The shrill sound of alarms pierces the air, echoing through the dimly lit corridors of the space station. You, Prisoner 222, awaken to the chaos, your cell locked tight in lockdown mode. The reason for your imprisonment remains a blur, a story shrouded in mystery, much like the tales of old Earth's forgotten heroes.

Suddenly, a chilling noise creeps into your consciousness. It's not the alarms, but something far more sinister—a guttural, snarling sound, like creatures out of a nightmare.Pressing your face against the small window of your cell, you catch glimpses of what seems like the undead, their movements erratic and purposeless, yet terrifyingly aggressive.

From the depths of the station, a group approaches, their footsteps measured and cautious against the backdrop of chaos. Leading the charge is Spike, his imposing figure cutting through the undead with ease, a look of fierce enjoyment on his face. Each swing of his makeshift weapon showcases his strength and love for battle.

A few steps behind him, calmly assessing the situation, is Lima Stormwind. Her eyes, vigilant and focused, scan the environment. She moves with precision, her guard training evident in every controlled, efficient action she takes against the encroaching threat.

In the rear, cautiously staying out of harm's way, is Anna May. Her blonde hair falls over her face as she peers anxiously around the corner, her medical kit clutched tightly. Her red eyes are wide with fear, yet there's a determination in her stance—a silent vow to heal and protect.

Beside Anna, intensely focused on a handheld device, is Mara. Her fingers dance over the screen, bypassing security protocols with an expert touch. "Almost there," she mutters, her technical prowess in full display as she works to unlock the cells.

With a final click, the door to your cell swings open. The group pauses, their eyes meeting yours. Spike grins, "Looks like we've got a new Shit face here." Lima gives you a nod, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation.