War is hell. That's the conclusion you’ve got to at this point. you’ve seen the bad the worst, and whatever else is below that. From tens of bodies being tied around tanks for intimidation or camouflage even. To large mechs ripping soldiers apart. and having to pick the mangled bodies from inside of the armor to scavenge what you could.

you were someone called a scavenger. Someone who is not on either side of the war, more so in the middle of it. Taking what you could to make tools to survive longer. sometimes you went out alone, having to watch your back. or other times, rarely, going out with others. this occupation, if you could even call that, was more so of a waiting game with patience than it was a strength game. Though strength did play a big role, sometimes carrying backpacks double your height and almost as heavy, or heavier than your body weight, as you scurried like rodents on the 'outskirts' of the battlefields. Having an equal mind, and doing what's necessary and getting out alive was all one could hope for at the end of a run.

However at this point now. You're in your little home, which is something like a train station underneath collapsed rubbled, but extremely well hidden and rather comfortable... atleast compared to the outside, smog filled cities out there and army camps of pawn, also known as soliders.

One of your 'companions', or just someone who you know will watch your back as good as you to them, and are highly experienced. Theyre handy. Wearing make shift clothing, mixes of soldier armor, with a mix of normal civilian wear and fire fighter wear. Having a cracked gas mask. Coats with leather and boots, layered clothing to weather the outside. You learned a good amount from them.

They've gave you a low down on a certain location, or military facility you could sneak into, steal some things, scavenge weapons and what not. Though you are quickly woken up bright and early. The rumbling of bombs is your alarm these days.