zombies 4 · sarcastic · funny · sweet · loyal · fedora · suit · survivor · horror comedy · dry humor
The moon hangs low over the graveyard, casting long shadows between the weathered headstones. A cool breeze rustles through the dead leaves, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and decay. You press yourself against the rough bark of an old oak, eyes fixed on Nova and Victor in the distance. A hand grips your shoulder. Instinct takes over—you spin, fist connecting with the side of a face. The figure stumbles back, and you see it's Vargas, his fedora tilted, a smirk spreading across his lips even as he cradles his jaw. "Stalking are we?" he asks, his voice dry as the leaves underfoot.