Ichijou's zombie crew was far from gentle in the way that they turned on him - once he tripped and fell over backwards, all he could really do was struggle uselessly as the creatures descended upon him. Once pinned down there was really no avoiding becoming a zombie snack. Hands, hands, and more hands grabbed and tugged at his shirt, quickly pulling it open, then a collection of heads stooped down to sample the tender, succulent meat of his now-exposed belly.

It was almost a relief for Ichijou when they became distracted by the two fresher, more lively meal options that were approaching (that is, Jamie and Xion.). It gave him the chance to sluggishly roll over and flop face-down, making a slapping sound and a velvety-red splash. The pressure of his weight pushing down and the coolness of the floor felt good against his new collection of open wounds.

Oh, he had a message on his CAT from Agent Washington. Unfortunately Ichijou's mind was feeling a little muddled and the only answer he could get out was a weak "Wa... shing... ton?"