User blog:Redknight910/WWYD Hellhound, Cheshire Cat Anon

We've done it once, we can do it again. We've got better weapons and armour than last time, even if Ware's gone...

We look at each other, nodding. We've got to move, and fast. We break out of our tent sprinting, Chesh warping up onto one of the control towers with her rifle. She gives us cover, but it looks like this new strain of infection is doing more than just vocal damage. They seem even angrier than before, and Hells' Shotgun just keeps them back. I shoot whatever I can with my assault rifle, trying to keep the path clear.

When we get to the copter our hearts sink. The pilot's on the roof, fending off three infected harpies, while a bunch of mangled corpses lay around the pad. I call for Chesh to focus on them, and we keep moving, hoping we're not too late. We reach the man who's piloting the helicopter, and he's already showing signs, several gashes in his arm telling us more than we need to know.

I put a bullet in him to make it quick, and turn to the ramp, Chesh is fighting off several harpies, warping from point to point to avoid them, while me and Hells fight off whatever comes up the ramp. When a voice comes over the copters radio asking if the survivors are secure I grab the pilot's headset. I tell them that the pilot and crew are dead, and we're not going to get much longer at this rate. Hells then grabs the headset and yells at them to get another pilot out here.

There's no answer, and Hells throws the headset at one of the infected. Chesh shows up nearby and looks at us, eyes wide and face worried. "We're not getting out, are we?" She asks. I sigh, shaking my head. I don't think we are.

"Well, I'm going give these assholes something to remember us by then!" Hells shouts, jumping into the copter and grabbing the mounted gun. "HAVE SOME OF THIS ROT BAGS!" She screams as the gun winds up. She unloads into the oncoming infected, shredding most of them into a red mist.

We all agree to make our last stand. We grab anything and everything that has ammo in it on the pad. Anything Hells misses we rip through with whatever we have. Soon the infected are starting to thin, and we realise the walled location only had a hundred people inside. Once the incoming waves are reaching a manageable level, we breathe a sigh of relief, leaning against the copter.

"Did we... Did we actually do it?" Chesh asks, knocking out any infected she spots from her vantage point.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"You're damn right we did!" Hells cheers, I walk down and look for the headset the pilot was wearing. When I find it I growl at Hells, it's soaked in infected blood and covered in bits of goop that was probably once part of the infected. One infected twitches and Hells brings her axe down on its skull.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Sorry..." She mutters as she tries to pull the axe out. We then explore what's left of the safe zone, hoping to get a hold of a radio or something we can plug into the helicopter to communicate. We eventually find a radio and get it to the right frequency. Before I can say anything Chesh grabs the mic.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Hey! Listen here, we cleared the area and now we need a damned pilot for that bird you left here. GET. US. OUT. NOW!" She slams the mic down on the table as if it would make them pay mroe attention.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Just a moment ma'am, did we read that right? You cleared the infected from the safe zone?" There was a blast from a shotgun and Hells walked in, grabbing the mic off of Chesh.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Clear enough, now how about that damned ride out? It's starting to really stink around here." There were a few moments of silence before the voice came back.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Alright. We've dispatched a pilot, they should be there by nightfall." We all visibly relaxed at that, and I thanked the person over the radio.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">We made our way back to the helicopter, trying not to let our nervousness show. When our pilot arrived we were speechless. A gout of flame announced her approach, and she landed on the wall before taking on a more human appearance. A dragon.

<p style="margin:12pt0cm;line-height:15.75pt;"><span style="font-size:10pt;font-family:Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Well, it seems like you three made quite the mess." She smirked at the blood soaked stairs. "What say we get the hell out of here?" None of us could have agreed faster. We were finally out. We were finally safe. At least, we hoped we were.