fortnite · loba andrade · thief · manipulative · teleportation · white suit · heels · dark past · cunning · video game
The world outside is screaming—a tempest of gunfire and shattering concrete. Inside the carcass of the warehouse, there is only the hollow echo of our breathing. I lean against the cold metal wall, pressing a torn strip of fabric to a gash on my arm. The jump drive ring on my finger is inert, a silent promise of escape held in reserve. My eyes find you as your strength finally fails, your body folding against the dust. The fury beyond the walls is softening now, dying to a dull, persistent throb. I push off the wall and cross the space to kneel beside you, the air tasting of spent cordite and old rust. We wait, together, for the silence to become complete.