Post by Deleted on Jun 7, 2016 12:44:00 GMT -5
Brad sat on the truck of his car, chowing down on some dried jerky he had leftover from Minnesota. His Mk16, a new addition to his ever changing arsenal, lay on the roof of the cherry red Challenger behind him. He had his trusty Glock 17 loosely tucked into the front pocket of his pants. Panning a set of binoculars across the landscape in front of him, Brad let out a low whistle. Bethesda had been one of the largest maritime and military ports on the eastern seaboard before the fall, and now it revealed a treasure trove of military hardware he could scavenge. Rusting M1 Abrams tanks sat on the roadways, alongside USMC Bradley personnel carriers, and he could vaguely make out the hulking shape of the USS George HW Bush beached in the sand a quarter mile away. Her aircraft lay in the sand, slewed off the deck in the impact as the crew ran her aground, likely fighting off an internal outbreak of walkers. Several UH-60 Black Hawks lay in that mess, their General Dynamics M134 miniguns pointed outwards at nonexistent targets. That was his objective. He had gotten the idea from a group he had passed in DC; somehow they had several of the old Secret Service's Chevy Tahoes, and with them the rear mounted meat grinders that were miniguns. electronically controlled and designed to not accidentally shoot the vehicle or living creatures, they turned who streets to rivers of meat and blood. Brad wanted one, and he had the schematics to mounting one to the roof of his car.
Finishing up his lunch, Brad tossed his garbage over a railing and popped the trunk on the challenger. he selected a USMC inspired M14 EBR, liberated from a guard tower in Ohio. Popping the legs out on the bi-pod and flipping scope covers up, Brad began panning the field before him. A campaign of heavy bombing and street to street fighting had considerably reduced the undead population in this area, but there were still about sixty or seventy ambling about the wreckage before him. Brad layed out a dozen magazines, and pulled a Corona from the cooler next to him. Another gift from DC, somehow the group had perfected refrigeration in the after. Taking a sip, Brad began sighting targets and fired. With almost metronome-like speed, bodies began falling from quick acting lead poisoning. Due to the buildings around them, the walkers couldn't triangulate on his position, and wandered around confused while their compatriots fell. Most went down with a single shot, but Brad did hit one who rang like a steel plate being hit before getting back up. One in awhile you found someone who had a plate in their skull, from a previous injury or surgery. Those usually took more than one to drop, but Brad enjoyed the challenge.
Brad wrapped the shoot up after about twenty minutes. empty magazines and spent brass lay all around him as he stepped back, taking a deep breathe in. He would wait now, seeing if all the firing drew in more. Usually it only took a few minutes , long enough to enjoy another couple beers. Brad also pulled another pack of jerky out of his car, and layed on on the hood to enjoy the sun that was beating down, warming him up. Figuring he had a safe enough position on top of the parking ramp, he even went as far as taking his shirt off to get an even tan. For the end of the world, life was actually pretty good.
Finishing up his lunch, Brad tossed his garbage over a railing and popped the trunk on the challenger. he selected a USMC inspired M14 EBR, liberated from a guard tower in Ohio. Popping the legs out on the bi-pod and flipping scope covers up, Brad began panning the field before him. A campaign of heavy bombing and street to street fighting had considerably reduced the undead population in this area, but there were still about sixty or seventy ambling about the wreckage before him. Brad layed out a dozen magazines, and pulled a Corona from the cooler next to him. Another gift from DC, somehow the group had perfected refrigeration in the after. Taking a sip, Brad began sighting targets and fired. With almost metronome-like speed, bodies began falling from quick acting lead poisoning. Due to the buildings around them, the walkers couldn't triangulate on his position, and wandered around confused while their compatriots fell. Most went down with a single shot, but Brad did hit one who rang like a steel plate being hit before getting back up. One in awhile you found someone who had a plate in their skull, from a previous injury or surgery. Those usually took more than one to drop, but Brad enjoyed the challenge.
Brad wrapped the shoot up after about twenty minutes. empty magazines and spent brass lay all around him as he stepped back, taking a deep breathe in. He would wait now, seeing if all the firing drew in more. Usually it only took a few minutes , long enough to enjoy another couple beers. Brad also pulled another pack of jerky out of his car, and layed on on the hood to enjoy the sun that was beating down, warming him up. Figuring he had a safe enough position on top of the parking ramp, he even went as far as taking his shirt off to get an even tan. For the end of the world, life was actually pretty good.