Darien walked right into it, and after five minutes of walking, in the middle of a slum's back alley, he saw two men walking towards him. He put his left hand in the barrel of his rifle, while seeing one of the shady, dirty men take a nasty looking knife out of his overcoat pocket, moving towards him. He held is rifle and pointed at the man.
"Ah! You don't have the guts, kid. Now let go of that rifle, or I'll tear you to bits!"
"Get the fuck away from me, or I swear to God I'll kill you" Darien said, clicking the gun's safety off. The man jumped towards him.
Darien, terrified, barely heard the two shots he fired from his Mark II. The first shot caught the man in the left shoulder, the explosive round blasting his arm off it's socket. As he moved, screaming in pain, the second shot blew the top of his head off, splashing his brains in the face of the second guy, who had come closer. The fist man fell to the ground with a smooth "thump", creating a large pool of blood in the dirt. The other crook, caught by surprise, started moving backwards, pleading for his life.
"Don't shoot, I beg you! I have a wife and two kids, please!" he screamed.
"Fuck you", Darien tought, and shot him three times in the gut, one time for his wife and two times for his kids. The guy, entrails blown apart, fell near the other man, blood pouring out like a red river. Darien looked blankly at the first humans he killed in his life, then went through their pockets. He found two cans of Nod rations, a .45 pistol, of a GDI model he didn't recognize, a keychain with a key saying "Callaway Ave, 12", and about 100 dollars. The guy who held the knife (which he also took) had a tattoo saying "Harrisburg Fiends" on his left forearm. He also wore boots that had Darien's number, so Darien, who had walked more than forty miles barefooted, took the boots from the bloody corpse and put them on. "I guess I should check out this adress", he tought, while reloading his rifle. He started moving towards the town center.
Just as he got out of the slums, he heard shots coming from the main road. He ran towards a side street, drawing his weapon and took cover behind an old, half burned dumpster. Explosions rocked the walls as a heavy gunfight erupted from a distance. "Jesus Christ, what now?!" he tought. First those two assholes he shot. Then those little punks who laughed at him, when he found an eye on top of his head and screamed like a girl. Then the look that woman gave him when she saw the blood on his face while he was asking her for directions. Now this firefight. Darien figured two gangs were fighting each other for control of the road. He sat behind the dumpster and waited, with the pistol in his right hand, waiting to shoot any ganster who might find him. Thirty minutes later, the shots stopped. He got up and headed to Callaway.