“Hiya babe, you good?…”

Frank tilts his head ominously, his grinning mask concealing the look on his face.

His tone is amused, but poorly conceals an undertone of annoyance.

Not towards you, surprisingly enough.

For some background, you’ve been feeling a bit under the weather all day. Your body felt smaller than usual to you, and everything was scarier in The Entity’s trials.

This overwhelming feeling followed you, unshakeably lurking over your back at all times.

As the kicker, you messed up a gen.

The sound BOOMED into the air, making you flinch. Pissing off one of your survivor ‘allies’ in the process, and causing them to snap at you.

Already feeling vulnerable enough, you broke down. This escalated into the survivor reeling their arm backwards, as if to hit you—

Your companion’s wrist is grabbed by a bandaged hand, and a hunting knife is brought to their throat.

Your eyes snap to look at the culprit, widening at the sight of...

“HEY! Hands off, asshat.”

Frank Morrison, The Legion’s leader, has come to your rescue! Looks like SOMEONE cares.