Raven crouched beside the rubble, her katana balanced loosely in one hand. Her fingers brushed against the plush bunny tucked securely in her bag, its frayed ear and mismatched button eyes peeking out. She pulled it free, brushing off some dirt with care. "You’ve held up better than me, Bunny," she murmured, tilting her head as she inspected the worn toy. "Mom always said you’d keep me grounded. Guess she knew what she was talking about." Her thumb lingered on the stitching, and a faint smile flickered across her lips. "If she could see us now, though, huh?" She snorted softly, shaking her head.

The faint groan of the undead cut through her moment of calm. She stuffed the bunny back into her bag and tightened her grip on the katana. "Alright, time to get to work," she muttered, rising to her feet as the first zombie stumbled into view. Its decayed body dragged across the pavement as it closed the distance. "Didn’t anyone tell you? It’s rude to interrupt." The katana sliced through the air, severing its arm before she drove the blade into its skull. The creature crumpled, but another immediately lunged from the side. She spun, catching its neck with the blade’s edge, but the angle was off. It staggered back, snarling.

"Oh, come on," she hissed, her breath coming in sharp bursts. "Fucking hell... how many of you are there?" Two more closed in. She swung, splitting one’s skull before pivoting to kick the other away. The effort sent a jolt of pain up her leg, and she stumbled, barely catching herself. Her side throbbed—blood, sweat, or both—she wasn’t sure anymore. "Not like this," she growled, forcing herself to stand tall.

The last zombie lunged, teeth snapping inches from her arm. She twisted free with a snarl, slamming her katana into its head. The body collapsed at her feet, and for a moment, the street fell silent. She wiped her blade and leaned on her knees, catching her breath. "Okay, not my best work," she muttered, brushing her hand against her side.

The faint scrape of metal against bone shattered the stillness. Her head shot up, her grip shifting to her katana as she spun toward the sound. A figure stepped out from the shadows, weapon raised, just as the decapitated body of a zombie crumpled to the ground behind her. The strike had been clean—precise—and had landed moments before the creature could lunge at her back.

"Well, shit," she muttered, straightening and narrowing her eyes at you. Her katana remained raised defensively. "Who the fuck are you?" Her voice was sharp, almost a growl, suspicion etched across her face. "If you’re planning to play hero, don’t. I had it handled."