Deck of 52/Chronicles
Decks of 52: Chronicles
Long before the Outbreak in Malton, a group of highly-trained, stellar mercenaries, made up of elite combaters, doctors, fighters, researchers, engineers, street smarts and all sorts of professional backgrounds from various parts of the world banded together. The teams were codenamed "Deck of 52" and were formed to execute any given orders from the highest bidder- from assassinations, organized riots, top-secret biochemical transportations to low-class massacres in prison fights. Decks of 52 have been there, done that.
Dr Dimitry Lenko, a Russian-born conglomerate, CEO of Malton International Bank Group- A central governed bank that subsidies many smaller banks spread throughout Malton, was certainly impressed with the Deck of 52 works. MIBG, being the highest bidder in an underground Annual Mercenaries Auction, a record-high deal between D52 chief and the Don of MIBG was immediately clinched- just before the day Dr. Dimitri left Malton for “vacation”.
Apparently this “vacation” was more of an evacuation for these executives, no one knows what exactly happened, except the big shots of Malton; Chief Engineer of Necrotech Group, President of Malton Malls International and Dr. Dimitry himself, who coincidentally, a major shareholder of Necrotech Group knows were notified of a viral outbreak in Malton.
The Deck of 52, were too, oblivious about the evacuation- Until the day of the quarantine. Malls were looted, streets pack the panicked city dwellers, and even Internal Homeland Security scattered. Having been entrusted with a great deal of responsibilities, the Deck knows only one thing, their job to protect the client’s assets and to defend it at all cost. After all, to these elite mercenaries money is there only interest.
“Quarantine on what? The day is fine as usual, minor crimes here and there, that’s obvious. But quarantine? Why? It makes no sense at all.” Chief sat bewildered in front of a portable television set that displayed a News Alert.
Colin “Chief” WMD, joined by Dr Crazyface, Feon Kensai, Wayfarer2007 and Lego Minifig presumed their objectives, starting from a small suburb called Williamsville and using the old and now derelict Hurst Square School as their hang-out place. Day after day, they barricaded banks after another to protect it from looters, ensuring that no one could lay a footstep on those ceramic tiles. The word “Tired” is never in their dictionaries, so there they go at what they do best- Protection of their client’s assets.
Along came the Outbreak, never ever seen before catastrophe where fellow humans attacked their own species. Things go horribly wrong; some humans cannot walk properly, let alone run, and man, they looked idiotic. Their hair is messed up, as though they have not touched water for the past few decades. Hands, feet and jaws are awkwardly dislocated; some are even with no arms. Some of the ladies’ clothes are torn and well, they looked sexy and uh, revealing. Fleshes are often seen dangling right off their thighs and shoulders too.
“Hey guys, check out that girl, she’s fumbling like mad! Man, she must be drunk right up in the middle of afternoon. What a noob!” Lego chuckled while peering out of the 4-storey Hurst Square School window.
“She’s infected. The same goes to those other silly-walking humans. They aren’t humans anymore, they are a living dead. They said to be caused by a fatal outbreak of a new virus strain. A virus strain called “VigorMortis”, this virus basically revives the dead, yet rendering them useless as a human being. Their known nature so far, is that they are forever hungry and they feed off humans- like us. She’s probably on the hunt right now-.” Feon explained to Lego and the rest of the decks while holding to an expired and torn newspaper.
“Our job has just gotten more interesting uh? Just how we liked it… C’mon guys, we got lotsa’ things to do.” Colin interrupted and grinned with confidence. Ushering the rest of the fellow D52s into a classroom which somewhat has been customized into a meeting room. -
Written by WarMachina
