Zompipocalips ~ a crack fic

Chapter 4: Fighting Lessons with Ruth

The scot led them all the way to an abandoned building on the outskirts of the base. The male stripper and priest followed him, feeling nervous and unsure. They had never been in a situation like this before, and the thought of fighting for their lives was daunting.

As they entered the building, the rogue Irish convict explained that he had set up this place as a training ground. He showed them the various rooms and obstacles, explaining how each one was designed to simulate different combat scenarios.

The rogue convict, Ruth, stood in front of Carlos and Niko, his arms crossed and his face twisted in a scowl.

"A'richt, ye twa" (Alright, you two) he barked, his thick scottish accent prominent.

"Listen up! if yi'll waant tae survive oot 'ere, yi''ll need tae ken howfur tae rammy. 'n' ah'ament talking aboot flailing yer arms 'n' hoping fur th' best. Yi''ll need tae be smart, yi''ll need tae be strategic, 'n' yi''ll need tae be strong."

(Listen up! If you want to survive out here, you need to know how to fight. And I'm not talking about flailing your arms and hoping for the best. You need to be smart, you need to be strategic, and you need to be strong)

Carlos and Niko exchanged wary glances.

Based on what they've witnessed him do and say, They knew that he wasn't someone to be messed with. But they also knew that they needed his help if they were going to make it through this apocalypse alive.

Ruth continued, "A'm aff tae teach ye th' basics o' hand-to-hand combat. Ye'll learn howfur tae throw a batter, howfur tae block, 'n' howfur tae tak' doon an opponent. 'n' we'll wirk oan some ither techniques that wull come in handy in a pinch"

Carlos raised his hand tentatively. "But Ruth, I'm a man of peace. I don't believe in violence."

Ruth fixed him with a withering glare. "Weel, carlos, you'd better stairt believing in it, fur tis th' ainlie thing that's aff tae keep ye alive oot 'ere. Th' zombies dinnae care aboot yer beliefs, 'n' neither dae th' ither survivors."

(Well, Carlos, you'd better start believing in it, because it's the only thing that's going to keep you alive out here. The zombies don't care about your beliefs, and neither do the other survivors)

Niko snorted. "And what about you, Ruth? What makes you so tough?"

Ruth turned his glare on him. "I've bin in mair fights than ye kin jalouse, laddie. 'n' a've won ilka yin o' thaim. Ah used tae run wi' th' scots mafia, 'n' ah ken a thing or twa aboot survival."

(I've been in more fights than you can imagine, lad. And I've won every one of them. I used to run with the Scottish Mafia, and I know a thing or two about survival.)

Carlos and Niko exchanged another glance, this one tinged with fear. They knew they were in good hands with Ruth, but they also knew that he wasn't going to go easy on them.

As Ruth began to demonstrate some basic fighting moves, Carlos and Niko's attention shifted from Ruth's instructions to their own personal conflict. The tension between the two had been simmering since they had met, and now it was starting to boil over.

"You know," Carlos said, interrupting Ruth mid-sentence. "I think violence is never the answer. There's always a peaceful solution."

Niko rolled his eyes. "Oh great, another one of these pacifists. What are you going to do, Carlos, hug the zombies to death?"

Carlos shot him a withering glare. "I don't need violence to solve problems. I have faith in the goodness of people."

Niko scoffed. "Yeah, good luck with that. I'm not going to sit around and wait for people to turn good. I'm going to take action."