Rakdarian stood in front of a burned down house. His face was covered in soot and ashes, flecked with open cuts and bruises. In his hand was the handle of a stainless steel kitchen knife, most of the blade was gone. His clothing was a simple blood soaked shirt and a pair of shredded jeans. At his feet were the smoldering corpses of his family. He cried as he staired at the burning building, which was his home. It was dark out, nearby was a burned-out car. Beyond it was a mass of faceless, shuffling monsters, their arms outstretched. Each one bore bite-marks, burns, long slashes, or missing limbs. Rakdarain's tears cut small paths through the soot under his eyes as he turned to face them. They were worn. On the arm that didn't hold the knife bore a bloodied wound.
Rakdarian sobbed as he turned to run. The mob of creatures lunging toward him in a tide of decaying flesh. A low roar erupted from the mass of diseased creatures. The bite on his arm thrummed in response. A rush of energy erupted from the pulsating wound as he ran. The knife handle fell out of his hand as he sprinted through the monsters. Rakdarian let out a haunted laugh as he escaped the horde. There was a resounding crash and suddenly he was sitting in front of a smiling girl several years younger then him. She wore a torn dress with leather padding covering the shoulders, forearms, stomach and the sides of her legs. She held a .308 rifle that was almost as big as her while Rakdarian held a sawed off double barreled 12 gauge in his hands.
"I think it's time we parted ways Rak." She said sadly.
"But why? What did I do?" Rakdarian replied as she stood up.
"You're... Different. Everyone else knows it, and seeing you out there..." She trailed off.
"What? What did i do? I've always done my job. I've always protected the group. WHAT DID I DO!?"
"You scare the children. I appreciate what you did when you faced that Behemoth." She said as she absentmindly started filling up a magazine with ammo. "Personally, I admire you for it, but what I saw. You faced the monstrosity alone, with a rictus grin. You faced it alone. While the rest of us ran. An not only that but you tore it to shreds. That thing was almost 15 feet tall, and you ripped it apart. Without sustaining a single injury until you hit your head on the asphalt. We're afraid. I'm afraid. So I'm going to ask you one more time. Please leave. You were a good friend but you're too unstable to keep close."
Rakdarian sobbed as he turned to leave. Truth be told he didn't remember anything after the behemoth showed up. Only a flash of rage, then waking up to a head shattering headache. This worried him but he couldn't do much about it as he left the camp. Wary stares followed his path as he walked back into hell. Someone called out " Don't you dare come back you freak. I'll put a bullet in you!" As he exited.
Then he was standing in a drizzle as he stood against two others. One carried a small handgun and a machete. The guy wore dark composite armor as he stared into the hungry gazes of the creatures surrounding them. The kid to the right of Rakdarian, only slightly shorter than him held an Ak-47 in trembling hands. Rakdarian himself wore a leather duster, covered in nicks and bloodstains. In his hands was a drum-fed shotgun with camo paint. The barrel was cut short and was painted in light brown and tan camouflage. on their backs were satchels carrying things like extra ammo, food, and other necessities. Surrounding them was hundreds of the animated rotting corpses.
Rakdarian roared as he fired round after round into the approaching horde, litterally ripping the advance to pieces. The front line dropped like flies. Behind him the younger kid fired wildly into the advancing crowd. setting the creatures on fire. Far fewer dropped to the ground. The fire doing little other then just filling the air with thick black smoke and the smell of burned flesh. The third shot his Glock, precisely destroying the heads of any that got close.
This lasted a whole 45 seconds. Then the kid cursed as he ran out of ammo. And just like that. The mob ripped the kid apart. Seconds later the Glock jammed when a zombie made it past the whirling blade and sank it's rotted teeth into the flesh of middle aged man. After that the machete sank into the creature's spine and the blade wouldn't come out. After that the man foot hand to hand until he became overwhelmed.
Standing alone. Still surrounded by about 90 more of the living dead. Rakdarian looked at the crowds of zombies consuming his friends. His shotgun clicked as he ran out of shells. The creatures still lunged at him. Rakdarian threw his now empty shotgun to the ground and ran towards the machete. Rakdarain ripped the blade out of the fallen creatures neck and began hacking away at the remainders of the zombies. They surrounded him, grabbing at his coat. It tore away in strips as a wide grin tore its way across the blood soaked face of the beast that was beginning to show itself through his features. The tarnished blade whipped in arcs as one after another each creature fell into piles around him. Bites sunk into his flesh as he slaughtered anything that got close. The maniacal laughter could be heard over the groans of the monsters. When the last zombie fell. he looked around. The scene was a series of ripped apart people, the corpses of children, ripped apart men and women. Rakdarian stood over them, covered in bullet wounds and soaked in blood.
With a start, he awoke. The memories of his past tore at him. Tears streamed down his face as he remembered each and every single person he had killed. With a shuddering sob he looked into the dying flames. Darkness edged his vision as he fought the surge of guilt that swelled against him. "Don't think about it,"He thought. as the sun slowly came up over the horizon.