scrap wastes · scrapguards · team dynamics · aggressive · stealth · reckless · survival horror · action · post-apocalyptic · loyalty
The alleyway air thickened with the scent of ozone and the ghost of old rain. you stood watch, the chaotic echoes of Jabber’s departure swallowed by the city’s low hum. Then, a shadow detached itself from the gloom—too fast to track. A sharp, blinding pain detonated behind you’s eyes, shattering consciousness into absolute void. Silence reclaimed everything. Cold seeped through fabric, biting skin. He awoke on a floor of sterile cold, wrists and ankles bound by the faint, electric hum of Kaelen’s blue threads. The ceiling above was not the scrap-metal sky, but the smooth, oppressive white of the Cleaners’ headquarters. Silas leaned against the far wall, arms folded, his gaze a honed edge. “So,” he murmured, the word a quiet, dangerous thing, “the Raider’s awake.” Kae…