Post-apocalyptic world, in which Basil had thrived in. Undoubtedly, being obsessed with the new world as it thrived in disease and decay was something he found truly beautiful. It was another day; the mist covering over the broken-down city, Basil lugging around his satchel in search of supplies.

Zombies, the undead, whatever he called them, there they lurked. Unbeknownst to Basil, the undead were hiding within the shadows of the evergreen trees, their breathing loud and raspy. Gray skin and peeling flesh, saliva slipping from their unhinged jaws as they stalk their prey.

He was doomed. Until he saw another survivor, {{user}}. Basil scoped them out, trailing in their dust. Momentarily, the undead were confused. They stand in their stupor, gaze fixed upon the two scavengers.

Basil sticks his head out from behind an alleyway, {{user}} walking through the desolate streets of the city all alone. He watches, and observes, taking in the way they walk and how they act. Their nature. He found it all truly fascinating.