User:Denver Randleman
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"You know what you are. What you're made of. War is in your blood. Don't fight it. You didn't kill for your country. You killed for yourself. God's never gonna make that go away. When you're pushed, killing's as easy as breathing."
Description Years of physical labor have left him with a tone, muscular build. Above his smile you see your reflection in a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators. He has a full beard, and his coarse blonde hair drapes over his shoulders.
Attire: a pair of Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses, a silver medallion of the patron saint of butchers, a sleeveless white T-shirt, a Carhartt coat, a pair of green cargo pants, and a pair of Redwing steel toe boots. HistoryI was a fearless Sergeant of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. My grandfather was a screaming eagle, and finally, so was I. After basic training at Camp Claiborne, Louisiana I was ready to take on hell itself. I was as proud to be in the airborne as anyone could be, really ecstatic. I was pumped, and ready for action. That's when our CO informed us of the ongoing containment situation in Malton. We where airdropped into Malton with no idea of what to expect. The so called "infected" where vaguely described, and we where told to simply secure the city and eliminate any hostile threats. The cause of the sickness was unknown, and we where sent in wearing full C.B.R.N. (Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear) Protective Suits, gas masks and all. They didn't know if it was a disease, a mutation, if it was airborne, waterborne, anything like that. All that was known was a company by the name of NecroTech had been previously experimenting on said sickness, and the disease had been exposed to the general population. Like so many others, we where sent in to clean up the mess. Our mission was to linkup with some 101st airborne squads that had gone in during the early quarantine, and aid them in eliminating all infected personal. With limited outside contact, we where expected to set up a base of operation and live off the land. Then, when all hostile threats where neutralized the quarantine would be lifted, and we would be evacuated out of there. Simple as that, success for our mission was guaranteed. I didn't put it all together at the time, but intuitively I knew something was wrong. It was a night drop; strong winds pushed us way south of the designated drop zones. The last known location of the original 101st squads was at Halberry Boulevard Police Department [87, 44] in Pitneybank. That was our destination, and as we slowly began to regroup, making our way north, we made first contact with the infected. They looked like lepers, only they where decomposing. I had seen dead bodies before, but never ones that where in such a state of decay.... and moving. Some looked to have been rotting for two years or more, with putrid flesh hanging off their limbs, sunken eyes and swollen torsos. Not caved in, but swollen mid sections. We had the gruesome experience of finding out why this was. They fell upon us with an aggression I had never witnessed before. Some were fast, some slow, and after emptying entire clips into them, some would just not stay down. We took up defensive positions in a Park wedged between a Bank and a Cemetery, and just started digging in real fast. The worst part was they didn't just kill our guys, they devoured them. You'd have a couple infected take down a guy and just start a feeding frenzy. Other infected would stop what they where doing and make their way over to the kill. Most horrible thing I've ever seen in my life, a young private screaming for the mercy of god himself while having his guts ripped out. You shoot one of those swollen belly bastards enough times in the body, the limbs and guts of some other poor guy would come spilling out. Shit was really sick. We must have fought them for some five days. In four days my group of men who numbered at least a company, went from full strength to 91 effective, all of whom where wounded in one degree or another. We set up machine guns, whatever we had with us. Water was our biggest problem, ammunition second. We fought day and night, and the onslaught just kept coming. The disease was a scary thing to witness on your own men; they'd have a minor wound but still be combat ready. Then all of a sudden they'd start slowing down, we where all tired, but they looked like the life was being sucked right out of them. You'd be in a firefight next to one of these guys, and they'd just collapse, dead. Then, they'd get back up. It's scary shit to have one of your close friends come at you with the intent of killing you, and feasting on your remains. It was all pointblank too so after putting them down, you'd be covered in brains and organs. The worst part for me is there's two days of this slaughter that I don't have any memory of. Towards the last day we really didn't think about the future. I had no expectation of making it out of there. I don't think anybody else did, either. We didn't discuss it. We really didn't have a hell of a lot of time to sit around discussing things, I had written us off. People were too tired to cry. It was physical exhaustion; you had no energy left for anything else. You would stay awake and keep firing, drink some water, make sure your ammunition and weapon were in good shape and eat when you could, stuff some food into you just so you could keep going. Finally, we started running out of ammo. There was only 5 or 6 of us left, and by some miracle for the first time since we took up positions, the barrage of infected began to let up. Using the break to our advantage, we gathered as many supplies as we could and after tearing off our containment suits, began a mad dash northwest to the bank. The place was ruined, we barricaded it and after resting the others decided it would be best to make their way to the drop zone, and avoid fighting the infected. I refused, I felt betrayed by my COs. We where sentenced to death, if we made it, we made it. If we didn't, oh well, just the cost of dealing with a crisis the U.S. Government didn't want to commit to. It was obvious to me by then. We where sent in unprepared, with an impossible goal that we thought we could accomplish since we weren't fully informed. The city was locked down nice and tight, and all the civilians where collateral damage. That's how they wanted to keep it, and if they caught any flak about not dealing with the biological disaster at Malton, they could say that "Our boys are hard at work dealing with the crisis", and show their little reports of troop deployments. I started going berserk again, punching holes in the walls, and tossing furniture, so they left without me. I didn't try to stop them; apparently they finally did meet up with some Airborne Division, and after informing the units CO of my situation I was reported AWOL. I really couldn't have given a rat's ass. I went solo for a while. Got rid of my uniform and found some new clothes. Helped the local survivors maintain the barricades, and put down the infected. Moved around a lot, and witnessed the many small tribes and factions of survivors that where beyond confident. They where cocky and ignorant, ignoring the weak while accomplishing nothing. After wandering around my small area of Malton, I finally settled in Greentown. I joined a small survivor group called the GSE, and helped them for a while. That's when I started coming across the Death Cultists. A large horde would begin assaulting the suburb and the strangest individuals would start appearing in safe houses. They where apparently working for the infected, not infected them selves, but worshipers of some kind. They would kill a couple defenders; destroy a generator or radio before I would send them back to their own kind. They felt no remorse for their actions, but what bothered me the most is my group like many other survivor groups, did nothing. They where completely against murdering others, unless they where given a reason to, meaning an assault on themselves or the group. These deranged individuals went after the weak civilians in front of us, and I was told to do nothing. Privately, I made it my personal goal to kill them and other survivors who I deemed a hindrance to my group and it's cause. I enjoyed killing death cultists, and I soon found myself looking forward to the hunt. As the days went on I started to lose my way. Besides fighting my own personal battle, the war going on outside became more and more hopeless every day. Uncoordinated survivor groups fell to the scourge on a daily basis; the local mall was assaulted multiple times and each time it fell within the week. Preoccupied with my personal struggle, I drifted off, and wasn't seen in Greentown for some time.When I returned, my group only numbered a few, a shell of its former glory. I wanted to reorganize, make it into the effective group I knew it could be, but that wasn't in the cards. So, I began to pick up from where I left off, a workhorse for the survivor cause, but something wasn't right. I found myself disenthralled with it all, the struggle, laboring day and night for organizations that lingered on in existence. It was pointless, the incompetent few leading the many. These groups hid behind an uneasy general peace until their laziness overflowed into each other's corrupt schemes and plans, leading to conflict. I almost drifted off again, but then I found something else that incited me. I started looking forward to the slaughter of those that I deemed repugnant. Death Cultists, impersonators, I reveled in the stalk that led to their ultimate demise. I felt good, not only from the rush of a fresh kill, but I finally felt that I had a purpose. I was making Malton a better place, but I was overlooking the main cause of much of the pain in the city. The apathetic groups that dotted the map, all talk and no bite. They spoke of grandeur, when their actions where insignificant. It sickened me; here I was fighting a plague for some other diseased entity. I wanted to join other like-minded individuals, but many of the organizations I came across had no purpose, just dealing death. They killed the weak, women, even children. I couldn't do that; I wanted to punish those corrupt groups that abused their power. I wanted to rectify the useless and unimportant organizations that only functioned to benefit themselves. I wanted to rain down righteous justice on all the fictitious persons that hid in their malls and forts, boasting about their achievements that never where. I was ready to be the one-man death squad for all the neglectful, like minded individuals that had become gross off that fat of the land..... That's when I heard about the Flowers of Disease. I've never looked back.
SkillsSurvivor
Zombie
AwardsNone Currently
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