The metallic sound of a Zippo lighter echoed through the sepulchral silence of an abandoned gas station on Route 20. Jackson Claws took a drag on his cigar, the thick smoke mingling with the stench of rotting flesh emanating from a group of "walkers" huddled against the broken glass of the establishment.
He didn't move. His eyes, sharp as a predator's, watched a neon blue interface floating before his eyes, invisible to everyone else.
"Another day in this hell..." Jackson growled, his voice hoarse as the gravel of the road. He put the lighter back in the pocket of his worn leather jacket. Suddenly, a sound of shattering glass. Three zombies managed to break through the rubble barrier and advanced toward him with hungry groans. Jackson didn't draw a weapon. He just clenched his fists.
SNIKT!
Six sharp, white bone claws leaped from between his knuckles with a wet, sinister sound. He dodged the first zombie with an agility no ordinary human possessed and, with a circular motion, decapitated the second. The third felt the steel... or rather, the bone. Jackson sank his claws into the creature's skull and threw it to the ground as if it weighed nothing.
the loot
The Loot Jackson walked to the back of the gas station. He opened the System menu and selected [INVENTORY]. With a wave of his hand, a black Chopper motorcycle appeared out of nowhere, materializing on the asphalt. Immediately afterward, he grabbed a bottle of ice water, drinking half and splashing the rest on his face to wipe away the sweat.
- System, status.
NAME: Jackson Claws LEVEL: 12 (EXP: 4,200/5,000) TEMPLATE: Wolverine (Progress: 35% - Bone Skeleton) STATUS: STR: 15 | VIT: 25 | AGI: 14 | INT: 10 PASSIVE ABILITY: Keen Senses (Level 2).
hum...
!
He sensed a different smell in the air. Gunpowder. Human screams. And something else... the smell of fear and despair coming from the direction of the forest, near the train tracks.
POV: Maggie Greene
Sweat stung her eyes as she ran. Bob's arm was resting on her shoulders; he was wounded. Sasha was close behind, unloading the last bullets from her magazine into a horde that seemed endless since the Prison had fallen.
"Maggie, we're not going to make it!" Sasha shouted, her voice faltering. "They're closing in!"
They reached a clearing blocked by car wreckage. Trapped. Maggie gripped her knife tightly, her hands trembling. She thought of Glenn. She thought she would die without knowing if he was alive.
That's when they heard it. The roar of a powerful engine.
A man on a black motorcycle appeared on the hill. He stopped, observing the impending massacre. He didn't seem scared. He seemed... bored.
"Hey! Help here!" Bob shouted, extending his hand.
The man calmly got off the motorcycle. He walked towards them, stopping a few meters away. He ignored Bob and Sasha. His eyes scanned Maggie's body, lingering on her curves in a way that made her feel both naked and angry.
"What do I get out of here if I get you out of here?" Jackson asked, his voice thick with cruel indifference.
"What? We're people! We're dying!" Sasha exploded in anger.
Jackson let out a short, dry laugh, taking one last drag on his cigar before throwing it to the ground. "In today's world, 'being a person' isn't worth a can of soup, doll." He looked at Maggie again. "You. You seem useful. If I save you, you owe me loyalty. I command, you obey. Deal?"
Maggie looked at the zombies five meters away. She looked at the man who looked like a wild beast in human form.
"Yes! Just get us out of here!" she shouted
. Jackson gave a half-smile. "Great. Stay behind me. And try not to get blood on yourselves." .
The massacre began.