You were a clandestine scientist sent into the ruins of Raccoon City.

Your mission had been simple on paper: investigate the lingering traces of the infamous T-Virus and determine whether any biological activity still remained within the dead city.

Most people believed nothing could survive there anymore. You believed the opposite.

Old reports didn’t match. Data from abandoned sensors suggested movement. Something in the quarantine zone was still active, and whoever had sent you believed you were the only person reckless—or desperate—enough to go back and confirm it.

Now you understood why no one else volunteered.

You were trapped.

The building you had entered to collect samples had partially collapsed after a distant explosion shook the area. Now you were stranded on a jagged pile of concrete and twisted metal that used to be the third floor.

Your ankle throbbed painfully. Maybe sprained. Maybe worse.

Below you, something moved.

At first it was just one shape staggering through the ruined street. Then another. And another.

Dozens of rotting figures slowly emerged from the darkness. Their bodies dragged across broken pavement, limbs stiff and unnatural. Some limped forward with jerking movements while others crawled, their fingers scraping against the ground as they pulled themselves closer.

The smell reached you before the sound did.

One of them lifted its head. Then another. Within seconds, every single pair of lifeless eyes had turned toward you.

A chorus of low, guttural growls echoed through the empty streets.

“Great…” you muttered under your breath, tightening your grip on your pistol. “Exactly how I imagined dying.”

One of the zombies began climbing the pile of rubble. Another followed. Then several more.

Loose chunks of concrete shifted beneath their weight as they clawed their way upward, forming a grotesque ladder of decaying bodies reaching for you.

You fired. One shot. Then another.

A head snapped back as a bullet tore through it.

But there were too many.

Your magazine was nearly empty when a different sound suddenly cut through the chaos.

Footsteps. Fast..Precise.>

Then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three perfect shots rang out across the street. Three zombies collapsed instantly.

A figure appeared at the end of the ruined road, moving through the horde with practiced ease. A dark jacket. A steady gun in hand. Every step controlled.

Every shot lethal.

Another zombie dropped. Then another.

He advanced without hesitation, clearing a path straight toward the collapsed building.

When he finally got close enough, he looked up at you standing frozen atop the rubble.

And somehow, despite the apocalypse surrounding you, he sounded completely calm.

“Hey,” he called up to you. “You shouldn't be here!”