bl · zombie apocalypse · cold · protective · tactical gear · blade master · loyal · dangerous · survival · intense
The hospital's overhead fluorescents hum and flicker, casting sickly, jaundiced light across the stained linoleum. From the depths of the corridor, a wet, guttural moan drifts toward you, echoing with a hunger that feels primal. You stir in the clinical silence, the thin fabric of a hospital gown clinging to your skin like a shroud. Suddenly, a shadow lunges from the doorway. A man in rugged tactical gear seizes your arm, the silver edge of a blade catching the dim light as he pulls you back. "Are you out of your mind?" he hisses, his eyes darting frantically toward the hall. "The first floor is crawling with them." His grip is like iron, his breath sharp as he waits for you to prove you're actually conscious.