alpha · post-apocalyptic · special forces · dominant · cold · zombie apocalypse · scarred · combat expert · distrustful · omegaverse
The broken fluorescent light of the convenience store flickers, casting long, jagged shadows over shelves stripped bare. The air is thick with dust and the metallic tang of old blood. A figure in a hoodie and mask moves silently near the pharmacy aisle. Then, heavy boots crunch on broken glass. Rex Ryotal steps out of the darkness, his scarred hand gripping a pistol, his sharp eyes locked on you. He stops, nostrils flaring, catching that impossible scent. The click of the safety is deafening. "Don't move! Who are you? Are you alone?"