- You don't leave Bryan Kuznetsov behind in a zombie apocalypse. His friends were going to pay.

- Warnings: Zombies, excessive swearing, mentions of sexytime, bit of groping here and there, violence, blood, various body parts being detached from bodies... etc, etc.

- Disclaimer: I don't own this shit.

- A/N: I actually worry for my own safety with my return. I expect anger and a lot of comments saying, "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" This fic wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for Agent Tuesday. She's helped me plan this and get it kick-started. Anyway, enjoy this. I love zombies.

Chapter 1

A field full of pretty flowers. Naked people running back and forth. Women rubbing cheese on men. Men rubbing cheese on women. Men rubbing cheese on men. Men and women rubbing cheese on cows. Cows being rubbed with their own dairy products. Cows galloping across the field, chasing horses. Those damn horses. Who did they think they were, galloping all day, just because they could? The cows would show them. They would out-gallop those bloody horses.

You know when you wake yourself up from a bizarre dream, by shouting something happening in said dream? Well, that is how Bryan Kuznetsov woke up on the fateful day that he realised his friends were dicks.

"CHEESY BALLSACKS!"

Bryan sat up with a jolt, and placed his hand to his forehead. He really needed to stop drinking so much, and eating so late at night. Especially food covered in masses of cheese. Bryan loved cheese. Though, he wasn't sure whether his insane dream was due to the cheese, or just the chilli con carne Tyson's Grandfather had made, using some 'special' ingredients. Bryan dreaded to think what those 'special' ingredients were.

Getting up out of his bed rather slowly and wobbly, Bryan made his way across the dojo. He noticed that the others had already left the dojo. Where they had gone to, Bryan didn't know. Nor did he currently care. He could hear some groaning outside, so he assumed they were out in the garden, having Beybattles, or having sex or something.

Still holding his head, he walked across the hallway to the kitchen, and started rummaging for some paracetamol or ibuprofen. Anything to get rid of the raging headache he had. He also needed to get rid of the raging boner in his pants. He was always so horny the morning after he'd consumed a large amount of alcohol. He was just very glad that the other weren't around to see the tent in his boxers. No doubt they would laugh and poke fun at him, and it was really too early to be committing any murders.

Paracetamol found in a cupboard, Bryan swallowed them dry and rubbed his face, willing the pills to kick in soon. His bleary eyes fell on the door, and the groaning coming from behind it.

'They must be having one massive fucking orgy out there or something,' Bryan thought to himself. 'They didn't even invite me. Wankers.'

Bryan was in two minds. A half of him just wanted to retreat back to his bed, and silently jack himself off without any of the others knowing. The other half wanted to storm out there, rip off his boxers, and fuck every one of them in sight.

He made a decision to do the latter. What the Hell, if you can't beat them, join them. Bryan extended a hand and slowly opened the door a few inches. What he wasn't expecting, was a bloodied, half-chewed hand to shoot in through the door, and try and grab his own arm.

Bryan let out a very uncharacteristic, girly scream, and tried closing the door on the arm. The arm was still trying to make a grab for Bryan, though, and as Bryan began slamming the door repeatedly on the arm, he caught glimpse after glimpse of what was attached to the arm, on the other side of the door.

A motherfucking zombie.

After a few more slams, the door finally shut completely, severing the arm from the zombie's body. Bryan quickly locked the door, and stared in horror at the arm on the floor. Then, quicker than he could say the words "zombie apocalypse", he launched himself at the kitchen sink, and promptly spewed up everything he'd consumed the night before.

A few retches later, and Bryan sank to the floor. The arm was still in sight. He wasn't exactly sure what to do with it. He was sure of one thing however: his boner was gone. There is nothing erotic about a zombie, and that certainly killed his horny mood.

Bryan needed to stop looking at the arm, so he looked up at the fridge, hoping that that there was a large supply of alcohol in it. Before he even thought about looking in the fridge however, he noticed a note stuck to the fridge with a magnet. He immediately recognised Tala's neat, girly handwriting, and his name at the top of it.

He stood up slowly, and took the note from the fridge. It read:

Bryan
If you hadn't noticed already, there appears to be a zombie apocalypse happening. The others and I have already left, to try and escape this mad shit. We didn't want to leave you behind... but we also didn't want to wake you up. We know what you're like when you've just woken up. You're a big, ragey thing. And we didn't want to face that. Besides, what's a couple of zombies to the great Bryan Kuznetsov? We figured you'd be able to handle them, LOL. Oh, I don't know if the phone networks are still up, but if you're still alive somehow and happen to read this, try and give me a call. Otherwise, head towards the airport. People are flying out of here. Hope you're okay, dude, and I hope to see you soon. Just don't kill me when we meet back up.
Much love :D
Tala

Bryan was shaking in rage. He was going to fucking kill every last one of them. And he wasn't talking about the zombies. How could his so-called friends just leave him behind to be eaten by zombies?

He looked back down at the note. '... try and give me a call...' Oh, he was going to try and call Tala alright. And bitch that motherfucker out. He made his way back across the hall, trying desperately to ignore the sound of the zombie at the door, trying to get in to retrieve its arm. Or eat him. One or the other, and it was probably the latter.

Inside the dojo once more, Bryan grabbed his trousers off of the floor, and took his mobile phone out of the pocket, before pulling his trousers on. He looked at the screen, and saw with some relief that he had a signal. Tala's number was dialled instantly, and Bryan put the phone to his ear, waiting and willing for Tala to pick up quickly.

"Bry! You're alive!" was the first thing Tala's voice said to him.

"YOU FUCKING LEFT ME!" Bryan yelled, and immediately regretting doing so, as he heard a zombie or two scrabbling at the dojo door. They'd clearly heard him, and wanted him for breakfast.

"Dude, you read the note! I knew you'd be okay! I didn't want to wake you up and have an arseful of your rage!"

"WHAT HAPPENED TO NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP? NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN? NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU?"

"Did you just Rickroll me?"

"What? No. I was just repeating what you said to me years ago," Bryan said, as the dojo door rattled dangerously. It was not going to hold.

"Dude, I didn't mean that. I was just Rickrolling you. Christ, Bry, you actually took that shit I said seriously?"

"You're a grade A twat, you know that, Tala?"

"Yeah, well, yo-" Tala began to say on the other end of the line, before the phone went dead.

"Tala? Tal?" Bryan's panicked voice spoke into the phone. He looked at the screen, and saw that his signal was lost. Well, it was only a matter of time before the networks went down. He was officially on his own, now.

Bryan looked back at the dojo door, which was slowly being destroyed by three zombies behind it. He could see all of their bloodied faces, open mouths gaping at him, their soulless eyes staring at him. He could quite easily admit that he was shit scared, and wasn't exactly sure what to do.

Just as one of the zombies finally broke through the door, Bryan's natural instincts kicked in. He grabbed one of the katanas hung on the wall, pulled it from its sheath, and pointed it at the zombie heading straight towards him. The zombie didn't stop, and the blade went straight through its head, killing it once and for all.

Bryan pulled the katana from the zombie, which fell to the floor. He looked at the two others just making their way through the door, and didn't waste any time in doing the same to them as he had done to their partner in crime.

Once the three undead intruders were taken care of, Bryan realised that the dojo was not exactly safe. Tyson's Grandpa was never exactly big on security. He'd always seen himself as his own sort of security guard. Without him, this meant that the dojo was very vulnerable, and that made Bryan vulnerable, especially as he was on his own.

Bryan picked up his t-shirt from the floor, and pulled it on. It was slightly blood-splattered, but that didn't matter. He was sure it would become worse as he travelled to the airport. With the katana in hand, he left the dojo, determined to survive. After all, he had a bunch of so-called friends to murder for leaving him behind.

- A/N: So, yeah. There's chapter one :D Erm, will be changing my pen-name again soon, so expect that. Review?