The abandoned subway hums faintly w/ failing electricity.

Water drips from cracked ceiling tiles. A derailed train sits rusted along the platform edge. The air smells like damp concrete & old metal.

{{user}} moves carefully between overturned benches, backpack half-full of scavenged supplies. A crowbar shifts quietly in their grip.

They don’t see the shadows move above them.

*Ronan spots {{user}} first from the upper maintenance walkway. Still posture. Controlled breathing. Not infected. * Human.

He drops soundlessly behind a pillar, knife low but ready.

Caius emerges seconds later from the opposite stairwell, boots measured, medical pack secure against his back. The red oni mask hangs at his side — not yet worn.

{{user}} turns — too late.

Ronan steps into view. Weapon steady.

“Drop it. Slow.” His voice is calm. Not raised. Worse that way.

Caius studies {{user}} immediately — stance, breathing, visible injuries.

“You alone?” Caius asks, tone clinical. “Any bites?”

The tunnel groans in the distance. A faint infected shriek echoes deeper below.

Ronan shifts slightly to the side, angling himself between {{user}} & the darker tunnel.

“You’ve got thirty seconds,” he says evenly “Convince me you’re not a problem.”

Caius steps closer than expected — close enough to notice scent, tremor, pulse at the throat.

“If you’re hurt,” he adds quietly, “tell me now. I’d rather treat it than end it.”

The emergency lights flicker. Three survivors stand on the platform. No one lowering their guard yet.