A/N: Hi! Been a while since I posted anything in the M7verse, I know. Sorry about that.

Before I introduce this new piece, I wanted to point you all in the direction of a project I've been working on that'll be kind of a big deal for fanfic writers/readers. It'll give you guys the opportunity to be paid for your fanfic writing by the network who produces the series, those of us on the creative team working with the fans (you) on continuing our show's episodes based on the content that we all create as a collective. Any material that is used as official series canon material will be paid for, be it a rough idea, a role play scenario, a script, a poem, or a full on fanfic story. Anything is welcome.

You can check out the article on the We Heart TV blog. There's a link posted on my profile for anyone who's interested.

As always, I recommend hitting up The Beta Branch (link also on my profile) for all of your beta needs or just to chitchat about your favorite fandoms. :)

Now as for this particular story, anyone who was at last year's M7 Con convention in Los Angeles heard me mention creating a whole new universe for our boys. I've been working on this for a few years now, well before the whole Walking Dead craze came about, but I figured with the zombie obsession still at its peak, now would be as good a time as ever to introduce my new world.

Yep, that's right. The boys vs zombies in a post-apocalyptic world! Fair warning, the guys are going to be just a tad OOC for this one in comparison to other universes. They're fighting zombies in a world where most of humanity has perished. I had to make some tweaks to their characterizations to ensure their survival, lol.

That being said, I highly encourage anyone who wants to play in my sandbox to just go right on ahead, but maybe wait until I've finished this premiere story to do so. I'm revealing their personalities and back stories as I go along, so you might want to make certain you have all the details in order, first, before you run off with my new toys. ;)

I hope you enjoy!

Two years from now, The Higher Hopes Foundation - a medical research facility in Shreveport, Louisiana - will create the prototype for a vaccine that is designed to rid the world of the HIV virus. Upon testing, it is discovered that the vaccine may also contain some regenerative properties that, if successfully enhanced, will allow the human body to essentially heal its own damage to a limited extent.

Four years from now, with the vaccine still in its experimental phases, The Rising Corporation in Denver, Colorado (rival to The Higher Hopes Foundation), will hire a team of the world's most successful practitioners in the craft of theft to steal the vaccine and all the research that goes with it. The operation is a success and Rising immediately begins extensive experimentation, much of which falls outside the bounds of legal practice. Lab technicians test various new forms of the vaccine on rats, horses, pigs, birds, fish, monkeys, human volunteers, and even on the corpses of John and Jane Doe's who lay unclaimed in the local morgues.

Five years from now, the results of Rising's carelessness bring about a swarm of human bodies, neither alive nor dead, wandering the streets and feasting on any living being they can touch. Once bitten by these living corpses, the victim falls prey to the vaccine-turned-virus, joining into the ranks of the Diseased mere hours after infected saliva mixes with living, flowing blood. All attempts to stop the rapidly growing numbers of the putrid masses are in vain, felling entire armies, then entire nations. The living are left to roam the Earth in small numbers, constantly on the run from both the Undead and from each other. Laws no longer exist, crime runs rampant, there is no trust amongst those who survive together in wandering communities, and fear becomes the one and only constant.

But, there are those rare survivors who still hold out hope for humanity. They haven't given up on the world just yet, and will risk everything to fight for the lives they used to have. Somewhere out there, there exists a cure for the virus man created, and it becomes the sole mission for the brave few left with their souls still intact to find it. These men and women, these heroes, are the last spark of salvation for mankind, and they will stop at nothing save death itself, to put the planet back in order.

This is their story...

The sun rested high in the sky over the abandoned city of Shreveport, shedding light on the skeletons of sky scrapers, gas stations, vehicles, and the remains of the "lucky" victims who escaped life without rising again as a monster. In one of the hollowed-out shells of an office building, a man dressed all in black slinked his way through the shadows, staying just out of reach of the sunlight filtering through the broken-out windows. He kept all his senses on full alert, listening for even the slightest noise that might hint of danger while also trying not to make any noise of his own. Slowly, carefully, he made his way to the rooftop, keeping himself down low and crawling over to the walled edge of the building, binoculars in hand. He didn't bother to peer down at the street – he already knew what sight awaited him down there. There would only be a few of the grotesque Plagued shuffling about from building to building, aimlessly searching to satisfy a hunger that never seemed to diminish. He also knew, though, that a few could all-too-quickly become too many. If they were to discover his position it would only be a matter of minutes before an entire horde of them would come seeking him out. That in mind, he scooted further back away from the ledge, making certain he would remain out of sight.

Focusing his binoculars, he scanned the windows of the building across the street, set back in its own large yard behind a cast-iron fence. He remembered the yard was once a luscious green with carefully shaped hedges and flowers blooming every season that spelled out the words "Higher Hopes Foundation" on the grounds. It had looked a little out of place in the middle of the traffic-heavy, smog-filled city, but it had offered a splash of color in an otherwise grey world. Now the grass was long dead, the hedges were overgrown and unruly, and unchecked weeds had devoured any signs that flowers had ever existed. As with everywhere else in the city, the grounds were covered with garbage strewn about, shuffled around only by the soft winds that occasionally flowed through the streets. The building, once bustling with the drone of the working force, was now devoid of life.

Or at least it should have been.

Movement in the window on the top floor, farthest to the right of the building, caught the eye of the man on the rooftop. He followed the subject closely, looking for the telltale signs of the walking Infected – sharp, jerky movements, an ambling walk, and seemingly aimless direction. Instead, he saw the fluid motions of a person easily shifting through whatever activity they were engrossed in. They moved from one window across the room to the next - speedy, calculated, seemingly mindless of the destruction and death that waited just outside. It seemed like the human was just another worker bee going abut a daily routine, which brought a sad sense of nostalgia to the man who observed.

The figure moved closer to the window and briefly peered out at the grounds below, revealing himself to be a man of dark skin, donning an actual lab coat and holding two vials in his hands filled with different-colored liquids.

Bingo, the man in black thought with a smirk. His sources had been correct. This man in the window had to be the one he'd been looking for, the one who could be the only person capable of creating an antidote for the poison that had spread like wildfire over the Earth. This man had to be kept alive at all costs.

Movement just at the corner of his vision from the rooftop adjacent to his quickly caught his attention. He turned to see yet another man standing there, waving his arms at him and pointing at the ground. On his guard, but curious, he looked down at the edge of the fenced yard and saw one of the Diseased standing still, its head cocked up towards what used to be the research facility, towards the man who worked within.

It had seen him.

The thing let out a low moan and others of its kind stopped their mindless activities, searching for the source of the change in atmosphere. Their hunger was fierce and the scent of prey was in the air. They shuffled forward, moving to convene at the fence line, their groans and newly-focused sense of direction catching the attention of yet more of their Undead and Diseased brethren.

The man in black turned back towards the man that had warned him of the impending attack. This second man, younger than he was with long, blond hair tied back out of his face, and sporting a simple brown leather jacket, nodded at him and held up a well cared for, long-range, high-powered sniper rifle. The black clad man nodded back, and pulled out his own pistol - an Army issue, M9 Beretta - as he swiftly made his way back across the roof and down the stairwell.

He exited the building carefully, mindful of any of the Plagued that might cross his path. They were on the hunt now, and apt to be more aggressive than usual. He couldn't afford to get caught by them, not when he was finally so close to his objective.

He rounded the corner and cursed when he realized he would have to make a dash out in the open if he wanted to reach the fence. He weighed the risks, hoping the mindless wretches were too busy trying to solve the dilemma of getting through the iron obstacle in front of them to notice his own entrance into the compound. He hesitated just a little too long and one of them turned in his direction, locking onto his position. It began to move towards him, but didn't get so much as one step before its head exploded in a shower of blood, brain, and skull. It dropped to the ground without the others even noticing its violent demise.

Wonder how many bullets he has, the man briefly wondered, sending a mental thanks to the blond man on the roof who was apparently guarding his back.

Taking just another moment to steel himself, he shot out of the cover of the building with impressive speed. He didn't bother to turn as he heard the sound of more of the Undead meeting their demise at the hands of the mystery sniper. Instead, he focused on the dumpster in front of him, leaped up onto it, cleared the fence, and sprinted for the building as soon as his feet touched the ground. He didn't have to look to know that some of the Diseased had caught on to his method of entry and were now following suit, clambering over the fence in their clumsy, determined manner. More of them fell to the rifle, but he knew there would be more ready to take their place. He pushed himself to run faster.

Throwing himself into the doorway, he slammed it shut behind him and took only a moment to barricade it with the few pieces of broken furniture he could find in the near vicinity. It wouldn't stop them, but it would stall them for the time he needed to get the doctor out safely. Turning, he found the nearest stairwell and took the steps three at a time until he reached the top floor, panting at the exertion.

"Doc! We gotta leave, now!" he shouted as he burst through the hall door, running in the direction of the room in which he had seen the man working. He reached the last door and discovered it locked.

"Doc?! You in there? It's time to go!" he said as he pounded on the obstacle in front of him.

"I'm almost done," answered a deep, muffled voice from inside.

"Shit, we don't have time for this! If you want to live, get your ass moving!"

A few moments later, the door unlocked just as the quiet building reverberated with the sound of a slow stampede bashing its way through the blockade at the front entrance. The doctor, now sporting a large messenger bag over one shoulder, appeared in the door.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"No time for introductions, Doc. There a back way out of here?" the man in black asked, flustered, as he grabbed the other man by the arm.

"Yeah, it's this way," the doc said, taking the lead.

They raced back down the hall, bypassing the first stairwell and finding another one after rounding a few corners. They got down a few flights of stairs before the door on the floor below them flung open, spilling a few of the Undead onto the landing. The man in black fired his pistol without hesitation, and with deadly accuracy he shot enough rounds into two of the intruders to render them practically headless before he and the doc turned back to the floor above them.

"What floor are we on?" he asked.

"Fourth floor. Why?" the doc responded.

"Cafeteria's on the next floor down?"

"Yeah, but it's wide open."

"Good. Get us there."

With a nod, the doc lead them to yet another stairwell. As they entered the hallway on the third floor, one of the Undead attacked them from around a blind corner. To the surprise of the black-clad man, a long blade suddenly sprung out from within the doc's sleeve; and with one clean slash, the head of the Diseased fell to the floor with a sickening thud, the body following quickly behind it.

"What?" the doc replied to the look of the man in black. "Didn't think I made it this far without being able to defend myself, did you?"

Shaking his head with bewilderment, the pistol-toting man lead the rest of the way to the cafeteria, making sure to guide them to the windows facing the front of the building. He looked out at the grounds, noting that there were no more of the Undead outside. It would make for a cleaner escape once they were able to get out, if they could get past all the ones who were now inside. He could only hope he was making the right decision by making their stand there.

The first of the Diseased ambled its way into the room. The doc dropped his bag gently to the floor and shot another long blade out of his other sleeve. The black-clad man crouched down and pulled another Beretta out of the holster on his leg, then jammed a new clip into the weapon he had already discharged. He and the doc had a short stare-down into the milky-white eyes of the human-turned-creature before it let out a loud wail.

Then its head disappeared into a fine, red mist before it could finish its death yell, its body crumbling to the ground before the doc or the man in black could move.

"You got someone coverin' us from the outside," the doc stated rather than questioned.

"Yep," the man in black answered simply; and then all hell broke loose.