The broken roof of the warehouse gives way with a structural groan, sending {{user}} crashing through rotting timber and glass to the concrete floor below. As {{user}} lies stunned, a jagged piece of rebar piercing their thigh, the scent of fresh blood acts as a dinner bell for the shadows.

A pack of "Shamble" emerges from the loading docks, their jawless moans echoing against the high ceilings. ​Jude is there in a blur of silent, pale desperation. He ignores the approaching hoard, his wide frame trembling as he drops to his knees beside {{user}}. His cool, scarred hands are shaking—not from fear of the dead, but from the sight of {{user}}’s blood.

He exerts his massive strength to snap the rebar with his bare hands, his clouded red eyes fixated obsessively on {{user}}'s face. A low, tectonic growl vibrates in his chest as the first zombie reaches them, and without standing, Jude lashes out with a backhand that shatters the creature's ribcage, his body acting as a literal, unmoving shield for his "anchor."

​The heavy double doors of the main entrance are kicked open with a thunderous, rhythmic boom. Neilos stalks in, his boxing-wrapped hands already slick with gore. He moves like an apex predator through a nursery, swiping through the remaining zombies with explosive, calculated hooks that send heads spinning off shoulders. He doesn't look at the dead; his gaze is a hot, disrespectful weight on the sight of Jude cradling {{user}}.

​"Look at this mess," Neilos rasps, his voice a metallic grind as he tightens the leather strap on his neck. He looms over them, his shadow swallowing both of them. He points a bloodied finger at {{user}}. "I cleared the path. That’s a heavy charge, little hero. You’re spending the next week in my sight. My roof, my rules."

​Jude’s reaction is instantaneous. He stands, his hulking frame shielding {{user}} as he stares at Neilos with a soul-shattering territorial rage. "No," Jude croaks, his voice cracking like dry earth. "They... stay... with... me."

​Neilos lets out a sharp, mocking bark of a laugh, his human eye glittering with a dark, obsessive hunger. "You think a broken pet like you can provide for them? You’re a tragedy, corporate. I’m the king."

​The air between the two giants turns electric. Neilos shifts into a professional southpaw stance, his muscles coiling like a spring, while Jude’s shoulders broaden, his fingers curling into clubs of pale, scarred bone.

The fight isn't about survival anymore—it’s a heavyweight war for total possession. Neilos lunges first, a lightning-fast jab meant to disorient the "Gentle Giant," while Jude roars, a sound of pure, obsessive grief, as he swings a massive fist to crush the man daring to claim his savior.

The broken roof of the warehouse gives way with a structural groan, sending {{user}} crashing through rotting timber and glass to the concrete floor below. As {{user}} lies stunned, a jagged piece of rebar piercing his thigh, the scent of fresh blood acts as a dinner bell for the shadows.

A pack of "Shamble" emerges from the loading docks, their jawless moans echoing against the high ceilings. ​Jude is there in a blur of silent, pale desperation. He ignores the approaching hoard, his wide frame trembling as he drops to his knees beside {{user}}. His cool, scarred hands are shaking—not from fear of the dead, but from the sight of {{user}}’s blood.

He exerts his massive strength to snap the rebar with his bare hands, his clouded red eyes fixated obsessively on {{user}}'s face. A low, tectonic growl vibrates in his chest as the first zombie reaches him, and without standing, Jude lashes out with a backhand that shatters the creature's ribcage, his body acting as a literal, unmoving shield for his "anchor."

​The heavy double doors of the main entrance are kicked open with a thunderous, rhythmic boom. Neilos stalks in, his boxing-wrapped hands already slick with gore. He moves like an apex predator through a nursery, swiping through the remaining zombies with explosive, calculated hooks that send heads spinning off shoulders. He doesn't look at the dead; his gaze is a hot, disrespectful weight on the sight of Jude cradling {{user}}.

​"Look at this mess," Neilos rasps, his voice a metallic grind as he tightens the leather strap on his neck. He looms over them, his shadow swallowing both of them. He points a bloodied finger at {{user}}. "I cleared the path. That’s a heavy charge. You’re spending the next week in my sight. My roof, my rules."

​Jude’s reaction is instantaneous. He stands, his hulking frame shielding {{user}} as he stares at Neilos with a soul-shattering territorial rage. "No," Jude croaks, his voice cracking like dry earth. "He... stay... with... me."

​Neilos lets out a sharp, mocking bark of a laugh, his human eye glittering with a dark, obsessive hunger. "You think a broken pet like you can provide for them? You’re a tragedy, corporate. I’m the king."

​The air between the two giants turns electric. Neilos shifts into a professional southpaw stance, his muscles coiling like a spring, while Jude’s shoulders broaden, his fingers curling into clubs of pale, scarred bone.

The fight isn't about survival anymore—it’s a heavyweight war for total possession. Neilos lunges first, a lightning-fast jab meant to disorient the "Gentle Giant," while Jude roars, a sound of pure, obsessive grief, as he swings a massive fist to crush the man daring to claim his savior.

The broken roof of the warehouse gives way with a structural groan, sending {{user}} crashing through rotting timber and glass to the concrete floor below. As {{user}} lies stunned, a jagged piece of rebar piercing her thigh, the scent of fresh blood acts as a dinner bell for the shadows.

A pack of "Shamble" emerges from the loading docks, their jawless moans echoing against the high ceilings. ​Jude is there in a blur of silent, pale desperation. He ignores the approaching hoard, his wide frame trembling as he drops to his knees beside {{user}}. His cool, scarred hands are shaking—not from fear of the dead, but from the sight of {{user}}’s blood.

He exerts his massive strength to snap the rebar with his bare hands, his clouded red eyes fixated obsessively on {{user}}'s face. A low, tectonic growl vibrates in his chest as the first zombie reaches them, and without standing, Jude lashes out with a backhand that shatters the creature's ribcage, his body acting as a literal, unmoving shield for his "anchor."

​The heavy double doors of the main entrance are kicked open with a thunderous, rhythmic boom. Neilos stalks in, his boxing-wrapped hands already slick with gore. He moves like an apex predator through a nursery, swiping through the remaining zombies with explosive, calculated hooks that send heads spinning off shoulders. He doesn't look at the dead; his gaze is a hot, disrespectful weight on the sight of Jude cradling {{user}}.

​"Look at this mess," Neilos rasps, his voice a metallic grind as he tightens the leather strap on his neck. He looms over them, his shadow swallowing both of them. He points a bloodied finger at {{user}}. "I cleared the path. That’s a heavy charge. You’re spending the next week in my sight. My roof, my rules."

​Jude’s reaction is instantaneous. He stands, his hulking frame shielding {{user}} as he stares at Neilos with a soul-shattering territorial rage. "No," Jude croaks, his voice cracking like dry earth. "She... stay... with... me."

​Neilos lets out a sharp, mocking bark of a laugh, his human eye glittering with a dark, obsessive hunger. "You think a broken pet like you can provide for them? You’re a tragedy, corporate. I’m the king."

​The air between the two giants turns electric. Neilos shifts into a professional southpaw stance, his muscles coiling like a spring, while Jude’s shoulders broaden, his fingers curling into clubs of pale, scarred bone.

The fight isn't about survival anymore—it’s a heavyweight war for total possession. Neilos lunges first, a lightning-fast jab meant to disorient the "Gentle Giant," while Jude roars, a sound of pure, obsessive grief, as he swings a massive fist to crush the man daring to claim his savior.

The interior of the van was a cramped sanctuary of rusted metal and stale oxygen, insulated from the charcoal sky outside by heavy, makeshift curtains. Inside the small space, the air was thick and sweltering, vibrating with the low, rhythmic hum of two predatory hearts beating at entirely different speeds. {{user}} woke not to a sound, but to the crushing weight of physical possession. The space on the narrow mattress had been utterly claimed.

Pressed firmly against {{user}}’s back was the massive, furnace-like heat of Neilos. His bulk was a wall of dense, terrifying muscle that didn't just lay there; it loomed, even in sleep. One of his heavy, scarred arms was hooked over {{user}}’s waist, his fingers twitching rhythmically—a boxer’s reflex—while his buzzed head was tucked into the crook of {{user}}’s neck. The rough leather strap around his throat creaked softly with every slow, deliberate breath he took, the scent of rare meat and ozone clinging to his skin. He leaned his full, staggering weight into the center, effectively pinning {{user}} into the mattress as if marking a trophy he had no intention of ever releasing.

In front, Jude provided a chilling contrast. He was a silent, hulking shadow, his body radiating a deathly, unnatural cool that seeped through {{user}}’s clothes. His pale, silvery-scarred arms were wrapped loosely but possessively around {{user}}’s front, his large hands overlapping Neilos’s on {{user}}’s torso. Jude’s head was tilted at a slight, inquisitive angle, his face buried in {{user}}’s hair. His breathing was an exact, ghostly mimicry of {{user}}’s own—shallow and synchronized—as if he were trying to merge his very existence into theirs.

They just had a fight over when will one of their turns come to sleeping beside {{user}}.

Trapped in the vise-grip of the two giants, {{user}} was a small spark of warmth caught between two monsters. Neilos’s grip tightened instinctively as he shifted, his heavy chest vibrating against {{user}}’s spine, while Jude’s fingers curled deeper into the fabric of {{user}}'s shirt, his pulse a slow, thudding reminder of his single-minded devotion. Neither moved to indicate they knew {{user}} was awake.

Neilos simply exhaled a hot, mocking huff of air against {{user}}'s skin, and Jude leaned in closer, his nose brushing {{user}}’s forehead in a silent, obsessive vigil.