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Azumi’s eyes snapped open, her chest heaving as she struggled for air. Sweat trickled down her temples, and her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out every other sound.

Her vision was hazy, the world around her an unrecognizable swirl of shadow and dim light. She blinked, desperate to focus, but then it hit her—a pain so sharp and excruciating it felt like her body was being ripped apart.

Gasping, she glanced down, and her breath hitched in her throat. Two grotesque figures were latched onto her legs, their decaying jaws tearing into her flesh.

“AHHHHH!” Azumi screamed, her voice breaking as sheer terror took hold. The zombies gnawed hungrily, their putrid hands gripping her legs with a strength that belied their decomposed state.

Blood poured from the jagged wounds they left behind, soaking into her tattered pants and pooling around her on the ground.

The pain was unbearable, radiating up her legs and into her entire body. Her hands clawed at the ground as if trying to anchor herself, but her palms only scraped against the jagged surface of the alley, tearing her skin.

Her head throbbed as realization dawned—she was in a darkened alley, alone. She must have collapsed while trying to escape, and now she was facing the consequence.

The buildings around her loomed like sinister shadows, and the only light came from a flickering streetlamp in the distance.

Her throat burned as she screamed again, but there was no one to hear her cries. The alley seemed to swallow her voice, muffling it in the oppressive silence of the night. She twisted her body, trying to break free, but the zombies' grip was relentless. Their teeth sank deeper into her flesh, and she could feel the wet, sickening pull as they tore chunks away.

The agony was blinding. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to kick them off, her uninjured leg striking one of the creatures in the chest. It staggered back, snarling, but quickly lunged forward again, its rotten hands clawing at her.

Azumi’s vision blurred, her strength fading as her body screamed for relief from the overwhelming pain. Her fingers grazed something sharp—a broken shard of glass. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed it, ignoring the way it cut into her hand, and slashed at the nearest zombie.

The jagged glass sliced into its face, splitting its already rotting cheek open. It let out a grotesque groan and recoiled, giving her a moment’s respite. But the other one tightened its grip on her ankle, dragging her back toward its gaping maw.

“No!” she cried, her voice raw and desperate. She thrashed wildly, using every ounce of strength she had left, but her body felt heavy, her movements sluggish.

Her breathing grew ragged, and her head swam from the loss of blood. The edges of her vision darkened, and the world seemed to tilt around her. The pain was all-encompassing, a relentless reminder of her helplessness.

As she lay there, pinned to the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley, Azumi's mind raced.

"Where the hell am I? What the fucking hell is happening?!" She thought.

Her body convulsed as another wave of pain wracked her, but somewhere deep inside, a flicker of defiance ignited. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet. Summoning what little strength she had left, Azumi gripped the shard of glass tighter and prepared for one final attempt to fight back.

Azumi gritted her teeth, the shard of glass shaking in her bloodied hand. Her vision blurred, and her arms trembled from the exertion, but she knew she couldn’t let this be the end.

The zombie clawing at her ankle lunged forward, its teeth snapping dangerously close. With a guttural cry, Azumi swung the glass down, plunging it into the side of the creature's head.

The sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed through the alley as the zombie twitched violently and then fell limp. Azumi kicked it off her, ignoring the searing pain in her leg, and scrambled to her knees.

The remaining zombie snarled, lunging at her again, but this time, Azumi was ready. She grabbed a loose pipe from the ground, swinging it with every ounce of strength she could muster.

The metal connected with the zombie's skull, sending it staggering back. Azumi didn’t stop. She swung again and again until the creature collapsed into a motionless heap on the ground. Her chest heaved, and her entire body shook, but she was alive.

Her legs throbbed, blood still dripping from the ragged wounds. She knew she couldn’t stay there. The noise she’d made would attract more of them. Forcing herself to her feet, she stumbled forward, each step a fresh wave of agony.

She scanned the alley desperately, her gaze landing on a small shop across the street. Its sign was faded, the windows cracked, but it looked intact.

With adrenaline as her only fuel, Azumi limped toward it. She reached the door, her bloody hands fumbling with the handle. Locked. Her heart sank, but she didn’t give up. She pressed her shoulder against the glass, scanning the area for any sign of movement. The distant groans of approaching zombies urged her on.

Her eyes landed on a loose brick near the foundation of the shop. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed it and, with a sharp exhale, smashed it against the glass.

The window cracked but didn’t shatter completely. She struck again, harder this time, until the glass gave way just enough for her to slip an arm in. Carefully reaching through the jagged opening, she unlocked the door from the inside.

Azumi pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest, and slipped inside. She immediately turned and locked the door, using a metal rod she found nearby to barricade it further. The shop was dark, but she didn’t care. She was safe—for now.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor, leaning against a shelf filled with dusty, forgotten goods. The pain was unbearable, her breaths shallow and uneven, but at least she wasn’t out in the open. She strained her ears, listening for any signs of movement, but the shop was eerily silent.

Dragging herself to her feet, she began to search the small space. She checked every corner, every crevice, ensuring there were no other entrances or broken windows where zombies could sneak in. Once she was certain the shop was secure, she collapsed onto the floor again, her back against the wall.

Her hands pressed against the wounds on her legs, trying to trying to st the bleeding. She tore pieces of her shirt to create a makeshift bandages, wincing as she tied them tightly around the gashes. The pain made her head spin, but she couldn't afford to lose consciousness.

"I-I have to sever it right away..." She panicked. "I can't b-be like them..."

Despite her desperate attempts to stay conscious, Azumi’s body betrayed her, and she collapsed onto the cold floor. For what felt like an eternity, she drifted in and out of the haze, her mind a fragmented mess of pain and fear.

A fleeting moment of clarity came when her eyes fluttered open, and she saw them—the same men. Their outlines were indistinct, their faces veiled in shadow, as though her memory refused to solidify their existence. They spoke in hushed tones, their voices echoing in her mind like a haunting melody she couldn’t escape.

The next thing Azumi knew, she was no longer on the ground but bound to a chair. Heavy metal cuffs encased her wrists and ankles, cold against her skin.

The room was stark and sterile, illuminated by the eerie glow of fluorescent lights above. Before her was a long, steel table cluttered with intimidating laboratory equipment.

She scanned the room with panicked eyes, noticing the peculiar devices scattered about. A centrifuge spun noiselessly in the corner, its purpose ominous.

Glass beakers and vials lined the shelves, some filled with an unsettling red liquid that resembled blood. A strange machine resembling a dialysis unit sat nearby, tubes and needles hanging from its sides like the tendrils of some mechanical monster. Beside it, a large extraction pump hummed softly, its transparent chambers designed to siphon fluids.

A monitor blinked to life on the far wall, displaying a series of complex graphs and heartbeat lines that she couldn’t decipher. Above her, a surgical lamp loomed like an interrogator’s spotlight, its intensity making her feel exposed.

Her chest tightened as she tugged against the restraints, the metal biting into her skin. "What is this?" she whispered hoarsely, her throat dry. Her voice barely carried over the mechanical hum of the room.

The men still stood nearby, their faces obscured by masks and shadows, their hands gloved as they gestured to a clipboard filled with notes. One pointed toward her as if she were an object rather than a person, and the other jotted something down with cold precision.

“Where am I?” she demanded, her voice louder now, trembling with fear and anger. “What do you want from me?”

But the men ignored her, their conversation continuing as though she were invisible. The sight of their indifference sent a chill down her spine, and a single thought burned in her mind: I have to get out of here.

Azumi gasped sharply, her chest heaving as her eyes snapped open. The cold, hard ground beneath her reminded her where she was, the eerie silence of the room broken only by her ragged breaths. She blinked a few times, struggling to focus her vision, and noticed daylight spilling in through the cracks of the boarded-up windows.

"I-It's morning already?" she muttered, her voice weak and hoarse. Her body felt heavy, but she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing as she did so.

Her eyes scanned the room, memories of the previous night flooding back—the zombies, the blood, the pain, and the overwhelming darkness. Her heart raced as she inspected her surroundings, half expecting the undead to come crashing through the door.

Then it hit her. She gasped, the realization striking her like a bolt of lightning. "My injuries!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

Her trembling hands reached for the bloodied bandages wrapped tightly around her legs. Despite everything, she couldn’t feel the stabbing pain that had consumed her the night before. Cautiously, she began unwrapping the fabric, layer by layer, her movements hesitant and slow.

When the final layer fell away, she froze. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared in disbelief. The wounds—deep gashes she was sure would have taken weeks to heal—were completely gone. Not a scar, not a trace of blood, nothing remained to suggest they had ever been there.

"W-What the hell!" she whispered, her voice trembling with shock. She ran her fingers over the smooth, unblemished skin where the injuries had been. Her mind raced, struggling to make sense of what she was seeing.

She flexed her legs cautiously, half expecting a jolt of pain, but there was none. It was as if the horrors of the previous night had been erased from her body, leaving her physically whole but mentally shattered.

Her gaze darted around the room, as if searching for an explanation. “How… how is this even possible?” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the memory of the faceless men flashed in her mind—the tubes, the machinery, the cold detachment in their voices. Was it just a dream? Or had something far more sinister happened to her?

"I-I should find Victor—" Azumi whispered, but the moment the name left her lips, she froze.

"Victor?" she repeated, her brows knitting in confusion. The name felt familiar, yet distant, like a word she wasn’t supposed to forget.

"Who is he?"