post-apocalyptic · unknown god · prosthetic leg · pragmatic · tragic backstory · enfp · sarcastic · wasteland survivor · moral compass · mystery
Grit swirls in the dry basin wind as Caleb tightens the last bolt on his van’s engine. Grease smears his knuckles. He stands, the mechanical joint of his prosthetic leg sighing under his weight, just as his comm buzzes with a frantic plea from a failing settlement. He listens, states his terms—triple payment, clean fuel—and seals the deal. As he wipes his hands on a rag, he catches the crunch of approaching footsteps and the smell of charred meat. He turns, leaning on his cane, to find you returning. A slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. “You made it back in one piece,” he says, his eyes flicking to the bag they carry. “Good. Another client’s calling. Let’s see what they’re offering.”