A pebble sailed through the air like a bullet, nailing against the rotten head of a shambling zombie. As it twitched and groaned, dully turning it's now fluid-leaking skull around, a red and black blur dashed from the shadows underneath a large, precariously hanging AC unit embedded into the wall, a booted foot brutally nailing the zombie right in the face. "Grah!" The walker groaned feebly, blasting back onto the ground, where it skidded a few steps. Before it could shamble up, the same dark brown, hard-soled boot slammed ruthlessly into it's face. Once. Twice. Three times. In only a second, it was a smear of bloody paste on dirty cobblestone, brain matter falling from the boot's grimy surface. The figure straightened, glancing around once with dark eyes. He was a tall man, obviously not from Japanese origins, with short black hair and a long, worn, open black and crimson coat, along with a dirt-stained gray tanktop, torn, ragged jeans, and hard-soled boots. He was currently located in a random dirty alleyway, after climbing down from the roof. Where was he, even? In Tokyo? Was he even still in Japan? A quick glance down at the yakuta-wearing zombie corpse answered his mental questions.
"Gross." He growled underneath his breath, sliding up to the alley's cobblestone wall and slowly slinking towards the alley's exits. A quick glance out showed that the roads were filled with fleeting, shambling undead, and Jason quickly moved his head back into the alleyway, his grimace turning into an outright scowl as he adjusted the black duffelbag on his back. Quickly scrounging through the pockets, the young man smirked victoriously as he withdrew what seemed to be a small, nonlethal stick of firework dynamite, labeled 'Black Cat'. A common thing back in America, but exceedingly rare in Japan, it seemed. Good thing he stole a lot back in Mississippi. Licking his right, calloused thumb, Jason quickly pinched the fuse between his middle-finger in thumb, silently slamming the fuse and digits against the wall against his back. His fingernail scraped along with the trio, and the 'courier' grinned as the fuse promptly lit from the friction.
Sneaking forward, he let loose the Black Cat, watching as it sailed into his destination - a broken car a few dozen feet away. The firework exploded promptly, causing a small trail of smoke to leave the windows of the car with a giant 'bang', while the actual car alarm began blaring out it's annoying ringing. The distraction worked, however. All the zombies within the vicinity began making a clumsy dash for the ringing car, and as a zombie got too close to his spot, Jason moved quickly, slamming his elbow into it's face before swinging around and slamming it face-first into the wall, painting the cobble red and gray. Without pausing, he kept low to the ground, dashing away from the street as if the Devil himself was after him. First thing first...get the Hell out of the city, and get to higher-ground. Maybe find some food. Man, did he want tacos.
___________________________________
"Fucking little house on the prairie."
Jason dutifully climbed the hill, eyes zeroing in on the quaint house up above. His breath came out in short bursts, and his eyes were glaring and focused as he finally broke the distance and leaped up on top of the grassy knoll. Breathing in deeply, he unsheathed his machete and rested it against the shoulder of his coat, walking forward confidently. At this point, he didn't give a shit if he died from some hostile fucker with a shotgun - if he, for some reason, managed to hide from the Japanese Nazis. Knocking quietly on the door - didn't want any zombies, after all, Jason put on his best grin - which came out more as a smirk, honestly.
"Yo...eh, Japanese-san-chan. Starving hermit out here." He didn't know much about honorifics, and he didn't really give a shit. Hopefully they didn't, either.