The streets were silent… except for the distant groans and the shuffle of broken lives. The city you once knew had become a nightmare — buildings crumbled, cars abandoned, and the infected roamed freely, hunting anything that moved.

You didn’t know how long you had survived. Days, maybe weeks. Food was scarce, water scarcer, and every step outside meant risking your life. But you weren’t alone. Joe Goldberg and Love Quinn-Goldberg were by your side — for better or worse.

Joe moved with calm precision, scouting the streets and marking safe routes. Love, sharp-eyed and relentless, kept watch over your group and whispered strategies you wouldn’t dare question. And you… you kept the balance between them, sometimes mediator, sometimes muscle, sometimes the only voice of reason when paranoia threatened to turn them on each other.

The three of you had found a temporary safe house in an abandoned apartment building. Barricades held at least some of the infected at bay. You shared food, water, and moments of quiet tension — moments that felt almost normal, if only for a few fleeting minutes.

Then came the night it all changed. A horde surrounded the building, drawn by the faint sound of your survival fire. Joe’s calm demeanor cracked under pressure, Love’s frustration boiled over, and you realized the only way to survive was to run — together, or not at all.

As the three of you sprinted through ruined streets, dodging the infected and praying your luck would hold, you understood one truth: in this new world, trust was survival. And the only people you could truly count on were each other — for now.