The Sun was high in the sky, not that anyone would be able to tell. The skies were blanketed with thick layers of black clouds, green lightning striking out like angry vipers. Thunder echoed on the winds as the green bolts stuck out and attempted to find prey of any form. The land was torn and burnt, the heat of nuclear and atomic war had taken it's tolls.
A lone figure could be seen walking old interstate route 90. The highway had long since been elevated and a second deck added. He currently walked the lower deck as to avoid the irradiated rainfall from the radiation storm above. His rifle was currently in his hands, close to his chest in a resting position and a long barreled revolver rested in a holster at his waist. A large dirty green rucksack was on his back and seemed to be packed tightly.
The man walked in a staccato rhythm, keeping pace to the beat of the songs that played over his helmets comm systems. He wore a long green leather trench coat that faded to brown towards the tail and had pockets on the biceps and chest. His shoulders were covered by green composite armor. He wore a high-collar green armored vest to protect his chest that was crisscrossed by a bandoleer of ammunition and another that had several pockets. His wrists were covered in the same green armor, his hands covered in dark leather gloves that were reinforced with small plates on the back of his hand and fingers. His pants were dark brown bdu's that had cargo pockets, the legs tucked into armored boots that came to his knees. The boots were a mixture of leather and armor that protected his knees, shins and feet. His helmet was a military green with a faded white E surrounded by stars on the side.
His face was covered by a built in gas mask with two hoses going to a filtration pack on the back of his mask. The mask had red lenses, a night vision system built in that would make the red lenses glow in low-light areas. The gas mask filtered all the air he breathed and the helmet helped seal his body from the exposure of the radioactive wasteland. It also had a communications system built in that had a small antenna that rose from a large mass of electronics and armor that covered his right ear.
He looked down at the faithful companion he held. The rifle had been with him so very long. He had long since lost count of the days since the fall of the bombs. He knew he should be dead, yet he still lived and roamed the wastes, the rifle in his hands were a great part of his survival.
The rifle was special, not only in a sentimental sense, because it was of a limited number of high powered anti-material rifles. His rifle fired a .50 caliber round, capable of piercing armor up to two inches thick with a maximum range of 2300 metres. It was his baby, his special companion that had saved his life more times than he could count. He had long since gotten used to carrying it and it's heavy ammunition. It was worth the weight to have the extra effective range and firepower.
He had been walking for Gods knew how long. His legs ached and burned, yet he kept marching. He had made a promise to himself that he would keep going. He had to keep fighting his fight and keep marching on. He didn't know why, he just knew that he had to. He had to find his purpose in life...he could let his past be his only accomplishments...
The skies had cleared a few klicks back and the fog had finally left him. The sky was shining brightly down on him. The lower deck of the highway had fallen or crumbled away, so he was forced to walk the upper deck. The Sun was beating down upon him, trying it's best to make him submit, but he had long since gotten used to the heat.
The highway stretched long into the distance and he was curious as to how far it truly went. He shouldered his rifle and peered through the highpowered scope. Using the scope he scanned the horizon for anything that might indicate civilization or at the very least life. It didn't take him long to spot something.
In the far distance several tall towers loomed. He redirected his rifle to the roadway and was able to barely make out a sign in the distance. The words were faded, but he could make sense of the white block letters. He was outside the once glorious city of Boston.