Richter was out solo again. He was searching his way through a large building. He wasn’t finding much. It seemed like someone had died of starvation or thirst here because there was a dead body. He picked through it’s remains only to find a few bullets and a pistol. The pistol was in bad condition, not really useful for anything at this point. Richter tossed it aside in disgust. He began carefully combing the place for any supplies at all. Richter was disappointed to find nothing, but he hadn’t expected to. That man died for a reason and it wasn’t because someone killed him.
Richter walked up the stairs to an upper level. He was perusing the boxes of useless junk when he looked out the window. The dusty and arid land looked as desolate as ever through the pane of dirty glass. However, something caught his eye against the light background. A lone figure was making it’s way towards his building. This person looked to be female, but that didn’t make any sense. He had never seen a woman out on her own in the wasteland. Richter scowled in distaste, he didn’t have a good feeling about her being out there. She must have been well armed if she was out on her own; that or she was just stupid.
Richter made the snap decision not to rob her. He had a feeling that such an attempt would either be useless or bad for the both of them. That didn’t keep him from remembering a quote he had hear though. “Speak softly, but carry a big stick,” he breathed as he adjusted the rifle on his back. He made sure that if he needed his weapons then they’d be right where he needed them.
The stairs creaked softly as he walked down them. The doors opened without a sound as he focused his gaze on the lone figure. It was indeed a woman and she was still a short ways off. He flexed his hands as he restrained grabbing his pistol. Something about this woman gave him the chills and his instincts weren’t often wrong.
Richter placed his hands behind his head, as if he was relaxing as he walked towards the woman. Doing this also had a second meaning though. To the experienced eye it showed that he meant no harm and was attempting to show that. His hands were far away from his weapons so it showed that he would trust her if she did him.
~~
Abraxas lived a lonely life. Far more often than not he was alone, no one to talk to. He had holed himself up in a fortified building to protect himself from the outside wasteland. He very rarely ventured out to scavenge for supplies, he had almost everything he needed at his disposal. Occasionally a stranger would pass through. Sometimes they had items to trade for supplies, sometime they just talked for a while. Whatever the strangers case was they never stayed long. Abraxas was always sad to see people leave, it reminded him just how lonely he was.
Metal clinking and mechanical shifts could be heard from within a small room of the building Abraxas called home. He was currently working on fixing an old hunting rifle. It was a bit beat up, but he had the parts to get it working again and he was proud to say that, over time, he had become very good at repairing guns and other necessary items. He would trade the guns and equipment for things that people came through with.
Repairing weapons and relaxing was not the way Abraxas intended to waste his life away though. He was preparing himself to venture out with a group a people. Any group at this point. He needed to get out, no question about that. He couldn’t spend all of his life wasting away in this house. He wanted to get out and live, with other people. If that came at the expense of attempting to survive the wasteland then so be it.
It had been a long time since anyone had passed through though. He might be waiting a while before he got his chance to leave. Abraxas sighed heavily, it was no use fantasizing about what his future held. All he could do now was prepare for that future.
((I did not intend that to be that long. Hmmm I think this has proven to me that I still got it.))
