[b]Character:[/b] [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3449302]PFC Michael Roper[/url]
[b]Location:[/b] Orik Farmstead
[b]With:[/b] No one.

[hr]

"We hunger for you!" the two men screamed in unison, their voices amplified by an unseen malevolence. They rushed forwards, arms open wide in an offering embrace. 

Michael had only half a second to react, and he pulled the trigger. A large hole appeared in one of the men, the size of a basket ball, and he was flung against the nearest wall like a rag-doll. The second man came within arms reach of Michael, before the soldier was able to bring his weapon around and squeeze off another thunderous shell. His attacker disappeared from the chest upwards; brittle flakes of dried flesh and bone rained over the room like some kind of doomsday confetti. 

Before Michael could even take stock of his situation, the first man - the one with the hole in his torso - was back on his feet. He snarled as a dry and swollen tongue licked at cracked, putrid lips. Were it not for his gas mask, the unfiltered smell of decay may have been enough to knock Michael on his ass.

"What the fuck are you?" demanded Michael, thrusting forwards with the shotgun in a futile attempt to ward his enemy off. "Is this a training op? VR? DT-19? Please, I can't take any more of this bull shit!" 

The man smiled broadly, yellow and black teeth poking out from behind his swollen tongue. "We are for you. We are the hunger." The words should have been muffled, but they came through as clear as day.

Michael didn't understand the cryptic response; didn't understand how a man - apparently in the late stages of decay - could stand when half a foot of his spine was missing. He pulled the trigger, and his spas-12 combat shotgun reduced the man to a bloodless stump above the waist.

There was little time for further thought, as a window to the soldier's right exploded into fragments of wood and glass. A woman crawled through, her dress torn and shredded; she looked up at Michael with the same nightmarish features of the men. 

"Fuck this, fuck this," Michael decried, half sobbing. He turned his back on the woman, and sprinted out of the door; the darkness of the farmyard embraced him like an old friend.