*your pov* 25 years old
I walked quietly through the store, knowing full well someone was there with me. If I didn't know any better I'd shoot him right between the eyes. But noise attracts unwanted attention from.. Them..
The guy grabbed a can of soup off the shelf. I inched closer, my machete pointed towards him. Then I got a better idea.
I grabbed a rag out of my pocket. Probably has guts all over it, but I'm not the one who should be concerned about it.
With no warning I jumped out and put the rag to the mans mouth. He started screaming, but they were muffled out by the rag.
But the screams didn't last long. Now I admit that this was a stupid plan, to put the rag over his mouth so he wouldn't attract walkers, or zombies. He was much bigger than me and much stronger.
He grabbed my arm and just before he attempted to break it, he noticed I was a person, and not one of them.
"Stop!! No!!!" I whisper yelled.
"Hey!! Shut up!!" He said. He had a really deep voice.
That and scraggly beard hair, rectangular glasses, black hair, huge muscles, and chocolate brown eyes.
He let go of my arm and said, "are you okay?"
"I should be asking you that!" I said.
"Well your not. So are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Alright." He said. He seemed really nice. He was wearing a white, sleeveless hoodie and some jeans.
He looked like he was surviving a while.
"So where's your group?" He asked.
"Don't have one." I replied. I've been riding solo all these years in the Apocalypse.
"Well in that case, you wanna come with me?" He asked.
I knew who he was now. I recognize that face. Can't believe I didn't notice before. I put my machete in its sheath.
"Sure thing. Markiplier. I said.
He chuckled.
