The Game Cafe in Marvel and DC

22 – West Point and Klamath

[A/N: I don't know why, but I encountered three writer's blocks when writing this chapter, causing it to take ages for me to write]

[You have died!]

[Congratulations on completing the tutorial!]

[Would you like to continue, or exit the game?]

Instead of replying, the Thug just stared at the screen.

Moments prior, he was defending against a zombie horde, shooting them with the shogun he obtained, and for a bit, looked like he was making progress, that is, until the fence fell, letting the zombies right into the small yard he was in.

Of course, it didn't take long for him to get overwhelmed and be ripped apart, screaming until he eventually died from the shock, as his eyes were ripped out, flesh stripped from his body, and organs were ripped out.

Now, he just stared at the screen, his expression blank, yet his eyes revealed something else, he was horrified.

Even if the pain was only ten percent, the pain from dying in such a way, was still almost too much for the man to bear, not to mention the brief moment of death.

Zeref noted that he would need to lower the pain experience to 5% in the tutorial.

By the time the man recovered from the shock, almost half an hour had passed in the game.

He laughed.

The Thug looked over his options, and without hesitation, chose to continue.

[Choose a spawn location]

[Muldraugh]

[Riverside]

[Rosewood]

[West Point]

Not even thinking, the man chose West Point with a smile, not realizing the trouble that awaited.

[Select your starting Occupation]

[Unemployed - Start with nothing but the clothes on your back (Hard)]

[Fire Officer - Start with a fire axe, a couple of flares, and a firemen's attire (Easy)]

[Police Officer - Start with a small handgun with a few magazines worth of ammo, a police uniform, a bulletproof vest, a baton, a radio, and sunglasses (Easy)]

[Park Ranger - Start with a hunting rifle and a few magazines worth of ammo, a hunting knife, a duffle bag filled with essentials, and a map (Medium)]

[Construction Worker - Start with a sledgehammer, a toolbag, and a construction worker's outfit (Medium)]

The occupation list continued on, listing a total of 22 options.

Volkov's eyes skimmed through the list until he chose one that felt the most appropriate.

Burglar.

Not exactly what he was, but close enough.

He would start with a crowbar, dark clothes, some lockpicks, and a pocket knife, not that he knew what exactly he was being thrown into.

Just after selecting, his vision went dark, before suddenly brightening as he found himself standing in a room with a crowbar in hand.

...

Meanwhile, in the world of Fallout, Kyle could be seen traveling the wasteland towards Klamath.

From his couple hours of walking, he could already tell the wasteland was more lively, there was more plantlife and wildlife, and he even spotted signs of a lot more civilized life, though not all of the signs were good.

Signs of camps, litter, bullet casings, old tracks and drag marks, and even dried blood at times.

Of course, he himself has run into the occasional wild beast and Feral Ghoul, though he hasn't run into anyone yet.

He was still about a day's walk away from Klamath, so, he's been using his bow and spear whenever possible, slowly but surely becoming more familiar with the items.

Turns out, Bows must have fallen under the [Small Guns] skill, seeing as he was getting the 'instinctual' feeling with the bow, greatly helping him when using it.

Luckily for him, he didn't have any issues with food due to the large amount of wildlife in the area he could hunt, which was a much better alternative to the pemmican the tribe gave him.

Pemmican was a mixture of dried fruits and meat, it tasted like shit but the food would last for long periods of time before spoiling, making them good food for traveling. So of course Kyle chose to hunt for food instead, finding the meat of the creatures roaming the wasteland to be much more appealing.

...

Zeref who was watching both men's journies couldn't help but smile.

Both men, while different, had the same determined eyes. Both would see through their journies all the way to the end, but Zeref wonders. What would they do, once they finish their journies and how would their journies change and influence them?

By the time Kyle reached Klamath, Volkov had died more than three times in Project Zomboid, the first two to zombies, and the last to blood loss.

Soon enough, Kyle reached Klamath, a small town of trappers that hunted the nearby Golden Geckos, which were large and deadly lizards with golden hides that could rip a normal man to shreds.

[A/N: If you are interested in what Golden Geckos look like, just look up the Fallout New Vegas variants]

Why would they hunt such deadly creatures, you may ask?

Their hide.

Not only does the hide offer decent protection against the local weather, but it also provides decent protection against harm due to how resilient and thick the hides were, making them quite valuable to traveling merchants.

Once in the village, Kyle sold a few of the things he kept from what little things he could hunt in the time he was traveling to the village for a bit of cash then got to work on doing some odd jobs around town.

The villagers didn't have much to offer when it came to goods and the local trader sold very basic leather armor, first aid kits, knives, and other utensils.

She, the trader, also offered to buy any Gecko hides Kyle obtains if he goes hunting for the Geckos in the area.

To Kyle's misfortune, the trader wasn't selling any firearms, so he was stuck with a bow, for now, he 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 did not like using a bow.

A gun was simply much more efficient and powerful.

---

Meanwhile, Volkov could be seen running down a street with a horde of forty zombies shambling not too far behind.

He ran as fast as he could down a neighborhood street before turning and jumping over a home's fence and into a house's backyard.

Not daring to look behind, he continued running and climbed into another house's yard, tumbling down to the ground in the second yard as his arms gave out.

He heaved and coughed as he accidentally inhaled a bit of dust from the landing.

Getting up from the ground, Volokov breathed heavily from exhaustion but marched on, he wasn't safe, the zombies were not far behind, and if he didn't keep moving, they'd soon be on him.

So, he quickly moved to the house and tried breaking in, knowing that the zombies were focused on the neighboring house, he should be safe long enough for them to forget about him and wander away.

With the crowbar, he went over to a window, and pried it open, ripping open the film netting to block out flies, and climbed inside, before closing the window behind him.

Finding himself in what looked to be a woman's bedroom, he grabbed a blanket and covered the window, taking a deep breath, he slowly crept towards the door and slowly opened it before peaking out to the hall.

Seeing a door across the hall and another to the right, ending the hall, he looked to the left and could see into what looked to be the living room and kitchen.

Opening the door all the way, he slowly crept into the hall and raised the crowbar, first, he started with the living room and kitchen, slowly walking forward and making sure to check his corners.

Seeing nothing, he continued forward, eventually making it past the kitchen and into the dining room, which was also empty.

Not even bothering to check the garage, he turned around and crept toward the other two rooms.

Starting with the one at the end of the hall, he raised the crowbar and slowly pushed the door open, revealing a bathroom.

Sighing, he motioned over to the last room and took a deep silent breath, and pushed it open, before gagging at the sight that awaited him.

Three rotting corpses with dried blood and brain matter coating the walls.

A pistol was in one of the corpse's hands.

A triple suicide, or possible homicide.

Slowly walking over and grabbing the gun, he left the room and closed the door, he walked back into the woman's bedroom, and moved a chest into the front of the door and a dresser in front of the window, blocking himself in.

Sighing, he checked the magazine of the gun, finding it to have only four bullets left.

Reinserting the magazine, he laid the pistol on the bed's nightstand and lay down.

It had been a long day, and he needed rest.

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