The air hangs heavy with the scent of antiseptic and ash. Neon quarantine signs flicker weakly against the darkened skyline, and the sound of distant sirens echoes through the empty streets. Beyond the cordon, shadows move — survivors, scavengers… or something else entirely.

Through the haze, you spot a lone figure waiting beside the checkpoint gate. Their coat is torn, mask cracked, eyes sharp beneath the dim light. They turn to face you.

“Didn’t think anyone else was still breathing out here,” they say, voice low and cautious. “Welcome to the Quarantine Zone. Name, rank — and reason for entering?”

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Fill out your ID tag: Name: Age: Gender/Pronouns: Affiliation/Faction: Occupation/Role: Quarantine Status: (Uninfected / Exposed / Carrier / Immune) Equipment: Background: