Didn't know creeps who depend on Google Translate for advertising their creepy relationship meeds used the review section...

...Medic. I need that medigun. My brainplace is scared.

-A Bigger Gun-

"You're CRAZY, John."

Kyle seemed both interested in my story and at the same time outright pissed off. "Why the hell would you go up to a Survivor and just hand them shit?!"

"But Louis needed it!" I shot back. Kyle sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Of course he did, but when someone - may I remind you, WITH GUNS - needs help, do we waltz up to them and fucking hand them supplies?"

"Shut up for a second, I hear them," I said, abruptly ending the argument as the red door swung open. Bill, of course, came out first.

Ignoring Kyle's huff of annoyance, I slowly followed them along the rooftops, listening or conversation.

Nothing.

Even Francis, who's said more words in 12 hours than I have in weeks, went silent. What happened?

I took a quick look at the girl from last night when they were distracted by several Commons. She was visibly shaken by last night, but the look of determination on her face worried me.

She must've been looking for me.

"Reloa-" Francis suddenly stopped as he stuffed one lonely shell into his dry shotgun. "Shit, Zoey, you sure there's nothing in that pack you found for me?"

"No, Francis," Zoey said, "just use a different gun, we passed by plenty."

"You're tellin' me to ditch Beth?" Francis questioned, kicking a Common's face in. I almost fell over laughing.

Who NAMES A GUN?

"Kyle, the bald one needs shotgun rounds," I muttered to him, and the Smoker paused, looking through the few boxes of ammo we brought, before tossing the box of 12 gauges down to them onto a bush. Francis, who was closest, jumped back as the metal box 'magically' came down from the sky, before slowly going through it and restocking his ammo. "Uh, nevermind," he said.

Throughout the rest of their trek they were a bit more talkative. Mostly the guys asking Zoey how and where she got the pack of supplies.

"I just found them last night," she'd keep saying.

Kyle suddenly tensed up, and I looked at him questioningly. "Tank," he whispered, "they're going right to him."

I stood there for a while before an idea came up. "Get the rocket launcher," I said, and hurriedly slid down the pole on the side of the building.

Wait. This is stupid, I'm about to run up to Survivors and expect them to stop before shooting...

Instead, I ran around them, bringing an AKM I found along the way to look a bit more... Survivory.

I spotted an open building uncomfortably close to the Tank's location, and hurried inside it. None of the Commons inside went for me. I was technically one of them anyway.

At the rooftop, I watched as the Survivors rushed towards my building, a small horde following them. Quickly, I began firing into the Infected, taking several down almost immediately.

This gun was great.

"Guys! Go around, there's a Tank inside!" I yelled down. I managed to see the Tank in some kind of laundry room, pushing the washing machines around curiously, completely unaware of the gunfire.

Bill looked up first, instinctively bringing his gun sight up to look at me. But I must have looked human enough, because he nodded and gestured for the others to follow him into the alleyway next to the house.

Zoey looked up at me, and I saw the look of shock on her face. She seemed hesitant to follow her friends, until a Hunter screeched out.

Shit.

That sound was like a beacon for Tanks to follow.

Almost immediately, the Tank busted through the wall of the apartment building, looking around wildly before its eyes locked on poor Zoey.

"To the left!" I yelled at her, and she almost immediately bolted towards the alley as the Tank swung it's massive fist where she was mere seconds before.

Seemed like this wasn't their first time with these things.

The other Survivors started firing a wall of lead into the Tank, backing up every time they needed to reload before letting out more gunfire at it. I did the same, almost directly above the Tank as it began charging into the alley like a gorilla.

A massive, bulletproof gorilla on steroids.

The hiss of a rocket made me back off as Kyle came up out of nowhere with an RPG and sent the projectile into the beast's back.

The explosion was almost impossible to look at as molten carbon burned through the Tank, barely missing the Survivors on the other side.

It seemed to freeze up for a couple seconds, staring blankly at the massive hole in its charred flesh, before falling forward and slamming into the ground. It's entire back was almost completely blackened, a good 60% of it burned and scattered around the alley.

"Holy SHIT!" Francis yelled, looking at Kyle like he was a childhood hero. "That was fucking AWESOME!"

"You guys alright?" I asked, slowly making my way down the fire escape. I gave myself a quick look-over before getting closer. Dark jeans, white T-shirt, red jacket, no blood on anything.

I guess I looked normal.

"Yeah, thanks for the help," Louis said. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Couple of weeks," Kyle lied, walking towards us.

"Bill, they gotta come with us," Louis said, Francis agreeing. "Hell yeah! You guys are freaking crazy!"

The old man sat there for a second, taking an extra long inhale of smoke from his cigarette, Francis and Louis watching like pleading puppy dogs.

"... Alright, you're coming with us."

Wait, what did Kyle and I just agree to?