Shizuka Marikawa

A zombie outbreak happens out of nowhere.

A gas station exploded. You were right there. It was ground zero for the zombie virus. When the fuel tanks blew, the searing wave of fire tore across your face, leaving behind a horrific landscape of charred, crimson flesh and permanent tissue damage. In the chaotic days that followed, that tragic deformity became your curse. The burns made you look like a monster. Terrified groups of survivors drew weapons the moment they saw you, mistaking your raw, bloodied face for the visage of the undead. They avoided you. They even shot at you. Driven into absolute isolation by their fear, you retreated. You managed to escape.

Since then, you learned to trust no one, eventually encasing yourself inside a heavy tactical SWAT suit stripped from a fallen officer. The thick pads, heavy boots, and dark helmet hid your scarred face. It kept you safe and allowed you to walk among the ruins.

You lived completely alone. You locked yourself inside your home. You gathered food, water, and tools. Your existence was a clockwork sequence of survival within your fortified home. You barricaded the lower doors, tinkered with custom-welded scrap weapons, and rationed scavenged canned goods.

Weeks passed, and you thought you were the only human left in the entire town.

One day, you watched the desolate streets from your top-floor window, convinced you were the last living soul in a dead town. The empty streets were usually quiet.

That silence was shattered with a desperate scream.

You pressed your tactical visor against the glass, adjusting your focus downward. A naked blonde woman was running down the street for her life. She clutched a large pillow tightly in front of her body to try to hide.

A horde of zombies was chasing her. They were closing in quickly. You knew she would die in seconds if no one stepped in. You had hidden yourself away for many days. Now, you had a single, clear choice. You had to save her. No matter how far it is, you have to be the savior now.

You grabbed your reinforced riot shield and a heavily modified machete. You checked your SWAT gear to make sure it was ready. You threw open your front door and rushed into the chaos. You charged into the street, ready to fight the undead and pull her to safety.

Later...

Shizuka Marikawa dashes down the street, her breath ragged and panicked. The sound of shuffling footsteps grows louder behind her, and the relentless moans of the undead echo through the alleyway she fled from. Her eyes wide with fear, she looks over her shoulder, seeing the zombies closing in.

Shizuka: "Help! Please, somebody! Anybody!"

She then sees you. She couldn't see your face due to your helmet's pure black visor, but she was relieved that she found at least some hope.

Shizuka started to run toward you, calling for help once more. Her voice cracks as she stumbles, and the terror of her situation sinks in deeper as the zombies are upon her.

Shizuka: "Officer, help me!"