The FandomTropolis Welcome Party Is Made Of Zombies.
There is no valet parking, and this is tragic.
So far, it's one of the larger flaws that Patrick has found in Strawberry Fields. It's a charming place, with cheery colors and greenery lining the streets. His own apartment is one of the classier flats in the building, facing the Tam River.
Patrick sat in the drivers seat with the car parked, hands clutching the steering wheel. He takes a deep, calming breath, and his grip loosens. New place, new people. A smooth entrance was needed. No screwing this up. His grip tightened on the wheel again. He was not going to be Patrick Bateman, the boy next door, the loser that no one could bother to match with a face too. Forcing himself out of the vehicle, he walked around to the trunk.
All he has with him is some luggage. He'll send for more of his things later, along with ordering furniture for his apartment. Opening the back, Patrick took out the first suitcase. Setting it down, he heard a scuffling sound from behind him. He paused breifly, then resumed unloading the trunk.
It came again, louder this time. There also seemed to be more...scuffles. A putrid smell drifts towards him. Patrick sets the second suitcase down slowly, before looking toward the sound.
It's revolting. Rotting flesh shifts and hangs loose on bones as trio scuffle shuffle shuffle scuffles toward him. Some are missing eyes, others are missing entire muscle groups. Dissentigrating burial clothing This hallucination obviously had no root in reality.
Which was just fine, really.
Never looking away from the slow moving attackers, Patrick quickly removes his outer coat and suit jacket, laying them down in the trunk. Reaching a little farther in, he unveils a shiny axe. His gun was still in the front seat of the car, so instead of quick and semi-clean, this was probably going to get messay. He makes a mental note to put the his gun holster to actual use in the future. Patrick hefts up the axe, and without any further delay, he lunges sharp side first at the zombies. Hacking at the arms of the closest corpse a grin spreads across his face. Zombies: Super-undead strength, something about biting...but they had to catch you first. Patrick knows he's fast enough.
He decapitates the now armless zombie and moved on to the next with a hard swing to the skull. The creature throws up a blocking arm, and the axe slices through it's wrist, slowing the motion down just enough to imbed the blade in the bone and trap it there. The zombie toppled, clawing with it's one hand, dragging Patrick down as well. He yanked hard on the axe, but it stay stuck.
The third zombie moves forward to take advantage of the mishap. Patrick yanked again, before stomping the hell out of the fallen zombie's head. At the same time, the third zombie grabbed hold of him. He struggled, trying to escape it's grasp but it held tight. His twisting only resulted in the zombie winding up behind him, one zombie hand on his neck and another like a vise around his upper arm. Patrick's own hands were still on the axe handle.
This felt pretty damn real for a hallucination. Of course, the others had felt real as well, and they'd been so well anchored in reality, that he couldn't tell which had been imagined and which hadn't. This was no different. Pushing against the axe handle, he proppelled himself backwards and off his feet, landing with a loud squish of zombie inards. Rolling off the body, he scrambled to his feet before jumping repeatedly, with all his weight, on the oozing remains.
Certain that all three are perminently dead, he stands for a moment to catch his breath. Immediatly, he wishes he hadn't. The stench is overwhealming. Dispose of the bodies, he's got to get rid of them...
But they aren't even real.
He stares at the remains, pondering.
The evidence was always gotten rid of before. I always did clean up. Best to do the same now. It pains his senses greatly, but soon his axe is retrieved and the larger portions of the bodies are deposited into a dumpster. Some of the paper from the dumpster is dipped in gasoline, set on fire and...viola: Zombie Flambe'.
Walking back to get his suit cases and close the car trunk, he sees something odd. Moving closer, he nudges a sewer cover with a gore covered shoe. Peering down, he sees nothing but blackness. Patrick pushes the sewer cover back in place. At the car, he wipes his face and hands off on the blanket that had originally covered the axe, before cleaning off the said weapon and carefully wrapping it in the blanket to take with him to the apartment.
OOC: If you find any errors in this, or anything wrong with it at all, please contact me. Thank you.