Next chapter to "Alliance of the Bands".

Three days after last event…

Roadkill. The Canadian bassist of the Scythez. When he and Murdoc had first met, he grew furious since he thought that Murdoc had stolen his cigarettes. However, realizing the foolish mistake he had done, Roadkill had somewhat tried to make peace with the Satanist. But Murdoc refused. And for that, Murdoc held a thick grudge with Roadkill. Even though Roadkill himself did not see it, nor wanted to part of it. And for that, Murdoc had tried to trick him. Not only cruelly, but possibly even deadly as well. Roadkill enjoyed smoking. Not a wild and heavy smoker like Murdoc, but he smoked. Not very much, Just about two a week basically. So, Roadkill strode down to Murdoc's Winnebago and gently knocked twice on the door.

A voice filled with vulgar language approached the door before it opened. "Wot?" asked Murdoc quietly, but rudely. The Canadian rubbed the back of his neck, and asked casually, "Um, yeah, um, do you know where I can buy cigs?" That's all? Roadkill had disrupted him just to ask him that!? Murdoc's silent rage swirled and screamed out in anger inside of his mind. His blood boiled in irritation and fury. The Satanist thought of slamming the door in the Scythez-bassist's face. However, his anger caused him to develop a dangerous plan. A plan that may be risky and life-threatening. But, to Murdoc, could be one of the most satisfying plans ever conjured up. In the back of his mind, Murdoc was cackling wickedly. Murdoc gave him directions. Roadkill politely thanked him, and left for the store. The evil scheme that Murdoc whipped up in his dark and vicious mind was the zombies. The undead that surrounded Kong Studios would be a perfect plan to get Roadkill, especially since Murdoc had such a twisted taste for humor. The zombies had been very few in numbers lately, and this could just give Roadkill a small scare. After all, zombies were stupid and slow. The lycanthropy-stricken man could easily outrun them. Besides, if there was a zombie he couldn't manage to escape, he could merely grab an item of the surrounding landfill to beat it until it was out cold (temporarily).

Landfill of Kong Studio

The Canadian walked through the countless items buried inside of the landfills of Kong Studios. The graves loomed eerily in the darkness of the night. Roadkill? Nothing new to him. After all, he inhabitated a studio filled with poltergeists that create such rackets. Once or twice, a ghost would show themselves hovering about in the darkness of a corridor. Since there were countless ghosts haunting their studio, it would often be a woman in a flowing, white, elegant dress. Or sometimes it would be a small boy, scurrying along the hallways, with his fists clenched and dressed up as a colonist. Whatever or whoever they were, they were no longer frightening, and, like said earlier, The Scythez had somewhat become friends with them. The Scythez would allow them to inhabit their homes, and in return, not make loud noises or cause destruction. However, zombies were different from phantoms. Zombies did not have the capability to speak, think, or even walk correctly!

Two crows sitting on one of the branches of the many twisted and curled trees stared at the werewolf, slowly passing by. This time, there was no haze in the air. The moon had the appearance of a ghostly orb in the sky. The moonlight changed the pitch-black sky to a shade of an extremely dark shade of blue. Of course, he knew that he should be careful with his gaze of it. It was sort of late at night, and the zombies were very quiet. Murdoc sat in his Winnebago, and watched quietly from his window with a pair of binoculars. He chuckled evilly, as he watched the Canadian slowly approaching Kong Studios.

"Heh heh heh! Yea', tha's right arse-face. Keep walkin'." The Satanist whispered to himself aloud.

Roadkill walked over through the objects of filth lying in every corner. He felt nothing as he walked through the barren land of destroyed items and dead bodies buried deep under the earth. But…that's when something inside of him occurred. It happened in his mind. It was as if his mind was a firecracker and a spark flew upon the fuse. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up completely, and he felt a chill slowly slither down his spine. Heavy silence engulfed the area, but his instincts, both that of a demon's and a werewolf's, said very different. His eyes slowly changed to a suspicious squint, and his teeth gritted. As if trying to catch someone in surprise, he whirled around. Nobody was there. He arched his eyebrow, and took a quick inspection of the area. No one was around, except for himself and those malicious-looking crows. That's when he heard a sound. Not just any sound however. It sounded like something was prying itself from underground. Roadkill, hearing this sound and immediately reacting, and was stupefied at the sight.

A corpse hand was popping up from the ground. The Canadian's eyes stayed regular-sized, yet he slowly backed away. Another hand popped right next to the previous one. Then, the two hands clutched the floor, and slowly began yanking itself upwards. The face…ohhh…the face…it was a hideous face. The zombie's eyes were glowing a crimson red. Its skin was peeling off like old paint. Its teeth were yellow and dreadfully crooked. Its scalp was vainy and disgustingly pale. It groaned lifelessly and hungrily. It put both its palms on the floor, and pushed downward. The zombie then stood nearly 6.3 (Roadkill's height is 6.6). Roadkill and the corpse just stared at each other. The zombie had an awful odor to it. It outstretched its arms and began groaning hungrily, craving for human flesh. The Scythez-bassist slowly began backing away from the undead creature. But, he stopped on something. He gazed down. An iron pipe. Without thinking a second more, he reached down, and scooped it up. He was ready to swing it like a baseball bat. But then, another hand appeared! And another! And another! Now, many zombies were rising up from underground. The lycanthropy-stricken man looked around frantically. Literally, there were thousands and thousands of zombies around him. All wanting to devour the flesh of his bones. He gritted his teeth, and then swiped at the first zombie's head with the pipe. Its head went flying away. He then turned around and walked another zombie with it. The undead creature let out a groan of pain, and collapsed. Roadkill, again, turned to another zombie and whacked its torso off. But that time, he hit the zombie so hard with the pipe, that it went broke in two. The Scythez-bassist stared at the worthless weapon, and muttered "Oh, shit!"

Weaponless, he turned to see the zombies. All were moaning lifelessly and walking towards him with their arms outstretched in front of them. Roadkill then charged to one of them, and he tore its arms off. He then swiped his leg at its shins, and the zombie collapsed on the floor. The undead creature lay limbless. Roadkill stared at it for a minute, and then…

It leaped up, and with large teeth, and it began trying to chew off his shoulder. It was clinging onto his shoulder with its teeth. Blood squirted everywhere from the werewolf's shoulder. He cried out in pain, and began trying to shove off the zombie's head. He finally seemed to push off the hungry undead creature. He rubbed his shoulder. Blood was dripping off. While trying to get a moment to heal, he heard a monstrous barking. He turned to his right, and saw a large, black-furred zombie dog! Its eyes were glowing red, and its large teeth were bared. It was lunging for him. Roadkill stared at it, and then it pounced for his neck. However, Roadkill reached grabbed its own neck, and punched it right on the nose. It whimpered and scurried away in pain. It was not over yet though! He felt a grip of cold, slimy, old hands clamp around his ankle. He looked down, and saw a pair of zombie's hands popping from out of the ground. It then popped its head out, and began fiercely biting Roadkill's ankle. He screeched out in pain, and began stomping on its face. Eventually, he was released, but he still had a wounded shoulder, and now, a wounded ankle. Unfortunately, there were still tons of zombies. And then, he felt a pair of claws pierce deeply inside both his shoulders. He screamed out in anguish, and he felt himself being dragged by powerful arms. Seconds later, more biting occurred. A zombie was chewing in his other shoulder! He tried to elbow it off, but he was missing…badly! The zombie had pierced his skin when he finally managed to knock off the hungry creature of the night. He panted heavily. He now had two wounded shoulders! And the zombies constantly rose from under the ground. He had to do something, and fast! There were two choices:

Get mercilessly torn and eaten apart by mindless and ruthless zombies

Transform

He had to defend himself. He had already tried doing it in human form. However, it looks like it wasn't exactly working. So there was only one choice. He gulped, shut his eyes, and lowered his head. His fingers balled up into fists and in his mind he prayed:

Oh…please…god…keep me safe from these wretched creatures…

And then, he slowly opened his eyes, and he stared at the ivory sphere in the sky. The moon let out a soft, silvery shine throughout the dark night. It was the only source of light in the entire graveyard. Roadkill just stared at the orb for a moment, and then…came a pain inside of his torso. He grunted, and he collapsed on his knees in pain. A very rapid and thick sweat began dripping from his forehead. His entire body trembled violently. That's when, suddenly, thick black fur began suddenly growing on his hands and feet. His normal-sized nails suddenly began extending out and grew extremely sharp. His face turned into a dog-like snout and his ears turned pointed and stood up. Muscles began bulging out from his arms and legs. His voice grew deep and monstrous. He grabbed at his shirt/trench coat, and he tore it apart, revealing his torso had grown much-more muscular and had thick, black fur all over it. His eyes glowed twice as bright as they did when he was angry, and his fang-like teeth doubled in size. In fact, his entire body grew three times its size! Finally, the pain stopped. He let out a thunderous snarl, and he stared around hungrily at the undead, gazing at the man who had now transformed into a werewolf! Roadkill bared his teeth, had his ears pointed backwards, and his eyes glowed furiously! His snarl sounded like a roll of thunder. He had very long and muscular arms, and his nails were as long and sharp as survival knives. His muscles were like bowling balls attached to his arms. The black fur on his entire body camouflaged with him in the darkness of the night. Then, he pointed his nose to the sky, and let out an ear-shattering, menacing howl to the sky.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!

"Wot…teh' bloody fuckin' 'ell…!?" Murdoc whispered aloud to himself from the safety of his Winnebago. He was still watching, yet daring not to make a sound, neither for the zombies or the monstrous Roadkill. The werewolf rapidly looked from left to right, as if saying "Who wants some!?", and by the looks of it, no zombie wanted any. But then, came a familiar barking. Roadkill looked to the right, and saw the same zombie dog that he had knocked out earlier. It snarled, barked furiously, and bared its teeth. The werewolf then, threw its head back, and out came three thunderous barks! The dog, like before, whimpered and scurried away. Then, without a moment to lose, the werewolf-Roadkill began running around like a bolt of lightning, and slashed at the undead with his malicious claws. One swipe of his mighty arm and he took out three zombies at once. He slashed at a few zombies, and then turned to one behind and pounced on it! He leaped upon the dead man and he put his mouth on his head, and instantly crushed its skull with his jaws. Once more, Roadkill began charging and slashing at his foes. The zombies stood there, and stared at this plague from hell. Then, getting a weak thought, they slowly began backing away! Even though zombies were rather dimwitted, they had enough knowledge to that if they got tangled with him, "Their asses were screwed". In a strange form of fear, they began backing away from the malicious wolf. However, Roadkill was being ruthless now, and he tore any zombie that caught his sight. But then, came a monstrous snarl. Not from him, but from another zombie dog.

This one was twice as large as the other, and this one looked more fierce and demonic. Its ears were long and pointed, and its eyes glowed a blood red. Globs of saliva drooled from its clenched teeth. Roadkill stared at this beast, and growled in anger. The two dogs stared at each other, both waiting to see which opponent moves first. Without a hint of warning, the zombie dog leaped and its bite seized Roadkill's shoulder. The werewolf roared out in pain, and the zombie dog growled as it held on. Seeing the zombie dog weakening the monster, the zombies began walking forward again. One by one, they all leaped onto Roadkill, chewing on him, still trying to get the meat off his bones. A sudden burst of rage exploded inside the Canadian. His eyes glowed like a pair of headlights, and he tossed every single zombie off of him. And then he reached for the zombie dog's lower right leg, and he bit fiercely into it. He heard the zombie dog whimper in anguish. The taste of decaying blood went through his teeth, and then he tore the dog off of him, and held it by the neck. He then roared right into its face, and he snapped its neck. He tossed it carelessly to the side. The zombies began walking back once more, and then, just as they appeared, they sank back down underneath the earth.

It was over. Roadkill had won. But, still feeling the effects of lycanthropy, he pointed his nose up at the sky, and let out a slow, haunting howl. A howl of his victory. "The wolf's song", as Native-Americans would call it. Even thought he was victorious, he suffered heavy wounds. His shoulders were severely injured, and so was his ankle. Yet, still feeling fierce, he stretched out his neck, and began sniffing. Murdoc still watched from his Winnebago, startled at the Canadian's strange power! Then, he noticed Roadkill's haunting yellow eyes. They were looking at his!

No…no way…thought Murdoc reassuringly, 'e ain't lookin' at me! Murdoc spoke too soon. The insane Roadkill began sprinting at the speed of light towards the Satanist's Winnebago. Murdoc threw his binoculars and cried out with his eyes wide "Oie! Shit! 'E's gonna fuckin' rip me apart!" And before getting to safety, Roadkill had easily tore his door down. Murdoc stared at the monster with his eyes peeled open. He panted insanely, and without a warning, it seized Murdoc's neck! The bassist felt his feet lifting off the ground, and his oxygen ceasing rapidly. He tried to cry out for help, but the devious grip had his windpipe nearly crushed. Just a few seconds more, and he would have been both dead, and Roadkill's BBQ. But then, Murdoc heard Roadkill let out a questioning grunt. He squinted one eye open, and saw the werewolf. He sniffed, and then he released him, letting him fall with a thud. Murdoc rubbed his bottom and stared at the beast. It whimpered and slowly began backing away. Roadkill felt his nails decreasing, and his bones weakening. His body suddenly began sucking the fur back in, and his teeth shrunk rapidly. The muscles on his long arms shrunk as well. He slowly returned to sanity. Finally, Roadkill was his normal self again. He stood wobbly and drunkenly, and his eyes were squinted. Murdoc still gazed at him. The Scythez-bassist was naked, and he had severe wounds on him. But…out of Roadkill's lips came"…M…M-Murdoc…" in a hoarse whisper, and then, he collapsed face down onto the floor. Silence. Nothing came from him. Not a twitch or noise. Murdoc thought for a second. Murdoc had tried to get back at him. So he sent hordes of zombies after him. That didn't work. And Roadkill was going to easily slaughter him…but did not. Why? Because Roadkill considered Murdoc a friend of his. So he spared his life. Murdoc carefully picked up the tall bassist, and he placed him on his back. He slowly walked over to Kong Studios. And while walking, in the faintest tone of voice, in the gentlest voice he has ever done, he whispered, "…I'm…I'm…sorry…"

Whoa! This got me all adrenaline-filled! Roadkill is one of my favorite OCs, so I felt bad for the attacks he received. But, he kicked zombie…well…you know. XD! Anyways, the main inspiration for this chapter was "Dead Rising", a videogame which I do not own. But, other than that, it was all me. Please review!