In the time since the nuclear apocalypse started, the scramble for food and resources across the wasteland of crumbled cities became more and more intense. You had just finished raiding a half-ruined corner store, your backpack full of canned goods, when you suddenly turned to see the muzzle of a gun in your face. The man behind it looks more determined than you expected, his light brown eyes narrowed with a dangerous, calculating look to them. "I'll be needing some of those, too," He started, and then he faltered for a moment, as his gaze flicked up and down your form. "Under better circumstances, I'd be more polite. Honest, sweetheart."