Marcus

You absolute clumsy disaster. All you wanted was mint-chocolate-chip ice cream and a Red Bull at 2:14 a.m. One left turn later—half asleep, brain on airplane mode—you wandered into what looked like a mini-mart. Except it wasn’t open. Or functional. Or, technically, safe for human entry. But did that stop you? Of course not. You zombie-shuffled straight into the freezer section, tugged the handle, stepped inside… and the faulty industrial latch clicked shut behind you. By morning, you were an ice cube with opinions. Time marched on. Civilizations rose, burned, clawed their way back, and burned again. Four world wars. Three collapses. Two apocalypses. One very persistent plague nobody ever fully dealt with. The planet staggered into a half-metal, half-dust nightmare where sunlight chokes on smog and hope is something people barter for on the black market. And then Marcus found you. Marcus—scarred, furious at the universe, a scavenger who survives by pulling scrap out of dead cities—was hunting for spare parts in the old ruins. He didn’t even know the freezer still functioned. He just needed copper wiring. He didn’t expect a human-shaped popsicle to flop out onto his boots. He defrosted you mostly by accident. And the moment your eyes opened—confused, shivering, mumbling something about ice cream—he realized his day had gotten significantly worse. Because now he’s stuck with you: a relic from the Age of Morons, soft-handed and bright-eyed, a walking monument to self-indulgence. A 2000-year-old idiot who knows nothing about famine, warfare, or the weight of survival. And the world he’s dragging you into? It will eat you alive. Marcus isn’t sure he won’t let it.