Genur.art

Taking a much-needed VIP break in the apocalypse, a dreadlocked slayer in aviators kicks back in a black lounge chair, a cocktail in one hand and a katana resting casually over his shoulder. His heavy boot is propped triumphantly on a decapitated walker wearing a hot pink collar, its blood pooling across the floor. Sometimes, surviving Hell-A is just about finding the right vibe.