|She's On Fire!
Author: Nosfrat PM
Only two of them are left standing. Misty's running dry, and Russman's feeling generous. But holding a LMG one-handed isn't girl business... One-Shot, rated K for mild violence and very mild gore.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Parody - Abigail B. & Russman - Words: 374 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Published: 12-08-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8777818
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Misty and Russman were the only ones left standing. Marlton had been cornered and killed by a horde while he was trying to figure out a way to turn his FAL fully automatic, and Stuhlinger had ran off into the fog after Misty insulted him for what felt like the hundredth time within an hour, they hadn't seen him again since that.
They were both stranded at the diner, as the bus hadn't returned yet. The old man was standing his ground, near the diner, unloading his MP115 Kollider at anything that came into view. Abigail was running in circles around a lava pool, her RPD running dangerously low on ammo, and its weight was slowing her down considerably.
"Anyone got some slugs for a lady?" she yelled, hoping for someone to bring her a fully loaded gun somehow. Russman had an XM8 strapped to his back that he hadn't used yet, as he kept buying ammo for his upgraded weapon. Feeling generous, he looked at Misty, and threw her the assault rifle. For a split second, she let go of her RPD's grip, holding it with one hand, however its weight made her lose balance and as she caught the gun Russman tossed her, she fell into the lava.
She was screaming in horror, the skin of her back was starting to melt and her clothes to burn. The old afro-american approached her, readying his syringe for what was gonna be his 78th revive in two hours. The girl was flailing her arms wildly, shouting insults about how stupid and smelly Stuhlinger was. Her vision was turning red, her head growing dizzy and her body was feeling numb. When she accidentally grabbed Russman's crotch in an attempt to pull herself out of the lava, the old man glared at her, threw his syringe over his shoulder, and bitchslapped her with the stock of his MP5.
"Ain't no one allowed to touch Russman!"
After a long agony, Misty died, consumed by the fire and lava. Russman got back to his killing, gathering a horde behind him, about to unleash a fury of bullets from the barrel of his shiny SMG, when the third host migration of the day stopped him in his rampage.