A still silence, the clacking of a mask, and the swishing from a vest, jacket, pants. A gas mask sitting under a militia captain's hat too large for his head, blocking the top half of his goggles, a vest wrapped around thick black clothing with an insignia sewn onto the breast pocket. Guns and knives strapped around their waist, their voice sounding as if it were coming from a radio. A rail pistol by his hip, a smaller pistol strapped around his right shoulder, a knife on his left, two other knives wrapped around his leg, and a threxen dagger sitting at his lower back, a bag covering it attached to his outfit by a strap. He lets out a crackling sigh, trudging through the wastes of Brudiadad, a sector on the planet Varmaterar.

The shuffling of his clothes, raspy rough breathing, the sway of his torso as he makes his way through what once was a populated market city. Reaching a hill of rubble, he makes his way up it, standing looking from above at the ground below. Silent winds blowing through empty windows. The man cracks his back before sitting on the hill staring out at the city before him, taking in the sight. The man takes his leather-covered hands, wiping his mask with it.

Two others wearing gas masks and contamination suits appear behind the man, looking down on him with weapons pressed to their chests, a strap wrapped around their shoulders. The man shows the side of his face to let them know he was listening as a raspy voice cracks out from behind a mic. "Scavenger? Raider?"

The man chuckles, "Neither, historian."

"Archaeologist?"

"I don't uncover ancient things, I'm just getting experience by taking in information around me. What about you? Scavenger? Raider?"

"Neither." One of them responds, blowing air out of their nose. "There are Bativattsva in the east so beware."

The man nods, standing up straight. The two others notice the rail pistol at his belt. "A rail pistol?"

"My gun of choice."

"How the hell are you able to use it? Do you have a tier five Mexe suit?"

The man shakes his head, his mask clacking against his hat. "I prefer this type of weapon."

"What the hell...?" The other sighs before tapping his friend on the shoulder. They leave and the man decided to leave as well, heading towards the north of Brudiadad. Abstract brutalist scenery, building running through rugged older buildings, rubble hanging off of rebar metal. Large oversized pipes running into the air, disconnected and broken to the rest of the pipe. Ground raising in odd areas. Walking more and more until the road itself divides, leaving a massive ravine-like hole in the middle, an array of old buildings sitting inside, hanging off of the walls. Small bridges, broken and or still alive connecting to each other, old clothes hangers hanging off the sides of some houses.

The road moves to the underground, dipping into a slope as they run into each other once again. The man follows the road, entering a dark underground marketplace, the only light there is - coming from old stores still running off of the remnants of energy still left in the power grid below the city. Words, signs, flashing wildly, broken, shattered, glass crunching under the man's boots as he makes his way through. Elevators made of thick glass either broken or not there, falling into the abyss below at some point in its lifetime.

A door, words scrawled upon it saying, "Electrical."

The man enters, a staircase leading downward sits in front of him. It does not curve, it only goes down. Almost ten minutes of walking until he finally reached the bottom. A hallway - long, but not long enough to where he couldn't get a small glimpse of what it leads to, he decided to leave speculation for later though. His boots tap against the hard stone floors of the hallway, changing into a creaking metal as he leaves. An electrical grid, a bridge made up of thick copper wiring leading to the other side.

The man rests against the wall of the hallway, staring at the view. Massive plugs encased in metal cages attached to other plugs on top of the ceiling, wiring hanging from massive metal tendrils, rusted suspension bridges coming across the lot of them. The floor below, though encased with darkness, still allowed you to see through the darkness; like an enlarged motherboard, engravings, large metal structures implanted within its surface.

The man licks his dried lips under his mask, taking it off momentarily to take a sip of water, only raising it above the mouth revealing a young round jaw, one side of it having a scar that ran down his neck. He puts the mask back onto his face, pocketing the water flask before standing back up and moving on. The bridge shakes and cracks as he moves across, the sound of rubber stretching loudly occurs each step he takes.

The man takes a deep breath before exhaling, making it across the bridge with a light jog. It was a five-minute walk before he could reach the other side. A door as wide as the bridge and taller than a house sits in front of him. The man pushes at the door - heavy. He pushes it with all of his might, the door flying open after one strong shove. The man sprints inside, the door slamming behind him, dust flying from its shutters, the wind pushing it across the cold hard ground.

The man cracks his neck before continuing, starting his long walk with a joyful skipping, grasping the strap of his bag all the while.

Long grey hallways, windows allowing light to pour in. The man squints his eyes as he looks out the window. A large stone pillar in the middle of an empty... whatever it was. A massive hole separated the pillar and where the man was. He leans out the window some, the part of the building he is in curves inward, surrounding the pillar, other long blackened windows sitting above his. There are other floors...