Katsuki Bakugou thought it was the end, but now he could only wish it had been. Nothing felt the same after that, walking down the desolate street of his hometown. It made his heart drop, seeing his former home in rubble. He hadn't seen anyone human in months, not since /it/ happened. The day the dead rose, the day his life ended. No matter how hard he had fought, those beasts had taken everything. His family, his friends, everything he knew. It was a solemn time. The only reason that the blonde had dared to step foot on the ravished streets was for supplies. The stores weren't rifled with, since he was the only survivor in the area. He could only hope there were more, but the absence of any living creatures disproved this. He assumed he was the only one left. But what the hell is a world with only you in it? 

The first five weeks, Katsuki searched under every stone, brick, and pebble to find any traces of others. He might have been an isolated person, but nobody can stay alone. But alas, he was forced to. Behind him dragged a baseball bat impaled with long nails. It was the most typical thing, but it worked. In another hand, he carried an automatic rifle over his shoulder. His face was covered with a filter mask, a orange tinted shield covering his eyes. A belt of bullets was draped over the opposite shoulder, on top of his heavy black bomber jacket. His shirt sported a white skull against a stark black background. The pants he wore were baggy camouflage, torn in multiple places from rough battling. His black combat boots stomped on the ground, kicking at a corpse that was in his way. 

 Corpses. That was the worse thing. Mangled beyond any real recognition, the only identifiable thing the smell of blood and rot. Katsuki had the honor of stumbling upon his family's bodies in the third week, helplessly torn to shreds. It had been the first real breakdown he had. Many had followed since, and none were easy. That day he snapped, absolutely shattered. That day he built himself an ironclad fortress, and it was the same day he fashioned the bat he carried. He would have his revenge, and it wouldn't be pretty. Not at all. 

 He walked passed the body, pushing on towards the store. Since it was the middle of the day, not many of the undead were active, and he didn't see any as he slunk into the store. The windows were shattered, and he stepped through the frame of where they used to be. His feet crunched on the glass, and he held tight to his bat. He had a large military style backpack on, perfect for carrying whatever supplies he needed. The blonde was ripping items from shelves when he heard a footstep. He cocked his gun and whipped around, only to see not a zombie, but a person. And behind them, a hungry undead. "Get down!" He shouted, shooting the beast in the head. The brains splattered over the wall and he glared down at the other person. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, the barrel of his gun pressed against their forehead.