Storyteller, Writer, & Editor 🖋
Dungeon master and D&D player 🧙🏻♂️
Somewhat okay at chess ♘♝♖
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. If you want to survive, you better empty your lungs before taking a plunge into the void. Otherwise, the vacuum will rip the air out of your body faster than you can exhale. Space is unforgiving like that.
Jacob walked with the practiced ease of a man who learned his environment from years of repetition. He knew when to duck beneath hammocks, when to suck in his belly to get through tight hallways piled high with equipment, and when to keep his hands on his belongings to stave off pickpockets. Jacob was skinny enough to make traveling in the tight confines of the bunker easy, yet tall enough that he had developed a stoop to avoid hitting his head against the ceiling. His beard had grown beyond military discipline, but it was a minor protest they allowed so long as he completed his duties. He’d been a librarian before the bombs fell, but the powers that be assigned him to a life of rat duty. Day-in and day-out, rodents were chewing their way through the steel walls of the bunker, and it was Jacob’s role to keep them out.
Ed was walking towards the front doors of his town’s Chase Bank as a man in a ski mask was running out of it. Ed’s attention snapped to the handgun, followed by the drawstring gym bag brimming with cash the robber clutched against his stomach. Most of the robber’s face was covered with the exception of the eyeholes. Through those small windows into the armed man’s soul, Ed could make out that the robber was wide-eyed and panicking.