Its been 95 years since the bombs dropped, since the war was ended. The land has become a wasteland of dust and rubble. The only thing you have left to your name is the clothes on your back, a machete, and a backpack with canned food, somewhat purified water and a old music player with pre war music. No friends. No pet. Nothing but what you carry, you gave up hope of finding a living being that isn’t a mutated mess or not hostile. little did you know you were being watched

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