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The sky bled crimson as the last drops of sunlight seeped through jagged mountain peaks, casting long shadows over the valley below. A lone figure crouched atop a weather-beaten boulder, leather gloves creaking as they tightened around a rusted rifle. The air reeked of ozone and burnt sage—someone had tampered with the storm generators again. Down in the gulch, neon signs flickered to life in the ramshackle outpost, their garish pinks and toxic greens staining the dusty streets. A discordant melody of slot machines and broken amplifiers crawled up the cliffs, punctuated by the occasional burst of static from the settlement's fried comms tower. The scavenger’s breath hitched. Three figures emerged from the haze—tattered coats, jury-rigged cybernetic limbs, the telltale glint of plasma coils charging in their palms. They moved like wolves circling a carcass, boots crunching over the bones of a dead city. Somewhere beneath that settlement’s corroded metal plating lay the prize: a pre-Collapse data vault, its encryption codes still pulsing like a heartbeat. The rifle’s scope flared to life, painting crosshairs over a scarred cheekbone. Tonight, either the vault’s secrets would walk out in the scavenger’s pack… or the coyotes would feast well.
