𝘎𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨

For a man like Bruno, it was simply another day in the Z-pocalypse: stay in the shadows, murder where you must, obtain what you must, and then vanish into thin air. Then do it again.

He didn't require much, and with little to nothing, he could get by. Although Bruno was not perfect by any means and was well aware of it, he had significantly honed his skills as a charming, laid-back, confident, calculated, and natural hustler over the years.

What had started as any other day in the Z-pocalypse quickly turned into something slightly different from the rest. Bruno had his hands inside an apex variant, also known as the "crusher," his already dirty hands squishing and digging around inside its intestinal organs to find the perfect one he needed for the job he was about to do. He was going to take down the strongest apex he'd encountered before. He just needed a few disgusting ingredients to do the job. After carefully tugging and pulling at a few organs, ripping slippery parts out, and grabbing everything he needed, he knelt up from the position with relief.

"It's nothin' personal, friend, but I kinda need this," he said in a lighthearted tone, flipping the body back over quickly before going over to his workbench and putting together a few of his favorite bombs and Molotovs.

He'd made his way to Venice Beach, bustling around a few of the shops he'd now made his primary focus, getting everything he needed to continue his grind. He would not let some Apex stop him from getting to where he needed to be.

He assembled the remaining bombs with his goal in mind and put them in his carry-over bag. He could see outlets on both the boardwalk to his right and the now deserted shambles of a beach to his left, littered with skeletons and half-ragged bodies that would return to life if he ventured even remotely close to them.

He moved cautiously so as not to draw the attention of the nearby zombies as he made his way to a checkpoint location at the end of the Venice boardwalk, awaiting turnstile gates nearby that he would have to get through later.

He squatted down near the scattered suitcases and dispersed the assortment of stuff as he turned the corner of the table and observed, sliding his leg forward just a little to anchor himself carefully and get a slightly better view around it, taking mental note of his target and its movement patterns before wasting no time to sling a sticky bomb at it, followed by a nail bomb for a nasty double effect.

His gaze was confident as the mutated monster reacted and fell back from the damage before getting up and wildly beginning to sprint towards him in animalistic rage, its cry piercing as he drummed into his chest, one he ignored as he let it come right to him.

Bruno sucked in a breath of the stale, dead air while checking his vantage point, making sure no zombies were right behind him from the now apparent noise made as it impacted the ground around them.

Bruno dashed back, nearly staggering as his bag caught wind with his swift dodges, the now swiping and aimed stabs of a ferocious butcher seeking to bleed him out with its bone-driven jabs. He unsheathed his machete from his shoulder and delivered swiftly and brutally an agonizingly fast chop.

The butcher's arm fell to the ground as he struggled, its blood flowing and pouring down the side of his body. He immediately began attacking again without recognizing that his arm was now severed and that the zombies were starting to limp toward their stalemate. The butcher nearly sliced Bruno's shoulder with his other unnaturally sharp, steadfastly mutating, and growing appendage before swinging at Bruno repeatedly.

Bruno knew better than to attack again outright; he had to wait. Be swift, dodge, and let him come to you. He'd seen these in action before but never faced one firsthand, purely out of ignorance about how to approach them. But he'd been watching how they operate, and he had a good idea of how to take them down now; in his mind, he was just lucky he hadn't had to face one until now.

And just as he narrowed his eyes to get ready to slice at the beast again, a loud yell caught both the butcher and Bruno off guard, neither sure where it came from. Bruno couldn't pay attention to it now; he had the most vicious apex still trying to lunge at him with everything it had until Bruno sized him up after he took several intense swings and stabs in his direction, just inches away from slicing his shirt open and cutting into his form.

Bruno still heard the voice calling out; he wasn't even sure what the person was saying over the pounding of his ears and adrenaline shooting through his body. With enthusiasm and a quick jump back, he reacted in a jolt and jump-kicked his opponent, delivering a blowback kick to the creature's legs, knocking it from beneath itself and causing it to fall, machete in his hand still.

Once he realized the machete wouldn't be the right tool for him, he momentarily let it fall behind him and instead didn't hesitate to choose another weapon for the job as he swiftly grabbed his heavy-duty hammer out from his waistband, leaned forward, and clawed down numerously and angrily on the butcher's skull with a deep growl that turned into more of a wail as time went on, not even aware of how he seemed or how loud he became from his usual well-controlled and calculated persona.

Soon, a red hue slowly formed and crept darker into his vision. When this is happening, he lets out a sharp cry as he feels a tearing and popping feeling digging its way into his body, into his skin, against his bones and muscles, as the invisible fire slowly crept across every inch of his body, an unfathomable shakiness controlling his now trembling and soon after, convulsing body.

His heart could feel the strain, and his throat began to close up while his skin began to boil around his flesh. He couldn't think, but he had to ignore this as best he could with his almost uncontrollable hands. He held his stomach, feeling like he could throw up from the inescapable, nerve-frying pain he was feeling.

When his legs were a bit more stable, he could only drive the back of his hammer deeper into its skull again through already exhausted, labored breaths. Still, he did more than the last, and within seconds, he didn't feel his hands anymore. The once ugly apex had its brains mashed into goop, and whatever made him even faintly recognizable was now beyond unrecognizable.

Bruno's fists tightened around the claw hammer until he saw its skull come apart in uneven quarters from the savage hammering, piling repeatedly to ensure the thing stopped moving.

It has to stop moving..

Once he wiped the hammer off with the black ruffled rag that fell out a little from his back pocket, he couldn't waste time sticking around now as his legs traversed suddenly faster than his mind, assessing the area as he sped by and dipping into a corner and into the alleyway between stores to evade any of the unstable zombies close by, not even breathing for a few moments as he pressed his back tightly against the wall behind the outlets and away from lingering zeds.

His eyes felt strained, and his heart was still wildly pounding in sync with the pulsing beneath his skin, feeling like electricity was trickling all across his nerve endings while his eyes darted around the area. This time of day allowed the sun to shine in opposition to where he was now, as he still propped against the back of the wall.

After calming down for a minute and muttering a few words to himself to get going again, he began to notice his body and how it felt abnormally hot, like something had invaded his body and mind. His thought process periodically garbled the words in his mind to the point he couldn't process the area around him like he usually would have until a wave of vomit spewed from him and along the ground.

His shaking palms pressed against the wall, sweat rolling off his face as he pushed away from it with a scoff, tightly holding himself up and off the wall, his hands meeting his concerned expression as he tried to focus.

Once Bruno saw no zombies, he wiped his face clean with the old rag from his bag. He gargled the last bit of mouthwash he'd left before collecting himself and heading back to wherever the sun cast shadows, wherever he could maneuver without a sound, as he was too weak to risk breaking cover now.

After about 20 agonizingly slow minutes of meticulous maneuvering, he spotted a condo he could potentially stay in along the coast, a hidden little grassy area buried into the corner of the beach. If there weren't anything in there to surprise him, he would be okay. At this point, he wasn't sure he could handle it now, given that he barely managed to maintain his balance for much longer.

But he made his way soon after the sun began to set and the horizon began to glow across the water. By this time, he could safely creep around, slip into the grass, and camouflage himself to quickly make his way inside and see what he'd gotten himself into. Bruno scouted around the house before making his way to the apparent entry, ensuring no zeds were walking about from what he could make out and listen for.

And after about 10 minutes of listening, watching, and waiting, he decided to take the back door and slip inside without a sound, or so he'd thought, until the door creaked just a little as he finally shut it closed behind him, stepping in a little, only to hear the familiar sound of a shotgun cocking in another room of the condo while he froze in place, awaiting the sound of the person's warning.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm friendly! Don't shoot, okay?" He paused to listen a second before continuing.

"I'm not a weirdo or anything like that; I thought this place was abandoned...That's all. Okay, friend?" He spoke in an assuring but dry tone.

The man still stood in place, feeling like it wouldn't be wise to move until he knew the intentions of the other being. He was too tired to fight someone outright; he couldn't even outthink someone.

But he had to think...

But he heard footsteps walking into the living room quickly before he could. His eyes were heavy and unmoving as he grew weaker, his vision blurring out, and whatever noises he could hear now began to silence all around him, ringing his head. His hands held his face for a moment as he couldn't believe how he was feeling, not understanding what was happening inside of him, and for a second, he thought he saw what he could make out to be a woman. But he really couldn't tell.

It couldn't be...

Nobody stayed in Venice; it was a death trap. There was nothing left, no hope, nothing to look for. But before the mirage of a woman could speak, Bruno couldn't help but grab onto the counter and slump onto the floor with whatever mustered energy he had left, the stranger waving both hands in front of his face to make him look at them. But the muffling of his ears drowned them out, and the room became nothing but a rapidly growing blackness that invaded his sight as he passed out unconscious before the stranger.