Alright. I have enough people for now. People can still join if they want to. In fact, I'd like more people to join. Also - Storm, you can't post until you change your character, but I'll give you your setting anyway. I'm going to post character settings in different blocks.

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Chapter one - The Heartland

Jessie, Avery and Johann

You three are riding in a school bus that looks like it's been through a war-zone - most of the paint has been torn off and the number of dents in the body is in the double digits. There's also a tail light missing. You're with a group of five other humans, including the driver. You three have both obviously at least noticed each other. The five others are all the typical face of American disenfranchised people - Vietnam protesting, long haired, dirty, grimy, terrible gremlins. Fashionably, they look fresh out of the sixties as they continue to ride the crest of the wave that carried them so far before You've overheard small discussions between them about how this is definitive proof that the government has ruined everything in America.

You've been on the road for several days. You've come from Wisconsin and presently you're in Iowa - a very, very rural part. In fact, for the past fifty miles, you've seen nothing but corn. Your survival group was being stalked by a group of mutants in jeeps, but in the past six hours, you seem to have been able to get away from them. Presently, the time is 12:37 AM - you have no idea what the date is at this point.

Everyone is on edge and shaky, it seems. Presently, there's an eerie silence in the bus as everyone watches the corn fly by. Half of the group doesn't even have weapons, and the other half probably couldn't fight right now anyway. The corn continues to flash by, along with a quick image of an incredibly detailed scarecrow. Most everyone in the group who's at least remotely aware of what's going on sees a road sign that says, "Fort Atkinson - 14 miles"

The driver who hasn't told anyone his name announces, "We'll be stopping there to refuel and take a small break. It's a small town... seems to be a lot safer from what I've noticed."

Everyone's spirits seem to lighten at the thought of that, and time seems to pass just a little bit faster with a calm settling in. People seem to start to make small talk.

There's an interruption. A loud one. One person yells, "Oh fuck!" As everyone sees one beaten up Jeep Renegade with its roof torn off emerge from the stalks of corn, jumping out in front of the bus with four grinning, ugly mutations occupying the seats. They all seem to be wearing clothes they nicked from various bodies. One seems to be wearing tye-dye and sandles while another is wearing full on military cameo. They all have automatic rifles.

A second jeep emerges directly behind the bus from the field of corn on the opposite side of the highway. Three of the creatures occupy this vehicle with the same evil smirks, laughing. These three are all wearing farmer's flannel and blue, torn up Levis. They seem to be carrying handguns and AK-74s. One opens fire on the back door of the bus, breaking the glass and damaging the hinge of the doorway. The group screams and ducks down, having no clue as to what to do.

You never got away from them.

Derek

You're riding with your two friends in a Volkswagen Beetle and you three have been driving since 6:00 AM from Denver, Colorado. Somehow you three ended up in this god forsaken Iowa town, Fort Atkinson. It's rather small, probably only having a population of 1,000. Obviously it's a farmer's town.

Your friend has been careful to kill the headlights of the car as to not attract any attention of any leftover mutants in the town. It seems somewhat abandoned, but there are always beasts hiding in the shadows.

From what you can see, most of the buildings are boarded up or broken into, although some to have managed to survive the breakdown. This town is an example of how the infection hit everything. Not just the big, populated areas.

Your friend, David, who's driving shivers a bit and says to both of you, "This place scares the fuck out of me. We're low on gas and food, so I need to find a shop around here." He sighs a bit and keeps driving through the streets.

Eventually, your other friend, Josh, points out a station and you pull in, turning off the car. The station itself looks like it's been ransacked with all the windows broken apart, the door broken down. David looks outside the car, checking everywhere for any sign of those things that seem to be occupying every place you go these days, and finds nothing. He takes a deep breath, grabs the black pistol he picked up off the body of a dead cop and gets out as fast as he can, Josh following suite with a crow bar in his hand, staying close to David, especially since it's very difficult to see on this night.

Derek gripped the leather around the base of his metal baseball bat as he scooted down in his seat, his heart beating faster by the instant. He bit his lower lip, his breathing becoming a bit irregular. This happened quite often, at least every time he entered a new town. Buildings were the worst enemy of a survivor. In each little building, there could be hundreds of Mutants, just camping and waiting for fresh meat. It was this battle, man vs. mutant, that Derek had been fighting for quite some time. However, it never seemed like it was going anywhere, except of course, downhill for the survivors.

He sat up, and scanned the area, a rural town in Iowa, was what the ruins told him, at the very least. Boarded up house, broken down establishments, windows broken down, bullet holes and destruction all around. His eye caught a teddy bear, laying on a bench at a bus stop. It had an eye missing, seems on his stomach coming apart, stitching flowing back and fourth in the subtle wind that caressed it. He looked back forward, his fingers tapping on the larger circular metal stopper that went under the bottom of the bottom hand that was gripping the bat, much like a blade. He sighed, looking up to the skies, why couldn't he of just follow Jimi Hendrix and the Beatles like he had planned to do once he had gotten out of high school. Instead, he was fighting mutants, like something out of the Twilight Zone. Of course, those weren't the only bands he liked. Derek also enjoyed Elvis Presly and The Rolling Stones, and even The Temptations, for a couple of their songs.

David spoke up and Derek looked out of the corner of his eye at him as his head rested on the top part of the headrest. He picked his head up, and nodded, "Yeah, not really the grooviest vibes I've ever felt." He said, throwing in a slang he had picked up from school. Derek wasn't a particular part of the counterculture. He felt they were going in the right direction, but most got sidetracked with the sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll part. A world of love right now, would be perfect, Derek thought. It was funny though, one of the first to go were hippies. The whole not fighting thing really came a problem when they were watching their friends get their heads bit off.

John tapped both David and Derek on the shoulder, thus ending this playful little thought, when he pointed out a shop to get gas in. David and John got out in a hurry. Derek gripped his bat, and without making a sound, he got out and shut his door quietly, following them inside. Staying alone at night was suicide.

Derek

As you get out of the car, you see your friends looking in all directions constantly. They're extremely nervous at this point. Josh looks ready to cry. A bat flies overheard and echoes through the night sky. The echoes dissipate and once again, there is only silence. Seconds seem to turn into minutes as time starts to pass twice as slow. David begins to sweat and grip his hand gun.

Finally, the click of the gas nozzle provides release as the tank is now full. Your two friends let out two small breaths that they were holding in. Josh whispers to both of you, "Alright, we need to go inside and get food." David nods in agreement, but not before doing a double take behind him to make sure that noise he heard wasn't the foot steps of a mutant.

Nothing.

The two begin to walk towards the station with David taking the lead. Of course. The guy with the gun always goes first. Basic survival, it seems. You notice that parked upfront by the station is a 1958 Oldsmobile 98. Normally that wouldn't be significant, but here that could mean that inside is either a person with similar ideas and needs as your group, or he could be another one of those creatures who owns a car. Either way, it's something of note.

It's all so strange. A year ago, people flowed through life without a care, worrying more about their next hit or the band that was playing that they wanted to see. Now, everything's changed. Even the smallest thing, like going into a gas station to nick some food is a major event that could be life threatening.

Your friends walk through the doorway of the store and stop dead and their tracks. Even in the dark you can see them turn pale. In fact, Josh turns to the side and gags, spewing vomit onto the pavement. David calls to you with a studder, saying, "D-Derek, you should come here, ugh..."

He can hardly finish his sentence.

Derek gripped his bat and held it up in a stance that made him look like he was ready to smack a ball away, a batter stepped up to plate. His toes tapped in his feet in nervous habit as he searched to see anything that looked like a mutant. His foot stepped back slighly, as his grip loosened, and he looked around, standing up slight further. Nothing, from what he could see.

And then a clang.

A sound from a bat echoing throughout the night sky. Derek jumped, and then instantly got back into position, his grip tightening in nervousness and his breathing once again, became ecstatic, sweat coming across his brow and going down his face, in one single, salty drop. It got to his mouth, the little drop resting on his lip until he licked it off, to get it to stop bugging him. The gas filled up, the click coming from the tank to show it's full. A sigh of relief came in the form of air being released out of the right side of Derek's mouth, and the release of grip from his bat. He nodded in agreement with the whisper from John, and as the others walked on, he walked backward, scanning the land behind them. In his peripheral vision he came across the car. The arm holding the bat drops to his side as he walks up to the car, taking a peek inside the mirror. To his suprise, a body, with the skin torn off, and the eyes pulled out, only the eye sockets left. He instantly stepped back, feeling the power from his legs leave him and he tripped on his heel, falling on his back, the bat clanging on the concrete as he did.

Derek heard his name being called out, and so he looked over, to see John vomiting. Seeing this, Derek feels something rise up his esophogas. He hits his chest with the back of his fist, and runs over to the car to get a small canteen of water under his seat, taking the last bit of drink he had left to keep his lunch. Who knows when they would eat again. He put it in his seat, his bat still in his right hand. He looked back to the others, and walked up slowly, terrified of what awaited him.

Derek

Both of your friends turn around immediately when they hear the metal connect loudly with the concrete, making a loud PING sound. Their eyes widen when they realize that you could have alerted all the mutants in this broken down place to where you were.

They quickly seem to forget about that, though, as they turn back around to view the apparently very horrible sight in shock and awe, not even bothering to ask you if you're alright.

You slowly walk up and stand in between them to see the floors splattered with tracks of blood. The tracks, as your eyes follow, lead up to an even more gruesome sight than what you found in the car. You see the clerk nailed to the counter by her hands and feet. She was stripped naked and you can see chunks of her body bitten away all over. She's covered in blood. It's then you notice that barbed wire is wrapped up her body and shoved into her mouth.

They didn't just want to kill this woman. They wanted to make her go through hell and feel pain worse than anything any human could ever imagine. As the three of you look at her, you notice her eyes are still open. Her nose lets out a small amount of air and blow flows from her mouth.

She's still alive, breathing. You notice that her eyes are yellowing - a definite sign of mutation. You see horrible, puss filled boils forming on her skin; you see the same puss flow out of every bite mark she has. This atrocity happened two hours ago at the most.

"Oh fuck, oh holy shit... She's still alive... She's still alive! What do we do?!" David yells, starting to have a panic attack, traumatized. Josh is simply frozen with fear and sickness at the sight of this.

Before anyone can take action, the three of you hear footsteps from outside. Heavy ones, like that of steel toe boots. David and Josh turn around to see a man wearing a bloody black and white business suit with a trench coat over it - he's carrying a .45 colt revolver. David, with his shaky hand, fires two shots and completely misses the man. He charges now and nearly runs into you three, whipping the gun out of your friend's hand and kicking it to the side. You can see now, up close, that the man stands at 6'4" with a frame built on lean muscle, has his jet black hair tied back and with his business suit, looks nothing like a man of his era. He grabs Josh's crow bar before he's attacked and says, "Stop! I'm human, like you. Not infected." He looks at you with his clear, healthy, green eyes and you can tell he's telling the truth. David and Josh simply start to break down, hyperventilating, sweating, tears falling.

Jessie seemed to stand up as if the bus wasn't even moving. He braced himself and started on a bee line for the front of the bus, putting a hand on the driver's shoulder. "Friend, I think it best if y'just keep on drivin'!" He shouted over the screaming of the people, the squawks of the mutants and the revving of the motors. A rural smile upon his face matched the corn stalks that surrounded them. He wasted no time afterword, however, in pulling out his most reliable asset at the moment. The Colt .45 seemed to glow unnaturally as he readied the handgun for fire, loading it up and leaning against the back of the driver's seat. "Step on it, if you aren't already. Everyone else, brace yourselves!"

His identity and gun had been kept a secret until the current, when he felt it was finally needed. "Any'a you lot got a weapon, I'm suggestin' y'be usin' it now. I can't guarantee I'll be killin'em all, or any for that matter." From his past experience with the mutation, he noted that the mutants were far stronger than any humans. Exactly how far this "evolution" had taken them as far protection or survivability, was unknown. But he knew that they couldn't survive a bullet in the head. A few years in the service, accompanied by qualification for the air force guaranteed Jessie's eyes were finer than gold. He turned around and ducked behind the drivers seat, poking up his head only enough to speak once more. "They're ugly, mean and sure as hell ain't as smart as you'n'I, but they might'a just given us a good plan t'get outta here alive. The bus is seated high enough that we can see above the corn stalks, y'see. We should go through the corn to avoid crashin' in't'em, and windin' up a bloody mess for them to feast on. Now, I know this thing ain't turnin' on a dime, so you best hurry up now."

He turned once again, breaking away from the conversation and slowly making his way further back in to the bus, using the seats as cover and supports to stop himself from falling. He felt his feet slip, and thank the Lord for it, he also felt the wind carry just above his head. The wind that follows a bullet, that is. He left the navigation up to the driver now, and decided it was his job to deal with the tailing mutants. His gun was certainly not steady while he kneeled on a seat, in a bus, on a bumpy road. It was all he had, however. So he aimed his gun at the head of the mutant driving the Jeep while staying a few seats back, prayed to the Lord, and squinted his eyes as he fired a round off. In that split second, time seemed to stop as he awaited anxiously for the mutant, or one of the mutants in general, to just keel over.

The screaming of passengers, the roaring cries of the abominable mutants, the revving of engines. Yep, just another day in Hell. Prior to being made fully alert of the threat the enemies possessed, "John" had merely been half-asleep by the time the sign for whatever this "Fort Atkinson" place was to the Americans. One of the passengers had made themselves clear to be able to keep a level-head, something he denoted as coming from some sort of military experience, vague memories of his Papa returning home to his proud Frau of fifteen years.

As the obnoxiously loud youngster and his thick, almost disgustingly thick accent had pointed out their adversaries less-than-striking intelligence past the basic cognitive functions, a bullet should hopefully kill them. That is, if depth perception, Johann's old nemesis didn't rear its grotesque head in laughter at his decrepit hand raising the antique Luger that had saved his life once before, back when he and the Americans were sworn enemies.

The prayer came low, his practiced "American" accent fading away as it was replaced with a thicker, more slavic accent. English mixed with German, "Mein Gott, vatch ovher this pitiful lahmb", and the bullet was loosed from its chamber. The loud tremulous bang followed by the faint smell of powder filling the older man's head of memories he sometimes wished were best forgotten.

Derek's steps slowed, to a dead stop as he stood behind the others. He looked her up and down, intently, wondering what sort of beast would wish this kind of pain on someone. Derek took a step forward, pushing past the others to get a better glimpse of the hell on earth that was this room. The putrid stench of flesh rot and iron from blood loss filled his nostrols, and settled in his lungs. The air was somewhat humid, making the smell sit stagnant in the air, making it almost palatable. He felt his nostral hairs burn, and his mouth twitched. A flicker of life came from the girl, a breath of life still in her. Her eyes, however, portrayed her true state, cursed. David started to yell, and Derek turned back, biting his bottom lip, in thought, his eyes flicking back and forth, morality over survival. Derek was about answer when he heard foot steps come from behind them. He looked up to see a large man walking forward upon them. David fired shots, and the man spritned forward, knocking the gun out of his hand. While the others started to hyperventilate, Derek felt himself shiver from goosebumps. He coughed slightly, the breathing for some reason harder in the room he was in. It was odd, but hadn't thought the man was going to attack them. Derek felt he didn't really look like a mutant, but, of course, it was hard to tell somtimes.

Derek stepped forward, slipping the bat in his hands on his belt, and picking up the gun on the ground, holding it away from everyone, pointed to the ground. "Are you the only survivor?" He asked the man, looking him up and down. He definitely wasn't from around here, that much was obvious. A man of this stature, and still alive, had to be of higher standing than a normal civilian. So, with that in mind, he decided to say it. "...Come to think of it, you're not really from around here, are you? Someone with your build, has to be involved with some kind of group." He said, and then suddenly the images of the girl flashed back in his head. Derek turned, going back into the room, gun in hand.

"You can tell me as I take care of this." Derek said, lifting up the gun to the girl. He bit him bottom lip, sniffing, trying to hold back any humanity he had. However, with his stance, and the jittering of metal from the gun, it was apparent Derek had no want to do kill this woman. He was only doing what he needed to survive, he told himself. He pulled down the hammer of the gun, putting his finger against the trigger. "Besides, I'm putting her out of her misery." He told himself that as well, as his whole body shook. He waited for an objection, before he pulled the trigger.

Avery was flung from his seat into the floor of the wrecked vehicle, hitting his head on the way down. "Just when I thought shit was calming down," he growled to himself as he struggled to lift himself up. The crazy maneuvering the driver was having to do in order to avoid the gun fire was enough to make a person with a cast-iron stomach lose his lunch. He began to peer over the seats, seeing that the vehicle in the back was being taken care of he decided to focus his attention on the mutant infested vehicle in front of them.

He ducked down low enough to stay out of the line of fire, yet high enough to navigate towards the front. He took cover behind the driver seat. "Alright old man," he exclaimed to the driver, "you better start drivin' this piece of shit through the field if you plan on losin' these bastards!"

He took another look towards the back to see how the two in the back were holding up against the mutant mobile that was tailing them. Seeing that they were holding up alright he quickly jumped up into the aisle of the bus and looked for a spot to shoot and aimed at their tires. He shot at the left rear tire with only one intention; Stop them at any costs.

Jessie, Johann & Avery

Jessie
The driver was able to keep his sanity in a situation like this. You weren't dead, anyway. When he heard the suggestion to drive through the corn, he replied with a loud shout, yelling, "Aye!" He makes an attempt to turn off the road and into the fields, but the mutants in front of him make an effort to stay directly in front of the bus. If they were to actually collide at this speed, with all the survivors on the floor panicking, the results could be catastrophic. He tries to stay in complete control of the beast he's driving, letting out an audible grunt every now and then.

The mutants from the back continued to fire, hitting the back lights or hitting the metal frame. They lost their accuracy as the bus tried to turn off the highway.

What they weren't prepared for were two powerful handguns firing back at them. One from you, another from a curiously older, obviously German man. As you pull the trigger, your line of fire is messed up, as you hit the front passenger instead of the driver. You don't hit him in the head, but the powerful shot goes straight through his shoulder blade, shattering it and making him scream in agony as he drops his weapon, his arm quickly becoming a bloody mess.

Johann

The chaos around you quickly brings horrible nostalgia of the battlefields you have witnessed before. Most people that were put under pressure seemed to roll on the floor and squirm like diseased dogs.

You go to the back along with the other thick-accented, American fellow, carrying the same ideas with you. He fires his weapon first, a very loud Colt. 45. It makes contact with one of the mutants, although not the one he was aiming for. The beats don't like that. Not one bit.

They slam the gas pedal into the floor, ramming the front end of their jeep into the rear end of the bus, causing most everyone to lose any balance they had as a result of the shock. They scream again unanimously, afraid that at any moment they would die. As you lose balance and fire your luger, it accidentally hits their front left headlight, shattering it. However, now you're thrown on to the floor, along with the American who fired the first bullet.

Avery

The screams of the others continued to fill the air as they were rendered helpless - taking no hint of advice from anyone, caught in their own personal hells. It seems the only people able to continue to be level headed were also the only people with guns. Just as the mutants in front of the bus were all ready to take aim and fire through the windshield and into the driver's skull, you begin to fire your weapon. You miss as you spray bullets at the vehicle, the beasts beginning to swerve to taunt you, almost laughing. Just as they continue to swerve, firing off rounds, several of the many bullets you fired come into contact with the windshield, causing glass to shatter into the driver's mutated face. he screeches as he looses all control.

They drive themselves into the cornstalks on the left side of the highway, softening the blow. Still, one passenger manages to crack his head and shatter his skull apart when it impacts with one of the frame bars holding the jeep together. The driver quickly attempts to back the jeep out of the corn, to no avail. They roar at the bus as it drives away with the remaining jeep in hot pursuit.

With no jeep in front of him, the bus driver makes a quick, 145 degree turn, driving at a diagnal angle through a barbed wire fence and deep into the stalks of corn. Everyone but the driver himself was thrown to the other side of the yellow behemoth. The upper part of the windows reach past the stalks of corn, and you could still see the highway if you looked through it.

Several of the survivors make an attempt at standing up, one clutching his stomach in pain as it collided with one of the bars holding his seat in place. They all fall back down as the bus accelerates again, mowing down entire rows corn. Behind them, the jeep quickly drives into the field, gunshots fired through the crop missing. They quickly speed up, attempting to ram the bus again. Thanks to the bus driver's clever maneuvering, they fail, but just barely.

The driver himself says, "I can see houses! We're close to that town, hold on to something everyone!"

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Venge

Before the black haired man could answer any of Derek's questions, the boy wandered back to the girl, gun in hand. It was quite obvious that he had never done this sort of thing before and that he was quite scared. Just another innocent victim of circumstance. The man approached the shaking boy and gently pulled the gun away from him, sighing and releasing the hammer back to its original position. He looked the shaking survivor in the eye and asked him, "You've never done this before, have you? No... don't shoot her. We've already made too much noise that could alert those beasts that thrive in the darkness."

Without warning, the man looked back at the infected girl and put two leather glove covered hands around her neck, snapping it in a silent, swift motion, causing her head to limply fall to the side.

David and Josh cringe at the snapping pop her neck makes as it breaks and Josh whispers to him in an angry, spiteful tone, "You son of a bitch... How could you do that to her?"

With steely eyes, the tall man looks back at Josh, simply shaking his head quietly. He puts the pistol away, into a holster on the left side of his pants, sighing, "It's obvious none of you are fit to use a gun. It won't protect you if you're too shaky to hit anything."

Untying his pony-tail, letting down his black hair and looking back at Derek, he continues, "To answer your questions, no, I am not from around here. I'm an FBI agent - name's Skye Barton. I was sent on a mission to track down a mutant who goes by the name Shavo Malakian. He's seen as a religious leader of these beasts, and is known to do things like this with other mutants in twisted, sadistic rituals to make any non-mutation suffer."

Sky stops for a moment before looking at Derek pensively, in almost suspicious manner. He does the same thing to the other two sooner after. "Let me ask you three something..." he looks down and then makes eye contact with you, "...What are three kids like yourself doing in rural Iowa, right now when there are these beasts everywhere? Why here?"

It seems neither of your friends can find the words to explain themselves and before you can, all four of you hear the sounds loud, speeding motors in the distance coming towards you at an alarming speed. The sound of chaos echoes through the air. Skye grips his Colt tighter and says to the three of you, "So much for not alerting the remaining creatures in this town. Get ready..."

The sounds only get closer.

Derek was close to pulling the trigger, but never close enough to actually pulling it. His hands trembled, not really sure if it was from the sight in front of him, or from taking a life. A cursed life of course, but life non the less. Derek, however, with the knowledge that this woman could potentially kill them, couldn't bring himself to shoot. The man took the gun away from him, and yet Derek's hands seemed to stay in place, for reason he couldn't place, maybe put in stasis from fear. As the man snapped the girls neck, he felt his arms drop to his sides, his arms feeling like they weighed a ton. The others yelled at the man, but Derek knew the real truth. It was kill or be killed now, that much was obvious. He just hoped his salvation wouldn't be tampered from these beasts.

Derek sighed in relief, thankful that he didn't have to use it. He put his hand to his face, and ran it down slowly, letting his head roll back once the hand went off his chin. He shook his head, this was getting a little heavy, even for him. Derek felt like he had to sit down, the weight on his legs almost to much to bare. He pulled the closest thing to a chair up next to him and sat down, taking the bat from his belt and placing it between his two legs. He stared at the ground as the man answered his questions. Once he said he was an FBI agent, Derek looked up to him, as if he needed to confirm it by looking at the man for it to register. He almost gritted his teeth and got up and gave the FBI agent a piece of his mind, for letting this mutant outbreak happen, but derek shook his head, the man wasn't what caused this, it would make no use yelling at him. Even with these thoughts in mind, he kept his gaze on Skye as he continued to talk, explaining his mission in the little town.

Then came the questions from him. It was a legitimate question, they were pretty suspicious, especially if this was a place the government was interested in. He scratched the back of his head, he sure could use a smoke right now, he thought. Derek tapped his foot on the ground for a second, trying to push all this other crap that had just happened out of his mind so he could think clearly. His strong will, helping out once again, he began to speak. "We're just three high school students from Denver who found themselves immersed in a would they had little hope in surviving in. So, we packed up in David's mom's Beetle, and began to drive. The reason we stopped here?" He said, sitting back slightly, sighing, "Just needed some gas and food. Guess we got into a bit more than we bargained for." Derek looked over to the FBI agent, "That answer your question, agent?" He said, the blaring of horns and gunshots getting closer. He looked over the doorway, and stood up, grabbing his bat. He held it up, and rested it on his shoulder. His left hand sliding into his pocket.

Looks like it was time to finally start the fight.

Avery stood up behind the driver and looked onward towards the town coming up in the horizon. "Great," he said as he turned around and saw the other jeep barely miss them. He looked back to the other two who were already preoccupied with the jeep. Seeing that they weren't succeeding too well in disabling the vehicle he stumbled towards the back, the bus crazy driving antics not helping him. Before he could make it to the back he was flung to the floor and skidded to the end of the bus, hitting it with a loud thud.

"God damnit," he grumbled as he saw the other two still firing at the jeep. "So, you guys need a hand?" He exclaimed over the gun fire and crawled back a few seats in order to get a better shot and aimed at the driver of the jeep, joining the other two in their attempts to stop them.