Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[107] Not today

As the chainsaw continued to cut a bloody path through the undead, its savage, mechanical roar amplified, reverberating through the otherwise silent city streets. The sound, an enticing siren's call to the remaining zombies, quickly started drawing a larger crowd.

The horde began to move in, drawn to the racket, bodies shifting and shambling towards me. Yet they remained passive, just an arm's reach away, their lifeless eyes glossing over me. It was a twisted tableau, a grotesque anomaly amidst the chaos. It was as if I were invisible, a phantom wreathed in the stench of decay and the drone of a chainsaw.

Despite their monstrous appearance and their deadly reputation, the zombies were like lifeless puppets in my presence, converging around me without showing any signs of aggression. Their jaws snapped aimlessly, their arms reached out for unseen targets, but they did not lunge. They did not bite. It was as if an invisible barrier surrounded me, repelling their mindless violence.

The chainsaw was heavy in my hands, its vibrating, cutting roar an echo of the heart-pounding adrenaline coursing through my veins. With every step I took, the gory trail in my wake grew wider, painting a crude path through the sea of lifeless bodies. The stench of decay and the wet squelch of the chainsaw's teeth meeting rotten flesh filled the air, a gruesome testament to my relentless assault.

Zombies, their decaying bodies standing in my way, fell one after another. Their bodies ruptured, dismembered and disemboweled as the chainsaw tore through them, their lifeless forms scattering like leaves before a storm. And yet, in their staggering numbers, they continued to follow, drawn by the tumultuous drone of the chainsaw, ignoring the carnage it wrought.

The sidewalk beneath my boots was slick with gore, a viscous mixture of rotten flesh and dark blood that clung to the asphalt and painted my world in macabre hues of crimson and black. Yet, I kept moving forward, the chainsaw's relentless hum serving as my guiding beacon, my line in the sand between life and death.

In my wake, a procession of the undead followed, their aimless, shambling forms trailing after me like grotesque shadows. Despite their ravenous hunger, their primal instinct to devour, they remained strangely placid, their aggression subdued by the enigmatic barrier that enveloped me.

I was the eye of the storm, an epicenter of chaotic stillness amidst the swirling tempest of rotting flesh and gnashing teeth. Each step forward was a hard-fought victory, a testament of human tenacity against the overwhelming tide of the undead.

The decaying hands reached out, the lifeless eyes stared, and the gnashing teeth snapped, but they never touched me. It was as if I was a ghost among them, unseen and untouched, a phantom passing through their ranks. The roar of the chainsaw was my rallying cry, a clarion call echoing through the ravaged city streets, cutting a bloody path for my friends and I through the gnashing maw of the undead.

As I carved my way forward, I drew the horde with me, their silent pursuit a grim parade in my wake. The cityscape blurred around me, a backdrop of fire and ruin against the grating symphony of the chainsaw and the guttural moans of the undead.

Even as the night deepened, shrouding the world in an oppressive cloak of darkness, I forged on, the chainsaw's insatiable roar a brutal lullaby in this nightmarish world. And so, I continued, my path lit by the soft glow of burning buildings, my footsteps echoing amidst the chilling chorus of the undead.

In the face of certain death, I held on, the weight of the chainsaw becoming an extension of my will. With every step, every cut, every fallen zombie, I was writing a message in their gore, spelling out a single, unyielding word – survival.

Not today...

Not today.

"Not fking today!"

Q: Have you played L4D2 before?