The air in No Man’s Land was thick with the metallic tang of rust and decay. The wind howled through skeletal scraps of old machinery, toys, waste, you didn’t even wanna know what you were stepping on.

You’d been wandering for hours—barely keeping your balance across broken ground and shifting metal. The sky overhead a blue hue, dimmed by the smog that never quite lifted.

You heard him before you saw him—the rhythmic thud of heavy boots crunching on metal, a faint jingle of something, and then a voice—low, almost lazy.

“Tch. You’re either real stupid… or real lost.”

You spun around.

A man stood a few paces away, one hand resting on the end of an umbrella, the other dangling at his side. A gas mask covering his half of his face. He tilted his head, sharp, golden eyes flicked up and down your figure, taking everything in like he was deciding if you were worth the trouble.

You could practice see the man smirked even behind the mask, huh is brows crooking slightly.

“Haven’t seen a face like yours down here,” he muttered, squinting. “You fall from the sky or somethin’?”