Zombies. Fox felt physically ill. It was one thing to deal with the nurses, those were traumatic, but they were the enemy. These were for the most part just normal people, going about their lives. He watched, and felt the heat on his face from Snake's improvised flame thrower as the zombie was dispatched.
"I didn't know it extended this far out..." Fox admitted with a small amount of horror in his voice. These town people, just going about their lives. Did they even know what happened to them at night? Did this happen every night, or was it only because they were here? He recovered from the shock quickly, hiding behind the familiar adrenaline and will to survive that came with combat.
His back was glowing again, though it was barely visible through the heavy green jacket he wore. "You're not alone, Snake. I died too," Fox pointed out, not wanting Snake to dwell on his own death. "We need to arm ourselves and find Otacon." The bar seemed the best place to do that, though there were a few zombies that needed to be dispatched. Fox carefully gave them as much distance as possible as he dashed to the bar.
Would they come back tomorrow, the way the staff did? Or was this going to be a town massacre in the morning, caused by mental patients. Fox managed to grab a bar stool and break a leg off it quickly, before the relatively slow moving zombies had a chance to react much.
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"I didn't know it extended this far out..." Fox admitted with a small amount of horror in his voice. These town people, just going about their lives. Did they even know what happened to them at night? Did this happen every night, or was it only because they were here? He recovered from the shock quickly, hiding behind the familiar adrenaline and will to survive that came with combat.
His back was glowing again, though it was barely visible through the heavy green jacket he wore. "You're not alone, Snake. I died too," Fox pointed out, not wanting Snake to dwell on his own death. "We need to arm ourselves and find Otacon." The bar seemed the best place to do that, though there were a few zombies that needed to be dispatched. Fox carefully gave them as much distance as possible as he dashed to the bar.
Would they come back tomorrow, the way the staff did? Or was this going to be a town massacre in the morning, caused by mental patients. Fox managed to grab a bar stool and break a leg off it quickly, before the relatively slow moving zombies had a chance to react much.