[h1][color=darkred]Zin[/color][/h1]
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Zin surveyed the remnants of the City of New York from atop one of the tallest structures remaining. It was little more than the frame of a once great building that had been filled with ash from the nuclear fallout. Zin lay flat on his belly on one of the steel girders, his black clothing doing a decent job of blending him in with the ashen metal. He had his sniper rifle before him, he didn't foresee firing it today but he was using the telescopic sight to peer over the city. He heard gunshots and jumped slightly in shock, his brain scrambling as he shifted to find the source. Finally, he realized that the sound was coming from too far away to be directed at him. He exhaled in relief, but kept wary, his muscles tense.

More gunshots rang out. The city was unnaturally busy this morning. There were firefights almost every day, but there were far more than usual this particular morning. Probably new people straggling into the city. People came from all over the east coast, expecting to find something in New York City. As if it's pre-war immensity, financial dominance, and power meant there would be something here. A safe haven, an underground food cache. One and all, they were disappointed. There was nothing. Zin knew. New York had been one of the heaviest targets during the war, nuclear missiles rained on it constantly. Almost everything was destroyed. Mere alleys and rooms survived. What little resources made it through had been scavenged in the first few years of the fallout. There was almost nothing left now. Nothing. Nothing but Zin.

He survived it all. Moving like a cockroach from place to place, finding shelter, scavenging food, stealing weapons and...yes, killing when he had too. Zin turned, rolling off the girder with grace. His rifle finding it's way into the holster on his back. He pulled out a knife, holding it in his right hand. He always kept at least one weapon in hand, the city was too dangerous to go without. He had a sense of where the firefights had occurred, luckily none were too close to him. They were all at least a fifteen minute walk. But if fights had occurred, it was probably over some resource or another. Food or weapons, most commonly. Zin was in need of more of both. He started walking.