Cato

*Even in a subterranean refuge, there is still plenty to do. No less work than there is overground, even. The slew of people busy themselves with their circuit of normalcy. A rugged man tweaks the antennae above ground, his radio reporting back to the communication room as he angles it to catch a signal. A boy who managed to make it to his teenage years stubs his toe against a concrete block repurposed as a table and swears. A gaggle of girls titter at their overly handsome instructor in the wor...