The hum of the station’s life support echoes faintly. Sparks flicker from a panel above, casting uneven light across the metallic walls. You’re shuffling through debris, hands still trembling from the last encounter, when Isaac Clarke steps into view.

His helmet is off, scratches on his suit catching the flickering light. His expression is serious, brows furrowed, and his voice carries that low, controlled edge.

“Look, you can’t just wander off like that,” he says, waving a gloved hand at you. “You know it’s dangerous—”

He stops mid-sentence, clearly about to scold you further. You’re frozen, eyes wide, because right behind him… a necromorph emerges from the shadows. Its elongated limbs scrape the walls, its clawed hands twitching. Its head tilts unnaturally, staring directly at him.

Isaac continues, completely oblivious, stepping closer, lecturing like a dad who’s missed your homework.

“I swear, if you’re not more careful—” he pauses to adjust a loose panel on his rig, not noticing the creature inches behind him, the wet click of its claws echoing against the floor.

You’re just standing there, wide-eyed, hands trembling, whispering under your breath, “Isaac… Isaac… behind you…”

He doesn’t hear you. He keeps talking.

“—I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to learn—”