Alias: Gray
Date of Birth: March 19th, 1970
Height: 5'4"
Age: 25
Epilogue:
Evacuated on his birthday, Rodney found himself on a chopper leaving the chaos of Knox County behind. This new journey led him to Cheyenne City, just like everyone else. Guarded by military personnel, the complex offered a semblance of normalcy that had eluded him for so long. Choosing to live outside, still not fully trusting them enough to live inside, Rodney built a nice cabin beyond the wire, embracing a more independent existence. Ration tickets provided essentials, exchanged within the complex, while bartering thrived in the informal economy beyond. As days passed, Rodney's skills and experiences positioned him as a seasoned survivor. In his newfound tranquility, Rodney honed his hunting skills back to what they used to be, venturing into the surrounding wilderness to make some nice meals for himself. The dense forests became his sanctuary, a stark contrast to the urban chaos he once faced. The urban chaos he hated. The rhythmic crackle of his radio station became a soothing backdrop to a life of relative peace. Rodney's cabin, surrounded by the quiet embrace of nature, became a retreat where he could reflect on his journey that, eventually, brought him here. The adrenaline rush of survival transformed into the steady pulse of a quieter contentment. Whether by the crackling warmth of a campfire or the echoes of his radio broadcasts in the serene woods, Rodney found solace. In this chapter of his life, Rodney embraced the simplicity of routine, far removed from the horrors of the apocalypse for the most part. Rodney's newfound tranquility extended beyond the realms of survival. As he scoured the remnants of a once bustling industrial district in a nearby town, he stumbled upon a hidden treasure. A 1987 Pontiac Firebird Trans-Am GTA, languishing in a forgotten garage. With unwavering determination, Rodney dedicated himself to restoring the sleek, dark red beauty to perfect OEM spec. "Showroom quality," he'd say. And it was damn near close. The process became a labor of love, a nostalgic journey back to a time when the world hadn't succumbed to chaos. The Firebird, now gleaming with the slick dark red hue and silver two-tone paint, became Rodney's pride and joy. The rhythmic hum of its engine echoed through the woods on a quite consistent basis. The once-forgotten car roared back to life, the embodiment of Rodney. Who himself, came back from a cold dead mental-state with just a small touch of love from a friend. Not content with just one vehicular masterpiece, Rodney's restless spirit led him to another gem. This time, a 1992 Chevrolet Corvette ZR1. The king of the hill. The car, a beautiful dark green. As he meticulously worked on each car, Rodney found another source of solace in the mechanical symphony. It kept his mind off what he'd done, and more on what he's doing. In the quiet moments between tinkering with his beloved rides, Rodney occasionally found himself in the company of Katy or Rick. Rick, in particular, held a special place in Rodney's life. An honest to god brother to Rodney. Katy, a dear friend, brought a sense of warmth without encroaching on the solitude Rodney had come to value. Even if he wanted to be alone, she was the only one that could be in the room that wouldn't bother him. She was a good listener, and gave good advice. He'd tell anyone that. Hell, he even told himself a few times. Though, in all truth, he could never truly say why he was so comfortable around her. He never knew. At this point, Rodney's journey had come full circle, the scars of the past now fading into the background over years. As he surveyed the serene surroundings every now and then, a genuine smile graced his weathered face. The once tormented man had found contentment, not in isolation, but in the simplicity of friendship, and of course, his god damn cars.
