Message #23530

[Sir Modemkill, Cyborg!]

Good point.

My reason shall be this.

After I "Killed myself" I had somehow stopped the infection fully taking over my brain, I woke up, half infected by the strange creature, but still concious of who I was, for some reason my muscles refused to move, I waited weeks and months for my friends to come and rescue me, all the while feeling the unsatiable hunger that the undead do, but (thanks to the severe mental discipline being a member of BD gives you) managed to keep it in check.

After a few months had passed I realised noone was coming for me, I was forgotten, expendable, eventually, I managed to move my horribly mutated fingers slightly, I realised, that with practise, I could regain my motor functions once more, several month's passed and eventually, with excrutiating, self inflicted physiotherapy, I was back on my feet once more, I was far too weak to break the door though, I wandered the cell, eventually remembered my forgotten revolver on the floor and shot the already **** glass on the door, pulling myself through the hole, I wandered back upwards toward the surface, the infected seemingly oblivious to my presence, no matter how close I got to them, they just ignored me, I was one of them now.

As I breathed fresh air once more in the ruined city of Fairview, I vowed my revenge on those who left me to die.







So watcha think?