Fixing his eyes on the city looming overhead, Marcus stood on the lands that abut it; He remained in a hesitant manner. [i]Fate. Fate drove me to this city, I reckon. Yet, I don't know what it has in store for me; may it be misfortune and death?[/i] He asked himself, debating either to enter or turn on his heels and leave. He drew his Glock 18 from his poorly made, makeshift holster. He then began to walk forward, towards the run-down city. [i]No, I won't die,[/i] he reassured himself as the buildings began to tower over him. He kept telling himself that he wouldn't die, but he didn't know how he could be so certain.

His ascent was a slow and weary one. The ache of his legs hadn't settled in until now. After miles and miles of walking, he had felt nothing - or did he just not show it? He couldn't remember. All he knew now, was that he felt like he was going to collapse. Fear had never taken him on as hard as it had now, since the beginning. Even though he was from Detroit, he had it fixed in his mind that somehow this would be a worse area - and possibly more rich and profitable.

Continuing on the road into the city, he draw his pistol to a ready position, checking his surroundings. And to no avail; nothing he could see was of any threat. Sure, a walker or two was present. However, now that he would recall, he [i]Did[/i] hear a rumbling sound not that long ago; may it be the dead just hadn't spread back out? He wasn't certain, but was at least relieved. His Glock dropped back down to his side. [i]Might as well explore,[/i] he concluded.