Bloody hand prints littered the walls of the now ruined building, long hallways had doors numbers on both sides that led into ruined housing after ruined housing, no food, little supplies, worthless. Rat shit littered the rotting carpets filling the already toxic smelling air with an almost touchable stink.<br/><br/>Every room had to be checked. Dante thought to himself as he worked on the second last room. Finding nothing he looked at the very last one, a old decrepit lock long broken held the door still in place like a old man still protecting the tribe he grew up in. One swift kick and the flimsy wood shatters inwards, showering the large rodent on the other side.<br/><br/>It hissed and threw itself at the man on the other side of the door frame. Grabbing its muzzle shut and stabbing upwards with his blade the threat was gone. He moved into the room and found what he was looking for. On the other side of the low-light room was a large water cooling unit, long since broken down and rusted. Inside the liquid still remained, and he filled his water skin, along with every bottle he had on him.<br/><br/>Three water filter barrels, the kind you'd find in a prewar office were laying on the rusted metal, he emptied one and marked this location on his map, and put the road map back in his rough sack. Smiling Dante left the building walking back out into the blinding light, when his eyes adjusted, the wasteland opened around him, weirdly grown trees few and far between. Sand covered the ground blowing over the dry dirt and the cracked  pavement leading out of a broken city. He started walking in the opposite direction of the massive structures and cannibalistic tribes inside.<br/><br/><br/><br/>It had been less than a year since Dante had left his tribe. They had not left on good terms, and he doubted they would take him back. He wandered the wastes looking for another tribes to put his skills to use. Hesitant to do so however, for good reason, He had seen some foot prints in the distance and had tracked them this way. Detouring when he saw the building in the distance hidden by trees.<br/><br/>He was a tall man standing at five foot ten inches. He had strong arms and tanned brown skin. He hand long tied back hair, the hair would normally go down to the middle of his back, but is now tied back into a pony tail by a chain that had once been a necklace. His outfit it a tattered over coat duster, covering the bullet proof vest he wears under. It would stop a hand gun, and hold a knife from killing him. Not fully bullet proof however. Or knife proof for that matter, Anything bigger was still something to be worried about.<br/><br/>Carrying only two weapons, one it a dull combat knife, mostly for a scare tactic, as it had a broken part in its blade making it look like it had a hook on it. No one would want to be cut by that. Two a farming sickle he had strapped to his waist. The blade was spotless steel, the blade was curved and long, about as long as his forearm, it could easily cut off a head if enough force was put behind it.<br/><br/>Dante's tribe was one that had learned to break down metals from the old world and use metallurgy as a craft, they made simple things, walls out of crude sheets, reform broken knifes, repair damaged metal that could not be melted down. In a world where no one could teach them how to really work with steel, it was more trial and error. Dante's brother however took a instant love to the work, He was one who made him this sickle. His name was still engraved into the hilt. Benet.<br/><br/>The people in the city had treated him nice when he first entered, He had seen the buildings as he traveled aimlessly through the slightly wooded desert, they gave him food, water, told him about the animals in the area. It was all going fine, until they tied him up while he slept, and put him in a cage to watch while they continued to roast their other captive over a large bonfire.<br/><br/>Weaponless he only lived since they put his cage next to a tub of oil that used to light torches around the surrounding area and in their homes. He kicked it over, spilling the oil into the fair, the following unstoppable fire scattered the tribal monsters of people. He took whatever food he could, a rough sack that had not been burnt, and took his sickle from a burning corpse. He moved on.<br/><br/>Dante fingered the hilt and waited behind a tree looking at the foot prints on the ground, leading off into the distance, far away from the city. Time to head out again. Maybe I'll make my way back? He wondered to himself and kept walking through the baron wasteland dust rolling in the slight wind while the heat burst down onto him.<br/><br/>He followed the prints into a wooded area and waited, not thinking, keeping his breath low, and figured he was either far ahead of the person he was following, or had gone in the complete wrong direction.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>