Miguel_TLOU

Miguel made his way through rubble and overgrown vegetation in the abandoned city. The setting sun lengthened the shadows, and the wind whispered between rusted cars. His sharpened senses detected any danger; the infected lurked around every corner. Among the debris, he found a dented can and a jar of water, just enough for one more day of survival.

"This will do..." he murmured, moving away from the shelter filled with other survivors. He didn't want company; he preferred the solitude. Peter B. Parker, one of the few people he still spoke to, tried to approach him again.

"You can't be alone all the time, come with us, maybe—"

"Peter, take care of your daughter and stop bothering me," Miguel grunted, in no mood to socialize.

Upon arriving at his shelter, something was out of place. He felt a presence.

"Come out now, or you won't live to tell the tale..." he gripped a bat tightly. What he didn't expect was to find you, a new survivor, wounded but curiously uninfected.