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Fan-fic Fan fiction Fan-Fiction Story HERC

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images.jpgPlease do note that this fan-fiction involves a LOT of swearing, and this will be my first warning, and getting into 'detail' with gore is also excessively involved.


Recommended Age group: 13+


This takes place in North Carolina, the HQ of where HERC operates at. This also is a few days before HERC had to withdraw from Union City.


 Other than that, Enjoy!






 The moaning was coming from everywhere.


 HERC's final stand, never heard of, was here before they withdrew from that accursed place. Right here, in this base. The base that no survivor heard of. The base where thousands of HERC troops would either desert, die, or become infected. Right here in North Carolina.


 "Frag out!" Dakota, one of the many HERC soldiers, tossed a frag over some sandbags.  The sound of the grenade ricocheting off the hard, metal ground could be heard, perhaps even a mile away if the moaning wasn't present. WHA-BOOSH! The explosive went off, severing human and animal limbs in the process. The agonized moaning of the nearly-dying zombies and the whimpers of infected hounds, was an attempt at a scream. But nowhere near there.


 It may seem like this was making a huge difference within the zombies numbers, but no. After one zombie, two takes it's place. And, a group of zombies twice the size of the last one barged through the thick metal gates. Then, a HERC soldier, clearly hyper-ventilating due to his breathing and the fog on his mask, smashed into the sandbags beside Dakota.


 "How much ammo you got left?" The Soldier asked. His voice pierced through the moaning, gunfire, and orders being yelled. "Ah, fu** me, I only got two clips left." Dakota handed the soldier his other clip, and the other Soldier nodded in thankfulness.


 WHA-BOOOOOM! A infected dog stepped on a land-mine, causing a chain reaction with the other mines.




 WHA-BOOOOOM! The last landmine detonated due to the chain of explosions. The HERC were determined to rid their base of the affected ones.


 "We've got shields comin' in!" A HERC soldier yelled while a row of HERC troops carrying G-17 Pistols and Riot Shields marched past Dakota and the friend of Dakota's, or, what he thought was his friend. Dakota looked in amazement as he saw about 12 HERC troops only armed with pistols and shields, trample over a horde of zombies, alighting the crowd with their pistols.


 But then, a growl that seemed like it would go through a Military Vest, came from the gate. "SH**! SH**! SH**! BRUISERS!" Swearing could be heard behind and in front of Dakota. "Bruiser?" The other soldier asked, clearly to Dakota, this meant that he was new. "Really strong zombies. We think most of them used to be bikers."


 That, was an under-statement. Gun-fire could be heard at the front gate, and Dakota knew that whatever was behind there, it was pushing these soldiers back. Screams, not of pain, but of determination was heard coming from the soldiers wielding the riot shields. "What in god's name...?" Dakota wiped the fog off his mask as the other soldier said this.


 "FALL BACK! FALL BA-" A soldier who was one of the few wielding a riot shield, barely got out his sentence before he was tackled and was devoured by a group of Bruisers.


 "We need anti-tank weapons!"


 WHOOSH! A line of fire barely missed Dakota's head.


 BOOOM! A rocket that landed was true, and it tore every single zombie, bruiser or not, into pieces. "OH MY GOD!" The other soldier screamed right after a hand missing it's thumb landed right beside him. Dakota snickered with delight. He thought they were winning. And he thought wrong.


 "Oh god, Riot Zombies!" Dakota took a peek over the sandbags only to see a line of black, with the occasional POLICE or SWAT placed diagonally among every single shield. Behind them, regular zombies moaned and shuffled toward the base, the only source of light in this bloody night.


 People started to shout 'Frag out' and 'Fire in the hole' as they tossed frags under the shield-wielding zombies, and unfortunately, not a single grenade was able to get under the shields and then they ricocheted back to their original owners. And with a bitter-sweet taste, the sandbags managed to deflect them once more, saving their lives, as well as others.


 This was where there was no going back for the zombies, if their desire for flesh let them have a choice at all. They were closing in on the soldiers, and nothing could save them. No Anti-tank weapons, no grenades, nothing whatsoever. They're all dead, even though they still think they can win.


 Dakota looked in front of him. The affected former policemen were only a few yards away from them. "MOVE BACK TO THE BASE!"




 Tell me how you like it! Remember, I'll post other parts soon, and usually, perspectives never change in this story. That could be considered a spoiler. :P



Edited by xXTehCrusaderXx, 15 July 2013 - 08:22 AM.

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Good and simple prologue, +1 looking forward to it :)

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Good and simple prologue, +1 looking forward to it :)

Okay, thanks for the feedback! I'll release part 2 either the day after tomorrow or tomorrow night.

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Two words: More, please. 

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Two words: More, please. 

 I'm guessing you thought it was good? :P


 Anyways, like I said before, it'll either be the day after tomorrow,(certainly not a reference), or tomorrow night/evening.

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Edit: Accidental re-post, read the next post for the next part.

Edited by xXTehCrusaderXx, 09 June 2013 - 04:13 AM.

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Part One: Busting it down. Yet again, this has some swearing in it, but luckily, is censored.


Recommended Age: 13+



 Yet, they still fight. What's keeping them going? Any regular person would have given up, and simply be devoured by the infected. But these soldiers have something driving them? What is it?




 They were barely a few yards away from Dakota and the other soldier until the order came. "FALL BACK! I REPEAT, GET YOUR DAMN ASSES OVER HERE!" As rude as it may seem, Dakota was relieved. The moaning that was getting closer and closer was getting irritating.


 A scream of yet again, not pain, but the will to survive was coming from beside Dakota. The other soldier primed his grenade, and said to Dakota:


 "These bi***es won't know what hit 'em!" And so, a sacrifice came. Dakota didn't know why he did it. He thought they could win. But no, they are NOT going to win. They have a lost cause, because, in reality, what is behind these shield-wielding devils? You'll find out soon enough.


 The other soldier let out a roar of pride, and leaped over the sandbags and detonated it. Dakota was a field medic, he has seen worse, but he has never, once in his career, seen such a sacrifice like that. He has seen people sacrifice their limbs to live. But this soldier sacrificed his life for Dakota's and others. Just for a larger chance of survival.




 And so, the grenade detonated, tearing the other soldier into pieces. But his sacrifice was not in vain, fortunately. The grenade obliterated the zombies legs, but they, still, like the HERC, had a determination to live. To survive.


 Those affected former policemen crawled toward their prey. But yet, on the contrary, the prey was indeed, the predator. Dakota leaped over the sandbags, and pulled out his combat knife.


 He yanked the helmet off of every infected one, and then jabbed his knife into their eye, puncturing their brain.


 And again.


 And again.


 So he repeated the process until every single former policemen was dead. And made sure they would stay dead.


 He looked behind him as he took the life of another former policemen, and what was it that came out of his mouth, even though it was unseen because of his HERC issued mask?


 Adrenaline was pushing him to say it. And saying it, was a 'permission granted' to get into deadly close range combat with more fallen foes.


 He couldn't stop it.


 "YOU MOTHERF***ER!" Permission granted.


 He sprinted toward these former people. Then he noticed they weren't just civilians.


 They were former comrades.


 This didn't stop him, as he slit the throat of one former HERC soldier, and then, narrowly dodging the hand of another infected, drop kicked that same aggressor.


 As he drop kicked this fallen comrade, he barely missed a infected attempt at piling on him.


 He also saw, humorously, 3 other infected follow the other, and chuckled.




 He looked at his ammunition pouch at his side, only to see that he had two grenades left. And he, thanks to quick thinking, knew he couldn't dog-pile in there and try to stab every single one of them.


 Adrenaline could be a life-saver. And to some... It can lead to the most severe of all injuries death. Luckily, due to adrenaline, his speed outmatched all of his fallen comrades, and yet this was due to adrenaline. Adrenaline...Almost killed him at the same time...


 Snap! He pulled the pin off of his grenade and tossed it into the pile. A affected HERC soldier, still in the pile, looked up at Dakota, as if the zombie knew what Dakota has thrown at under him.


 The bodies suppressed the explosion, but it didn't suppress the ensuing falling limbs that came soon after.






 Limbs were landing everywhere in the HERC's base, and cheering of HERC soldiers swarming out of the base was soon to be heard.


 Oh no, they thought they won. But, they still didn't. Even though wave after wave of zombies are being defeated, they won't know what's to come next.


 Trust me, they have no idea...




 Thanks for reading!


EDIT: Fixed a bit of spelling issues and grammar.

Edited by xXTehCrusaderXx, 09 June 2013 - 04:13 AM.

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 Please do remember this fan-fiction does involve serious swearing, so please, do be mature about it, and it is recommended that you are the age of thirteen or older. And unfortunately or fortunately for you guys, however you would like to put it, the swearing will not be censored anymore.



 -Underground Gunshot-



 The door shut tightly behind the group of about 20 HERC Troops.


 "Why the hell did he have to do that..." Dakota started to think depressing thoughts after the sacrifice that came from that barely known soldier. He thought they were safe.


 They were wrong.


 The squeaking of the combat boots and the banging of the recently barricaded doors and windows started to irritate Dakota. He decided to go to the base's small cafeteria listen to the radio that could be heard playing even though the sounds of war was open to all ears. He walked down the hall, occasionally bumping into HERC soldiers that were on their own way. The path to death was right through those doors. Any sane person would have worried about that death was eventually going to get to them, but what made them ignore this?




 As he sat down beside 3 other unknown HERC troops, wearing their armor, mask and all, the song turned to "Sweet Home Alabama".


 He sat there, and removed his helmet, revealing a ski-mask under the gas-mask he wore. He then tucked his forest green sleeves. He was saddened, yet relieved, that he was some of the few that got out alive.


 "Sweet Home Alab-" The radio's batteries died, and then other HERC soldiers cursed and went on their way. Dakota sat there.


 Everything was starting to go black.


 And blacker...


 And then finally, everything, was purely black.



 "MOVE! MOVE! GET UP AND MOVE IT, DAMMIT!" The order was coming from a HERC Commander pushing Dakota in order to wake him up. Dakota strapped up his helmet and immediately kicked the chair from underneath him. As tired as he was after the previous battle, he wasn't ready to get devoured, turned into one of them, and then attempting to kill his comrades.


 It was kill or you die, or die and you kill.


 He immediately grabbed a SV-SMG on the table and stood up and sprinted down the hall to the left.


 Screams of help and moans of agony came from that path.


 He turned and headed the other way, as 3 affected civilians were charging toward him.


 "Not today, bitch." He immediately turned around kicked one zombie to the floor, shattering it's skull as it fell on the hard concrete floor, and then brought his SV-SMG up and let hell rain on the former living.


 He then turned around once again and resumed running down the other hall. He then saw to signs, each had an arrow pointing to a corridor either to the left, or to the right.


The one on the right was "Transit System", while as the one on the left was "Testing Facility".


 He chose the one on the right.




 -PART 2 1/2-




 The squeaking of Dakota's standard HERC issued combat boots was constantly going into his ears. Oddly, they were clean, except for a few specks of dust here and there.


 As he neared the end of this corridor, he saw a HERC soldier with a riot shield and a G-17 pistol walk out of the "Transit System" room. "Good luck."


 The other soldier nodded in thanks. "You...Too..." His voice cracked as he stopped and held out his pistol, and got into a defensive stance.


 Dakota and the other soldier were trained about this type of situation, where many enemies would come charging down the halls.


 Dakota stopped walking, and then looked at the soldier.


 He was still in the stance. This soldier, was on a suicide mission, literally, especially due to this type of situation. During the training procedures one "lucky" soldier would be picked to go out with riot shield and all to give the other soldiers more time to escape. This was a private transit system for government officials and HERC passage allowed only, and nothing was supposed to go wrong here. Hopefully.




 Dakota continued to walk, until the growls and screams grew louder and louder. He then moved into a jogging pace. It got louder. It wasn't until he was in a full fledged sprint until gunshots were heard.


 Before he knew it, he saw soldiers lining up to get on a tram.


 A HERC soldier directed him to a tram, where there was at least 7 people in front of him, and their trams could only fit 5 at a time.


 "Damn it, we're gonna have some serious problems if we don't get these two other people in that tram!" Dakota looked behind him, and saw a, what looked like, a HERC Scientist arguing with a HERC Soldier over the two extra people in Dakota's line, or more specifically, Dakota and another HERC soldier in front of him. They both, were hearing in on the argument. The growls were getting louder and louder at this time.


 "Why!? There are innocent- well, no, I'm sure they've killed before, but there are soldiers in that line! You hear me! YOUR soldiers!" A HERC Scientist in his Bio suit was probably near the point of punching the Officer and getting a court martial, or just simply shot on the site.


 "That's right. They're my soldiers, Dr. Best, MY soldiers. I should send you to Unio- " He didn't even get to finish his sentence until a bruiser tackled the officer and began to turn him into "them".


 "Screw it, everybody on the tram!" Dr. Best, or what he was called by the currently, or nearly deceased, officer, shouted the order to get on the tram.


 Dr. Best, Dakota, and 8 other soldiers and scientists alike, including the soldier who directed Dakota to wait in line, all attempted to crowd into the tram, with some of the soldiers firing off shots to ward off the hungry crowd of infected. Dakota was one of them. The scientists all crowded into one corner of the tram, with 4 of them at most, and yelling over the gunfire asking what they should do.


 "I'm serious! I'm going to quit this damned job!" Dr. Best was occasionally shouting that or something similar to those words.


 "Well, I'm goin-" Turns out, one of the soldiers was a lieutenant, and decided to take charge.


 "NO! None of you are doing that! You're following my orders, all of you!" He indeed, did take charge. He had something driving him, and driving everybody.


 The will to live; otherwise known as determination.


 Dakota occasionally fired shots to make the numbers of the infected dwindle very slowly. These shots were true, and each one landed square on the head of the fortunate infected he decided to target.


 The tram was going at a speed of 20 MPH, or what Dakota could tell of it, as the zombies were increasingly getting farther and farther away.


 At the head of the tram was the lieutenant, with Dr. Best usually chatting with him about something.


 Something was driving him, much like he is driving the tram.


 You may know it.


 It is determination, the will to survive, the will to not die.

Edited by xXTehCrusaderXx, 15 July 2013 - 04:48 AM.

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Eh, I'm bored tonight, so I might as well should post the next part.

 I'm also going to give a "current stats" chart at the bottom of the story, inspired by HerpDerpHurrDerr's fan-fiction. The only difference is due to the military technology, the stats you will see will be nearly exact. You should check it out, it's quite the eye please-er. Remember this has un-censored swearing, and it is suggested that you are of the age of 13 and/or older.




-PART 3-




 The tram stopped suddenly. "Well folks, time to get off." The Lieutenant shouted to the Scientists and Soldiers alike. "Well, I think it's 'bout time I tell y'all my name." He obviously had a extremely southern accent. Dakota grew up within the southern states, so this wasn't a big deal to him. The Lieutenant wore a gas-mask, much like Dakota, but he wore a symbol of respect. A Red Beret with a skull-and-crossbones patch on the right side.


 The symbol of respect was easily seen by the living, but by the dead? The dead has no respect for the living, and vice-versa in these hard times.


 They were in a base, Dakota knew this because the trams only leads to HERC Bases and Government Buildings.


 As the Lieutenant stepped aside as the Soldiers lined up in a line with the Scientists in a rag-tag group behind him, he finally announced his name.


 "My name," He wiped the fog off his gas-mask that occasionally appeared every few dozen seconds. "is Lieutenant Daniels." "Well, you all know you're going to end up dead, soldiers, so we might as well fight our asses out of here alive, and then get killed by some other shit-" "But-" Dr. Best barely got out a word before Lieutenant Daniels walked up to him and gave him a glare through his gas-mask. A glare that can pierce any HERC Vest, Bio Suit, or armor around. That glare silenced the Scientists.


 "Now, the tram's went offline. Thank god we ended up by some base. But hell if I know, it looks abandoned, troops," He occasionally walked back and fourth by the column of soldiers, Dakota being at the end with his HERC SV-SMG at his side in a respectful manner. Dakota knew this lieutenant was no drill sergeant, but he was battle hardened.


 Occasional whispers were coming from the scientists behind the column of troops.


 "we're supposed to get a heli' inbound soon too. So let's get to the LZ, and all of you scientists," They all looked up at the menacing Lieutenant that was walking toward them, shoving a soldier aside.


 "keep quiet." Some of the scientists nodded, while some let out a faint "Yes." or "Okay.".


 "Let's move."


  The column of soldiers slowly disbanded into a rag-tag group much like the scientists.


 Dakota's stomach tightened with nervousness. As he bore a back-pack full of about 3 MRE'S, 4 SV-SMG clips around the bottom of the pack, a M26 Grenade at his side, 2 clips for his standard issue HERC G-17 pistol which lays in his holster at his thigh, a standard issue HERC combat knife, and a bottle of water inside of it, a zombie shuffled it's way around the corner where it faced the group of soldiers and scientists.


 The LT(Lieutenant) gave the order "Silent", as the scientists turned away in horror, the LT pulled out his combat knife and slowly crept toward the zombie as if it were a animal it didn't want to startle.


 In reality, this bull was startled enough.


 It let out a horrific screech that pierced the air, and sprinted toward the LT. The LT stabbed the affected one. "Ugly down. We've probably go more incoming, get back docs!" LT Daniels sheathed his knife and pulled a HERC M4A1 out and crouched down, prepared for anything to come around the corner.


 A, what looked like, a man came around with a Pipe Wrench. And charged the large group of soldiers and scientists, but this time, with the scientists farther behind the HERC soldiers.


 Dakota had no choice but to shoot him. No choice.


 He let one shot rang out, and it pierced the mans skin,skull and eyeball alike, making it seem as if the skin,skull and eye wasn't even there. The bullet rattled around the mans brain, killing him instantly. Painless.


 The Lieutenant shot a glare at Dakota, scolding him for shooting with out a suppressor. Dakota thought to himself:


 "Why in the hell did I do that..."


 He walked up to the man, and as he checked the man for any bites, he saw what he was looking for in order to not get a court martial for technically killing a "civilian.".


 In the HERC terms, this man was no civilian, he was an infected, affected, or in the HERC call-sign terms, an ugly, although not fully transformed.


 There was a deep bite in the man's shoulder. "He's infected."


 The Lieutenant stood behind Dakota, and looked down on the corpse. "Yep. You got lucky, boy."


 Dakota didn't feel sympathy or aggression. He really thought he did the man a favor, saving him from becoming "them". Dakota barely managed to grab the Pipe Wrench, and a growl came from the corner where the man came from. "Shit!" Soldiers swore in nervousness while the scientists stayed behind, much in the terms you could call, in a way, "cowardism".


 A obese affected one walked around the corner, and 8 HERC affected followed, seeming this was a HERC base.


 Shouts of warnings for Dakota was plentiful during that time. Dakota nearly dropped the wrench pipe, pried from the man's dead hands, due to the wetness, either due to the sweating of the man, or the blood of the man. Either way, Dakota was ready.


 Behind these infected came another beast, not man. Rather, a dog. It let out a growl before it pounced Dakota.


 "Get. Off. Of. ME!" Dakota screamed as he bashed the infected dog's head in, and bashed it multiple times over and over, even though it was unneeded. Bits of the hound's former head was strewn everywhere, even on Dakota's once formerly clean boots.


 Bullets rained over Dakota's head, each one never hitting him. Friendly fire is a straight up punishment, in Daniel's terms, "Killin' a friend, will getcha ugly or killed." Friendly fire isn't even a court martial, during these tough times, the only punishment for friendly fire during these tough times from the HERC is either these two options, either from a firing squad, or simply thrown out into the "wild" and abandoned. None of these soldiers wanted that punishment.


 Dakota got down into a prone position, and once again,had to "rain hell" with his trusty HERC SV-SMG. One by one the zombies fell. And then another group came, with a bit more "firepower".


 A entire "platoon", otherwise 18 HERC zombies, 3 armed with shields, entered. Each one moaning and shuffling alike, with their gas-mask hanging onto their face muffling their moaning.


 This could actually, as dim as it seems, could be an extreme problem.




Well, like I said, thanks for reading, and feedback is always appreciated. Also, the guns are on real-life stats, not Dead Zone stats, so saying this, a Tauron 9MM could possibly kill in one shot, if aimed at a unarmored foe, as it takes many shots on the Dead Zone. Also, HERC issued weapons are in constant supply here in North Carolina, so you'd see a HERC M4A1, where in the Dead Zone, you'd never find one.





White Male, Dark Brown Hair, Hazel Eyes, average build for someone in the military, 5'9, extremely skinny, 105 lbs, very fast, medic/leader. I will also reveal a spoiler somewhere in the stats, revealing who Dakota Mires actually is.




 Addons/Mods:HERC issued(More damage, accuracy, and clip size)

 Skill(On a scale of 1-10): 7.9

 HERC-Issued G-17 Pistol

 Addons/Mods:HERC issued(More Dmg, Acc, and Clip Size, you get the idea)

 Skill:(Scale of 1-10) 7.6

 Military Issued Combat Knife

 Addons/Mods: Military (Better damage)

 Skill: 7.8

 Trusty Pipe Wrench

 Addons/Mods: Trusty,( More damage and more accurate)

 Skill: 9.0


 Skill: 6.9



 Middle-aged 32 year old Mixed(Spanish and White) Man, graying, but black hair, brown eyes, strong build, 206 lbs, Fighter/Leader class HIS(Moe's) NAME IS MY NAME, ACTUAL TRUE STATS ABOUT ME(lbs, build, hair color, eye color, etc.)



 HERC Issued M4A1

 Addons/Mods: HERC Issued(Dmg.,Clip Size, and Acc.)

 Skill: 8.8

 Officer's Combat Knife

 Addons/Mods:Military officer's knife, (Dmg, Acc.)

 Skill 9.0


 Black Male, average build and weight, black hair, brown eyes, 179 lbs, Very intelligent,


 Nope. Notta. Single. One.


 Well, hope you enjoyed reading this! Have a good day/night guys! Yet again, Feedback is indeed appreciated!

Edited by xXTehCrusaderXx, 15 July 2013 - 11:05 PM.

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Also tagged with one or more of these keywords: Fan-fic, Fan fiction, Fan-Fiction, Story, HERC