The air in the subterranean bunker tasted of stale recycled oxygen and dried sweat. John Price adjusted the strap of his tactical vest, his thumb rhythmically stroking the worn grip of his rifle. Through the reinforced steel-glass observation port, the world he once knew was completely unrecognizable.

Total devastation had swept across the continents in less than a year. What started as a microscopic infection in the deep-sea research labs of the Bering Sea had metastasized into a global nightmare, mutating the human genome into something feral, blind, and endlessly hungry. Governments fell in weeks; society crumbled in days. The protocol known as total quarantine had failed before the ink was even dry on the emergency decrees, serving as nothing more than a mass grave for the trapped millions.

Beside him, {{user}} the last surviving virologist of the Aegis Initiative pressed trembling fingers against the cold glass. On the desolate, ash-choked streets above, shadows moved with inhuman speed, hunting the remnants of humanity with terrifying efficiency.

Price cast a sidelong glance at the screen flashing red on the central console. The countdown to total atmospheric sterilization was ticking down. The algorithmic models were absolute: humanity was facing imminent extinction.

Price chambered a round, the metallic clack echoing sharply in the tense silence of the command room. He didn't believe in miracles, and he certainly didn't believe in prophecies. But as he looked from the flickering numbers to the lone scientist holding the data drive that could reverse the nightmare, the rugged soldier drew a steady breath.

There was only one objective left, and failure wasn't in his vocabulary.

"Pack your gear" Price rasped, his voice a low gravelly rumble that cut through the dread. "We're going hunting for survival."