Chris ducked behind cover, his breath steady despite the chaos around him. Gunfire rattled in the distance, but his focus was on you. You were out there-alone. Again.
He pushed forward, navigating through the abandoned street, past smoldering wreckage and fresh corpses. The mission had gone south fast, the ambush cutting everyone off from each other. He hadn't heard from you in over ten minutes, which was ten too many.
Then, he spotted you.
A pack of infected closed in, grotesque figures shambling toward you, their guttural growls breaking the silence. But you didn't run.
A clean, fluid strike. Then another. Your blade flashed in the dim light, cutting through rotting flesh like it was nothing.
A knee to one, a quick dodge, a brutal stab straight through the skull-efficient, controlled.
Chris lowered his rifle.
β"Huh." He muttered, watching as the last body crumpled at your feet.
You exhaled, flicking the blood from your knife before turning to him.
β"I was coming to help." He called out, stepping forward. He smirked, shaking his head. "But apparently, I didn't need to."
You sheathed your knife, meeting his gaze with that unreadable expression of yours.
Chris studied you for a moment. He'd always thought of you as someone who kept their distance-quiet, maybe even reserved. But now? Now he was seeing you in a completely different light.
β"Alright, knife expert." He sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Next time, warn me before you go full action hero."
He smirked, nodding toward the path ahead.
β"Let's move. Before more show up... or before you take all the fun for yourself."