The night was cool, colder than what it was during the middle of the night. A soft breeze had been blowing for about an hour as the group made there way towards the alley, and coming out to a solitary street lamp that gave what little it could to illuminate the town hall and the square. Seconds turned into minutes as life ticked by on what seems like ages. They were slow but the Zombies were on their tail. the shuffling of a hundred feet was like the thunderclap of the inevitable. The shuffling grew louder, followed by low, torturous moans that would send shivers down anyone's spine. They had to move fast. Upon reaching the bloodied steps of the once proud and well built town hall, they would be barred from its safety for it was locked and sealed by a reinforced door that even a tank shell could hardly dent. Only way to get in there was someone who could actually know the code to the security console beside it or somehow by pass it.<br/><br/>Door Options (Changing the Hacking difficultly "below"):<br/><strong>Average</strong>+<strong>Gather Information</strong>+<strong>Charisma</strong>= if you roll a successful check. Your character would have known the code to the security doors. and get to open without hacking. (your choice of freedom on how, an ex government employee, hacked the government database beforehand, etc.)<br/><br/><strong>Difficult</strong>+<strong>Computer Use</strong>+<strong>Int</strong>= if you roll a successful check. Your character will be able to hack it and succeed.<br/><br/>The sound of flesh being torn from bone and of chewing will snap the group back to their predicament. The situation's sense of urgency is great, and the more time they waste opening the door, the more time, the horde will reach them in moments notice. The first few undead are well distracted by the dozen of littered corpse spread through out the town square, but the later ones are heading towards the surviving group in earnest. Good news is, The group's agonizing death was delayed by a matter of minutes. Behind the sea of rotting dead, was the unusual figure that had stood their watching the entire scene. It was clearly not human, judging by the tattered clothes and a few flesh and bone hanging from view of its grotesque frame. as though that thing knew it was the already the end, the survivors were trapped, outnumbered and alone nothing was gonna save them. As if its entertainment was over like it was imagining that the credits for a movie was now being rolled out. Without moving the rifle from its shoulder, the thing turned around and walked away. somewhat portraying to anyone smart enough to notice that its job was done. It won.