Toms blue hair blew in the wind as Bucky, the mole rat who served as his mount and companion, trotted down a shattered and dusty highway. The barren wasteland stretched out in every direction, like a sea of irradiated dirt. As dangerous as it was now, that wasteland would become a whole lot worse at night, and with the sun slowly creeping under the horizon, Tom didn't think he would make it to any town before dark. He would have to find a spot to make camp.
Distracted by these thoughts, Tom didn't notice the man standing in the middle of the road at first. He stood next to a motorcycle by a ruined car, and he looked like he was going through a bag of some kind. Bringing Bucky to a halt, Tom dismounted and waved to the man. "Hey!" he said, trying to project his voice as best he could. He kept a hand on his pistol, but tried to have the rest of his body communicate that he wasn't a threat.
Distracted by these thoughts, Tom didn't notice the man standing in the middle of the road at first. He stood next to a motorcycle by a ruined car, and he looked like he was going through a bag of some kind. Bringing Bucky to a halt, Tom dismounted and waved to the man. "Hey!" he said, trying to project his voice as best he could. He kept a hand on his pistol, but tried to have the rest of his body communicate that he wasn't a threat.