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Server time (UTC): 2023-09-28 02:04

Eddie Reid [Open Frequency]


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**Eddie picks up the radio hanging from the dead security guards chest, he licks his thumb and rubs it over the scuffed screen. 


Dead battery.  

He peels back the rubber cover and flicks open the battery compartment. 

The battery and contacts are corroded but still in decent order. 

He pulls out the old cell and blows into the compartment, taking his cuff in his forefinger and thumb rubbing the white corrosion from the contacts. 


He snaps a replacement in and checks the screen again, bingo. 


He studies the small screen for a moment before bringing the mic up to his mouth.**



'This is Eddie Reid, I'm taking a chance here on the open frequency. 

I don't know what possessed me to come back here, it just seems like there's nowhere else to go. 


I can tell you, where I've been it's all a damn sight worse. At least the air is clean here and the dead are few and far between. 


Anyway, I'm gonna be hanging my hat here for a while, I don't expect many that I knew before will still be alive breathing, but if you are maybe you'll get this.

*Moaning can be heard in the background, getting louder* Fuck, hold on, hold on. * a gun cocks and fires*


Well, the day is getting on and I've got to get moving. I'll be keeping this thing on for as long as I can, you never know. 


Right then, once more into the fucking breach, 


-Eddie out.'

**He turns the radio onto power saving mode and clips it to his belt, throws his rucksack over his shoulder and steps out of the checkpoint door.**

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  • Emerald

*Frost jury rigs his radio to a make-shift antenna* "Captain, of all the things you've done and could have done, you should've stayed dead." *Frost then waits patiently.*

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*Frost jury rigs his radio to a make-shift antenna* "Captain, of all the things you've done and could have done, you should've stayed dead." *Frost then waits patiently.*

*Reid stops dead in his tracks, hearing the voice emanating from the radio clipped to his hip. He grabs the walkie and clicks the transmission button*

'Frost? Jesus, I didn't bet on hearing that voice. I'm not dead, although I've felt like it more than once. Is it really that bad out there? I had no idea.

Anyway, I'm gonna be bunking down around our old stomping ground for a while, if you're still fighting the good fight, I'll be there.

-Reid out.'

*He clips the radio back to his side, uttering 'Jesus, I can't believe it, well... they were tough lads after all'*

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  • Emerald

*Frost thumbs the PTT on his radio* 

"Captain, to be blunt. Shit hitting the fan would be the least of it, and I stopped fighting. . .At least for now. Found myself a little hole to crawl into and relax." 

*Frost looks up towards the sky from his current rooftop position.* 

"It's good to hear you're still kickin', but don't expect reinforcements any time soon. I'll be hanging around this radio though, so talk if you need it."

 *Frost places his radio back down and resumes watching the surrounding area of his perch through binoculars.*

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Peering through his binoculars, Dan would observe a rather active camp of people from a distance, absentmindedly chewing on a couple of wild berries that Coyote had pointed out a day or two before. 

He heard Frost's voice boom through the usual static of his radio. However, it seemed he was adressing someone else, not one of the small group that remained.

Lowering his binoculars, he'd rummage through the pocket on his vest to take out the small device and ask Frost just who he was talking to, only to hear a equally static-y, but all too familiar voice answer for him.

At first too confused to answer, he'd hear Frost reply to the voice, confirmed that he in fact wasn't just hallucinating. Slightly trembling fingers would find the transmit button after the radio went quiet once more.

"You don't get to pull that on me. You don't get to disappear twice an' just expect me to come hollerin' back."

Taking a deep breath, he'd attempt to not let his emotions get the best of him, may it be anger or the slight spark of hopefulness.

"But Frost's right. There ain't nothing really worth fightin' for anymore. The good folks died when the NFC did, those few still tryin' to fight for good get killed faster than some fellar sayin' he's a cannibal."

Another deep breath, a moment of silence before he'd finish up his message to the captain returned from the dead.

"I ain't coming back up there, but if you're... really back, come down to the Sobor area. I'll contact you on the old frequency so we can talk."

He'd lower his radio again, spotting some movement on the road. Seems like the doctors had sent another patrol out into the surrounding woods. Making ready to move, he'd quickly press down on the transmit button once more. 

"Because you owe me a explanation, Reid. Hammerson out."

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Coyote turned the dial on the radio sitting in the passenger seat of his offroader, the voice-like static feeling like sandpaper against his mind. He stared blankly down the hillside road, eyes fixated ahead as he passed a clearing to his left. For a brief moment the static grew louder, clearer, and barely became a voice. 

"...the Good Fight..."

The back of his head itched with familiarity and the Coyote spiraled from his temple, the hallucination grinning wide as it curled around the jury-rigged radio. It's cold, sharp eyes fell on him and drew his attention. Slowly, its mouth drew apart and spelled out what was being recognized far back in his mind, its voice rough and mocking. 

'...Eddie Reid.'

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks and his mind felt like it had come to a halt. The hatchback lurched as it hit a loose rock in the road, and everything seemed to blur together. Next thing he knew his chest slammed into the wheel and knocked the air of of him. The damaged car horn let out a sound that was more akin to a dying groan than a honk. He was angled down and all he could see was grass, rocks, and a horribly misshapen hood. He blinked, trying to soak up everything that had happened. 

Eddie was back again, his car was ruined in a ditch, and his chest burned.

It took a couple seconds longer for him to realize his lungs were still empty, and he gasped for air, the gas mask only allowing the air in so fast. The anxiety grew and his chest began to heave. He tried the door but it was stuck. Kicking at the windshield wasn't doing the job, and a few elbows smacks to the window next to him only served to hurt and frustrate him more. Finally, at a loss, he drew his sidearm from his vest and fired a round at the windshield, the tight space and .45 caliber round made for what sounded like a terse explosions, and his head throbbed.

Disoriented, he grabbed the AKS from the passenger side and chucked it at the now-spider webbed window. The glass shattered as the carbine passed through, and Coyote crawled out after it. He dropped down to the grass, fumbling to holster his handgun and sling his discarded rifle. He flailed his head from side to side, making sure there were no infected or survivors approaching. The radio wired to his car still sputtered with static, all the sounds wrongly registering as Eddie, Frost, Free, Hammerson, Hobbs, and Kovalenko laughing at him. His footing found itself away from the car slowly, his legs working on autopilot as the sounds of ghastly laughter flooded his brain. He gripped his head, the swelling memories of words spoken mixing in with the ghoulish mockery. A small amount static erupted from the handheld radio he had gotten recently and he ripped it off his vest, chucking it at a nearby tree with a feral growl.

The radio would manage to transmit little more than growls, laden with static. It's transmission would cease shortly after it began, his snarling voice trailing off into the static as he marched from the wreckage.


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