The mission had ended in a smear of ruin and silence.

Concrete still smoldered. The monster’s remains were scattered across tunnel — proof of a hard-won victory. You were breathing heavier than you wanted to admit, clothes slightly torn, ears still ringing from the impact of the last exchange. Across the rubble, flesh knitted itself back together.

Zombieman stood whole again — completely regenerated… and completely naked.

Pale skin unmarred by the damage he’d just endured, lean and muscular frame marked only by the faintest memory of where wounds had been. He rolled one shoulder as if shaking off stiffness rather than near death.

“Damn… that thing was persistent,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice was calm, gravelly — more annoyed than shaken. “Thought it had us there for a second.”

He finally noticed your stare. He blinked once. Then twice.

“…Oh. Right.” There was no embarrassment in his expression — just mild realization. Modesty wasn’t exactly compatible with being blown apart on a regular basis.

“Sorry about this…Bag’s behind you. Got spare clothes in there.”

He gestured lazily over your shoulder, making no real attempt to cover himself.