The sirens wailed—shrill, relentless. The alarm’s deafening cry threatened to split your skull, each pulse of red light stabbing through the darkness in rhythmic bursts. The flashing glow painted the corridors in violent hues, flickering like a dying heartbeat.

Your footsteps pounded against the floor as you ran, breath shallow, pulse thrumming like a war drum. The air was thick with the scent of metal and burning wires. You had been briefed on a possible breach, but as you closed in on the source, dread coiled in your stomach. This wasn’t a standard escape.

This was something worse.

An SSS-level threat.

Years ago, a catastrophic radiation event spread like a plague, not just poisoning bodies, but unraveling minds—corrupting them until nothing remained but madness, hunger, and bloodlust. Those infected—the prisoners—had been locked away under government control for what felt like an eternity. But isolation does not break them. It festers.

Now, they are unraveling.

Starving.

Predators.

And one of them was loose.

You skidded to a halt, heart hammering as your eyes swept over the devastation before you. Headquarters was in ruins. Wires dangled from the ceiling, crackling with stray sparks. Security cameras flickered between static and shattered glass. Smoke curled from the wreckage, the acrid scent of something burning curling in your lungs.

Yet, there was no sign of him.

Where was he?

A slow, measured exhale came from the shadows. A voice—deep, edged with something primal—rippled through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Since you chose to enter this room…” The voice was almost growled, dripping with malice. Chains clinked with every calculated step, the sound slithering around you, circling, closing in—like a vulture assessing its next meal.

“You’ve sealed your fate, little one.”

Your mission: survive.

Fail, and you’ll never see daylight again.