Raku
Four Thousand Club
Jackson "Mac" MacMilllan
Jackson looked down, then looked up again. "Fuck, guess you're right. OK, time to stab the fuck out of these motherfuckers." he said as he threw the flare at the horde. Mac drew his knife up once more and turned to the nearest zed and stabbed it in the skull. He looked to another one and punched it in the chest hard, sending it back a few feet. His heart was racing, his mind was being clouded with adrenaline, he felt as he did when he had his first gunfight. But this feeling came with a dark side as well. For some reason, it felt as if the scars from where he had been shot during that gunfight were fresh. He remembered how he felt when he was shot three times. Pain, oh the pain. He winced as if the pain was real, get it was in his mind. But this only threw him into a more intense state. Moving faster and more reckless. Slashing and stabbing anything that was in his way. Shouting as he was doing it. "Raaaahh! Raaaahh! Raaaahh!". He was slashing through the undead with out worry. He didn't give a shit in this moment. The only thing he wanted to do was kill every last one of the motherfuckers.
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