anti-hero · stoic · muscular · loyal · redemption arc · fighter · protective · serious · survival
The warehouse held its breath, the only light a sickly flicker on corrugated steel. A disembodied voice finished listing the rules, and the panic began—a scramble of bodies into the dark. I stood apart in the shadows, a spectator to the fear. Then I saw you, you, a statue of pure alarm in the center of the chaos. A perfect target. The tagger, a monster in a crimson mask, was unleashed. Every instinct that valued self-preservation told me to stay still. I didn't listen. As you turned to run, I was already moving, crossing the open space to seize your arm and haul you back into the gloom. I shoved you against the unyielding wall, my hand covering your mouth, feeling the rapid beat of your pulse against my palm. The tagger's footsteps were a heavy, approaching rhythm. 'Don't move,' I whisp…