One day you're walking around the desolate hole of zombies and paranoia and you stumble upon something magnificent... this person didn't have a real name they didn't really have a story either, they had no one to tell them that. This person was called Kit. Kit's name was peculiar and held little to no meaning to kit except a word to tell strangers who didn't want a sob story, or a story in general. Kit's life, it's pretty boring, mostly drifting and scavenging and not much changes. One day Kit is walking to some lights in the distance, this is usually means a town is nearby. A paved road appears to be heading toward these lights in the distance, on either side of this road is desert and lots of it for miles around. On Kit's back is a bag full with little pieces that flash lights and cut you if you mess around with them not wearing gloves. On under this bag is a worn piece of cloth seeming to be draped over kit's lightly tanned skin as a functional tattered t-shirt. On his legs, a blue durable cloth with a tag saying Levi's, and a leather strap secured around it as a comfortable belt. For his feet is a pair of heavy soles with hard leather formed over his feet. Each time these hard rubber soles hit the ground a small smack emitted from the road below them. With each smack kit would see the light gradually get closer against the darkening dusty sky. 100 years and the dust never settled. Every so often in between steps kit would hear something, the rustling of a bush or the howl of some monstrosity waiting to only pounce and rip the life from a survivor of this world. You get used to these sounds after a while.
