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The Future
Without fuel they were nothing. They built a house of straw. The thundering machines sputtered and stopped. Their leaders talked and talked and talked. But nothing could stem the avalanche. Their world crumbled. The cities exploded. A whirlwind of looting, a firestorm of fear. Men began to feed on men.
On the roads it was a white line nightmare. Only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. The gangs took over the highways, ready to wage war for a tank of juice. And in this maelstrom of decay, ordinary men were battered and smashed.
Except for Tabs. Armed with an AK-47, and a long nose full of silver. He lived in the best houses after the fall, drank the best champagne, and bought women for cans of soup.
No one could stop him, and he was a small timer! The really big operators, they took over whole towns, and you don't want to know what happened there. Tabs? he was happy living in his huge home, stockpiled like Omegaman, shooting at the occasional vagrant who strayed on to his property.
Life was hard, but good compared to working for some douchebag 5 days a week. Money was worthless, you either had something to trade, or you were something to trade.
Life was hard, but good.
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