Mystral. Wish I could say where I was still was Mystal. I've grown to call it; "Zombieland." Yeah. So, that's a thing. I've managed to stay my-optimistic-self, or at least I would…. If there were anyone around. I always was antisocial, but this. This is killing me. Well. No. The zombies are TRYING to kill me. A for effort! If zombies cared about grades, then I could just stop them and tell them that they got an A for effort, and they would just be wasting their time trying to eat me…. Naw. They'd do it anyway. For extra credit.

Believe it or not, this whole shit-fan fiasco has been going on for two months. Thought I would have made it further by now. I was on the west shore of Mystral, some one-man mission Ozpin sent me on. Long story short, and to keep confidentially, I did what I had been sent for, going for my bullhead, bullhead crashed. For reasons unknown. And I began to make my way back to Beacon Academy. In Vale. Yeah. Long fucking way. Just, eh, open a new tab and look at a map of Remnant… see that little peninsula that sticks out straight towards that little unnamed island? That's where I was. Where am I now? See that little patch of desert? I'm two hundred miles away from that…

Want me to go in depth of my experience with the zombie apocalypse? Where was I when shit hit the fan? I was actually in my hotel room when shit hit the fan… And probably would have died if my semblance wasn't speed… Explanation?

I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door, so I opened it. Of course. "Help me!" The chick from 636 said. Yeah, I knew what room she was staying in. And contrary to popular belief, I'm not gay. Don't know why people think I'm gay! I'm not. I have a boyfriend. He's in Vale, but he's real.

Anyway, 636 said that someone attacked her, bit her, telltale signs of a fucking zombie apocalypse. Shoulda cunt punted that bitch. Guess she knew I was a huntress. Well, I'm a huntress in training.

I let her stick around, while I went to sleep. When I woke up, she was bleeding out of her mouth, and was about to fucking bite me. I dashed away. "The hell?" I asked. Didn't have such a dirty mouth then.

She responded with lunging at me. Dashed again, and ran for the door, which she blocked. "Calm down!" I said.

I ran for the bathroom, and closed the door behind me, and locked it. She tore the door down and I smacked her with the toilet lid. Big ceramic bit, you know? Curb stomped her, grabbed my scythe, and put a few sniper rounds into her head. Did I mention that my scythe is also a highly customizable, high impact sniper rifle. In other words; It's also a gun.

Fast forward to now— you know what, I'll tell you the secret to my survival; rules. Gotta have rules. Rule number one; Cardio. Fatties die first. Saw quite a few fat bastards die tryina run. Rule #2: Double tap, Columbus: In those moments where you're not quite sure if the undead are really dead, dead, don't get all stingy with your bullets. I mean, one more clean shot to the head, and someone could have avoided becoming a human Happy Meal. Woulda... coulda... shoulda. Rule #3: beware of bathrooms. In other words, avoid stalls, only places where you can see everything coming. #7, Travel light. I always was kind of a loner, exception being my team at Beacon, they say there's safety in numbers. There isn't. Maybe use them for meat shields. I know I'm all over the place, but I'm just gonna give you the basics. Number five, no attachments. If all the girls in your neighborhood are now little fucked up monsters, it's a good idea to stop carpooling. Which brings me to our next rule, it's quite simple after all, buckle up. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Why did I survive? Probably because I played it safe and followed the rules.

As I said before, I'm on my way to Beacon Academy, to find my sister and Team, assuming they're alive. I never really got that close with people, but I just wanna see a familiar face. Or any face that isn't dripping with blood.

Okay, so fast forward to now, what happened before now isn't really important. Well, today anyway. Just decided to write all this down, who knows, if this ever blows over, I can publish this.

I was really just walking down the road, when I saw an SUV with a "3" painted on the side. I stuck out my thumb, hitchhiker style. And believe it or not, he stopped.

"Thanks for stopping." I told him as I got in and checked the backseat. Remember the rules. "What're you looking for?" He asked.

"I have this list."

"Ain't nothin' back there but my duffel bag."

"What's your name?"

"No. No names. Don't wanna get attached to anyone."

"Okay, where are you headed?"

"Tallahassee."

"Where's that?"

"Patch."

"Oh."

Tallahassee wore a brown, worn leather jacket, with an old stetson. He looked to be as old as my father…. Probably around earlier to mid forties.

"Where are you headed?" He asked me.

"Vale."

He suddenly pulled over and got out, I followed him as he walked down a hill, approaching an old Hostess truck. I kinda kept watch, making sure no zombies killed anyone. When he screamed in agony. I jumped and looked back at where he was. "SNOWBALLS!" He yelled. "Fucking snowballs!"

He was talking about the coconut treat, also made by Hostess. "What's wrong with snowballs?" I asked.

"I hate coconut. Not the taste. The consistency." As he said this, I picked one up and ate it.

We both got back in his car, and he drove… To a grocery store? Found out, he's in search of a Twinkie.

"Believe it or not," he said. "Twinkies have an expiration date, and that day is coming soon."

When we got there, I just followed him around, not a lot going on. Since we've got some empty space of Tallahassee looking for a Twinkie, I might as well answer a few questions you might be thinking. Do I have a plan B? Yes. I do. If Beacon is gone, I go to Patch. Back home. Maybe Yang (my sister) went home, but knowing her, I'm gonna run into her on the way to Vale.

As I thought about this, a zombie rounded the corner. He was a fat motherfucker. Fatties go first. Since I didn't know how many zombies were in there, I ran towards Tallahassee, who had a bat ready to swing. I could hear the fat fucker on my tail. "Don't swing! Don't swing!" I said, just before I slid under his bat. "Swing!" He swung and bashed the fat bastard's head open.

#8: Get a kick-ass partner.

"Thanks." I told him.

He didn't respond, as another fat motherfucker came around the corner. "You've really let yourself go." Tallahassee taunted. I pointed my shotgun at the fat bastard, and Tallahassee pushed my gun down, pulling out hedge clippers. "I'm just gonna take a little off the top." He said.

When he was done, he tossed the mangled hedge clippers off to the side. "Momma always said I'd be good at somethin'. Never could have guessed that thing would be zombie killin'." He said.

"I don't think anyone could." I said. "Grimm, maybe."

"I never cared much for Grimm."

"That's why you kill 'em."

"I meant killin' 'em."

"Oh."