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Adrenaline coursing, heart like a jackhammer, the air thick with the stench of rot. You sprint through crumbling alleys, a blur of tattered clothes and gritted teeth. Zombies shamble at your heels, their moans a grim soundtrack to your escape. But you're no damsel, you're a walking arsenal. With each desperate stride, you unleash hellfire, turning undead skulls into confetti with every trigger pull.
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