Jessica: The Viper’s Strike

Yang Tian's heart raced—the image before him was a reflection. That meant the zombie was positioned behind him on his left! Quickly, he ducked, feeling a rush of air above him as a heavy body crashed forward but missed.

He steadied his stance and, carrying the weight of the zombie, forced it backward with a powerful shoulder thrust. His right hand barely had time to aim the gun, so instead, he grabbed his fruit knife from his waist with his left hand, skillfully flipping it into a reverse grip. He swiftly closed the distance and slashed across the zombie's neck.

The blade wasn't sharp enough to fully decapitate, leaving only a small strip of flesh holding the zombie's head. It wobbled, finally collapsing to the floor, as the severed head rolled free in a pool of blood.

Panting, Yang Tian looked at the fruit knife in his left hand and the FN Five-Seven in his right, muttering, "What the hell? Why didn't I just use the gun?"

Suddenly, a loud, guttural howl echoed from afar. It was a wild, raspy sound, filled with fury, that pierced the silence of the small town, leaving an eerie stillness. Then, more howls erupted, one after another, emerging from alleys, storefronts, parks, and playgrounds. The once quiet city turned into a symphony of ominous shrieks and wails, echoing in the apocalyptic night.

Yang Tian quickly stood up, unsure of what the howls meant, but he knew he had to secure the villa. He needed to lock every door and window, search for any food that might keep him going for the night, and prepare to defend himself. He would take the evening to study these newly acquired skills and make a plan for the days ahead.

Meanwhile, in another part of Wildcat City

Inside an abandoned warehouse, six men and one woman rested—hardened mercenaries, fully armed and alert.

"Boss, did you hear that? That thing finally showed itself!" said a tall, rugged mercenary nicknamed "Tiger." With a full beard and an M4A1 assault rifle in hand, he looked every bit the seasoned soldier.

"That's exactly what I was worried about." The leader, "Silver Fox," clapped a heavy hand on Tiger's shoulder, replying in a calm voice. "Now that it's not hiding, it's likely taunting us. I suspect our job just got a whole lot harder."

"Screw the difficulty! I'm sick of this place, dealing with all these damn zombies." Tiger grumbled, his voice full of frustration. "Let's finish this mission, kill that bastard, and get out."

"And then what?" Another mercenary, a young man with sharp eyes and a mocking tone, chimed in. "We hand in our report, just to get sent right back out again? Those old bastards at HQ are leeches—they'll work us to the bone if we let them." His codename was "Hound."

Tiger's eyes narrowed as he strode toward Hound. "You should watch that mouth of yours, pup, before I shut it for you."

Feigning fear, Hound dramatically patted his chest and retorted, "I've told you a thousand times—don't call me 'pup!' My codename is Hound!"

"Enough, you two." A large, quiet man leaning against the wall finally spoke. He was the squad leader, known as "Lion," and his calm authority was unmistakable.

The other team members continued their tasks, accustomed to this frequent bickering.

Hound turned away with a scoff and made his way to the only female member of the team. "Hey, Jessie… don't be so cold. We could find something interesting to talk about," he said, trying to break the ice.

The woman was busy cleaning a massive Barrett M95 sniper rifle, its gleaming silver frame a testament to its power. Ignoring Hound, she continued her work with focused precision.

"If that topic's boring, we could find another one," Hound persisted, his eyes betraying his interest.

Jessica's hands paused. She turned, her icy gaze narrowing as she responded, "It's Jessica. You'll use my codename during missions."

"Fine, fine… Viper, no need to be so cold," Hound replied, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Jessica ignored him, meticulously polishing her rifle. The other mercenaries couldn't help but snicker, amused by Hound's repeated failures.

Finally, Jessica's patience snapped, and she looked up, her tone laced with irritation. "Get lost."

Hound's smile faded as he asked, "What did you say?"

"I said, get lost." Her icy gaze turned even colder, leaving no room for argument.

Hound clenched his jaw, but before he could reply, Lion tossed aside his cigarette and began checking his gear. "Break's over. Let's move out," he commanded.

Jessica shot Hound a look, slung her Barrett over her shoulder, and walked out without another word.

Seething, Hound spat on the ground and muttered, "One day, you'll be begging at my feet."

Not far away, Jessica's eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable as she registered the threat.