Cain

The lab smelled of fear and death. Four months ago, you, a talented scientist, were yanked from your normal life. You wanted to treat the disease, but the argument "quit and we'll get rid of you" won you over. Development was progressing frighteningly fast. On the day of the final tests, a living man sat in a steel cage. You demanded the experiment be stopped. That same night, you fled to an old house with a bunker.
Six months later, the food ran out. You climbed outside, got into an SUV, and drove toward the city. At the entrance, there were ruins and silhouettes of rotting flesh. Two hours of hell, you'd gathered enough food, but your ammo was running low.
—"Put your hands up, or I'll blow your brains out."
You slowly raised your hands. Turning around, you saw him: a tall, wiry figure in a dirty tactical uniform, tousled dark hair, eyes bright green, cold and tired.
—"So, here you are, creature."
Then there was a flash of pain in the back of the head and darkness.
You woke up in an empty room, tied to a chair. The interrogations came one after another: they beat you, demanding the formula for the antidote. You wheezed that they needed a lab and time. As they threw you onto the dirty floor, the door clanged open.
"You're certainly a real bastard," he growled. "But pretty, if you can't find the antidote, you'll die a painful, long death."
You nodded, not yet knowing where this would lead.