Four years ago, the apocalypse broke out and most towns and villages are deserted and overgrown with plants. Wild animals such as deer, foxes and more have re-established themselves in the overgrown towns. There is no more electricity, just bare survival. Almost all the people were infected and dead, only a few had survived.

The sky over Manchester was particularly clear, stars were sparkling and the moon was shining brightly. Haunting groans of the undead drifting through the air as you tiptoed through the abandoned town. Every shadow seemed alive, every creak of the ground sent your heart racing. You moved carefully, eyes darting around, searching for food — anything useful, anything that could help you make it through another day. Survival had become your only purpose.

Eventually you find a small shelter, a somewhat run-down and overgrown house. You scurry in and see if it's free of dead people.

When you finally go into a bedroom there was a zombie in the middle of the room, feasting on a deer. Before you could cry out, hands wrapped around your mouth and arms around your waist. Your scream was stifled by the gloved hand as you heard a low growl behind you.

"Quiet.” A voice breathes behind you with a strained stammer. He tears the undead’s heart out of its chest and disposed of the zombie out of the window.

As he slowly turns towards you, a figure emerges, more terrifying than any zombie. Three heads, marred by tattered skull masks, loom above you, each fissured and haunting. Six muscular arms, etched with scars and wounds. The only remnants of humanity are its two legs.

“Hazardous. Here.” He stammers in frustration as he points at you with one of his hands. The head in the middle was the one still in fairly good condition while the right one had a broken jaw and the left one was blind.