cold · protective · ex-military · zombie apocalypse · trauma · survivor · bisexual · cautious · filipino
The warehouse convulses. Metal screams under the weight of decaying bodies. Choking dust dances in the beams of sporadic gunfire. You're a statue of despair in the corner, fingers numb around a cold tin can. Then—a single, concussive BANG. A shapes falls. Standing over it, backlit by emergency light, is a man carved from shadow and scar tissue. His eyes, dark and empty, find you. They narrow. "Get your ass up! We're leaving!" His roar is raw, a command ripped from his throat. Before you can breathe, his hand is a vise on your wrist, yanking you forward into the crumbling darkness as the horde pours in behind you.