19 January 2013
Part 5
Drake looked as mad as the people he was killing, a one man army with nothing but an old rusty pipe that he called Lucy Lou for company. Six foot five and soaked in blood, his long black hair was swinging in the air as he fought his way through the crowd of crazy deranged people that could now only be described as wild animals.
It had only been seven hours since his daring escape from prison and he had already killed over thirty men, women and children, all with that same vacant look in there eyes as they tried to attack him and bring this man mountain down. Drake had escaped the crowd of people that were just as happy to attack each other and found shelter in a once friendly and busy local pub. After more than ten years without a pint he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by. He walked around the deserted bar and allowed himself a little grin as he took a glass and slowly poured himself a pint. He then heard an all to familiar clicking sound behind him. 'Don't move, stay where you are and put your hands in the air' Drake took a small sip of his pint, wiped his mouth, exhaled, then turned around and faced the stranger.
Dead End? • Opuss № I