'life is but a game, fun, tough and always encouraging to keep playing, but do not forget, at the slightest mistake... it's game over...'
Day One
Earlier Dion had deduced that the zombies lacked sight, they still had eyeballs - though barely - but were still blind. Now he knew why, their dead looking eyeballs was in reality just that - dead. The eyes were a tissue so it was inescapable that it would die also.
'But then why...'
Although all these seemed logically, he couldn't forget about something else, their nose.
By all reason the nasal organs should have died too, but he had noticed painfully earlier that a zombie's nose was one of its strongest points. Something was wrong.
Something was missing.
He didn't want to change his earlier deductions as he didn't feel that they were wrong, he just felt as if if there was one piece missing from all these that would make everything fit and then make perfect sense.
What is it...
And then his eyes flung open, he had been wracking his brains for a while now thinking about something when it should have been obvious from the start, in fact it should have been answered with a simple question.
What happens when the human body has been pushed to the absolute brink?
To the brink of death, and even beyond that?
It was easy, simple in fact.
It was...
Evolution.
The zombies might have lost a lot when they lost their humanity but they had been forcefully evolved to make up for it.
In the absence of their sight and with most of their bodily functions shutdown, they had evolved, they had pushed their neccessary attributes forward and evoled them, thus enabling them to become the apex predators in this environment.
Dion watched as the figure lunging at him grew larger and larger in his eyes, the zombie - formally Daniel - had lunged at him the very moment it discovered him, but his mind moved at outrageous speed, as he was able to assemble his thoughts in the moments before it arrived.
Just before he was tackled into by the creature, he rolled out of the way.
CRASH!
There was a loud sound as the zombie crashed into the locked door, it paused as it shook its head dazedly, but that was only briefly as it was already turning its attention hungrily to him.
Dion was lucyk, due to nature of the broadcasting room there was enough space from the door inwards, the room spread out at either sides and gave him the neccessary room to maneuver himself out of harms way.
Dion hurriedly raised his head and he immediately lost his breath, the zombie that had crashed into the door a second ago was a second away from crashing into him.
He felt his heart go still and his blood rushed at frightening speed, his whole body was pumped with andrenaline, he felt high, the rush... it was amazing, and then once again he observed - gratefully this time - as the world slowed down. He watched with amazement as the dirty and sharp looking nails of the zombie which were about to pierce his eyeballs slowed down to a snails pace.
Dion didn't waste time admiring the scenery, instead he immediately rolled himself away as quickly as he he could, and a second later he heard a snarl which was followed by a dull sound as it had somehow collided with the desk.
During his narrow escape he had lost his glasses somewhere on the floor, but he didn't bother trying to look for it, he knew he wouldn't have enough time.
Dion for the first time in a while felt the cold hands of fear grip his heart ever so tightly, he knew it, in that moment if not for that bizzare occurrence his eyeballs would have been pierced, which would mean infected, which would mean...
He gasped.
Something was wrong with this zombie, it was too fast, and - Dion looked at the cracks on the door - too strong.
His eyes narrowed.
"I see..."
It was actually his fault, he had only just finished cheesily labeling it as an Original, but he hadn't treated it as such, and that was unacceptable by the standards of Klaus Mikkaelson.
"It seems you are quite strong," he sighed.
And in response he got a roar.
He might have seemed calm, but Dion was actually freaking out. While he had to struggle with various ideas to finally crush the enemy's skull, the reverse wasn't the case, as only a bite of possibly even a scratch would spell doom for him.
'I have to be rational here,' Dion mused.
This zombie, unlike the others, had exhibited unbelievable levels of speed, recovery, and brute strength. Dion knew he had to be smart about this or else he could easily lose his life.
But just because he wanted a break didn't mean he would be getting one, immediately after picking itself up from the floor the zombie lunged itself mindlessly at him, its maws gaping in eagerness.
With enough preparation Dion managed to throw himself out of the way with time to spare, the mindless cannibal flashed past at high speed and crashed into the wall opposite the desk. This time it didn't go unscathed as Dion now noticed it's right shoulder bent at an unnatural angle and its arm hanging awkwardly.
But that did little to comfort Dion, as he knew this creatures felt zero pain, the only consolation he felt was that he now had only one hand's claws to worry about.
Even then...
Dion knew he couldn't remain passive in this exchange, these things were probably tireless as Dion couldn't imagine them feeling pain, but he was not, the longer this scuffle lasted the more tired and out of breath he would be, not to mention muscle exhaustion and the rest, but the zombie would remain as it was when their battle began. And seeing as a bite or scratch was all it would take for Dion to lose his life, he didn't see how prolonging this battle would benefit him at all.
Using those precious moments before the disoriented zombie oriented itself, Dion searched for any thing he could use as a weapon.
For his own safety it had to be something long, preferably sharp, but he would still appreciate a bludgeoning tool if that was what he saw. His eyes darted frantically around the room, desperation seizing him, until...
There!
With a quick step or two he picked up the broom resting on the wall, then he hurriedly raised his foot and brought it down forcefully on the area where the wooden length connected with the plastic head.
But...
It absolutely wasn't like it was in the movies, the broom was wrapped in a decorative and protective nylon like encasing, so when Dion stomped on it the wood broke but the nylon didn't, as a result instead of a sharp pointed wooden, Dion held the broom with its broken head flapping about within the confines of the nylon covering.
"Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!"
Dion was swinging it back and forth forcefully in the air out of panic, trying to force the nylon to give.
"Cut! Cut you bastard! C*cksucker!"