Laughing Mad Down The Rabbit Hole
Grigor Vostok was cleaning his knife when he heard the cacophonous cry of firecrackers downstairs. Immediately he rose to his feet, sheathing his still bloody blade at his waist and grabbing his Makarov, which had place gingerly on the end table. With heavy, lumbering footsteps he strode across the room and down the stairs, his massive frame shaking the house with each step. Not a man with much regard for physical appearances, he had a clean shaven head and a wrinkled, unfeeling face with soulless brown eyes that pierced to the soul. A well-muscled man, all that held back the thick carpet of hair on his chest, arms, and legs was a grimy white t-shirt covered with blood and sweat and some ragged blue jeans tucked into brown hiking boots. From both up close and far away Grigor looked like a walking nightmare, but he wasn't exactly in the business of making friends these days anyway.
He reached the first floor and turned to the right, going into the kitchen, away from the basement and the wing of the house in which Valerie currently waited. He wasn't sure exactly where the sound had come from, but he surmised that if someone were to be looting this house, they would go straight for the food in the kitchen. They would find nothing, however; Grigor's food hung from hooks down in the basement. While cursing furiously in Russian, Grigor threw open every cupboard door in the place. In the ruckus, he didn't even hear Valerie open the basement door and begin to creep through the house...
Once he'd searched the kitchen to the best of his abilities, he returned to the foyer and found the front door ajar. Whoever it had been had made their escape. He then looked down the basement hallway and found the heavy basement door open as well. This intruder now knew his awful secret; he vowed they would not live to tell the tale. He stormed outside, breaking into a sprint as he crossed the yard. Standing in the middle of the street, he caught sight of Valerie running away far in the distance. Raising his pistol, he held the woman in his sights, but as he noticed walkers creeping around in his peripherals, he decided against taking the shot. Internally he memorized her standout features; black hair, yellow hoodie, jeans.
She may have escaped this time, but as long as she knew about the basement, Grigor would hunt her to the ends of the earth.
At A Southern Funeral
Randall's southern warcry and improvised bayonet charge were no match for... basic evasive maneuvers. As planned, the stout southerner's bayonet became rather unfortunately lodged in the wall behind Robert, leaving the man in quite a pick. After a moment trying to desperately pull the gun from the wall, Randall whipped around and grabbed Robert's shirt. However, before the angry fool could attempt to wrestle the ex-solider to the ground, he met with an unfortunate end as Robert's axe descended into his empty head, wedging itself in his thick skull. Randall's grip on Robert's shirt suddenly loosened as his legs gave out beneath him and he slumped to the floor, dead.
Christmas morning! Randall dropped:
Remington 870 Police w/Bayonet
Generally considered one of the most reliable pump-action shotguns ever created, the Remington 870 is a powerful close-range weapon in the right hands. This police model features a 20" barrel and operates with an internal tube-fed magazine holding up to eight 12-gauge slugs, with an extra in the pipe. The 870P is clearly characterized by its sleek parkerized finish and synthetic stock, and comes with a shoulder strap for easy carry. Randall affixed an M9 bayonet at the end of the barrel for quiet kills, a very convenient feature indeed.
Woodland Camo Hunting Vest
Although a bit bloody, Randall's old hunting vest provides a certain degree of camouflage and has a number of convenient pouches and pockets that afford the wearer easy access to their supplies in a pinch. A "one-size-fits-all" piece of clothing, the vest can be adjusted to fit most body-shapes.
The following items can be found inside the vest:
- 14 12-gauge shotgun shells
- A half-empty pack of Parliaments
- A box of butterfly bandages
- A flask full of very strong moonshine
- A wallet with a bunch of useless shit inside
- A keyring
- Sadness and woe