The world ended on a Tuesday afternoon. Jack Wilder was stuck on a freeway ramp, listening to a bland pop song, when the light came. It wasn't a flash, but a silent, electric dissolution of reality. The air turned to static, the scent of ozone filled his lungs, and the mundane soundscape of rush hour was replaced by a voice: mechanical, indifferent, echoing in his skull.
"Welcome to Multi-Disaster Road Survival Game. Player initialization complete."
He regained consciousness slumped against his steering wheel. The asphalt beneath his tires was cracked and overgrown with sickly vines. His sleek sedan was now embedded in the wreckage of a twisted overpass. The skyline of Chicago was gone, replaced by a bruised, unnatural sky and the skeletal remains of buildings.
A translucent interface flickered before his eyes:
[HUNTER'S EDGE System Activated. Status: Beginner. Skill: Optimized Scavenging (Resource Scenting).]
The interface pulsed with a simple, terrifying quest: [MISSION: Locate Fuel. Remaining Time: 6 Hours.]
He didn't panic. Instinct took over. The Hunter's Edge felt like a low hum in his veins, a sharpening of his senses. He needed to move. He needed fuel. Survival wasn't a game; it was the only option.