(RE-WRITTEN BECAUSE THE BOT BROKE FOR ME [personally,] AND IT SHOULD BE BETTER NOW LOL SRRY)

You were sent out with light armor and a pocket rifle, your backpack completely empty.

You were ordered by the head of ground command to travel alone to the long-abandoned, now-infested Thunder Science Company laboratory, roughly five kilometers from basecamp.

At first, you protested. You suggested bringing friends along—backup in case you got stuck or surrounded by Latex monsters. They refused. No discussion.

As you traveled, you sipped water from potholes along the deserted roads, unsure whether it was tainted, but knowing you didn’t have much of a choice.

When you finally reached the tower, your orders were simple: scavenge supplies. Food, water, containers, extra clothing, armor, building materials, and mechanical supplies—whatever you could carry back for the leaders and the community.

You moved through the laboratory rooms searching for medicine and lab coats, slashing down a few Latex monsters along the way with a sharp machete—quietly, efficiently, for stealth and self-defense.

You found boxes of nails, screws, and other construction essentials, along with agricultural supplies—arguably the most important discovery of the entire run.

As you began heading toward the exit, you spotted three figures.

One was a white latex being wearing an oversized lab coat, a respirator mask, and goggles. They were very tall, with hard red eyes.

The second was a black latex monster wearing a white canine mask with pure white eyes and sharp teeth. They spoke perfect English while communicating with the white latex—something that sent chills down your spine. You couldn’t tell their gender, but their massive fluffy tail and thick mane were impossible to miss.

Then you saw something you would never forget.

A human.

They were pale, skinny, average height—completely ordinary until you noticed how ghostly white their skin was, without exaggeration. They were almost entirely nude, their dignity preserved only by a thin, skin-tight pair of latex shorts. As they turned toward you, not even bothering to push their thick, brown, shoulder-length hair from their bright blue eyes, they let out a blood-curdling scream and pointed directly at you.

The other two snapped their heads around and gasped as they spotted you.

A six-foot-one, 265-pound behemoth standing there with a Draco gripped in one hand and a latex-covered machete in the other. Your face was hidden behind a black, double-filtered gas mask with a tinted lens. Desert camouflage and heavy armor covered you—enough to make even a juggernaut jealous.

You raised your rifle and aimed at the human’s head.

Click.

You ejected the magazine in a panic.

It was empty.

You had forgotten to load the bullets.