Drop the hammer, let’s do this.
All I ever did as a kid was take things apart. Speak and Spells, watches, toasters, Ford Fairlanes. It got so my parents started asking me if I could just watch the front of the television like any other kid. It’s not my fault I found things a lot more interesting under the hood. But yessiree, after that Doctorate in Physics from MIT, top of the class, seventeen papers under my belt, I thought I had found my place in life. Like Top Gun you pretty much get to pick where you want to go and I always thought it would be pretty sweet to see Colorado, nice skiing, decent sushi, fine people. Cheyenne Mountain was also working on some of the hottest shit around. Yeah, I couldn’t chat about it at the bar, but they wouldn’t have believed me anyway.
Long story short, I was in the right place when the atoms fell from the sky: not at work. Cheyenne Mountain was Cheyenne Crater within minutes, hell, that place got hit so hard it woke up in the 1820’s. But that didn’t matter to me when I had my '65 Shelby Cobra with a few modifications already under the hood. I swung out for the hinterlands for a few years before finally making my way out to the coast.
Done a few little favors along the way for a few powerful people. Had my share of fuckups too, not gonna lie. But when zombies are knocking at your door, hell dogs are sniffing at your trail, and the cyber scorpions are coming out of their caves, you could do a lot worse than to hear the 427 rolling up to get your ass out of the sling.
I’m right back where I started, taking things apart. Mostly by .50 cal Browning these days. Gets a little hot (been meaning to put some water cooling on that thing…) and sometimes ammo gets scarce, but when you’re scavenging a B-17, well, you’re a damn fool if you don’t take a few things like that home with you to show off to your friends.
I hear there’s a new plan to get off this rock though. Seems like I’ve caused enough trouble around here, might as well raise some hell and solve some problems on another planet or two. Be seeing you around, keep your rear view empty and the road ahead clear.
user: Steampunk Banana
character: Desmond Baltar
vehicle: 1965 Shelby Cobra, hunter green with white stripes
class: Scout of extraordinary panache
favorite possessions: “Wrenches. Gotta’ have my wrenches. And where’s my frickin’ rope? No point going on any trip without rope.”
