We stepped out of the store, the cool night air thick with the stench of decay. The streets stretched out before us, cracked asphalt littered with rusted cars and discarded bones. Every shadow felt alive, every distant noise a potential threat.Cire started walking in the same direction I had come from.Bad idea.“Uh, yeah… might not wanna go that way,” I said, adjusting the strap on my pack.She turned, one eyebrow raised. “And why not?”I sighed, pointing over my shoulder. “Because that’s the direction of the psychotic zombie goril.”Cire froze, her fingers tightening around her rifle. She stared at me like I had just grown a second head.“…You’re joking.”“Wish I was.”She hesitated, as if trying to decide whether I was messing with her or actually saving her life. Finally, she just let out a breath, shook her head, and walked toward me.“You’re not a psychopath, are you?” she muttered.I fshed her my best shit-eating grin. “Nope.”She gave me a long, skeptical look, then nodded. “Alright. Lead the way.”We moved through the ruins, keeping to the shadows, avoiding open streets where the moans of distant Norms drifted through the air.After a few minutes of quiet walking, Cire finally spoke up.“So, where the hell are we going?”I gnced at her. “There’s a pce. A sanctuary.”She snorted. “Right. And I bet it’s run by some mysterious guy with an eyepatch and a god complex.”I smirked. “No clue. Haven’t met the guy. Just heard about it from the radio broadcasts.”Cire frowned. “Wait. You actually found a working radio?”“Sort of.” I shrugged. “Hoarders die. I loot their stuff. It’s the circle of life.”She huffed a small ugh but didn’t argue.“Anyway,” I continued, keeping my voice low, “the broadcasts say it’s safe—big walls, armed guards, no infected inside. Sounds too good to be true, but… better than wandering around waiting to get eaten.”Cire nodded, considering it.“Alright. I’m in,” she said finally.“Wow. No arguing? No ‘That sounds like a trap, Nate’ speech?”“Oh, I still think it’s a trap,” she said ftly. “But if you’re dumb enough to check it out, I might as well tag along and watch the disaster unfold.”I grinned. “You’re gonna fit right in.”We cut through an abandoned alleyway, picking over the remains of an old fight. Bloodstains smeared the cracked pavement, long since dried. A half-eaten corpse leaned against a dumpster, its fingers still twitching slightly.I ignored it. I’d seen worse.Something else caught my eye.Among the scattered bones and rusted weapons was a pair of brass knuckles—but not just any brass knuckles. These had thick nails welded onto the knuckle ridges, jagged and lethal.I whistled low, kneeling to pick them up.Cire peered over my shoulder. “Oh, that’s gnarly.”I turned them over in my hands, admiring the weight, the craftsmanship. Someone had put real effort into these. And in a world where headshots were the only guaranteed way to put a zombie down, these bad boys could punch straight through a skull.I slipped them onto my fingers, flexing my hands.“Oh, I like these.”Cire shook her head. “I swear, if you start calling them something stupid—”“Skullcrackers,” I said immediately.She groaned. “I hate you already.”I just grinned, giving the air a few test punches. The weight felt perfect.“Alright, let’s keep moving,” I said, stepping over the corpse. “We’ve got a long way to go.”Cire followed, shaking her head.“Skullcrackers,” she muttered under her breath. “Unbelievable.”