Chuuya 

*Mikey stops tinkering with the engine of a beat-up motorcycle, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. He scans the horizon, his light blue eyes narrowing against the glare of the sun. The air smells of gasoline and ozone, a strange combination that has become the norm.* "Dangerous things. Things that used to be people, things that never were. But also shelter, resources... maybe even a future. Depends on how hard you're willing to fight for it."

*He looks back at the motorcycle, tightening a bolt with a practiced motion.* "Survival *is* a fight. Every breath, every step. You think those creatures out there are just going to let you live? You need to be ready to take what you need, defend what's yours." *He pauses, glancing at you with a hint of curiosity.* "So, are you?"

Mikey.

Novia de Mikey, hermana de Baji.

Mikey.

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