Before the wringling critters could pass the gamer's lips, Donavan's wife was stabbed in the neck with a pair of fabric scissors. As the other grunt went to the bushes, he was sprayed in the face with hairspray. Colin watched as the leader's wife lay next to him shuddering and gushing blood and the big guy holding his eyes in pain before getting his throat stabbed with the fabric scissors as well.
The figure stopped and looked at him. He was a guy Colin's age, with short and wavy black hair and blue eyes. He wore a sash full of styling tools and scissors, a lavender sweater with a light purple scarf, and black lipstick as warpaint on his cheeks.
"Marin?" Colin asked.
"In ze flesh, mon frier." the french guy said. Colin had met Marin when he moved into the neighborhood around his college and they bumped into eachother at Walmart. The two were reasonably goid friends and it was nice to see one of those.
"Why are you out here?" Colin asked.
"I vas on a photo shoot when one of ze models came down with zis virus. She infected everyone but me." Marin explained.
Colin paused and replied with "I see.... hey, do you have..."
"Food? Jes." the french guy said as he pulled out a few small baggies of chips, "I got these from ze vending machine."
Colin cheered and tore the bags open, horking them down like a wild pig squeals and all.
"Why were you with them, anyway?" Marin asked.
Colin sat there and explained everything: the station, the Survivalists, the mission, even showed Marin the map.
"So zere is a ship out there?" the french friend asked.
Colin nodded.
"Well zhen, we do not have the time to lose." Marin replied.
And so the duo set off into the mountains, trudging through miles of thick brush and lonesome wilderness, before something interrupted.
"What's that?" Colin asked as he heard rustling in the bushes.
"Someone or something is coming our way." Marin said as he drew out his "fighting" scissors.
Then, out of the dark of the night, emerged....