I'm with my sister and a few other people. We're dressed in what can only be described as rejects from the Mad Max costume line.
As we drive through a field, we hear of a group of marauders running through the area. That's our cue to intercept the group and kill them.
We come upon a band of middle-aged and elderly suburbanites walking across a grassy meadow. There are the balding males with bermuda shorts, polos and sandals on. There are one or two grandmotherly figures in the group wearing pop beads and obscenely bright floral tops.
My sister, who is right next to me, has already pulled out her weapon. She's ready to roll.
I pull out an elongated knife (or maybe it's a short sword) and hop off the vehicle. We circle around the group that has now reacted like a herd of cattle. They're facing outward, wide eyed and panicked.
From the left, someone starts hacking into the group and I know it's go-time. Quickly, I dispatch two with a few deep cuts. They go down with very little noise and almost no blood issuing from the wounds.
As I circle around the back of the group, I see my sister bending down over an old woman who is on the ground near breathless after screaming, searching frantically for a way to get out of there. I'm strangely passive to her fear and nearly laugh as my sister asks her "do you want to go quickly?"
She repeats the question a few times before the woman finally nods. My sister steps on her chest and begins cutting in a way that would not bring quick death. The woman never screams. In fact, she lays there looking up at my sister patiently awaiting her last moment.
I come upon a middle-aged guy with his gut hanging out significantly over his shorts who continues to face me even as I circle him and says to me, "I never knew you were so good with those weapons." I slice into him twice very quickly. He drops to his knees as blood starts seeping into his mouth. As he falls over, he asks, "are you good with all of them?"
"Half," I reply. "I'm good with about half."
He nods and expires.