Adyr walked the ruined streets slowly, like a tourist out for casual sightseeing. The only thing that broke the illusion was the tactical uniform he wore and the weapons strapped to his body.
The dusty roads, lined with shelters barely worthy of being called homes, were mostly deserted. A few residents were outside, tending to pale, dust-covered vegetables in small garden plots, likely grown in contaminated soil and barely edible, but they too withdrew at the sight of the stranger.
But it wasn't fear of Adyr or his STF appearance that pushed them away. It was something else—like people avoiding potential trouble, not danger. Their eyes didn't show fear.
They showed discomfort. Like they were looking at something cursed.
Adyr logged the behavior in memory and approached the edge of a nearby yard.
