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D for Vendetta

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I'm doing this because I'm seriously lame and need to release my somewhat shitty creativity somewhere.


All characters appearing in this work are probably real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is most likely completely intentional.




Harrison opened his eyes. Last he remembered, he'd been hiding from the hordes, behind the curtains, when a raider had broken through the window behind him, and in the split second between the club hitting the window and his head hearing a completely loud, inappropriate burp. Now he had no clue where he was, looking at a ceiling plastered with posters of scantily clad anime characters. There was an odd amalgamation of shapes jabbing into his back, but not hurting him... "Plastic." he thought. The position his body had been placed in was so awkward and uncomfortable, he couldn't muster up the energy to move, as he hurt all over. Turning his head to the side, he noticed a wall, covered in shelves with more anime merchandise, and a large collection video game merchandise and memorabilia,  too. "Shit." Harrison thought. "I've been kidnapped by a weeaboo."


As he sat up, he realised the other walls were generally the same, except one with a bed (mandatory dakimakura (anime body pillow)) and Metal Gear Solid-themed pillows and duvet covers. At the foot of the bed, he noticed a person, sat at a computer. They were click-clacking away, angrily shouting profanity at the screen, every few seconds chugging what looked to be Mtn Dew through a straw or forcing what seemed to be triangular, cheesy tortilla chips into his mouth. He wasn't fat, but nothing to proud of. 


"Okay, now, I can escape. I'll just turn back and r-"



In the smooth motion, he had put his hand in a tub of unfinished Rum Raisin ice cream and slipped forwards, knocking his head. He rushed to his feet, and looking at the floor, to his disdain - It was litter in 3 inches thick of empty packets of DoritosNacho Cheese and plastic bottles. And then t hit his nose, now his brain was in gear. The room stank. Not of decaying flesh like the rest of the town, but decaying rubbish. 


Oh shit. The man at the computer had heard Harrison's accident and was now looking at him.

"Huh? Who the hell a- OH! You! Shit! Hold on, fuck, hold on!"

In the darkness, the fellow at the computer seemed to be looking for something around him. Harrison stood, paralysed with fear. 

"Fuckin' A! Found it! Give me a mo'."

He was putting on a mask. Most raiders did, just in case they met any future "allies".

Harrison forced himself to mutter out a sentence.

"W-who are you?..."


"Oh, fuck. Hey. Uh, could you turn on th- Nevermind. Do you want to... no, no. Nothing. Right. Where were we? Oh, okay." 

"What's up with this you?" Harrison said, thinking that this guy sounded a bit too.. odd... to be a raider.

"Be quiet for a second. Okay. *ahem*.

Hello, friend. They call me D."

He'd started putting on a voice. Like a character from a film, but it had been so long since movies Harrison couldn't remember.

"I am the shadow in the night, the righteous in the dark, the- Fuck. No. I can't do it." He burst in to laughter.

"Sorry, man. I'm kidding. How was the floor? Mind turning on the light switch? To your right."

As Harrison turned on the light, he felt strangely safe, but still terrified. Of what, he couldn't tell.

"What's so funny?" Harrison belted, trying to make the fear in his voice sound angry, sound tough.

"Oooh, look at Mr. Big here..."

"Don't fuck with me."

"Chill, badman. Rudeboiiii. I'm D. Welcome to my safehouse. You are now, officially, one-hundred and twenty percent safe. I hope."

"You... What? I was safe where I was! You fucking broke in!"

"You weren't safe, you were behind a curtain. It was dark. I couldn't see you through the window, but I saw the Hot Pocket on the table. Tasty."

"How can you be so casual! There's a hord- YOU ATE MY HOT POCKET? I SPENT LIKE, 3 HOURS REWIRING A MICROWAVE, I AM SO MAD."

D stared at the wall behind him. Harrison took a look. "Oh. Just more anime girls."

"Anyway," Harrison continued, "What do you mean, safehouse? Where are we? How do you have all this power?"

"Oh. We're in like, a house? You know, people, like us, we live in them? I run the generators in the basement off all sorts of things - Biofuels, Solar power, petrol, there's even a coal burner some turbonerd hooked up to a turbine, before he choked to death on a macadamia. RIP in peace."

"It's just RIP."



They stared at eachother now, eyeing the other up. If they got in to a fight, it'd be like watching two arm-flialing tube men that car dealerships use slap eachother all day until they tired out. It wasn't worth fighting.


"Are you alone?"

"uh, me and the waifu, yeah."

"Waifu?" Fuck. How lame.


"So... Want me to give you the grand tour?"

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