He was a walking arsenal with knives strapped to his armor at forearms, biceps, chest and back. Two smaller throwing knives protruded from his boots. Across his back, a large Claymore peeked over his head.

He was a walking arsenal. Deadly. Powerful. Angry at the world. His deep black eyes burned with flame. His lantern jaw was clenched with determination. He eld himself erect, his arms resting easily at his sides. Suddenly, the call came and he swept into the undead hordes ahead of him, knives leading the way. His word came out at the last instant, slashing through the air to decapitate and dismember every zombie in his reach. Sweat poured down his eyes, mixed with blood from a lucky swipe by one of the monsters. He growled low, twisted and stabbed the offending creature in the chest. Tearing the blade free, he started ahead when suddenly....

"CUT!!!" The man stopped, breathing heavily, his gaze turning out toward those watching him. The director was there. The producer, the gaffer, the cameramen. He took a deep breath, letting the warrior inside him sleep. "Good job! But, I think we need another take."

The actor grinned. He was a walking arsenal.