[ IP ] Escape from New York

It's not the people that kill you. Not the bullets or the bats or knives. It's the silence. That hopeless depression that seeps into your very core. That's why I like to keep a pistol, safety off, at all times. Just in case one of the others tries to lighten up the mood with a suicide. I've gotten good at guns out of hands at this point. 
 
 Of course, that ruins their gun, but it's worth it to keep them alive. Not that we're really alive anymore. The virus is taking it's course in all of us, changing our body to metal. My left leg can kick through a wall at this point, and whatever controlls the metal death is n't letting up. Soon enough I'll be one of the walkers that wander around collecting scrap for the New American State. Since we're all not fully transformed yet, any metalheads we find try to capture us, to speed our transformation. 
 
 Luckily for us, they have shit aim. So here we are, outside the ruins of the Statue. We'll get a boat. Go to Europe. Escape. Die where they cant reach us. It's all we can do. It's what we have to do. The resistance wo n't take us. We wo n't die for the Metalheads. So we fight the silence inside us until we're far enough out to sea. Then we can off ourselves where we ca n't come back to serve the virus. We ca n't be free. But we wont be slaves.
