[u][b]Nicholas Grayeson[/b][/u]

[u][i]One Hour Ago.[/i][/u]

The shock wave from a nearby explosion woke the slightly intoxicated Grayeson, causing him to spill the half-empty bottle of Jameson from his lap. His pistol in hand, he quickly started surveying the room of his bare apartment for any signs of intruders. Maybe the nightmare of a previous combat tour and the alcohol tricked his mind into thinking there was an explosion nearby. When he felt nothing seemed out of place, he lowered himself to the couch he was laying on before. The nightmares were becoming more frequent it seemed, with every night replaying different gunfights with insurgents he either killed or narrowly missed. Taking in a deep breath, he placed his pistol on the table in front of him and stood up; making his way slowly to the kitchen for a glass of water. The radio near the window was buzzing, something about reports of an infection spreading throughout the city. He paid no mind to it, because the only lethal infections going around right now would be the flu or the virus ravaging Asia and Europe. Of course, there were rumors going around that there were some cases popping up in the United States, but they were rumors.

Grabbing a nearby glass, he filled it with water, and quickly gulped down the contents before turning back to the living room. Everything was in disarray as he left it upon returning home from the bar the previous night.  Looking down to his watch, he noted the time was late and it was actually two days after the bar, not one. He missed work two days in a row, there was no talking out of this one; even with the VA appointment excuse. Shrugging his shoulders, he took a seat and grabbed his phone off the coffee table to check for any missed messages. Nothing. Which was odd as his mother or grandfather usually called him every night to ensure he was alright. Clicking on his social media profile, it was immediately filled with accounts of the Asian/European infection had hit the city and there was a military quarantine in effect. 

[i][color=00aeef]"This can't be right...[/color][/i] he told himself.

Immediately, he clicked on his computer and searched for the local news to confirm this wasn't just some hoax or meme gone rogue. It too told the same story as his social media, claims of reanimated corpses terrorizing the streets and the National Guard issuing a quarantine order for the city. Just to be sure, he checked three other local news sources and eventually national news sources; all saying the exact same thing. Standing up suddenly, he started pacing around the room, contemplating how this must be a horrible dream that he hasn't woken from. It was impossible to have this occurring, zombies aren't real and never would be. This wasn't some Resident Evil or Left 4 Dead video game, this has to be a dream of sorts. Then another shock wave from another explosion erupted, this time a lot closer than the one he felt was a dream. Without a second thought, he rushed over to the nearby window and pushed through the blinds to see what lay outside. Chaos, fires, police and emergency lights, gunfire, and mobs of people running around. This was real... at least it seemed to be real at the moment till he woke up. But if he was stuck in this dream, he knew what would happen to those not prepped for this situation.  Then again... was he really prepared for a "Raccoon City" apocalypse in his world? Turning towards what appeared to be a military-grade container, locked under a padlock, he reached under his shirt and pulled out the key. Looking at the key, to the box, then back at the key; he took a deep breath and made his way over.

[u][i]Now[/i][/u]

Pulling back the charging handle and feeling the bolt ride back and forth in the chamber; he slowly squeezed the trigger till hearing a "click." Lowering the rifle to his couch, he reached down and drew his sidearm from its holster on his right leg. Ejecting the magazine and pulling the slide back, he slowly squeezed the trigger for the same "click" as his rifle gave. When it occurred, he slammed the magazine back inside the pistol and slid it back into the holster. Reaching over, he grabbed his old plate carrier from his time in the Marines and adjusted it to fit comfortably with his current attire. There is no adjusting equipment when in a sticky situation he recalled an old battle buddy saying before their HUMVEE took an RPG round. Sliding in the three full,30-round magazines for his rifle in their pouches on the front of the carrier; he picked up his rifle and slung it over his body. A single magazine of .223 Remington was left on the coffee table and all he could do was stare at it. If this is the real deal, he would be stepping back into a world he was all too familiar with. People would die and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. Shaking his head, he reached down and grabbed the lone magazine before inserting it into the rifle. Pulling the charging handle back, he listened and felt the round pop from the magazine and into the chamber. All he had to do now was switch it to "SEMI," aim, and fire at whatever he deemed a threat.  There were no Rules of Engagement now.

[i][color=00aeef]"Back into the Suck..."[/color][/i] he told himself, a phrase he always spoke before heading out the wire in a combat zone.

Making his way to the door, he grabbed the assault pack he placed there earlier, slung it onto his back and made his way out the door. Instantly, his military training kicked in and he raised his rifle to survey the hallway. Quietly and slowly, he closed the door behind him with his free hand. His eyes, never leaving from the hallway in front of him. Luckily for him, he lived at the very end of the hallway and had no one behind him to be of concern. Both hands on the rifle now, he slowly made his way down towards the intersection and paused for a moment to take a look. Everything seemed clear that was in all directions, no sounds or anything out of place it seemed. But he knew that at any moment, someone could bash through the door and try to take his life. Slowly checking his corners again, he took the left hallway and towards the staircase for the lobby on the first floor. The elevator was out of the question, because being packed like a sardine in a metal box spells trouble for everyone.

Upon reaching the staircase, he checked over the railing and saw there was still lights on downstairs; as well as voices from TVs and people below. Perhaps he wasn't the only one inside, which could be beneficial and not so beneficial to him surviving this whole thing. Beneficial because he could learn what he hadn't from the news, but no beneficial because a crowd is a problem when surviving. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs with his rifle trained in front of him in case he needed to use it. When reaching the bottom, he pressed his back against the wall and peered out from his hiding spot to learn the situation. People were praying, others watching the news, some holding their families, all of which made sense to him in the event of a disaster. When the bloodied police officer scrambled into the lobby, Nicholas knew situations outside were as bad as he thought. And if the police are having a hard time, that means the military is having a hard time fending the civilian populace as well. As his eyes kept searching the area, he watched as a small child ran into the lobby and towards what appeared to be a priest; all the while shrieking and covered in blood. Without hesitation, the officer lunged forward and bashed it with a crowbar; putting an end to its existence. Turning back to the staircase behind him and the small area he currently occupied, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly to relax his nerves. The child, though it wasn't anything like the children he had seen in the war, still reminded him of the small boy he shot dead when it picked up a rifle to shoot his fellow Marines.

[color=00aeef][i]"That was the past, you have to focus on the now."[/i][/color] he told himself.

His back still pressed against the wall between him and the lobby, he waited to see what would occur next. All he knew next was the flood of people rushing up the stairs next to him; none noticing he was even there. It was strange to think how common people are with cattle when spooked. When the pastor appeared, reciting one of the psalms he vaguely recalled; Nicholas slowly bled back into the shadows. As he turned to make his way back upstairs, he overhears the preacher calling out to the police sergeant about a problem. Looking into the lobby, he watched as the bloody corpse of a woman started twitching and more of the infected started flooding in. Without considering it, he immediately appeared in front of the priest like a ghost and flicked his rifle off SAFE. Slowly and smoothly, he squeezed off a single round into the head of the twitching female; which were quickly followed by eight more rounds to the knees of the others scrambling inside. 

[b][color=f7976a]"Start making your way upstairs Padre, I'll secure the lobby and barricade them from higher ground."[/color][/b] he quickly ordered to the holy man.