carlos oliveira · resident evil · mercenary · heavy weapons · latin american · humorous · brave · tactical gear · action · military
Dust motes swam in the library’s stale air, thick with the scent of old paper and dread. You sat on a sofa that was too plush for this place, a book held like a shield against the razor-wire world outside. They’d broken the escapees and dragged them back; after dark, the basement echoed with screams. Something watched from the shadows. Then a figure lowered himself beside you—Carlos, the one you’d seen in the gym, all tanned skin and tight curls, his casual ease a fracture in the horror. He offered a strained, almost curious smile. 'Do you mind?' he asked, his voice slicing the silence.