Greg was given orders to go back to Union city, to contaminate the infected. It was good news to Greg, he is visiting home. Visiting his beloved mother was the first thought he had as he left the office, he smiled at the thought of hugging his mother. Three years he haven't seen her. Since he was promoted from first Lieutenant to Captain.

Deep in his heart he was sick worried, worried that she might have not endured this infection. Or that "Green leaf for elderly day care" was overrun with infected cannibals "Zombies". Greg took a deep breath and exhaled in worry. He was anxious yet scared, confused but determined. "She'll be fine relax" he reassured himself. Looking up to the clear blue skies he frowned, to the thought that he might not survive."My life doesn't count, its the people that matter" he said in determination. Pulled his car keys from his pocket and headed to his car in the parking lot. There it was his black jeep, his little darling so he called it.
The engine made a strong sound of roar as he started the car, it was hot inside, the leather made it hard to sit on the chair, "Oooh" Greg let out a moan as he held the driving wheel, he closed the driver's door shut and put on his sun glasses.

Shifting the gear from "P" to "R" he noticed a figure standing at the back of the car, he honked but no response came back, he honked again, yet no response. "Sir are you F***ing deaf?!" Greg yelled as he opened the door to confront whoever stood there when suddenly the man growled loudly and ran towards Greg. Greg knew then what "it" was, he shut the door quickly and pulled his gun from the storage compartment, the zombie was already on his window, drooling. trying to get in, trying to take a bite. Greg's heart started to pound really hard and fast. He opened the window a bit, aimed his gun to the fore head and bam! The zombie dropped dead.

Greg opened the door, only to find out that this zombie was one of their soldiers, thats how he probably got in this secured military facility. "Damn..he looks young." Greg thought as he closed the door and started his log ride..to Union city.

Union Stadium
Blood. Death. Murder. Innocent lives. Gone. The grass in the stadium turned from a bright green to a deep, crimson red. His comrades were gone; dead, or out of the stadium. Communication was down. H.E.R.C. bailed out of this hellhole. The whole world had gone to shit, and Brandon was in the middle of it.

1 Mile West of Union Stadium
Dry grass crunched under his feet as he walked. Images were bolting through his head. His wife, daughter, parents. He could see them now. See them as those things walking in the streets, corrupting and stealing the lives of others. He could even here them, now as he walked. Shit! He could actually here them! He cleared his mind and looked at the road ahead. There it was. A civilian, stomach ripped open, with its ribs showing. He sprinted up to it and put a hand on its shoulder, as to keep it back, then put his Combat Knife through its skull, and out. He then proceeded to loot the body. A lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, unopened. He cut through the plastic wrapping, lit one, and started to smoke. Looking of into the distance, hoping for something, anything, to make this better.

"Who the hell are you?", Horus shouted to the soldier currently looting the gutted civilian, his voice as rough as gravel. He stood within an alleyway born between two busted buildings, the dark corridor littered with zombie bodies. He had apparently been camping there since the end of the Union Staduim's failure.
Horus had been positioned into the Union Staduim the previous night, with the mission's profile being dropped the following dawn. Being hidden under a pile of cracked concrete and metal support rubble, Horus had only escaped once all his comrades had either died or scattered. He escaped only by the makeshift exits created by the last resort bombing of the oversized staduim.

"Didn't you hear me boy? Who are you?!", Horus threatened, his gun held high and primed. To him, this wasn't just a bluff. It never was. He was a stone-cold killer at heart, and always suspicious. Horus never knew who to trust, and it always was just easier to take out the uncertain factor in any equation.

1 Mile West of Union Stadium
"Jesus Christ! Yes I hear you!" He glanced back. He had already known it was Horace. With his cracked, dry, dismantled voice. "Horace it's me Brandon, Bramdon Kent. We were stationed in Union Stadium. And yes I saw what you did. You shot Robertson. You always had a grudge on him, and now you did it. You made look like a stray bullet, but I knew, I knew it was you." Brandon now turned around slowly, facing Horace, "You're a killer!"

The road was red, blood red. Dead people walking by the street as Greg drove his jeep to union city. It wasn't far, just a few miles ahead and he is in union city.
He reached his destination at dawn, "Green leaf for elderly daycare"..as he feared, it was overrun with those horrid things. Dead walking and dead crawling. Greg was devastated, horrified, he was sad.. he thought about stepping out of his vehicle, but it would cost him his life. A few zombies crawled to the car, a bunch walked to it. He cried as he bumped his forehead on the steering wheel. Their sounds, their growls.. it ate him from inside. Couldn't help but make him think about how his mother suffered from this horrible creatures.

"I should be heading to the stadium" he thought. What once was a beautiful, peaceful, quaint place is now a living hell, with the dead roaming free. There were screams all around. He couldn't help anyone with the hordes on the street.

The stadium was a couple of footsteps ahead. He parked his car in a parking lot in front of an abandoned clinic. Before stepping out he scanned the area around his car, it was clear to go. He grabbed his machete and crimson combat knife and sheathed them in. His 9mm hand gun tucked between his back and pants. Opened the back door and reached for his M16, grabbing a box of ammunition and his backpack along with the M19

He walked to the entrance of the stadium, only to find out it is overrun with zombies, blood all over the place. He halted for a moment not knowing what to do next.

The stadium had fallen and his men were scattered, broken, and more than likely, turned into those wretched ghouls that walk the streets. Carter had barely escaped the over-run sports center with his life, refusing to evacuate without his family. He slowly scouted every room, throwing things to distract the undead and remain unseen. Though there was no trace of his wife and son. That was good at least. They certainly would have been found if they were turned. The old soldier finally left the stadium, though before he could get too far, he heard a jeep pull up. The colonel muttered a soft, "Shit..." under his breath, remembering a few pieces of paperwork he'd signed. "We were supposed to get some more men today..." With a soft groan, he twisted around and ran back to the stadium, unfolding the entrenching tool on his belt as he went.

Carter came upon the stunned captain and crept up within earshot of a whisper. "We were compromised... Unless you feel like dying today soldier, I suggest we get the hell out of here. That motor's gonna draw every last one of those freaks for about five blocks." He glanced around nervously and clutched the bladed shovel in his hand as he waited for the other's reply. His MP-5 hung on a 3 point sling resting on his right side, and his M9 was in a small holster attached to the chest of his IBA.

"Heh, your as judgmental as ever Brandon. Nice to see ya'", Horus muttered in a more welcoming, yet unexpected, tone. He had been called a killer multiple times before, and this time wasn't any different. He wouldn't testify against murdering Robertson, but he wouldn't confess, either.
Coming down from his hiding place in the alley, Horus strolled next to Brandon, his expression hidden by a rusted mask. "I heard a jeep go up the way, near the staduim. Probably some ignorant reinforcements. The sooner we catch up, the better chance we have.", Horus exclaimed. He didn't like the thought of teammates, but it was a deciding factor all the same. Horus' feet pounded on the cracked, blood-coated ground as he marched towards the staduim, waiting for Brandon to do the same. "I might've shot Robertson in the back, but now there's barely anyone to shoot. I gotta keep people for once, that make you feel any better?", he said, trying to keep Brandon's fiery temper off the trigger.

Greg was on his knees,helpless,hopeless and shocked on so many levels. The stadium was supposed to be the last resort, castle fort but no it was plagued with the dead. Hope was gone, its a word Greg isn't familiar with at that moment. No use of living now he thought as he dropped dead inside himself. All he wanted to do is to lay back on the wet sticky red gravel, waiting to die.

When suddenly he heard a quite footsteps approaching at his back. He didn't bother to look, he didn't care. He shut his eyes and tried to remember the clear beautiful sky he lied his gaze upon earlier today. He smiled in fear "take me" he whispered. He waited for a brief moment but nothing happened but a mere whisper he heard "We were compromised... Unless you feel like dying today soldier, I suggest we get the hell out of here. That motor's gonna draw every last one of those freaks for about five blocks." Greg's heart pounded hard suddenly when he heard a man's voice. He abruptly stood up as he twisted around..it was no Human flesh eating monster, he was a colonel. Greg smiled and gave a slight whimper. "Yes we better get out of here." Greg agreed. Looking around him, scanning the area, "We can't use the jeep, it's nearly out of fuel. We wont reach far. Best to use it as a decoy to keep those horrid things away from our path." Greg notified the colonel. "I am CPT.Greg white by the way." Greg introduced him self. "Shall we get going?"

Edoric watched as the Stadium when to hell. Undead crowed the feild, feasting on those who could protect themselve. Fortunately for Edoric, he wasn't one of those poor sods. He had a plan to get out alive.

With nail board stowed away safely, he pulled out his trusty Death Adder and dash towards the restroom. He had a good knowledge of the city's sewer system due to his job at Union Waterworks, one of the larger tunnels was running under the massive sports complex. He dashed past those who were fighting, those who were dying, those who were being eaten and those who refused to stay dead. A few good shots cleared the path as he pushed into the enterance to the maintaince room.

"Freedo-", Edoric's voice dropped as he opened the heavy door to reveal a welcoming party of zombies. He stared at them and they stared back, both sides equally confused as if Edoric was a police officer busting into a semi-legal teenager party, "Umm... Hello gents..."

A few minutes later

"AAAHHHHHHAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Edoric barrelled down the street with a growing mob of undead, angrey he busted their party, chasing him. Whatever small group was in the maintence room had cleared out and set their sights on a running long coat with a gun. Face covered in sweat, Edoric blindly fired off his gun as he dashed, he probably hit something. Weither that was a zombie or a street pole was unknwon however.

Continue his mad dash through streets and such, he guessed some of the horde had gotten lost or found some other tasty morsel to bite. Their numbers were still too great for him to take on alone. He despirtly tried to think of a plan, but he didn't have anything to build with nor enough time to make something as he rounded a corner which he spotted his solution. What appeared to be two men, still uninfected standing out.

"Help!" Edoric waved his hands as if he hoped he'd start flying (part of him wished he could), "Help me! Please!"

At this point, Edoric hoped that the two weren't bandits and shot him on sight. Even if they were, at least a bullet to his smart little head would be a quicker death and becoming a Thanksgiving turkey.

"Oh sh*t.", Horus grumbled, taking the sight of the fleeing civilian as an ominous message. Firing on the vanguard of the zombie advancement, which soon appeared behind the frantic bystander. He shot the torsos of most of the undead ranks before retreating himself. Horus bolted east into the city, left of the Staduim's direction, and away from the necrotic hoard. He only bothered to push Brandon in front of him and to continuously shoot, totally forgetting about the doomed Edoric. Weaving skillfully through alleys and broken roads, Horus came to the sealed entrance of a motel, the door boarded shut from the inside, same for the windows. Equipping his handy crowbar (which he had nicknamed 'Womanizer', for unknown reasons), Horus tore into the termite infested mahogany door, breaking a hole big enough for the soldiers to crawl through. "Come on! We gotta board it back up anyways, ASAP!", Horus snapped, crawling through the makeshift entrance and pulling Brandon with him. Horus maintained fire at the zombies through the partially sealed windows of the establishment, the desperate man who had brought this grand hoard onto them being the last to enter the motel before Horus finally sealed the door up again. Luckily, no zombies came through, "Yet...", Horus continued. "Well, Mister, what do you got to say for yourself?", Horus addressed the compainion that had joined them, obviously giving him a hard time.

Edoric gave a classic Wilhelm scream as he was pulled through the tiny hole. Picking out splinters from his pants, he looked at the man with the metal mask, "Umm... Umm... Thank you?"

He knew that "thank you" probably wasn't what the man had in mind, but it was polite anyways. Grandma always said politness counted. He threw his hands up as a sign that he wasn't up to anything funny, hopefully the gentlemen wouldn't use it as an excuse to shoot him. His eyes scanned the room and the two men before he took notice at the masked man's armor. He tilted his head side ways as his imagination already went to work on how to copy it and maybe upgrade it a little.

"Do you have any extra material for the armor you're wearing? I think I have an idea on some neat little things you can do to improve it."

Again, not exactly social etiquette or grace, but Edoric couldn't help himself. He just had to tinker around with it.

A multiple gunshots echoed from a distant area. "Survivors!" Greg cried. He shifted his body and tilted his head until he was able to locate the origin of the gunshots, "to the north" he whispered as he pulled his map from the side-pocket of his backpack. Quickly he located the destination of the area the gunshots came from. There. "We should Head there Colonel! They may be still alive." Greg said.

As he walked to the destined area, he looked over his shoulder to make sure the colonel is keeping up and well, and he was. When they reached the block, there was massive horde on the motel doorsteps. They were trying to get in. Loud growls and screams came from that horrifying horde. Greg gave a sign to the colonel to keep quiet, and halt. He sat on the side walk trying to avoid the horde's attention.

There was only one reason for that horrid view. Stranded survivors, "there must be people inside that motel..Carter." he whispered. Pausing and scanning the area, clear. "We've got to find a way in. Perhaps the backdoor?" Greg wondered.

With a smile and a single nod, Carter gave him a half hearted salute and folded his E-tool before placing it back in the pouch on his belt. He sighed, looking around at the stragglers for a moment before his hand dipped into the right cargo pocket of his uniform. He pulled out the reel of paracord he had and quickly cut off a long section. He stepped toward the humvee, picked up one of the many scattered bits of rubble and opened the jeep door. As he bent down to tie the brick to the gas pedal, he snickered quietly. "Let's see how far we can get a ghost to drive..." When that was done, the man stood and reached out to release the brakes before he turned the ignition switch and quickly backed up. The vehicle jumped to life, revving itself for a moment before it took off down the road, driverless.

As he watched it go, the colonel sighed. "Too bad it didn't have a fifty on it... Woulda been nice..." Carter turned back to the captain and flipped his E-tool out with practiced precision when the other shouted about the gunshots. He grinned and nodded when the other suggested they attempt a rescue, following behind him. If it were his own choice, they'd have taken the alleys. A little slower, but it kept them out of sight. He crouched behind his subordinate, scanning the area for himself. "The back might be best..." He said, wishing the runaway jeep had done something useful. "Let's just hope it's unlocked... Or we can find a fire escape if there's many around the rear."

Motel
"Get your gad damn hands of of me Horace!" He swiped Horace's hands of of his collar. Brandon was usually cheerful, but with Horace around, there was no way that was gonna happen. He now turned to the man in the coat. "Hey there. I'm Brandon, this is, Horace," he said in a more severe tone. "Let's loot this hellhole while we still can." Brandon then proceeded to the rooms. He looted one and found canned beans, Scotch, and a revolver, fully loaded, six bullets. He took a swig of the scotch. Scotch. Alcohol. Lighter. "Horace finish looting get ready to bail!" He could perfectly well use this on Horace, but there was another person as well and they had to get to safety.

"Fine. You loot too, kid.", Horus said to Edoric, dismissing his question and heading over to the abandoned concierge desk. Busting the drawers open, Horus was able to retrieve metal room keys, phone numbers scribbled on stained paper, a bag of discarded trail mix, and a cigar. Lighting the cigar with the matches in his pocket, Horus smoked his worries away, allowing the disturbed Brandon a moment to get drunk and for Edoric to do whatever the hell he wanted. Yet, his mind was gnawed at by an unending worry. His 6th sense felt something otherworldly, almost omnipotent. 'There's someone outside...', he thought, crouching by the back door. 'Their most likely coming through the back.', Horus figured, drawing his Combat Knife and preparing his offense.

"If it's locked we'll unlock it with that E-tool of yours, it's very useful." Greg whispered. "The fire escape?" He wondered. We should probably check the backdoor first, it might be open. Greg tilted his body and faced Carter, "lets say there are a couple of them at the back.. do you think we could take'em out?" He asked in a shaky voice. Greg was still scared of those "things". The melted flesh. The dropping blood, Drooling all over, not to mention the scary growls the made. It was grossome, disgusting on so many levels. But to think they were once humans..

Greg unsheathed his machete and crimson combat knife, propping it on his lap, showing it to Carter. "best to use melee weapons, we don't want to make any noise, gotta stay silent" Greg said. He checked the motel's front doors again, the horde was still there. Greg noticed some zombies eking out from alleys and some hidden spots. "Their number is growing by the minute! We better hurry Carter!" Cried Greg in a low soft sound. "We better get moving! Lead the way." Greg ordered.

Carter chuckled softly at the young captain, twisting the shovel in his hand. "yes, we could very well 'unlock' it with this, but... I'd like to avoid the crash, but yes... The two of us should be able to kill quite a few with melee provided they're spaced out..." He looked back toward the motel when Greg did, nodding with acknowledgement as the horde slowly grew. "Yes, yes... They're making quite the ruckus aren't they?"

When the other gave his advice and told Carter to lead the way, he couldn't help but snicker at it. He was taking command... Very admirable, and he was being smart. The colonel laid a hand on Greg's shoulder and gave him a weak smile, hoping to steel the officer's shakiness. "I've been dealing with these beasts longer than you have... I know my way around them, and... Relax. We're in a bad spot, but when it's your time to go, it's your time to go... But I'm sure we'll both be making sure you get out of this alive. Keep your head, stay calm, and do your best not to panic. That's what gets men like us killed more than anything else." With an encouraging smile, he took a deep breath and advanced toward the motel, using parked cars and whatever cover he could find to make it behind the motel.

With no immediate response coming from the door, Horus set aside his worries and smoked his cigar once again. "Just in case...", Horus self-commented, sticking his hand through the gaps in the back-door's boards and carving a serial number into the front of the corroding wood. Though a little hard to understand, the message came ultimately out as '4137', the identification numeral of Horus's battalion before the Union Staduim incident.
Firing a few more shots into the swarming zombies tearing at the front of the Motel, whom's destructive progress was proceeding rather slowly, Horus strolled back over to the concierge's desk. "Oooo... What a pretty you are...", Horus commented, looking at a usable replica of a confederate cavalry spear displayed prominently on the mantel of the small office. Taking it down, Horus distributed thrusts against the zombies hopelessly punching at the window, the attacks too quick for the ghouls to grasp the weapon before it was pulled back once again. "I'm keeping you...", Horus said lovingly to the weapon before looting more of the knickknacks hidden within the lobby.

In all, Horus found;

• Calvary Lance; Long range spear
• Copper Wiring; Salvaged from a broken lamp.
• Complimentary Water Bottles; More Rations, More of a Chance.

Chuckling slightly, Horus climbed the creaking stairs up to the second level of the Motel, Shooting the head of a rogue zombie clean off it's shoulders as he did.

Words of encouragement came from Carter, it was helpful. Before heading off to the back of the motel, Greg stopped carter for a brief moment "Thanks for the pep talk colonel" he thanked carter as he nodded at him to let him know he is ready. And he was, with such encouraging words. He sheathed his crimson combat knife, and kept his machete in hand as they rushed to the motel in stealth.

When they reached the last spot in the parking lot, there was a small sports car, they stood behind it in effort to stay hidden and unnoticed. Greg checked the rear side of the motel, there were a couple of those things walking aimlessly in the area. "We can take'em down" whispered Greg to Carter in a harsh serious sound. Looking back, Greg sighed in fear, once again he was uncertain and shaky, but gave Carter no signs about it. Suddenly another multiple shots were heard from the motel.

"They are still alive! lets go!" Greg cried. He directed their path, when they reached the rear side. Two zombies noticed them, as they approached Greg sliced through one of the zombies neck, its head dropped giving a disturbing sound of its skull cracking. Carter killed the other, they both made their path clear through to the back door. Greg shifted his gaze to carter and nodded. Greg thought if there are humans in there why not knock!?

Greg knocked the door and yelled "Anyone in there? We came to help..we heard the gunshots so we figured someone is alive! Open up quickly!".

Though Greg dispatched of the stragglers with relative ease, he sighed with exasperation when he knocked on the door and asked for entry like someone in major need of the bathroom. "We reached our destination quietly and safely. But if they're firing, they're still fighting... And we can't keep our heads down while men who depend on us are at risk now can we? we've got no time to dick around waiting for them to answer a knock." The colonel said sternly, though there was no hostility in his tone. "Hostiles are going to be coming from all sides, we need to get in there and get them out now." The colonel finished as he sheathed his entrenching tool. He drew his pistol from the holster on his chest and fired three quick rounds into the door and lock assembly. With practiced precision, he brought his foot up and slammed it against the door just under the bullet-holes. With a sharp crack, and the soft whine of thin twisting metal the door flew open.

"This is combat now soldier, we get our men and get the fuck out." Carter exclaimed as he moved into the building, pistol raised. The first room was void of undead. Rows of washing machines and several baskets of forgotten clothing and laundry supplies were all that the room had to offer. With a single wave of his left hand, Carter gestured for Greg to follow, never lowering his weapon. "Clear. Let's move." Expecting Greg to follow suit and cover his rear, he didn't bother looking back at the captain unless the other had something to say or made a worrying sound. The colonel started into the hallway, slowly making his way toward the front lobby where the gun shots seemed to originate. As he searched, the officer spoke aloud, hoping anyone within ear shot would come to them. "This is colonel carter of the U.S. Military. We heard your gunshots and we've come to get you out of here. This place is going to be swarming with those things within a matter of minutes, we NEED to get out of here."