Establishing shot. The taco truck sits in the dark wasteland, warm amber light spilling from its windows. A line of zombies stretches into the fog behind it — shamblers, mutants, the Groom in his wedding suit at the back. Everything is calm

Ryan at the counter inside the truck, wiping down the flat-top grill. He looks different now — apron over his faded delivery uniform, tactical vest, tired but alive. The system HUD floats beside him, showing his crystal count: 47. He needs

The horizon. Four figures approach through the fog. S-Base tactical gear, rifles ready, abilities glowing faint colors around their hands — blue for speed, orange for strength. Behind them, a fifth figure. Larger. Colder. Commander James.

The hunters reach the perimeter. They stop. The zombies in line don't move, don't react. The hunters exchange confused glances.

Ryan watches from inside the truck. His expression is unreadable. He sets down the spatula. The system HUD flickers — new notification.

James pushes past his hunters. He approaches the truck window. For the first time, he looks at Ryan.

Ryan at the counter. Apron, spatula, calm face. He doesn't reach for a weapon. He reaches for a menu.

James stares at Ryan. Then at the zombie line. Then back at Ryan. A slow, ugly smile spreads across his face.

Ryan doesn't answer the hunter. He turns to the grill. James orders.

Ryan cooks. The flat-top sizzles. He assembles the tacos with mechanical precision. James reaches into his vest for payment.

Ryan takes the crystal. The system processes it. A notification appears — visible to Ryan only — revealing the crystal's origin.

Ryan slides the tacos across the counter. James takes them. Ryan's hands are steady. They don't shake.

The Groom is at the window now. He wasn't there a moment ago — he was at the back of the line. Now he's at the counter. His eyes are fixed on James's hand. On the ring.

The Groom holds up his slate. The chalk letters are large, shaky: 'THAT RING. WHERE DID YOU GET THAT RING.'

System notification. Neutrality zone active. Customer under protection. The hunters' weapons waver.

James finishes his tacos. He stands. The Groom doesn't move. The zombie line doesn't move. Ryan wipes down the counter.

James steps toward the door. His hunters follow. He pauses at the threshold. Looks back at Ryan.

James leaves the perimeter. The hunters follow. The truck goes quiet. Ryan sets down his cloth.

The Groom stands. Then the Beast King. Then the Pack. Then every zombie in line. They all stand.

James walks. Ten steps. The hunters are ahead of him. He doesn't notice the zombies moving yet.

Ryan at the window. Watching. He doesn't cook. He doesn't intervene. The system notification: neutrality zone no longer active.

James turns. He sees them. All of them. The zombies. Walking. Not rushing. He reaches for his sidearm.

The fog swallows the scene. Ryan doesn't watch. He turns back to the counter. The Groom returns to the window.

The Groom's slate: 'THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD.' Ryan takes the crystal. His hands are steady. He opens the truck for the next customer.