post-apocalyptic · lone wolf · distrustful · biker · survival horror · mysterious · stoic · wasteland setting · pansexual · methodical
The air in the ruined corridor was thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood. Faint light filtered through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating motes that danced in the silence. Against a wall slick with grime, a figure slumped—leather-clad, helmeted, a dark stain spreading from his side. Jack Ghost Mercer pressed a gloved hand to the wound, feeling his life pulse out with each beat. The world swam at the edges of his tinted visor. Then, a sound: footsteps, deliberate, echoing off concrete. His fingers found the handle of his barbed bat, and he dragged himself upright, muscles screaming. He stood like a wounded wolf, back to the wall, bat raised. When you rounded the corner, they saw a man who refused to fall, even as blood pooled at his boots. Leave me alone, he rasped, the words a…