File #9

As you can see this is not Lord's narration but someone else's and this is how you'll get to see other people's adventures and how they affect the world and things around them.

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As the impending doom of the apocalypse loomed over us, my parents and I were forced to abandon our once-grand mansion in a hurried frenzy. The hallways that once echoed with laughter and joy now echoed with the unsettling silence of abandonment.

"Marie, grab what you can quickly!" my father urged, his voice strained with urgency.

I rushed from room to room, gathering a few precious belongings, memories encapsulated in hastily packed bags.

The weight of the situation pressed upon me, the realization that we were leaving behind the life we had known.

In the midst of the chaos, I called out for Lord, hoping against hope that he would appear and join us in our desperate escape.

But there was no sign of him, no familiar voice laced with sarcasm to ease our worries.

"Where is Lord?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

My parents exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring my own unease. My father cleared his throat, his words tinged with regret. "We couldn't find him, Marie. He must have gone his own way."

My heart sank, a mix of disappointment and worry settling within me. Lord had always been the one to find humour in the bleakest of circumstances. Without him by my side, the journey ahead felt even more treacherous.

As we hastily made our way through the mansion's grand entrance, the weight of our decision bore down on us.

The once pristine gardens were now overgrown, the symphony of chirping birds replaced by an eerie silence. I glanced back at the mansion, its ornate architecture fading into the distance, a symbol of a life left behind.

"We'll find a way, Marie," my mother assured me, her voice carrying a hint of determination.

"I know, Mom," I replied, my voice laced with uncertainty. "But I can't help but worry about Lord. He's always been there for us, and now..."

My mother placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, her touch grounding me amidst the turmoil. "We can't control what happens to others, Marie. We can only focus on our own survival. Lord is strong and resourceful. He'll find his way."

I nodded, drawing strength from my mother's words. But deep down, the worry for Lord lingered like a shadow. As we ventured into the unknown, I held onto the hope that our paths would cross again, that Lord's sharp wit and sarcastic banter would once more bring lightness to our terrible reality.

How I always hoped this was a dream but alas I woke up consistently to the same scenery, it seemed this was life now.

As my parents and I stood on the tarmac, our eyes fixed on the sleek private plane that would become our temporary refuge, a sense of relief washed over us. Finally, a respite from the horrors of the outside world. But just as hope began to blossom within our hearts, a chilling realization dawned on me.

"Wait... where's the pilot?" I asked, a hint of worry tainting my voice.

My father scanned the area, his gaze narrowing in concern. "He should have been here by now. Something's not right."

Before we could fully comprehend the danger lurking in the shadows, a guttural growl pierced the air, followed by the shuffling of footsteps. We turned towards the noise, our eyes widening with a mix of shock and horror.

The pilot, or what remained of him, emerged from the darkness. His body was contorted, his features distorted, and a frenzied hunger burned in his eyes. He was one of the infected parasites, an 'Idle' whose sanity had long abandoned him.

"Stay back!" my father shouted, his voice laced with a mix of fear and authority.

But the 'Idle' pilot paid no heed, lunging at us with an unnerving speed. Panic surged through my veins as I recalled Lord's words, his irreverent advice that now echoed in my mind.

"Aim for their windpipe and, if possible, the neck," I whispered to myself, mustering all the courage I could find.

As the 'Idle' pilot closed in, I seized the opportunity, channelling every ounce of strength and determination. With a swift motion, I extended my hand and delivered a forceful strike to his windpipe, hoping to incapacitate him.

The impact stunned the 'Idle' pilot momentarily, his grip weakening. I seized the chance to grab hold of a nearby object, a metal wrench left behind by the maintenance crew. With a surge of adrenaline, I swung the wrench, aiming for his neck, just as Lord had advised.

The blow landed with a sickening thud, and the 'Idle' pilot crumpled to the ground, a grotesque mixture of blood and ichor seeping from his wounds. Relief washed over me as I realized we had overcome this immediate threat.

"Choke on a Lego brick or something," I muttered under my breath, a bitter mix of sarcasm and gratitude flowing through my words.

My parents, their faces etched with a mixture of awe and concern, rushed to my side, their embrace a tangible reassurance of our survival. The plane stood before us, a symbol of escape and new beginnings.

But as we stepped on board, my mind drifted back to Lord, to his unconventional wisdom and unparalleled wit. I couldn't help but wonder if he had encountered similar challenges if he had faced his own battles with the infected parasites.

As the plane's engines roared to life, carrying us away from the chaos that had consumed our lives, I held onto the hope that our paths would converge once more.