The streets were deserted. A lukewarm breeze, with a somewhat metallic scent, blew a torn piece of paper of the Atomic Daily News, with headlines from 3 years ago against a windowpane:
Korea and Sovjet declare war on the world
The store the windowpane belonged to was a drugstore. Apparently there had been a fight over the pharmaceuticals from back in the 'free-for-all' period, since there were many decomposing bodies scattered about the floor. The faces, even after 3 years of rotting and corpse-eating maggots and worms, still had the distinct features pure horror on them. As if the bomb had flashfrozen their final sight.
Some cracking sound was made in the back of the store, followed by a murmur that sounded as if something was torn apart. As the distance toward the stranger was covered, you could see he was leaning over his meal for the day. The stooped figure, having somewhat of a hunchback, rose to his feet. His greasy hair carelessly tied in what was supposed to be a ponytail. It was clear, as you could see from his back, that he was as thin as a toothpick, barely having bones under his leather-like skin, eventhough he was wairing a long black raincoat.
He raised his right arm to take another bite, which made it was visible that there was still a shoe attached to the limb he just tore off the rotting corpse. As he pressed his teeth in the calf he turned around. With a quick, surprisingly strong jerk he ripped the calf from its tendons, chewing on the meat as if it were a feast. He smiled gently as the maggots were falling from the corner of his mouch.
Ludacris joins the game.