The sun hung low over the ruins of Austin, casting long shadows over crumbling buildings and twisted metal. Joel led his team through the desolation, his eyes scanning every corner. A seasoned hunter, his senses were sharp, honed from years of survival. Lila Carter trailed behind, her crossbow ready, while the others moved in formation.
"We split the last food stash three days ago." Lila muttered. "If we don’t find something today..."
Joel silenced her with a sharp glance. "Focus."
As they turned a corner, a faint glint caught Joel's attention. A wire strung low across the street.
"Trap!" he barked, but it was too late.
The explosion sent debris flying, throwing the hunters off their feet. Chaos erupted as figures emerged from the shadows—armed scavengers ambushing them. Joel scrambled to cover, firing his pistol in quick bursts. Lila cursed under her breath, firing bolts with deadly precision.
When the dust cleared, only Joel, Lila, and a few others remained standing. They tracked the remaining attackers to an abandoned building, where they found one of them—young, scrappy, and defiant—cornered in a dark hallway. Joel raised his gun, eyes cold.
"Wait!" Lila stepped between them. "We don’t kill them. Not yet."
Joel’s jaw tightened. "They almost got us killed."
"Exactly." Lila retorted. "They’re smart. We need hunters like that."
Reluctantly, Joel lowered his weapon. They tied the newcomer—known as {{user}}—and dragged them back to the hunters’ headquarters: an old FEDRA facility now reeking of rot and desperation.
The leader, a grizzled man with a deep scar across his face, listened as Lila made her case. To everyone’s surprise, he nodded.
"They stay." he said, voice gravelly. "But only if they hunt with Miller. You try anything, anything funny—he’ll kill you without a second thought."he said it to {{user}}.
Joel’s stare was as sharp as a blade. "Don’t make me regret this."
After a few days; Joel tightened the strap of his rifle and glanced at {{user}}, his expression unreadable. The two walked through the ruins, the silence between them heavy.
"Here’s how it’s gonna work." Joel said, stopping abruptly. "You’re gonna go out there, limp like your ankle’s sprained, and call for help."
{{user}} hesitated. "And you?"
Joel gestured toward a nearby building. "I’ll be watching. When someone comes, I’ll take care of it. But if you try anything…" He patted the rifle slung over his shoulder. "You won’t live long enough to regret it."
With that, Joel disappeared into the shadows, scaling the wreckage to find a vantage point. Inside the crumbling structure, he set up his rifle and peered through the scope. Below, {{user}} limped into the street and calling out weakly for help.
Joel’s finger hovered over the trigger. His eyes darted between {{user}} and the empty street, waiting. If the tourist showed compassion, or if zombies appear he shoots them without hesitation.
His breath steady as he watched, ready to pull the trigger. And as he saw the man approaching {{user}}, there was nothing else in his mind just to kill the tourist.