User:Kris McKinney/The Boondock Saints

This story is part of the Malton Chronicles. This story is fan-made, and is not officially part of any background history for Urban Dead.

The Sling

A few weeks passed since the generator robber was killed. Kris had a desire to continue with justice. Some consider what he did unlawful, but really, there were no laws, really? People would say "Who is he to play judge and juror?". But Kris knew what he did was right. He left Rolt Heights after that, and now he sits in Roftwood with his radio tuned to the Survivor Security Zone waiting for news on rogue survivors that were killing people around town.

Kris intercepted a radio transmission about a group of about 4 people planning on attacking a small pub in the area in about a week, and this drew Kris' attention. He listened for days about their plans, and what weapons they were bringing. The day came, March 17th, St. Patrick's Day. The raiders called themselves "Guerrillas". Kris waited outside the pub that night as a person leaving the pub, wearing a black cloak, blue jeans and boots. Little did the assailants know that Kris had slung a shotgun and two pistols under his coat. He waited for them to walk in before he turned around and headed back. The back of the pub had an entrance that he told the bartender to exit out of when they came in. Kris pulls out his shotgun, checks the chamber for a shell, cocks it, and steps in slowly, hiding behind a giant rubber plant in the corner. One of the attackers, referred to as "Shelton" flashed a pistol, setting Kris off. When Shelton turned around, Kris grabbed him from behind, and took him outside the front. He recited his prayer, "And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord for thee, Power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command, we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomine patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti.". Here he shot the man in the back of the head with his pistol, execution style. The other three men inside heard this, and Kris stepped around the corner to hide. He pulled out his shotgun once more, and waited for the sound of the men to come around the corner. Kris kept his back to the brick wall, turned his gun to the side and pointed behind him. He pulled the trigger, peppering all three men, all screaming in pain. Kris turned the corner slowly and carefully to notice all three men laying on the ground. He took the weapons from each one, slid them into a bag, and finished off each man as he did the first.

Everyone in the pub noticed this act of heroism. Everyone eventually returned to their St. Patty's Day drinking, except one. Johnny Naylor, (Naylz, as he was to be named) witnessed the whole act. This caught his attention, and he approached Kris.

"That was... excellent. You killed them before they managed to kill us..." Naylz said.

"Oh, thank you... it's nothing really... I feel it's my personal duty as a human being and soldier of Christ to rid this already chaotic town of evil." Kris explained. "It's just what I do."

"Are you law enforcement?"

"... sort of."

"Would you ever like to have an ally to help you do these things?" Naylz asked.

"I don't think so, man. I..."

"Look, I'm ex military. I was stationed in Fort Creedy when the outbreak happened, and I used my training to survive this far. I am a man of God, I feel as you do. That crime does not help the current situation of a viral outbreak, and someone must help to do something about both the zed outbreaks and the survivor scum that decides to harm others." Naylz explained. "I think I can help you."

"Well... I don't know..." Kris started. "Do you have any of your own weapons?"

"Well, of course. Follow me." They continued talking while walking down the road, and they entered a run down apartment building where about four dozen survivors were living. They stepped into a room, a weapon cache of 2 years worth of ammo collecting.

"I have about 4 shotguns here... quite a few pistols, axes..." Naylz said modestly. Kris was astonished. He was so limited to weapons, the ones he used at the time were absolutely terrible, most of them found in sewer grates and dead bodies around the city.

"I was a sharpshooter in the military, I think I can help you." Naylz explained.

"I think you can too... do you have any rope?"