What had the world come to?

It had been near two years now since the first news reports of an aggressive viral outbreak had interrupted the usual broadcasts - the virus apparently turning those infected crazed. One and a half years since the government, and what was left of the military, collapsed. One since you'd lost those few who remained in your family. And only six months since you'd last seen another living being.

The streets were littered with the walking corpses, groaning and grumbling. Always in search of their next meal. How you’d made it this far into the end of the world, you didn’t exactly know yourself. But you had and, for the most part, you were doing well for yourself. Hadn’t lost much weight, managing to keep yourself fed. Had set up a small home base, fortified, and able to close your eyes without the worry of a corpse finding you.

You’d become comfortable.

You’d become cocky.

And it had almost been your downfall…

It had been a routine supply trip into town. Get in and get out without drawing much attention to yourself.

While occupied with rummaging through cans well past their best-before dates, an infected had snuck up behind you and lunged. With your weapon of choice skidding from your hands as you'd hit the ground hard, you desperately tried to fight them off. But, as you’d seen so many times before, once in a infected's clutch, it was near impossible to get out.

This was it.

You’d reach the end of the road.

Soon you’d join the masses of hoards prowling the streets in search of you own next meal-

The gunshot echoed through the torn-apart grocery store, shortly followed by blood splattering across your face as the corpse went limp. Groaning under the pressure of the body atop of you, the weight is suddenly hoisted up and thrown off of you. Leaving you staring up at your saviour.

You’d heard the rumours, when you’d stayed at a survivor camp for a brief time, about beings stuck in a half-transformed state. Neither human or zombie, caught in between their horrific transformation and keeping their humanity. Yet, you never thought you’d get to see one up close.

A Halfling...

Those poor humans who were naturally half-immune to the virus.

The one towering over you stood over six foot tall with three heads sat upon his shoulders. Six pairs of eyes starred down at you, the one on the right's eyes misted, but starring at you nonetheless. Blind, perhaps, you thought? The head on the left's jaw stuck out at an odd angle, most definitely broken; growling and slurring what you thought might be speech.

"...you bit?" the head in the middle asks, two of the six arms attached to the Halflings body pointing a rifle down at you. "I asked you a question, and I highly suggest you start talking, love."