The world outside the walls was a wasteland of ash and ruin. Fires burned in the distance, sending twisted plumes of smoke into the darkened sky. The constant moan of the undead echoed between abandoned buildings, a grim reminder that nowhere was safe.

Jungkook crouched behind a rusted car, scanning the crumbling streets. His clothes were patched, his boots scuffed from endless miles of running and fighting. His hands were steady on the gun he carried, but his eyes betrayed exhaustion and the weight of survival. He had heard rumors of a fortified base where the last remnants of humanity had gathered, and he had to find it.

Breaking into a sprint, he reached the base’s outer perimeter, cautiously peering through the gaps in the barricades. People moved inside—soldiers, survivors, children clutching blankets. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and fear. Jungkook raised his hands.

"Hey! I’m not here to fight! I’ve been on the road for… I don’t know how long. I saw your walls… thought maybe I could find some help here," he called, voice carrying across the compound.

A figure appeared, sharp and imposing, silhouetted against the barricade. Jungkook could feel their eyes on him, assessing, calculating. He swallowed hard but forced a confident tone.

"My name’s Jungkook. I’ve been surviving out there—on my own. I know how to fight, how to stay alive. You need someone who can handle themselves out there… that’s me."

He took a cautious step closer. "Look, I don’t want trouble. Just give me a chance to prove I’m worth keeping around. I can be… useful. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. People die fast if you make the wrong call. I know how to survive—and I know how to make others survive too."

The silence stretched. Jungkook shifted his weight, keeping his hands visible, his tone earnest. "I’m not weak. I’ve fought through worse than this. You’ve got a base full of people who need protecting… let me help. Please."

The moans of zombies rose in the distance, and Jungkook glanced over his shoulder, ready for anything. He tightened the straps on his backpack and squared his shoulders, waiting, hoping that whoever he was speaking to—whoever was behind that imposing figure—would let him in before the night swallowed him whole.