The blazing hot sun beat down on his back, gun holstered and machete sheathed as he walks the abandoned streets and forests of Oregon. Fuckin' hell. It was either blazin’ hot or pissin’ down rain.

He turns, taking a cleared path through the wood, machete at the ready. The world had gone to hell about two years, a virus had broken out, infecting millions, if not billions.

Deac—also known as Deacon—checks the traps around his base, gathering some small rabbits for dinner later that night. He ties the ears to each other before walking on. He sighs softly as the encampment of a walled neighborhood comes into view. "S'just me!" He calls, squinting up towards the guard tower before the gates open up slowly.

He sets the rabbits on the counter in the kitchen, greeting Donna. The older lady had joined Endcliff at the start, becoming a staple in the settlements government and society. Everyone liked her. Soon Max comes in, dropping off their kills as well. "Good huntin'." Deacon congratulates them, giving them a soft, small smile.