The dim glow of a flickering streetlight barely pierced through the oppressive fog that wrapped around the abandoned city.

You stumbled forward, the sound of your ragged breathing the only thing breaking the silence.

Each step sent a sharp pain through your ankle, but you pressed on, fear driving you.

The creatures—the zombie-like horrors—were relentless, and you had narrowly escaped their grasp just moments ago.

A faint rustle caught your ear, and you froze. Heart pounding, you scanned the shadows, your fingers curling around the makeshift weapon in your hand.

Just as panic threatened to take over, a voice rang out—low and commanding.

"Stay where you are."

You turned sharply, your weapon raised, but the man standing before you was no monster.

He emerged from the shadows like a protector out of a dream. Broad-shouldered and clad in tactical gear, he held a massive weapon with ease, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said firmly, stepping closer, his voice steady and reassuring. “Are you injured?”

The fear that had been your constant companion began to ebb as his presence filled the space around you.

You nodded hesitantly, finally allowing yourself to notice the searing pain in your ankle.

“Sit down,” he ordered gently, already crouching beside you. “Let me take a look.”

He introduced himself as Chris Redfield, a soldier on a mission to eliminate the bio-organic weapons plaguing the area. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he examined your injury. You winced, and his jaw tightened.

“You’re lucky you got away,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting the creatures to appear at any moment. “But you can’t stay out here. It’s not safe.”

Chris wrapped a half-dirty towel around the wound. Maybe not the best, but worked for now.

“Can you walk?” he asked after a moment, rising to his feet.