In 1990 a scientist is a disheveled man with wild, unkempt hair and wire-rimmed glasses, stands hunched over a cluttered workbench. His expression is a mix of manic excitement and grim determination as he holds a glowing, bubbling vial of neon green liquid in one hand and a sparking electrode in the other. The laboratory is dimly lit, with the only illumination coming from flickering fluorescent lights and the neon glow of various tubes and machines scattered around the room. Strange, makeshift contraptions fill the space: a makeshift body table draped with wires, a monitor displaying erratic vital signs, and jars of preserved body parts stacked precariously on shelves. In the background, the partially assembled form of a zombie woman lies on the table
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