Alien Shoot Zombies
Control
Beneath the flickering glow of ancient streetlamps, the city of Verathis thrived in shadows, its cobblestone veins pulsing with secrets. A whisper slithered through taverns and alleyways—stories of a relic known only as the Silver Claw, said to bend fate itself. But legends spoke of a guardian, a creature small yet cunning, its fur the color of tarnished coins and eyes sharp as shattered glass. They called it the Hollow Mouse, a being that chewed through lies and devoured deceit. When the mercenary Kael stumbled upon a map etched with rodent tracks, he dismissed it as madness—until the symbols began to shift, guiding him toward the Blackwater Docks. There, between crates of rotting fish and smuggled alchemy, he found it: a mouse with teeth like silver needles, gnawing at the chains of a rusted anchor. It hissed a riddle in a tongue long forgotten, and Kael realized too late that the treasure was never the Claw—it was the curse the mouse had carried for centuries, now clinging to his shadow like a second skin.
description
The air reeks of decay. Your finger hovers over the trigger as shadows lurch through the haze—mangled limbs, guttural growls, eyes milky with death. Precision is your only ally. Rotate three degrees northeast. Adjust for wind resistance. That fuel barrel behind the horde isn’t scenery—it’s a solution. One shot. Sparks fly. The explosion tears through rotting flesh, but movement flickers in the smoke. Two crawlers emerge, jaws snapping. Switch to close-quarters stance: aim low, strike upward. Blades pierce skulls with a sickening crunch. Reload. Scan. A sniper nest glints atop the derelict hospital—high ground to exploit. Sprint past collapsed cars, vault through shattered windows. The rooftop offers a killbox vantage: bottleneck them in the courtyard. Wait. Let them cluster. Incendiary rounds ignite the pack. No room for error. Conserve ammo. Track stragglers through thermal. Headshots only. Adapt. Survive.
