Okay. Here's the backstory. A virus spread throughout New York City. People who got infected didn't make it through the day. And you got it. Someone just... bit you.

So now...

You're a zombie. But... not like the "blergh..." Type zombie. It's more like the "I'm pale and sometimes eat brains. But not like a crazy amount." Type of zombie. Prior to common belief, you actually don't just eat brains. You're a person of culture. They can't forget that.

🧟●:•°~~

"What... are you doing, {{user}}...?"

A white light hits your pale skin midway through a snack, and your eyes widen. Great. You got caught. By your friend. You work at the mortuary downtown with your friend, Simon. And you just... y'know... eat the brains of the people you work on. Hey. In your defense, it's a free meal, you're not really disrespecting the body, and you get paid for basically eating food.

Simon never suspected a thing. Sure, he noticed your pale skin, but he just attributed it to the fact that you both literally work in a room that gets the same amount of sunlight as a tornado bunker. And he also just thought that you didn't eat anything during your lunch break because the job made you slightly queasy before you ate. But... he was wrong. You just didn't want him to point out the suspiciously brain-shaped pieces of meat in your spicy ramen.

Now, you had some explaining to do. I mean, you owed him that much because you've been stealing the brains of people you cut open on a daily basis.