Adieu

-----Fleur's Perspective----

The long-awaited day has finally come! I and Venice packed all the necessary things needed upon rescuing my dear comrades, who're all trapped inside St. Patrick's Chapel. The .44 Magnum had also been handed over by Paul himself as a 'Commemoration' upon joining the hunt and rescue squad, managed by the group of Venice. Joining the force was all just a quandary among the options laid out; "If you want us to save your friends you need to be affiliated first with our forces! It means that you'll be a temporary member of the emergency pursuits with the help of the few military personnel in my battalion. Of course, all weaponries and such will be provided as well; nonetheless, your sweet magnum. How 'bout it?"—Paul said.

Only a stupid person would probably accept the old man's offer. Then again, I was a fool and took the shining revolver resting on the palms of Paul, and here I am regretting my decision.

I, Venice, and some random guy named Trevor (the helicopter pilot) will be the only one's present inside the chopper readied by the commander. He said that we also need to scout the whole terrain of the city and save other citizens trapped along the way.

Riding a chopper was a wild experience, to begin with. And don't get me started about skydiving! Before the actual operation, we were tasked to form a practise drive for us to be familiarised from the said matter. Well, the training itself was reserved especially for me; continuing the hard earned experience from the shooting range awhile back.

It was decided that our weapons will include grenades, assault rifles, C4's and cable wires for…god knows what. I ain't in charge for the supply and demands so leave me from these logistics, will you, please?

"Are you good to go?" It was my last reminder before diving towards the undying abyss.

"All good, Venice" I uttered, a little bit shaky, but nevertheless determined to play the hero; always. As a matter of fact, Venice gave me a new pair of uniform for us to be easily distinguished by the group and outside communities.

The attire consists of:

---a hunter green military (general-like) suit that has a short golden Epaulette's attached on both shoulders. The attire itself was cut at the middle, parallel to the waist that creates a cape-like stance, which reveals the inner skirts and the lower limbs.

---Brown combat boots that laces to above the ankle, which provides more protection for a relatively vulnerable part of the body such as nerves and bones. It is also matched up with a pair of grey stockings above knee length to manage swollen legs and varicose veins

---Sleeveless shirt (of any colour) and a black mini skirt that enables free control for the legs

---Leathered auburn thermo-gloves that protects the person under any rough surfaces and provides pleasant warmth and comfort for the coldest winter days.

---Lastly, a shamrock coloured headgear that holds an unique tool that can be easily utilised with a a double tap on its particular motion sensors. Once tapped, it'll grant full access towards the user's touch and open a holographic screen that covers the whole visual perspective; It can be used as a pair of binoculars, thermographic camera, and other features which will be furthermore elaborated from Venice

These are the clothing worn by the "La vie" organisation. The title itself means "life" in French, which befits the whole squadron for various emergency dispatch upon any missions; I myself is included.

"You look good" Venice gives me fluttering comment, which made my heart pound exclusively.

"Thanks" I replied, while borrowing my face underground.

The designs aren't too shabby, in fact, it was stylish by all means. I couldn't help but ponder amidst from the zombie apocalypse happening throughout the world. I was well-dressed like a famous bad ass whipping character of the undead; supposed to be—100 of us are currently dressed with the same clothing after all. But the colours of the uniforms and the Epaulettes attached from our shoulders all differs accordingly from each of the individual's rank. Apparently, the ranking system is a little bit peculiar. The more crystal it is, closer from the shades of white, the higher your rank would be. As for mine, the golden hue ironically wields the lowest class.

And thus, we finally took our chopper off from the open field.

----5:11 A.M. ----

It took us around 10 minutes to arrive on the designated location right across the chapel, but the church itself was greeted by an ALARMING number of zombies. At approximately 10,000 feet above, the horde could be seen scrambling towards the building, seemingly reaching out for something…or someone?

Right beneath the sliding roofs, 3 people could are caught struggling down the curvature bricks.

Two women that seems to be the mother and her daughter had been in a thoroughly embrace between themselves, crying even, at the apparent matter. There I saw…

"CLINTON, DON'T!" I yelled, hoping that I've reached the ears of the young man who was running towards a huge monster at the size of a miniature house, clawing on the rigid walls.

"What the hell is that?!" Venice mutters. This was the first time the both of us had seen such an entity in the apocalypse. It was far too early for any mutations that these zombies could ever muster. The zombies itself sprinting hastily like an animal was a troublesome feat, but an evolution? No way we can handle that…or could we?

"Ready the C4's and heavy ammunitions."

"Roger!"

Venice, with her abundant experience and adaptability from the situation, quickly wraps up a plan inside her head and calmly asserts the resolution for the hectic problem. She took into consideration of using any sorts of massive explosives and Molotov's at our arsenal that could wield a potential threat amongst the fearful survivors. The C4's will be used carefully from the compressed numbers of zombies at a designated area.

"Lead us down, Trevor"

"On it, Venice"

Trevor shifts the cyclic pitch control and steadily dives in at the centre of the crowd. With the loud blades that enables the aircraft to fly, additional zombies from the vicinity had caught our attention and swiftly joins the frame.

"Jump!" Venice shouts, as she summersaults gracefully in mid-air, and rolls down on the sliding roof and manages to stick her two feet nearly at the verge of the brick walls, right across the two survivors. I followed suit, with a miniature parachute of course, and awkwardly landed on the side parallel from my partner, Venice. Staggering, I focused my balance and take control from my wobbling legs and, uh, nailed the over-all landing.

I turned my attention over the hideous monster parallel from my vision. Seeing it up close brought terror from my spine, immobilising my inner thoughts and senses during the process. I perked up and began shaking the immersed trauma away from my body and concentrated more on the occurrence right in front of me. There he was, Clinton, charging straight towards the claws, which was seemingly grabbing hold unto someone-- and that someone was…

"Pura?"

The 10 feet claws of the mutated monster is effortlessly clenching Pura's slim body. With no time to spare, I quickly dashed forth and pulled the trigger from my magnum hidden at the palms of my hand. With the tremendous power brought by each bullet, the shot, which landed on the decaying eye, had produced a massive hole straight from its rotten face. This allowed us to quickly grab hold unto the lifeless body of Pura, who was released from the clutching arms of the evolved zombie due the pain accumulated by the recoil of the bullet.

Voided with the usual organs which composes the human body, her lower limbs had been squeezed tightly like a worn out cloth, dried and mosaic. Her cold body rests unto my hands as I desperately calls her name

"Pura…" My fallen comrade, who's been twisted and torn, steadily opens her eyes.

"Fleur….is that…you?" With the last bit of her strength, she tightly grips my hand and forces a bitter smile. A tear drops from the corner of her eye as she calmly bids her farewell.

"Take this necklace...and give this…to my mother…Claire…Wattson…" She slowly lifts her hand and touches her necklace resting between her collar bones.

"Thank you…" The strength from her gripping hand had escaped her body, and the seemingly odd and humorous friend of mine had died on my hands. Regret gushed towards my mind and the questions asked were answered by none.

Why did you have to die here?

Why does it have to be you?

Please tell me you're actually playing dead, right? Right…?

I didn't know what to say.

By the time I've arrived, it was already too late…

My chest was heated in pure hatred and anger, and the tears from my eyes had already showered my cheeks, mourning from the loss of my dear best friend.

I carefully laid her lifeless body and caresses her hair for the last time.

"I'm sorry…" These are the words that I could only muster. My hands were trembling from the sudden death of someone dear to me. It was inevitable. Our time will eventually come; even so, zombies? Don't screw with me. Whoever created this virus will taste the fiery flames of hell. This will mark my life-long goal and I swear in my name, that I,

Yuki, Fleur S.

Will take the head of Andrew Turner and all of the accomplices he has and slaughter them all.