Valendir

"That's a negative Lyla, the armored division is currently assessing the breach on the northern gate, and we have bigger problems. With no power conduits that means our turrets are down, and we won't last long if those pieces of grub meat gets in here. I want you to follow the seargeant to the power conduit and repair it. Syril, I want you to defend her with your life."

At first Lyla wanted to complain, but after looking around, she knew the situation needed more than just one tank, and the only way for her to help right now would be to get the turrets up and running.

"Alright. Seargeant, lead the way! Syril, you . . . um . . . You just do what you do, 'kay?"

Syril gave a cold, curt nod, not speaking or looking at Lyla. He always somewhat scared her when he was like this. Tightening her bandanna, she pulled on her gloves, pulled out her heaviest wrench, and glared at the zombies.

"Let's rock."

"Alright. Seargeant, lead the way!"

"Yes ma'am," he pointed to a few others, "you men, follow me!"

Two other soldiers followed close along with their CO, the Trejan and engineer girl. The seargeant led the group over to a closed building, steam erupted from pipes and the crackle of electricity could be heard. As they continued onward an explosion came from right in front of them, hindering their path.

He grunted and told them to follow him along the other path. After a few minutes of traversing the maze of steam pipes and double filed corridors, they made it to a small room. There was a power box and an electical conduit that was torn.

"After you get that conduit working again we need to head to the grid room, from there we can activate the turrets. We'll need to work quickly though with minimal error."

A set of eyes scanned the area, another set watched the two soldiers outside the entrance to the small room, they waited ever so carefully, their acidic claws only dripping a little and singing the grated floor below. They had to follow their master's orders to the letter.

"Kill the girl, do as you please with the others."

They repeated the thoughts in their heads over and over again. They would do so, for their master's benefit, for their entire race's benefit.

* * *
On the Western Front

Rishi immediately jumped into the fray, his butterfly swords making quick work of the zombies. He made swift moves, slicing off limbs, decapitating heads, blocking weapons, it was all easy work, and he did so with minimal error. About the only real threat were the dark sages, their magick spells dealing heavy amounts of damage.

The defense turrets on this side ripped up flesh and carved through bone, so if the Galrin horde managed to fully break through the wall, they would at least have time to fall back to the secondary defensive position.

Meanwhile

"Oy, Boss! We found the armory!"

"Good," a well fit man walks into the room, he wears tattered clothing and a tattoo is on his forehead, "let's show those Galmorians that when we're out, we're out to kill."

The prisoners cheered on their leader as they grabbed swords and magick bombs.

"And if those Galrin bastards think us humans are so weak, we'll prove them wrong too. I don't care who dies in this, if the Galmorians die, good for us, if the Galrins die again, good for us, if you die... well that's gonna be a damn shame now won't it?"

They cheered again, "alright, let's get 'im."

Another loud roar and they charged out of the armory and to the streets, they smashed through windows and destroyed shops. They killed the innocent and hacked through soldier and zombie alike. Once they got towards the West Gate they started to prep the bombs.

"Alright, blow 'em all to hell!"

They threw the bombs to devastating effects, zombies blew to bits, skeletons defended the best they could, though most lost their limbs or heads. Galmorians screamed and yelled as they were blown back.

"Let's teach them all a lesson for holding us back all those dammed years! Kill them all!"

Lyla surveyed the conduits and the power box. Most of the wires were torn, which would make it difficult to reattach them. Opening the power box, she coughed as acrid smoke wafted up. Looking behind her, she called out, "I'm gonna need a blowtorch in here!

Before she got that tool, though, she had to work on reattaching the wires. She stripped off an inch of rubber on each side of the wires and trimmed the frayed ends. Working quickly, she tore off a length of tape from her belt and wrapped the wires. It would hold.

While she worked, Syril stood behind her, guarding the entrance. He could sense something coming. It was a sense of foreboding that made the hairs on his neck prickle. Lyla was in danger. He loosened one of his tantos and glared down the pipes.

Shade had obeyed the order immediately, drawing back his bowstring, hesitating only a fraction of a second to aim, and then letting loose, piercing his first indead target in the head. As the others charged forward, Shade stayed back behind, covering their advance and watching their flanks and backs. Arrows flew from his quiver one at a time, stopping only long enough for Shade to take a brief moment of well practiced aim.

When they advanced far enough, Shade went to another position, retrieving arrows along the way.

One of the Reandir transformed, and Shade fired after him, attempting to clear his path.

As he fired round after round, the familiar blur circled around him. He each figure as a haze, and he saw every target in stark clarity. Without even thinking, he could point and shoot wherever he chose and hit the mark.

"'Death and judgment; smoke and flame; Hell and torment...'" He muttered the lines of an ancient poem, not knowing the words that came from his lips. He was distracted from his fury by the sound of an explosion. He fell into a defensive crouch, and returned to fighting. The blast was near...

The ship had stopped shaking, and under different circumstances, Edward would have been pleased. However, the constant movement had been what had kept them from being turned into target practice for the Dark Sages. Again. The brief spark of hope he felt that perhaps Kit had managed to gain enough distance from the robed men was extinguished by a lance of bleakness passing about four feet from the bow. “Shit!”

And then there was the screams and trashing coming from the inside. His bloody pilot in trouble. Again. But who was he to ignore a damsel in distress. Now that the ship had stopped dodging, getting back to the hatch was as simple as jumping, sliding, and falling through the hole in the ground.

He nearly landed on Kit, who was lying on the ground near the dashboard, which now consisted out of a score of blinking lights. If the noise inside the vessel was any indication, the jumper, who was crawling to his feet with a knife stuck in his side, had done quiet some damage. There were wires everywhere, and one of walls had… vanished. Lovely. This was another reason he hated airships; if a hovercrafts engine stopped working, it would still float.

If an airship’s engines ceased, it didn’t stay in the air long.

Which meant they had to land, or risk falling to their deaths. But before they could think of landing or making repairs, they had to get rid of their unwanted visitor. The thing had pulled out the metal blade, and was now watching it dissolve in its claw. Acid. Lovely. Edward doubted his pistols would be able to stand the dark green, nearly black liquid dripping from the nails. But the wire hilts had been constructed out of tempered iron, and reinforced with adamant. Sturdy enough to deflect a sword blow, and pure enough to withstand acid.

He hoped.

The creature came for him, or them, as Kit was still crawling not far behind him. Reloading the flintlocks could be done with a single hand, but not while brawling with a hundred pounds of meat and metal. The first blow was a downward sweep, which Edward sidestepped, followed by a sideward sweep, which he was forced to deflect. The limited space inside the vessel proved to be a larger problem for him then it was for the creature.

Never the less, he managed to land a few punches, and although they mostly seemed ineffective, he did manage to dent the things mask, as well as break of one of the thing’s needle like fingers. The thing, in turn, had rewarded the effort by ripping through his shirt and leaving a burning mark on his shoulder. The slashes and punches continued as the two slowly drew closer to the Jumper’s point of entrance; the man sized hole in the ship’s side.

Apparently Edward was neither injured nor dead but had simply been taking his time; as Kit crawled backwards, away from the creature, her piratical companion appeared through the hatch, almost landing on top of her. He seemed hale and unharmed, if perhaps somewhat discomposed by his brief sojourn outside. Kit breathed a sigh of relief on seeing him - something she had never thought she would have occasion to do.

At least he had managed to deal with the creature on the engines; the low vibration through the floor - and the fact that they were still midair - testified to that. The control panel was damaged, but as long the engines were intact Kit could patch it temporarily to land the ship. But first …

The Jumper leapt at them, its focus now on Edward as the primary target, but the pirate neatly sidestepped one swipe and deflected another. Dark green acid dripped steadily from the creature’s claws as they fought, and Kit winced more than once as another slice was taken out of her ship; if the Celerity’s reinforced steel panels could be melted so easily, the gods knew what the venom would do to Edward’s skin.

There was limited space within the cockpit, and Kit quickly realised that as Edward and the creature slashes and punched at one another they were moving slowly closer to the hole the Jumper had ripped in the side of the ship. An idea began to form in Kit’s mind, and, taking advantage of the creature’s distraction, she scrambled back over to the control panel and grabbed her rifle where it lay on the floor.

Her hand had just closed over the metal when her bomb detonated outside. With part of the ship’s wall gone they could hear the deafening explosion, and the ship rocked slightly midair with the force from the blast. Straightening up, Kit saw several miles of the northern wall was gone, crumbled in on itself. With all the dust and rubble she couldn’t see if the sages were dead, but there were no more spears of magic energy aimed at the ship.

That was one problem taken care of. Now for the other.

Turning round, Kit saw the Jumper was still engaged with Edward. It had ripped its mask off, revealing a dead-skinned, grotesquely ugly face. Acid dripped from its mouth as well as its claws, and it charged with fury at the pirate.

It was also stood directly in front of the hole in the ship’s side, several hundred feet above the ground. Perfect.

“Edward!” Kit called as she hefted up the rifle. “Get down!”

“Oh you got to be fragging kidding me.” Edward had taken the time it had taken for the Jumper to rip of his mask to step back and pull two small iron spheres from the bullet containers. Bristling with magick energy, the very essence of magick marksmanship; the bullets. With a few movements, the bullets rolled into the barrels. Just in time, too. The creature spat something at him, more acid, and although he managed to dodge the bulk of it, he could feel small splatters burning holes in his sleeve and collar.

A loud explosion outside betrayed that Kit had set of the bomb. Good. No more Dark Sages. No more dodging. That meant this thing was the last remaining threat. A mere trifle. These chumps may not have learned it yet, but nothing stood between him and victory. No man. Not even a dead, acid spitting man.

The creature charged him, the movement of his head making it an unpleasant target. Instead, Edward settled with the things shoulder; a loud bang rang trough the airship as the two bullet buried themselves into the creatures shoulder before causing the joint to explode. Small shards of bone ruptured from the creature shoulder. The arm fell limp, unusable. It did not, however, slow down the creatures charge.

Edward had the time nor the space to dodge, instead capturing the Jumper’s claw with one hilt, and punching the other into the creatures face, breaking teeth and pushing the entire hilt into the creatures mouth, made easier by the Jumper’s now broken jaw.

Even so, his position was less then favorable, with the creature hanging over him, still clawing. “Shit!” It pulled back slightly, and Edward managed another punch. And another one. And another one. The things jaw was no hanging from bloody pieces of flesh, the nose was no more, teeth fractured. Not a pretty sight. And acid was spilling free from the bloody pulp that had ones been the things face, the blood and acid burning his hands and clothing.

“Edward!” Kit called. “Get down!”

“Just kill it already!”

“Charming,” Kit took aim. It wasn’t easy with Edward still in such close proximity to the creature, holding back one claw with the hilt of one of his pistols and delivering rapid punches to its face, turning it into an acidic, bloody pulp. “Just don’t blame me if I hit you.”

She pulled the trigger, and a bolt of crackling electricity lanced out towards the creature. As with the one outside, the armour acted as a conductor; the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the cockpit as the heated metal burnt the creature’s skin, and it gave a high-pitched wail of agony. The electricity also blocked its nervous system and caused it to lose control of its motor functions. It staggered backwards, screeching, until, as Kit had hoped, it stumbled at the edge of the hole and fell, plummeting hundreds of feet through the air towards the rubble-strewn streets below.

Kit waited until its shrieks had faded before she lowered the rifle and breathed deeply. Turning towards Edward she saw he had acquired several deep cuts, the skin around each burnt by the acid. They looked painful.

“Sit. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Setting the rifle down she took a few steps towards the locker where she kept first aid and emergency supplies, then hesitated and looked around. “And thank you. I owe you.”

Nodding once, she turned back and opened the locker, rummaging around for the few basic medical supplies she had.

“You do owe me one.” And he owed her one. Not that she had to know that. Briefly touching the wound on his shoulder, Edward winced. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been beaten up this badly. In the last few years, the military had expected him to stand back and stay out of danger while taking out targets from a distance. The brawling had been limited to bar fights and the occasional wronged brother or father.

“I see you blew the wall to smithereens. The ‘Captain’ should be pleased.” He grinned at her back. “Good call though.” Still grinning, he pushed himself up against the wall, groaning as he did so. That was going hurt tomorrow morning. Heck, it hurt right now. Whose brilliant idea had it been to go on this mission again?

Shaking his head, he reminded himself of the ‘Dawn’s Harmony’, out there somewhere.

“Must say kitty cat, this metal box of yours held together quite nicely. Still think you’re mad though, flying a thing like this. Ever thought about a career change?” He walked to the woman’s side of the wall and settled on the ground. Every movement ached, and it took a few ragged breaths before he continued. “I could use a mechanic as yourself once I get the ‘Dawn’ back.

“Like I give a damn what Taldrin thinks,” Kit snorted as she pulled out a white plastic box stamped with a large red cross. Opening it revealed an assortment of bandages, ointments, dressings and various other items. “And I’ll have you know the hole was the work of our Jumper friend. As if I would mutilate my own ship that way.”

Indignation filled her voice at the very thought. As it was she was feeling wholly despondent that the Celerity had been so heavily damaged, and was wondering if she would be allowed time to fix it. Probably not. At least, not enough time for a thorough repair. A patch job, maybe. But chances were high Taldrin might dismiss it as not worth the effort and decided on a different method of transportation. In which case Kit might be allowed to return to Galmora and concentrate her efforts on the Celerity.

“Must say Kitty Cat, this metal box of yours held together quite nicely.”

Kit turned to look at Edward, torn between pleasure at her ship being praised; annoyance at the veiled insult towards her ship; and irritation at being called Kitty Cat.

“Still think you’re mad though, flying a thing like this.” Annoyance won out. Kit scowled as she selected a bottle of antiseptic cream. She hoped it stung. “Ever thought about a career change?”

As Edward settled himself against the wall beside her, she squeezed out some of the cream onto a square of clean cloth. “To what, exactly?”

“I could use a mechanic as yourself once I get the ‘Dawn’ back.”

“Oh really? You can’t handle her yourself?” she teased, kneeling down beside him. Gently she began to rub the antiseptic into the wound on his shoulder. “I might not be the most obedient soldier, but I’m not a pirate. And bor your information, this ‘box’ is the best damned ship in the Galmoran fleet. I’ve been working on her for ten years and if you knew anything about airships you’d know how special she is.”

Folding away the cloth, she pulled a bandage from the kit and began wrapping the wound. “Ask any Galmoran pilot, and they’ll tell you. They all wish their engines ran as smoothly as the Celerity’s and were as easy to handle. Not to mention the speed she can travel. But, of course,” she added with a grin, “You can always bring the ‘Dawn’ to Galmora and I’ll see what I can do to improve her. For a small fee.”

With the woman wrapping his wounds, Edward again got a good view of the female curves, this time from a different angle. A good day, if it hadn’t been for his abduction from the capital, nearly getting hurled out of an airship and the Jumper using him as a chew toy. “And what else would a woman such as yourself do for a small fee?”

A small voice in the back of his head, the one he usually ignored, was screaming for him to shut up, lest this woman was next to use him as a chew toy. Perhaps it was the cuts, the bruises, the image of certain death imprinted on his mind in three separate ways, but for once, he was prone to listen to it. Do not piss of the woman trying to help you. Not this woman. Not now, at least.

“Sorry, kitty cat. Old habits dying hard and all that.”

*Eastern Wall*

Taldrin flew into the fray, his claymore at the ready for a full swing. When he did so it sliced 3 of the zombies in half, he finished the job with a crack of the skull under his adamantium boots. He deflected blows from other warriors and recieved gashes in his armor from 'lucky blows the enemy delt. He retaliated in other ways and forms though and killed a good amount of the undead Galrin army.

He put a hand to his ear, his communication crystal flickered to life.

"This is Taldrin to Rishi, what's your status on the west wall?"

"Rishi to Taldrin, prisoners have escaped and found weapons, their throwing the bombs."

"Magick bombs?"

"Yes."

"Try and incapacitate them."

"Will do Taldrin, Rishi out."

"Taldrin to Lyla, what's your status on the defense grid? The Galrin are starting to break through, and we're running out of time!"

* * *

The jumper watched the humans hungrily, he needed them to finish though, in the shadows of the halls, then he could strike.

* * *
*Western Wall*

"Will do Taldrin, Rishi out."

He looked about the field, although the prisoners were taking out the Galrin they were also killing the authorities, on purpose, that could not be let go unpunished.

"Everyone, incapacitate the prisoners, they must not escape!"

He sliced through another skeletal soldier and started to made his way towards the prisoners, changing into his wolf form he pounced on one of them, knocking the man out and bit the arm of another.

* * *
*Falchion Command*

Colonel Summers overlooked the scene of carnage, while also issuing orders to the Galmorians fighting on the streets, it was absolute chaos.

"Sir!" he turned, one of the soldiers came to him and saluted, "we've recieved reports that the northern wall is beginning to clear up."

"Good," he looked to the radio set, "get me a feed on Taldrin's ship."

"Yes sir."

hooking up a line to the celerity he spoke into the radio,

"This is Colonel Summers to the Celerity, what's the status on the northern front, over."

Amidst the hiss of steam and the roar of the blowtorch, Lyla heard the voice of Captain Taldrin.

"Taldrin to Lyla, what's your status on the defense grid? The Galrin are starting to break through, and we're running out of time!"

Flipping up her face mask and wiping the sweat from her eyes, she grabbed the communications crystal.

"Lyla to Taldrin," she replied, "The power conduit is working, I'm just trying to reinforce it. It was pretty badly damaged, so the current running through it might blow it out if we're not careful. I'll be down at the defence grid soon. I'll have it activated as soon as I get down there."

Pocketing the crystal and hanging the blowtorch from her belt, she turned to Syril.

"We need to get to that defence grid, and fast. The Galrin are breaking through."

Syril led the way out, where two soldiers waited. For some reason, he had a very bad feeling.

"Lyla to Taldrin," she replied, "The power conduit is working, I'm just trying to reinforce it. It was pretty badly damaged, so the current running through it might blow it out if we're not careful. I'll be down at the defence grid soon. I'll have it activated as soon as I get down there."

"Understood, Taldrin out," he could only hope that they would get it online soon.

* * *
The girl was talking, the men were leaving, he smiled a sinister smile and looked to his brother. The second Jumper walked ever so stealthely in the shadows, the girl passed and another soldier passed through. As the soldier walked, he neglected to notice the Jumper behind him, which then grabbed man's mouth and stabbed his acidic blade, dealing a killing blow. He quickly retreated into the shadows.

The jumper hangning from the ceiling let the men pass by, the girl followed behind. He slowly, ever so slowly let himself down, making no sounds whatsoever. He quietly crawled up behind the girl, he wanted to see her die, to see the life draining from her mortal eyes.

He extended his metal claw with a loud shing, acid spat from the claw and dripped from the pipes. The girl slowly turned around and came face to face with him. After a brief silence, and the realization of what she was confronting he let out a guttural roar. She shrieked and he raised his claw to strike her down.

Syril, in front of Lyla, heard her shriek, and was already drawing a knife and throwing it even before she had time to finish. It caught the creature's arm and knocked it off balance, giving Syril enough time to grab Lyla and practically throw her to the ground.

"Stay down," he breathed, standing over her and concealing her body with his cloak. Even in combat, he did not raise his voice. The jumper shrieked and retreated into the shadows. That was a mistake. The shadows were Syril's home. He closed his eyes and listened, barely breathing.

The soft hisses and gentle sounds of drops of acid tipped him off. Grabbing his bow, he nocked an arrow and fired. A screech of pain told him his arrow had hit its mark. The jumper fell from the ceiling, Syril's arrow stuck in its leg. He hadn't been aiming for the leg, but it had gotten it down. Ripping off the mask of the jumper, Syril plunged his tanto into the creature's face, his eyes cold.

Standing up, he sheathed his blade and grabbed Lyla. Speaking curtly to the remaining soldier, he began to walk, almost draggin Lyla along with him.

"We need to go now, get us to the defence grid as quickly as possible.

Years spent as one of the very few female mechanics and pilots amongst the many men had inured Kit to all sorts of derogatory and insulting remarks and comments, and somehow she was unsurprised that Edward was the type to make them. With his dashing good looks and flamboyant attitude he seemed the womanising type; he reminded her of her fellow mechanic, Petar, whose only requirement when it came to woman was that they were … well, women.

Still, she respected his dedication that even vulnerable and wounded as he was he would risk angering with such an insinuation. The though seemed to occur to him at the same time. “Sorry, kitty cat. Old habits dying hard and all that.”

“It’s fine, Goldilocks,” she rolled her eyes. “I doubt you could say anything I haven’t heard before.”

As she finished tying the bandage, a static crackle came from the radio. It was followed by a voice Kit recognised as the one who had radioed for aid in the first place.

“This is Colonel Summers to the Celerity, what’s the status on the northern front? Over.”

Straightening up, Kit took the few steps over to the control panel and picked up the receiver.

“Colonel Summers, this is Kathryn Solange, pilot of the Celerity. We’ve had Jumpers and Dark Sages over here, and my companion’s injured. The ship’s also in a pretty bad state. Part of the northern wall collapsed, but the majority of the Galrin forces are down. We’re waiting to here from Taldrin and Rishi. Over.”

“Thank you. We’ll be over shortly. Over.”

Kit put down the radio, then turned to Edward. She had bound up his shoulder, the worst injury, but his hands still looked a mess from the punches he’d thrown, and he had a few other cuts and scrapes. Still, she didn’t think there were any critical injuries and it would probably be best to get to the docks and find something who actually knew something about medicine.

“We’re headed to Bay 3 then. Hopefully there’ll be a doctor there to look at you.”

Thankfully the Jumper had only caused surface damage to the control panel; the flight controls were still intact, and Kit was able to the gently take the Celerity over Falchion to the Central Command. Wind swirled in through the ragged hole in the ship’s wall, raising goosebumps on her flesh. It was a relief to be guided down into Bay 3 and set down on the docking clamps.

Shade heard Rishi's orders in the break in his focus, and he sidestepped quickly across the street into a new position. He fired at the zombies as he went, puncturing only heads. He dashed into a half-wrecked building and up a flight of stairs to the decimated second floor.

From there, he had a much better view of the street below. From his perch, he began slowly and carefully firing rounds at the prisoners, putting shafts through legs, arms, and shoulders.

Sen reached the West Wall, which was crawling with Galrin zombies and technicians, all working to pry it open and let the remainder of their forces into the city. Still in wolf form, he turned and ran parallel to the wall, his extended blades slashing anyone foolish enough to dare touch that wall. He cut the legs off their siege ladders, sending the men toppling to their deaths.

After reaching the far end of the massive gate, he turned to make another pass and finish off any survivors. His claws dug into the hard ground as he worked to redirect his massive form. Slowing down and turning were his two worst enemies and someone must have realized this fact. As he was completing the turn, a black orb rolled into his path: a magick bomb. Unable to turn in time, he resorted to rolling in an attempt to get away, but the bomb detonated just as he began the maneuver.

The blast sent him skidding across the ground on his back and side and he hit the wall with a heavy thud. He lay there for a moment, dazed, confused, and surrounded by a cloud of smoke and settling debris. His vision blurred and sounds mingled, but one sight came to him clearly: a second black orb rolled to a stop, inches from his face.

"S**t!" He reverted to human form instantly, faster than he had ever done before, grabbed the bomb, tossed it up straight up, and ran for dear life. It exploded a few meters off the ground. The force of the blast knocked him off his feet again and he found himself face down in the dirt for a second time. Wonderful. This is going splendidly, he thought.

As the smoke cleared, he could see them clearly: two raggedy men with their sights set on him. Prisoners. With bombs. One was pulling a wheelbarrow filled with the black explosives, while the other was priming and throwing them. The second man had another magick bomb in hand, ready to throw. Sen was on his feet instantly.

He drew his swords, one in his left, one in his right. But his right hand felt strangely light. Glancing down, he saw the blade had been snapped off halfway, probably when he'd gotten thrown againt the wall in wolf form. Lovely, he thought, switching his one undamaged weapon to his right hand, and stowing the other in his holster.

Meanwhile, the bombers were sizing him up. Somewhere they must have gotten the idea that he would make an interesting target. "I'm flattered by your attention, but perhaps we could talk this over, hmm?" Sen asked, as the man threw another bomb his way. He managed to catch this one and was tempted to throw it right back at them, but instead tossed it into the air, where it safely detonated. "The offer is still on the table," he said with a smile.

But the man was already getting another bomb from the wheelbarrow and Sen knew it was time to end this before someone got hurt. He charged toward the two men, raised his weapon, and was poised to decapitate the thrower, but paused with his blade within inches of the man's throat. He flipped his sword to a reverse grip and struck the man with the butt of the hilt, knocking him out. The other man -- the one holding the wheelbarrow -- turned to run away, but Sen quickly grabbed an unlit bomb and chucked it at the man, knocking him off his feet. He caught up with the man, gripped him in a headlock, and held him there until he lost consciousness.

"That's two prisoners down," he said, surveying his handiwork. But he wan't done yet. Zombies were closing in. There was a wheelbarrow full of explosives and the enemy wanted it. Sen readied his blade as they inched toward him.