He had everything he needed for the kill ready, even bringing his handgun just in case; even if he shook so bad there was no way he'd be able to fire straight. He was hoping if it came to it, then the adrenaline pumping in his veins should steady him some.
He slammed the heavy weapons locker shut, his arms quivering as he stood there for a moment, the room spinning around him. He pulled back his unkempt hair, and (away from his precious toy storage) began wishing he'd eaten something that morning. Throwing up stomach acid is a b***h.
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Red-headed rebel
This will follow the life of my character Wrecks, through his life as a drug abusive, alcoholic, zombie apocalypse surviving a*****e.
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They aren't going to motorboat themselves
Get it back on Tuesday
Oli kaiken nähny, kaiken kuullu, kaiken tiänny,
Oli kaiken tainnu, kaiken nähny, kaiken kuullu,
Oli kaiken tiänny, kaiken iannu, kaiken nähny,
Oli kaiken kuullu, kaiken tiänny, kaiken tainnu.