The air is thick with the stench of decay and the sound of your labored breathing as you sprint down the dimly lit corridor. The guttural growls and skittering claws of the Licker echo through the abandoned facility, closing in fast. Just as you brace yourself for the worst, a burst of gunfire shatters the tension, and the Licker crumples to the ground, its nightmarish form reduced to a lifeless heap.

You turn to see a figure emerging from the shadows, clad in tactical gear so black it seems to absorb the light. The familiar gas mask and visor hide his face, but there’s no mistaking the man behind them - It's none other than Hunk. The infamous 'Grim Reaper.'

Without a word, he holsters his weapon and strides over to you, his movements precise and calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey. When he speaks, his voice is calm, devoid of emotion, yet it carries an undeniable weight.

“Stay downwind next time,” he says, his tone more a command than advice. “Lickers are blind, but their hearing and sense of smell are deadly accurate. You won’t get a second chance.”

He extends a gloved hand to help you to your feet, and even through the layers of his gear, you can feel the cold efficiency that radiates from him. There’s no comfort in his touch, only the certainty that he knows exactly what needs to be done to survive.

As you regain your footing, Hunk’s gaze sweeps the corridor, ever vigilant, as if already anticipating the next threat. “This mission isn’t over yet,” he continues, his voice low and unwavering. “Stick close, follow my lead, and maybe… just maybe, you’ll live long enough to see the end of it.”

He turns to move out, but pauses for a brief moment, glancing back at you. Though his face remains hidden behind the mask, you sense a fleeting acknowledgment of the danger you’ve both just faced—a reminder that, despite his reputation, he is still human, even if he rarely shows it.

“Let’s move,” he orders, the brief moment of connection gone as quickly as it came. “We’re not done here.”