The black S55 slid through the front gates. (By the time you figure out what was wrong with that, it won't matter anymore!) James watched as the gate closed and the car began speeding north. He felt an arm around his waist, "Where's he going?"
"Norway."
"Why?"
"He said he would rather handle it himself that to bring all that trouble here."
"What?"
"Don't worry about it."
"What about that girl?"
"... I dunno. She just was...around this morning."


The lock flew off the gate, and the gate was opened. The black car went through the gates onto the tarmac. The front right door opened and Skytzoe stepped out, followed by the passenger, a woman with dark brown hair and glasses wearing black. Skytzoe looked to the 747 about 700 feet away, "Alright Nikki. Let's go."
The pair began walking toward the jet, hand it hand. Skytzoe holding a duffel bag in his right hand. He stopped quickly as the lenses of his glasses turned clear. He then fell to the ground, blood running from a wound in his right leg. He looked to Nikki, "Get to the jet! Now!"
Skytzoe slowly stood and started running to the car as fast as he could, sniper bullets hitting behind him on his way. He unzipped his duffel bag, pulling out a black sniper rifle. He set the barrel of the rifle on the hood of the car, setting his cheek on the stock. He closed his right eye, looking through the green targeting reticule projected on the lens of his glasses.


James buckled his belt just as the fax machine began printing. He sighed and walked over to the fax machine as the paper came out. He picked up the piece of paper.


A spent casing tumbled out of the rifle. Skytzoe pushed the bolt back forward and down. He set the rifle down, quickly pulling a strip of cloth from his pocket, then tied it tight around his leg, below the knee. He looked at the HUD on the lens of his glasses, "Why aren't you going away?" He looked over the hood of the car, then placed the rifle back in the duffel bag. He stood up and began running as the five black vans came through the front gates. He turned around, reaching to his belt.
A crack in the windshield accompanied by a blood spatter from the inside of the vehicle, on the driver's side. He moved his free hand to his belt as the van swerved and flipped, tumbling through the air. As the van came to rest, a frag grenade bounced into one of the broken windows. Skytzoe picked up the duffel bag, holstering his Glock, then continued running to the jet as he heard an explosion, followed a few seconds later by a much louder explosion. He heard screeching tires. He was about 200 feet away. He stumbled as a round hit his white vest, then he fell as a bullet contacted his left leg. As he fell he felt sharp pains in his left shoulder, left arm, and his abdomen. He slowly struggled to stand.
A spurt of blood flew through the air, the source being Skytzoe's neck. Skytzoe fell to the ground, his eyes looking past his HUD on his glasses to the puddle of blood forming under him. He heard the sound of chain-link fencing clatter to the ground and screeching tires. He heard gunshots, then the unmistakeable clatter of an AK-47 as he was pulled out of the pool of his own blood.
A long, wide streak of blood behind Skytzoe, James pulling the empty drum magazine out of the AK-47, running toward Skytzoe and his son.

The front of Skytzoe's vest was no longer white. Instead, it was now blood red. His vest was pulled off by James, who began looking Skytzoe over. He looked to Dayton, "Bandages, lots of them"

what a horrible way to die.
is he dead?

Skytzoe looked up at James as bandages were wrapped around his neck, "Hey... I know you... You're that U.N. guy... You said we're fucked on national live T.V..."
"That's not me anymore. I quit when they bombed the city."
"You're the only one who can do this..."
"Don't talk, you're just wasting needed energy."
"Those scientists opened a Pandora's Box in Brazil. But they couldn't find what the last thing in it was..."
Skytzoe slowly rose his arm, his hand clutching a syringe, "...And this is it... This is the hope they couldn't find..."
James looked at the syringe, "But does it work?"
"I'm alive, aren't I?"
"Try to stay that way."
James grasped the syringe, slipping it into one of his pockets, Skytzoe continued, "... It's easy to synthesize, it can enter through the skin... Think of it as a chemical weapon..."
"Hang on..."
"Make sure she gets there..."
James looked over his shoulder, "Dayton, get my bag."
He turned back to Skytzoe, "Just a little bit longer..."
Skytzoe's eyes slowly closed. James pressed his fingers against Skytzoe's neck, then sighed, shaking his head.

Seven months later...

"Spirit one, ready."
"Spirit two, ready."
"Spirit three, ready."
"Spirit four, ready."
"Spirit five, ready."
"Affirmative. Initiate when ready."
"Roger that, Firebrand, initiating operation Renaissance."
"Copy that..."
James took his headset off, " Let's hope you're right..."

The bomb bays of all five bombers opened. 15 warheads dropped from each craft. 1,000 feet from the ground, the warheads deployed parachutes. 500 feet above ground, the warheads opened, deploying their payload.


One year, 3 months later.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Today is the beginning of a new age. Early this morning, the United Nations received a transmission from Australia. The report stated that the airstrikes executed on the infected populous showed positive effect. Even though there are areas that still remain infected, the U.N. declared the war against this disease over once more. But this time, with the opposite outcome. Ladies and gentlemen, we have been to the edge of extinction... And, this day will be remembered forever. Ladies and gentlemen, we have won the war."


Two weeks later.

Even though a cure for the disease was found, there is no cure for death. The black marble wall in exact location of the first initial attack. Ground zero of a nuclear device. James had his back turned toward the wall, facing a bronze, of a man with shoulder-length hair, wearing glasses, the man's left hand in the pocket, the other hand resting on the handle of one of the pair of handguns on his belt. The Havermale insignia was etched on the man's carved bulletproof vest. There was an engraving on the base of the bronze, " 'The Cure' Dedicated to the Memory of Brandon 'Skytzoe' Bogar. September 1st, 1988 - May 3rd, 2024."
James heard a metallic clink next to him, then the sound of steel scraping against flint, then a voice, "Hmm... A gun toting biochemist. Sounds sort of unlikely, but in those times, everybody was something they weren't. But there was a flaw in his cure. Some of them were immune. On that note, I have a flight to catch. Later days, Firebrand."
James turned around to see the man, but only saw the man's back, seeing that he was wearing a purple tee with black slacks, and a pair of black and purple DCs. James slowly began to turn around, until the man shook his shoulder-length hair. James kept his look on the man until he disappeared from view behind the marble wall.


One week later, Shrewsbury, England.


"We have incoming!"
"Stand your ground!"
"We have more at six o'clock!"
"Fuck... All troops, circle formation, now!"
The troops slowly broke from a single file row and then began forming a circle.
"Direct fire to the closest threats, don't let them get too close!"
A helicopter slowly flew over head then began hovering over the troops.

James watched the live feed on the television screen in his den, hearing the reporter, "This is hour three of the Shrewsbury conflict. They have stopped arriving and continue to push forward, even though the enemy is not making any progress. Wait, there's a solider breaking formation..."

"I'm out of primary! Who has an extra clip?!"
"Almost out."
"On my last here."
"Cover me!"
The leader stood, reaching to his belt. He knew there had to be thousands of them, "Let's do this..."

The two empty clips hit the dirt. He replaced the magazines in the handguns. His last two. He heard a yell behind him, "Hold your fire!"
"What the fuck are those idiots doing?"
The sergeant looked behind him, seeing a man in all-black running towards him, holding a rifle. The man stopped next to him.
James pressed the stock of the rifle against his shoulder and began firing. Spent casings flew out the weapon as his finger continued to contract around the trigger, once every second. Between reloading, a full magazine fell to the ground next to the sergeant.

The sun was reaching over the horizon. The sergeant took off his shirt, showing two scars from bulletwounds in his abdomen, one in his left shoulder, and one in his left arm. He dumped the contents of a canteen onto his head then shook his hair out. He turned toward James. James eyed the bullet scars on his neck, "I thought it didn't work, at first."
"Yeah, well, me too. But I still live to fight another day. Good work, Firebrand."
"Same to you, Skytzoe."

he's alive !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is that the end

if thats all new story??

we enjoyed that

Yeah that was good except the part how i found it hard to understand with like it not being in order

i understood easy

yeah i got the story but it wa..... Never mind

"I said hold your fucking ground!! They're not scared, why are you?"
Skytzoe's SA-80 shot a spent casing from the ejection port, another down. "More incoming from three and nine!"
Skytzoe stood up, "Fall back!"
He took the radio from his belt, "We need a N-head, twenty kays, south field!"
"Affirmative, be clear in twenty."
"Listen up! We got a twenty kay head coming in, let's move!!"

The bomb exploded with the force of forty-four million pounds of dynamite. Skytzoe uncovered his eyes as the white flash subsided, watching the mushroom cloud rise, ten miles from his location. Most explosives didn't have an effect against them, at least, the explosives that couldn't vaporize them on site, but nuclear weapons could do just that.
A drawback of this tactic, however, is that all the zombies too far from the blast zone to be disabled would become radioactive, even though the initial blast had an effect, radioactivity did not. For the past eight months no battle was fought outside the radiation and chemical proof shell of MOPP-4 gear.( linkity )
Skytzoe sighed, watching the cloud rise. There could have been survivors in that town... But at least it was better than the Russians were doing...

Finland/Russia border...

At least a million refugees, running from the disease, and every single one needed to be screened for any suspicious wounds, any that could come from a zombie. James looked to the sky, seeing the white form of a Blackjack bomber scream overhead. It flew away a distance then circled around. He watched as the bomb bays opened, then bombs being deployed. James crouched down as he watched the bombs fall, waiting for an explosion.
He felt his entire body get covered, with something. He slowly stood. He watched all the other soldiers, also in MOPP 4 gear stand. James rose his hand and watched as an amber drop fell from his glove. An unprotected civillian rose, letting out a moan.
Let the infected stay infected, let the uninfected die. Less zombies than there already were. And finally, a use for all those thousands of gallons of VX the Soviet Union had acquired during the cold war...

So what are you typing up now?

its the same story but its about the war mainly

Oh so its like somethin so the thread can keep going

yep

or someone else can write something