Dead... and Back is a survival horror Role Playing Game. The Anarchy Zones is its official setting - aliens, reanimates, and the ruins of 2055 America.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Caravan Master

Quinn looked like he was sewn together from old leather and scrap metal. His face showed a dozen deep scars, mostly on the same side as the clicking cybernetic replacement arm, which managed to look rusty and dull despite being made out of nigh impossible to corrode metal oxides and ceramics. If there was any further scarring, it was hidden under a pair of work overalls and tactical vest, every one of the dozen pockets bulging with something or other. Metal fingers drummed on the table as he waited for the beer to arrive.

Joey was about the same size as Quinn - which is to say, large - but didn't seem to exert the same air of confidence and menace. Rather timid in nature, he probably never would, unless a close range grenade changed his disposition and complexion - as one had for his new boss.

   "Joesph - describe a type two for me."
   "What - I'm sorry sir?"
   "Describe a type two reanimate. I want to be sure you've got a good eye before we take you out."
   "Of course, course. They're the ones that look sick. Not just unkempt, but downright mangy - lost hair, lost skin, oozing sores. They stagger when they walk, tend to be more hunched over - unlike the others that keep in a straight line."
   "Good. How do you tell an EVANS from an Eisenhower?"
"Eisenhower - that is the power armor - right? Kind of space suit thing - fishbowl helmet with visor, big flat squared off chest, arms and legs look a bit too short for human proportion, but its overall about seven feet tall. I don't think I know what an EVANS is."
   "You don't really know what an Eisenhower is either. Close, but all wrong on the head. Even if you can't tell the size of a PA, always look at the head. The MacArthur - big round head, a sensor dome really - its above the pilot. Eisenhower looks like an old fire-helmet, kind of peaked, a bill running down the back to protect the neck. EVANS looks like an old sthalhelm."
   "Don't apologize! Its not like you run into these things every day. Its just a good idea to know what your dealing with, because on the rare occasion you do come across one, something important is happening."
   "So, what is an EVANS?"
   "Short answer, stealth power-armor. Its all angular, with some odd spikes that redirect radios or act as antennas or something, and a big cape that helps hide its heat signature. The damn thing looks like something out of an old anime really - the evil wizard's signature armor."
   "How did something like that get built?"
   "You're asking the wrong person. All I do know is if that waitress doesn't hurry up..."
   "You mean the one behind you?"
   "Damn it!"

The blond lady put down two mugs of warm ale on the table, and a loaf of fresh bread. Fancy establishment - most just had a front counter and a person calling numbers. Given the need for workers elsewhere, the service industry had be rather hard hit as of late.
   "That reminds me kid, this is a rather weird place. Not many stores let you shop yourself anymore. Its always a keeper behind the counter looking through shelves and finding the order, no sense in letting people try to pull a fast one."
   "McGinty takes it as a matter of pride that citizens can see for themselves the community stocks, rather than have one person take up the book keeping. The fact that we hanged his predecessor for altering the books might also have something to do with it."
   "Could've sworn the past tense was hung, but the neck is snapped all the same."
   "Well, lets turn this quiz away from language to more practical matters. What can you tell me about the types of multi-fuel vehicles available..."

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