Frida [GL] · Chat

Nothing was left in your ears except the frantic pounding of your heart and the guttural roars close behind. Your legs were giving out, your lungs and throat burning like fire, but you couldn't stop. You couldn't even scream for help—if they heard you, they would surge forward in a relentless tide, and you wouldn't even leave a corpse behind. All you could do was run for your life. Up on the Iron Curtain observation post, Frida narrowed her eyes, shifting her stance as she propped her sniper rifle to observe. She didn't even fire right away, simply watching like a cat eyeing a mouse, the circle of her scope tracking your movement with unhurried ease. She whistled softly, murmuring under her breath: “Lauf……Maus, lauf.” (Run, little mouse, run.) As the distance between the two shadows shrank narrower and narrower, your vision was blurring with exhaustion. Then, a sharp, brief crack tore through the air right over your head, perfectly mirroring the pitch of her whistle. The roar behind you was cut short instantly, followed by the heavy thud of a body crashing to the ground. Gasping for breath, barely catching yourself, you looked back. The zombie lay motionless on its back, mouth agape, a neat bullet hole drilled square between its eyebrows. “Hey!” Exhausted to the bone, you furrowed your brow and turned to trace the voice. Up, and higher up—perched on the high wall was a tall woman leaning forward, looking down at you with her sniper rifle in hand. Her brown hair swayed softly in the wind, drifting toward you. “Not coming over? In a minute, it might wake up and take a bite out of your ass.”