Capítulo 4: The Beginning Of The End
"You better be reading The Saga of Sonya The Brutal, Vin" yelled out Edgar as he read his own manga. Despite being in his late sixties, he deeply enjoyed Eastern media and storytelling. The different ideas and styles were refreshing compared to the Western stories he had grown up reading. The ex-SAS special operative spent his retirement reading comics, watching anime and playing an assortment of videogames - most of which were grand strategy or co-op shooters. The dream life of many.
Vincent looked up from his own manga, titled Ascension Of The Shield Bearer, and cautiously replied "Yes..."
Edgar sighed and closed his own book, peering at Vincent with cold blue eyes. "I swear to God if you're reading Shield. You better read Sonya when you finish." he complained, "It's brilliant Vin. Warlocks in World War 2, reincarnated protagonist, a vengeful God. It's got it all. And the main character is just brilliant, evil but brilliant."
Vincent put down his book and glared at Edgar with his dark grey eyes. "I'll read Sonya once you start Professor Rock. It's only a single volume and it uses accurate science since it's about a prodigy engineer-scientist guy. A mysterious disease starts turning humans into rocks and the protagonist is accidentally sent ten million years into the future. His goal is to rebuild civilization from scratch, re-inventing science along the way and he does this by-"
Vincent is abruptly cut off by a sharp knock at the door.
"If I didn't raise you or pay you don't come inside" yelled Eddie, annoyed at the interruption. [A war veteran deserves peace and quiet when they want], he thought to himself [especially after what I did for my country].
"Mr Beckett, it's Nurse Annie. There's an emergency! I'm not sure if you've seen the news but there's b-" began Nurse Annie breathlessly, stepping into the room as she was interrupted by Eddie.
"Yeah we know. The Dead have risen and shit's really hit the fan. Rest In Peace Japan." said Eddie in a light-hearted almost mocking tone.
Annie paused awkwardly. She had never gotten used to the pair's antics. Taking a deep breath the nurse continued "We're evacuating all residents to the city centre, where the police and army are setting up a safe zone behind a blockade. We need to leave now."
"Yeah no, not happening." replied Eddie "We'll be fine. Who cares if two old men die anyway? They will need to save supplies for soldiers, workers and the youth. We'd simply be a burden."
"Mr Beckett, now really isn't the time f-" began Nurse Annie until she was cut off by Vincent.
"We'll be alright, Miss Annie." smirked Vincent as he brandished a modernised Winchester Model 1887 lever-action shotgun complete with an ammunition belt. He had also put a kevlar bulletproof vest over his jacket, giving the overall effect of a well-armed ageing militiaman.
"W-where did you get that Mr Shaw?" asked Annie in a frightened voice, gesturing towards Vincent's firearm with shaking hands.
"It's part of Eddie's emergency weapon cache," Vincent replied before turning to his friend, "You really need more variety in your armory - it's basically just pistols and rifles. I was lucky to find this beautiful weapon."
Vincent then walked over to Eddie's closet and removed the false wall behind - revealing a small weapons rack. Inside were two Avenger-7 assault rifles, a Trident-1 sniper rifle and four Viper pistols - all made by ArmSys limited. Below the racked guns sat boxes of ammunition, tactical bulletproof vests and even a handful of smoke grenades. An impressive weapons cache considering it was hidden behind a wall inside a nursing home.
Nurse Annie paled and began to sway "Y-you had guns in… in your room this e-entire time? she panted, struggling to breath.
"Sorry Annie, it's not legal but they're necessary in case something like this happens." answered Eddie, swiftly walking over to her side.
"You… you expect that thi-" Annie never managed to finish her sentence. Eddie caught her unconscious body before it hit the floor, laying it on the room's bed.
***
Meanwhile...
***
Nathaniel reloaded his FBI standard issue Glock 17 - inspecting the weapon as he did so. Painted matte black, fitted with an ergonomic grip and a tactical red laser sight the firearm exuded authority. Sighing he holstered the weapon before sitting down on the bed in his hotel room. The All Father had instructed him to find the Nine Demons, a task easier said than done. One might assume that the Nine Demons is a group of individuals who have banded together and are immensely powerful. However Nathaniel knew from experience that was only half true. Although most of the Nine Demons did travel together in the last Divine Tournament, a few remained separate from the group and actually opposed the others. The Nine Demons were individuals who had somehow earned impossibly powerful abilities without the aid of a God. Not even Nathaniel all his years surviving in the apocalypse had found the answer. Nevertheless, he would have to act swiftly to become allies with the Nine Demons. [I know at least the two old men are here in Britain, in London,] thought Nathaniel, [however the others I have no idea where exactly th-], Nathaniel's thought was interrupted by the sound of screaming. Energised by the primal cries, the agent rushed to the balcony to look at the streets below.
In the middle of the road below slumped a blue-haired girl, crawling away from a toppled over wheelchair. A trio of Undead with sullen skin, drooling mouths and bloodshot eyes limped in pursuit. The girl desperately crawled forward, scrambling with her arms while her nonfunctional legs trailed behind her. Her pursuers were all recently turned Undead, children that had been attending school and unfortunately were killed at the very beginning of the apocalypse. Or perhaps fortunately killed given what was to come. They had once been children.
Now they are Undead.
Now they are dangerous.
Now they must die.
Nathaniel lept into action. Sprinting out of his hotel room and leaping down the stairs he exploded onto the street. In a single fluid action Nathaniel unholstered his Glock and fired a barrage of shots at the Undead trio's chest. [One, two, three, four, five], he counted. The Undead children turned to face Nathaniel, focusing on him instead of the girl. One of the Undead, an approximately ten year old school girl, twitched before scrambling towards Nathaniel. Her two companions followed suit as the agent broke into a sprint. Running hard, he dived into a nearby abandoned bus. [Rule One: your greatest weapon is your environment], recalled Nathaniel from a book simply titled 'You Will Survive' written by an unknown survivor of the last apocalypse. He did not bother to lock the door - the Undead would simply break through within seconds. Quickly, he dashed to the back of the bus. Nathaniel then smashed a nearby window with a glass hammer attached to the bus's roof, creating an immediate escape route.
Holding his pistol with two well-trained hands, Nathaniel spun around to face the Undead trio. With one eye closed he lined up the first shot at the Undead schoolgirl's head. The first time he had killed an Undead - over three decades ago - he had hesitated. All Undead were once people with their own hopes, dreams, aspirations; with families, friends and lives. However, hesitation to kill for survival only leads to your own death in the apocalypse. Nathaniel no longer hesitated. It had already been determined by researchers in the last apocalypse that it is impossible to return an Undead to a human state, for they lacked a soul. [There is no hope for the dead], thought Nathaniel, [but there is hope for the living].
Nathaniel levelled his Glock at the Undead's heads and unloaded his entire clip. Only half of his shots hit their mark, he had not used a firearm in years, but it did not matter. One bullet each to the cranium was enough. All three Undead fell forward - carried by a momentum they no longer contributed to - and collapsed. Their ragged breathing stopped and eyes dilated as blood seeped across the bus's carpeted floor. Any person or even doctor would initially conclude that they were indeed dead. However Nathaniel knew better. This was the main reason why WHO and people in general did not refer to them as zombies - because zombies can die. It took an Undead roughly a day to heal a head wound enough to be mobile again in Nathaniel's experience. The agent rushed out of the broken bus window towards the girl, sprinting over to her while panting hard.
The girl had blacked out, perhaps from fear, before Nathaniel could reach her. Once he was by her side he was close enough to properly make out her details. She had pale freckled skin and wore glasses with frames the same ocean blue as her hair. The girl was no more than fifteen years old. [No,] thought Nathaniel, [she is exactly fifteen years old]. Nathaniel knew her.
Her name was Diana Keene and she was a mass murderer.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
TalesLessTold
TalesLessTold What a lovely introduction...
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