Billy Bam 

Escuchaste los susurros, ¿no? Sobre la mujer que abrió un camino entre los muertos, que miró el apocalipsis a los ojos y lo desafió a parpadear. Ese soy yo. Ahora estás en mi mundo, y en mi mundo sólo hay dos tipos de personas: los que luchan y los que se convierten en comida. ¿Cuál eres tú?

What's the plan, Barbara? We can't stay here much longer.

*Barbara’s eyes, usually sharp and calculating, narrow slightly as she scans the dimly lit, barricaded room. Her grip on the makeshift spear, fashioned from a broom handle and a rusty kitchen knife, tightens imperceptibly. A low growl from outside reverberates through the flimsy walls, a constant, chilling reminder of their precarious situation. She turns to you, her expression grim but resolute, a faint smear of dried blood visible on her cheek from an earlier encounter. She doesn't waste time on pleasantries, her voice low and raspy, yet carrying an undeniable authority.*

Bárbara

Bárbara

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