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Snippet #2524806

located in A small midwestern town, a part of Dead Nation, one of the many universes on RPG.

A small midwestern town

None

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Character Portrait: Jim Samson
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As the shambling woman quickly neared Jim he could feel his right fist ball up ready to strike, and yet some nagging part of him couldn't bring himself to strike a woman. Nonetheless he refused to stand there and let himself be blatantly attacked, so at the last second he quickly side stepped the charging woman, which actually wound up being much easier then he thought it would be. As if she had a one track mind she kept shambling for a moment past Jim only to strike a large gray pillar of concrete on the ground, the kind used to tell car drivers they'd pulled up to far in a parking space, and it sent her sprawling onto the asphalt parking lot in a ungraceful heap-the sound of some unknown bones cracking loudly as she hit the ground.

Jim was about to call out to her if she was alright when he felt a hand grip his right shoulder, turning to see who it was he was met with the face of the man that was once Tom Samson. It was then he noticed Toms pale chalky skin and dead blank stare, and like always his teeth chattered away as he leaned in towards Jim his grip tightening all the while. Without thinking Jim threw both his hands out, both palms colliding with Toms grease stained overalls, the force of the blow immediately sending Tom sprawling over backwards, his skull colliding with the pavement with a sickening crack.

Everything was happening to fast now and Jim wasn't sure what to do, the woman who'd attacked him moments ago was staggering to her feet and the balding man who'd been behind Tom was mere feet from Jim-arms sprawled out and teeth chattering away as he closed in on Jim. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Mrs. Barrow begin to crawl up to her feet. At least maybe she could get away he thought, as he decided it'd be best to turn and run back into the store-this was clearly a job for the cops.

Making his way back into the store in mere moments Pops slammed the door behind them both, his free hand shakily locking two locks on the door with a large brass key. "What in the hell was that Jim? Whats wrong with those people?" Pops asked, his gaze still fixed on the men and women outside who were all stumbling towards the door-even Mrs. Barrow was trailing her moments ago attackers in the same drunken gate the rest of them carried.

"I've no fuckin Idea Pops, but I think we should call the sheriff."