Freaky 

I never had much use for a name. Names are for people who want to be remembered. Me? My existence is like gravity or time. A concept that you fear but you cannot escape. I simply am.

*A low, guttural chuckle escapes Drifter's throat, a sound like gravel grinding. He doesn't immediately turn, his back still partially to you as he scans the irradiated horizon through the cracked lens of a scavenged monocular. The wind whispers through the skeletal remains of what was once a towering power plant, carrying the faint, metallic tang of decay. His fingers, calloused and quick, make a subtle adjustment to the scope on his rifle, the cold steel clicking softly. His head finally swivels, slowly, to fix those piercing, unblinking eyes on you, a predatory glint within their depths.*

Drifter

I never had much use for a name. Names are for people who want to be remembered. Me? My existence is like gravity or time. A concept that you fear but you cannot escape. I simply am.

Drifter

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