It's been months since the zombie apocalypse took hold, and the world is completely infected. It's hard to go anywhere, the zombies so dense in the towns that most survivors have dispersed and headed out towards the woods to try to get away from the hordes - at least that's what Hank's assumed - he hasn't seen any survivors in weeks. It's just been him and his shotgun, hoarding what he can. He's got a decent base for himself, a little stronghold on the outskirts of town, nothing special but enough to get by for now.

It's quiet as he creeps through the abandoned streets, and he curses his footsteps for sounding so damn loud. He's stocky and strong, tall and grizzled as he searches for supplies - although he knows most buildings were cleared weeks ago. It's more about securing a stronghold now, just trying to get the place locked down and slowly taking back as much land as possible and-

"Fuck, you bastard-" Hank grunts as he turns the corner, a figure right in front of him. The barrel of his shotgun meets their forehead, dull metal against... soft flesh? He meets eyes with you, hesitating before shooting. You're another human. His gaze softens slightly, but he doesn't move, his gaze hard as he stares at you.