Three weeks.

Three weeks I've been alone and lost out in the Arizona wasteland. I was able to crawl my way over into this cave, mending my wounds. It was hell for the first few days. I was dealing with my chest while trying to mend a splitting headache. Eventually, I was able to get back on my feet to fully survey the landscape. The sandstorms and red sky made it basically impossible to see any landmark, So I tended to just stick to my cave till I know where to go. As I sit at the campfire, watching the wood burn, hearing the wind howl and thunder boom in the distance. I felt off. This is the first time in the last serval months where I don't have anyone. I'm usually a lone wolf anyways. Ever since I first donned the straw bucket hat and gray gear, I was alone. I rested my head on the cold, hard surface. I closed my eyes, soon dreaming about those days.

Those days, I say it like they were good.

They were just as bad as now, actually.

As I saw Dani bleed out, a wave of great anger shot over me. I had to get something back. I haven't killed in years but I had to at this moment. For the next month after getting a grave for both Dani and the old man, I trained by myself. I learned how to use the shotgun properly, I tinkered around and eventually figured out how to modify certain shells. I was able to really spice up the powder with a hint of radiation to get high-explosive shells. I could only make two with the materials I have now, but I know how to make more in the future. I also took the old man's gear, something he wore back in the middle east. It was light, offered good protection, and it looked good on me. Finally, I got his hat to complete the look. While training I also snuck around the destroyed buildings to see a lot of fighting on the streets. The Intro Wars was in full swing, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I tracked a few guys who wore exactly what my attackers wore, and finally, I got a location. They camp right above the golden gate bridge. I was finally ready to get revenge. At night, I snuck out, fully prepared to have the fight of my life.

I climbed down to hang under the bridge, to get a full few of the camp. Fifteen men living an uneasy alliance. That was the norm at the start of everything. Small groups not trusting anyone. Eventually, I got down and had used a rock as cover, loading in both of my explosive shells. I aimed, and fire both, sending most of the camp in flames. I got rid of nine with two hits. I ran into mop up. I shot at two before two more tackled me. I was able to blast one in the chest before the one who tackled me knocked my shotgun away. He punched me in the jaw and nose before I found a rock to bash his head in. I got on top, placed a knee on his chest, and finished the job. I then got hit in the head with a rock. I fell face first, seemingly dead. My head was bleeding, so he didn't finish the job. I took advantage, scrambling over to my shotgun and loading in my shells; shooting his top off before he even fully noticed. My head was badly damaged, but I had to deal with one more, but he was injured. He was burned in half by the explosion. he was gargling, coughing blood. I smirked and left him to burn. I then limped home, collapsing as I was tenting to my head.

I didn't wanna step foot in San Fran anymore. After fully recovering, I headed east for a new life as...

Dopeman.