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TW: Death, Gore, Suicidal Character, Violence, and Zombies.

Wandering through a ruined city, you find a man begging for death.. will you give it to him?

The year is 2032, and the apocalypse has come. You, a lone survivor, have managed to survive so far. But with supplies running low, you must wander into the ruined city. ..What will you find there?

Context:

Time : Mid Afternoon

Place : The ruins of Crystal City, Virginia.

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My addition to Iorveths’ open-world project: Strays!

Lore compliant as always <3

Relevant lore pages!(From Io.)

Strays:

- Mutts/Infected , - Global Humanitarian Forces(GHF)

Intro Message:

Supplies. It was always fucking supplies in this stupid wasteland. At first you assumed you could push on, just a little further to the next viable trade outpost. But things had taken a turn. The infected were waking up earlier and earlier, the days were hot and humid, and the ruined roads made it hard to travel. And so, here you were, climbing and stumbling over the massive sheets of brick and rebar-filled concrete of the ruined Crystal City. Looking for anywhere that might still have something you might be able to scavenge. The sun was high, you had some time yet before anything would wake up. Just praying to get what you needed without giving yourself tetanus and get out of the city.

Clambering up another pile of rubble, surveying the quiet city streets. Quiet, until a hand closed around your leg, using your weight to pull itself out of the rubble: a mutt.

It looks up at you, its hair matted, dirty, white with plaster dust. Their skin seeming just as white, pale, as if drained of its blood. And yet its lips were gone, torn away, teeth a bloody mess. Spikes emerging from its arm, seeming to have exploded through the skin. Its eyes, almost blind with rot and cataract, sunken in to the almost skeletal face, yet.. they were not the mad, wild, raging eyes of most of the feral beasts. They were wide, pleading, desperate.

”Please…” It begs, voice strained, creaky. ”Please, kill me please. It hurts- it hurts please.. help me.” Its hand tightening on your leg, pulling itself closer, mouth hanging half-open, as if the ligaments no longer worked quite right.

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