My band was setting up for our kick-off show of our tour. As the fans start to pile into The Masquerade, loads of zombies pile into the venue attacking numerous fans.
My band was setting up for our kick-off show of our tour. As the fans start to pile into The Masquerade, loads of zombies pile into the venue attacking numerous fans.
A smirk creases my lips, as I walk out of the asylum I had been locked in for so many years. The zombie outbreak had caused such a panic, all of the staff, doctors, therapists, even janitors, high-tailed it out of there. I heard music, followed by screams, and decided to follow it, why? I don't exactly know. I suppose, years of white walls and straitjackets left me craving more... excitement.
My arms were strapped behind my back by the white straitjacket. It didn't bother me, I continued to walk anyways. I could fend for myself, whether my arms were tied up or not.
My arms were strapped behind my back by the white straitjacket. It didn't bother me, I continued to walk anyways. I could fend for myself, whether my arms were tied up or not.
I run off of the stage and towards my tour bus. When I get in I make a sign signaling all survivors that my bus was safe. I sat in the drivers seat with my desert eagle in my hand awaiting a knock.
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