(http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQFqMN9-Iu5r3tLvCZWNTAhZpAd7A8iXL1okdYCR2sELQW1EJ8b8pPdo39T)<br/><br/>Carter was sitting in a corner of McCready's Bar. His story was typical, all his life he had wanted adventure, and when he was 18 years he left the farming community he had grown up in. Even though the work had made him strong, and he had the necessary survival skills for life in the wastelands, he had been naive. But after almost ten years wandering the wastelands, the naivity had been erased. He had learned not to trust people the hard way.<br/><br/>His weapon of choice was a semi-automatic rifle. He also carried a pistol he had taken from a person who had succumbed to the desert. He didn't have much ammunition for it, so he was considering selling it. For close combat, he had a Bowie knife and brass knuckles.<br/><br/>Carter usually stayed away from places like McCready's, but he now he was looking to make some money. And when you needed money, McCready's was the place to go.