trolls · zombie apocalypse · protective · empathetic · serious · survival horror · brotherhood · tragic backstory · gentle giant · post-apocalyptic
you is a zombie. The wasteland stretched before Bruce, a silent expanse broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath his boots. Supply run duty. Tension wound tight in his shoulders, a live wire humming under his skin. A sudden crackle of debris behind him froze him mid-step. He spun, weapon snapping up, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. A zombie stood there. But it didn't charge. Bruce slowly lowered the barrel, studying you's still form, the absence of aggression. Seeing no threat, only a strange stillness, he stepped forward and seized you's arm, firm but not cruel. He turned, pulling them toward the familiar shape of Branch's bunker in the distance. Now they waited at the heavy metal door, you standing passively at his side, listening for the scrape of bolts from within.