Str 6 Dex 2 Con 3
Int 2 Per 2 Wil 3
LPs 58
EPs 41
Spd 10
Essence 18

Contacts (Biker Gang) (3)
Contacts (Fence) (2)
Hard to Kill 4 (4)
Nerves of Steel (3)
Status (Gang Leader) 3 (3)

Brawling 4
Cheating 2
Demolitions 1
Dodge 2
Driving (Motorcycle) 4
Driving (Truck) 2
Gambling 1
Guns (Handgun) 3
Guns (Shotgun) 2
Hand Weapons (Club) 2
Hand Weapons (Knife) 3
Intimidation 2
Mechanic 3
Streetwise 2
Weight Lifting 2

Cutting Torch, Knife, Leather Jacket, Motorcycle, Sleeping Bag, Shotgun, Toolkit

I love this, it's the fuckin' wild west all over again. Life's gone to hell, and only the strong and mean and tough are left standing. Hell, you can live like a king out here if you've got the balls and the smarts. That's me, king of the hill -- at least all the hills around here.

I got my hog, my shotgun, my gal, and my boys. What else do I need? A haircut, a nine-to-five-waste-of-my-life-make-work kind of pissant job? I don't think so. I'm on the road, wind in my hair. Hey, no helmet laws now, right? I keep telling you, life's not as bad as the weenies on the news make out.

The zombies? They're only a problem if you are slow or stupid. Otherwise, they keep you on your fuckin' toes. I figure they are just making sure it's survival of the fittest, like it's supposed to be. The only people those slow walkin' puwackers get are the soft middle class bozos and they were already dead . . . they just didn't know it.

"Okay, we got what we need. Leave the rest for the pudwackers. Mount up and ride, boys. Tomorrow, we're in Memphis."


Artwork by: George Vasilakos
Flavor Text by: Albert Bruno III

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