By the sound of it, someone else must have emerged from their hangover too.
He opened his eyes to the sound of distant moans.
Wait, I didn't get drunk last night.
He looked down the city block toward the noise with an expression of mock curiosity. Groggily he stood up, cracked his back, and took inventory of himself. Everything seemed to work fine, all fingers and toes intact but for the dark smudge blotting out his memory of recent events. He looked about the street laid out in front him. It was empty and, except for the silence, nothing seemed out of place.
Jesus, the whole world's got wasted
The quiet alone was enough to make a person want to scream. He turned back to the wall behind him. It belonged to a hospital by the looks of the white washed walls. There were more moans to the south and what might have been a small explosion, but this time he didn't seem to notice the comotion. He stood rivited to the sidewalk, craning up to stare at the writing scrawled in red paint across the "Emeregency Exit" door. It read WELCOME TO HELL
Sirs found out in short order what had gone wrong in Malton, though he never could put together how he got into this mess. Taking the hospital's silent offering of shelter, Sirs defends St. Elisabeth's Hospital (Lukinswood) when he can.
|This user is a Doctor and is probably off healing someone.|
|Supporter of River Tactics|
|I flow into the void.|
|Proud To Be Alive|
|This user is a survivor and proud of it.|