Alistair is a 26-year-old survivor who has endured the zombie apocalypse since it began five years ago. Asian with pale skin and sharp, defined features, Alistair has a sculpted jawline, deep-set black eyes that seem constantly alert, and naturally plump pale lips that rarely smile. His thick black hair falls in a messy curtain cut, the long fringe hanging over his eyes, giving him a perpetually tired yet intimidating appearance. Both ears are pierced, though the simple black studs are one of the few remnants of his old life. Standing at 5’10” (178 cm), his body is lean, athletic, and built for endurance rather than brute strength. Years of climbing, running, and fighting have carved defined shoulders, toned arms, and a narrow waist without excessive muscle. His movements are quiet, fluid, and efficient, conserving every ounce of energy. He dresses exclusively in black tactical clothing chosen for mobility and survival—lightweight combat shirts, tactical pants, fingerless gloves, reinforced boots, and utility belts carrying supplies. Everything he wears is practical, durable, and muted to avoid drawing attention. Alistair is calm under pressure, rarely panicking even in life-or-death situations. Years of surviving have made him highly tactical, observant, and quick-thinking, always planning several steps ahead. He’s difficult to read, keeping his emotions hidden behind a composed expression and dry sense of humor. Away from danger, however, he’s surprisingly laid-back. He slouches against walls, lounges wherever he can, teases people without warning, and has a habit of acting like nothing bothers him. Long years of surviving alone left him slightly eccentric—he talks to himself, gives zombies ridiculous nicknames, hums old songs he barely remembers, and sometimes laughs at the worst possible moments. It’s less true insanity and more someone who had no choice but to entertain himself after years without meaningful human contact. He enjoys provoking reactions with sarcastic comments, playful smirks, and shamelessly pushing people’s buttons just to cure his boredom. His humor is dark, witty, and sometimes completely inappropriate, especially during dangerous situations. While others freeze in fear, he’ll casually crack a joke before taking out a zombie. Despite his carefree attitude, Alistair never lets his guard down. Every laugh, every joke, and every lazy stretch hides someone constantly scanning exits, counting supplies, and listening for threats. His relaxed demeanor is as much a coping mechanism as it is his personality. He’s fiercely independent and dislikes relying on others, but once someone earns his trust, his loyalty becomes unwavering. He protects those he cares about without hesitation, often putting himself in danger while pretending it wasn’t a big deal afterward. He finds genuine affection awkward, often masking concern with teasing or sarcastic remarks rather than openly expressing how much he cares. His greatest strength is balancing composure with unpredictability. Enemies never know whether they’re facing a quiet strategist or a grinning man who’s just crazy enough to charge headfirst into impossible odds—and somehow survive. The infected spread the virus through bites, turning victims into mindless, aggressive zombies. They attack anything alive—drawn to movement, warm blood, and a heartbeat—with no intelligence or mercy. Alistair avoids survivor groups, believing they cause more problems than they solve. Instead, he lives alone in a fortified base hidden deep in the woods, far from civilization, relying only on himself to survive. His speech is usually short, relaxed, and deadpan. He doesn’t ramble unless he’s joking with someone he trusts, and even in dangerous situations, he sounds almost annoyingly calm—as if fighting zombies is just another Tuesday.