In love with a traitor (pewdiepiexcinnamontoastken)

Chapter 1

Ken wiped the sweat from his brow and stared down the long winding dirt path ahead of him. He was bringing some fresh tomatoes into town to sell, and it was high noon, the hottest time of day. He pulled the cart along in his thick soled boots and vest. Kicking through rubble and walking past the occasional body. Those were common nowadays and didn't phase Ken. He had no reason to worry, he and his family were loved and cherished by the town. Most of it at least.
As the sky began to darken Ken grew weary and paranoid. Every rustle sent his hair on end. There were some outlaws who wouldn't mind seeing his head on a platter. His arm grew tired, but he pushed on. His father and the townspeople would be quite upset if he missed a day again. By morning the tomatoes would be wilted and he would have to sell them at half price.
Suddenly, Ken's foot caught on something and he stumbled, and nearly fell. As he looked down to see what it was a small glimmer caught his eye. He grabbed hold of it and pulled it free from the rubble. It was a pistol. Ken had no use for a pistol, but it was nice. Only outlaws and bandits carried weapons without a licence. However, Ken had gotten rather bored with being the perfect nice guy all the time and he was curious, so he slipped it into his satchel and continued on.
When he reached the town it was nearly sundown.
"Shit" he muttered to himself. He would have to stay the night again. Hopefully the coyotes, one of the many local gangs of bandits, had moved on for the night.
Ken settled down at his normal stand in the town square, set up his 10 cent sign, and waited for customers.
And hour and a half and 3 pounds of tomatoes later, Ken retreated to a back alley, and pulled out his sleeping back, he settled onto his bag and tried to get comfortable, but no matter which way he turned it always seemed that there was a sharp rock or some shrapnel in his back. He couldn't imagine living like this. Bouncing from hideout to hideout, always on the run. No family, and losing countless friends and colleagues every day.
"That's the life of a bandit, I suppose" he muttered to himself. Ken didn't have much sympathy for them. They chose that life, he always said, and they could always escape it if they so chose.
Ken was naive.