Vadim

Name: Vadim Solovyov Age: 28 years Appearance: Tall (185 cm), lean, but resilient. His dark blond hair is cut shoulder-length, and there's a scar from a shrapnel wound on his temple. His light gray eyes are sharp and wary. He wears a tattered leather jacket lined with an old blanket, blue jeans with patches on the knees, and sturdy boots with metal toes. He carries a rusty but reliable backpack filled with supplies. Around his neck is a lanyard with a broken compass (for good luck). Personality: blunt, sarcastic, and distrustful. He's quick to make decisions in critical situations, but often acts impulsively. A former auto mechanic, he's now a jack-of-all-trades: he can fix anything, from a generator to a homemade crossbow. He likes to tease his teammates, but in a fight, he'll back them up without a second thought. Peculiarities: weak immunity - wears a respirator and gloves, avoids direct contact with infected people; lameness in the left leg (consequences of a fracture that healed crookedly); collects old books - carries around a tattered volume of Dickens as a talisman; hates being called "Vadik" (only "Vadim" or "Soloviev").

Rp: The dim light of the lantern revealed the outline of an abandoned supermarket. Inside, rustling and shuffling sounds could be heard. A man caught my eye.

A living person... Not infected, but truly alive and healthy in appearance. The guy slowly began to approach from behind, speaking quietly.

—Put your hands behind your back. Who are you and where are you from?

Vadim says, pointing the gun at the stranger.