((Ravyn punted me from the bench. I'll make you proud, coach.))<br/><br/>Hesitating, and as starved as she was, the rat finally made the fatal mistake of moving a few little steps closer to the stale, crumbly speck of bread on the floor. She expirated one last time, audibly inside her gas mask, and released her grip on the bolt and tense string.<br/><br/>Shoved close to the dirty brick wall at the end of an alleyway, a rat was spitroasted over a mangled half of a barrel. She had risen clutter and cardboard to cover the light the fire gave off, as much as possible, and was currently going over her gas mask, checking the filters. The fire burnt most of the bad stuff in the air, and breathing a mixture of air and smoke was a relief compared to dense fogs out there. Crouched, sitting on her heels, she started eating, her gaze scanning the entrance to the alleyway every minute or so.<br/><br/>Alexis incorporated all the routines of her new life rather quickly, when making a mistake, more often than not, it proved to be deadly. Not to her, maybe out of sheer luck, but to the people that she was with. The people she cared about. She walked alone now, and knew that that meant she had no more room for mistake. She had long accepted that the world wasn't going to change back, and that the people involved either are too weak and desperate to do anything, or too powerful and in control to even consider rebuilding civilization. She was going to die sooner or later, and the only question was how. She hadn't decided if she wanted to go out pierced by a multitude of bullets, in a final stand somewhere in some abandoned warehouse, or clutching two grenades while looking that son of a bitch dead in the eye in his office somewhere in the "settled" areas. A bullet to the head in the middle of the night, or a fall of a crumbling, cracked building wasn't as glorious as what she had in mind, but so much more likely.<br/><br/>Collecting her meager equipment, Alexis put out the flame with some sand, taking care to bury the rat's bones in it. She didn't like to leave tracks. She'd taken a habit to travel at night, when the air was cooler, and most bandits asleep. Checking her corners - under the misted, heavily dark clouded sky, occasionally flashing thunder and seconds later reverberating thunderclap across the cluttered streets - Alexis made her way towards the Dens. She had found something useful for the right people. She couldn't use it, but she could definitely use the payment she'd be asking for it. The Dens attracted the worst and most desperate people - not to mention scum, and villainy - but it also attracted money.<br/><br/><div class="ToggleTriggerAnchor bbCodeSpoilerContainer">
<button class="button bbCodeSpoilerButton ToggleTrigger Tooltip JsOnly" data-target="&gt; .SpoilerTarget" type="button"><span>Spoiler</span></button>
<div class="SpoilerTarget bbCodeSpoilerText"><img alt="[​IMG]" class="bbCodeImage LbImage" data-url="http://wiki.parpg.net/images/4/4d/Guard-1.png" src="http://wiki.parpg.net/images/4/4d/Guard-1.png" style=""/></div>
</div><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>