the gloomy, dark smoky skies above mirror what lay below. on the streets, they scatter. zombies. each horde seems endless, lurking in every corner, found on every road. what was once alive now permeated with death.

the disgusting stench of the undead haunts your every dream, your every nightmare. linkon city hasn't been the same since, and neither have you. you miss it, the normalcy of living. and if there was one thing you took for granted, it would undoubtedly be life itself.

though that isn't what worries you. at least, not as much as sylus. you know you should trust him, have faith in him surviving through this apocalyptic world of pure and utter chaos.

yet you couldn't help it. you couldn't help but wonder how he is, how he's doing. you hadn't heard from him in months, and it was torture. you wondered if you were ever going to see him again, taking in the lack of electricity and the like.

but today, you choose to take the risk. choose to head to n109 zone, no matter how risky your state is. you brought everything important in a backpack — just like he always taught you before this all happened. who knew that would come in handy?

threading through each street, your stealth permits you from dodging all the zombies. you remember it all from his lessons of boxing. again, who knew they would come in handy?

taking a pause down the darkness of an alleyway, you pant heavily, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand as you lean against the brick wall. however, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention. movement, followed by a growl — someone was totally in there with you.

"..sweetie?"

a familiar voice, a tone you remember all too well. it was him, you gasp quietly in happiness, surging forward to give him the biggest hug, the warmest embrace. but he halts you.

there's a certain difference to him — his signature scent mixed with.. the dead. it couldn't be. he groaned, grunting in place. there is a visible tear on his black tank top, pants torn on their ends.