Iíve seen things, man. You wouldnít believe what goes on up there. When theyíre coming up over the rise, howling and heat-mad. The Scavengers come itís like the Big Day all over again. Fire and lead and hate cutting the air and you huddled behind whatever barriers youíve patched together from scrap and timber, praying for the world to end. Theyíll wash over you like a tide; leave behind a mess of bodies picked clean and smoldering rubble.
Was a day like that the Resistance found me. Was holding on to those last few inches before being swept away when some girl in an honest-to-God uniform comes blazing through their lines; running two of Ďem down on a four wheeler and then blowing a hole in another like it was righteous. I wouldíve fallen on my knees then and asked her to marry me, but there was still a pile of Scavengers about and more soldiers coming every minute. Figured it was a bad time. After that, it was nothing to me to join up. Be one of the few remaining bits of civilization on this burnt out ball of dust. Maybe take a few of those leather hooded bastards with me too.
Since then itís been nothing but scrabbling through the remains of the world trying to hold on to land and resources while the Scavengers cluster about us like buzzards around a dying man. Theyíre waiting to pick us clean. So we fight and push them back and steal their stuff just as soon as they steal it from us. We bleed each day and then come back to the same stretch of ground, the same battlefields, to do it all again. And again. Iíve seen the ruins of Libby so many times Iím ashamed to admit I just want to smash her the rest of the way. Put that promise to rest like Iíd like to put these bones. Seems sad for her just to lie there while some idiots kill some other idiots over a patch of dirt or can of gas. Itís all a terrible excuse for a war.
It isnít exactly the kind of conflict you can walk away from after a skirmish though. No, you just keep running into the breach waiting for that final bullet to kiss you goodnight. And there are plenty of bullets. So many guns and axes and bats and grenades and rockets that itís hard to pick out of the arsenal. You can run and gun with assault rifles and pistols. Tote submachine and shotguns. Can always loot from any Scavs you shoot too if you run outta ammo. These arenít the only toys either. Plenty of scrapped vehicles cobbled together and running on duct tape and sheet metal. Even got a few helis if youíre lucky, but I wouldnít trust Ďem unless youíve got a very sensitive, very steady hand.
Course, them being left over from the Big Day, or slapped together after, they donít exactly drive like you remember. Most often youíre just gonna crash or drive around like a maniac trying to stay ahead of the accelerator. Still, nice to watch a Scavís face as you plow right over his buddies before dropping him. Be glad too for the extra metal between you and them as youíre crossing those open, lonely spaces. Be wise to remember that about your guns too. They arenít exactly factory spec out here. Sights might be a little wide. Trigger a little too soft. It takes a little getting used to finicky guns if all youíve ever fired are shiny, clean ones.
Trust me; Iíve been out in that rat circus for a while now. It gets so you like it. So you canít stop. Just hold down that trigger and watch the blood pour outta some poor irradiated puke that doesnít know any better. Youíd better kill him too. Itís real easy to get outnumbered out there. I think our commanders need a little bit better troop placement, but soldiers always gotta complain about something. If it ainít the war itís the food. Ainít the food itís our shoes. Ainít our shoesÖwell, itís always our shoes.
Thing is? After catching all these bullets, scraping by again and again. Iím tired. Just doesnít seem much point anymore. Sure, I still get the rush. Get it no matter how many times I stomp over that same stretch of ice or hump up that same hill of scrap. Makes you feel alive to fight. Know thereís another person on the other end of the sights looking at you and getting away after theyíve tried their damnedest, even if it is a Scav. Still a man. Still blood and meat and hate coming after you just like youíre coming after him and whoís it going to be this time?
The fights always fresh that way. Always keeping your heart in your throat and fingers tight to your trigger. Like I said before though, poor excuse for a war.