Tools of the trade.

Here are A couple real tools of the trade.

I wonder how many thousands of people die yielding fantasy weapons like chainsaws, fake swords and large caliber firearms.  I once saw a lucky bastard take a single swing as a loan moaner with his store bought 'samurai' sword when the the blade snapped over it's skull.  In the ensuing scramble the same fella dropped 4 moaners with a piece of rebar imbedded in a chunk of concrete.  I suppose if there was time to blush, he would have. 

It's hard to fathom how many lives have been saved with a simple claw hammer, and how many lives have been taken by the shoddy construction of a Klingon Ceremonial dagger.

The above left weapon was a very popular mod to a first gen hooligan bar.  In the early days of looting, door prying and lock pulling the early generations of the hooligan bar made sense.  Not only were there the moaners to worry about, but there was the unattended locks, doors and barriers that created deadly blocked exit routes. There were a couple disadvantages to the early hooligans. The side mounted pry bar would not allow pecking through cracks.  It was one of the first mods to get ground away in later versions.  The first generation also had the disadvantage of being only forwardly directional.  Many users welded loops on the shaft to give a second chance at keeping hold of the weapon if it became lodged into something.

The above right is the later generation Hooligan, also known as the 'Nutcracker'.  The hand loop is wisely shielded, the prybar is now ground down, and puncture points are added to the top, bottom and reverse side.  The Nutcracker is also designed for plunge kills.  The user can hold the two points at the top and plunge into craniums from above.  This move is known as the jackhammer.   The other plunge technique is when the user unravels the lanyard and drop the Nutcracker from a height for 'Anchor' kills.  Be warned, Anchor kills do risk loss of the weapon if it becomes tangled or snagged, but when you are trapped in a floor above, and cant spike them with jackhammers, the anchor drop will have to do.

The dignity of being prey...

When the drone of the crush is in the air, dignity takes a back seat fairly quickly.  The smorgishborg of ancient military rations and barely palatable scavengings takes its toll.  Long gone are the days when we adhered to our mothers exposition that dessert comes after dinner, or eat your vegatables.  Even expiration dates are meaningless.  If it's edible, and it won't kill you, it will provide fuel to your system for one more day.  Maybe that one extra day is when the sun  comes back.   So for now, we wrack our digestive systems with the rancid moldy, and dry.  To live through the crush means we fight with cramps and spazms.  We steal from vultures, and eat anything to survive.  We are closer to our hunters than we would like to admit.

Humanity retreating to higher ground.

What could be mistaken as snow, is really ash from months of burning metropolises. The sky is perpetually blocked by smoke, and it seems like an eternity since the last sunny day. The lucky[?] few to have escaped fire, looters, disease and the damned themselves, have resorted to living above the feeding hordes in shanty towns built hundreds of feet above the ground.

Metropolitan Zombie Defense...

An asshole once said..

"I have yet to see a zombie invasion visually depicted to the scale at which it would really happen. This is getting there, but I suspect if all of LA were zombies, and you were in the middle of it, the spectacle would be quite grand."

Well, I wondered if it was so grand while he felt his own cranium collapse under the gritting mandibles of more sets of teeth that would fit on his face...

You can see a defense has been waged at one side of the LA river. Tactical teams have drained nearby tanker cars of fuel and ignited the river in hopes to stem the tide of the zombie crush. Most of the zombies brains have boiled or ashed while crossing, but not all. The remaining crush is blocked by a hastily erected wall of concrete and rail cars.

While heavier armament peppers the crush with bomblets and incindiary devices, perimeter forces have retained a defense by literally building a wall of corpses through well placed small arms fire.

This defense is on a timer.. and the timer corresponds to the amount of fuel, and ammunition left in reserve. When both are depleted it's time..

Please note that it is customary for active defenses such as these to paint defensive zone markings in order to reduce friendly fire. For anyone trying to approach defenders, take great care to boldly mark yourselves by holding upraised flags or other objects that clearly demonstrate destinct cognative reasoning to be recognized as human.

Sea Port

It's hard to imagine our future. The blind huddled billions, clinging to words as if they could feed and protect them out of the thin air. I laugh when I think back to a time when we could debate if animals had souls. ..Now.. I don't dare to ask if we have souls. As if just uttering the words, would cause our souls to be snuffed by the great mass of darkness it took for each one of us to survive to this point.

Desolace

They didn't know it, but today was the last sunny day.  We did not know that the remainder of our lives would be spent under the orange hue of the flames of humanity.


Rumors of disease and martial law makes the days of H1M1 seem simply rosy and fantastic. All power is down, and most roads are blocked. The infrastructure of society is quickly grinding to a halt.

Fortunate few are prepared for what lies ahead, but the most fortunate may not have made it even this far. From this point forward fear is what holds humanity together. For the first time in ten thousand years, we are the prey. I like to think the earth's final though was, Welcome back to the animal kingdom shit heads...