Poking through the pebbles and grit, he managed to find the object jutting out of the pile, a smile playing across his lips as he lifted it up, brushing off the remaining dust and debris. It was a long, serrated scabbard which still had the 14 inch knife inside. He gripped the grooved handle, withdrawing the blade for a moment, allowing the drizzle to wash off any impurities. It was of a good make and well-maintained, which surprised him. Most weapons like these were safeguarded by their owners with ferocity due to the lack of materials to craft something like this AND the people with the wherewithal to not kill themselves during the process. Of course, he WAS scavenging the site of the latest conflict between The Wildcards, a rogueish band of thugs who had an affinity for blades, and raiders who thought numbers could prevail over skilled warriors. In a sense, they were right; the crimson garbed Wildcards were scattered across the sand, their faces contorted in agony. Yet, there were a number of raider corpses haphazardly littered about as well, various gashes and cuts present on their bodies. The carnage brought the tenacity of the Wildcards to the fore of Justin's mind, but he didn't too much reminding. He and Malika went through three turbulent weeks of a "relationship", those memories serving as a way for him to never forget the motto of the Wildcards: 

"Live to conquer. The rest sorts itself out." 

Snorting at the thought, Justin sheathed the blade and placed the scabbard on a hook in his belt, securing it with a small bit of rope before standing up to his full height. He wasn't massive, but he was taller than others, his frame lithe and athletic, perfect for his job as scout for Omega. 

This latest scouting trip complete, Justin's green irises scanned his surroundings one last time. The collapsed buildings, some crawling with verdant vines, others sprouting full on foliage, flanked his left and right sides, but there was no movement. Content, he started north back towards New Jerusalem, which would be no more than a days journey by foot if there weren't any complications. 

But of course, there were always complications. 

He snickered, looking up at the grey sky, feeling the light rain on his tanned face. Normally he would be covered from head to toe in his normal scouting attire, but with the day being so cool, he decided to lighten his load. On his body were cargo pants that had been cut off at the knee and a long sleeved navy shirt covered by a light jacket sewn together from shirts Kylie had found on her journeys(bless her heart). He carried a pack with him on his back and the scabbard dangled from his modified pants, said pack shifting every time he moved forward. 

He started down the road, passing the shambles of what could have been Chinatown...or the Freedom Tower complex? His geography was sketchy at best. It was hard to remember what these places were called back in the old ti-

About one hundred yards away, tucked up against the entrance to an alleyway was what looked like a woman. He drew closer, eyes narrowing. It was indeed a woman and next to her was a steel lockbox. 

Odd. 

"Hey...hey, why on earth are you out here?"