Zaeed had never considered himself lucky. Some might call him that now; he had military experience, though that was years ago. Mercenary experience. He knew how to use a gun -- better yet, a sniper -- knew how to kill silently to not attract attention. Had access to his Jessie, the best damn sniper out there.

He didn’t consider himself lucky, though, for a rather good reason in his eye. He was still just as fucked as everyone else.

Sure, he had a silent gun and an experience with killing. But everyone can be caught off guard. With the husks wandering outside, some silent, some screeching, there was no safety. He found little solace in his gun, his abilities. He was not lucky. They all had piss-poor luck, and he was no exception.

He supposed it was almost nice, if you didn’t think about the deadly creatures lurking everywhere. Walking through the city slowly, a cigar in his lips, gun in his hand and no one to tell him to stop any of it. Sort of lonely, but he didn’t mind. He’d rather face those slow-moving creatures than a bastard who knew how to wield. He’d resigned himself to this life.