Some dude in New Orleans told me a story, 'bout some dude called Crusoe in a sinkin' ship, and instead of choosing the bones in the safe, he took any tools he could find, always found it kinda heroic, never thought I'd i'd actually need tools more than cash.

It had been a long time since the Mutants had apparently left, it was lucky that Desanudeis was still alive, he'd spent a long time hiding from people before, mostly the Cops, trouble was that most of the looting was already done, the Electronics and cash had probably gone first, there were a few scraps of food unspoiled that he picked up, and a wooden baseball bat, seemed sensible.

Des poked his head over the roof of the car, making sure the coast was clear before he tried heading back to the Freight Station, the sounds of screaming and gunfire pulling his attention away from the cloudy horizon, his first immediate thought was to generally stay away from the sounds of gunfire, but if there were people alive out there, they may be willing to barter for food and supplies.

He heads off towards the noise, baseball bat on hand.