Hey man, look at me rocking out!

Danny had just entered the local gun store of Raccoon City, once a very quiet and peaceful town, now a broken city with monsters everywhere. Danny was 17, a restless teen who pretty much did what he wanted, when he wanted. He was tall, maybe 6'2, and had a very good build. He had dark brown eyes and messy medium lengthy brown hair, it barely pasted his shoulders. He sported a black System Of A Down Toxicity* shirt and black jeans.

Danny had taken the outbreak very well; or at least as best as possible. He hadn't really cared for school or teachers or fags that annoyed him; so I guess he was happy with them dying. Danny, being one of the only people to do P.E., had no problem running from the zombies. "Or whatever you want to call them; all I know is they got a sickness, and cowbell ain't gonna fix it this time."

Danny hopped over the counter to the gun rack behind it. As it turns out, almost all the guns in the store were either gone, or locked where he couldn't get them. He stared at the empty shelf for about 5 minutes. "Lame." So, Danny searched for a little bit, looking in boxes, underneath the counter and then a black case. There wasn't a lock on it, so Danny opened it and grinned at the sight.

Inside the case, was a Remington 870. "Sweeeet." Danny lifted it up, letting his hands get used to the weight. He pumped out a shell and examined it. "12 gauge, huh? Probably find some around here." So then he was off to look for ammo and possibly another gun for his sister. "Wonder how she's holding up…" Suddenly, Danny heard a loud explosion and saw a giant cloud of flame plume into the air from down the street. "This is going to be a long night…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Speaking of sisters, Lisa had just crawled through a bus filled with corpses of dead pedestrians. She stepped over the bodies cautiously. "Oh my god… is there no one else alive?" Lisa stepped over a few more bodies, not noticing the twitching one. "How the hell do so many die in one bus?! This is crazy!" Lisa was 17, only about 5'6, leaving her brother to tower over her.

Although she looked similar to her brother, she had a totally different personality. Lisa had brown eyes and long brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail, letting a little hang over her right eye. She wore a black sweater with some jeans.

She stepped over a few more corpses, almost to the front of the bus. The next sight startled her. She saw a small boy, probably only about 5 or 6, literally torn from the inside out. His ribcage had been destroyed beyond recognition, leaving his intestines all over the ground wrapping around what looked like his legs, other organs and… was that a lung? Lisa looked at his face for reassurance, noticing the complete agony on his face.

"I think I'm going to be sick…" She leaned over, fairly sure she was going to puke on this kid's shoes, when something grabbed her leg. She shot a look down, trying to kick the arm. It was the body that was twitching earlier (No surprise there…). She wriggled her leg violently, eventually breaking free and stepping on its head, officially crushing it. "Great, now I have brains under my boot. Beautiful." She was broke out of her train of thought when she saw a giant explosion down the street. She sighed and went to her entrance at the back of the bus.

"I hate my life." She said sadly.

ABOUT 20 MINUTES EARLIER…

Claire Redfield had just ridden into town; the deserted streets welcoming her. She removed her helmet, placing it on the warm seat of her bike. "I wonder how Chris will react to my new bike…" She glanced to the streets, noticing a few drunken people tripping over their feet on the corner. She was surprised when she didn't see anybody the first few streets. Seeing the drunks relieved her somehow.

"At least it's not deserted completely… I just hope Chris' okay…" Suddenly, after noticing the garbage next to the alley, an unbearable smell washed over. "Take the trash out lately?" She thought bitterly. "Whatever it is has to be toxic…" She looked through the glass window; no one. Not a damn soul. She frowned, someone was always here; it wasn't even nine yet either. "Okay… that's not suspicious". She thought sarcastically.

She entered the diner, not seeing anyone. She frowned again, not noticing any waitress's or customers. The only thing that welcomed her was that smell from outside. "Hmm… something's not right." Chris had been one disaster of a cook, usually living on ramen, cold soup and Emmy's, six days a week. She grabbed a cup of coffee, there was no steam, and the milk next to it seemed old. She walked around some of the tables, noticing random newspapers and books on the ground; peoples jackets still in their seats. "Where is everyone? Maybe the staff is in the back, hanging out, also wondering wh—that wouldn't explain the mess."

Claire hadn't noticed it at first, but the place was a bit disorderly. A few cups on the rolling on the counter here, a few menus on the ground there; pretty subtle for a mess. "Okay, I think it's time I got the hell out of here—" Her thought interrupted by the sound of soft shuffling. Her heart struck a beat as she gazed around the room, noticing a slight movement of a head bobbing up and down very slowly. The person grunted slightly, not before hearing a wet chewing sound.

Claire skulked around the L-shaped counter, trying to get a better look at the crouched man. The man was bald, wearing what looked like a cooks whites… but something was wrong… she tried to figure it out, she looked at the man's legs, noticing he was crouching over a waitress. It was a waitress alright, the pink uniform with the white tags proved it. Claire squinted at the name tag, trying to figure out what it said, probably 'Julie' or 'Julia'. It looked like she a red spot on her collar—

"—her head… it's… gone?"

Claire saw the sight, it very fresh in her mind. She tried to tell herself it was unreal, some sort of twisted joke. but she looked at it again, still missing. The only thing in the heads' place was a pool of dried blood; a little bit of hair and some gross bloody matter… the man let out a low, hurt-like moan. The thought of a human eating another is… fucking crazy. His hands were covered in what looked like blood and some other bodily organ; he also looked to be pulling out intestines and a dark, pulpy—

"Holy shit on a stick!" Claire had to cover her mouth to stop her from saying anything. She wasn't exactly sure what to do; you just don't see a guy having a feast on a waitress. "What's with this guy?! He's like some sort of… zombie?!" Claire was too busy freaking out over the corpse to notice the man. He was a very gray pale, bite marks covering one of elbows. His skin also let of a smell, kind of like decay or someth—

"Zombies, huh? Didn't see that coming." The sudden, calm realization left her in a state of terror. The 'thing' must have noticed her, because it sat up and turned her direction. His face was covered in blood, probably most of the waitress's. one of its very milky eyes were popped out on the left, leaving the right one to stare at her. it shuffled towards Claire ever so slowly, letting out another moan.

"Um. Uh… I'll be going now. Sorry to bother you!" Claire strafed around the end of the counter, backing into the door, her eyes still on the cook. She turned to open the door; only to see more of them outside. She let out a small scream. The one closest to the window had a gash where his nose should have been. The other one had something of a piece of glass through his eye, leaving the other unscathed. She stopped, practically hopeless now.

"Oh Fuck me… I don't want to die in a— the back door!" She ran the back door, noticing the cook monster a little too close. She gripped the handle to left and right vigorously; but it wouldn't open. The cook was getting closer; she could feel his rancid breath. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—"

The door shot open suddenly, the barrel of a gun now staring at her. She shot up her hands defensively. "Don't shoot!"

"Move!" she shot to the right, enough from her legs giving out to a hand shoving her aside. The gun fired once, smoke leaving its barrel. Claire twisted her neck just to catch the cook fall on his back and spasm for a second. She glanced at the gunman, noticing the uniform instantly. Cop. He wiped some of the sweat off his head with his sleeve and offered to help Claire up. "C'mon, we can't stay here." His voice was strong, but a hint of fear could be heard. At least he was copping well.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leon and the girl ran out of the alley next to store, shooting across the street fast into another alley. He knew the alley; it should have let out on Halverson, the only problem? it was a good 20 blocks west to the police station. "No car, No go." Leon thought sadly. "I think I finally hate my life enough now." The alley was coming to an end. On the street, Leon scanned around the street.

"12 to the right… 2 to the left… 1 in front next to the—Jackpot!" Hooked on the curb in front was a police cruiser, no damage done whatsoever. It was practically calling to them. "There!" Leon announced quietly. The car's driver door was wide open; Leon didn't think much of it; except the fact someone might have slightly possibly took the keys. He entered the car, hoping that the keys were here. He grabbed around the key input thing (I don't know what it's called)… "God, you'd better love me…" he moved his hand, and came over the key. He smirked and let out a mental 'thanks'. The car roared to life, starting it's journey into a new hell...