Bushwhacker huffed and puffed as he ran his way across the trash strewn parking lot just outside the giant casino he had been calling home for the last three weeks-Kevlar might have been the best for stopping bullets and zombie bites but it sure as hell made you work up a sweat. At least that's what a normal person would have thought, Bushwhacker though honestly just felt naked when not clad head to toe in his custom made black kevlar outfit-hell, he even still wore the full faced leather mask that was practically a heatstroke waiting to happen. 

In his mind though he felt great-the cool air coming in just off the river offering his tightly armored body a slight moment of relief. For the moment being his mind was focused souley on the task at hand. 

[i]HWACK[/i]

The sickening sound of steel cutting and crushing through bone rang out as he effortlessly dispatched a shambling corpse with what appeared to be a jet black medium sized (and abnormally thick) machete, the undead creature having gotten a little to close for comfort. He just had to finish setting his last charge and then he'd be set to run back inside and enjoy the show. Finally reaching the far end of the building he double checked to make sure the coast was clear before bending over and fiddling with a large coffee can sized tube. After a few minutes of playing with the odd object he took a step back to admire his handiwork-seemingly satisfied he ran off in the direction he had come, actually laughing along the way. The last months worth of work was about to pay off.

Mainstream media (what was left of it) would tell you that this absurd strain of Zombie Virus had originated a mere three weeks ago-but that was an utter fucking lie in the Bushwhackers mind. You see not only did this world renowned self made hero monitor the happenings in his own city like a hawk but likewise he made sure to keep tabs of the goings on around the world-after all as his father always said, shit rolls down hill. It was because of this maddening commitment to justice and safety that he had not only picked up the first reports of deranged group atackings occurring in both Southern Iraq and Israel but he had actually been able to follow the string of ensuing outbreak-the myriad of interconnected news stories about “enraged or insane mobs of people” having been somewhat easy to follow once he knew what he was looking for. On day two he knew this growing spread of violence was highly unlikely to be contained (even so he sent word to all the higher ups he knew government and military wise; both in the states and worldwide.)

Of all the contingency plans Bushwhacker had created (and he had created QUITE a few) none of them had ever factored in the possibility of undead zombie virus. The fact of which made him kick himself in the head most nights-after all if Blue Tessla could shoot lightning from his fucking hand why would it be so far fetched that a strain of virus might mutate enough to control corpses? It was just poor planning on his part.

Upon the realization and firm belief that he was witnessing the start of an outbreak the likes of which humanity had never seen Bushwhacker quickly went about using his vast resources to create a place that he believed would better whether the coming storm-he was quick to accept the fact that he would not be able to save everyone but like Noah in the old testament maybe he could save just enough. Maybe. 

He definitely couldn't do it without the help of other supers though-of that he had become painfully aware as he poured his heart and soul into the various mathematical algorithms and theorems he had come up with in the ensuing day-of which all the results pointed to the fact that without help from certain “X factors” the community of survivors he envisioned was unsustainable. It was because of that reason he had found himself out front of his Casino and hotel resort at 10:30PM during an all to real zombie apocalypse-but if he didn't finish what he had come out here to do there absolutely 0 chance of hope for the city-maybe even humanity. 

Luckily Bushwhacker, who for all intents and purposes was in actuality a completely and utterly normal human, was able to reach his desired destination without anymore trouble. Reaching the opposite end of the building from where he had left his coffee can like explosive charge the Bushwhacker quickly clambered over a guard rail onto what resembled an old dirty window cleaning unit; the ancient invention resembling a railed in catwalk with four large safety cables connected to the roof that allowed him to enter and exit his safe haven without opening any ground doors-a very useful tool when some of those undead bastards could run at you faster then an Olympic runner.

Quickly getting back to his feet The Bushwhacker wasted no time in operating the little panel that stood up to about his chest-the simple buttons and levers allowing the window cleaning unit to move not only up and down but side to side as well. Recently he had been coming and going from what he had designated as the “exit room” which was in actuality an old hotel room on the third floor-Reversing the way the door opened and locked followed by quickly smashing the window out was all it took to turn it into a rather effective entry and exit way. From what he had seen so far even the fastest of zombies, the type that contained a minuscule amount of power when compared to the real Blur, could at best only take a running jump that would more often then not wind up with them simply bashing their brains in against the second story riot glass windows.

“[i]vaaaa-riiiiiiiiiiii[/i]” The sturdy catwalk unit squealed to life as Bushwhacker wheeled himself upwards on the lowest control setting-the faster he went the louder the lift sounded which meant more zombies coming to investigate the noise; because of that reasoning he never went above “2” on the speed dial. Instead of getting off at the broken window that lead to the third floor of his hotel Bushwhacker continued to work the controls upwards-he was hell bent on getting a good seat for the show.

After a few minutes of patiently climbing skyward in his mechanical lift Bushwhacker reached the roof of the building as the lift he rode in snugly found its way into the company approved safety harness, locking into place with a loud metallic “[i]Ca-[/i][b]LUNK[/b]”

Of all the places in the massive Casino he called home this one by far had the best view of the City: from the top of the sprawling twenty story building he could make out the entirety of the vast manufacturing district to the North and the oddly creepy empty theme park to the East-just down the river he could make out what had been a rival casino, the massive building resembling an old world steamboat. All things considered it was a fairly good spot to take shelter, not only were they a good stones throw away from any major suburban area but the surrounding manufacturing district provided ample supplies for both survival and maintenance.

Laying down on the cold metallic surface (which he totally couldn't feel beneath his costume) the Bushwhacker stared up into the sky; momentarily admiring the view of an unobstructed starlight sky. It was the type of beautiful sight that made one pause and recollect; Bushwhacker often coming to the conclusion that Earth was probably better off full of zombies then humans. Tearing himself away from this dangerous train of thought he pulled what looked like a garage door opener out from the confines of the jet black utility belt strapped to his waste.

With the flick of a button the quite night erupted in a somewhat audible 'put put put put' sound as all the charges Bushwhacker had meticulously laid for the past hour set off simultaneously-the result of his homemade detonator. 

[u][i][b]“ALIVE INSIDE! SAFE COMMUNITY!”[/b][/i][/u] The words filled the air in a sparkling display of red and blue explosions, as the words started to fade another volley of makeshift fireworks filled the air exploding into a giant green emerald arrow that pointed downwards towards the casino. Now all he had to do was wait and hopefully a handful of other enhanced individuals would see his message and make their way here; after all there wasn't much left of the city, he figured whoever did see his little message would inevitably make their way here-super or otherwise.

As he watched the green emerald arrow fade away into the night sky he felt no joy or success-instead all he could think about were the events that had unfolded in the past month, the maddening memories flashing through his mind like an old back and white film:

Like most civilians around the globe the people of Kansas City had been extremely slow to react to the vast reports of both infectious outbreaks and mass rioting spreading across Europe and Africa-like many they had believed themselves to be safe within the isolated bubble that was America. Usually this would have been the case; only it turned out this new newfangled strain of virus seemed to be crossing mountains and oceans with little to no effort-a problem only compounded by the interwoven airlines worldwide. It was by sheer paranoia and the way Bushwhacker monitored world news that he had gotten whiff of what was happening in time to do anything about it-and even his normally well crafted plans crumbled within weeks.

But now he had a new plan, and this time things would be different. He'd make sure of it.