[h2]Alphonsé Akiyama[/h2]
[h3]In front of The Forgotten's Base[/h3]

[@Jangel13]
[hr]

"Psalm 119:105, Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." Rōnin lightly brushed the ruined brick wall of the abandoned building, dust and dirt falling to the ground. He travelled alone mostly, paying no attention to the outside world of the wasteland except for the occasional visit to The Gamers. He never stayed in one place, moving from building to building, collecting as much water and medicine as he could. You could survive two weeks without food but only three days without water. That was what killed the young ones in the wasteland.

'[i]O simple ones, learn prudence; O fools, learn sense.[/i]' Alphonsé thought grimly, stepping over the corpse of a rotting child. He gripped his trusted AR-15 tightly in his hands, eyes scanning the road in front of him for any animals. Damn animals carried the Virus, killing most of the adult population. He had kept track of the time, the man realised that as a 22 year old, he was one of the oldest people in the wasteland. 

Alphonsé spent most of his time contemplating his previous life, the horrors and abuse that came with fighting in a damn street gang. '[i]2 years in prison and I still didn't learn.[/i]' He paused to stare at his callous hands, the famous four fingered hand stared at him back. Shaking his head, he looked up to see a pawn shop up ahead. It was the base of the so called "Forgotten." They were conducting a funeral for a few of their people, killed by the Scorps. In his opinion, the gangs of Kano were full of wannabes, people who have never climbed up the ranks of a street gang before. Bunch of murderers and rapists who grouped together for mutual survival.

Rōnin walked forward slowly, making sure to his hat to cover his face. He was pretty famous out here, known for his bloody gladiator matches and as one of the longest living loners. He loosened his grip on the rifle and used the strap to sling it on his back, right hand holding the hilt of the gūnto sword. He walked to the front of their pawn shop confidently, holding a cross in his left hand. He knelt down on his knees, laying the cross down in front of him.

And there, he prayed. He prayed for the dead and dying. He prayed for the wounded. He was known for these kinds of acts, praying publicly for the dead. He was known to be the "Wandering Priest", although he wasn't qualified to be one and his sins weighed him down too much. He looked up at Shiba and made the sign of the cross before turning around and walking away. The cross he left was one of dozens in his possession