The room was white, without windows or even light really. All there was in that room was a TV, Colin, and the chair he was tied to. Soon, the old man approached him, holding a bizzare contraption in his right hand.
"So, ready for some TV?" the old man asked.
"Not particularly judging by the gizmo you have there." Colin said.
"What? THIS?!" the old man said as he jammed the device onto Colin's head. It had tiny grips that forced the younger man's eyes open in order to make sure he couldn't avoid looking at the screen.
"What are you doing?!?!" Colin asked.
"You have skills... potential... all you really need is a healthy amount of rage." the old man said.
"Rage at those fucking cunts running amok. I'm gonna turn on the emergency broadcast channel, and leave you here for three days. See yah!" the man said as he clicked on the TV.
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Two days. In the span of two days, without any other thing to do, Colin watched the horrors of the bimbo plague as they unfolded right in front of him.
In the United States, the bimbos had already spread throughout the entirety of the central states, including Missouri. Missouri was the state in which his relatives lived: his Grandma Eliza, Granny Sherry, Aunt Shauntel, and his little cousin Rebecca. The report said that the army's attempt to rescue people in those areas as it spread had failed, and that the area was considered no man's land. Crushing pain filled his heart at the loss of people he had truly cared about.
He looked on in horror at the sight of his town overrun by Bimbos. He even saw a footage of a family trying to escape the horde, only to have their car swallowed up by it. The father tried fighting back, but the bimbos... those filthy walking spleuge machines... grappled him and forced him into intercourse. The man's body rapidly transformed: size DDD breasts that ripped his shirt in two, long blonde hair, the hips and butt of a girl in a rap video... he was turned into one of those filthy creatures. He turned on his own family... it was horrible to watch. Colin's mind raced as images of his mother and sister being infected and reduced to mindless sluts raced through his head, and then came the footage that sent him over the edge. He saw those bimbos breach the Regan... the ship his father worked for.... and turn his father into one of them. It had become too much... he had nothing left and he couldn't do anything to stop it.. the loss... the heartache... THE RAGE!
"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!" Colin yelled as he mustered his strength and toppled the chair so hard it hit the wall and broke. Colin ripped the mask off as the older man came in. Colin simply grabbed the old man and smashed his head against the wall. Colin had no need for the old fart and had to prepare.
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Ending: The Rise of Nomad
In the end, Colin Grey had ceased to exist. In his place was the man with a singular goal: Slaughter every single filthy miserable bimbo that crossed his path. He donned a dirty black hoodie, put stolen police body armor over it, gorged on the food that he could find, and finally stocked up on weaponry. He grabbed two revolvers, a polewalski, a hunting knife, a rifle, and last, but not the least, a sawed-off double barrel hunting shotgun.
News spread as word of mouth did, of a man who decimated entire hordes of bimbos. Who shot them, ripped them apart, and hacked into them with sheer ferocity.... once beating a bimbo to death with his bare hands in a bloody display. A man who never stayed in one place for long. A ghost of wrath, and master of bimbo annihilation whose presence was marked by the bang of fire from a double barrel shotgun. The hordes so decimated that the army had little trouble clearing them out. The man, the myth, the legend... the Nomad.