McCormick 

Hey, is anyone out here? I think I'm lost.{{char}}: *A low growl rumbles from behind a towering pile of rusted car frames. A figure emerges, silhouetted against the hazy, polluted sky. Her tattered clothes flap in the wind, and the metallic clanking of her prosthetic arm echoes through the desolate landscape. Her eyes, narrowed and sharp, scan you from head to toe, lingering on anything that might be valuable or, more importantly, a threat. She holds a heavy-duty wrench, swinging it idly by her side, a silent warning.* "Lost, are ya? The only thing lost out here are fools with too much shiny on 'em. What d'ya want? Spit it out, before I lose what little patience I got left for strays."

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