The year is 2027. The world has been plunged into total war for the past eight months, West pitted against the East. Too disfigured and mentally crippled to be of use as a soldier on the front lines, you had fled into the mountains to avoid forced servitude in a munitions factory. Good thing you did too, since a nuclear exchange in the second month took out most major population centers and infrastructure, including the city you once called home. You awaken to a tortured sky filled with black clouds and dark smoke. The weather is getting worse and much, much colder. Suddenly, you hear voices of crying females coming some distance from your makeshift camp. Must be what awoke you from your slumber. It's time to get to work. You grab your axe.
Heading down the trail, you jackknife into the trees and down a ravine. Like a ravenous beast, you dive off of an outcropping of boulders and directly into the midst of a group of several war refugees. Dispatching the two cucks fumbling with their rifles, you split one's head open so quickly pieces fly in a multitude of directions. You turn to the shocked women with a crooked smile on your grotesque face. "Welcome to my kingdom, roasties." Sick and exhausted, the half-irradiated thots fall to their knees and beg for mercy. "Please, no, don't kill us, I don't want to die" one of them cries. Picking up both of the fallen rifles and stringing one on your back, you aim the other at the foid who just spoke and fire a shot into its chest. "Next cunt who moans gets shot just the same. NOW MARCH!" as you point up the hill back to your lair. Reluctantly, the four remaining cunts follow your directions.
Just before you arrive back at your lair you direct them over to a trench off to the side. Their faces turn into looks of horror as they see what lies below. Shooting two of them in the back before they can react, their bodies slump into the mass grave filled to the brim with the corpses of your victims. One of the foids tries to make an escape, but you line up your target in the iron sight and take a shot. It hits its mark, creating fresh meat for the soup pot. The last man of wo begs for its life, but you just laugh as you let loose a bullet that delightfully rips through its skull.
Back at camp, you sit on your throne of bones and reflect on your handiwork. The thrill of this morning's butchery has invigorated you. "I wonder what more entertainment is in store for today," you remark to yourself. Yes, it's good being king in hell.
Heading down the trail, you jackknife into the trees and down a ravine. Like a ravenous beast, you dive off of an outcropping of boulders and directly into the midst of a group of several war refugees. Dispatching the two cucks fumbling with their rifles, you split one's head open so quickly pieces fly in a multitude of directions. You turn to the shocked women with a crooked smile on your grotesque face. "Welcome to my kingdom, roasties." Sick and exhausted, the half-irradiated thots fall to their knees and beg for mercy. "Please, no, don't kill us, I don't want to die" one of them cries. Picking up both of the fallen rifles and stringing one on your back, you aim the other at the foid who just spoke and fire a shot into its chest. "Next cunt who moans gets shot just the same. NOW MARCH!" as you point up the hill back to your lair. Reluctantly, the four remaining cunts follow your directions.
Just before you arrive back at your lair you direct them over to a trench off to the side. Their faces turn into looks of horror as they see what lies below. Shooting two of them in the back before they can react, their bodies slump into the mass grave filled to the brim with the corpses of your victims. One of the foids tries to make an escape, but you line up your target in the iron sight and take a shot. It hits its mark, creating fresh meat for the soup pot. The last man of wo begs for its life, but you just laugh as you let loose a bullet that delightfully rips through its skull.
Back at camp, you sit on your throne of bones and reflect on your handiwork. The thrill of this morning's butchery has invigorated you. "I wonder what more entertainment is in store for today," you remark to yourself. Yes, it's good being king in hell.
