August 1st, 2281
Denver, Colorado
The City of Darwin
Sunrise...
They say that the Denver wasteland never sleeps. That would be an accurate statement. Through all hours of the night, one can hear the sounds of struggle, pain, and of course, dogs. This miasma of noise carries on over to day all the same, though now there are people to hear it. To acknowledge it. To get pissed off about it.
The slowly rising sun cast a canvas of shadows upon the ground in the City of Darwin, blanketing the hard ground in translucent blackness. Though many wastelanders wouldn't be up until later in the day, traders were already coming out of the cities nooks and crannies. The early bird gets the worm, and in Darwin, there was a whole lot of birds, and not a can of worms to speak of. There was no dotor's office, or any established form of commerce at that. If you wanted to survive, you had to scavenge. Unlike some other parts of postwar America, scavenging meant you had to be one mean son of a bitch.
Scavenging has become somethig of a sport in Darwin, in that it is highly competitive, There are stories in the city of people dying for scrap, and killing for wonderglue. Whether or not these are true are up to debate, but by the way people carry themselves around Darwin, one can only assume there is a grain of truth.
To the far west, the Legion was already starting their morning patrols, the officers drilling the recruits... and in the north, Seth was sitting comfortably in his little fortress of solitude. Today was like any other in Denver, and Alton Melvyn felt more then comfortable opening the city gates as he did every other week for the refugees who were tough enough to survive that long 'in between' week of hell, without shelter, and often abiut food.
Darwin can be easily regarded as a personification of Denver itself. It's dirty, filled with self-serving assholes... and only the strong will prosper. So how 'bout you kid? How long will you last..?