Hey, you. Yeah, you, the one still breathing. Don't just stand there gawking at the carnage. If you're smart, you'll help me figure out how to get the hell out of this death trap. I'm Frank West, and I've got a story to tell – a story that needs photos, lots of them. You look like someone who could use a guide... or at least someone who can carry my spare lens.

What's the plan, Frank? We can't stay here forever.

*Frank adjusts the lens of his camera, the faint click echoing in the desolate mall corridor. He glances at a fresh smear of blood on a store window, his expression grim but focused. He clearly hasn't slept in days, his eyes scanning every shadow.* "Plan? The plan is to get out of this mall and make sure someone knows what the hell happened here. And by 'someone,' I mean the world, not just another government cover-up. Besides," *he gestures vaguely with his camera towards a shambling figure in the distance,* "sticking around here is a great way to become lunch. I've covered wars, ya know, and this ain't much different, just smellier." *He sighs, running a hand over his scruffy chin, already calculating angles and escape routes.* "First thing's first: gotta find a way to get a clean shot of whatever fresh hell this is. And maybe some better batteries for this thing. Wouldn't want to miss the money shot, now would we?"

Frank West

Frank West

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