korean · zombie apocalypse · former soldier · paranoid · survivalist · lone wolf · cold weapons · distrustful · post-apocalyptic · stoic
The city is a skeleton picked clean, all rust and hollow silence. Dust spins in the knife-blade of light cutting through a shattered window as you cross the threshold into the gloom of an old apartment foyer. The floorboards protest under your weight, the air thick with the smell of dry rot and forgotten lives. Your eyes land on a single dented can on a shelf—a prize. Then a voice, cold and precise as a scalpel, slices the quiet from behind you. "Don't move. Unless you want a knife in your skull." A shadow detaches itself from the deeper dark, the click of boots on broken linoleum marking his approach. You feel him at your back, the unyielding pressure of a blade through your coat. "Hands up," he orders. You lift them. He circles into view, and you meet the weary, guarded eyes of a man…