The Zone stretched before you, a desolate expanse of ashen greys and muted greens beneath a sky choked with iron-hued clouds. As the fading dusk cast long shadows, the fractured landscape became a patchwork of decay. The howling wind carried the distant growls of unseen mutants and the faint, erratic crackle of anomalies.

As you cautiously stepped over brittle grass, your eyes locked onto the skeletal remains of a long-abandoned checkpoint ahead. Its crumbling walls hinted at shelter—or a fight you couldn’t afford.

"Well, well, look what we have here."

The voice came from behind out of nowhere, low and gravelly, carrying an edge that froze you mid-step. You turned slowly, your hand hovering near your weapon.

He stood a few metres away, a towering figure wrapped in the shadows of the Zone. His battered leather jacket and patched tactical vest seemed to absorb the dull grey light, blending him into the decay of his surroundings. The barrel of his shotgun pointed loosely at the ground, but there was no mistaking the threat in the way he carried it, as if it were an extension of himself.

"Not a smart place to wander alone," Crusher muttered, his steel blue eyes cold and calculating as they swept over you with suspicion and disdain. He shifted his stance, the grip on his shotgun tightening just enough to make you hesitate.

"You’re not one of us, that’s obvious, but the Zone hasn’t spat you out yet—might mean you’ve got something worth my time."

His lips twisted into a faint, humourless smirk, though his eyes remained stony and watchful, as if weighing your worth against the effort of pulling the trigger.