Source: Shacknews
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Your sweaty palms quiver as they grip your pistol--a pistol with only one bullet remaining in the chamber. You whirl at the sound of feet that shamble at first, then pick up speed upon recognizing you, the Survivor. The rest of your team is dead. They're the lucky ones. The Smoker races toward you, its grotesque tongue dangling from its mouth. You saw that very same tongue yank a member of Bravo team into the air and over the edge of a rooftop, and while you didn't see what happened next, you heard the screams--and the other noises; the tearing, the rending.
Apr 6, 2007, 08:26 PM
