Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Skorn: Origins, or "How it all began"

Hey guys!

So if your reading this that means you've back for more. Sweet!

I suppose it would help if I explained how all this began. At least in regards to my involvement anyway:

Believe it or not, but I haven't always been an agent of The Company. I used to be a regular Joe like you.

I worked nine to five for a police force maintaining their networks and telling officers to fix their issues by turning it off and on again.

Fuck me! The number of times I had to tell them to turn it off and on again! And what would you know? It fixed it!

Anyway, do you guys remember that incident in Surrey with the Zombies? No? Of course not.

You see for as long as the modern world has existed there have always been people like me making sure that people like you don't see the real world, behind the scenes and what makes things tick. When something rises from the depths of the Atlantic to feast on d20 souls per turn, we're the ones who keep you thinking that it was a nuclear weapons test, or the supposed remains of a giant squid, that sort of shit.

Amazingly this shit happens more than you realise. When you read about a dog going crazy and being put down? Most of the time it's true, but every once in a while, it's a werewolf. The armed response who dealt with it? Me and my buddies.

Those incidents of crazed druggies hyped up on PCP? Zed Heads

Anyway, roughly a year ago I was at ground zero of one of these incidents.

C-147B it's classified as. C-147B.

Between you and me it's much more than a classification. It was the time I realised there's more to this world than we see.

It started small and thankfully never got out of hand, but not before a good friend of mine was bitten and put down.

You see, as that dude said in that film with that woman in, in the land of the infected, the immune are king.

And that's what happened. Me and my friends, there's something about us, for some reason that I don't understand we're different. The boys in the lab call us "Bees".

All that matters is that we're immune to this Zed shit, same as that black goo they call the Filth.

My friend? She wasn't immune.

Anyway, it was then that the Company picked me up and threw me down the rabbit hole and I've been chasing carrots ever since.

But that's not to say it's all bad. The Company? They fixed me right up, installed some chip in my head that turbofies my tech talent and regulates my motabalism. I mean shit! Before all this I had a beer belly and had to count every calorie just to stop myself being counted as 'morbidly obease'. Now I can eat what I want when I want and still look like an extra from Spartacus!

Fast forward through more paperwork than you could stomach, weeks and months of stamina building and firearms use and the Company thought I was ready for my first field op.


Wait, what?

Fuck! They're zeroing in on my transmission site!

Fuck Fuck!

Ok I'm going to have to carry this on another time once I've got another secure node.

Remember, fight the whispers!


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