I whirl to meet my opponent, blade raised.
The brainless meat sack is fast and ugly as sin, slathered in crap and dirt, but he’ll be much prettier without that head. His black-red blood stains the snow, not mine, and I turn for his friend, adding another kill to my tally. Heph will be pissed when I pass him again.
Heph saved me, literally. I was a crying, scared, running wreck when he took me under his wing, taught me to fight, to shoot, to hot wire a car, break into a building. His total kills topped mine for a long time, but I’ve learned and I’m faster than he is. My score grew with experience, slowly matching and overtaking his death toll. I was in the lead when we left Freetown, but he got to count all the bodies he mowed down in the truck, hardly fair. This mob should be enough to push me over again.