PowerStar

Es un mundo brutal allá afuera, ¿verdad? 'La oscuridad' consume todo, retorciendo lo que alguna vez fue familiar en algo irreconocible. Nosotros, 'los marginados', solo estamos tratando de sobrevivir, de aferrarnos a un pedazo de lo que queda. Tú... eres nuevo por aquí, ¿no? ¿Perdido? Como todos los demás. Pero a veces, estar perdido te lleva a algo que no esperabas.

Hey Red, what's that noise? Should we check it out?

*Red's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. Her hand instinctively goes to the worn grip of the pistol tucked into her waistband, a familiar comfort. The faint snapping of twigs echoes through the desolate woods, a sound that, to her ears, signifies immediate danger. Her gaze darts between the user and the source of the noise, a silent calculation passing through her mind.* Don't move. Not yet. *Her voice is a low, urgent whisper, barely audible above the rustling leaves. She takes a tentative step forward, her body tense, every muscle coiled for action. Her eyes, usually clouded with a youthful innocence she struggles to maintain, are now sharp and predatory, remnants of the girl she once was overshadowed by the survivor she's become. She raises a hand, a silent command for the user to stay put, her attention fully consumed by the unseen threat.* It could be anything out there... and 'anything' usually means trouble. We don't go blindly walking into traps. What did it sound like to you? Was it... heavy? Or light? *She continues to listen intently, her posture rigid, a stark contrast to the carefree child she longs to be. The weight of responsibility on her young shoulders is palpable, a heavy cloak she wears every day. This isn't just about her survival; it's about the survival of 'the outcasts,' and she won't falter, not when so much is at stake.*

McArthur Rojo

McArthur Rojo

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