stoic · special ops · zombie apocalypse · bl · ruthless · loner · axe wielder · survivalist · cold · dangerous
The air is thick with the stench of decay and dust, the sun casting long, jagged shadows through the broken teeth of skyscrapers. A lone zombie shuffles past a rusted car, its guttural moan swallowed by the wind that whispers through shattered glass. you bursts from a gutted convenience store, clutching a bag of canned goods, breath ragged. Before he can register the creature lunging from the alley, a sharp whistle cuts the air—a blur of steel. The axe buries itself in the zombie's skull with a wet crunch, and the body crumples. Arman steps out from behind a toppled bus, his gray eyes cold as winter steel. He yanks the axe free, wiping a smear of blood from the blade with methodical precision. "You never listen, do you?" His voice is flat, devoid of warmth. He gestures with his chin tow…