cough, cough. what can I say? i'm a smart son of a bitch. There I was writing a new chapter for born to kill at the same time that I was working on a one short that will be published soon, when the new resident evil 3 remake demo appeared on YouTube recommendations (Jill's new look is hot). It gave me some ideas, and when I saw myself, I really liked what had come up. I hope you like it and leave your review, even if it is not positive. Because reviews ... for me ... are like fuel, regardless of whether they are good or bad. Without further ado, take this prologue.

Midwest region of the united states. Arklay County. September 24, 1998. 3:15 am

The car's engine roared as the vehicle sped down the deserted highway at great speed. With nothing but the glow and desert landscape to highlight the path of federal agents. Who talked casually and seemed to be relaxed despite the presence of their passenger from the back seat, just watching the road and waiting for a window of opportunity to resume what had been taken from him since he boarded that car. His freedom.

"So we stayed there, waiting for the other to start making out. It went on for a while, until-

"You two were drunk, but still neither of you could Start make out at that point?" The older agent asked with an eyebrow raised questioningly to his younger partner. Irony pouring out in his words.

"It sounds kind of stupid when you talk like that."

"Well, maybe because it was a little bit. During my early years in college, it was never a problem for me."

"I don't think it was in the plans to join the FBI either, or build a small house in the county and raise a family."

"No, not really. Things just happen, kid."

"You know, this nostalgia is very interesting. But could you stop the car for me to take a quick piss?" The man who had fallen under the responsibility of the two agents spoke, cutting off the conversation and annoying them with the memory of his presence.

"Shut up. "It was all the response he received from the veteran agent, who adjusted the rearview mirror to get a better view of the man handcuffed in the back seat.

His clean-shaven face, with a scar running down his forehead to his right cheek, had a cynical smile on his face. While keeping his green eyes staring uniformly at the officer.

His eyes expressed a pure, simple and unmistakable intention of violence and death. Being directed completely towards the two agents. Frank Marrone had seen many things in his career at the FBI. Things that went from the most banal to the most monstrous actions committed by man. But the things he will hear from that particular prisoner, and the deadly gleam in his eyes, were enough to send alerts throughout his body and make him look away.

"So… .Do you think it will take us long to arrive?" The young agent spoke, trying to make only one attempt to break the silence and the tension of the climate that had been established in the vehicle. He had read the prisoner's files and understood why he would need to be careful. But the fact that the individual's presence made Frank tense scared him.

"Probably just a few more hours, it shouldn't be too long."

"Hope so."

The trip was conducted in relative silence. Until the infamous passenger, to the inconvenience of the two federal agents, spoke again.

"Oh almighty god! Please give me an empty bottle of whiskey so I can pee!"

Frank turned his attention back to the convict, but instead of telling him to be quiet or make it clear that he had a right to remain silent. He chose not to let his annoyance show, since that was what his little inconvenience wanted. Then he just replied:

"You know, Blake, I hear that the place you are going to is not very tolerant of cop killers. I wonder what the guards have in store for you."

It just raised a scary smile from the convict, who casually replied the agent.

"And I ask myself what surprises they have in store for negligent federal agents who run over pedestrians."

"What the fuck are you talking about, you shit !?" Frank turned and glared at his prisoner. Totally unaware of what was on the road ahead.

"Frank, put your damn eyes on the road!" His partner's explosion made Frank concentrate on the road again. But it was too late and the car was just inches from hitting the guy.

"Shit!"

Crasshh!

The veteran agent did his best to dodge, but did not stop the vehicle from hitting the pedestrian. The car spun a little when Frank slammed on the brake, stopping the car and breathing in exasperation.

"Holy shit… this is bad, very bad. "The young agent whispered to himself as he looked at the pedestrian lying on the road. Her heart was beating fast at the realization of what had happened. His eyes unable to move past the body lying on the road.

"That's what I was talking about"

The cold, ironic words that came out of the convict's mouth had been heard enough by Frank. This made the agent turn around furiously, sending a deadly look that could easily kill.

"Now listen to me your piece of shit! You don't speak unless i say it! Otherwise, I'll be making a hole in this damn desert and burying you up! Did I make myself clear ?!

He showed no reaction to the agent's explosion, not even blinked. Instead, his smile widened even more and he said absolutely nothing. He just looked at the agent with a smug look.

"Nate, keep an eye on him."

"But where are you going?" The young agent asked his partner in exasperation. The shock of what had happened, accompanied by the idea of being left alone with this man hitting him like a punch.

"See if the person is still alive. We can't just leave after what happened. Now listen, don't talk to him or take your eyes off him. I'll be right back."

With that said, Frank took off his seat belt and opened the car door. Hurriedly walking towards the hit and run victim. Thoughts running through his head about the prospect of this person not surviving were baffling him. He prayed to god that it wouldn't come true, that there would be a chance for the poor individual.

Approaching the fallen pedestrian, Frank was relieved to hear moans that indicated that there was still life in the man. And then horrified, when he saw what could only be described as grotesque. The man, apparently alive, had a decayed and horrible appearance. Carne caindo de seu rosto e uma mandíbula parcialmente exposta. The "creature" let out a groan and grabbed Frank by the arm. His eyes expressing only an insatiable hunger. Hungry for the smallest piece of meat while grabbing the federal agent's arm and trying to bring it to his mouth.

"What the fuck? Back off, you bizarre thing! Get off me!"

Frank fought the zombie's grip, who seemed determined to get a piece of the agent. That was not the outcome the living dead got when Frank sent a kick to his jaw. It made the thing give way, but he still kept his grip on the agent. He repeated the blow again, breaking free from the zombie's claws and pulling out his Beretta. The zombie could only crawl towards the agent, due to the crash of the car having reduced its already limited mobility.

"What the hell is that?" Frank asked himself as he watched the thing slowly crawl towards him. This was not something that should be possible, it was not something that made sense. This was just too much for him to swallow at that moment. He ran back to the car, wishing he hadn't seen what he just saw.

"Nate, let's get out of here. When we're done, I think we'll have to report that…"

Things tend to take a turn for the worse. This occasion would not be the exception. Those were the thoughts of the federal agent when he found himself in front of the vehicle. The rear seat, completely empty. And his partner… .was there, sitting. The head rotated at an unnatural angle. His neck was totally twisted and broken. With his corpse wearing an expression of…. surprise.

Guilt, remorse and regret flooded the veteran agent's chest. Nate saw him as a kind of idol. Someone he admired and inspired. He was her partner and trusted him. And now, he had let him be killed. A premature death that he didn't deserve, a death that would have been avoided if he hadn't been so careless and careless. All the pain of the loss of his partner was quickly replaced by the anger. Anger at knowing exactly who was responsible for this.

"Where are you? You son of a bitch in heat!" Frank yelled as he took out his pistol and aimed it frantically in all directions. Trying to see any indication of a presence in the total darkness of the night. He took the flashlight he always left on his belt and started to go to the rear of the car, in case the bastard was there. Not very surprising, there was nothing. He kept looking for any indication of where his prisoner was, ignoring the zombie who was intensifying his efforts to reach the agent. This went on for at least 20 minutes until Frank finally gave up.

"Fuck… Miserable motherfucker." He cursed as he put his gun away. He started to turn to go back to the car, but he didn't get anywhere.

Bang!

The sound of the gunshot was the first thing Frank noticed. The second was the painful burning sensation that settled in his abdomen. Then the last thing he knew was that he was falling towards the ground. His back will hit the asphalt, taking the air out of it. The confusion quickly disappeared when he saw the figure emerging from the shadows and standing before him. Beretta M9 in hand, black sleeveless shirt and dirty and worn combat pants, were enough for him to identify the shooter.

"Yeah, I think the guards are going to have to keep special treatments for themselves, Frank." He aimed the gun at the federal agent's head. His smug expression was replaced by a neutral, empty expression. Devoid of any emotion when he stood before him.

The last thing Frank saw was the weapon of the man who had fallen on his responsibility to be aimed at his head.

Bang!

POV: Sean Blake.

I watched as life left the eyes of the federal agent when the bullet landed perfectly in his skull. Tsc, tsc, tsc. What a waste, Frank. If only you had paid attention to the road.

I moved away from his corpse, passing the partner's body in the passenger seat. Dislocating the wrist and evading the handcuffs was the easy part. Breaking the Boy's neck, even easier. Newbies.

I looked at the source of that small window of opportunity. The creature, for want of a better term, crawled towards me. With a look on his dead face that I knew and understood very well.

"Hunger is difficult, isn't it?" Hunger was the only thing that had the eyes of that thing. A primal and animalistic hunger that needed to be satisfied no matter what the cost.

I started walking towards the walking corpse. He cannot do me any harm in this weakened condition.

"You are hungry, a predatory hunger." I put my boot on the thing's head, keeping the thing in place.

"You may be an animal, but I'm still at the top of the food chain." With that said, I started to stomp on the thing's head. Spreading brain fluid and material all over the asphalt. I did this repeatedly while the thing intensified its efforts to grab my leg. At one point, he stopped moving.

I turned my back on the creature and headed for the car. I unhooked the corpse's belt and threw it on the road. I stepped on the gas and moved on.

Time to ride towards the sun.