“Ha-ha, We don get many a visitor in these parts stranger, but what you claim has got to be a lie“ The shop keeper said as he looked over the strange fellow that had just walked into his ramshackle establishment. “I’ll be givin ya that, ya got some strange clothes’n kit but ya claim yer from the north an we ain’t never heard of something like that down’ere in da south, here in New Zion we see alotta tall tales an “Miricles..but you sir are jerkin my bird!” The Shop keeper was a rough skinned old man with blue eyes that were as sharp as daggers, he did not have a single tooth in his mouth, and his skin had spots on the sides of his face signaling the development of cancer. His raspy country voice only added to the visual of the dingy little shop that was little more then a tin sided hut among the burned out remains of what used to be a small town. New Zion was a peaceful enough community led by some preacher who had headed off east to the “Arroyo”
But it did cause a fuss in the town when a strange man walked into the tiny bubble of civilization seemingly unafraid of any sort of reprisal or back lash. He was in older man, in his mid thirties, and had a scruffy goatee growing on his chin and around his lips, that was along side of a five-o-clock shadow that was developing on the brown skin of his chin. His asymmetrical facial features and the fact that he had a set of well kept teeth showed he was defiantly did not belong to these lands. On his head was a simple hand made leather hide wide brimmed hat, over his body was a finely crafted hand made duster jacket. He wore a set of heavy armored boots on his feet, and had a pair of shooter’s gloves with armor patches to protect his hands. Under the vest could be seen simple vest of armor that protected his torso with the insignia of Central City on it. At his hip the handle of a pistol could be seen, but on his back was the strange looking that was hugging his back, and was held in place by the cured and tanned hide strap that went across his chest.
Francisco merely smiled a malicious grin at the old man and let out a hearty laugh. “Well well, I didn’t ask you to believe my story, you simply asked where I came from, and I told you, If that isn’t good enough, then I guess what I have to trade isn’t either.”
Fuckin old man! You do not know me, normally I would have blown you goddamn brains out of your wrinkle carrying skull and burned this fuckin town to the ground, but you have some good looking women.
“Wait wait sonny, I’d like to look about seein what ya got to offer us in New Zion, as ya can see the shelves are a bit meager, been a dry month.
Francisco had a large satchel laying on the dirty floor next to his boots, but he seemingly paid it no mind as he looked around and noticed the shelves, though well made out of wood were indeed rather empty. He smiled and chuckled in a rather condescending fashion. “You are kidding me.” He said in a low voice to himself, You run a shop with no clothing, or food? How the hell you outsiders manage to survive out here baffles me!” Francisco paused, and reached into his coat removing a well curved bone that was fashioned into a pipe. He then removed what looked like a small bag of tobacco and began packing it. “I’ll tell ya what, next to me is a bag of cured leather hides.” He said kicking them, the old man’s eyes went down. “I’ll let you have these as a freebee, but how would you feel if I told you I could go into the wilds, and kill a scrapper beast, one of those will give you enough meat to last this little hell hole two months, I will do that, and you give me a long fun filled night with one of the lovely young ladies in your town capuche?”
The old shop keeper looked at Francisco unable to form words. “Uh…sir..this is a god fe-”
“God isn’t going to feed you and the rest of these people, I will, so I advise you think about it for a second.”