Secret Salvation of the Afterlife -Chapter 3

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We all had it on our minds, that one thing, the ghosts we became. It was so weird, yet interesting. So I had to think about this. The ghosts produced electricity to bring us back to life. With the route of power Alcatraz takes, we can use it for other things. Mainly powering, or shutting down certain things. But it was weird, definitely. Sal felt uncomfortable about talking back to that 'thing', and doesn't feel like bending the rules. It was somethin' crazy how he looked. Almost like he was ready to beat us dead. When we had enough 'points' we opened the door, and we're lead to our original cells, over by the Cafeteria. After slaughtering a lot of undead, my pockets were feeling heavy, so I opened the cafeteria. The others we're searching for suspicion. Yet one thing that caught our eyes as soon as we entered the room, was this large demonic box. "Guys! I think I just found Pandora's fucking Box!" Billy exclaims, as he runs over. While Sal, and Finn hold up the line outside, we observe the room. "I think it's safe to say we found the first Demonic thing in this rust that won't kill us!" I say, as I take a spin at the box. It gave me a Mini-gun, Heavy Artilery, Heavy weight. "Oooh-ho-ho! THIS is huge!" I exclaim. Sal runs over, after spinning the box with an 'M1927 Tommy'. "Remember that Turf War of 22'? This round-mag meat rack saved me Lead, and life!" He chuckled. Finn takes a spin, and pulls out the FAL. "This seems all to fun, with never-ending lead. Hell, it'll punch holes in them faster than Billy can knock-out a challenger in the ring!" Billy scowled at him "Oh yeah, Finn? Let's see you take shots and pass out on the first one!" He chuckled, and decided to savor his money. "Do you even need bullets to knock these things out, Bill? You break a bone just by beating them with the nose of your shotty!" Sal questions, "I don't know how or why, but these things come back stronger and stronger by the round. Eventually, he'll break the barrel like a twig." I reply. we wait up for the round announcement, then cut to killing.


The round was almost over, we found out that we could slow down the pace by snapping their legs off with frags. I told them about the afterlife thing, and they didn't believe me. I made sure they did. "Weasel, you don't have time for this, we gotta get that key lowered from there." I chuckled, and replied: "I'll get it down for ya'." I approach the circuit board, and blow myself dead with the voltage. Next thing I know, I'm flying high to the generator room above, and blowing out the fuse. I return to my body, and call em' over. "Hey boys! we got the key!" I hollared, they came over swift, and looked at me. "You sayin' Weasel, the scrawny guy caught up to that!?" Billy said, Sal replied "No, he used that ghost stuff, to lower it. Good thinking Al!" We look around for anymore suspicion, and notice the construction table in the back. "The hell is this doin' here?" Finn says. I take a moment to study up the blueprints. "Hey wait, I've seen this before! Some shield idea I had!" I toss open my notebook to a page with identical blueprints, and a list of parts, and their locations. "Weasel, I don't know what you do in your spare time, but it certainly helps." Sal says, the rest really seem to see me as the brainer here, which I admire, but I wouldn't have made this before everything happened. I remember drawing these blueprints out, but never exactly when. "Well, we should start looking around for things we need. This shield looks pretty helpful with the right pieces." So we killed off the crawlers, and got to work. It was round seven, and by the start we could here something, the ground cracking again, and out came Ferguson. He was angered, running towards us "YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM THE LAW!!" He said stampeding forward. I mounted my weapon over some wall'd debre, and opened fire. "YOUR TOYS CAN'T SAVE YOU FROM HELL!!" He said, charging towards the four of us, zombies followed behind him. "Really wish I took a spin at that box!" Billy exclaims as we lock and load.

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