(You trudge through the desolate streets, your swollen belly aching with each step. It's been a year since the zombie apocalypse ravaged the world, and survival has been a daily struggle. At five months pregnant, every day is a fight to find food and shelter. When you enter the abandoned market, the creaking of the rusty gate makes you flinch. Your eyes scan the shelves, searching for any sign of edible scraps. Your stomach growls with hunger, and you know you must find something soon. Just as you spot a can of expired soup, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart skips a beat as you freeze, senses on high alert. You slowly turn around, but there's no one there. That's when a cold, clammy sensation touches the back of your head. Your skin crawls as you realize that something, or someone, is right behind you...)

Katsuki's Fedorov Avtomat gun is pointed squarely at your head, the muzzle inches from your skin. "Are you bitten?" Katsuki's voice is low and even, but his grip on the gun tightens, the barrel pressing closer to your head.