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sp86

A Love Letter to Bandit H.T

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I was just wrapping up a rescue mission when me and my crew spotted you. We'd found a boat, saved our Green boy's kit, and had even found some rare ammo in the Fire Station. We were feeling charitable, so when we saw you getting your ass caved in by zombies, we did the neighborly thing and cleaned them off you with precision Kalashnikov fire. They wanted to kill you, I volunteered to check on you instead. You played it cool, until you saw my coyote pack. I told you I was going to give you food and water. I told you that I was going to give you a blood transfusion. I told you that you had six kalashnikovs trained on you. You must've thought I was bullshitting, because you took the shot didn't you?

And that was the last thing that went through your head aside from the 7.62x39 round.

But that wasn't enough was it? We watched you respawn and respawn again and again and again, just trying to get that Otmel or Elektro spawn. You were too late though, we'd already stripped you bare and buried your body. So you scrounged. You'd found an old Winchester that I'd swapped for a dead survivor's AKM. I bet you figured you were clear to loot that other body on top of the power station, that we'd moved on. Then the shooting started.

You danced and you danced, but we were just taking potshots until our marksman could move forward. Did you feel it? Did you feel it in your chest when his rifle tore through your lungs? Did you feel it when our Green Boy climbed up and popped you in the head with a revolver to finish you off?

You were a dick H.T, and you died a dick's death. Twice.

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