[i] I've given it a lot of thought- how I feel about this place, that is. This Buried City, this broken monument to the former glory of mankind. Its wretched stench, piercing even my advanced respiration systems, makes me nauseous. The dilapidated skyline is pathetic. It is complimented well by the tattered remains of society, including rusted cars, debris, and broken housing environments, which pepper the view at street level. Until you reach the Dunes of Metropolis, that is. Massive deposits of sand, collected against the buildings still grasping for the heavens, hide half the landscape, showing only the battered tops of the previous existence below. A pitiful sight to behold. These deposits slowly grow and regularly release particles back into the air, choking any hope for survival without proper filtration apparatus. They also provide the benefit of casting a sickly orange glow on the region, as the sun's unrelenting rays carve paths to the scorching hot surface. It is only by understanding how utterly miserable this place is that I remember why I came here: like most others, to scavenge like a rat. Digging into the Dunes of Metropolis and ransacking the Station for leftover supplies is commonplace. The occasional exchange of pleasantries, or lethal discharges of ammunition, still take place. The latter is happening right now, in fact. The towering skyline provides me a point of reference, as I weave from broken buildings into a debris dump bordering the base of the Dunes. Rising from cover, forcing my opponent to face the blazing sun, I fire a single round. The familiar hiss of a punctured oxygen tank blesses my ears. Taking in the sounds of a windpipe deprived of clean oxygen, I resume my stroll across this Buried City, which I love [b]so much[/b].[/i]