Looking around at the rundown, zombified, burnt out Chicago of today, you might not think it-- but it is, in fact, the most wonderful time of the year. In that spirit, cardboard signs have been posted prominently on street lights and buildings in the more frequented parts of town:

Holiday Sock Hop!

Come to the Wasteland for drinks, dancing, and ( Read more... )

There are a couple of really, really crappy things about being shot in the leg.

One of them has to be the boredom (the pain, in this world without many painkillers, shouldn't even have to be mentioned). You can't move, really, although Armand can manage to walk (a bit), and it's driving him insane ( Read more... )

Well, well, will you look at that.

There's a Gwen at the bar.

She's leaning forward on her elbows, watching the people.

She might be humming "Happy birthday to me."

It's darker than he remembers.

This could be partially his own invention, and partially the fact that a good deal of the street lamps no longer work. Slowly, McKinley walks his bicycle down the street, tensing at small noises.

He's not so concerned as he used to be about zombies, but it doesn't pay to throw caution to the wind.

Kay wanders in, wearing an oversized hoodie and carrying her bag.

She doesn't look happy.

It's well past dark when they get back ( Read more... )

Chicago, as it happens, has a history of fires ( Read more... )

Gethyn's dragging a good few lengths of thin copper pipe behind him. It's making terribly bad noise, scraping across the floor, but that's part of the fun, see?

Might as well make an entrance in a new place.

Money doesn't mean all that much, these days. It's not so surprising, when you think about it: You can't eat money. It won't power your car or generator. It is no use whatsoever as a bludgeoning tool against armies of the undead. So if you're looking to get yourself some food or supplies, you'd better not have money; what you need is something to ( Read more... )

Back wall.

Cigarrette.

Feet up on the table.

Russ is a little bit in the doghouse with the Wasteland's owner. (Yeah, hahaha.)

Broody broody broody. Or possibly sulky sulky sulky. Hard to tell in the low light.