LeonXIII

Sharpie's body was in an adrenaline state. Using his peripherals, he searched the ground for a makeshift, close-ranged weapon that he could use to distract most of the ferals from over-running the camp. Cursing to himself, he continued to shoot the oncoming waves of Ferals.

Peeeww...Chhkk. The last sound his rifle made. A symphony of shots could still be heard around him, but he would no longer be the conductor. Searching his pockets and the floor for nearby fuel cells, he stumbled upon a small blade. As he picked it up, he closely examined it, battered, blood strewn, and otherwise worthless against this many Ferals. I'll keep this just in case... he thought to himself.

Withdrawing his Laser Pistol, he watched as more outcasts were running toward his location. Aiming past them at the Ferals trailing the runners, he shouted, "I'll cover you, just keep running!" Sharpie squeezed the trigger, falling the closest Ferals to the group. This'll be one hell of a day...

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