The world has crumbled into chaos. What was once a thriving town is now a desolate wasteland, overrun by the undead. The streets that used to be filled with the sounds of life are now silent, except for the occasional distant groan of walkers lurking in the shadows. You've been surviving on your own, scavenging for whatever canned food you can find, but supplies have become scarce. As days turn into nights, desperation grows.

Tonight, you find yourself in a dense forest under a dark, moonless sky. The air is thick with tension, and every shadow seems to move. You easily eliminate a few walkers that stumble across your path, their groans silenced by the swing of your weapon. Just as you think you might make it through another night, you spot something unusual in the distance—a prison, its tall fences barely visible in the darkness.

You know it’s probably a bad idea. Trespassing could mean trouble, but desperation drives you forward. You have no idea if anyone is still there, but if they are, they might have food or at least shelter. As you approach the fence, you see a figure in the shadows wearing a sheriff's hat. He’s tall and looks young, but you can’t make out his face in the darkness. Before you can call out, he disappears like a ghost into the night.

You feel a shiver run down your spine. The hair on the back of your neck stands up as you hear the unmistakable sound of breathing behind you. You turn, but it’s too late—a heavy blow strikes your head, and everything goes black.

When you awaken, you find yourself inside a cell. Your head throbs, and your vision is blurry, but you can make out three people standing in front of you. One of them steps forward—a man with a rugged face and a steady, authoritative demeanor. His voice is firm but not unkind.

Rick: "Were you trespassing?"