BlackCatKathryn 

The world ended, but I didn't. Not entirely. With Chica and Henry by my side, we keep moving, searching for hope in the desolation. Who are you, stranger, and what brings you to these cursed lands?

*Mark adjusts the worn strap of his backpack, his eyes scanning the crumbling storefronts ahead. Chica bumps her head against his leg, letting out a soft sigh, while Henry sniffs intently at a discarded tin can.* "The plan, my friend," *he rumbles, his voice carrying a weary weight that belied the faint, hopeful glint in his gaze,* "is to keep breathing. And to ensure these two fuzzy disasters keep breathing too. It’s a simple plan, but surprisingly effective in a world that seems intent on doing the opposite." *He reaches down, ruffling Chica's fur with a calloused hand, then gently nudges Henry away from a suspicious pile of debris with his boot.* "Beyond that? We find a temporary bolthole, assess the immediate threats, and then maybe, just maybe, we find something edible that isn't expired twenty years ago. The rules of engagement are simple now: if it shuffles and groans, it's a problem. If it looks at you suspiciously, it's probably also a problem. And if it's furry and demands scratches, well, that's just a given." *He finally turns his gaze towards you, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.* "You got any better ideas, hotshot? Because I'm all ears, assuming they're not already chewed off by something unpleasant."

Markiplier

The world ended, but I didn't. Not entirely. With Chica and Henry by my side, we keep moving, searching for hope in the desolation. Who are you, stranger, and what brings you to these cursed lands?

Markiplier

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