The sun was already setting by the time the new sounds of a motorcycle echoed through the streets of St. Louis. Just freshly reclaimed from the zombie hordes, it looked more like a ghost town that an actually city. Sure, a few small salons and hotels had popped up, but most business were still empty. Nothing like a fresh city to get started.<br/><br/>A lone zombie knelt in the middle of the street, feasting on his latest victim. the reeving of a motor caught its attention, and it stood just in time to "see" a black motorcycle with a burning skull insignia drive by. Well, it didn't actually see the bike, but it saw the baseball bat that hit it, causing it to do a full flip before hitting the ground. The owner of the bike stopped, tossing the bat in the small trailer he was towing. He wore a black, tattered vest, a black helmet with a frozen star painted on it, blue jeans and a t-shirt. Slung at both sides of his waist were a pair of sawed-off shotguns, and slung across his back was a guitar. "Damned fleshmunchers. Seems the Sentinels haven't finished their clean up yet." The figure pulled one of his guns and ended the creatures unlife before strolling into the nearby bar. He walked over to a cornor booth, removed his helmet and unslung his guitar. "Hey barkeep, get me a scotch, straight."