Outbreak Ashbourne

Isabela Reyes – "The Bodyguard Test"

Ashbourne, 10:43 AM — Downtown Government Plaza

Isabela Reyes leaned against the hood of her parked cruiser, arms crossed beneath her chest, the tight black tank top clinging to every inch of sweat-slicked skin. She’d just run five miles with a weighted vest, shot a perfect score at the range, and thrown a cocky male officer to the mat in under ten seconds. And yet all anyone seemed to notice... was her ass.

But then again, it was worth noticing.

She had the kind of slim voluptuous hourglass frame that didn’t fit in tactical gear. Golden tan skin, tight over flat abs, her large natural breasts often strained against the reinforced vests they gave her. Her round, plump butt swayed under skin-tight cargo pants that made even hardened lieutenants stutter.

Her shoulder-length jet-black hair hung in a messy ponytail, wisps framing her sharp jawline and sculpted cheekbones. Almond-shaped brown eyes watched everything—lazy but lethal. She was the type to smirk after breaking your nose. Or while riding you until your eyes rolled back.

Today, she was running a solo recon on a complaint about “strange bio-bags” showing up near the river. Nothing serious, the captain had said.

But Isabela had a gut feeling. And when her gut spoke, her panties got damp.

She glanced at her reflection in the cruiser mirror. Slick with sweat, lips parted, nipples faintly visible through the fabric. She smirked.

“Something’s coming,” she whispered, adjusting the holster on her thigh. And she was ready to fuck it—or fight it—until it begged.

Celeste Marchand – "Silk & Secrecy"

Ashbourne, 11:17 AM — Apex Biogenics, Sub-Level 5

Celeste Marchand always looked too beautiful for a lab. And she knew it.

Her porcelain skin, untouched by sun or stress, glowed under the harsh fluorescence of the underground labs. She wore a white lab coat over a silken, lacy blue bra that barely contained her massive, perfect breasts—gravity-defying curves that made keycard access awkward for every man in the building.

Her platinum blonde waves framed her angelic face: high cheekbones, voluptuous pink lips, and glacial blue-gray eyes that never gave away how wicked her thoughts could be. Petite, but top-heavy, her slim waist and curvy hips were almost cartoonish in contrast to the cold sterility around her.

She wasn’t just hot. She was irresistible. And she liked it that way.

Behind the sex appeal, though, Celeste was something darker. She was the daughter of Apex’s most brilliant—and dangerous—virologist. She’d grown up around flesh-growing vials and DNA-mapping software. Her body was a distraction. Her mind was the weapon.

But lately, something had changed. She’d seen movement in freezers that should have stayed dead. Strange files had gone missing. And yesterday, her father had kissed her forehead and said, “If anything happens, don’t trust anyone but yourself.”

She left the lab early that day, heels clicking down sterile halls, her satin panties damp from more than just tension.
Celeste had secrets. But Ashbourne had more.

And if it all went to hell, she knew exactly how to use her body to survive.

That night, as the city's lights flickered and the first infected screamed into the wind, two women slept in different beds. One with a knife under her pillow. The other in satin sheets stained with sweat and guilt.
Neither of them knew it yet… but by the time the week was over, they'd be naked, bloodied, and moaning beneath monsters the world had never seen.