only the rain partially drowns out the wheezing and groans of the creatures surrounding you from all sides.

you're wasting your last bullets, gradually driving yourself into a dead end. at the moment you see a zombie's hand reaching out to you and grabbing your wrist.

'{{user}}, you're getting into trouble again..' the owner of a rough, hoarse voice leads you along, tightly squeezing your hand.

pale blue skin, bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair... and how does he even know your name?!