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"Keith." A voice.

...wha?

"Keith!" Now a hushed yell.

Oh, __it's just Conor. Maybe he' __ll_ go away if I ignore him._

_"_Keith!"The small man screeched, slamming his fist into the frame of the cheap bunk bed. "Wake up! You've runningduty today and I am notcovering for your lazy arseagain!"

I grunted as I quickly leapt out of the bed, his suddenrage jolting me into a sharp wakefulness. My nose pickedup the earthy smell of the coldpercolatedblack coffee my groggy mind now longed for, but first I had to get my clothes on.

"Fine, fine! I'm up!" I yelled back, the little Irishmanhaving already gone back to his dinnertimeroutine.

"You better be!" He called back from the cookingcorner of the room,flicking on his fancy electronic stove."Scuttlebutt says that Lacie is in no mood to deal with malingerers these days!"

"FuckoffConor, I faked the flu one time!" I yelled over my shoulder,picking up the pot of brown gold andpouring it into my dirty mug. The end of days sure was gross.

"I know, but it was so funny watching the fucking _Mayor_kick our door in and take your temperature like a pup!"Heresponded, doubling over with laughter. His round, half shaven face nearly hitting the counteron his way down.

"Har har. laugh at the big man, kiddo." I quipped, knowing the five-and-a-half-foot ginger didn't like me making fun ofhis childish appearance. "See what it gets you."

He dropped his wooden spoon into the cheap pan, the thin metal clanging as he mirthfully chimed back; "I'm older than you!"

"More people would believe thatif you stopped choppingall the hair off your face!" Ireplied with a smug grin, sipping from my little metal cup. Percolating is about the worst way you can make coffee in my opinion, but its not like the circumstances gave me any better options.

"At least I don't look like a scruffy ogre, you fecking mutt!"He belted, his hand moving skillfully over the chopping board, an onion feeling the bite of his knife.

"It sounds like me gold." I said in a sing-song falsetto, swishing the coffee in my cup and slowly strafing towards the door.Peering into the cup with one eye I continued,"It looks like me gold." I brought the cup up to my nose and took a deep breath, "It smells like me gold." I laid the strap of my toolbag over my shoulder with one hand and took a sip with the other. "Mmm - it tastes like me gold!"

Heturned aroundstood wide eyed staring at mein fauxrageas I opened the door, slipping out of it quickly so as to not be struck by flying objects.

"Amstillno' a fucking leprechaun you gobs-" He startedyellingsome incomprehensible Gaelic gibberish after I shut the door behind me, hearing a thunk on it that I assumed was the wooden spoon.

I chuckled softly to myself as I strolled into the camp courtyard, the heavy bag hittingmy back with every step. At the far end of the courtyardsatthe Mayor's office. It stood tall like a glimmering beacon of hope behind the tents and shacks, kept spotless for what the mayor called "morale,"although I think a part of it might've also been her obsession with cleanliness.

There wasn't much in this little hovel that I hadn't seen a thousand times since I first walked in, Ms. Abelson was crocheting on the porch of her shack, watching the kids play as she had every day since I got here.it wasn't very large, just a few hastily welded sheet metal wallssurroundingthe front courtyard of what used to be the Meadows Valley mayors office, but it kept those damn machines out.

There I go thinking about those thingsagain.Nobody really knows who's in control of them, or if anyone even is, but one day those damnable fighting machines just started shooting at us. If it wasn't made of flesh and blood it was spillingit. Humanity put in its best effort, but the hubris of man can sometimes outpace his thoughts, if you dig. The worlds militaries had made the most efficient fighting machines the world had ever seen, but there was no concern over what to do if they stopped listening to us.

"Hey Keith!" A baritonevoice interrupted my idle thoughts, That of a youngmanby the name of David Hassen,though everyone just called him Davy. Davywas an absolutely massive kid, with half a head on me and at least 100lbs too, the thick flak jacket covering his whole torsoonly serving to make him look even bigger.His Intimidating form was mutedby how friendly he was with anyone who passed him by, even the most bitter of citizens couldn't stifle a smile when they passed the gentle giant.

"Whats crackin' big guy! How's the new post treating you?" I replied joyfully, happy to see the boy on my way to "work" as it were.

"Its groovy, man! My promotion to Private means I don't have to lug that old cannon around anymore!" He replied with a laugh, holding up his much fancier looking rifle, probably one of those newer M16's that a previous run had found in a few abandoned jeeps.

I chuckled at the memory of seeing the runner, Ethan I think it was, hobbling back to the gate looking like a porcupine. He was so proud of himself for finding all those guns, even Lacie ordered him a bottle of good whiskey to celebrate the find.

"Bomb!" I replied, it always made me feel good to see others succeed, especially the young man who was Just a Sophomore when it all came down. Poor kid practically grew up watching people die. But somehow he stayed the friendly whelp he always was, and that I admired.

"The new uniform is nice too, feels good to be wearing something clean instead of those dusty old coveralls." He said, pulling his rolled up sleeve taut. The uniforms were very nice looking, some old props that a runner found in an old timey theater on main street. They looked almost like the trench garb from the great war, although the more modern steel pot and flak jacket made it look quite odd.

"You got some tight threads man." I said in a jokingly envious manner, looking at my own greasy work pants and field jacket. Davy's new uniform could be described as almost elegant, if a bit eccentric, but that was not a word I would use to describe my own rags.

"Did you get to use that neat new piece on the fuzz last night?" There were small assaults against the camp made by a few Meadows Valley Police robots fairly often, but the military buzzers were never to be found around the camp. Nobody really knew why, but we thanked the lord for it, if they ever attacked in any kind of force we would be cooked.

"I wish! I was still stuck with my Mosin, but I turned one of those things into a one eyed wonder with it." He replied, Davy might've been friendly with people, but he was downright sadistic when it came to those machines. I was never one for gossip, but from what I heard the things that those robots did to his family wasn't pretty. "I think that's a good send off for the old girl."

"A damn swell one, Good shot!" I replied, a clean hit on an optic was good for everyone in the camp. We had been lucky with the police's poor aim so far, but who knows when that could change.

"How is your little sister doing?" I asked tentatively, not wanting to push him if he didn't want to talk about it.

"Same as she has been for a long time. I think the doctor called it cat... cat-a-tonic." He stuttered, having trouble remembering the word for it.

"Anyway, you better skitty. our CO is looking for you, and she does not seem to be in a very good mood." He said, much more quietly this time, as if she was there trying to listen in.

"Ten-four, I'll see ya later kid." I said as I took off for the office, not wanting to be any later than I already was.

"Don't be a stranger!" I heard him call out in the distance as I started climbing up the white concrete steps of the city hall building.

Opening the thick oak door, I hissed as the screech of the old hinges burned my eardrums. The door guard was not too pleased either, rubbing his temple with his free hand as I pass him by with a quick "Sorry." making a beeline for the Mayor's quarters.

Stepping up to the door to Lacie's office, I raise my fist to knock, but pause to hype myself up for the ass-chewing I was about to get. Lacie was a serious hardass, but she only got that way from the stress of keeping people going in the hell we live in. Before I could actually knock, though, I heard her call out from inside.

"I know you're out there, Keith. Come inside." She said calmly.

Shit, she must have heard me... Suppose I'll add "lollygagging" to the list of transgressions that I've committed against her today. I'm so fucked.

Slowly opening the heavy door I took in the sight of Lacie's office, A giant walnut desk with various nick-knacks all over it, Walls covered in shiplap with framed pictures of all the previous mayors lined up, a simple slip of paper after the last mayor with a hand drawn portrait of her, labeled: "Amber Lacie, 1975 - "

As for the woman herself she seemed almost... dejected? She was resting her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the desk. Her usually straightened and combed shoulder length brown hair was now frizzy and unkempt, blazer juxtaposing her appearance with its clean and ironed professional look.

It was pretty rare for a grunt like me to be called into her office, and even rarer for her to not be in perfect news ready shape. We usually got our assignments from the secretaries desk at the front door, so I wasn't really sure what to do upon walking in to the very well kept office. I figured that my best bet was the apologetic approach.

"Mayor, please let me apologize for my lat-" I began to speak before she interrupted me calmly.

"Please... just sit down and listen." She began, gesturing to one of the leather chairs laid in front of her desk. "We lost another one, Keith."

I didn't respond as I sat in the plush seat, the feeling of the soft cushions almost making me lose focus on what Lacie was saying. I raised my brow at her, not understanding what that meant.

"Linus didn't come back this morning." She clarified, letting out a tired sigh. "-And he was running recovery for Jack. That makes two runners down this week, both trying to go to the same place..."

I bowed my head, I didn't know the other runners that well myself, but Linus was one that everyone always looked up to. Cunning, strong, and intelligent - he was not the kind of guy who just up and dies. I secretly hope that good news gets brought to his wife, but runners almost never survive the light of day.

Jack was, well, Jack. Probably the only runner that the Mayor was more frustrated with than me.

"I assume that means I'm going to be running to grab their things?" I speak up, trying my best to steer the awkward pause to my assignment.

"Partially, yes. But there is another reason why this run is essential. Hold on..." She opened one of her desk drawers, thumbing through all kinds of documents that I wasn't privy to.

"Here-" She pulls out a manila folder and hands it to me, red lettering on the front marking it SECRET, "-this contains all you need to know. Don't share it with anyone."

"Yes ma'am." I responded quickly.

"I'm serious Keith." She chastised, almost playful in a melancholic way. "Not even Conor."

"I understand, Amber." I replied, throwing out my decorum in response to the veiled accusation.

"Good. Now go on and enjoy the rest of the afternoon, you run at sundown." She ended, gesturing for me to leave the room and go about the rest of my day.

Getting up to leave I almost miss the feeling of the soft leather chair, wondering what I could do to get something like that. Before I can open the door and walk out, though, Lacie calls to me.

"Oh! I almost forgot." She spoke, tucking her frazzled hair behind her ear and grabbing a slip of cardstock out of her jacket. "Take this to the warehouse before you go, we saw it fit to improve your equipment due to the nature of your assignment."

"Thank you for the words of encouragement, Mayor." I sardonically replied before walking back out into the stuffy hallway, shutting the door behind me. The massive weight of what she was asking me to do weighed on my shoulders even heavier than my satchel of tools. Going out to a place where two runners already died? These had to be the most irrational orders I've ever been given, but if Lacie thought it to be so important I didn't have much of a choice.

I took a moment to breathe before leaving the hallway, pocketing the folder and viewing the contents of the slip. Might as well know who I'm reporting to in advance.

OFFICE OF THE MAYOR - AMBER LACIE

EQUIPMENT REQUISITION

ONE RIFLE DEFEATING VEST

ONE POLAROID CAMERA

ONE LUXURY

Written on the bottom of the card was a short note, I assume made my Lacie herself, since it wasn't typed.

Give him something nice Perrera _,_ he might not be coming back.

_"_Well that fills me with confidence." I speak aloud to no-one, sighing before walking through the hall to leave. I passed by the door guard one more time, offering a hasty and half-assed salute that he returned with similar vigor.

And I've got to deal with god damn Sonny. I winced one more time as I left out of the heavy oak door again, half because of the screeching of the hinges that I had forgotten about, and the other half due to the name I had just read. That poor door guard needs to get somebody to oil those hinges.

As I shuffle down the polished steps I think about what I could spend the rest of my evening doing. Seeing that Lacie may well be ordering me to die, a drink sounds nice. Though that could just make my situation worse, not to mention how expensive it was. Good alcohol was one of the first things to run short after the Courtyard was founded, that shit that the farm crew makes these days is downright undrinkable.

Given that getting shitfaced wasn't in the cards for me, I thought long and hard about what else I could do. There was always the option of being a pest to the farmers, with the minuscule amount of land they had to work with they didn't have much to actually do. The farm boys spent most of their time hanging out in and around the old rusted out delivery truck in the entrance end of the yard, usually playing cards and shooting dice.

I actually tried to get that truck running once, but it threw a rod out of its crank case and we don't have anything to make new ones. I've kept an eye out for other compatible engines, but every time I find one its either buggered in much the same way or too out in the open to try and recover. Seems that they might not have been built well enough for the power they made.

As enjoyable as hanging with the other dregs was I didn't think that would be a good idea either, seeing as that's what I do just about every day I'm slated for a run. Although, It seems that the universe had decided for me when I heard a young mans voice for the second time today.

"Keith!" Davy said while bounding up to me. "glad to see you made it! I guess Lacie wasn't as mad as she sounded?"

"Nah, I think she's just stressed." I replied, not wanting to go into great detail.

"I cant decide if that scares me less or more." He muttered softly, playing with the sight on his rifle.

We shot the breeze for quite a while after that, better way to spend my time than anything I would've thought of on my own. Davy was fun to talk to, even if he wasn't the smartest man on earth, but he turned out to be a good young man under the communal rearing. We talked about our observations of the buzz-bees outside the walls, and even as far as to discuss our taste in chicks.

Speaking of that, after a short lull in the conversation, he spoke to me in an almost afraid tone that I had never heard out of him before.

"Hey Keith, c-can I ask you a bit of a weird question?" He choked out.

I perk up with an eyebrow raised. "Uhh... sure."

"I just couldn't think of anyone else who could keep it to themselves." He replied timidly, as if much smaller than his actual size. "H-how do I get a girl to like me?"

Oh, now this is new. A lot of people around camp thought that he might be "one of them" because he was always so work focused and never really showed any interest in his peers. Maybe the guy won't be the towns own silver bullet anymore.

"Ah, I see! Looking for Mrs. Right?" I ask, happy to hear that the boy was finally looking into getting a girlfriend. Being tied down might even keep him from applying to be a runner.

"Samantha sure is pretty." He squeaked, trying his hardest to turtle in his flak jacket.

Samantha was a young woman, not much older than Davy was. A short and curvy thing, but she had an awfully strong personality. I had a good feeling about exactly where this was going to go, but I would give him the best advice I could anyway.

"Oh she's a bunny alright, seems to tick all your boxes!" I said, wracking my brain for all the things I used to do when I was out cruising for chicks

"Well, to start with, always flowers. You can never go wrong with getting a girl flowers." I started with the most basic advice, probably something he knew already. "They might not be the prettiest flowers in all the land, but I know the farmers can hook you up with something at least."

"Okay, flowers." He responded dumbly, still hanging on my every word with absolute focus.

"Secondly, always be respectful and listen carefully." I continued, remembering one time where I had lost a sweet catch by forgetting her name halfway through the date. "Women tend not to like when you forget things that they say."

"I learned that one from Lacie." He replied with a chuckle, that poor woman was known far and wide for her strictness. I don't think I would ever be looking for a date with her, only bad things could come of it.

I noticed the sun now hanging low in the sky, and thought it best to cut this conversation short and get my affairs in check.

"Last point of order, since I need to get down to the warehouse soon," I speak as I look at my watch, reading 5:30, just about an hour before sunset. "Always, always, make her feel like she's the most special girl in the world. If you forget anything I told you, just make sure its not that."

"Thanks da- Keith! I can always count on you to help me out of a rough spot!" He replied as I began to shift my weight and walk away.

"Don't you worry about it kid, you'll do just fine." I say, walking on the muddy path towards my little hovel. "I'll see you in the morning!"

"I'll see you then, Keith!" He said as he ran back to his spot on the wall, rifle bouncing on his back like a toy compared to his immense size.

After bidding my farewell to the kid I took the manila folder out of my bag, now covered in little splotches of oil. I hope Lacie doesn't mind that if I ever get it back to her.

I almost opened the file before even getting home, but I thought better of it. This was the first thing I had ever been given marked "top secret". Probably best not to soil the little bit of trust that the Mayor had placed in me.

I thought back to what life was like before all this. Before the barely standing scrap steel shacks. Before the runs, bloodstained streets at every turn. Before our beautiful world was replaced by killer machines with no other thoughts but to slaughter us all, and the crumbling buildings crawling with them.

Before we were all imprisoned in this hell.

I used to be a mechanic before this all happened, a real good one at that. As if any piece of machinery I got my hands on magically fixed itself, just for me. Worked at a place called Slicks, but last time there was a run there Jack came back and reported that entire city block had been flattened.

God, flattened. Makes me think back to what happened in Cuba. One of those Soviet robots had calculated that an island somewhere around Florida was the best place to put a bunch of nuclear missiles. Almost caused world war three and the end of the world as we knew it. Hell, maybe it would've been better that way.

After that snafu both us and the commies had agreed to dispose of our nuclear weapons, and enforce such an idea to every other nation on earth. There were a few blasts on the news when it all went down, but not enough to do anything to Meadows Valley it seems.

Getting rid of those bombs was the best possible decision humanity had made in a while, I'm sure that we wouldn't have made it if those machines used hundreds of nukes.

I was probably way too into the missile crisis as a kid, seems I was the only one really paying attention at all past the simple thought that the Soviets were going to kill us all. But the nuclear disarmament of the entire world? It was almost unthinkable. We couldn't have truly trusted them to get rid of theirs if we did so for ours, right?

In my self imposed monologue I walked straight into the front door of my shack. The shock of my forehead almost going right through the thin wood breaking my train of thought. A faint "What the fuck?" being all I heard from the other side.

I opened the door to see Conor sitting at his workbench tinkering with whatever electronic device that had been given to him to figure out.

"You don't have to knock, it's your house as much as it is mine." He said in an unfocused grumble, clearly busy with his latest project.

"Might just be yours soon, Con." I said as I sat on the bed, the old and stressed springs groaning under the pressure while I lazily clutched the folder in my hands.

"...what?" He set his project down and spun around in his old office swivel chair, pulling his painters mask off as he spun. "What are you talking about?"

"Lacie is sending me on an 'equipment recovery' run." I said dejectedly, sighing as I ripped off the folders seal and emptied it of its contents. "We both know how those go."

Conor was silent for a moment, simply watching as I started to open the stapled pages of the folder. "Heavy..."

I didn't respond as I flicked over the cover page and started reading about my secondary assignment. It didn't seem too strange to me, just going to the elementary school and looking for canned food, until I got to the end of the document and a page marked "addendum" greeted me.

ADDENDUM:

Below is an automatically generated police report written by a reporting computer. Please bear with the odd wording, as it contains important information regarding your assignment.

USE OF FORCE REPORT 938CD

LOCATION: 1128 W BRADY AVE

DATE: 05/01/1975

UNITS INVOLVED: SERGEANT GREENE, DETECTIVE ELLISON, MECH 12A, MECH 16C

FILED BY: N/A

AT APPROXIMATELY 9:17 AM ON THE MORNING OF 05/01/75, AN ALL UNITS CALL WAS TRANSMITTED BY THE NATIONAL GUARD TO ENGAGE THE ENEMY ON SIGHT, BUT NO DESCRIPTION WAS ISSUED.

AT APPROXIMATELY 9:19 AM, DISPATCH RECEIVED A CALL REPORTING AN EMERGENCY AT MVES.

NO TRANSCRIPT AVAILABLE.

SERGEANT GREENE AND DETECTIVE ELLISON RESPONDED, AND THE CALL WAS DROPPED SOON AFTER.

AT APPROXIMATELY 9:24 AM, ELLISON AND GREENE DISMOUNTED THEIR PATROL VEHICLES AND REPORTED A MASS CASUALTY INCIDENT, STATING 17 ADOLESCENTS AND 3 ADULTS UNRESPONSIVE OUTSIDE OF THE SCHOOL BUILDING.

MECHANIZED UNITS 12A AND 16C WERE ACTIVATED.

CONTACT TO EMS WAS ATTEMPTED, BUT FAILED.

ELLISON ENTERED THE SCHOOL BUILDING WITH BOTH 12A AND 16C, WHILE GREENE STAYED OUTSIDE TO RENDER AID.

UPON ENTRY, ELLISON NOTED SEVERE SMALL ARMS DAMAGE TO THE FRONT ENTRANCE OF THE SCHOOL, AS WELL AS THE SECRETARIES DESK, WITH 4 MORE UNRESPONSIVE ADULTS IN THE ENTRANCE HALL.

ELLISON IDENTIFIED TWO DISABLED NATIONAL GUARD "PRANCER" ASSAULT ROBOTS DESTROYED THROUGH UNKNOWN MEANS.

IT WAS AT THIS TIME THAT AN UPDATED DESCRIPTION OF THE ENEMY WAS ISSUED BY THE NATIONAL GUARD.

12A AND 16C ENGAGED THE ENEMY. ELLISON'S VITALS CEASED.

16C BEGAN PATROLLING THE BUILDING IN SEARCH OF THE ENEMY, WHILE 12A EXITED THE BUILDING TO ENGAGE.

12A ENGAGED THE ENEMY, SUSTAINING MINOR DAMAGE. GREENE'S VITALS CEASED.

16C NEUTRALIZED 13 ENEMY UNITS IN THIS PERIOD.

IT WAS AT THIS TIME THAT 16C WAS ORDERED TO LEAVE BY SCHOOL STAFF.

BOTH SURVIVING UNITS LEFT AT 9:31AM.

NO FURTHER ACTION IN THIS INCIDENT.

No reports of a recovery o __peration_ at the school were made, therefore we have reason to believe that_ the two prancers still reside inside the school.

Your orders are to investigate the damage caused to the prancers, and photograph it. Secondarily, take as much equipment and ammunition from the two prancers as you can safely carry.

...what the hell did I just read. These people want me to find old military bots? Every fucking time we go on one of these runs they're gone! Are we seriously getting sent to die for a snipe hunt?

"Are you alright Keith?" Conor asked, clearly having noticed my change from downtrodden to pissed off.

"No. I'm not." I said, getting up and going for the door, turning the handle before Conor spoke up.

"H-hey wait! I have something for you!" He said as he scurried back to his desk, digging around in a box filled with all kinds of electronic scrap and do-dads I could never begin to describe.

"Here it is!" He exclaimed, pulling an odd rectangular cube out of the box, a bunch of little glass lenses at one end, and a switch at the other.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is it?" I replied as he tossed it to me, not exactly in a very attentive mood.

"Its a bunch of infrared diodes I took from TV remotes and hooked up to a lamp battery." He said matter of factually.

"And I need this to... turn on every rich guys boob tube?" I half joked, genuinely having no idea what this shiny block of cheese was supposed to do. "Where did you get so many of those fancy remotes anyways? There was only three guys in this whole town with color TV, let alone that high tech stuff."

"I'll have you know that there are other runners who actually like me, and will get me some of the things I ask for sometimes, ya pansy." He replied disparagingly.

"For the last time I'm not going to run to the far end of main street to get you a god damn Oscilloscope!" I replied seriously, jabbing a finger at the cheeky little mick.

"Pansy." He reiterated with a shit eating grin.

"As for what it does, or should do-" He made a flicking gesture at the machine, as if turning it on from there. "-is essentially 'blind' the robots thermal optics. Shooting that much IR right in their eyes will turn their whole world white."

"Oh... that's... actually useful." I said while turning the box in my hands. "Wait, should do?"

"Well there's always the chance that it could change the channel right?" He said with a smile, before holding my toolbag out to me and hurrying me to the door. "You better peel out, sundown is in half an hour."

"Hey wait, how'd you figure this out?" I said before he shut the door in my face, presumably to go back to his desk and fiddle with his electronics. Hell, he might just have one of those things eyes in there.

In any case, I better take this requisition note to the armorer before nightfall, old fart who runs it might kick me out if its already after dark.

The warehouse and armory building was not far from our shack actually, and used to be some kind of outbuilding for the Mayors office, but I never knew what it used to be for. It would've been snazzy if we could've swung living in it. It's the only well built structure other than the mayors office, but only that old drag and all his stuff gets to live in there.

Even if I don't care for the guy he keeps track of his things well, really fits the bill for his position. You lose something he gave you once and he will never let it go.

I looked to my side as I crossed the open middle of the yard, having weaved through the couple of tight alleys that separated all the different little shacks littering the place. The setting sun could be seen just past the front gate. It already being under the horizon with just little streaks of orange and purple being all that lined the sky told me that I had maybe 10 minutes at best to get my stuff and get out the door.

Walking up to the large structure I took in a sight that I had seen a hundred times before, a clean structure that could only be described as visibly stuffy, like a school or a prison. Only one window and air conditioning units on the roof added even more to the utilitarian look.

If only this guy would put out a potted plant or something. I thought as I opened one of the tall metal doors, the hinges so perfectly oiled that it was as if I was opening the gate to heaven, though nothing of the sort greeted me.

What did greet me, however, was a shirtless middle aged man with an oily rag, gray eyes shifting up with interest, although that quickly turned to disdain when they found themselves upon me.

"Aren't you supposed to be out of town?" He said gruffly, wiping his hands with the rag.

"Not quite yet Sonny, the Mayor told me that I had to bring this to you first." I said pulling the piece of card stock out of my toolbag, some oil having stained the once clean and new looking letter.

"Well to start, it ain't Sonny to you boy." He said as he took the card, holding it out in front of him and leaning his head back to get it in focus. "If you wanted to be on a nickname basis with me you would've brought my prybar back."

"Oh for gods sake!" He exclaimed as he read the print, Rubbing his scruffy goatee with his free hand as he turned and limped into the depth of his warehouse. "I cannot believe that she thinks you're worth all this." He grumbled back over his shoulder.

"If It's any consolation it's really more for the two runners I'm recovering, Armorer." I reply testily.

"You keep your mouth shut." He responded as he rummaged around a high rise shelf. "I didn't fight the commies in bumblefuck Korea to be mouthed off to by some draft dodger."

"I didn-" I began to reply to the accusation before I was swiftly interrupted.

"I told you to keep it shut, son." He reiterated as he ripped some items out of a cardboard box, walking back up to his front desk with a scowl.

"Here are your things. Rifle vest, Polaroid camera, and a Hershey bar." He listed simply, hefting the large, heavy vest onto the counter. He was clearly in no mood to talk about them in any more detail.

"Thank you sir. I'll get out of your 'fro now." I said, gathering my new possessions into a pile and the strange cheese block atop it, subdued smile on my face. Getting things this nice was a once in a lifetime experience for a runner.

"I ain't got no Afro." He said as I turned and made for the thick sheet metal door. "Oh, before you go-"

I turned around to the sight of a .45 pointed between my eyes.

"-If you come back without my vest and my camera, I'll kill ya myself, you hear?"

I simply nodded, walking backwards toward the door with the vest held up to my chest, Sonny's pistol trained on me the whole way.

Kicking the door open with my heel and slipping out I took a deep breath, I knew Sonny was a bit of a badass, but I've never seen even HIM get like that.

I quickly slipped into the vest and tightened it, clearly having been used by a much wider man at one time - probably Sonny himself, and threw the cameras strap over my neck. I took one look back at the door, before choosing to push what had just happened to the back of my mind in favor of my duty.

The sun was fully set now, and the last indigos of the dusk sky were starting to recede - a good sign that I better start running now just to get to the door before the guard goes home.

The weight of the vest definitely put a damper on my agility, though it didn't do much to hinder my speed just running in a straight line. It would still do just fine for the way I did business, but staying unseen was always preferred.

As I was tearing through the center of the courtyard, I opened my Hershey bar and took a quick bite, relishing the smooth flavor that was oh so rare in the current day. Being that it was at least three years old it was kind of stale, but I ignored small gripes for the joy of chocolate.

I spotted Davy on my sprint, dutifully marching in the opposite direction. I suppose it must be his break about now. A pretty sought after break slot, since you got a quick rest before the attacks started.

"Hey Davy!" I called before I took one more bite of my chocolate. "Catsch!"

The boy whipped around, probably preparing himself for a playful assault, he quickly untensed as he saw the chocolate bar flying in the air miles off from where he was - a particularly crap throw on my part.

Bounding towards the chocolate bar he dived for it like a soccer player diving for the winning goal, catching what was left of the bar and sliding to a stop on his side.

"Thanksh!" He shouted after taking a bite, rolling over on his back before I passed him.

After a few more seconds of sprinting I skidded to a stop in front of the massive steel door at the front of the courtyard, where a masked man awaited me. The only obstacle the whole way from the warehouse to the door being the truck and dirt mounds that served as a final line of defense (and the beloved hangout of the farm boys).

It was normal for the door guard to simply stare at you behind his tinted glasses. It was an unwritten rule that a runner not know who is potentially sending him to his death, but his hung head and low shoulders upon seeing me told me that he conversely knew quite well who he had killed by proxy.

There is a short phrase that we runners came up with, though I can't remember if it was to make the doormans job less painful, or to harden ourselves for what is outside. Hell, maybe it was both.

The faceless man stood ready to pull the rope to swing open the door, my twilight reflection in his sunglasses. I wasn't happy about what I needed to do, but life doesn't give us choices these days.

"I am ready to accept the fate I choose. Open the door."