Russia

March 23, 1986

1:52 A.M.

Nekro's skin melts away, the imagined visage having finally been beaten back by the heroes. However, not all was well, as all four gypsies vomited blood on the already blood-stained floor of the penthouse. The entire place was trashed, the only things not knocked ever or collapsed were the couches at the very edges of the room. Everything had damage ranging from tables with broken legs, to pictures ripped out of their frames, and the dead torso of The Premier stuck to his desk with knives.

Nekro, a drug all 4 had gotten themselves addicted to (albeit involuntarily) had wrecked all of their bodies. Sure, without it they wouldn't have been able to get this far, but it was also the very thing killing them. Enhanced speed, strength, and healing all symptoms of a body that takes to it well. Flesh-eating zombies being the results of not. Another round of blood vomiting waved through the Russians.

"Ughhh…" groaned Sergei. Sergei is a muscular yet lean built man with buzz-cut brown hair. A small scar runs vertically under his right eye and he has no facial hair. He's wearing a white tank top with a black and red jacket that has a golden boxing glove on the back. Bloody hand-wraps adorn his fists. His pants are fairly baggy athletic pants with a stripe running down the side, a fair amount of blood had collected on the knees over his journey. Red-laced black sneakers with blood caked to the bottom on his feet. He was holding a hand over his chest, panting heavily.

Vlad, the leader of the Romanian Rebellion, walked in. Wearing a white shirt underneath his matching green jacket and beret. He also had black pants and boots. His facial features were mostly covered with a black beard and glasses. Upon seeing the carnage of the penthouse and the state the four were in he exclaims, "Oh, my god! You're alive!."

"Ahh… Vlad… I…" Sergei tried to stutter something, but instead, another wave of blood erupted from each of the heroes' mouths.

"Jesus… took too much nekro again? After everything you did to make it this far... How can you go on putting this shit into your body?!" Vlad shouted.

"Ahh... Help us, Vlad… We… The nekro… It's killing us… Need a hospital…" Natasha pleaded. Natasha was the smallest of the group. Her red hair tied into a ponytail. Her arms were covered in tattoos, as well as gloves with stained, studded knuckles on each fist. She wore a black tube top and red pants. One of her black boots had grey laces while the other had red.

"... Too late for that I'm afraid. All the roads are blocked off. Even if I called an ambulance, they'd never make it in time…" Vlad told them, a sad look in his eyes.

"N-no… No, I… I'm begging you… ughh…" Natasha pleaded again. While it was unusual for her to ask for help, she also wasn't on the edge of dying from an overdose.

"I'm sorry…" "..." All fell to quiet. As the situation sunk into each of the heroes, something snapped.

Boris, the deranged psycho, covered in scars and arm tattoos. Bald at the top with a wild black beard around the rest of his head. Wearing nothing but red arm wraps, bandages across his chest, green shorts, and white ankle wraps. Gone was his maniacal smile with that one missing tooth. Instead, a look of pure rage. He let out a scream of agony, his entire face red with anger, and tore out his own throat with his hands. His body hadn't yet touched the ground when Sergei ripped off his tank top. Sergei then fell to a kneel not a moment before Ivan, the big guy, fell to both, clawing at the top of his head. Ivan was massive, tall, built like a tank, and had arms like trees. Bald except for his greying black beard. A large scar wrapped around his missing left eye. He had bloodied white wraps around his elbows, and a black sleeveless shirt. Red pants with yellow knee patches covered his legs, with short black boots with grey laces for his feet. He had as many, if not more, scars than Boris. After a short hesitation, Ivan then ripped the sides of his face off, taking his good eye as well. He fell flat on the ground as Sergei's legs finally gave out and he collapsed on his side. Natasha, clutching both sides of her head, let out a final blood-curdling scream, before falling to the ground as well.

"...Rest in peace, comrades. They targeted you because no-one would mourn you… But I will. I'll never forget who you were, what you did. And I'll keep the fight going to put this country back together." Vlad fell quiet, giving one last mental thank you to each of the heroes before leaving the penthouse.

And this is where the story ends, right? The protagonists finally lose a fight and pay with their lives. They will become known as the martyrs of the revolution. It seems like it's all over. No. Because I believe with a little imagination and determination. This story can go beyond a penthouse in Russia. It can go all the way to a planet called, Remnant.