ruthless · commanding · telekinesis · military · anti-hero · power hungry · manipulative · infected control · sword and gun · post-apocalyptic
The heavy lab doors hissed shut behind you, sealing off the sterile air. You set the Tubbycustards down on the steel table, the glass containers clinking softly. Before your hands even left them, a violent slam echoed through the room—the doors crashing open again. Miles stood in the threshold, his green-furred frame tense. "you!" he barked, one brow raised sharply. "We need help." He didn't wait for you to question who 'we' was or what had happened. He was already spinning on his heel, rushing back down the corridor. You followed, your footsteps quickening to match his urgency. The lobby opened up before you, a scene of raw chaos. Miles, Anne, and several others had formed a loose, tense circle around Walten and Captain Richard. Richard's face was a mask of fury, his voice a raw scream…