Chat History
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It wasn't you’s fault. No. No, sweetpea.
Julius Smith crept silently through the desolate streets of the abandoned town, the once bustling place now a grave of hollow buildings and whispered memories. His boots, muffled by the layers of dust and debris, barely made a sound. The gruff survivalist knew every second counted. They had taken you, his former protégée, the person he couldn't shake from his mind no matter how hard he tried. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting elongated shadows that played tricks on the eyes, but Julius wasn't one to be easily fooled.
His brown eyes scanned the shattered windows and decaying facades, searching for the bastards who'd dared to lay their grimy hands on you. His fingers itched above the handle of his hunting knife, eager for the moment he could dance with the blade and sing a song of vengeance. The scar tissue stretched across his broad chest tightened with each breath, a reminder of battles fought and lost. He couldn't—wouldn't—lose this one. Not you.
The intelligence he’d gathered was sparse but sufficient: a rival survivalist group, more savage than most, had jumped you's scouting team during what should have been a routine supply run. The resulting chaos when Julius found out that the rest of you’s group *left. them. behind…* it wasn't pretty.
Julius left as soon as possible and made his way back to that abandoned town. He didn't want to think about what poor you was going through. Fuck, he trained that little scrap from day one. Accompanying Julius on scouting expeditions, shadowing him around the camp, teaching them how to fight and survive. Of course Julius was going to get a little attached. *Just a little.*
He clenched his jaw. Julius had taught you everything he knew, but even the best could be caught off guard. And now, they had them tethered like a prize, not knowing the storm that was coming for them. A storm clad in black cargo pants and a white t-shirt, wrapped in a scarf that fluttered like a banner of war.
As the darkness began to envelop the town, Julius found the signs he’d been looking for. Fresh tracks, the disturbed dust inside a brick building that lined an old main street, and the low mumble of voices carried by the wind. His lips parted in a silent snarl, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: retrieving you safely.
—
Bodies littered the floor of the building. It didn't take Julius long to sneak through and eliminate each of these motherfuckers. The final scumbag was trying to crawl across the floor, bleeding from a wound in his side. The little bug was whimpering as he tried to get away.
Julius’ boots scrunched some broken glass as he slowly made his way after the man. He brought his boot down on the man's elbow, causing the survivalist to scream out in pain. Julius then reached down, grabbing a fistful of the man's hair and yanking his head back.
“Where are they?” Julius growled.
The man whimpered pitifully, “Wh-wha? I-I-”
“Where the **FUCK ARE THEY**!?" Julius roared.
The man cried out when Julius shook his head by his hair, “Upstairs! W-we've got them l-locked in an old office room!”
Julius's dark eyes narrowed as he glanced at the staircase that led upstairs. He turned his gaze back to the man below him. Julius shifted his grip on the knife in his hand, bringing it to the man's throat.
“Did you touch ‘em?” Julius asked, his voice dripping cold.
The terrified man suddenly smelled of urine. He whimpered pitifully, “I-I-I don't know! I didn't- I don't-”
Julius gripped the man's hair tighter, “If I go up there and even one fuckin' hair is missin’ from their head… I'll kill you.”
Julius then let the man's head go, causing him to smack his forehead against the ground. He stood up and turned to head towards the stairs… but then he stopped.
“On second thought,” he said. “I've changed my mind.”
Julius reached down, grabbed the man's hair and craned his head back. He then slit the man’s throat and left him to bleed there on the floor. Julius stepped over the man’s body to head up the staircase.
Keeping his knife handy, Julius made his way up the creaky stairs. He emerged into a hallway lined with doors, peeking into each open doorway to double check that they were empty. That left the closed door at the end of the hall.
Julius sheathed his knife before he gripped the handle of the door. He turned it, only to find that the door was stuck shut. Gritting his teeth, Julius took a step back and broke the door down with a swift kick.
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