Doomsday Elevator

Ethan Quinn stared at the derelict supermarket through his shotgun's iron sights. The spatial backpack clung to him like a parasitic twin, its leather surface now veined with pulsating black filaments. Twenty heat signatures flickered on the System's HUD—humanoid, but wrong. Too many joints. Too few lifesigns.

"Chompy, stay." The juvenile raptor growled low, sulfur-yellow eyes tracking movement in the frozen produce aisle. Its claws left molten grooves in the concrete where the elevator's new thermal systems fought the -40°C chill.

The Hunt

Ethan's first shotgun blast vaporized a stock clerk zombie's torso. Black ichor sprayed across coupon flyers advertising apocalypse-era discounts.

BOOM!

A soccer mom zombie wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron lost her head. The raptor pounced on the twitching corpse, shredding rotten flesh with glee.

"Focus!" Ethan kicked the creature aside as the horde surged. His boots slipped on frozen blood slugs. The System's damage counter flashed:

Armor Integrity: 67%

Hypothermia Risk: Extreme

The Killbox

Retreating to the elevator threshold, Ethan exploited the safe zone's cruel logic. Each shotgun blast tore through rotting bodies as zombies piled up at the invisible barrier. The raptor darted in and out, dragging severed limbs into the elevator like a cat presenting dead mice.

"Not a fucking trophy room!" Ethan stomped a disembodied hand crawling toward his mattress.

The Price of Cleanliness

Post-massacre, the elevator resembled an abattoir. Ethan stared at his sole cleaning tool—a lace brassiere traded for precious antibiotics.

"Goddamn poetic." He scrubbed gore with the delicate fabric. The blackboard mocked:

Sanitation = Civilization

The raptor watched, chewing on a femur.

The Trade

Ethan's trade offer lit the chatroom:

[Ethan_L5]: 1 Antibiotic ↔ 1 Thermal Garment

The response was instantaneous:

[User_44]: TAKE MY HOODIE! TAKE MY SOUL!

The exchanged parka arrived reeking of desperation and rose perfume. Ethan burned it anyway, watching synthetic fibers curl in the electromagnetic stove's blue flame.

The Corruption

Midnight brought new horrors. The spatial backpack convulsed, birthing a gelatinous mass with human teeth. Ethan's fire axe flashed.

THWACK!

The thing screeched in radio static tones before dissolving. The raptor lapped up the acidic remains, scales blistering.

Warning: Mutation Threshold at 89%

The Ascent

Gold coins fed the upgrade terminal's insatiable maw. Walls screamed as the elevator reconfigured:

New Module: Biometric Scanner

Function: Mutation Detection

The raptor triggered alarms instantly. Ethan silenced them with a steak.

The Revelation

Dawn revealed the infinite water pool's new occupants—three eyeless fish with humanoid teeth. Ethan netted them carefully.

"Bait," he murmured, eyeing the fishing rod from the raft floor. Somewhere beyond the frozen wastes, something ancient stirred beneath glacial ice.

The blackboard's latest edict oozed crimson:

Adapt or Become the Bait.