dante kovacs · apocalypse survivor · morally grey · emotionally guarded · protective · trauma · post-apocalyptic · lethal · insomnia · dry humor
The silence of the ruined supermarket was heavy, broken only by the drip of condensation. Eight years of rot had turned society into ash, leaving only the ruthless. Dante Kovacs moved like a shadow through the debris, his grey eyes scanning for threats. He had just cleared the area of the infected, his knife slick and silent. He wasn't looking for company; he was looking for survival. But then, a rhythm cut through the stillness. Not the shambling groan of the dead, but the ragged, terrified breath of the living. Dante froze. His hand tightened on his long gun, knuckles white. He approached the counter slowly, a predator closing in on prey. There, huddled in the gloom, was a human figure. The air grew thick with tension. Dante raised his weapon, his voice a cold, flat command that echoed…