The Artist stared at the skills on his phone. Knife Mastery and Mind of the Artist made since but what was Painted in Blood. Then the words "Wave 1 Start" flashed across his screen.

While lost in thought, the bus pulled to a stop. The Artist could see clearly that the car in front of them had stopped. the driver of said car had hit something and got out to check. What the driver saw was something odd. It was a small black blob with four legs and a white mask.

The creature jumped at the driver digging its teeth into her neck. Quickly the creature pulled back its head ripping a large chunk of the woman skin off. In a panic the driver tried to stop the large amount of bleed but fell dead. Throwing the skin down its throat the creature looked unsatisfied. At same time even more creatures came out of the manhole and into streets.

Most of them looked towards the bus that had bright light shining towards them. Three of them jumped onto the window of the bus and began banging their head against the window over and over again. Cracks could be seen, beginning to form on the glass.

The Artist walked over to the back door of the bus and yelled, "Back door please." the bus driver snapped out of his trance and opened the doors letting the people inside the bus out.

When the bus driver ran out he was immediately mauled by two of the creatures. He stood no chance. As for the other passengers only one of them were killed. The Artist was unlucky himself as another one of the creatures ran at him. He didn't panic one bit and quickly pulled his knife out of his pocket. He severed the two front legs of the creature. Without its front legs the creature was stuck on the ground unable to stand up. The Artist turned around and curb stomped the creature. Blood sprayed all over his shoe, but the Artist didn't care. He pulled out a red piece of cloth and wiped his knife clean and put it away.

The bus didn't get far so he would have to walk home. So he began walking, and along the way he saw may more of the creatures he saw at the bus. Each were either feasting on a dead body or attacking a person. A few tired to attack him but were unsuccessful and ended up as paint on the side walk.

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Once at his apartment complex he noticed a group of people running out of the building. The Artist stared at those who were running out. He knew most of the people in the building and were on very good terms with each of them. After all he needed to seem as normal as possible.

A woman who looked to be in mid twenties ran up to the Artist with blood splashed over her pajamas and face. "Brandon! Thank god you are here. These things started to come out of nowhere and started killing everyone even the children!" Tear began to build in her eyes.

The Artist looked at the girl and felt no sadness in him what so ever but just in case the whole event was to resolved he need to act as if he was a normal being.

He looked down at the girl and spoke with a smile, "It's okay Mari, I will see what I can do. Make sure to gather everyone you can into a group for protection. I will see if I can find anyone who is in trouble and bring them to you." The Artist could feel vomit building in his throat but resisted the urge.

Mari nodded her head and ran over to the group of woman and men. Mari began to speak to them and they all seemed to agree. They all took up weapons and began to barricade a room on the second floor. "Brandon we will be in room 211 if you find anybody. Don't die out there." Mari shouted as she ran back into the room.

When Mari was out of sight he drop the masquerade and began searching rooms. Most rooms were filled with dead bodies, the creatures, or a few survivors. The creatures he found he quickly dispatched, and the survivors he found he guided back to room 211.

What was most interesting to the Artist was when he arrived at the last room. He saw a girl standing in the middle of her living room and around her was the bodies of mostly likely her family covered in deep cuts and the creatures served into multiple parts. In the child's hand was a knife covered in blood. The child had most likely killed her own parents with a smile, a smile of pleasure.