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Drake, frustrated at the evasion of the small person, follows him to see that he is leaping out of a trench and asking the medic to go with him. The outrageousness of asking a medic, whose job it is to care for the wounded, to leave the front lines spurs Drake into action.

Drake: "Let the medic care for the wounded. I'll go with. I must see the city for myself."

"There are other medics, and they have better technology than me."

She'd been taught by a dryad; her skills amounted to herbs, bandages, and the like. Surely the ADF had erected a medical bay of some kind, where they had more advanced stuff she had no idea how to use.

"I'm just an apprentice healer, really. And if you guys are going into that-" She gestured toward the city. "No way in hell am I not coming along."

"Who else's life am I risking? It's not like I'm pregnant," Owle protested, a little put off by this guy. She would follow Gabe towards the city...he seemed more trustworthy than the other two, somehow.

Tweak was the last to go. As if this were a bad movie he rubbed his hands together and smirked before almost merrily skipping off after Owle and Gabe. They were on the move towards the city now.

Now there was only the task of getting them to go the right way. He certainly did not want to end up in some zombie infested territory cause these people did not know their way around.

That would suck...

Saul was moving through the streets of the city at an insane pace. Peeking in windows, leaning in doors. Place was totally empty. Having no idea where he was, despite being surrounded by <******** identical houses in suburbia.

Though he wasn't alone, around the corner was a zombie. Well, not zombie. Whatever.

The thing looked like a body that had been found floating in a lake for three months. A body of some kind of athelete, because it moved pretty quick for being dead. Or whatever.

Saul levelled the Colt on the charging corpse, and too aim on one of the legs. Firing once, letting out the boom of gunfire which was likely to grab a lot of unfriendly attention. The beast took the .45 Long round in stride as it ripped through the left thigh and it kept running. Another.

BLAM

Two fired. The second ruining the knee of the charging baddie and forcing it to the ground. Determined sucker, though. It was pulling itself along the ground with it's arms.

Saul walked over to it, and put a third right in the head. Three rounds, one zombie. Or... Thingie. Whatever.

Smirking to himself in celebration, gloating over his first kill. Saul turned to walk away and stumbled. Sharp pain in his right calf, sharp enough to almost floor him.

Looking down to reveal three little needle-like protrusions from his pants. Darts?

Zombies don't use blowguns.

Not that they were darts, or from a zombie. Source unknown, the spikes were obviously from something mutated nearby. The sneaky b*****d.

Mostly in response to the unpleasant alien pain in his leg, Saul turned and angrily fired all three remaining rounds into what was left of the downed zombie's head. OR whatever. ******** undead are all alike.

What was left wasn't much too look at. An ambiguous smear of anonymous gore. Skull, soft tissue, grey matter, and blood. Reaching for his leg with his free hand, he pulled a pair of thin needles out of his leg. The wet feeling around his ankle told him that he was bleeding. Sort of the "no s**t" statement of the day, considering the needles were burried in a couple inches of muscle.

Staring at the small needles in the gloved palm of his hand, Saul noticed they looked kindof like hypodermic ******** then he realized, that he had just taken a shallow dive into deep s**t. Turning once more, Saul squeezed the trigger several times at the corpse's corpse.

Click, click click click, click.

Each for a pull of the trigger as the double action cycled through the chamber. Nothing but spent brass. Grave, Saul walked over to the stoop of a nearby abandoned house and took a seat on the first step. Resting his head in his hands.

"I'll give you twelve."

He responded to Tweak before shaking his head and starting forward, falling in line behind Drake. Now, while Drake seemed like the kind of person who he'd like to have on his side, Gabriel wasn't too sure what to make of the stranger. While he was the kind of person to go out of his way to help others, Gabe knew when to call it quits. Whoever this guy was, he obviously didn't. When would people learn that a dead hero was a hero that couldn't save anyone? The holier-than-thou approach was even starting to grate on Gabriel's nerves, and he wasn't even receiving the brunt of it.

He looked towards Owle, then shook his head, as if indicating that arguing wasn't the best thing to do at the moment.

"I couldn't tell."

He answered her question, all the while sweeping his rifle across the entrance to an alleyway. Who knew where those damned things would pop up from next?

"I just shoot 'em, miss."

He lowered the rifle, then kept moving forward. He wasn't going to make a push to take point, even if it made absolutely no sense that the guy with the close range weapon and one good eye was walking out in the open. Crazy suicidal, by Gabriel's standards. But, he'd gotten out of worse situations before.