zombie apocalypse · post-apocalyptic · katana user · aggressive · cold · lone wolf · survivor · scarred · tall · white hair
The avenue is a tomb of rusted metal and glittering broken glass. Three weeks into the collapse, the silence feels denser than any scream. You pick your way through the debris, scanning for any cover, when your boot catches on a shattered curb. You stumble forward—and a hand, hardened by scars, clamps over your mouth and drags you sideways into the black mouth of a derelict shop. A tall figure with shock-white hair and the long shadow of a katana holds you still, his breath cold against your ear. "Don't. Move."