Shin and Spike plodded on down the trail, keeping an eye around their surroundings in case any enemies showed up. Shin wore a battered Pip-Boy on his wrist that looked like it had seen as much shit as its wearer. The screen was cracked diagonally across from the bottom right corner to the top left, the metal tarnished and had what looked like burn marks, which matched a patch of burned skin that peeked out from underneath a sleeve of his hoodie.
He sighed as he paused, removing a simple canvas hat with a couple of bullet casings stuck in a ribbon around the bottom. A freshly painted target rested square on the front of the hat, daring anyone to try and take a shot at him. His only remaining eye was a forest green, and lacking much emotion or youthful brightness. That youthful sparkle was long gone, now. Too many memories to chase it away. His other eye was covered by a black leather patch of his own make, as any patches he salvaged in the wastes were either the wrong size for his head, or just didn't offer enough coverage.
He ran a metal hand through messy blonde hair, a prosthetic that he had obtained years ago, thanks to the same psychotic raider that claimed his eye. The metal squealed from strain. It hadn't been properly oiled or maintained in months, and Shin was starting to feel it. He needed to give it a good tune-up soon, and maybe finally replace the broken glass on his Pip-Boy while he was at it.
A black hoodie concealed a brown denim vest and a sleeveless black shirt underneath, the shirt with a Nuka World logo on it betraying where he'd come from. Green cargo pants bunched into a pair of black boots, both just as worn and tired as their wearer. The pants had holes in spots. He'd need to mend them at some point, whenever that point was.
He paused at a small creek to get a drink. Growing up in the wasteland meant he was adjusted to drinking not-so-pure water, and he had no supplies to build a fire so it would have to suffice. He paused to look at his reflection for a moment. A long, jagged scar across his right cheek, a large burn mark over it. Another burn on the left side of his forehead to match. A few smaller scars littered around, one on his left eyebrow, a couple on his bottom lip, and one on his chin, all old and faded. His nose was bent at an odd angle. He still remembered when his lover broke it. He touched it gingerly, and frowned. Why did he let this shit keep happening?
It didn't matter now, Shin supposed. He was far, far away from Nuka World, or the Commonwealth, or Vegas, or anybody that could possibly know him. He was totally alone in a new territory, save for his sole companion, Spike the Deathclaw. And that was what he needed, he reasoned. He needed to start over.
