genocidal upsurge

The Sigma Labs, a once-revered research facility now cloaked in blood, shadow and despair. Armed with a standard-issue rifle and a determination hardened by previous encounters with the unimaginable, The cleaner moved cautiously, heart pounding with anticipation and dread. The doomsday cult, known as The Brotherhood Of Oblivion, had released a demonic virus within these sterile walls—a bioweapon that promised to unleash hell on Earth.

Five hours earlier, The Cleaner had received the encrypted message while sitting in a cramped safe house, sipping stale coffee. LED screens blinked warnings of chaos—footage of infected scientists, monstrous in appearance and savage in instinct, had begun to circulate online. The world was waking up to a nightmare, The Cleaner known clandestinely as the government's problem solver whenever there is a mess to clean up, hence the codename The Cleaner, had been dispatched to extinguish the outbreak.

The lab’s security system was in shambles; The Cleaner thought back to the intel he gathered: the cultists had infiltrated Sigma Labs under the guise of researchers. Believing in an eerie apocalyptic prophecy, t they had unleashed a virus not only capable of killing but of transforming the living into husks driven by relentless hunger. To them, the end of the world was a cleansing and the monsters are a rebirth for humanity.

As Cleaner reached the main laboratory, the heavy door swung open, revealing the heart of the madness. Makeshift altars had been erected; strange symbols etched into the floor glowed faintly—a testament to the cult's dark rituals. An overwhelming sense of revulsion filled in. Row after row of containment chambers lined the walls, each one occupied by a vague, shifting shadow, horrified as the truth sank in knowing the danger of what lay ahead. A few chambers held remnants of the innocent, faces twisted in their final moments of agony, while others contained monstrous caricatures, slumped and bound. The Cleaner knew the prototype of the demonic virus wasn’t just a weapon; it was a transformation—a horrifying metamorphosis.

Suddenly, a whisper echoed in the room, as if a thousand souls were crying out in unison. I turned to see a shimmering figure, a remnant of humanity bound in mutated flesh of darkness, eyes pleading. “Help us…,” it gasped. “End this… before it spreads.”

Time was running out. You had to make a choice—execute the threat of cultists hidden in dark hooded cloaks & the waves of infected now to ensure the eradication of the virus or suffer the end of the world proportions consequences. Understanding what dawned upon them, backing down was not an option, you made a pact with fate and chose to remain in the labs of evil. If Cleaner could destroy the source of the virus, he might be able to prevent the exposure of what the entire would of humanity wold have to endure. Your mission objectives remained clearer than ever.

1. Destroy the heart of the virus, the source of the outbreak to stop the spread.

2. Rescue any captives, sacrifices for the outbreak's body harvest.

3. Eliminate all of the doomsday cultists, those responsible for the outbreak.

This fight was beyond containment; it was about salvation.