I don't own Dead Rising but that goes without saying. If I said otherwise, would you believe me? Anyway, this story will stay in Crossovers until a Dead Rising category is put up. For the record it's NOT a crossover. I'm sorry.

Alright, before I begin writing this, here's a short rant. I don't know about any of you, but the cliffhanger ending of Dead Rising PISSED ME OFF. It was a great game with a lackluster finish. They were doing great until they turned to text. I don't want to read that Frank got away; I want to see the little bastard driving away with a big freakin grin on his face while baldy gets eaten by the living dead. And what about Isabela and everyone else? Come on Capcom don't be cruel. You had a choice, but now you're obligated to make a sequel whether you like it or not. With that said, it's time to begin my story. Here's my own version of the events that would have occurred had the game not ended at such a pointless moment. By the way it isn't comedy. Surprise!

Enjoy…

Isabela Keyes balanced atop the overturned jeep, kicking away the occasional zombie who managed to get close. Despite the obvious threat of the swarming undead, her attention was drawn to the large tank several meters away. Atop the machine was Frank West, a freelance photojournalist who only recently had become an unofficial zombie slayer. Frank was on his knees, his fists pressed against the steel of the tank. He paid no attention to the morbid scene occurring below him. A few of the zombies had turned their attention to Brock Mason, the former commander of the Special Forces unit sent to "clean up" the Willamette incident. Thanks to Frank and the zombies, however, it seemed Brock's mission had failed miserably. Frank rose to his feet, turning his gaze to the gathering dead. When he saw the creatures for the first time, he knew them only as bloodthirsty beasts. Now he understood what they truly represented. Carlito Keyes' words echoed through his head as his eyes moved from face to face. "All they do is eat and eat and eat, growing in number. Just like you good red white and blue Americans". Brock Mason had taught Frank that humans could be just as cruel and brutal as any zombie. He reflected on everything the government had done. The thought of every death they caused every life they destroyed made him feel sick. He looked to the sky and released a loud, agonized roar. He mourned for the survivors lost. He mourned for Santa Cabeza. He mourned for Jessie, Brad, Otis, even Carlito. Everything that had been lost sent another wave of anger and sorrow through him. When he returned his attention to everything around him, he glanced over at Isabela, whose eyes were fixed upon him. Noticing the amount of zombies making their way toward her, Frank decided it was time to get out of there. He turned to the hatch of the tank and climbed inside. After examining the complicated controls, he maneuvered the massive construct clumsily over to the jeep. Once the two vehicles were close enough to each other, Isabela pulled herself onto the top of the tank and made her way into the hatch. Frank tried to turn the tank toward the exit, but instead shot several missiles at the jeep, destroying it completely along with several zombies. "Well, at least we know that works…" he sighed. Isabela shook her head and pushed Frank away from the controls, then quickly turned the tank toward a nearby alleyway that presumably led out of the area. She turned to Frank and said, "You really should be more careful Frank. That's your problem you're too careless." Frank laughed and replied, "Well if being careless got me this far, I can't say I regret that particular choice. Anyway, why didn't you tell me you knew how to drive a tank?" Isabela smirked and said, "There's a lot about me I haven't told you Frank. When you get mixed up in crazy schemes like this all your life, you pick up on certain things." She turned the tank carefully around a corner. Frank looked at her a moment, then frowned and said, "Look kid, if this partnership is going to work out you're going to have to start telling me these things ahead of time. I'm sick of hearing everything at the last minute." Isabela cocked an eyebrow and turned to Frank once again. "Partnership? What exactly do you mean by that?" Frank opened his mouth as if to speak, then began staring at the monitor, watching their progress. He hadn't really thought about what he'd do after they escaped. He would probably return to his apartment, sell his story, and enjoy life until the parasite kicked in. There wasn't much else to be done. Still, he worried about what would become of Isabela. With Carlito dead, there was nobody left to watch over her. He found it hard to imagine leaving her alone, but due to his infection he was an immediate danger to her and anyone else he came in contact with. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, wishing that there were some way to remove the parasite. As he continued to think, the strain of the past few days took effect. Within seconds Frank was asleep.

Isabela looked over at Frank and smiled. Normally she wouldn't let him leave her to do all the work, but she knew what he had been through lately. He deserved to rest after everything that had been forced on him. Isabela herself had known about the zombies for years, but it was all still new to Frank. As Isabela guided the tank through the passageway, she thought about Carlito. She had known about the dangers of his mission, but she still found it hard to believe that he was gone. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she realized once and for all that she would never see her brother again. His remains were doomed to rot in the basement of that god-forsaken mall. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Frank was awake again. "Hey come on now, buck up. It's over, alright? Everything's going to be fine." Isabela smiled at him and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then returned her attention to the monitor. Not far ahead was an opening in the passageway. They had finally made it. The tank rolled out of the passageway and into the streets of Willamette. Few Special Forces posts remained in the town, and none of them seemed to be suspicious of the tank. A few soldiers even waved as it passed. Frank laughed when he saw this. Obviously the news of Brock's death hadn't spread. With this cover, it was easy to slip past the guards and out of the town. It took about three hours for Isabela to find another town. At last, they came across Alamosa, Colorado. Isabela parked the tank outside of the city to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Within a few hours, they had made their way through the city and found an inn. They decided to wait till morning to find a flight out of there. In the room, Frank paced about while Isabela sat on the bed, examining the locket Carlito had left her. They remained silent, and the only sound was the loud music blaring from the room next to theirs. Finally, Frank banged his fist against a wall. "That's it, I'm going over there. These jackasses aren't going to turn that shit down anytime soon. I'll be right back." Isabela nodded at him and returned her attention to the locket. Frank pulled on his coat and stepped out of the room. He walked to the nearby door and knocked on it loudly. When the door opened, he could never have been prepared for what was on the other side. A man stood before him. He was about the same height as Frank, but with much shorter hair. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit and a white t-shirt. Playing cards at a table behind him were two other men in the same clothes. The man examined Frank for a moment, and then grinned broadly. "Hey Miguel! Reginald! You gotta check this out! Look who dragged himself out of the night of the shopping dead back there." The two men behind him looked up from their game and then ran toward Frank. They greeted him as though they were old friends, and Frank just stood staring at them. Miguel frowned at Frank's response. "What's wrong guy? Don't you recognize us?" Frank stepped forward, scowling menacingly. "You tried to beat me with a bat… you shot me… and you ran me over. Do you expect me to be glad to see you?" Reginald turned to the convict who had opened the door. "You hear that Sam? This bitch wants to act like he ain't shot nobody the whole time we were there. Come on dawg, you know it was all for kicks." Sam laughed and joined in. "Yeah. I thought only old chicks held grudges that long." Frank clenched his fist and glared at the convicts. "Whatever. Anyway, how did you get out of the mall? There were Special Forces everywhere." Miguel lit a cigarette and stepped toward Frank. "We got out the same way we got in, that jeep. It ain't that hard to figure out." Frank shook his head and stepped back, away from the door. "Well I'd love to stay and chat but I tend to shy away from people who have tried to kill me." The convicts waved and slammed the door on Frank, who turned and headed back into his own room. When he walked through the door, he found Isabela asleep on the bed. Frank hung his jacket on the back of a chair and moved toward the bed. "Finally. I never thought I'd see a real bed again." He collapsed onto the bed next to Isabela, who immediately turned and glared at him. He blinked at her a few times, then sighed and stood up. "Well, I guess the couch works too." Frank settled down on the couch, trying to make himself comfortable. He yawned and flipped the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. He stared at the ceiling, the events of the past few days flying through his mind. He thought of everything he and Isabela had been through. They had helped each other through the whole ordeal, and neither would have survived without the other. Despite that, Frank couldn't understand why Isabela was unwilling to share the bed. "Bitch." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, and he immediately regretted it as an alarm clock nailed him in the face. He grabbed his face, wiping the blood from his nose and tossing the clock aside. "Ow! Dammit, what was that for?" In the darkness, Frank heard Isabela laugh softly. "Goodnight Frank." Frank grumbled to himself for several minutes before finally falling asleep.

To be continued…

Ok now I have no idea whether I can write non-comedy stories. I've tried, and last time I got no reviews so please people. Help me out. Tell me what you thought. If enough people actually liked this I'll write more. Anyway this one's dedicated to every Dead Rising fan out there. And Otis. We'll miss you.