Sighing, I cleaned the barrel of my HK417 as I remembered how exactly I ended up in this world. I had died while in my seventies due to my more sociopathic tendencies going haywire due to dementia. Any psychological suppressed emotions or bad experiences were released at that moment of my first actual dementia moment fuckin with my brain. Strong emotions hurt, strong emotions kill, especially since I was old and could no longer handle that stress they'd put on my heart. Leading to me having a heart attack.

Making sure the barrel of my rifle was free of gunk, I set it aside and looked over every individual carefully. Checking for cracks or deformities in the parts that would obstruct future use. Funny though that dying led me to get sent to a similar Earth, but one that I had no choice in. As whatever sent me here only gave me a blunt clear reasoning with one perk, one skill, and one biological trait. That were inherently natural to me as a person.

I was sent here as I was considered a criminal. Simply due to the possibility of becoming a loose cannon if sent anywhere else because I'm sociopathic. I'm in the world of Last of Us and Days Gone but no Freaks, just mushroom zombies. Highly dangerous adaptive mushroom zombies, I played Last of Us one and two, fucking shit gets very dangerous in high concentrations.

However, just because I'm a criminal I was still entitled to at least three "New Game +" rewards, minimum. Mine were Hit Man 47 due to my unnatural stealth habit, ideas for murder, and specialized memory for only things I deemed important. Desensitized was second as I'm a sociopath and basically enjoyed violence, and had seen several dead bodies and thought nothing of them. Not unless I liked the person, or it was an animal. Then there's adaptation, I adapt to anything to better survive.

Sick? The body makes me immune to the cause, intense training comes with increased recovery and regeneration of torn muscles. Those are just the basics; everything about me is affected by adaptation, so my mind and memory are included. Since to my adaptation, forgetting stuff and limited memory are seen as issues, and thus they must constantly be adapted due to my mind always being active.

When I came to this Earth, the version of me here had died. Due to having his head smashed in at school by a bully. In kindergarten. I was also apparently an orphan in this world, so no one cared much about what I did. After all, when you have your head smashed into a swing set repeatedly just because a girl asked. Well, everyone only found it natural that I'd change personality wise due to trauma.

So, no one batted an eye really at my more public things done, privately I'd make sure no one could watch me practice more dangerous things. Like shooting with rubber band guns to practice shooting disciplines I remember from JROTC or online searches. Publicly I even went to dojos that let orphans learn for free or a significantly smaller fee. I'm glad I did because through constantly breaking my bones and all those activities. It has made my body gain a lot of muscle, be tougher, brought back my abnormal pain tolerance, and gave me muscle memory.

After High school, I enlisted in the Marines at eighteen. I was discharged from service after ten years due to a false charge of sexual harassment, everyone knew I wasn't interested in any another human being due to me never so much as flirting. Yet, the charge came from an important figure who I had rubbed the wrong way by not letting their son be an idiot. My CO's hands were tied, so I resigned peacefully. I didn't get dishonorably discharged due to my silent compliance, and the charge was proven false.

Yet, I hadn't felt like I was done just yet with that life. Thus, after some searching, I signed up with a PMC called Fenrir who specialized in EXTREME anti-terrorist measures. I was with them for only five years, yet I felt like I finally had fulfilled a past dream to the fullest. Just who would've thought I'd ever learn how to torture a CAT, a literal fuckin cat! That was, for some godforsaken reason, stuffed with cocaine laced encrypted messages. Like, who the fuck thought of that?! Why would someone think to essentially drug and shove important documents inside a cat making a bigger asshole to deal with!

I was brought out of my thoughts when the alarm to my shop's door sounded. Holstering a Colt 1911 in a concealed jacket holster, I also hid an MP5 with a folding stock under my jacket using a sling I always wore. My store was a gun store, but anything important I had copies stored of it in a hanger that housed a specially built VTOL. I had it built to be completely functional using renewable energies such as solar power just to power the engines.

Engines which could use their motion to make kinetic and wind-based energies to keep it powered while in flight. That had been tricky to make but the company I had commissioned along with some war buddies were enthusiastic about the challenge. It took several years, but it got done and opened up new possibilities for aircraft and drones. I, however, used it as a mobile gun shop for my more off grid customers. All in all, I was thirty-four and doing alright for myself.

Shaking my head, I stepped into the front half of my shop. Inside stood two reminders of the kind of world I now lived in, Deacon Saint John, a war buddy, and Joel Miller. Joel I met during an attempted kidnapping of his daughter Sarah. Deacon I served briefly with during Afghanistan in taking down several enemy supply lines. Funny how life finds a way to make me suffer because by knowing these two I WILL suffer at some point. Leaning on a counter nearby, a shelf of revolvers I had either made or sourced from established makers.

I looked at the two men who would be very unlikely to ever befriend the other. Yet because I exist, they have and their Sarah's get along swimmingly. Deacon was currently looking at spare parts for his sidearm, and Joel at maintenance supplies as while he rarely uses his gun he takes good care of it. We did our own thing in relative silence, as if just enjoying each other's presence.

We were probably doing just that honestly. Deacon was adjusting to being married recently, Joel was glad to have friends to trust his daughter with besides his brother, and I was just existing as if I didn't care, they'd eventually fuck me over accidentally or on purpose. So, why care as much until shit hits the fan?

"Hey uhh Cerberus, did you hear anything from our buddies overseas about those worldwide cases of people sicker than dogs?"

"Nah Deacon, but I was in the fucking field long enough to know something is brewing and is about to hit harder than an RPG making a Humvee do a barrel roll."

"I'll… I'll take your word on it man since you've been basically everywhere by this point."

"Sarah giving you some trouble Deacon?"

"Nah… Just been getting antsy with some people I've noticed acting weird lately."

Joel, who was just content to listen in silence, turned his head to look outside, and that was when someone screamed. Looking outside my shops' window, I hopped over the counter and headed outside as I spotted someone eating a teenager. Looking at the "cannibal" I noticed some things off with their skin and eyes, drawing my side arm I raised it and aimed at the cannibal's head. I had to make this seem like self-defense as this isn't the full blow apocalypse yet, so I could still get arrested, and well, this is one of the early stages of the infected.
"Hey, you have two seconds to get off the kid before I put a bullet in your brain."

My voice attracted the thing that still looked human as it stopped eating the kids' shoulder and neck, it fucking clicked at me before moving faster than I anticipated. It was on top of me in seconds as I forgot, they're dead now in a way in the one part of the brain that controls how much we can output without destroying our bodies. So, there's nothing holding them back from using a lot more strength and speed. Blocking them with my forearm as they bit through my jacket into my flesh, I aimed my firearm and shot them in the heart. Good to know they don't die to being shot in the heart as the fucker is still gnawing on my arm! Firing into their head, they finally let me go as their head snapped back.

Good to know, no body shots, only headshots unless you can eviscerate most of their body to kill them. Kicking the body, I looked at the dying teen and I couldn't just execute them to end their suffering because laws still exist… Looking at my bleeding arm I realized something, I'm about to become immune, so people will want my brain, meaning they'd be willing to kill my ass just to get a cure. I knew those two would fuck me over somehow, and so did the still functioning laws of society. Otherwise, I would've just shot first and questioned never.