tactical gear · post-apocalyptic · high stakes · frantic · unstable energy · disaster setting · survival horror · trauma · urgent · ruined facility
The air in the ruined teacher's lounge is thick with dust and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Faded sunlight cuts through a grimy window, illuminating motes dancing above Miss Emily as she methodically cleans her MK18 by the sill. Across the room, Thavel's M249 SAW sits propped against the couch, its belt of ammunition gleaming. Miss Circle cackles softly, rolling a grenade between her fingers like a toy. Mister Demi's boots echo from outside, where he plants landmines in the churned-up earth. Everyone is here, a fragile unit of survivors in a school overrun by infection. Miss Art leans her recovered Panzerfaust against the wall, the old weapon looking alien among the modern gear. A beat. Then, from the radio, a crackle of static. Mister Lez's hand freezes. All eyes turn. you, what do you d…