Out of the frying pan...(OPEN)

Paul loudly revved his Harley-Davidson WLA a final time before cutting the old engine to admire the cool midnight breeze and to take his first glimpse down upon the city,It wasn't impressive from afar, not really,he found the city's appearance somewhat underwhelming, he's scoured pre-war cities 10 times its size, although, they were void of any life other than raiders, 'Ghouls' and strange and deadly predators in which he tasked himself to dispatch and eventually ingest, like a primitive cave dweller, not that they even seemed remotely edible, thats just what he did to survive the cruel and unforgiving world of the wasteland.
He quickly reflected upon the countless meals of what he liked to nickname 'Rad-roaches', with a small grin as he realized that he would never have to eat another, now he can eat food that isn't a mutated insect any other manner of unnatural animals but human food as he witnessed on half-demolished billboards and on decomposing food packaging .
Quickly zoning back into his current condition reflected back onto the cityscape, contradicting his indifferent opinion of the architecture of the city, in which its name was currently unknown to him, was his reaction to the obvious sign of human life, it was the first functioning city Paul had ever laid eyes upon, sure he's passed raider's camps and witnessed the workings of slaver holds in the far corners of the forsaken wasteland, but this was different, this is what he's been searching for,a working town, despite not being able to see anyone in the far off city lights he felt a warm intense glow, not of the toxic radiation in which he had become used to but of a previously never felt emotion a huge tide of excitement.

He began to walk towards the city edge wheeling his vehicle and all his equipment there ,imaging the intricate workings of city life and the beauty of non-aggressive human contact in which he had so craved with a fiery passion in his short, miserable life spent wandering the wastelands .

Soon after that he encroached the edge of outer-slum like region, admiring every insignificant detail of the sleeping city,hoping that someone, or thing could guide him, possibly give him some vague purpose/direction of what to do or even just a scrap of information, for he now had no purpose to guide him , he knew nothing of the living world (just news from flyers or Voxophones containing information of events long came to pass, advertisements for pre-war relics and memorabilia/work of people that are now nothing more than ash and bone)...