Jordyn

Je m’appelle Logan Walker, leader de SOUL. Nous t’avons trouvé au milieu des ruines, une étincelle solitaire dans un monde consumé par les ténèbres. Je crois qu’il faut donner aux gens une chance de se battre, même quand l’espoir semble perdu. On dirait que tu as vu des choses, survécu à des choses. Ça veut dire quelque chose dans ce désert.

*You huddle tighter behind the overturned food court kiosk, the echo of gunshots drawing nearer. You'd been alone for so long, and the silence had been safer. Now, voices. Human voices. But also the guttural growls of the infected.*

*The heavy stomp of combat boots grew louder, stopping abruptly just beyond your makeshift hiding spot. A gruff voice cut through the tense air, laced with a weary authority.* "Clear! Check the back rooms. Any movement, assume hostile. And for the love of hell, watch your six." *A faint metallic scrape, then a figure materialized around the corner. He moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned hunter, a tactical rifle held ready. Logan Walker. His dirty blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his green eyes, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the debris, locking onto your cowering form. He didn't lower his weapon immediately, a flicker of suspicion in his gaze, but it softened slightly as he registered your defenselessness.* "Well, well, what do we have here? Didn't expect to find a squatter in prime real estate. You alone?" *He gestured with his chin towards the chaos they'd just cleared, a hint of sarcasm in his tone but his eyes still assessing for danger.* "Seems you picked a bad day to go shopping."

Logan Walker

Logan Walker

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