The cruel path of survival. (Flexible infection homage)
#1 of Flexible survival homage.
A homage to the amazing flexible infection done by the one and only Nuku Valente, if you havent read his stuff, go do it! his writing is amazing and he created this incredible universe my homage will be based in, this is the pre-story teaser, just to get a very light feel for the main character.
If it is fate that led me here to die, then It is I who chooses to live despite knowing my destiny.
Stuart sighed as he dug through the ruined piles of damp decaying cardboard, specs of the rotted material clinging to his torn and ruined gloves, he found only a few tins, a few small unmarked cans, enough for now he thought to himself, this little venture into the heart of the lions den had been a daft idea from the start but this was something and right now he couldn't be picky, slinging the tins into his backpack, he picked back up his Baton, making his way back to the damaged scaffold, climbing up the bars with nimble movements he made his way to the catwalk above and followed it to the window he had entered the building from, climbing out and dropping into the pile of box's and debris bellow.
Stuart wandered down the ruined alley, staring at his Baton, K.S, initialled on the handle of the sturdy black piece of wood and metal, a deadly took in the right hands, though it failed to protect its last owner, Stuart had hoped it would do him more, K.S rattled through his mind, a painful echo in an already damaged and demoralised mind, he had tried to scratch the letters off but to no avail, they remained standing testament to a failure, a failure he could have prevented had he been more a man he would tell himself.
Did it really matter though? The chaos, the fighting.. The death, had such an occurrence even be avoided? Surely now everyone was on borrowed time, Dead men walking, as he had been told over and over again by the fools who thought themselves so prepared for Armageddon? Who now lay but shadows of their former selves, though they had been right, did it save them or give them any semblance of peace in the end? Questions, more questions, more to add to the list Stuart had yet to even receive a single answer to, a morbid conclusion remained in his mind, would anything be answered could anything be sure other than the unstoppable, inevitable end that drew every closer each day?
A clanging of metal sent a chill into his very soul, perhaps the question of whether or not he would survive this day had finally arrived, turning he saw his would-be prophet, clad in dark of night fur stood a beast, a terrifying homage to the werewolves of myth, the creature, more beast than man, stood salivating at the end of the alleyway, its yellow eyes piercing Stuarts very soul, sending tell-tale signals of fear down into his core, his instinct to run prominent, but he knew from experience, running first would lead him down the path to tragedy.
Stuart steeled himself, standing weapon at the ready as the beast grinned a feral smirk, stepping closer, it growing larger the closer it got until it stood 8 feet above Stuart, its jet-black fur and feral claws a testament to its power, "Are you not going to run? Little morsel?" the beast asked, receiving no reply from Stuart, the creatures grin widened, "This will be fun!" the creature howled before dashing towards him at unparallel speed, Stuart stood, knee's locked in tension as he rose his weapon in front of his, projecting it into a invisible shield, as he said in his mind, "Fuck my life.."
To be continued.