[For a split second he does nothing, just grips the rifle tightly, but then there's a moment of clarity and he stands again, steadying himself against the rollcage and taking aim.]
You're shit with a rifle, Rogers, everyone knows that.
[And with that, he's firing, and one of the zombies goes down, a bullet neatly through the center of its forehead.
With... some kind of focus back, he fires again and again, though the gun isn't built for too many repeated shots. But every shot he fires finds its target: a zombie's head.
Maybe if he can make the screaming stop, the screaming in his own head will quiet, too.]
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You're shit with a rifle, Rogers, everyone knows that.
[And with that, he's firing, and one of the zombies goes down, a bullet neatly through the center of its forehead.
With... some kind of focus back, he fires again and again, though the gun isn't built for too many repeated shots. But every shot he fires finds its target: a zombie's head.
Maybe if he can make the screaming stop, the screaming in his own head will quiet, too.]