Say hello to my side project, Broad Statement!

... Alright I think that's enough greetings for now.

-Broad Statement-

Prologue

Lessers.

Weak.

Monsters.

Bait.

Normals.

Common. The enormous mass of Infected that roamed around America. They were all the same, deteriorating, small claws, probably covered in their own feces and vomit, and absolutely no conscience.

Clearly, I didn't fit well in that category.

Yet, looking at myself in the cracked mirror, that's what I saw. I was branded as a Common by hostile Survivors and... well, I looked like one.

Well, sort of.

It has been almost a month since the first infection of the Green Flu virus, and already the country has gone to hell.

I only made it a week through this virus.

Technically, that could make me a Fallen Survivor.

But for one to be a Fallen Survivor they would have to have been a Survivor in the first place. Calling me a Survivor would have set the bar real low, spending that week hiding from these monsters.

I wasn't a Special Infected that I knew of, either. I couldn't leap great heights, shoot tongues out to choke victims, attract hordes with my screams or vomit (I've tried on two separate occasions, just to see what happens), nor could I destroy structures with monstrous fists. And I definitely wasn't a crying, hopeless girl sitting in a corner with footlong claws.

I had special... traits that made me different.

I was smart. No, the Hunters were smart, I was intelligent. I knew that guns meant death. I knew that I wasn't human. I was very well aware of what was happening. Honestly, aside from a slight temper, this infection barely scratched me mentally.

I wasn't falling apart. If I kept a hat, sunglasses, and a sweater on, I'd pass as human. It's worked plenty of times. I liked to help Survivors. You know, at a distance. They'd be down in an alley or something, and I would call out and toss down anything they seemed to need.

My name is Jonathan. I knew about that much of my past. And I was infected. A Common. Even if I didn't act like one.

...Now that I think about it, "Common" is a bit of a broad statement, isn't it?

Chapter 1

~Several days later~

If I weren't so... dead, I guess, I'd climb down and help the small group of four. The darker one, who was called "Louis" frequently by the other 3, looked seriously injured. His leg was bleeding severely, only slowed by the bandages wrapped tightly around it. Must've been a close fight they went through... That or they just came from the cargo ship filled with the Witches, or the 'Ship of Bitches,' as Kyle called it.

Kyle was another one like me. Physically fucked up with whatever the strain was known for, but otherwise pretty sane. He was a Smoker, and had a long tongue that could shoot out of his mouth. Where in his body it retracted, I had no idea. Unlike other Smokers, he didn't have any deformations or tumors, and could blend in with humans better than I could. My eyes, which were slightly yellow, were a dead giveaway close up that I was infected (Or the look of HEP-A positive), but he had cool green eyes. Not infected green, normal, human green.

Lucky bastard.

Of course, neither of us used our advantages to harm humans. We were perfectly fine with normal food.

"Looks like they got caught up in a shithole, eh?" Kyle said, watching the four gun down the Commons. He wore a dark blue hoodie over his usual plain white t-shirt, much to my surprise, and it somehow fit his lean figure. "Where the hell did you get that?" I questioned. The hoodie had no duct tape on it, so at least he didn't maim a Hunter for it.

"Interesting story," he started, but trailed off as he stopped to watch something the Survivors were doing. I turned to see what it was.

The one with the green beret - Bill, I think - held something in his hand that I've never seen before. A white tube with a battery and a small box attached to it. What the hell?

It suddenly began blinking, and I swear I've never seen more Commons flood to one place at once. Bill threw it in the direction they came from, and the four ran towards the safe room as the Infected near the device were blown to bits.

"Looks like we got smart ones," I commented, admiring the makeshift bomb, and Kyle snickered. "Yeah, it only took 'em about... what, four weeks?"

"Four weeks, two days, seven hours, and thirteen minutes," I replied. I always kept track of that. It was a nice way to keep my sanity when nothing was going on. "Well, maybe we should go and help them," Kyle said, dangling a first aid kit by his tongue off the edge of the building. I quickly grabbed his tongue, pulled it back up, and snatched the kit away. "Are you crazy?" I whispered, noticing the biker looking around through the barred window. "There's only so many of these things left, we can't just play around with them!"

"Jeez, whatever," he calmly said. I looked back to the safe room to find the girl peering out the window now, gun in hand.

Looking right at us.

"Oh, SHIT!" I tackled Kyle right as the bullet screamed by, and we quickly scrambled out of sight. I gave him a death glare while he brushed himself off. "... What?" he asked. I rolled my eyes and poked my head over the building. The girl was distracted with some other Commons, their heads coming off with each shot. She had great accuracy...

"Do ya think we should stop with all the 'helping the Survivors' shit?" Kyle asked, but I shook my head. "I think we NEED to get those Survivors to safety." Despite the hostility, I understood why. We looked exactly like the monsters they've been shooting for probably a while.

I just seriously hope we don't end up staring down that barrel trying to help.