In a world like this, only one thing matters: survival. I've been at it for years, hiding like a rat in the alleyways. It's either from Browncoats shuffling for brains, foot soldier zombie patrols or Zombot drones scanning the area for survivors to pick off. But ever since the second Garden War began, I'm not hiding anymore. Now, I'm running for my life in a war-torn city. The horrors are all around me. To my right, two Z-Mechs are shooting wildly until a Corn Cob missile and an RPG strikes one. The Z-Mech, a bit scratched and battle-damaged, turns and fires at a group of survivors and a Kernel Corn hiding behind rubble. To my left, zombies are swarming a crashed chopper with the words "Death from Above" on the tail. The pilot is a goner, with a panicked expression on his face. I stop running as two red cars, one with a machine gun on the roof and another with a flamethrower, race down the street, weapons going wild. I dash over to a barrier of debris and catch my breath. Suddenly, a massive roar cuts through the air. I look up… and the last thing I see is a monstrous Gargantuar slamming his pole down on me, finishing me off.