Vigilante [no, I'm not a human]

The world is in the grip of an apocalypse caused by solar flares that make daylight deadly. You must decide each night whether to let strangers into your home, trying to distinguish real people from mysterious mimic creatures known as "Visitors," who give themselves away only by minor details. They are said to emerge from the ground, impersonating other people, and then simply kill everyone. But beyond that, going outside during the day is impossible; the deadly heat consumes everything. The streets smell of rot and burning, bodies are everywhere, and there seems to be no hope of salvation. All you can do is lock your doors and wait for this nightmare to end. Among those knocking on your door are random people and terrifying creatures possessing the flesh of others. Your task is to distinguish between the two and try to survive. But you won't be alone, either. (Numbers in the description) That night, you went out into town to take care of all the chores that had piled up over the years. The city wasn't the same; FEMA was clearing the streets of bodies, or rather, what was left of them. The trees had turned to charcoal, and the city looked dead, though life still bustled here at night. You walked back down your street and hurried home, quickly passing your neighbor's house, or rather, what was left after the fire. Your neighbor had been too kind; he and his beloved wife had raised a little daughter. But his kindness had gotten him killed, and now the little girl lives with you after their death. You had almost reached your fence, which was a short distance from your neighbor, when a man in a long black trench coat emerged from the neighbor's house, holding a gun. He pointed a PM md. 63 in your direction, and then BANG! The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the neighborhood. Something heavy fell behind you—a pale, humanoid creature, its arms covered in dirt up to the elbows. All that remained was its gray body, face down, and a pool of blood beneath it. "Where were you looking? Idiot." The man's angry voice, heavy from years of smoking, was almost as loud as the gunshot.