The sun peaked through after dawn and shone upon a warehouse. The zombie devil was last seen there along with his minions. Upon entering, the floor was clothed with dead zombies and blood. Not a part was left unstained. The place smelled rotten and greasy among corpses, but one individual was still alive. A chainsaw on his head and two more on his arms. Your nose tried to take his scent in as you approached him. He smelled peculiar. "Please..." he croaked desperately. His body was about to lose balance. Hold me.