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G-Man didn't really like this, or think it was particularly good idea. The whole secret weapon business really seemed too good to be true, and if it was true, then why not just let whoever already had it get rid of all of the undying? G didn't have a death wish. He was content to stay holed up in the mall until this whole thing was over. Just a few more days, right? That's what Guy had told them, though that could have just been just another rumor, just another untruth.

False hopes upon false hopes. He knew better than to believe in everything he heard. He might not look it, and he certainly didn't act it, but G-Man was not an idiot.

Out here in the open, he felt like nothing more than a sitting duck, waiting to be picked off by one of the shooters on the wall. If that wasn't bad enough, the other factions had to show up as well. Behind his mask, he scanned the crowds, looking towards one faction in particular, searching for one face in particular. A name. Her name. It was not a common one, and somebody from the prison said that there was a person by her name there. That was a hope that he could cling on to. It felt more tangible, more real. There was no reason for the person on the radio to have lied, or for Dasz to lie. Their mother, she was alive. She had to be. Out of everyone G-Man knew, if anybody could have survived, it would have been her.

And so it was these thoughts that ran through G's head when the first shots were fired. He had been distracted with his search, but those gun blasts that echoed through the air had brought his attention back, and he was about to move, about to find Dasz, and grab him, and try to keep him safe, when the world suddenly exploded around him.

He had landed on his back, hard, several feet, or maybe even a few meters away from where he had been standing. The wind was knocked out of him, his chest hurt and his lungs burning with a need for oxygen that was far too difficult to breathe in at the moment. His ears were ringing, and his whole body ached from the impact. His teeth were clenched as he rolled to his hands and knees. "Dasz?" He called out, but the sound of his voice was easily swallowed up by the multitude of other shouts, the gun fire, the sounds of fighting that rang out around him.

He pushed himself shakily to his feet, forced himself to stand straight, to look around, to turn.

"DAS---" His words cut off as something slammed into the back of his head, hard, sending him toppling back to the ground. His vision had gone dark red with a burst of sparks before his eyes, and he wasn't sure he'd ever known such pain as that which seared through every nerve in his scalp and down his spine.

But he wouldn't whimper. He wouldn't cry out. He had to stay strong. He just had to. He had to fight this, had to survive. His fingers clawed at the dirt beneath them as he pushed himself back to his hands and knees for a second time. He blinked rapidly, willing his head to clear, but it never fully did. His vision was blurred, his head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton. He was dizzy, and when he tried to focus, everything seemed to tilt, the ground beneath him unsteady.

It was enough to make his stomach heave, though he managed to swallow that down as well. He closed his eyes tight, grimaced, and struggled back to his feet.

He had to find his brother.

He'd heard the rumor, of course. It had swept through the prison with a sort of terrible, morbid interest, and Raffin was, unsurprisingly, extremely interest in this so-called weapon. He was not exactly a man who had a lot of physical prowess, and a weapon that could help him in fending off the damn creatures that surrounded him was something of high appeal. It was something to be said that he didn't necessarily get scared, but he did tend to get disgruntled at the times where he could not seem to make a difference. Everyone else in the prison seemed much more capable than he did, especially since the closest thing Raffin had to a weapon was his wit.

And it wasn't even that sharp.

Approximately four and a half minutes after the initial explosions, Raffin found himself crawling along the ground, debris scattered around him. Blood spattered just in front of him - a man fell, landing and rolling with a sickening thud, eyes seeing nothing anymore,and Raffin inched around him, trying to ignore the steady buzz in his ears. There was shouting - lots of it, and lots of bangs and booms that were probably from some sort of guns, and Raffin climbed unsteadily to his feet, pushing through the throngs of people, trying to push his way past the chaos, but something hit him in the head - hard, pain exploding behind his right eye. Shrapnel? Someone hitting him? He didn't know, couldn't tell from all of the madness.

Darkness settled. And some nurse was pressing a compress to his eye, which felt swollen and throbbed beneath her ministrations, Raffin making a little noise of annoyance in the back of his throat, and although his vision was watery and lacking depth in one eye, at least he wasn't completely blind. Overall, it could have been worse.

At least he wasn't dead.

Well, he'd gone. He'd gone and look what it had gotten him. A ********' broken arm. It was his left arm, as well, his dominant hand. Harvard grimaced and made a make-shift splint out of some broken pieces of wood and his scarf.

He was already here and already ******** up, so he might as well continue on.

People returned from the Junkyard or those who had radio had been transferring a rumor: Someone in zone one successfully killed an undying with a secret weapon. The mall rats were aroused, they were arguing about it. Some said they should go and get the weapon, some said it might be a trap or a false information, the two parties came into disputes, putting the peace of the mall to an end with the potential of the underlying dangers. The leader and his assistants had gathered all the mall rats at The Winchester, announcing that they would go to zone one all together.

Gretel agreed that it was a wise decision, at the moment the four faction were at a stalemate because of the similar strength. If one faction other than them had their hands on said weapon, the situation would overturned and it might give a breach for the infected. She noticed the difference of terms used, the slight deviation between infected and undying. They were two things as she observed.

Anyway, they moved, to the place once surrounded and blocked by vines like the castle of sleeping beauty. Although they were warned in advance the bandits there were extremely aggressive, when bullets flying back and forth, Gretel still startled at the scene she only saw in movies. "Grenade! Split!" Someone yelled and the mall rats dispersed like when a big cat appeared. Gretel only caught a small object flying their way and she ran away from it, just a few seconds later, an explosion behind her back dragged up dust and smokes. The sound of bullets shooting never cease, she wished she still had her headphones, the loud noises buzzed her head.

It was a battlefield, people fell and Gretel could hear her heart beat, a surge of adrenaline didn't help with the chaos. She smashed against the ground like a baseball player to dodge a sniper, quickly rolled behind a wall as the person in front of her wasn't quick enough in their response and shot down. She checked their uniforms and glad that it wasn't one of the mall rats. The Harbingers shot everyone not on their sides, without any weapon and the fact that she was starving, Gretel knew it was a peril.

She couldn't locate other mall rats or the leader, it was too smoky and messy. Just eased up for a second, a bullet brushed across her ear and the loud noise from the explosion right behind her made straight forward damage to her ears. They burned in agony and she grimaced painfully. The blood and noise had drawn the attention of the undying and infected. Luckily, the leaders did it, the bandits ceased fire. She stood up from squatting, covering her fragile ears from further attacks.

They buzzed and all the sounds seemed blurred, behind a thick full-length glass.

There was information on the way, talk of a group willing to share some gear with a faction. Just one. Getting in good with the Harbingers can mean a better fighting chance, it was an offer that was too good to pass up. To curry favor with them, meant trying to meet with them, as Justin put his jersey on and went out into the area. he wasn't the only one who made the move, as others from different areas came to the stomping grounds of the bandits.

The blonde bombshell didn't think they would use a force of strength, but he was proven wrong, ducking out of the way of a magazine of bullets fired into the group like fish in a barrel. gunfire moved into grenades, which he didnt think it was necessary, the concussive blow knocking him aside and striking him onto the sidewalk at an odd angle. firey pain shot through his arm like a needle, causing him to let out a cry and cradle the limb close. Standing around would only make him a target for another volley, ducking behind the broken buildings plaster and held in the screaming behind clenched teeth.

This is what he deserved, trying to ask favor from bandits who didnt care about human life, but desperate times meant desperate measures. He would hold a gun with his arm in a splint if he had to, to get them to choose the university.

The battlefield was smokey, hazy and he couldn't see well. He knew there was groans and moans of injured, of the undead. He hadn't come to the mission willingly. He liked the apartments, and he liked the safety they brought. Soon enough though, they were building into a group of people, a mob of people.

A riot of people.

the first grenade it hard and sent him flying back. He was smart enough to cover his head, but the ringing didn't stop and the pain....pain in his stomach. He laid in his spot motionless.

Eventually the ringing stops and he inches himself up, moving to rest his back on one of the abandoned cars. The undead are gone, and they were all quiet. How long had time gone?

he hurt so damn much.

"Eh Brie, October? Dr. SHOOOOOOO, I could use some assistance over here!?!??"

He's been wanting to take action for the longest ever since he's been here, but this wasn't what he had in mind.

The grenades were tossed, and there were explosions. So much that he wasn't able to get to Kaethus to protect him, and all he can see is him being blasted away before he was. "Gaah!!" What Aaron felt was a rock or something hitting his head, and he was knocked out for only what felt like a brief moment.

"Hnn . . . ?" Already, someone is telling him to get up and regroup. Opening his eye, his entire world is still spinning. "******** . . . make it all stop." He doesn't feel that he's bleeding, and he can move his arms and legs which is a good sign, but trying to get up was difficult. Aaron pushed himself up, and he puked all the contents in his stomach to the ground. "Ugh . . . need to find . . find Kaethus." ******** this regroup. He doesn't give a damn about that now because he has to find his brother.

Pushing himself up finally, standing on his two feet, Aaron tries to walk around and look for him, or hear. "KAETHUS!!" He called out for him, hoping so much that he's alive. Hearing his voice somewhere in the crowd, he looks around, trying to keep everything in his stomach and charges through. "I'm here! Kaethus I'm right here!!"