<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/b2/Redoveralls.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Bat-R-REE<br/><strong>Status:</strong>On Armored Autocar Escort Patrol<br/><strong>Location:</strong>On his bike; riding towards B37<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>OPEN<br/><hr/>Bat-R-REE was riding his bicycle with purpose when the call came in, jaw set, head down, fingers tensed on the handlebars.  The role of Armored Autocar Escort was an almost sacred calling, an honor few could ascend to.  Admittedly, riders were assigned to the squadron, so not really a calling per se, kind of no choice in the matter, but the important thing was that it was a noble pursuit.  A bike rider would lay down his life in the service of Friend Computer, to protect its armored cars from traitors and commies.  And Bat hated commies.  He hated them so much that sometimes the very color of his own overalls would anger him.  Everyone knew commies liked red.  Even now a banner hung from the crosswalk reading:<em>Better Dead than Red!</em>across the top half.  The lower half was obscured in lengthy parenthetical:<em>(This Does Not Pertain to Red Reflec Overalls, Red Laser Barrels, Red Rubber Balls, Red Tomatoes, Red Rover Red Rover, Red Stop Lights or other Loyal Patriotic Uses of the Color Red.   Full List Posted Outside Commissary.)</em><br/><br/>Bat pulled over to the curb and checked his PDC.  Citizens trooped past with hazy smiles on their faces from their drug-induced stupors.  One paused, staring at the officious majesty of his bike, looking ready to reach out and touch the bell mounted between the handlebars.  Bat leveled his big fist under the gawker’s nose, giving him a good hard look at the well calloused knuckles.  “Back off, creep!”  Blinking in surprise, the man stumbled away, and Bat checked his message.  “Hot dog!” he announced excitedly.  It had finally happened.  He was being called up at last.  And he knew exactly where the nearest B37 Briefing Room was located as the escort convoy passed it every day on their circuit.<br/><br/>Hopping on his bike, Bat slapped the bell -- DING! DING! DING! DING! -- and pedaled vigorously towards his first assignment.  “Clear the road!  One side nobodies!  Troubleshooter coming through!”