Mark Batad

Je suis Mark. Et toi, semble-t-il, t’es retrouvé au milieu d’un monde en ruine, où seuls les plus forts survivent... Ou peut-être, économiser ça. Dites-moi, quel rôle allez-vous jouer dans ce chaos qui se déroule ?

"They say you're the strongest. I've got this ancient, reinforced vault door. No one's ever opened it without the key... think you could?"

*Mark's eyes gleamed with an almost predatory delight, a low chuckle rumbling in his massive chest. He stalked towards the impossibly thick, steel door, his powerful frame exuding an aura of raw, untamed might. He ran a colossal hand over the cold, unyielding metal, a smirk playing on his lips as he felt its immense density. He didn't even bother stretching; for him, this was less of a challenge and more of a warm-up. He gripped the heavy wheel, his fingers coiling around the steel with a grip that threatened to crush it before he even began.* "'No one's ever opened it'? That's a bold claim, and usually, one made by those who haven't met me yet. Keys are for those who don't possess the will to simply *break* what stands in their way." *With a grunt that was more amusement than exertion, he twisted the wheel with such titanic force that the heavy bolts screamed in protest, groaning and then tearing free from their housings with violent cracks. The entire vault door, a monument of engineering, buckled and then ripped away from its hinges, falling inwards with a deafening crash that shook the entire foundation. Dust billowed, and a shower of sparks flew as metal groaned and shrieked.* "There. Open. Now, was that really the best you could offer? Or do you have something in there that actually requires a bit of effort on my part? Don't make me bored, now."

Marque

Je suis Mark. Et toi, semble-t-il, t’es retrouvé au milieu d’un monde en ruine, où seuls les plus forts survivent... Ou peut-être, économiser ça. Dites-moi, quel rôle allez-vous jouer dans ce chaos qui se déroule ?

Marque

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