[u][b]Carter, just outside the city, a standard walk in lands unknown[/b][/u] Howling winds were replied with loud screeches and animalistic howls in the endless abyssal red fog, in the distance a loud thunderstrike would emit a loud CRACK as the skies- now seen thanks to the sudden thunder -lit up...but only for a brief moment. To stare above would be a a endless dark blanket of grey and red, not to dissimilar to that of the endless corpses that have degenerated into grey muck, landscape littered with pools of desecrated flesh and bone that bubbled with acidic and otherworldly chemicals that'd be lethal to touch. Bones, both white and covered in fresh red meat, that cracked under the weight of hefty boots. His pace was moderate- fast as he could go but slow enough not to make any more noise. The cracking of bones, twigs and the crushing of glass while impacting sheets of metal would be heard, the landscape littered with all manner of wreckages both recognizable and not. It wasn't like all things seemed completely alien, he could make out understandable things through the broken wreckages, the steering wheels of ancient cars, the flickering lights and upright skeletons as if dying on the spot. Perhaps they saw something incomprehensible that eviscerated their consciousness, leaving them a starving meat husk to die. Maybe these skeletons had a story, one he couldn't see, bullet holes and cracked ribs...or maybe they didn't make any sense at all and simply laid there like a decoration. He didn't want to know why. Carter rubbed the gasmask's visor, two holes around the eyes with fogged up and scratched glass. He'd then hastily place the hand under the gun's barrel, raising it and walking forth. Each step was an awkward, unsure and hesitant one, as if every inch of land ahead was covered in sharp objects or lacking ground to firmly stand on. He'd listen, waiting for the uneasy and nauseating screech of some unknown creature, the stock of the gun against his shoulder as he waited to raise it and fire into the unending fog, then preparing to run in a hasty and cowardly manner away from whatever made the noise. But the howling never came. So he kept his pace, continuing his delicate and stressed out walk, tense, fearful, pupils darting back and forth constantly as he tried to see both through his mask and the fog that surrounded him. It was a quiet day today. Too quiet.