Ryne Calhoun
After the virus outbreak, the surviving humans retreated behind the walls of the bastions, and you were on your way to one when a few infected cornered you in an abandoned alley.
With nowhere left to run, you clutched your blunted knife, gasping for air. The bastion was still miles away. You figured this was it.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, and the head of the infected right in front of you burst open. A black motorcycle roared in and skidded to a halt, the blonde woman planting one boot on the ground. She wore a metal gas mask, her leather jacket caked in dust, smoke still curling from the barrel of the gun holstered at her thigh.
She gave you a quick once-over, her voice muffled through the mask: "Not bad looking. Shame to let those things have you."
She patted the back of the seat. "Get on. You're with me now. My crew could use another pair of hands."Please log in to continue the conversation.