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    1. AngelNoire 10 yrs ago

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BONUS!!!!
Three zombies in nice pressed suits with earpieces lumber into a room where Anderson is sitting alone, handcuffed to a desk.
One of them, carrying a three ringed binder, slaps it on the table aggressively...
"Grawrr Rawg Grawwrga Grawarsga Grawa Migwer AnGwrawrson."
Opening it he shows Mister Anderson several pictures of various cartoony depictions of brains, including one mess of pink lines that was likely handdrawn by the zombies themselves, and resembled a tangled knot of pink spaghetti.
Mr. Anderson remains silent.
"Grwe Graw Grwe Grawvvvvv Grwrnnnnnmmm Graw grwarwa Grerroriss gwre Gruswist..."
Still. Silence from the interogatee....
"Grawre Growrt, Gra Grib Rougr gra Grimmmgrew..."
The one talking holds up its middle finger...
"Grawnnnn Grwe Grib mmmmerrrr Grewr GrrRRBRAAAIiiiNSsssVVvGGRR"
All the zombies suddenly lunge forward and hold him down...
"Grwe Griwrrr rewr raaaaws Grat grewew mmmerd Grewr Graaaw Migwer AnGwrawrson,"
And all the zombies start eating at his stomach and he wakes up!
Clutching his midsection in fear... It's okay... it was just a dream... or did he just wake up to the dream??
[This post has been removed by SOPA. If you have a problem with it, thats too bad]
Already Miykael felt inhuman. He had killed more people than he knew with that pileup, and none of them even knew it was his fault.
That man he just killed though... it was personal... someone was threatening him, he eliminated the threat. It made him feel different...
He felt like a contradiction. The invincibility his skills and training made him feel he had, but he knew wasnt there was nerve wracking.
He knew that he was human, anything could come along and mess him up, so long as it really tried. But that didnt stop him from walking straight towards the first group of lumbering dead-ones, maybe seven or eight in total.
One after another he slashed them down. and it wasnt until one nearly bit his shoulder that he snapped out of the trance he seemed to be in, and he looked out at the swarm infront of him, which he was now facing alone, only a few fleeing stragglers left to escape their grabbing hands and tilted walks.
It was then that he saw his mortality. He saw that what he was doing now was about to kill him...

And he laughed and fell to his knees, sobbing. He got it now. It was a cruel joke played by heaven. they all had to look forward to this for the ends of their lives. Truly, much like them, we were just lumbering along towards our deaths, to which there was no escape... It was a parody. God's last joke, the unfunny bastard...

I get it though. I hope you think you're clever...

The dead may be walking...

But we are The Walking Dead.
Blurrs,
Screams,
Feedback.
Something was moving... the crowd? Were they going to risk walking?
No...
Running...
What?
More screams...
Miykael looked at the pileup next to his car...
Oh God... What have I done?
Then he saw the swarmers.
Oh God! What have I DONE?!!?
There must have been hundreds... and their numbers were steadily growing as people who hadnt yet clued themselves in thought the undead were more refugees. People were difficult to convince like that.
Quickly reaching back, he stuffed as much of each of the materials he brought as he could into a backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped out of the totaled vehicle. Pulling out his two longer swords, he moved his way through the crowd of running people. Alot of the swarmers were distracted by the easier targets. People who realized too late and those unable to escape their seat belt traps in time. Miykael didn't run. He walked. He had no one and nothing to run for... and every person he watched get eaten might have been safe if it werent for his car accident. A large burly man stepped in front of him brandishing a small revolver.
"Look... I'm sorry about this man, but... I gotta have that bag and those swords... It's for my wife and kids... I'd prefer you handed them over williingly so we can take them and go."
Miykael looked up at the man, and instantly saw the detail he needed to be certain of the man's intentions.
"Your wife and kids? Why arent they here?"
"Theyre in my car man. I didnt want you being near them with those swords. Now hand your bag over..."
The gun clicked as he cocked the hammer back. Miykael slipped off the backpack and laid it on the ground between them, stepping back a few feet. As the man crouched down to pick it up, Miykael jolted forward, then sidestepped, shocking the man into firing and missing his shot entirely, instead hitting the trunk of someones car, with his arm extended straight out in reflex. Moving quickly he slashed up with his wazikashi, flicking the blade toward the wrist of the man, cleanly severing his hand from his upper arm.
As the man screamed and fell back in horror, Miykael picked up the hand and tossed it to the man in sarcastic revelry.
"Hey lefty? Married men wear rings."
Those were the last words that man heard before he was speared through the head with 48' of steel.
"Damnit!" Miykael exclaimed upon seeing the line of cars in front of him. Pulling the four wheel drive off the road he drove in the ditch beside it, hoping to get around before the steep highway cliffsides Colorado was so well known for appeared in the side of the road. Instead he found police blocking the road, stepping in front of his path and holding up a hand for him to stop. Rolling his eyes, he pulled over. The officer walked up to his window and tapped a knuckle on it.

Rolling his eyes, Miykael rolled down the window and in a mocking tone said, "Is there a problem officer?"

"Yes sir I'd say there is. Are you aware that it is against the law for you to be driving off of the road like that?"

"No officer, I was completely unaware of that. I wonder, is it also illegal to go above the speed limit?"

"Okay smartass, license and registration."

"I don't have one."

"I'm sorry?"

"This is a state of emergency and I know how to use a car. I dont need a license by law."

"Sir that may be true in a state of emergency, but this little epidemic has not been declared a state of emergency."

"My parents and siblings killed eachother in a fit of fever and there were no emergency services available to help us. I'd say that constitutes a state of fucking emergency."

"What's your name son?"

"Why dont you figure it out. My dad's license plate is five feet from you."

"Fine asshole, we'll do this the hard way." Stepping in front of the Acadia, the officer pulls out a walkie talkie and starts to call to his partner. "Yeah Jack... We've got a... 499b... Uh-huh... Nah he's just being a little prick is all..."

That was the last thing he said before 3 tons of Aluminum, Steel, and Plastic ran him down, and barreled through the checkpoint. My window still down, I shout to the cars in a standstill behind me. "Well? Do you want to live or not?" And I start driving away at top speed before a damned police puncture strip caused me to skid into the ditch at the side of the road, followed closely by the first dozen cars behind me to start up. The result was catastrophic.The cars ended up in many different positions along the road, but the eventual result was a pileup three vehicles wide blocking the road and any chance of going around it was cut off by a deeply forested area to the right, and a bridge gap to the left. The road was officially closed. There was no way anyone was getting through that in a car...
"FUCK!"
edited
Sep said
Good thing he hid the good stuff.Also when randomly bringing up things like "Zeltron livers" can you possibly ask? I can't see Corran using them himself so they typically wouldn't be aboard.


Ah. I did make a mistake there. Wasnt meant to be stashed aboard your ship. easy to forget where I hide the things...

[edit] This edit is to inform you that an edit was made in reference to the quote and statement made in the post i am currently editing due to me feeling the need that an edit was needed immediately to the post this edit is referencing in order to avoid further confusion about the lack of an edit this edit discusses, and to avoid the need for further edits after the referenced edit was made in order to maintain continuity among posts, i.e. the inclusion of further edits to rectify the lack of edit and the accomadation for the new edit by means of further edits.
CommCenter said ANS Penumbra, this is Captain Veros of the ANS Vector, we've been specifically tasked with landing on Luna, but we havent opened a hole on our side of the moon, if you have an opening please send co-ordinates and we will amalgamate.
ANS Penumbra, Captain Andreis, ANS Horoscope, we have visual contact and are closing in on your trajectory now.
ANS Back-Alley, thats a negative, we are pinned down, we will provide what support we can but our interceptors are getting steamed.

Null punched in his coordinates for the Vector and horoscope and opened his comm,
"Confirmed, Vector and Horoscope, on me. We don't have a secure link yet, so we don't know what we're facing down there. be ready for anything. Whats our ETA's?"
Vector said We're looking at two hours for us. you're clear on the other side of the rock

Horoscope said We should have the same AT as you, Penumbra. Maybe ten minutes, our crew isn't suited up yet though. We may need prep time.

"Okay, when I land my team will go in for reconnaisance and initial stealth strikes on any occupying forces. You two provide frontal assault when its available. Don't rush yourselves, like I said, we don't know what we're dealing with here..."
Turning to his Navigator he gave the order to descend.
"Here goes nothing..." He muttered to himself.
Bump so i know where i am in the story
The Zeltron, Koren, was attractive enough... Definitely much like the sort she'd gallivanted with on Coruscant from time to time. Still, she wasn't sure what the ramifications for sleeping with someone you work with were... especially when your work is generally sunk in the seedy underbelly of the Galaxy where people often shoot at you for messing with their shab. Being emotionally attached to someone in that profession could be a serious liability... Granted, it might help that he seemed pretty empty in the personality department. Maybe being personally attached wouldn't ever be a problem. Being on the fence about a man made for much harder decisions when sober, so she decided to follow him to the crew lounge and have a drink or four. After all, they still had eight hours of hyperspace left, and she had already noted a nice little stock of powdered Zeltron liver left among her things, (Something that was highly illegal and probably needed to be hidden better, even though it was usually donated and not killed for since they had regenerative livers) which she could always take a dose or two of if she really needed to sober up.
Many people didnt know that Zeltrons livers were highly advanced, and that they had two of them. Because of this, they often used their endowment to their advantage. Adding that to their uncanny ability to excrete hormonal cocktails that were outragiously enticing, and it made them very good pick up artists in pubs. It also made them ruthless business dealers and gamblers, using drink as a way to slight major businessmen and crime lords. Investing hundreds of creds in good drink and making off with tens of thousands later. All in all, they were a very well evolved species. And powdered Zeltron liver was a good remedy for intoxication. Either that, or the drunks thought it was, either way. healthy stuff, really good for your body in general by cleansing toxins from just about anything.
Null believed in the stuff. And she definitely beleived in Corellian Whiskey. So she was hoping this pirate fierfek had an ounce of patriotism.
And several hundred ounces of good drink.
Especially since that gungan with the engine sludge wasn't really making her want to share the bottle...
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