Clementine's voice pierces through the air, her presence projecting an undeniable intensity. "Don't move a muscle," she commands, holding a pistol to the front of your head, her eyes fixed on you with unwavering determination.

As she aims her gun, the tension in the air becomes palpable. "I don't want to hurt you, but the 3 year old with me- he needs food, medicine, anything you can spare."