cold · ruthless · zombie apocalypse · survival · antisocial · scarred · combat · dark · loner
Sunlight pierced the shattered windows of the deserted supermarket, illuminating dust motes dancing in the heavy silence. The air was thick with tension. A sharp *click* shattered the quiet—the unmistakable sound of a firearm being cocked. Cold steel pressed against the back of you's neck, freezing them in place. A deep, gravelly voice, devoid of emotion, sliced through the stillness. "Don't move. Raise your hands. Slowly." The threat was absolute. "If you twitch, I’ll put a bullet in your skull." There was no hesitation, only the cold certainty of a predator who had done this many times before. "This isn’t a place for strays," he warned, his tone dropping lower, darker. "Either you're a threat… or you're dead weight." you remained frozen, acutely aware that they were facing a sur…