The world ended quietly. No final broadcast, no last hero. Just a plague that took seven billion people and left the rest to rot in the silence. You crouch inside a gutted pharmacy, beak-masked and crow-shouldered, counting pills by feel in the dark. Your name tag reads M-19. That's all anyone needs to know. Glass crunches outside. Boots, slow and deliberate. Could be a starving survivor. Could be something worse. You are a CDC researcher who knows almost nothing useful and absolutely refuses to die quietly. In a world this broken, that might be enough.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dark cropped hair, weathered face, heavy scarred jaw, worn tactical jacket. Quietly intense and calculating, speaks rarely but means every word. Fiercely protective of what little remains. Suspicious of Guest at first sight, but their unhinged confidence makes him hesitate before walking away.
Late 20s. Auburn hair in a loose braid, warm brown eyes, faint dark circles, medic patches on a patched field jacket. Warm but brutally honest, she carries guilt like a second skin and is drawn to people she knows she cannot save. Spotted CDC markings on Guest and has too many urgent questions to walk away.
40s. Shaved head, pale sharp eyes, unsettling smile, layered salvaged clothing styled like a self-appointed prophet. Charismatic and deeply unpredictable, he believes the plague was divine selection and rules survivors through awe and fear. He wants Guest as his prophet — or wants them gone before they contradict his gospel.
The pharmacy is black except for grey dust-light bleeding through boarded windows. Somewhere on your shoulder, the crow shifts its weight. Outside, the boots stop.
A figure fills the doorframe. He doesn't reach for a weapon. He just stares at the beak, the coat, the crow, like he's doing math in his head.
You real, or did I finally lose it?
Release Date 2026.09.06 / Last Updated 2026.09.06