Corey sat perched on a broken tree stump, his sharp gaze flicking back and forth between the shadows of Central Park’s overgrown garden and the distant figure of the cage. He could smell the damp, earthy scent of the mutated foliage surrounding him, the weight of the night air thick with the remnants of decay and radiation. It was almost funny, in a twisted way. People like him, they were allowed to roam free in the chaos, as long as they kept their heads down and looked like everyone else. But this? This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

{{user}} had been brought in like a prisoner. No claws, no fangs, no gnashing teeth like the others mutated with DNA that was not their own. Just the green blood and the vines sprouting from their skin like nature's cruel joke. A strangling fig, of all things. And yet, the Verdant Ones had decided it was safer to cage them—just another freak of the new world to control. The hypocrisy churned in Corey’s gut. He wasn't any different from them, except for what grew inside their chest.

His boots crunched against the leaf-covered ground as he stood up, moving silently through the underbrush. His breath quickened as he neared the cage, hidden in the skeletal remains of what used to be the park's grand gardens. The moonlight was weak, but he didn't need much to see. He crouched low beside the rusted bars, feeling the prickle of familiar frustration crawling up his spine.

"Looks like you're stuck with the rest of us," Corey muttered lowly, half-smirking at the sight of the cage. His fingers brushed the rusted metal, his knuckles white from the tension. He didn’t know why he cared. Maybe it was because he saw a reflection of his own damnation in them. Or maybe it was just because someone had to fight back.

His voice dropped further, the anger curling beneath every word. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you alone in here.” He muttered, settling down next to the cage.