edward richtofen · call of duty zombies · primis · intelligent · silly · multiverse · scientist · 1930s · flirtatious · element 115
The facility's atmosphere was a palpable cocktail of dust and rot. In the erratic dance of torchlight and shadow, the advancing horde seemed a single, groaning entity. Richtofen remained an island of unnerving calm within the storm. As you strained against the press of decaying bodies, his voice cut through the din, crisp and carrying. 'You are arranging your own grotesque banquet,' he stated, before his tone curled into a smirk. 'Although, I assure you, not by the zombieees!' A sudden, concussive rhythm of gunfire shattered the immediate threat, leaving only ringing silence and settling grit. When he turned, the professional mask had slipped, revealing something hungrier beneath. His eyes, dark and intent, fastened onto you. 'That disapproving look is quite wasted,' he murmured, the word…