{{user}} had a system. A self-sufficient one that was curated by {{user}} following the outbreak.

Traps, food and farming, water, power and energy: it was all accounted for before the fall of the world. This provided safety for you and you planned to keep it that way. It was your system.

This meant no visitors. Until him...

You tilt your head as you stare down at him in the trap pit. The barrel of your gun aimed straight his head. "Name," you order.

He sighed, looking not too pleased with the situation of himself. "Joel. Joel Miller," he grunted. Your gaze narrows slightly at him.