21:25, February 16, 2017. Los Santos, San Andreas Island, California, USA.

Michael had gone to the Vanilla Unicorn with Franklin, a guy's night out, though he'd left out the exact location when telling Amanda, for two obvious reasons.

Franklin had left some time before, and Michael was thinking of doing the same, after a private dance of course. That was also something Amanda didn't need to know about.

"You like what you see Mr. De Santa?" Sapphire stated.

"I'm not about that life anymore, a new man you could say."

There was commotion in the main area, most likely a drunk about to be tossed out.

"You've said that for four years Mr. De Santa, yet you keep coming here."

"I look, I admire, I touch, but I don't take home anymore."

The topless stripper gave a small laugh. "I'm sure I could change your mind, eventually."

"I'd like to see that."

Someone tumbled into the room, and Michael was about to yell at them, when they sunk their teeth into the woman's neck, blood squirting everywhere as she screamed.

Michael instinctively pushed both off of him and shot up, now realizing the commotion in the club had grown volumes.

The man, a filth ridden hobo by the looks of it, was still biting the struggling stripper.

Michael took out the Glock he always kept under his grey suit jacket, and fired three rounds into the hobo, not wanting to take any chances. But, to his horror-filled surprise, all that did was get the hobo to release the dying woman and turn to face Michael.

He took one look at the man's glazed eyes and blood-filled mouth, and put a quick round between the man's eyes.

Sapphire convulsed on the floor, her taking her final, blood-filled breaths, and Michael walked out of the private rooms, and into the main area.

It was chaos, as the patrons seemed to be being eaten by one another.

Rather than fight, Michael rushed outside, passing one of the bouncers, who was in the process of being torn apart, and hopped in his tailgater, which still bore the marks of when Jimmy had taken it.

As he tore through downtown, Lester called him.

"Lester what the fuck is going on here?"

He passed a group of LSPD officers firing wildly into a crowd.

"I can't say for certain, but if I had to put a finger on it, I'd say the zombie apocalypse." The man's voice came through in short breaths.

Michael wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't have a counter argument, it wasn't that crazy considering what he'd just seen.

"Alright, I'm going to get Amanda and the kids, and head for the hills. I'd suggest you do the same."

"I wouldn't if I were you, the military, LSSD and CHP have every road out of LS blocked off, my guess is they'll shoot anyone who gets close. If I were you, I'd lock the gates and stay put, at least then you'd have a defensible position."

"Fuck, ok, I'll see if I can come get you first." Michael hung up the phone. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! This can't be happening."

As his car made a right, a grey SUV slammed into it, sending him spiraling into a light pole.

"Come the fuck on!"

Michael got out of the car, aimed down the ARs CCO, and fired a round into an approaching zombies head, dropping it like a felled tree.

"Who'd have fucking thought this shit would happen to me?"

He walked around to the back of his car and opened the trunk, which he was glad hadn't received any real damage, grabbing an AR15 he always kept there, since trouble always seemed to find him, before heading off on foot.

'Lester'll have to wait, my family comes first right now.'

Vinewood wasn't much better than downtown, while the LSPD had been bolstered by soldiers from Zancudo who wore gasmasks, they didn't seem to be faring any better.

Soldiers and cops fired wildly at anything that moved, while Michael took cover behind whatever object he could find, and moved when the air wasn't full of lead, or a zombie got too close. It was this slow process that forced him into the allies.

He put two rounds in the back of an officers head, not willing to take the risk if he was infected, and felt a presence behind him. He spun around, but his rifle was batted down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mikey. It's me, Packie."

"Shit, I thought you moved back east after the big one."

"Thought I'd stay here awhile, take in the sun. Apparently, I took too long." The Irishman joked. "Think we'll last a lot longer if we head to the roof, there's a ladder right there."

"Not a chance, I gotta get home to my family."

Packie brought his AK up and fired at something behind Michael, who in turn brought his own rifle up to do the same.

"Fine, but first sign of this clearing up, and we make for my home. Got lots of food and ammo there, plus it's walled."

Michael stayed on the ground as his former crewmember started to climb, shooting two more in the head, before turning to climb as more of the things poured into the alley.

"Fuckin-a, this shit's unreal." Packie stated as Michael reached the top. "Fuck, man. I mean, this shit's only supposed to happen in shitty movies."

Michael agreed with him, but also found the statement ironic considering what both had done for their livings.

They watched the nightmare unfold from the rooftop. Mobs of undead rushed through the streets, and occasionally into buildings, tearing into anyone they caught up with, while some people desperately tried to fight them off with firearms or whatever object was close by. Some were successful, most were not.

AN: This may borrow characters from zombie games, most notably State of Decay. You'd also be surprised at how many times I've re-written this.