Stuck in the Virtual Apocalypse (Cryaotic X Reader)

Just Stay Sober

      A/N: I know that they would need a lot more to get drunk, okay?

        “Look at him man! He ain’t got shit!” The masked man’s voice slurred as he pointed at the zombie come straight for Pewdie. Judging by the outfit, not to mention the utility belt and the wrench in its hand, it appeared that this zombie was once a mechanic of some sort. Pewds and Ken exchanged a worried glance and Pewds went over to the zombie. He swung his Katana in attempt to slice its head off, but failed miserably due to the alcohol coursing through his veins. That is because, if you didn’t already know, alcohol doesn’t exactly boost your performance. Instead of a nice slice to the neck, the swede ended up slicing through the zombie’s arm, the blade digging into its torso. That would have hurt like hell if its nerves weren’t already dead. Cry cackled at the scene before him, not even realizing the fact that his friend could be in grave danger. Ken was already jumping into the fight with his old knife in one hand, and a butcher knife in the other. He started randomly chopping the knife into the zombie, but Pewdie snatched one of away from the bearded man before the zombie could grab either one of them with its only arm.
        “Back off! I speak Chopnese!” The swedish man shouted, stabbing the knife into the zombies head. (Hey; At least he got that part right!) “Chop, Chop, Chop, Chop!” The body immediately fell to the floor, and a clinging sound was made when the wrench made impact with the pavement.
        CTK was a bit dazed from having his weapon removed from his hand, but managed to move on to the next zombie. He lifted up the remaining knife and stabbed it into the zombie’s chest, right were his heart should be. However, this had little effect on the flesh eater, as it only cause it to flinch and groan hungrily. Cry was still standing there laughing his ass off as his friends dealt with the small group of zombies. For some reason, he felt it wasn’t necessary that he helped in the fight, as if nothing could go wrong. He watched their many failed attempts of fatal strikes, and the occasional good ones. Maybe if they’d been sober, then maybe it wouldn’t have taken them so long to kill them. There were only about 7 of them, but they were so drunk that it took the amount of time it should take to kill a swarm of 20. When Pewds managed to shut down the brain of the last zombie, he turned on his heels to face Cry, his ocean blue eyes so tainted with anger that, if looks could kill, Cry would have dropped dead right there. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT CRY?!” He hollered. The only response he got from the masked man was a spout of giggles. Although Cry’s laugh was extremely contagious, Pewdie was sober enough to focus on the anger that coursed through his veins like venom. Ken however had cracked and was laughing along with Cry. Pewds gave Ken a look of disappointment.
        “Hey. It’s our fault he’s drunk as hell!” Ken replied, his words slightly slurred.
        “That it is Friends!” Cry whispered. It was definitely the alcohol talking.
        “Shut up Cry!” Pewds retorted.
        “Don’t yell at him!” Ken snapped, making the swede jump.
        “Fine Ken! I’ll yell at you then!” He countered, his Swedish accent laced with venom.
        “Oh yeah?”
        “Yeah! You wanna go bro?!” Of course Cry giggled and cheered at that thought.
        Ken glanced over at his masked friend who was laughing while chanting “Fight, fight, fight!”
        “Yeah, right here; right now!” He growled.
        “(Y/N)!” A faint, yet familiar voice screamed. Was that a British accent?
        Cry immediately stopped chanting looked at his too best friends, who would be fighting right now if it wasn't for that sudden outburst. And just like that, they seemed to have never touched that whiskey bottle.  “(Y/N)!” The three of them shouted in unison.
        “Where did that voice come from?” Pewds asked frantically.
        Ken raised his finger instantaneously and pointed in the direction of the scream.
        “Okay! Let’s go!” Cry responded hurriedly. He was the one panicking the most.  

        That moment in time tortured you like a never trance. You knew right then and there, that your life was going to take a turn for the worst. You could vividly imagine what it would feel like. First you would feel the sharp pain of its teeth piercing your skin and sinking further down into my flesh, ripping the cells apart.The zombies mouth would continuously chomp into your bite wound until it got a whole chuck of my flesh into its mouth. You would hear the vile sound of it devouring my flesh, much like when your younger sibling chews with there mouth open, only blood wouldn't be spurting everywhere. The pain would be indescribably agonizing as it tore into my shoulder, ripping out your own flesh and blood and gobbling it up like a chicken leg. But the whole event never got that far because as you were being yanked backwards, everything went into slow motion. You watched as Minx raised her whip, and flicked it forward. Each blade seemed to sparkle in the moonlight as they flew through the air towards you. At first it looked like Minx had tossed it wrong and that it would gash at you and not the zombie. But the zombie started forcing you downward by tugging on your (H/C) hair, and the blades came in contact with the zombies skull, piercing through the skull and shutting it down before the fowl creature could infect your. It was almost as if Minx had know that the zombie would pull you down, as if she knew exactly how it would play out because she had timed it perfectly. Heck; she even aimed it perfectly. You weren't one to complain though; she just saved your sorry ass. You immediately fell to the ground, along with the zombie corpse, and started bawling. How could you have been so stupid? You let your guard down for a second and everything went to shit. What if you had gotten bit? The others would be devastated, and Cry would probably go into denial, saying things like "It's okay." and "Nothing is going to happen to you." 
        "I'm so sorry (Y/N)." Your Italian friend cried as she sat down beside you. "I know that was a very terrifying thing for you to encounter, but we really need to get out of here." She motioned over to Minx, who was slashing up zombies with her whip. You nodded, wiping your own tears and Marzia helped you onto your feet. Paranoid that something like that might happen again, you pulled out your axe and clung to it. Marzia took your free hand into her own and ran over to Minx. She whispered something inaudible to her and Minx yanked the whip back to her side. Then the three of you started running, headed off into some random direction, hoping to lose the horde in the process.