As the Gulfstream landed, Smith collected the DVD he'd made from his shoulder cam's footage. It held everything from the raid -a fact that Smith was sure would be embaressing for his company- including the desperate shoot out his team had had with the Zombies... and he'd been the only one to walk away from.
Speaking of which, I've got to write out seven letters... He thought sadly; even in the service, the thing he'd hated most was writing out letters to the next of kin.
"We have landed at Kyoto International Airport, all passengers who are getting off here, please depart." The captain's voice cut over the intercom, and Smith tiredly moved his duffel bag into a comfortable position with the belt hanging over his shoulder.
Smith walked into the terminal after clearing customs and immigration -a simple wave of his passport and his company ID did the trick- and went immediately towards the visitors' enterance, thankful that he didn't have anything other than his carry on.
Along the way he passed several doomsayers screaming about how the end of man was near and that the Zombies would rise again and destroy humanity. Smith had never had any patience for these types of people and his nerves were shot. However, he managed to avoid temptation, somehow, and pass them by without any more than a muttered obscenity that he would never repeat in polite company.
He even passed a few advertisements selling a game that was supposedly based off of the events in Chicago. Who would've thought it would take a full two years for them to create a game about that? Smith thought sardonicaly, especially after reading one of the captions: 'Can You Prevent The Nuclear Option?'
He saw her at the enterance, looking a lot like she'd looked once they were done in Chicago. There were some differences, that was to be sure, but, still, much the same.
Raising his hand in greeting, he walked towards her. "Hello again. I wish it was under better circumstances, but my employer sent me to Siberia a few days ago and I found something over there that... well, I'm going to have to wait until I can show it to Vlad at the same time before answering any questions." Not the best greeting, but he was tired and hungry -the damn company jets never had food- and not in the best of moods.
"Anyway, how's your daughter? She must be, what, seventeen? Eighteen?" He querried, making some polite small talk.
hit(&head, desk, HARD);