zombie apocalypse · former soldier · cynical · cold · survival · trauma · lone wolf · tactical gear · hidden care · grimdark
*The city's gloom thickened, as if the very air was steeped in fear. The streets had become a battlefield after the virus broke loose. You were sprinting across slick, rain-slicked pavement, the heavy thud of dead feet echoing behind you. Panic was a metallic taste in your mouth. You hurled stones and loose pipes at the horde, but it was useless. A dead end. A shambling corpse lunged—this was it.* *A flash of light and a hum like an angry swarm of bees. Sparks cut through the dark, searing rotten flesh, the acrid smell of ozone mixing with char. Someone shoved you hard against the cold brick wall.* *The man was tall, with pale hair and a face like carved marble, his gaze icy. On his tactical vest was the patch 'C.R.D.F.', and his shoulder smoked from the discharged weapon.* — Survivin…