The Shanty smelled, and that made Lee laugh, not because it smelled but because of all the things he could have noticed, the bent nail in his 2X4, the dirty shell in his shorty, or the miniscule crack in his gas mask, but the smell was what he noticed. What did it smell of Lee wondered, Mold? Blood? Desperation? Probably a combination of these. He sat on an ancient looking table and wondered if that Hunter marksman managed to escape, he was a great shooter but, as is the case with everybody else, ammo was scarce. Lee loved melee, it was the original way to do combat, up close and personal. Of course a sawed off never hurt…Lee stopped himself, of course sawed off shotguns hurt people but they were handy.
 Lee pulled himself from his train of thought, his sawed off needed some cleaning. He looked around; the others looked scared, why? He had no idea. Lee threw his Shorty in his bag. Group 47 was nice enough, but not many people had time for a 15 year old brawler, even if he could patch up some nasty wounds with limited supplies. He made his way over to Terrence’s place, Lee would ask what’s going on even though he probably wouldn’t get a straight answer, he never did and it was probably because of his age, but Lee needed something to do, he’s been cleaning his gear to long and it was starting to shine. Lee crawled through the window and hauled ass to the safe house. He wasn’t about to get bored again. Or lonely, he needed a new comrade after his friends walked into that fat bastard, he smelled too...