Most people which were killed by the environment, only became so unlucky because of their logic on level-3's. Avoid them and don't die was the general rule of thumb. However... being instinctual, one could assume they 'hunt'. So finding life was as a easy as follwoing them around, which actually wasn't all that easy.
The being, seemingly perfectly human, was covered in a thick cloak that covered from boot to hood of almost a leather-esque material. This thick material was clearly not some old-world leather however as it seemed to Ward off the storm as easily as a rain coat does rain. Under the hood was a face, dark-skinned and tanned, with a crown of auburn, bobcut hair and eyesockets that held bright green ebbs. These eyes were covered with small goggles the opaqued Oliver's eyes in a dark green. The goggles allowed sight, and sight allowed the spectacle of some poor soul meeting a couple of level-3's. In Ollie's eyes that person was dead. Give or take fifteen or thirty seconds. Her existence, however, along with her surroundings gave Oliver reason to keep moving though. Shelter, and a good number of Level-3's? She definitely wasn't alone.
With that in mind, Oliver's boot found a home at the decline of the hill and then let gravity take over with a little push. The cloaked figure silently cascaded down the slopped decline and upon reaching the base silently treaded to the side of the house. Then? Then Oliver vanished.
Where Oliver came from, a small, semi-stable community to the west, Ollie's pet name was 'the ghost's and the reasoning came very apparent for that as suddenly the occupents of the house had another number. Oliver slide through the wall, hands raised in some kind of dance imitation upon joining the ranks of Tank, V, Mira, Avo and a... a dying cat.
No words were spoken. The mutants being so close, and all. However, they were greeted by a jonty wave with Oliver's left hand as the right moved into the cloak and pulled out a pistol and pointed it in their general direction.
