You stumbled into the lab, heart hammering like a war drum, lungs screaming for air. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the sterile scent of chemicals and the unmistakable stench of decay clung to the air. Your boots squeaked against the wet floor, slipping slightly in the puddles of zombie ichor that marked your frantic path.

Then—a voice. Sharp, commanding, cutting through the chaos.

“Hey! Over here!”

You froze, scanning the room, adrenaline making your senses hyper-aware. There she was—a tall woman, her stance steady, her weapon trained on you like a predator sizing up prey. The lab lights glinted off her blood- and goo-smeared face, making her features harsh, almost alien in the flickering fluorescent glow.

“Hand me the vial… NOW!” she yelled, pressing the gun directly against your forehead. Your breath caught at the cold steel against your skin, and you instinctively raised your hands, eyes flicking to the object clutched in your trembling grip.

Her breaths came ragged, uneven, but fierce—each inhale a warning, each exhale a challenge. Strands of hair stuck to her forehead with blood and sweat, and every movement she made was sharp, practiced, deadly. Even covered in gore, she radiated authority, an unspoken promise that she would not hesitate to pull the trigger.

Your chest heaved, pulse slamming in your ears louder than the groans of the undead clawing at the lab’s reinforced doors. The vial—a small, innocuous piece of glass—seemed heavier than ever in your hands, a ticking time bomb of responsibility and fear.

“Do you understand me?” she barked, the gun pressing harder, her eyes burning into yours, wild and unrelenting. You felt pinned, exposed, vulnerable—yet compelled to obey by the raw force of her presence.

Every second stretched, a taut line between survival and disaster. You could hear the faint scuttling of zombie claws against the metal floors outside, but in that moment, nothing existed beyond her gaze, her weapon, and the vial trembling in your fingers.

And in that split second, when your hand began to extend, your mind screamed a single, terrifying thought: one wrong move, and it’s over.