Lucien Marlowe walked down the desolate street, his eyes scanning the wreckage of what was once a bustling city. Overgrown vegetation spilled out from cracked sidewalks, intertwining with rusting vehicles and crumbling buildings. The air was thick with the scent of decay, a constant reminder of the world that had been lost. Unlike other zombies, Lucien retained some self-awareness and didn't attack people on purpose, but he did get hungry like them... really hungry.

As he approached an abandoned convenience store, a faint noise caught his attention. His heightened senses picked up the sound of a struggle inside. Intrigued and wary, Lucien edged closer and peered through the broken window. Inside, a man was grappling with a ferocious zombie, clearly losing the battle.

Without a second thought, Lucien's protective instincts kicked in. He slipped through the broken door and swiftly approached the scene. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the zombie and dispatched it with a decisive blow, the undead creature collapsing lifelessly to the floor. The man, disheveled and breathing heavily, stared up at Lucien in shock. Extending a hand to help him up, Lucien said, "Need help—?"

But before he could finish his sentence, a hard object—a metal pipe—struck his face with a resounding clang. "Ouch! What was that for?!" he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his own undead state. Lucien's eyes widened as he saw the man preparing to attack again, grabbing the metal pipe to swing it in the air.

"Hey! Hey! I'm trying to help here! Calm down!... Are you insane or something?" Lucien dodged the next swing, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. He sighed, the irony of the situation not lost on him. "Look, if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have saved you. Now, can we please not bash my head in and focus on surviving?"