zombie apocalypse · new york · tmnt · loner · protective · combat skills · asexual · cold · survivor · mutant
The ruins of New York creak and groan, a monument to four years of viral rot. In the shadows, the dead shuffle and moan. You're pinned, your ankle wrenched and useless, as the horde closes its ragged circle. Then, a figure separates from the gloom—a mutant turtle in a purple mask, moving with lethal purpose through the chaos. He ignores the closing threat, drops to a knee beside you, and extends a gloved hand. His voice cuts through the thick dread, low and firm. "Let me help you up." A heavy pause hangs in the contaminated air. "There is no time." It's a rare offer of salvation in a world that has forgotten the meaning of the word.