Life Is A Mess

The moon was halfway across the sky as per its regular duties of the natural laws. But people live in the modern world now, with their own creations and technology. Buildings rise and soar upto the skies, ready to almost embrace any heavenly body that comes too close.

Downtown was a concrete jungle of buildings, each having its own beauty, style and height. Colorful billboards stood above every street-level store, shop, office, bank, etc. Even so, downtown in New York was rich in everything, but except for casinos.

Casinos were a rare sight in NY, since two-thirds of the world's casino population was situated at Las Vegas instead.

Showtime!

Cooper Black, Vandermann Vugerton, Exodus Luke, Harrison Garison, and John Luther were ready for an anti-zombie raid.

Vandermann was the man-in-the-turret of the heavily-armored assault vehicle, resembling a modified Rezvani Vengeance tactical urban vehicle. The 'Notoran 8' as Harrison called it.

The armored vehicle had sixteen wheels in its caterpillar tracks. Four bulbous headlamps shone down the front of the vehicle in a cascading 'V'-pattern. The engine protruded out of the hood of the van-like car, with exhaust pipes leading to circular holes at the back which dealt great gusts of carbon monoxide, polluting the world by 0.0315% an hour. There were two chainguns attached to the sides of the Notoran. On its top, stood a heavy 900mm shell launcher which was controlled by the supposed man-in-the-turret. The Notoran resembled a Land Rover, but equipped like a Panzer tank.

"Let's get this party started!" Luther pressed his foot onto the accelerator. Exos Luke listened to MH21's "NiteKid" song, bobbing his head up and down, roll and round. There were multiple compartments inside the vehicle, each with its own purpose. The radio section was occupied by Harrison, transmitting some important messages to the nearest MBC headquarters. The diner section was occupied by Cooper, who was gulping down pints of 'Blue Label'. The toilet section was occupied by a constipated Luke, who was sending out weird fart messages and wacky smells.

The Notoran 8 whisked off towards the horizon, leaving a fresh track of oil leaking from the fuel tank. Harrison had advised Luther countless times to check the fuel tanks but nobody cared. Hence, they'll be suffering in no time.

They passed brightly-illuminated shops, malls, police stations, jails, sport stadiums, construction sites and many other commercial platforms and municipal accommodations. All the other honking noises of the cars were drowned out by the music blaring from the MP3 media player. "Pouring champagne, pouring another drink…" the vocals in MH21's song were all they could hear.

This time, they had set out fully prepared. They had stocked bazookas, flamethrowers, chainguns and chainsaws in their inventory instead of the previous explosives and infantry weapons.

There would be zombie soup being served at all local restaurants by the time they were done. The only next problem remaining would be any rogue GSFERs lurking within Area 5474N.

T-Dog was resting in peace inside the 'Lucky Charms' motel's garage.

Everyone was peacefully driving along the highway. And so, along came trouble! A red newly-purchased Ferrari slammed hard against the Notoran, giving everyone inside a free full-body massage.

"Yolly the what?" John stirred and found the attacker in-line with his sight; perhaps a bit lower.

The Ferrari and the Notoran quickly pressed on their brakes and stopped at a side of the road.

The Ferrari's windshield was cracked into several thousands of pieces of tempered glass. Fumes wafted from its ruined engine and out came some familiar faces.

Dorritor Kho, Rickardo Viz and the living corpse of Yon Roncho (who was wrapped in bandages and had to carry his life support stand wherever he went).

Rickardo had the furious face of a stunt biker, the body of a WWE wrestler and the clothing of a mixture of a school uniform, military uniform, and an actor. Greyish teeth glinted and shone in the glossy street lighting. A French beard gave his mouth a cool-looking shape. His eyes were designed for winking at passing-by girls, and his mouth was apt to whistling. The only problem about him: he was evil, corrupt and untrustworthy.

"Well, well! We meet 'gain, Black Cooper!" he clapped his hands as he emerged from the ruined Ferrari, as if he were making his entrance into a theatre from a fancy limousine, ready to embrace his hot actress partner. One of his upper incisors had a golden gleam to it. "So we meet, at last! You thought that Yon would die so soon, huh? Well, guess what?" he shot the living corpse which splattered blood onto the Notoran. "I now claim his share of $85,000! How's that for a change?"

All the remaining members looked at Cooper, including his own friends.

"Alright! What do you want from me? I gave you all the money I had, so far! What more do you want, you greedy money sucker?! You want more; you want more? I'll give you more, you…"

Cooper grabbed a bazooka from the Notoran, shot, and missed. The missile hit a nearby police car. Luckily, the cops weren't onboard. Unluckily, the cops would now be their newfound enemies.

Dorritor Kho took the attacking lead, bobbing his head as he barraged away like a psycho maniac. Two middle-aged NYPD officers took cover behind their ruined vehicles. Rickardo huffed and roared, his face swelling with anger like an elephant toad and red as chopped beef.

"Damn that son of a…" Dorritor came face-to-face with a cop holding a 9mm pistol. " …gun!"

Oops! Kho was busted for the day, or maybe a year. According to the 'American Book of Law & Order', he had broken 3 laws : "Never use an unauthorized weapon", "Don't show any guns in public", "Never fire a gun without its legally-approved license".

Yet, Dorritor Kho was only a newbie gunman when compared to the brilliant Rickardo. While the cops were busy giving Kho a 'kneel down', Viz snuck his way towards the Notoran.

Rickardo attempted to hijack the Notoran.

Luther turned their vehicle towards the Ferrari. There was a grinding sound of metal on metal as the Notoran slammed hard into the Ferrari.

Luckily, Rickardo had staggered off, rolled sideways, and yanked a 1997 Triumph T595 Daytona sportsbike onto the asphalt. He kickstarted it, did a wheelie, and zoomed forward.

"Hey! He's escaping! Go get him quick, Luther! Don't just stand there, Vandy! Go man the turrets!" Cooper boomed orders from his spot at the diner's section. He pounded his fist on the polished teak table every time he commanded one of his comrades.

The Notoran-8 jerked off to a start, but its speed was too slow to keep up with the bike.

"Hey, where's Harrison?" Cooper could find no sign of him. Where could he go at this critical moment?

Just then, a powerful Audi A3 Diesel car overtook them. Cooper could've sworn he saw Harrison's face and a 'thumbs up' hand pointing towards them, within the driver's seat.

One thing Harrison was good at was driving. He zoomed ahead into a suburban highway, never losing the trail of the bike. Unfortunately, they were in the left-hand-side aisle; Americans drive on the right.

The bike was okay as it could clip through the opposite directional traffic as a knife through packed butter. But a car?

Harrison was brushing past a 18-wheeler freightliner truck when he caught sight of two Blackhawk choppers trailing right behind his Audi.

Harrison sped-up like a speedevil with his car's engine roaring simultaneously. He was catching up with the bike's speed.

The highway had a concrete barricade running along the middle of the road. Moss-covered brick walls, coated with white paint and urban tags flanked the edges of the total highway. There were four lanes in each 'side'. A total of eight for the traffic to run along.

As the Audi was about to overtake the 18-wheeler, someone with a UMZ-300 opened fire. Harrison ducked his head and retracted the windows up. The highly-durable glass might survive atleast three dozen shots before cracking and shattering to smithereens.

Harrison managed a quick peek. He saw the truck driver, a macho mustachio guy, aiming the gun with his left hand and steer the truck with his right. He munched on fresh doughnuts and let the crumbs go billowing after the winds.

Rickardo's bike was gaining speed. Police helicopters were right behind them. What could Harrison do to get his damn hide out of this place?

Right at that moment, Harrison was overcome by a plan. A very wicked, dangerous and risky plan. This plan had once ruined the entire city of Sydney Harbor, Australia.

Without thinking twice, he dialed on his Samsung S7 Edge. Within three rings, someone answered the phone. And there's only one 'someone' who was currently at the motel.

"Hey, Amy, my love, do you still have the remnants of the '5:FT' with you?"

"Oh… okay, I'll try!" she must've been sleeping while the men were away. "What should I do with it?"

"Just send the thing, you *****!" Harrison had to crouch deep beneath the seats to take cover from the highly-accurate bullets. One such bullet bounced off the glass, leaving a faint crack before it left. "Okay, gotta go! Please hurry and send the warhead… soon!"

SLAM!

The 18-wheeler smashed the Audi A3 and crushed two ribs, a fingerbone and chipped an elbow of Harrison Garison.

Out came a GSFER from the depths of the earth, with the warhead in its mouth. Bad choice!

Rickardo's Daytona was completely out of sight. The police were only 20 metres away from the wreckage site. But the 5:FT ended it all…