Okay, okay, okay, this was not cool. Zombies? Taro could deal with zombies. In fact, it would be safe to say that Taro was raised up to deal with zombies thanks to the influx and overflow of undead that had appeared in film, tv, and games. He even had a plan if there ever was an outbreak, even though Taro was well aware that these days enough people were savvy enough to realize “yo, dude’s a zombie” and most outbreaks would be squashed in the early phases before they even got to apocalyptic, let alone even slightly dangerous, levels. Still, it was just fun to put a bug out bag together for the hell of it. So, yeah, Taro was A-OK with zombies.

But freaky Little Shop of Horrors plant monsters that burst out of zombies? No way. Fuck that.

Taro reeled back, a look of pure horror etched across his face, as the shell of a man lurched up off from the ground as vines began protruding from its body. A shriek of laughter erupted from a freaky flower on the freak’s neck. Taro’s heart was pounding against his chest like a jackhammer on asphalt as the horde responded to the shrill, crazy laughter as if it was a call to arms, every other one exploding into a mess of vines, goop, and shitty little smug flowers. A scream harmonized with the cackling laughter although it barely registered with Taro, who was too absorbed in his own well of fear to even think of the others. It wasn’t until Taro took a step back, tripped over a guitar, and landed on his rear that the pain running up his body briefly grounded him, giving him enough of a chance to catch the sight of their man getting dragged off by one of the vines. 

[i]Shit! There goes bitchtits! I thought Izuki was gonna watch him,[/i] he thought, rubbing his backside. [i]At least I didn’t crush his instrument.[/i]

However, right now Taro had more things to worry about than pushing blame on to the others for losing bitchtits. Namely, the gathering mass of laughing flowers, flailing tendrils, creepy dudes steadily pushing towards the rest of them. He raised up his compass from his spot on the ground and called for Bellerophon to come down fighting with his lighting, his spear, hell, he’d be fine if the goddamn horse just bucked up and kicked something in the face as long as it did something to thin out these gross plant people—shit, he’d take anything at this point. But he was too panicked to call down his persona, and the compass point spun like a top. 

[i]Shit, shit, shit. I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m—[/i]

A swathe of flames courtesy of Charon and Izuki burned through some of the creeping vine-men in front of Taro, giving him just the hot second he needed to catch his breath. Izuki was yelling at them to get a fucking move on, and it sounded like a sure enough plan to him. Jumping up to his feet, Taro grabbed his spear and, taking very little time to think about it, snagged the man’s guitar while he was at it. Taro may have rarely gone to class, but as a “music” major he knew that instruments were mega-expensive for most students (or at least those whose dad didn’t own a good part of the city). Slinging the instrument over his back Taro charged forward like some six-string samurai, smacking one of those creeps to the side with his spear. He practically slid on his feet past Izuki, beckoning towards the others to hurry the hell up and move their asses out of that deathtrap.  

[color=8dc73f]“Hold ‘em off,”[/color] he said to Izuki, despite the fact that she was already quite busy doing just that. He had noticed that the doors opened towards them, thankfully. [color=8dc73f]“I’ll find something to stop those vine pricks.”[/color]

Taro dipped into the nearest room without waiting for any confirmation or protest. Moments later, amongst the sounds of fighting and the shrieks of those flower jerks came a loud, thunderous bang accompanied by the sound of several small glass objects shattering. The scratch of metal dragging across tiles stung through the air like nails on a chalkboard as the door Taro had disappeared into was slowly pushed open by the top of a large metal medical cabinet. Huffs and grunts could be heard from the room as Taro, red in the face, emerged from the doorway with his oversized makeshift lock. With it he hoped to bar the door shut—after all the others had made it through, of course.

But shit was pushing this thing a pain in the ass.

[color=8dc73f]“I could, oof, use a, ergh, little bit of a, hrk, hand,”[/color] he said between panting breaths.