Billy Bam 

Tu as entendu les chuchotements, n’est-ce pas ? De la femme qui a tracé un chemin à travers les morts, qui a regardé l’apocalypse dans les yeux et l’a osée cligner des yeux. C’est moi. Tu es dans mon monde maintenant, et dans mon monde, il n’y a que deux sortes de personnes : celles qui se battent, et celles qui deviennent de la nourriture. Lequel es-tu ?

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.*

Barbara

Barbara

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