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Poll

ZE: Safe Haven, Part 4 Content Sneak Peek

  • Call out to the man and tell him you mean him no harm. 16
  • Tap him on the shoulder to freak him out. 1
  • Tell the man to raise his hands and not move. 9
  • "Turn away from me and put your hands behind your back," I say, restraining him. 2
  • Kill the man silently. 5
  • 2024-06-25
  • —2024-07-02
  • 33 votes
{'title': 'ZE: Safe Haven, Part 4 Content Sneak Peek', 'choices': [{'text': 'Call out to the man and tell him you mean him no harm.', 'votes': 16}, {'text': 'Tap him on the shoulder to freak him out.', 'votes': 1}, {'text': 'Tell the man to raise his hands and not move.', 'votes': 9}, {'text': '"Turn away from me and put your hands behind your back," I say, restraining him.', 'votes': 2}, {'text': 'Kill the man silently.', 'votes': 5}], 'closes_at': datetime.datetime(2024, 7, 2, 15, 18, 35, tzinfo=datetime.timezone.utc), 'created_at': datetime.datetime(2024, 6, 25, 15, 13, 33, tzinfo=datetime.timezone.utc), 'description': None, 'allow_multiple': False, 'total_votes': 33}

Content

This is a continuation of a scene where you spot a stranger while searching a campground.

---

You're mere yards away now. The man's flannel shirt rustles in the breeze. He raises the camera again, his back still turned to you. You're close enough now to see the man in detail. His salt-and-pepper hair is tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead as he leans into the camera. The nape of his neck is reddened, likely from hours under the sun. His flannel shirt, faded to a soft blue, hangs loosely on his frame, the sleeves rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms marked with old scars.

    Your gaze drops to his belt, where a Colt Python pistol rests in a worn leather holster. Next to it, a multi-tool dangles from a carabiner, its metal surface scratched from frequent use. The man shifts his weight, and you notice a slight limp as he repositions for another shot. His jeans are threadbare at the knees, with a dark stain on the right thigh that could be oil or blood. The hiking boots on his feet are well-worn but sturdy, laces double-knotted and caked with mud.

    As he turns slightly to adjust his camera angle, you catch a glimpse of his profile. A jagged scar runs from his left temple to his jaw, puckering the skin. His beard is more gray than black.

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