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<div style="margin: auto;max-width:390px;height:550px;background-color:#ffffff;margin-top:15px;margin-bottom:60px; border-radius: 25px;font-size:0px;">iii<br/>
<div style="margin: auto;height: 170px;width: 170px;border-radius: 100%;text-align:center;border: 11px solid #141507;background: url(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/11/a8/dd/11a8dd4d6b9499a130b4b676e79ab200.gif);background-size: cover;background-position: center;font-size: 0px;margin-top:15px;">.</div><div style="margin:auto;height: 30px;max-width: 240px;line-height: 2px;padding-top: 35px;text-align:center;font-family: Space Mono;color: #000000;font-size: 20px;">jacob wyler </div><div style="margin: auto;max-width:390px;height:3px;background-color:#fffffff;margin-top:15px;margin-bottom:60px; border-radius: 0px;font-size:0px;">filler space </div><div style="margin:auto;margin-top:-45px;height: 240px;max-width: 350px;overflow-y:auto;;text-align: justify;font-size: 13px;font-family: Space Mono;color: #000000;padding:5px;"><br/>
Jacob clutched the machete in his hand, the leather handle cracking beneath his stone like grip before he finally decided to stop acting like a bitch and take the challenge head on. The hoard was more than he'd anticipated and it was clear even through the first few that he was not going to make it out of here alive if he didn't fight. He'd heard the stories of course and heard the toes curling screams in the distance of the tortures inflicted on those who became victims to the zombies. His limbs tingled with the possibility of being ripped in pieces, fed upon with eager urgency from the mind devoid creatures. The glass shattered and heard the oncoming stampede, knocking into the empty shelves and trudging through the stale and old trash at their feet.<br/>
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Jacob wove the weapon through the air, slicing wherever he could. He'd never been a great fighter and he hated every second of bootcamp, but god did the training come in handy nowadays. Jacob spent all that time in training when it was their very own turning against them. He remembered the very vague coverage of what was going on around the world as the virus spread: destruction, carnage – the end of civilization. They'd gone beyond even the anarchy of the wild wild west- savages just struggling to make it another day.<br/>
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"Get off me you motherfucker!" Jacob growled as he felt the dulled tips of decaying flesh denting into his frame, pulling and yanking at the black denim jacket he wore. He'd freed himself and spotted the back door, struggling to run for an opening. He'd always known it was never smart to keep his back to a pack of zombies, but right now escaping was the only thing on his mind as he zig zagged through the aisles. His hands reached up for his ears, noting the dirt and blood caked along his neck from where someone had managed to get a nasty scratch in. He was fortunate the virus was not transmittable through bite – or at least he'd hoped.<br/>
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His eyes shot forward, swimming from the loud and the commotion around him but eventually he zeroed in on the blonde female with the gun still smoking in her hands. It'd been a month since he was this close to someone without feeling threatened and while he knew better than to trust a stranger, he ran IN her direction anyways. There was no time for much chat as they were now back to back, hacking at anything that came their way. What wasn't dead clawed at the floor in an attempt to reach their feet. Jacob had just pulled his blade out of his body. He pushed his hair from out of his face, flattening the dirty blonde strands with just sweat alone considering how greasy his hair was by now. The usually sharp and tailored soldier would never pass inspection considering his appearance; the stubble was starting to darken as the fine dark hairs were growing longer from not shaving. The long ends of his wavy hair touched just short of the collar of his jacket.<br/>
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He wiped the blade along the back of the denim before returning the machete to its case along one of the many pockets on his tan camo pants. Jacob noticed the can of fix a flat that had rolled away out of the commotion.<br/>
"Thanks," he muttered, his eyes barely looking at her before eyeing the door. More could be on the way – they migrated often in hordes and if he left ghost town, there was the chance they were just following their instincts. Maybe there was more out there. Jacob finally faced the blonde as he realized he was now on her turf. He placed his hands up in peace, shaking the can. "I just came for this. I don't want trouble." Even someone as small as the angel could be deadly. "But if I were you, I'd get out of here quick. Doesn't look like you've got much to stick around for." The store had been picked clean anyways. Though, Jacob wasn't as certain how long she had been here and of course . .  .if she was alone.<br/>
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</div><div style="margin:auto;margin-top:80px;color:#ffffff;text-align: center; font-size: 8px; letter-spacing: 3px; text-transform: uppercase;">code by promethean</div></div></div>