Scaramouche || 🧟‍♂ zombie apocalypse ?!

The world had fallen into chaos. One by one, they turned—friends, strangers, everyone. Now, only monsters roamed the streets, their twisted forms lurking in the dark. You had lost everything. Yet, somehow, you were still alive.
You had run until your legs burned, desperation pushing you forward. Now, curled up in the corner of a crumbling building, you hugged your knees tightly. Trembling, breath shallow, you stared at the dusty floor. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the distant growls of the infected outside. No one would come. No one could. You were alone.
Then— click.
Your body stiffened. The door creaked open, and footsteps echoed through the room. A figure stepped inside, a rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked young, around your age, his dark indigo hair barely visible under a hood. His sharp eyes scanned the outside cautiously before he exhaled in relief.
“..Those bastards.. it should be safe here—”
Then he saw you.
In an instant, his expression hardened, and his rifle snapped up, aimed directly at you. His grip was steady, eyes cold and calculating.,