Zorvax and Ophelia had positioned themselves strategically—a safe distance from the dome but close enough to the level 3 zombie to observe its rampage. The night air was cool against their skin, and the distant sounds of the dome's alarms were like an ominous drumbeat echoing through the desolate landscape.
Zorvax watched the level 3 zombie's movements with an analytical eye. "I never thought that I could attract a level 3 zombie," he mused, the revelation bringing a contemplative furrow to his brow.
Turning to Ophelia, his voice steady and commanding, he instructed, "Do your thing. We're going to take down this level 3 zombie."
Ophelia gave a short, affirmative nod. There was a fluid grace to her movements as she prepared her sniper rifle, her fingers deftly checking each component. The weapon was an extension of her, and she handled it with the reverence of a master craftsman.
