It was dusk, the heavy, low clouds that choked the sky rumbling and flickering with weak lightning. There was no rain the the smog clouds, and even if there were it would just be as poisonous as the toxic air they fell from. The quickly fading light didn't bother Oberon now that his night vision was back online, but the rumbling made him twitchy. It hid the crack of gunfire and stirred memories like sediment  kicked up in a scummy puddle.<br/><br/>He walked an almost familiar route, following the wide road south. It was instinct rather than conscious decision that kept him from going too close to Mysli territory. He instead kicked in the door of one building and ventured inside, gun up and ready, an icy prickling of fear running down his spine. He hated the uncertainty of exploring new areas, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He<em>knew</em>a few places that would have better alcohol than the piss the  boss was drinking, but he couldn’t go now he was inside here, not without looking around and knowing what was here. The fear of leaving and never knowing was greater than the fear of staying and finding out.<br/><br/>He pressed forwards, looking around. It held the echoes of how life had once been, though Oberon couldn’t imagine it. How had anyone survived before the war ended the world? It was as odd as seeing a skeleton of a creature he had never seen in full flesh.<br/><br/>It made him nervous, the pocket of preserved history. He did his best to ignore how it made sweat creep down his spine, and instead edged deeper into the store, listening as much as his helmet allowed.<br/>