Chronicles of A Zombie Slayer Entry 1

Chronicles of A Zombie Slayer
By: Dante Constantine

Author's Note:
Hello and thank you for choosing to read my piece of writing. I've been playing the flash game Boxhead for a while now and just decided to make a fanfiction about it. So anyway, please review, I want to know whether its worth continuing the series of not. Any criticism is welcome (example: writing style, suggestions, etc.) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the title of Boxville, it is property of the creator of the Boxhead series. This is solely fanfiction, not for profit,

Entry 1:
Active Duty

    Once upon a time, Boxville was a bustling city. Filled with capitalist fat cats, an ocean of homeless vagrants, and as many whores to please even the saddest of hearts. But, unfortunately, that drastically changed one day. My friend, the illustrious Doctor Boxman, began to tinker with human genetics and dead bodies under the Box Corporation. Though I can't call Stephen Hawking my equal, I knew something was fucked up when half-rotten bodies began to attack the citizens. I did what any good human would do, survive, and kick their rotten ass in the process.

    Sweat was dripping down my back. Not once would I believe to find assailants in a place as public as Box Square; practically the center of the metropolitan. I looked around, good no civilians to get hurt; they had all already fled.

    My attention then turned to the three, no four, seemingly inanimate bodies that stared at me; their ruby red eyes gorged with blood-lust and malice. Scowling my face, I noticed the putrid odor that their decaying bodies emitted. Unable to contain myself, I grinned. I haven't been this excited since the Tri-City Gang Wars.

    "Grrowwwlll!" screamed the tallest, and as if receiving an order, all four charge at me.

    Relying on my agility, I pulled out my Bolt .45 revolver, squeezed the silver trigger and two of them fell face first into the ground. Yes! The adrenaline rush that surged through my body made me feel alive for the first time in ages. Trapped in my adrenal stupor, I failed to realize the other two still came charging.

    "Shit," I muttered, one of them jumped on top of me. I struggled to keep his gnawing mouth from my flesh; I wasn't going to let myself be this zombie's bitch.

    "Sorry, you're not my type!" I bellowed, elbowing it in its face.

    "Ugggh!!" it moaned, I presumed in dismay.

    Once again taking out my trusted Bolt .45, I emptied my clip into its skull. My entire body elatedly winced. If this zombie had a soul, I relished the moment I shot its soul out of its body.

    "You're getting sloppy, Lieutenant Bambo." a voice echoed.

    To my relief, I saw Captain Bard. He stood triumphantly over the body of the fourth zombie. I couldn't help but notice the bullet-laden corpse of his defeated opponent. Machine guns. Those were Bard's specialty, what he considered the correct 'etiquette' in dealing with criminals.

    "Bog, almighty, must be watching over me. He sent me a guardian angel." I smirked.

    "Bog doesn't give a rat's ass about you. Now, mind explainin' what the fuck these are?" He asked in his usual arrogant tone, motioning towards the prey we had just annihilated.

    "Well, sir," I started, "They appear to be...what the civilians call 'zombies'."

    "Rrrr..." he growled, lighting his cigar, "Just when we get rid of those bastardly street gangs, fucking zombies show up." he muttered as he began to walk away.

    "Where are you going? You're a douche if you think you can kill them all without my help," I exclaim, while reloading my Bolt.

    "I've got no intention of killing them, not yet at least." He replied, not even stopping, "I'm gonna get some answers first."

    Bard and I were companions from the beginning. At the start of my career in the Boxville Military Police, he was my superior. Together, we led raids and defeated almost every major crime lord in the Tri-City area. But, after all the villains were dead or in jail, we both languished at desk jobs toiling in tedious paperwork. But now, finally now we were able to be on the actively line of duty again.

    "So then I take out my B-16 and shoot the shit outta that mother-fucker." Bard told me.

    "Haha!" I laughed, "and you did that before you even found out it was a zombie?"

    Bard shrugged. "Zombie or not, he fucking wrecked my window." Bard had an anger issue, I'd be dead by now if I wasn't his friend.

    "So what about HQ? What're they doing about the situation?" I asked in a somewhat serious tone.

    "Nothing. I contacted the Brigadier, but he said that the situation was 'under control'. Bog-damn liar. How the hell could it be under control if zombie are free to frolick around Box Square?"

    "So, that's why we're going to see Boxman right?"

    Bard nodded as he exhaled the smoke from his cigar. "Yup, with the living dead on the prowl, I can only deduce that the city's top scientist knows something."

    As the dying sun began to set, Bard and I stood infront of a lumbering edifice. 'Box Corp' was written on the building's facade. Box Corp was an interesting company, its first commodity were cardboard boxes, which it made wholesale for Box-Mart. But after initial successes they progressed into the computer and then science departments. Now, they were being accused of starting a mass zombie frenzy. Its a bizarre world, I guess.

    We entered through the main doors; after scanning the room, we realized it was completely void of any employees. Both Bard and I doubled-checked our loaded our firearms and proceeded vigilantly.

    After nearly an hour of steady searching, we found that the entire building was empty. There wasn't a man to be found, and luckily, not a zombie either.

    "Maybe, they're somewhere else." I suggested, rubbing the back of my neck. For some odd reason, the back of my neck always ached after proceeding vigilantly.

    Bard was about to reply to my comment, but suddenly we head a distant moaning. We immediately turned to its source.

    "Damnit, I can't tell if its human or zombie..." I said, as we treaded down a yet-to-be-searched corridor.

    "Or someone gettin' laid." Bard joked with a silent chuckle. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Any minute we could've died, and he was telling jokes that only assholes would find funny. I chuckled a little myself.

    As we advanced, the moaning and groaning grew louder. We were able to pinpoint the sound to a single room. Bard and I approvingly nodded to each other, preparing to ram the door down.

    BAM.

    Bard slammed the door open. We both ran in, our weapons poised to attack. We discovered figure in a lab coat, that was tied to a chair.

    "Thank be to Bog! Rescuers! Salvation!" Cried the figure, that I now recognized as Doctor Boxman.

    "Boxman...?" Bard asked, with a hint of confusion.

    "Yes! After my experiments, Box Corp wanted to kill me. So they tied me up, made me drink milk, then left me for dead." the scientist answered.

    "What the fuck? Milk?" Bard and I asked both in unison.

    "Yes...in all my wit and guile, I intentionally wrote down in my medical report that I'm lactose-intolerant, which I'm not, because I knew death by milk was the most humane way any company would kill me. But anyway, that's not important! Untie me, now!" he commanded.

    "I could see why you're the smart one, " I muttered, half-impressed and half...what the fuck?

    "Fine, Boxman," Bard said, as he and I put away our weapons, "But you'll have to answer our questions."

    I untied the rope that banded him and he was free.

    "Thank you, both, so very much! I am so grateful! I'm forever in your..." Boxman elatedly declared, but was interrupted.

    "Yeah, yeah, just don't jizz in your pants." Bard said, "Now, we have some serious..."

    "Ggrrooowll!" a mysterious voice barked. I immediately gripped the handle of my revolver.

    Suddenly, Bard fell down, groaning in pain. I looked behind him and saw a deformed, decrypted body with rotting flesh, presumably a zombie. It was holding a pipeline, probably what he hit Bard with.

    "Fucking zombies," I mumbled to myself, taking out my reliable Bolt revolver. I emptied two shells into it.

    "Ggrroowl!" it barked again, refusing to die.

    Luckily, I wasn't distracted by an adrenaline rush like last time. I was swiftly able to shoot three more rounds straight into its torso. It bellowed one last growl and perished.

    I helped Bard stand up. His face was scowled in anguish; it must've been a blow to his confidence to be ambushed so easily. Even during our raids and missions together, he never received an injury. He built his entire ego on such reputation.
    "Can you walk?" I indifferently questioned.

    He took a few practice steps, with each he muttered a curse. "Yea, but I probably won't be running for a while." he replied.

    We both turned our gaze to Boxman, who was now cowering behind a desk.

    "What the hell, Boxman!?" screamed Bard, barely able to contain his fury.

    "I-I hadn't a clue that they would leave a rogue zombie to kill me," Boxman stuttered.

    "You double-crossing, low-life," Bard spewed, taking out his B-16.
 
    "Bard!" I yelled as I stared out the window in complete awe, "I think Boxman is the least of our worries now..."

    Both Bard and Boxman joined me at the windowsill. Outside, by the moonlight, we saw several dozen zombies wandering on the company's campus. There was no doubt that they were looking for our flesh to gnaw at. Fuck. It was going to be a long and stormy night.

Author's Note:
Thanks for reading! And don't forget to review.