Snippet #1915887

He didn't waste a second. The moment she hurled herself over the tripwire, his machete was in his hand, and with an angry snarl, chopped down on one of the prostrate Runners.
"Filthy, fucking - nngh!" The wet 'splot' as the sharp blade impacted on rotting skull was beyond satisfying, and he certainly didn't stop there. Posting his foot on the halved head of the exterminated corpse, he slammed the blade down into the closest Runner he could reach, sheer rage fueling a relentless flurry of chopping strikes. Everything hurt; worst of all his head. His muscles ached, and his heart pounded in his ears as he chopped down; again; and again; and again; and again, the prostrate monster thoroughly dead before he ever stopped. She could have the others, for all he cared. After being run ragged like this for the last few days, he just wanted an outlet.

"Fuck you!" He grunted as he chopped down for the last time with a sharp clink of metal on concrete as the blade sliced all the way through. Standing over the bloody mess he'd made, he snuffed, and wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth before he wrenched the blade free, and flicked as much of the gore off of the carbon steel that he could. God, that felt good! Rotten, stinking, sprinting, monstrous bastards!
"Yeah," He panted breathlessly with a half-hearted wave of his hand, glancing over at her, "No problem, there," "Fuck, I'm tired. Thank fuck that's over with." Staring down at the broken, rotten corpses of their latest triumph over literal Hell, he just shook his head, and wiped at his mouth again, "Christ. I'd rather be in fucking Afghanistan. Taliban weren't even this fucking bad," He swore half to himself as he worked his machete back into the scabbard slung across his back and promptly - if not sorely scooped up his gymbag and jostled it up onto his shoulder, "You got somewhere you're headed?" It seemed like a totally irrelevant question when every square mile was packed with bogeymen, but anywhere was better than here, and if he was gonna travel; might as well be with someone else who was looking over their shoulder every ten paces too!