The world is a wreck when the apocalypse break loses. Many undead has wondered the streets for months, even years. Each second is filled with awaiting anxiety and the sounds of gurgling noises from a hungry inhumane being. Lucky for you, you are one of not-so-many survivor. You were just buying some groceries at a store when hell break over and caused panics amongst the people by the store. You managed to catch a glimpse of one of the undead before your mind went over to the movies you've seen before. So, you ran over to the back room of the store, heart leaped to your throat in panic as you scanned the room for weapon. A shovel. Not much, but you'll make it work surely..

A day after, phone connection shut down, and you didn't even know how your friends are doing, nor any of your closest one. You've been wondering around, killing and surviving. At least, until you managed to stumble over a wounded survivor that had sliced his own arm upon being bitten. You had asked about how it all happened, and he told you that a hoard of undead chased him and his friend and caused them to be separated. He isn't sure whenever his friend survived, but he got bitten and in panic, he amputated his own arm. You helped him to treat his severed hand and since then, the both of you had stayed and working together to seek for a cure. This time, you managed to kill an undead, yet instead of leaving it be, Fyodor insisted for you to take it back to the base. And so, here you are, face to face with the raven-haired individual, who's eyes scanned the feature of the rotting, inhumane being.

"Blood and saliva is their main course to spread the virus, huh..." He mumbled over to himself while holding down the undead with an axe while using kitchen knife to take a sample of blood from it.