The Destroyers of the Dead
" Pierce me with steel, rend me with claw and fang.
As I die a legend is born for another generation to follow...."
"Great, a school with a thousand creepy-assed children ready to rip my throat open. Nice carnival, Palouse. ...and only one ride...." Chris opened the double doors indicating the front of the building. Surprisingly, the halls looked clean compared to the disaster outside.
He turned left and peered into a large window. The scene that lay before him had a backdrop of an office, but in the foreground was sobbing High-Schoolers, cowering underneath desks and shelves~~ except one.
The door next to the window opened, and there stood a girl with a handgun pointed at his head. He decided she was pretty; her tense muscles and angry expression chiseling out her beauty. She was wearing a black oriental vest with two blue Chinese dragons and a matching skirt; the dragons encircled with yellow and orange flames. Fishnets covered her legs and her thigh-high black leather boots with lace-ups made her look quite destructive. However her clothes portrayed her, she was Caucasian with short, dark brown hair and eyes as blue as a Miami summer sky. Her gun was a berretta, police edition.
"Speak," she said, with a bit of a German-Russian accent. Her voice sounded as if its foundation was of savagery and anguish. It built her demonic personality.
"Whoa," Chris responded. "Put that away. I'm not one of those things."
There was a bang and a bullet hit the floor, very near his fee, then, just as fast, the berretta was at his head again. "Now. I'm losing my patience. You're lucky I have some left." Her voice became softer. "You're Chris Jericho, aren't you?" She lowered the gun.
Relieved, Y2J replied, "Yes. I am also the first Undisputed Champion in the world. You should feel honored to be in my presence." Playfully, he tapped her on the thigh with his hand.
She raised her berretta again. "I'm about as honored as I am to be living amongst white trash." Her voice rose some octaves, and she began to yell. "You are such a jackass! Why can't you..."
Chris protested her complaints. "Wait--! No--! Please--! I can explain--!"
"....half tempted to leave you for the creatures! In fact--!
"He's human! Phoenix, let him in!" It was a different voice, a male's.
The girl's gaze upon him darkened. "Fine," she shouted back, and to Chris, "One mistake will cost you your life."
"Don't worry, 'Phoenix,' I'll be on my best behavior."
"We'll see," she retorted. With that, she turned to enter the office; the soft click of her heels echoing in the distance.
Somehow, even with the experience of having a handgun to his head, Chris felt attracted to her. She had that alluring sense about her. If her had the chance, he would enjoy making her please him. He smiled at the thought and walked into the office.
The owner of the male voice stepped forward. "Welcome, to our Hell Hole.... I thought we were the only ones left.
" We call ourselves 'Destroyers of the Dead.' I'm Ben, the General. No need to know my last name, we go by first name only."
"Well, then, that means I'm Chris. But who are the rest of you?"
General Ben listed off their names, ending with Major Phoenix. Phoenix never looked up from whittling, the knife in her hand cutting through the sleek wood.
"Please, make yourself at home." Gen. Ben went to continue his game of Scrabble with Sergeant Nels , Suzie and Bofie.
The rest of the people were gone, perhaps scrounging food or on patrol. There was nothing else for him to do, so he pulled up a chair and sat next to Phoenix.
Not even looking up, she said, "What do you want?"
"A piece of your ass, if you don't mind," he replied.
Sardonically, she said, "Okay!" and reached for her berretta.
"PHOENIX! NO," Gen. Ben yelled. She growled her protest, but put the gun down.
"Chris," said Suzie in her sweetest voice, "You can join us."
"Yeah," he answered, "I'll do that."
Phoenix glanced up from whittling, but not to the extent that people would notice. She liked the fact that people thought she didn't care since the coming of the Dead. She watched as the five played Scrabble; laughing as if the Dead couldn't walk. They've been at it for several hours now. Other members of the Destroyers of the Dead came and went but none would talk to her, except Cerrita, but she wasn't back from her shift.
She scanned Suzie more closely. Phoenix always had hated her; she was fake. She had given Suzie the nickname Suzie the Slut, and right now she was fulfilling that role; constantly flirting with Chris Jericho.
Chris..... He was her most favorite wrestler. He had tried to her friend, as well as hit on her and all she did was blow him off. He, too, must think she didn't care. Truth was, she hadn't cared for a long time, but that was changing. Even after a brief moment of meeting him, she felt comfortable around him. That meant that she could possibly come to love him, though he was much older than her. However, it would never happen; he now hated her, and it seemed her arch-enemy would win him over instead.
Suddenly, Corporal Darin and Cerrita burst through the back office door, near the 'sick room' and Phoenix, who jumped up at the action. Corp. Darin and Phoenix saluted each other. Again, Gen. Ben came to see what the problem was. He, too, was saluted.
"General Ben. Spencer's Red Vultures are under attack, sir! If we do not help them, the zombies will be upon us next," Corp. Darin was panicky and out of breath.
Phoenix spoke up "I'm calling on someone to send the alarm." She gave Sergeant Sammie a hand signal and within minutes the fire alarm went off. Over the loudspeaker, Phoenix's voice boomed, "All Destroyers report to the office immediately. This is not a drill. I repeat, all Destroyers to the office immediately. This is no goddamn drill." She hung the receiver and joined back with the others. The rest of the Destroyers were back in the office quite soon.
"All right Destroyers," said Gen. Ben, " Your mission is to save the Red Vultures from getting their asses kicked, even thought I hate Spencer, because they're pansies. Okay, get to your divisions and let's go!"
"Hey, wait. I need a division, and a gun," Jericho said, confused.
"Go with Phoenix. She'll hook you up."
"Okay. Hey, Phoenix--"
She hurriedly responded. "Put your Pro Wrestling to use. Stay close. I'll cover you, I guess. Now come on!"
And the Destroyers of the Dead, Division no. 2 exited the office, via the 'copy room.'
Little did they know of the horrors that awaited them there.....
" Pierce me with steel, rend me with claw and fang.
As I die a legend is born for another generation to follow...."
"Great, a school with a thousand creepy-assed children ready to rip my throat open. Nice carnival, Palouse. ...and only one ride...." Chris opened the double doors indicating the front of the building. Surprisingly, the halls looked clean compared to the disaster outside.
He turned left and peered into a large window. The scene that lay before him had a backdrop of an office, but in the foreground was sobbing High-Schoolers, cowering underneath desks and shelves~~ except one.
The door next to the window opened, and there stood a girl with a handgun pointed at his head. He decided she was pretty; her tense muscles and angry expression chiseling out her beauty. She was wearing a black oriental vest with two blue Chinese dragons and a matching skirt; the dragons encircled with yellow and orange flames. Fishnets covered her legs and her thigh-high black leather boots with lace-ups made her look quite destructive. However her clothes portrayed her, she was Caucasian with short, dark brown hair and eyes as blue as a Miami summer sky. Her gun was a berretta, police edition.
"Speak," she said, with a bit of a German-Russian accent. Her voice sounded as if its foundation was of savagery and anguish. It built her demonic personality.
"Whoa," Chris responded. "Put that away. I'm not one of those things."
There was a bang and a bullet hit the floor, very near his fee, then, just as fast, the berretta was at his head again. "Now. I'm losing my patience. You're lucky I have some left." Her voice became softer. "You're Chris Jericho, aren't you?" She lowered the gun.
Relieved, Y2J replied, "Yes. I am also the first Undisputed Champion in the world. You should feel honored to be in my presence." Playfully, he tapped her on the thigh with his hand.
She raised her berretta again. "I'm about as honored as I am to be living amongst white trash." Her voice rose some octaves, and she began to yell. "You are such a jackass! Why can't you..."
Chris protested her complaints. "Wait--! No--! Please--! I can explain--!"
"....half tempted to leave you for the creatures! In fact--!
"He's human! Phoenix, let him in!" It was a different voice, a male's.
The girl's gaze upon him darkened. "Fine," she shouted back, and to Chris, "One mistake will cost you your life."
"Don't worry, 'Phoenix,' I'll be on my best behavior."
"We'll see," she retorted. With that, she turned to enter the office; the soft click of her heels echoing in the distance.
Somehow, even with the experience of having a handgun to his head, Chris felt attracted to her. She had that alluring sense about her. If her had the chance, he would enjoy making her please him. He smiled at the thought and walked into the office.
The owner of the male voice stepped forward. "Welcome, to our Hell Hole.... I thought we were the only ones left.
" We call ourselves 'Destroyers of the Dead.' I'm Ben, the General. No need to know my last name, we go by first name only."
"Well, then, that means I'm Chris. But who are the rest of you?"
General Ben listed off their names, ending with Major Phoenix. Phoenix never looked up from whittling, the knife in her hand cutting through the sleek wood.
"Please, make yourself at home." Gen. Ben went to continue his game of Scrabble with Sergeant Nels , Suzie and Bofie.
The rest of the people were gone, perhaps scrounging food or on patrol. There was nothing else for him to do, so he pulled up a chair and sat next to Phoenix.
Not even looking up, she said, "What do you want?"
"A piece of your ass, if you don't mind," he replied.
Sardonically, she said, "Okay!" and reached for her berretta.
"PHOENIX! NO," Gen. Ben yelled. She growled her protest, but put the gun down.
"Chris," said Suzie in her sweetest voice, "You can join us."
"Yeah," he answered, "I'll do that."
Phoenix glanced up from whittling, but not to the extent that people would notice. She liked the fact that people thought she didn't care since the coming of the Dead. She watched as the five played Scrabble; laughing as if the Dead couldn't walk. They've been at it for several hours now. Other members of the Destroyers of the Dead came and went but none would talk to her, except Cerrita, but she wasn't back from her shift.
She scanned Suzie more closely. Phoenix always had hated her; she was fake. She had given Suzie the nickname Suzie the Slut, and right now she was fulfilling that role; constantly flirting with Chris Jericho.
Chris..... He was her most favorite wrestler. He had tried to her friend, as well as hit on her and all she did was blow him off. He, too, must think she didn't care. Truth was, she hadn't cared for a long time, but that was changing. Even after a brief moment of meeting him, she felt comfortable around him. That meant that she could possibly come to love him, though he was much older than her. However, it would never happen; he now hated her, and it seemed her arch-enemy would win him over instead.
Suddenly, Corporal Darin and Cerrita burst through the back office door, near the 'sick room' and Phoenix, who jumped up at the action. Corp. Darin and Phoenix saluted each other. Again, Gen. Ben came to see what the problem was. He, too, was saluted.
"General Ben. Spencer's Red Vultures are under attack, sir! If we do not help them, the zombies will be upon us next," Corp. Darin was panicky and out of breath.
Phoenix spoke up "I'm calling on someone to send the alarm." She gave Sergeant Sammie a hand signal and within minutes the fire alarm went off. Over the loudspeaker, Phoenix's voice boomed, "All Destroyers report to the office immediately. This is not a drill. I repeat, all Destroyers to the office immediately. This is no goddamn drill." She hung the receiver and joined back with the others. The rest of the Destroyers were back in the office quite soon.
"All right Destroyers," said Gen. Ben, " Your mission is to save the Red Vultures from getting their asses kicked, even thought I hate Spencer, because they're pansies. Okay, get to your divisions and let's go!"
"Hey, wait. I need a division, and a gun," Jericho said, confused.
"Go with Phoenix. She'll hook you up."
"Okay. Hey, Phoenix--"
She hurriedly responded. "Put your Pro Wrestling to use. Stay close. I'll cover you, I guess. Now come on!"
And the Destroyers of the Dead, Division no. 2 exited the office, via the 'copy room.'
Little did they know of the horrors that awaited them there.....