RISE UP DEAD MAN

SILENT KILLER

WASTELAND, PIT STOP, 1090

The distinct sound of the tent zipper's soft metallic clicks slowly fades into mind, rousing me from my slumber... By the time I'm fully aware, the air has already become cold from the open flap. I can hear the intruder making their way into the tent, but their attempts at discretion are betrayed by the loud crackling of the tent floor.

Blinking the last of sleep out of my eyes, I barely see a figure by the entrance taking an interest at...

'Now hold on right there. That shotgun you're holding. That's my shotgun!'

As I begin slowly shifting my arm out of the sleeping bag, I cock the gun before it's fully out of the bag, muffling as much noise as possible, and aim my Scottfield at the intruder. At this range, he has no other choice but to confront me.

...!

You're in deep shit now.

Clearly not expecting both my sudden awakening and the sound of a hammer being cocked, the intruder-like an idiot-stupidly drops my Romero onto the floor before throwing his hands up. He gives me agitated whispers of what I can take as a plea for mercy. Doesn't mean much to me though, I don't speak Ursusian. He's definitely a man, though.

"...Speak Victorian." I wrap my finger around the trigger, beckoning him to heed incentive. By now, Ashley had also woken up from the hushed confrontation. Turning on the lamp, a glare of drowsy annoyance plastered all over her face.

"A-Ah...?" The intruder stares at me through the darkness of his hood in wavered confusion before he begins speaking again, this time in a language I can understand.

"Mister, please, you do not have to do this." He speaks in a strong accent, reminding me of the first time I woke up in that village.

The intruder holds his hands out in front of his face, almost trying to hide his view away from the muzzle of my gun.

I take note that his identity is concealed by a mantle, does everybody in this world wear some kind of hood or something?

"Well yeah? Gimme a reason why, And it'd better be a damn good one." Come on already.

...

...

Finally, after a silence that was too uncomfortably long for me, the intruder finally speaks, this time with unsolicited confidence.

"...You are surrounded by my comrades. If I were to die, You would be soon to follow. I mean, w-"

BANG

~⁕~

Numerous eyes gaze at the distant campsite's silhouette from the all-surrounding darkness. Like dollar-eyed fools, they think the bigger the group, the bigger the payout.

There isn't a leader to this group, but the one in the lead adjusts their mantle one last time before bordering on the edge of the camp.

Sneaking closer to the nearest of the tents, the hooded figure glances at the rest of his accomplices as they go off to the other tents.

The tent is a dark grey, with two windows on either side of a decently large flap that served as a sealed-up entrance.

Having not seen anything through the windows, the soon-to-be intruder enclosed a finger and thumb between the tent's zipper, slowly and gently pulling down until the cold air rushed all the way in to fill the whole tent up.

The intruder scanned his eyes around the tent, noting the bags of gear and the two sleeping occupants before laying his eyes on something seriously grand.