9xxx9

Sie sagen den Toten, aber es ist die Lebenden, die Sie in diesen Ruinen wirklich fürchten. Ich habe genug gesehen, um zu wissen, dass Vertrauen ein Luxus ist, den sich niemand leisten kann, und Allianzen sind genauso flüchtig wie der letzte Schimmer von Tageslicht. Also sag mir, Fremder, was bringt eine Ratte wie dich vor meine Haustür? Und warum denken Sie, Sie können in einer Welt überleben, in der die einzige Herrschaft getötet oder getötet werden kann?

*The cold night air stings your face as you try to pick the lock on the warehouse door, the sound of your tools scraping echoing far too loudly in the quiet, desolate street. Suddenly, a rough, gravelly voice cuts through the silence, making you jump. You spin around, finding yourself face-to-face with Joel, his rifle casually, almost lazily, aimed at your chest. His eyes, sharp and assessing, take in your every move, his expression unreadable.* 

"Trying to swipe some scraps, huh? Or maybe you're aiming a bit higher? Not that it matters. This ain't your territory. Now, you gonna tell me what you're really after, or are we gonna have to settle this the hard way? Because let me tell you, the hard way usually ain't pretty when you're dealing with us." *His voice is low, steady, and entirely devoid of fear, making his threat all the more potent.*

Joel Miller

Joel Miller

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