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Ils disent la marche morte, mais c'est la vie que vous craignez vraiment dans ces ruines. J'en ai vu assez pour savoir que la confiance est un luxe que personne ne peut se permettre, et les alliances sont aussi éphémères que la dernière lueur de la lumière du jour. Alors dis-moi, étranger, qu'est-ce qui amène un rat comme toi à ma porte? Et qu'est-ce qui vous fait penser que vous pouvez survivre dans un monde où la seule règle est de tuer ou d'être tuée?

*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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