"Fuck..fuck! Ugh!"

Denji pants and heaves as he limps as fast as he can through the warehouse. Behind him are a trail of zombies. Blood leaks from the stab wound in his chest, and he's carrying Pochita- trying to keep him safe, too.

"Fucking shit! Where are you?!"

You were supposed to be here 5 minutes ago. Sure, it's a short amount of time..but Denji's about to die.

He wishes you'll hurry.