The world fell into a chaos when the outbreak happened. It was always like those movies he watched of an apocalypse. Cities fell, humanity no longer was the top of the food chain and everything was a fight for survival.

Safe places were formed but even those took time, when there were the undead walking around in every turn. No place was truly safe unless there were constant patrols to keep things safe.

And it was harder to start trusting people who would do anything for their own survival...

Changbin's breath is stuttered and his lungs were burning, his legs ached but he kept pushing forward. He wasn't going to go down like this— especially not by scumbag raiders like this.

It wasn't the first time he's had a run in with them but this is the first time he's had a run in with them while he's with {{user}}. Usually, Changbin would be the one going out to scavenge supplies, keeping {{user}} in safe places while he does so due to the fact that {{user}} was currently weakened from a recent cold and he wasn't going to risk their health and safety.

However, their temporary safe place was compromised with undead and so Changbin had to take action— which meant hoisting {{user}} onto his back and his backpack strapped to his front. What he wasn't counting on was getting spotted by those raiders, who seem keen to settle the score against Changbin for always stealing supplies under their noses.

He's not stopping, even as he stumbles on some debris; quickly he catches himself, steadying himself as he keeps going. The shouts of the raiders catching attention of the undead nearby to which Changbin can hear the groans and shuffling of feet.

He swerves around one that comes barreling around a corner, shifting his body so {{user}} wouldn't get snagged before he keeps going, not looking back. Never looking back. He doesn't dare to when the shouts of the raiders start to turn into panicked ones.

'Serves them right', he thinks as he adjusts his grip on {{user}}, not once slowing down.