Sci-fi and Heroic Fantasy discussion

Rex and Dev take the same path back to the museum. As before, they’re careful with their steps. The background quakes with sounds of heavy gunfire coming from the east; a few explosions blast out that ways, too.
The weather has changed since the two took this journey; the clouds have blackened giving a grey look to the surroundings, then like a wave—it came.
“Feel that?” Rex says, standing tall and gazing up into the sky.
Dev stares at his arms, he can feel and see the hairs lift slightly. “It’s static . . . Where’s it coming from?”
Rex, head still facing the sky, “We’re being watched.”
Dev spasms at the answer. “What?!”
“Let’s go. It’s not safe out here.”
Coming up on the dangling head fence, the anxiety prospers in Dev again.
“Let’s go around this time, Rex.”
The dried blood leading into the roll-up door gathers their eyes, as it did the first time through.
“No. That will put us on the main streets and further away. With all this shooting going on—it could be far more dangerous.”
Dev half nods, knowing he wasn’t going to budge the stubborn man.
In between the dismembered heads, cans clank against each other from a light breeze. Unlike the thin tin of carbonated drinks, food and veggie cans give off a hollow sound when they’re empty and hitting.
As their focus condenses, they can hear their own breaths in their head.
Walking by—a swirling wind goes around them, lightly whistling as it passes. The fence creaks and fabric blows somewhere nearby; it almost seems the sounds of the surroundings are a warning of some kind.
They keep moving, mindful of the three quarters opened room. What mimics a dropped slab of raw ribs hits the pavement in front of them.
Startled, they stop in their tracks shifting their attention away from the room.
A freshly decapitated head lies in front of them. The red splat underneath resembles wild paintbrush strokes. The face; almost unrecognizable, bloodied, bruised, deep slashes running down each cheek, and half crushed from the impact of falling three stories down. The hair is mangy with some strands liquid stuck together and pointing in every direction imaginable.
Dev bends, hurling to his side.
Rex gazes up to the third story window. It’s open. A silhouette of a person stands in its dark shade. Whoever it is doesn’t move. For all Rex knows it could be a mannequin staring at him. Regardless, that had to be where the head came from.
YIN YIN YIN, YEEEEEEAN! YEEEEEEAN!
The loud noise of a small engine, similar to a Weed Wacker but much fuller—stronger—deadlier, breaks the suspense.
The large, circular tip of a chainsaw makes its way out of the dark catacomb. White smoke follows, drifting up.
Rex puts a hand out, shielding Dev. He widens his other arm out with his blade.
Face stretched, “Who’s there?!” Rex voice tries to fight over the menacing sound.
A man, larger than Rex, comes out of the abyss lead by the saw, looking nothing short of a character from an 80’s horror flick. He wears a blood soaked apron over his thick, brown work overalls. His head is protected from the front by an imposing, heavy welding mask.
Devin, backing up in fear, stumbles over his own feet to his bottom.
Two infected hurdle the fence; one yields a rifle. The crazy immediately shoots the large man’s leg. The man in the mask barely makes a flinch, though his pants reveal the wound through liquid prowling out.
Rex steps back, letting the two wild men attack the chainsaw warrior.
The one with a rifle lifts his arms high, holding the gun by its barrel to swing with. As he tries, both his arms are removed off at the elbows, leaving only shredded stumps. The amount of blood loss weakens him to a fall.
The other crazy attacks straight with a pitchfork. Something hard shields off the blow—a breastplate of sorts. The saw unmercifully comes down on his skull, peeling out chunks of hair, skin, then bone before getting to the soft center of the brain, squirting it all out like a blender with no top.
Rex charges, figuring this could be his only opportunity. He stabs at the kidney, but his blade glides off after contact. The man apparently has protection there as well.
Rex stabs for the back, center area. Once again his blade is halted on contact. At this point, Rex is mystified.
Is there any spot not protected?
The large killer swings his saw in retaliation, making the engine roar with both attempts. Luckily for Rex they both come up short.
“Rex! Throw me something.” Dev shouts.
Rex launches the drill from his belt.
Out from under the rollup door comes a skinny teen with similar armor. He charges with a metal spear in hand. A little too fast as he slips on the bloody pavement, falling stomach first to the ground.
“Kill him!” yells Rex.

OK, let's take a dram of soma and start again, this time in the Reviewing folder.