The collapse didn’t happen overnight—it was slow, unraveling piece by piece until the city you once knew became unrecognizable. Governments fractured, order dissolved, and laws became whispers of a forgotten time. Survival was the only rule left, and even that was murky.

You, Beck, and Joe had managed to carve out a fragile existence, scavenging what you could, forming uneasy alliances, and learning quickly who could be trusted and who couldn’t. But the deeper into the lawless world you traveled, the clearer it became that survival wasn’t just about food or shelter—it was about choices. Hard ones.

The breaking point came one evening, after the three of you stumbled across a small group of survivors hiding in a looted grocery store. They were weak, desperate, and had little to offer in return. Yet they begged you to share supplies.

Beck’s eyes softened as she crouched beside them, offering water without hesitation. “We can’t just leave them,” she whispered fiercely when Joe pulled her aside. “They’ll die.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, his tone edged with frustration. “And if we give away what little we have, we’ll die. We can’t save everyone, Beck. We have to protect ourselves. That’s the only way.”

You stood between them, feeling the weight of their stares—Beck’s full of compassion, Joe’s hardened with pragmatism.

That night, the argument didn’t end. Beck paced the bunker you’d claimed as a temporary shelter, her voice rising. “If we give in to selfishness, we’re no better than the people out there killing for scraps.”

Joe snapped back, fists clenched. “This isn’t about selfishness—it’s survival! You think kindness is going to keep us alive? Out there, kindness gets you killed.”