The sun was just beginning to rise as the team gathered in the large meeting room, the hum of murmurs filling the air. The high-ranking officers stood at the front, ready to brief everyone. Razor stood tall, arms crossed, with his team clustered nearby, awaiting orders. The room fell silent as the head officer addressed them.

  "Listen up," the officer began. "Your mission is two-fold. First, observe any new mutations you encounter. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Study them, but keep your distance. Second, we need survivors. Search for them, gather whatever supplies you can find, and if possible, take samples to study. Blood, fluids-anything that could help us understand the mutations."

  Razor nodded, his expression unwavering. He had no time for distractions. The world was falling apart, and his team needed to stay focused. The officer went on to outline a few more details, but Razor's mind was already on the mission. Once the briefing ended, the teams filtered out of the room and into the vehicles.

  As Razor and his team made their way out of the base, the air was thick with tension. The Humvee rolled through the wreckage of the city, the sounds of distant moans and scraping footsteps reminding them of the danger that lurked everywhere.

  "Alright," Razor said, his voice firm. "We stop the Humvee here. Quiet from now on."

  He knew the vehicle's engine was a beacon in this silence, a sound that could easily draw attention. They parked the Humvee just out of sight, and the team moved into the streets on foot, weapons ready and senses on high alert.

  The city was a ghost town, windows shattered, debris scattered across the road. The team moved like shadows, their footsteps muffled by the ruin that surrounded them.

  Suddenly, a scream echoed through the air-a woman's voice, full of panic. The team reacted instantly, moving toward the sound, their training kicking in. As they rounded a corner, they saw her: a woman in her thirties, sprinting away from a shambler. Its grotesque form stumbled after her, dragging its lifeless leg behind it.

  "Take it down!" Razor barked. The team moved into action, quickly positioning themselves and taking the shambler down with practiced precision. The creature hit the ground, lifeless, but the team didn't have time to celebrate. They turned their attention to the woman.

  She was covered in dirt, her clothes torn, blood smeared across her skin. As they approached, she staggered, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were wide with terror, but when she looked at them, there was an acceptance in her gaze.

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  "Save me, please..." she gasped, her voice hoarse.

  Razor stepped forward, his expression hard as stone. "Are there any others? Survivors? Where are they?"

  The woman's eyes filled with tears as she tried to speak, but her body began to tremble violently. "I... I was with a group... They-" She stopped mid-sentence, her words faltering as her body began to shake uncontrollably.

  Razor's face hardened as he watched the transformation begin. The infection was already taking hold. Before the woman could continue, her back arched in pain, her mouth gaping open as her body convulsed violently on the ground.

  "Shit," Maverick muttered, stepping forward, his weapon raised in response to the woman's suffering.

  Razor's jaw clenched. "Do it, Maverick," he said, his voice cold and decisive.

  Maverick hesitated, his face tight with emotion. "She was still herself... for a second," he muttered, but there was no choice.

  With a single shot, Maverick ended her suffering, the sound of the rifle echoing in the quiet street. The team stood in silence, the weight of what had just happened hanging heavily in the air. They had just killed someone who was once like them, a person who had been ripped apart by this nightmare.

  Razor took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the area. "Stay focused. We've got work to do."

  The team moved quickly, still reeling from what they'd just witnessed, but Razor wouldn't let them fall apart. There were no second chances in this world. They couldn't afford to hesitate, not when every second counted.

  They moved through the empty streets, searching for any sign of survivors or useful supplies. There was no time to linger, no time to mourn the loss of someone who had been lost to the infection. The mission came first.

  "Nothing," Shadow muttered after checking a nearby building. Frustration bubbled beneath his words. "We've been through this block twice now. There's nothing."

  Razor didn't reply immediately, his eyes scanning the area. "Keep looking," he said at last. "We don't leave until we've found something useful."

  They moved on, the weight of the loss still fresh in their minds, but Razor kept them moving. They couldn't stop. Not now.

  The streets were silent except for the occasional distant groan of infected. The city was a wasteland-broken windows, collapsed buildings, the remnants of a world that had once been full of life. Razor could feel the tension building in his team, the pressure of not finding anything beginning to take its toll.

  "Alright," Razor said finally, his voice firm. "We head back. Nothing here but echoes of what used to be."

  As they made their way back to the Humvee, Razor's thoughts lingered on the woman they had killed. It wasn't the first time they had made a hard decision like that, but each time felt like it cut a little deeper. They were at war with something they couldn't fully understand yet, and it was only getting worse. The mission had to come first. Always.

  But Razor knew one thing: they would have to keep moving forward, no matter how difficult it became.