Fenrir's Fangs

  Awake. Ryan hated to be awake, as it meant that he would have to come to the realization that he did, in fact, live in a zombie infested hell hole and he had, yet again, lived through the night.  Living was something most others strived for, but the way he looked at it, living through your sleep meant you would only die awake and aware.  Grudgingly getting up and out of bed, he thought of the few things that made life worth living in this god forsaken city, and actually cheered up a bit.  Those things were underaged drinking and friends.

  After taking a quick shower, he looked at his reflection debating wether or not he should shave.  Quickly deciding not to he headed to his near empty closet.  Most people would have complained at his lack of clothes had they been in his shoes, or boots rather, but he liked it fine living off of what he needed, and not much more.  His closet was almost completely barren with the exception of his usual gettup, which he had cleaned everyday.  Mumbling to himeself, he dried off and got ready to put on what seemed to him like the only thing he had ever worn.

  Ready to leave, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  Ryan stood nearly six foot five inches and had a muscular build that could have been compared to a marines body back in the days before the outbreak.  His hair was a light brown color and was cut in such a way that it resembled the Beetles haircut, just slightly longer.  He was dressed in his usual outfit, a black LR8 Reactive chestplate trimmed with silver fox and wolf pelts, black cargo jeans, black combat boots, and a pair of millitary issued combat gloves.  In his pocket he carried a silver flask adorned with celtic markings and filled with Stags Head Irish Whiskey.

  After only five minutes of leaving his room he was flooded with salutes, most likely cliaths and fostern trying to get on his good side.  Blaming this on his recent rise in rank, he chuckled a little bit.  Out of all of the people who he had just passed, at least 1 would be leaving today.

  Finally reaching the top of the stairs Ryan entered what had now become the Wolfs Den, a lounge for all of the Black Dragon Agents and Fenrirs Fangs Members.

  After making a trip to the bar to pick up a bag of chips and a shot glass, he left half a box of .50 caliber rounds in the tip jar and walked over to a now chuckling Flynn and still as stone Tratpan.

  "Always have to try and out do me, eh." Flynn said jokingly, reffering to the type of ammunition the two of them had put in.

  "Out do you?  Never, just sharing some of the wealth that I found in my room."

  "What do you mean found?" Flynn said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

  "Yea, I noticed that the top to my closet had been removed before and decided to check it out.  I found a few boxes of .50 ammo and a big ass pistol that has a broken firing mechanism.  I have Hollister fixing it up right now, but you know just as well as I do that if it is any good of a gun he will probably keep it."

  "To true, I lost a perfectly good Colt .45 like that."

  Pulling up a chair, Ryan sat down and began to watch the moon as he took a sip of his whiskey, and wondered were the rest of their small group of friends were.