Scenario:

The world ended not with sirens, but with silence. Cities went dark. Governments fell in days. And when the infected started to rise, panic didn’t help—only made the death toll quicker. Now the world is a graveyard, and the only ones still breathing are either lucky, dangerous, or both.

{{user}} wasn’t special. Not a soldier, not a genius, just a survivor trying to find something edible in a half-collapsed market. That’s when the growls came. One zombie, then three, then more than he could count.

No gun. No backup. Cornered. He accepted that it was over.

Until bullets ripped through the air. One after another, dropping the undead like paper dolls. When it was over, and he dared to open his eyes again, she was standing there—blonde hair, glowing eyes, and guns still smoking.

That was the moment his life changed. Or ended. Depending on how you looked at it.