Four Seasons of the Apocalypse


Nursing a bloody, torn up right arm, Wizard made his way into the infirmary. Since the melt, the ruins to the north had finally opened up. The combination of shifting ice and burrowing animals had torn open some new scavenging hot-spots. However, the competition was fierce. Some of the guys from the Warren decided to pop out of their stinking hole for once, and they liked to shoot first and ask questions later. Additionally, the damn razor-ravens had started to pair up, and they had a penchant grab the shiniest tech to build their big ass nests.

He had hoped to have a productive spring before the summer heat drove the various warlords to violence, but he'd be out a few weeks while his arm healed. If things got tight, his plan of last resort to help out Glasgow and her rot worshiping, dead leaf wearing, pumpkin spice obsessed cult. He hated those damn zealots more than anything, but Glasgow always made time to give him some extra "attention" on top of the normal pay.

Either way, his current predicament was fixing his arm, and there were about five other scavengers in the waiting room sporting various wildlife related wounds. The felt bad for the girl who had a severed giant crab claw gripping her leg, but his number one rule was to help himself before helping others. As the infirmary's owner stepped into the waiting room to start working on the next customer, the gears in Wizard's brain started working out a way to get himself to the front of the line...