The wind could be heard howling down the streets as various bits of litter and dried leaves scraped across the brick buildings and asphalt roads during the otherwise silent night. On occasion the sound of something guttural would howl across the city, and only tighten the paranoid grip on the city. The blockades stood strong as ever. Snipers, tanks, guards with automatic rifles, the works. Most buildings were boarded up, or abandoned. Shops with smashed windows and looted shelves were a common sight. But most houses were still intact, yet usually barricaded in some way, and the sound of radio stations relaying news or music could faintly be heard. The night was quiet. And the silence was deafening.

Monica sat in the abandoned building, waiting for the other three to return. They usually were back by now, and Monica was beginning to worry. She had mostly stayed indoors, and hadn't seen anybody else besides her co-workers. Her main job was to keep track of supplies, ammunition, and anything else they might find. Monica sat behind a shelf near the entrance, a tight grip on a knife they had found, listening for anything. Footsteps, growls, scraping sounds, chanting, anything. After a few tense moments, Monica went to the radio, and listened for any new information. Nothing. All there was, was the same old news. Board up your doors. Apologies for the situations, and the same music stations, playing music like this wasn't happening. Then again, to them it wasn't. It was just a regular day for them, while the residents of Champaign lived in constant terror. After a few brief moments with the radio, Monica walked back to he position behind the shelf, listening once more.

There was another distant sound of a gunshot going off, the crack echoing into the otherwise silent night. John listened carefully for a second shot but heard none, just the deadening quiet of the evening.

"Suicide, probably" John muttered under his breath, trying to not let his mind wander to the other possibilities. It sounded like it came from about 2 or 3 streets away, over on the other side of the neighborhood. It could have even been an accidental shot, what with everyone's nerves being on edge with the recent blockade. Or it could be the shooter killed an intruder. Or the intruder could have shot the resident. Or the Shooter was defending his home and never got chance to fire a second shot.

John shook his head quickly, trying to dislodge the nagging anxieties in his head. He had been at home now for two days and despite his abject fear at what might be outside he was getting anxious to just go and find out. His mother was asleep now, but had spent the entire day trying to make cookies for him but not quite realizing that they had no flour left. When she had occasionally realized this she had tried to leave the house to go the local store to buy more flour which John knew was looted, and he had to gently force her back away from the door and occupy her with something else. He was used to caring for his Mother's dementia, but what with the chaos outside she was steadily becoming more of a liability.

John glanced at the clock once more before taking another sip of warm beer. It was getting late and almost time to turn in for the day. There was nothing to stay up for as all the tv was picking up was an emergency channel and the radio was passing warnings to stay indoors and not much else. It was as if his tv and radio just weren't picking up anything other than emergency news channels.

He stood up, brushing off the crumbs from supper off his jacket. That's when he heard the porch floorboard creak outside the front door. He froze in mid step, glancing towards the shotgun that was only 2 meters away leaning against the sofa and feeling like it was a world away. The porch creaked several times more. There was more than one person outside.

That's when the shots fired through the door.

At the tender age of 19, Gabriel should have been drafted to join the war, though thankfully for him, it was nearing a close when he came of age. Instead, he was sent to do missionary work along with the other Mormons of his age, and that was how he ended up in Champaign, just before the start of all the... everything. Having never held a weapon, Gabriel cowered underneath furniture, ducking beneath rubble in hopes nothing caught him. He wasn't exactly sure what was out and about. In fact, he had never seen it. The people around though certainly acted like something was happening.

Gabriel had clutched several copies of his bible, some taken from the body of his late friend, killed by one of the whatevers that he didn't catch sight of because really, how could he know what one of them looked like? On top of that, bandits and looters which may or may not have actually been present before the whole happening, though the police raids and such following the lock down was certainly not something Gabriel was waiting for.

At that moment, he was holed up inside a hospital. He wasn't in there originally. In fact, he had leapt from one building to that one, doing a spin, the athleticism his dance training provided being a great asset as he climbed into an open window. Stealing was definitely not something Gabriel had the heart to do, though if nobody was inside, he reasoned that would simply be scavenging. After all, he was hungry and who knew when he would need first aid, not that he would be able to provide it to himself given circumstances.

Parkland College!

What had Doctor Basil T. Cunningsworth, esteemed professor, done to deserve this? Here he was, the darling of higher education in Great Britain, the point of reference for all matters academical, and he was reduced to educating a motley band of baseball obsessed reprobates on the finer points of applying pencil to paper! Pah! Community college! One would receive better education at an Australian car wash!

"Now see, if you'll observe the application of light to the clear... I SAID GOOD DAY!" Professor Cunningsworth suddenly bellowed towards the braying, bothersome brutes brawling boisterously beyond his classroom door! Bollocks! Honestly the standards of students had dropped sharply ever since the local authorities had instructed him to stay inside! How dare they! Professor Cunningsworth was a man of SCIENCE! A man of ADVENTURE! In fact the only reason he hadn't gone outside to give the constables what-for was his students dogpiling him! On one hand, he had been furious! Furious! One never stands between a gentleman and a goal! On the other, it gave him the first inkling of hope and faith for the minds of Americans. Wanting him to teach them further! Why of course he would do so! Of course he was proven wrong almost immediately, but by then his door had been locked. LOCKED.

With that ghastly matter now attended to, he turned back to his shambles of a classroom, resembling more of a small fort than an esteemed establishment of effective education. "Now now, come out from under your desks, students!" he instructed most soothingly as only an elderly gentleman could. "Refraction, contrary to popular opinion, is not terrifying!"

There was a quiet whimper from under one of the desks.

"Nonsense, Stibbons," said Professor Cunningsworth to the whimper, who's name was in fact Harold. Good, British name, that Harold. Unfortunately he carried the potential of all other Americans. That is, none. "It is merely the application of light to a clear surface in a manner that causes the light to bend! How remarkable! The light, in fact, bends more than the principal of Oxford, whom I daresay was something of a yardstick in his rigidity! I remember one occasion wherein I asked him for additional funding to the science lab as we were in dire, DIRE need of additional resources and he told me, if I were so desperate, I would pay for it myself! What pish posh! How dare he! I decided that in order to get my funding I would regale to him the tale of my time in the Swiss Alps, when I was skiing as any gentleman would and hit a rock..."

The banging on the door continued.

Certainly a military quarantine of a city which pinned all those damn sweathogs, freaks, jabronies and all those damn pie eatin' phonies together would drive men, who weren't bred in hard times, completely off the wall. But to those who were raised in the mean streets of Parts Unknown, knew how to please or rile a 'rat' or three, and those who knew that to be the man you had to beat the man, they knew that this swerve they were in was a window for unique opportunities.

And there were two men who were prepared and ready to market themselves and put many butts in many seats. Both knew that they still had work to do, who'd do the job would come closer to show-time, and that they weren't gonna get too many butts in seats if they were just cowering like so many of those damn posers out there.

On the grounds of Parkland College, around the scene of another particular incident occurring, there were two rather built and outlandish looking black individuals. One was currently standing on-top of a series of bricks that surrounded a small tree. This individual was Davis "The Candyman" Kane, Master of the Sweeet Science. He was a rather large man who definitely fell in super-heavy weightclass when it came to boxing, and had a tapestry of scars that showed off his education in the school of hard knocks. The most notable scars were the fact he had missing front teeth, several large gashes around his head and chest and around the arms. Currently this man was adorned in a pair of red and white striped boxing shorts, black wrestling boots, a pair of orange sunglasses alongside an open purple robe and loose fitting purple top hat and of course he had white boxing tape around his hands. Currently "The Candyman" was practicing some shadowboxing, bobbing around and practicing strikes.

It was known that Davis Kane was a working man, a man of the people. The promotion often would talk about how he was raised in the fields of Kentucky, and honing the Sweet Science from tussling in the barn with his Pappy, and punching the slabs of meat in the processing plant where his uncle worked. But there were things far more important than his training to the Candyman; the poor orphans of Kentucky. Davis knew that he was blessed with the opportunities he had, but he knew that there were many youths who didn't get the opportunities he had, and the Candyman was going to help out. But when the Ten Man Battle Royale Tournament came, there was a nefarious force that cheated and stole the money that he would've rightfully won for the children...

"BABY-" came blaring out from a boombox as another man began swaggering towards Davis.

"BABY LET'S GET TOGETHER!" Demetrius Flash's hips were integral to the swaggering gestures he was doing. Over his right shoulder was the boombox playing the funky tunes that Da Guru of Groove was bobbing his head along to. Davis Kane stopped the punching motions that he was doing and slowly lifted up his shades to allow his eyes to confirm that this man, this vile man was actually here.

All the while Da Guru of Groove did not seem to care at all about The Candyman, but instead had his entire attention focused on the music playing through his boombox.

"HONEY, HONEY ME AND YOU!
AND DO THE THINGS, OH, DO THE THINGS
THAT WE LIKE TO DO."

As Demetrius Flash got within striking distance he placed down the boombox and began to let the rhythm flow through him. He gyrated his hips in a rhythmic fashion before spinning his arms around each other then pointing off first to the right, then to the left.

"OH, DO A LITTLE DANCE, MAKE A LITTLE LOVE,
GET DOWN TONIGHT, GET DOWN TONIGHT!"

"OH DO A LI-"

Hopping down from the bricks surrounding the tree, Davis Kane slammed his hand down on the play button of the jukebox before coming nose to nose with Demetrius Flash. The Candyman was a bit taller than Demetrius Flash's actual height, but the judicious amount of afro still gave Da Guru of Groove the edge.

"Awwww hell naaw." Da Guru of Groove said with a snarl as he wiggled his right hand, showing off the bling as he moon-stepped a bit away from The Candyman. "You ain't supposed be here! I ran you outta this deadheap Taco Stand y'dig!" Demetrius Flash smirked as he flicked at his chest hair, a loose piece of it landed on his turquoise jumpsuit. Slowly and methodically Demetrius Flash waggled his fingers showing off his expensive jewelry around his fingers. "They're off the chain. Off the hook. Nurkin' good bling so I can be stylin' and profilin' even moah than ushe." Demetrius flash began laughing while Davis Kane exhaled a large amount of air from his nostrils and gave Da Guru of Groove a death stare.

"An' all it took, was beatin' yo Unka Tom ass in that Battle Royale! An oooh lemme guess what dem kiddies you fight for said." Demetrius Flash rubbed both of his hands under his eyes to mime some tears, "Wah!" he declared in a obnoxiously high pitch, "The Candyman Sweeeeeeet Sciiiiiiieeence lost to DA GROOVE!" Da Guru of Groove began laughing again at The Candyman, who had enough and marched back to being nose and nose with Demetrius Flash.

"See, I've been chattin' wit the Bossman and he don't think you won it fair and square." Said The Candyman causing Demetrius Flash groaned and glare at Davis Kane. The Candyman continued, "So he got us a lil One on One, where you can't pull no tricks foo! Tonight at the Parkland Planetarium!"

Davis Kane paused for a moment to let the fact that the two would be facing each other in a one on one match at the Parkland Planetarium sit in.

"SO COME WIT ME AN YOU'LL SEE A WORLD OF PURE PAIN SUCKA! YOU'LL BE TASTIN' THE SWEEEEEEEET SCIIIIIIEEEENCE AT THE PLANETARIUM! TONIGHT!" The Candyman boisterously declared as he pounded his chest.

Demetrius Flash shook his head before seemingly offering his hand out to Davis Kane to confirm the match. Davis reached out and, immediately got kicked in the shins. Davis sold the blow as Demetrius Flash began throwing some worked punches at him. Da Guru of Groove continued this until The Candyman began to gain his heroic wind and began throwing his own attacks.

Da Guru of Groove sold the blows while maneuvering towards his boombox, which he then swung at Davis Kane who immediately sold the blow enough to give Demetrius Flash a chance for a cowardly escape gained from this foreign object assault.

"You gonna go down tonight! Go down tooonight! PEACE!" Demetrius Flash bragged as he sped off towards the Planetarium so he could properly prepare for the show.

Monica sat and waited. It had been over three hours since the group was supposed to return. She assumed the worst. Suddenly, the sounds of rapid gunfire erupted from some somewhere close by. Looking through a nearby window, she saw figures erupting gunfire from an automatic rifle through the door of a house. Dear god, what had this place come to? She wanted to investigate. She simply HAD to know what was going on. But she knew better. What if her team had come back? What if one of the shooters opened fire on her? Her scrubs wouldn't protect her from hot lead. Deciding the best course of action was to watch from a distance, she watched intently. She began to plan the whole thing out. She'd wait for the fighting to stop, and then make her way over. Grabbing a piece of paper lying around, as well as a convenient pen, she scribbled down: "I'm at a house across the street, I'll be back soon. If I'm not back by morning, don't look for me. -Monica" She watched once more through the window as she began to gather her medical equipment. Maybe there'd be a survivor?

"Shit!" was the only thing John could scream as he dived on the floor, rolling up into a ball behind the sofa as the shots continued to smack through the wooden door. He tentatively reached out towards the shotgun a few feet in front of him but snatched his hand back when an errant bullet smacked into the floorboard an inch in front of his hand. Instead he pulled out his Colt 45 and raised it above his head so it was clear of the sofa, blindly aiming it in the rough direction of the door.

John had never fired a weapon at anything other than paper targets before. He knew he was a decent enough shot, but he had honestly never considered he would be in this kind of situation the entire time the town had been on lock-down. He only wanted to have the pistol with him for peace of mind, or maybe to use in convincing someone to part with their food or car, but not this. The shooting stopped abruptly followed by the metallic thud of a magazine falling to the floor outside. Whoever was out there was clearly reloading, and now was as good a time as any to fire.

John screwed his eyes tightly shut and prepared to fire his pistol, which he hoped was aimed somewhere near the door. Nothing happened. He realised he was too afraid to pull the trigger, and it was already too late now as whoever was outside was now trying to kick the door in. Scrambling to his feet he grabbed the shotgun with his spare hand and fled to the bedroom. In a few seconds he had holstered his pistol and collected his emergency backpack next to his bed. A few seconds after that he was climbing out of his window and sprinting down the dark streets as fast as he could from his home.

He heard female scream coming from his house behind him, cut short by a single gunshot. He knew what that meant, acknowledging as he ran that in the rush he had not even considered his own Mother. He also knew there was no way he was going back to help her. Suddenly, he felt as if a great weight was being lifted from his shoulders making him feel almost giddy. No more caring for her, endless hours talking to her about long past events, having to coax her into believing the most obvious things, no more sitcoms he would have to endure. For the first time during the last few days, he smiled. John ran on into the dark...

Monica observed the situation from the window, her curiosity growing by the second. She then noticed a single figure, leaping out of the window and towards her location. How convenient! Yet she couldn't decide if it was worth the risk of leaving. What if the man opened fire? What if the shooters pursued him? She was mostly safe inside, but her sense for adventure was being tested. This was the chance of a lifetime! But she knew she had to let it go. Dying probably wasn't a good idea right now. Instead, Monica crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it behind her. She sat in a chair to the side of the door, out of sight. Fiddling with the radio, she put on some classical music in an attempt to calm her nerves. With any luck, this would all be over soon.

Gabriel strolled down the street toting a blood-soaked totebag heavy with bibles and medical supplies. As he had prayed, the Lord kept him safe, wandering those dangerous streets. While in the hospital, he realized something. Flesh eating monsters and murderous cultists? What's so scary about that? He must know that his Lord is mightier.

Eventually, Gabriel came across the sound of... music. Bravely, he approached the source of the music, and rang the door bell.

Ding-Dong! rang the bell. Jumping up in her seat, she turned to the doors. A young boy stood by the door, carrying a large bag covered in blood. The boy looked unarmed, and rang the doorbell of all things. He likey didn't mean any harm. Maybe he wanted to trade? There wasn't a whole lot of stuff in the building, but she was sure that she could come up with something.

Walking gingerly to the door, she opened it ever so slightly. "H-Hello. Come inside, it's safe in here." she waited a brief second before slowly opening the door and gesturing to towards the inside. She'd usually be quite fine with a situation like this. Just a boy who's come to visit and say hello. But, for all Monica knew, he was some sort of monster in disguise. "That's... an awful lot of blood there... are you hurt? Do you need medical attention of any kind?"

The sewers sucked, they were tight, they smelled like shit, and with the maintenance hatches in the area blocked it was the only way to get to the electrical grid. Hunter and his current coworker Dave were stuck in the City's underground in hopes to fix one of the main breaker systems before it causes damage that no one could fix. "This place is a total mess. I'm surprised we weren't sent down here to do some work." Dave laughed a bit before speaking. "It's on the to do list, but the people on top think we need electricity more then a working sewer system. Or at least think that it can wait longer." Hunter sighed, not sure hot to think of it other then it sucked. "At least we're not on top like Phillipe? He has to watch the truck." That was true, at least down here there was two of them, and Hunter had his pistol in his tool bag. He was pretty sure Dave had a gun as well, though until they were out of the sewers they would be useless.

Dave stopped at a door and started going through his keys. "We're here. No idea what is on the other side but be ready for anything. Remember, we fix the breaker, and we get the fuck out of here as fast as possible." Hunter acknowledged him and followed his coworker into the maintenance tunnels. The only light they had was a couple flashlights, and not very good ones at that.

It wasn't long until they reached one of the main circuit systems. The place was filled with burnt corpses. "Dear god..." Dave threw up almost instantly, Hunter stood almost frozen. He figured there had to be at least twenty people down here. "What do you think caused this? The same people who are causing all of this shit?" Dave cleared away the vomit on his face, still looking uneasy.

Eventually he shook his head no. "No... best guess would be they went down here to hide... and someone touched something they shouldn't have... that is probably why the system is so messed up right now..." Hunter grabbed his pistol from the bag, and put it in his belt. "Just in case. Let's just get this thing working again and get the fuck out of here." Dave nodded in agreement and they got to work. Despite most of the systems being broken they only needed to fix enough to prevent long term damage and to keep some form of lights on at night.

At one point Hunter stopped and looked at one of the circuits that were being replaced, it was split open, the lock in pieces on the floor. Someone forced their way in here... and hacked away at the circuit... this was intentional. "Dave!" Hunter screamed. "Dave! We Need To Leave NOW!" Hunter dropped his bags and ran looking for his Friend.

He didn't need to go far before he found Dave lifted in the air by a large man with a large sharp object. One Hunter couldn't even hope to guess what it was. "oh shit..." That was enough to get the attention of the large cloaked figure, and the others that are spread out around him.

Hunter pulled his pistol and started shooting, only getting two shots off before running like hell to the sewer hatch. He soon received returning gun fire, there was no saving Dave now, as much as he regretted it. He had one gun with 8 bullets, and he counted at least five people there, and at least one or two guns between them all. There was no winning that fight, not realistically. He heard more gunshots go off as he crawled through the tunnels. It was dark enough they couldn't see him, but he couldn't see that well either. It took him almost twice as long to get out as it took to get in.

Once out of the tunnel Hunter was met by another cloaked figure, this one not as big as the first one but still had a sharp object. The two were brought down to the sewage material as Hunter tried to find his now dropped gun, and the new person was trying to stab him. Hunter was able to pull his pistol first though and pull the trigger. Click, click, click. The gun wouldn't fire, was it jammed from the sewage? Or even just the water? It didn't matter, what mattered was the fact that Hunter was about to get stabbed.

Hunter eventually hit the figure with the grip of his pistol and shoot him off. Once he was free he held the figure down below the sewage, he would have finished the job, but the sharp object went into his arm, forcing him to let go. Instead of finishing the fight, Hunter ran as the figure tried to stand up.

Once he was on the surface, Phillipe was missing, and the truck was ransacked. "For Fuck's sake..." He said almost crying. He didn't live too far from here. It was almost Dark though. He would have to move now with out stopping to make it back. SO he did, and started walking.