Frank Wallace

With a grunt Frank stood and stretched for a moment. The small group of zombies weaving they're way toward him seemed to pick up the pace slightly as if in anticipation.

"Heh, well ahm sure Id feed yahs for a good day or two chums but this'n has a few years left in him."

Lifting his shield Frank stepped defensively in front of the house, cocking his head back he roared "ELVIS!" and crouched to absorb the impact of a charging undead. With a wet smack the creature impaled itself upon the shields nail studded surface, Frank felt its cold hands feebly trying to reach for his eyes, rather then loose a chunk of his face Frank grunted and heaved his shield sharply upwards and over his shoulder, as the weight of the zombie left he heard a sharp crunch as it hit the ground seconds later.

As the others closed in Frank let forth a satisfied smile and cracked his neck, reaching back he unsheathed his machete and once again screamed for the New Yorker, as a zombie shambled toward him arms outstretched he chuckled and lopped it off at the elbow, as the creature recoiled Frank stepped forward and drove his boot into its chest with a frontal kick, continuing the momentum Frank swung his full weight onto the downed zombie and smiled grimly as its chest collapsed inwards. As he struggled to pull his foot from the creature he almost was taken down from behind but as luck would have it he managed to loose his balance at exactly the right moment to topple backwards onto his newest assailant. With a sickening "squelch" Frank groaned and staggered to his feet. He backpedaled quickly and almost slipped in the remains of the recently crushed zombie.

"Damnit thats never gonna come out of my shirt." as images of the once cheerful Hawaiin print stained with blood popped into his head Frank tossed his shield aside and took his machete in a two handed grip, two zombies remained in his vicinity but the rest of the group could be anywhere, judging by the sounds of gunfire Elvis was already on it, albeit most likely half asleep. Charging forward Frank began lopping off limbs and roaring accentuating each swing with a word,

"Can.....never.....find......my.....size!!!!!" One zombie remained, it stood there almost akwardly waving the stumps that used to be arms, its companion lay near it sans arms and head. Tossing the machete aside Frank started forward and took the zombies head in his hands, holding the snapping creature away from his body Frank mumbled,

"These days it seems you just cant get ahead...." and with that turned its head 360 degrees and pulled it off with a swift tug, he looked away sharply to avoid the sudden gushing spray of spinal fluid and coagulated blood.

Dropping the bloody lump Frank stood for a moment and then punted it off across the street, gathering his Machete and shield Frank sauntered up to the house and stopped at the front door, looking to his feet he stepped back for a moment and then with a chuckle wiped both boots on the once pristine "Home Sweet Home" door mat.

After a moment of catching his breath inside Frank removed his outer layer of clothing and tossed the whole mess into the sink, he filled the sink with cold water and dropped his gore stained weapons onto the kitchen floor, with a grunt he heaved himself into a chair at the kitchen table and began carefully removing gobs of flesh from his shield.

Elvis ran through the kitchen, shotgun in hand, and passed the busy Frank. He jogged up the stairs and almost fell as he ran through the doorway to the bedroom. He looked at the spilled beer all over the floor and nightstand.

" Dammit! Why'd the zombies come now! They made me spill my beer! They're DEAD now!" Elvis said, not realizing the unintended pun left the room full of sadness. Elvis huffed and sighed all the way back down to the kitchen. He stared at Frank's back, he was still busy cleaning his shield.

"I'm gonna go wait in the car... I'll see if the damn radio works. We gotta get the hell outta here real fast. I trust you'll grab the beer in the fridge to bring along." Elvis went outside towards the car, on the way he stopped and got his newly edited jacket. He picked it up and put it on, it fit him almost exactly. He smirked, thinking about how good Frank was at this sorta thing. He touched the various parts of the jacket. He touched it, felt, rubbed it, hit it, flicked it, to make sure it was the real deal. He smiled, knowing not only did he look awesome, it could actually protect him. He went onward toward the car, picked up his backpack near the front right tire of the car. He slung the overly stuffed backpack full of "necessities" over his shoulder and entered the tank of a car. He was sitting in shotgun, backpack near his feet, and he was turning many knobs on the radio.

"Uh... technology... being so advanced and all..." he mumbled as he pathetically tried to turn on the radio, hitting every button and turning every knob but the right one.

((Hey guys, my computer IS up and running again. I was unsure what you wanted me to do from here, if you were waiting for my post. You took out the zombies I sent after you, so its your guys' call, if you're staying longer or leaving or whatnot. :D I need to know where you are headed.))