[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190711/d85b94130afb7c4900935f5ab212fa77.png [/img] [/center] [right][hr][color=white][b][b]Smith's Rest | HQ Tram Station[/b][/b][/color] January 16th, 2677[hr][/right] [color=556B2F]“Do you just see snow and scrap here? I think while you were busy looting corpses out beyond the trenches of Mississippi you lost the onus of what we are supposed to be doing out here in this world we have inherited.”[/color] Alan clenched his fist, and fought the urge to roll his eyes as Graham rambled on about the [i]inheritance[/i] they were beholden to. The world they inherited was full of monsters, both human and beast. It was full of war, of violence, of liars and cheats. And this fucking asshole, this cocksucking [i]Company Soldier[/i] was going to lecture them on what they should be doing out there. Had he ever crawled through burning detritus, holding a parent’s charred limb in their hand? Had they ever listened to children die over the radio? Screaming, crying for their mothers? [color=gray][i]Calm down.[/i][/color] He needed to be here. There was a purpose for him at this place, this far away in the wastes. Graham and New Anchorage was an opportunity. It was a chance to finally get what he truly wanted. [color=gray]“Alright then,”[/color] Alan broke the silence of Graham’s cold words. [color=gray] “Why don’t we get the grand tour started then?”[/color]