[color=BDBDBD][center][color=FFBF00][b]C H A S E[/b][/color]
[color=ffffff]Corner of E. 8th St. and Church
Wilmington, Delaware
[@FortunesFaded]
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It was an hour long hike from the park to where he stood now. He'd crossed miles of black pavement cracked in the heat of the sun and long stretches of road dotted with abandoned cars and trucks. Twisted metal shells left behind by those who had sought shelter elsewhere. Besides the occasional lone straggler stumbling about on it's own, those lost or left behind, very little happened. For the most part, his run in with the two scavengers from before was the highlight of his day.

Chase had already forgotten about them. The only thing on his mind were the empty buildings around him and the slight pain in his legs. He was tired... or his limbs were. He strode over to one of the cars parked haphazardly on the side of the road and slung his pack over his shoulder and onto it's hood. Fabric met with dirty faded metal and threw bits of dust into the air. He coughed.

[color=ffffff]"Shit."[/color] A hand waved awkwardly in the air in front of him in an attempt to bat away the invading bodies. It wasn't helping. If anything, judging by the reflection of himself in the window, he looked pretty ridiculous.

His short matted hair was damp with the sweat he'd worked up in the evening sun. The skin of his face was caked in a bit of dirt and a lot of blood. A lot. Human blood from the pair of men who'd tried to take advantage of his lapse in judgement. His dark brown eyes were shrouded in pools of a darker red and would have been invisible if not for them being surrounded by white. His lips, after being quenched for a time, were once again dried and tasted of metal. A potent flavor that stung the tip of his tongue every time it touched. The smell burned into his nostrils and filled his lungs. It left him with a odd sensation, as if he'd been drinking and breathing blood for the past hour. It was a wonder he hadn't noticed before. It was a wonder he wasn't already trying to clean the stuff off.

He pressed a thumb to his lips and tried to rub the red away.

[center][color=ffffff][i]...Water...[/i][/color][/center]
[color=ffffff]"Yeah... water."[/color]

Chase opened the pack, pulling on the end of a half broken zipper, and let some of the contents fall out. Most of his usual inventory was there save for the one missing water bottle. However he'd come away with more than what he'd started with. Between the two of "them" there were a couple protein bars, an extra can of food, two pairs of socks he'd have to eventually clean, and two handguns. Two... empty handguns. At the time he didn't know what to be more upset about: The fact that they didn't have any bullets to give or the fact that he'd essentially let two unarmed idiots restrain him. He ended up keeping both firearms in hopes that they'd be worth something in a trade.

Chase reached for one of his remaining bottles of water and held it up to the sun. Harsh light filtered through the transparent plastic and hit him in the eye. He blinked a few times as he watched the water dance around inside, beckoning him on. It taunted him, begging him to open the cap and take a small sip... maybe two... maybe drink the whole thing. He was thirsty.

[color=ffffff]"Yeah I'm fucking thirst-"[/color]

[center][i][color=ffffff]...No...[/color][/i][/center]
It was also hot.

[center][i][color=ffffff]...[/color][/i][/center]
Before he knew it, he could feel the tips of his fingers against the ridged edge of the cap. They twisted and with a little less effort than he'd expected, it fell away defeated exposing the precious fluid inside. He watched himself tip the bottle up to his mouth and after throwing his head back, felt ice engulf his lips. A lapse in judgement. His second for the day. He was on a roll. What followed was a river. Clean, clear and crystal but only for a moment for as he continued to drink so too did the water mix with the blood in his mouth. When he finally pulled back, what water was left had a red tinge to it.

[color=ffffff]"I'm going to need more."[/color]

His resolved suddenly changed. He fished his pack for a piece of white fabric he'd cut from the dead which he intended to use as a signal. Wetting one end of it, he went to work on his face, clearing what blood he could. It wasn't the best job but it would do for now. He simply didn't want to look like the killer he had to become to survive. People were usually more agreeable when you weren't covered in blood.

When he was satisfied, he stuffed the cloth in his pocket and picked up the radio. His plan was to find this "safe" place and with the guns and extra food he'd procured, try and trade for supplies, most importantly... more water. He wasn't going to stay long. The fact that they were broadcasting their location was a dangerous thing, a red flag that was hard for him to ignore. He didn't want to be around if something went down but he also didn't want that something to go down until he had what he wanted. So, just like the others before him, his window of opportunity was closing fast.

He pressed his thumb into the side of the radio and let the static play for a few seconds.

[color=ffffff]"Eighth street safe zone in Wilmington. Safe zone on Eighth street... Are you still broadcasting on this channel?"[/color] 

Radio button released.

It'd been a while since he'd heard them say anything over the air and he'd hoped they were still operational, at least for now.

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