Medical tent interior. Dim overhead bulb casting harsh shadows. Zean sits on crate, left arm heavily bandaged with blood seeping through. Chloe stands before him holding a small vial — the only antidote. Team members form a semicircle behin

Close-up on Chloe's face. Tears welling in her eyes. The vial trembles in her grip. Behind her shoulder, Brandon peers through with a hidden smirk.

Chloe steps forward, extending the vial toward Brandon. Her face is pale, resolved. Brandon reaches for it with a theatrical wince.

Zean rises from crate, towering over everyone. His eyes burn with cold fury. The bloodied arm hangs at his side. His voice is low, dangerous.

Team members nervously defend Chloe's decision. One steps forward defensively, spreading arms.

Brandon pushes past Chloe, rolling up his sleeves to show unmarked arms. His grin is triumphant.

Zean's voice drops to a dangerous growl. The temperature in the room seems to drop. His eyes never leave Brandon.

The punch. Zean's fist connects with Brandon's face. Blood sprays. Brandon's body recoils backward.

Brandon crumples to the ground, clutching his shattered nose. Blood pours between his fingers. His eyes are wide with shock.

Zean's face — grim satisfaction mixed with cold fury. The veins on his neck pulse. His voice is steady, final.

Zean turns and walks toward the tent entrance. His silhouette against the dim light outside. He doesn't look back.

Chloe gasps, reaches toward the doorway. Her other hand clutches the empty antidote vial.

Wide shot of tent interior. Zean's silhouette has disappeared into the darkness outside. Team members exchange nervous glances. Chloe's arm slowly drops.

One team member nervously suggests going after Zean. Chloe cuts him off, admitting their mistake.

Chloe turns on Brandon furiously. Her voice rises with accusation and hatred. Brandon looks up from the floor, blood still flowing.

Brandon tries to defend himself, wiping blood from his chin. His smug act is cracking under pressure.

Brandon's face as reality sets in — no one to carry supplies, cook food, organize base. The realization of what they've lost dawns on him.

Zean walks through dark fog, alone. His silhouette moves steadily away from the base. The bloodied arm hangs at his side.

Cut back to base — group struggling to carry heavy supplies without Zean's strength. Exhausted faces.

Exterior shot of homebase — fortified walls, watchtowers, organized salvage yard visible in distance. Group approaches the main gate.

Children running out to greet the returning group. Their excitement turns to confusion when they don't see Zean among them.

One small child, maybe 7-8 years old, tugs on Chloe's sleeve. Innocent confused expression. Looking up at her expectantly.

Silence. Chloe can't answer. The group goes silent. Children exchange confused looks. One child begins to cry.

Commander Logan emerges from main building. Military bearing, captain's armband, calm authoritative presence. His eyes immediately narrow.

Logan steps closer to the group. His gaze moves from face to face, landing on Brandon's guilty expression. Suspicion builds.

Logan's voice is calm but firm. The question hangs in the air. Chloe trembles, unable to meet his eyes.

Zean's eyes snap open. Strange light beneath his skin. His expression shifts from calm to confusion, then determination.

Zean struggles to stand. His body is changing. His expression is one of grim determination — whatever is happening, he refuses to die here. Not like this.