Rolls:

Monster:

A soft, gentle tune hung in the air around the Briss Kingdom marine base that night. Anton La'croix sat on the sill of the window to his quarters, playing his violin. He still couldn't believe the events of the previous day. A lieutenant. Apparently his performance on Centauruea had turned some heads, and he was surprised when he was called to the Briss Marine base to be informed of his promotion. He hadn't even been an ensign, he was amazed that they skipped over that rank. He couldn't help but feel a little bit bad for that, but a part of him reminded him he deserved it after all that crazy crap a few days ago. Hell, he was STILL having nightmares about that pirate he fought, Zebedee Meyer. That was why he was still up and playing his violin. It always helped calm him and helped him sleep afterwards. It seemed to be doing a good job for the other marines as well, since nobody seemed to mind him playing.

He saw so caught up in his music that he hadn't realized there was someone below his window until he heard the clatter of a barrel being knocked over. Reacting instinctively, Anton turned to see what was the commotion, before accidentally losing his balance and falling. The marine cried out as he fell to the ground below with a painful thump. It took him a second to regain his senses, groaning as he rubbed the back of his head. As his eyes focused, he could see figures standing over him, staring down at him. Looking down at him with soulless, rotting eyes.

Wait a minute. Soulless? Rotting?

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the people standing over him could be considered, well, less than alive. Their frames were gaunt, their skin rotting, their clothes hanging off of them in tattered rags. Anyone who saw these people could easily identify them for what they were.

Zombie...

Anton's piercing shriek echoed throughout the base.

"WhymewhymeWHYME!?" Anton shrieked as he ran like a bat out of hell, or more appropriately, a grasshopper out of hell, through the streets. As soon as he had realized just what had been surrounding him, he had reflexively morphed into his hybrid form, and promptly kicked two of them aside in order to get the hell out of there. Now he was running down the street, not really caring just where the heck he was going, just so long as it was away from those damn zombies!

Speaking of the zombies, they were chasing after him, going surprisingly fast for walking corpses. Though one of the ten seemed to be missing (that kick probably had done more than he had thought. Seriously though, with the chase going on, and Anton's high pitched shrieking, how the hell was nobody waking up and seeing what was going on? This was like something out of a bad ghost story. This was ridiculous!

The marine rounded a corner into a nearby alleyway, hoping to finally escape the walking dead. Much to his horror, what he found instead was nothing but a dead end. He moved to turn back, only to find those nine zombies cutting him off. Damn those zombies moved fast! Anton backed up against the wall, sweat running down his face in a panic. He did not survive through training and all this crap, to get eaten by freakin' zombies!

"Hopper Tackle!"

Anton kicked himself off of the wall, shooting towards the zombies like a bullet. He crashed through them, like a bowling ball through pins, before breaking into a run. It seemed the attack had been enough to bring down three more of the zombies, with the remaining sex scrambling to their feet and chasing after him. It wasn't too hard for them after all, just follow the sounds of the screams.

It was amazing just how much cover one can cover when one is screaming and running for their life. Before Anton had realized it, he had made his way outside of town, and had ended up somewhere in the forest. Not that it really bothered Anton in any way. Just so long as he was getting far away from those damn zombies, anywhere was ok. No such luck those, as those persistent undead were right behind him. Just how much stamina did those zombies have anyway? Pretty spry for rotting corpses.

Anton's screaming came to an abrupt halt, right before the young man had almost thrown himself off of a cliff. Arms flailing, the man managed to stop himself from falling, much to his relief. The only problem now was that he was trapped, and those undead had closed in rather quickly. Well, they would have if they weren't standing around and catching their breath. Guess zombies could get tired after all. It was enough to take some of the edge off of a rather frightening situation.

Unfortunately, that edge came right back as the zombies, having regained their 'composure' now began lumbering towards Anton, groaning, eyes outstretched, and eyes filled with what could be described as frustration. After all, you'd be frustrated too if you had to chase someone all over the island. And this time, Anton had nowhere to run. Nowhere to kick off of. What was the marine to do?

Well, do what he normally does in stressful situations. Scream and flail.

The unfortunate zombies hadn't counted on two things. One was that Anton's grasshopper legs had a surprising amount of strength to them, and fighting on a cliff was very dangerous. As a result, one would be treated to a rather humorous sight of six zombies plummeting down into the water below, some of them even kicked apart, their bodies unable to hold themselves together. As the zombies crashed into the water below, Anton stood on the cliff, panting heavily, eyes wide. The guy had just been chased by, and fought off, a bunch of zombies that had come out of nowhere! Zebedee Meyer was bad, but this was going to give Anton nightmares for months!

"I...I need to lay down..."

The marine fell back, falling to the ground and blacking out.

That morning, three rotted corpses would be found around the island, and more would be found washed up on the shore. People could only guess what the hell had happened. The previous night had been so peaceful after all.