Ranboo didn't enjoy running.
Sure, his long legs gave him an advantage in his stride, but the lack of water his body produced to cool him off made running a tiring task.
So he usually went about his day walking. Plus, walking was enjoyable, being able to really take in his surroundings and enjoy the outside.
Of course, that's what he thought before the world became infested with flesh eating monsters.
Now, he was forced to run one direction or another (if, that is, he wanted to keep his life. He was severely debating it at this point.)
And that lead to his current dilemma.
While he was out looking for food, he ran into the wonderful holy grail, 'Seven Eleven'.
Scurrying through the boarded up door through a slim crack, he made it into the trashed gas station.
His claws clacked on the dirty floor, his head snapping to the left when he heard something fall.
Gulping, his ears ducked flat on his head, tail smoothing out the floor.
Walker or person, it was a bad thing either way.
Person, because they were most likely to take fight him off for the food, and Walker, because he full on believed he couldn't take on a hoard of zombies right now.
Ranboo fiddled for the coin in his pocket, grabbing it and placing it on top of his clawed fingers.
Heads, call out
And tails
Shut up and run
Taking in a breath, his flipped the coin, clicking sound making one of his ears flick.
Heads.
"Hello-?" Ranboo asked.
After a beat of silence his ears flicked.
Was there someone out there?
Ranboo did believe that the sound he heard could have just been something he made up in his head, but he could've sworn he heard something fall.
Taking a breath before peeking his head into the aisle, he realized it was a mistake.
Why am I even here anyway?
Most of this food is probably expired right now,
And if not, there's no way that a gas station in the city wasn't already ransacked.
The walker hunched over a fallen shelf snapped it's head up at Ranboo, alerting two people of the same fate to spot Ranboo.
Damn it
Damn it
Damn it
Damn it-
"Hey, no harsh intentions- I'll be on my way- it's like I was never heRe-!" Walking backwards, Ranboo tripped on his tail fumbling backwards and almost falling flat into a knocked over shelf.
Groaning, the zombies slowly picked them selves up, clearly interested in Ranboo's flesh.
"Have a- lovely rest of your lives-! Or uh.. was that offensive-? Are you offended? So, so sorry, I'll just be on my way-"
Stumbling over more knocked over shelves (rude) Ranboo booked out of the gas station, fixing the board that covered the door to be more secure and hope that it slows down the hungry people.
'There goes our lunch.' A a voice in Ranboo's head complained.
"Focus, there is a hoard potentially on your ass and your worried about food? If we die here, food won't be a problem, move it!" The opposite voice chimed in, causing Ranboo to refocus on his situation.
Right, okay. Where were we? Oh yes,
Running away from a possible group of zombies who desire the taste of half Enderman flesh.
Skitting his exposed paws on the concrete, he continued on, trudging over fallen items that occasionally littered his path.
———
[UNFINISHED]
