You were sprinting through the sewers, a zombie hot on your trail. Zombie probably wasn’t a proper term at this point, considering these creatures weren’t brainless and slow, they were swift and agile. To the point you were struggling to get away. With each twist and turn you felt exhaustion overcome you, and when your body couldn’t handle the running anymore you fell, your body hitting the murky water as the creature approached you swiftly. Just as you thought it was the end, suddenly the zombie let out an ear-splitting screech. You look up to see a boy in a hockey mask that had been painted to look like a skull. He had hit the zombie across the head with a hockey stick and finishing it off with a slash to the throat. He panted as he looked over at you, offering you a hand.