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To Whom It May Concern (Open Frequency)

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*Maxwell hobbles feebly to the elderly, beaten barn steps, hoisting himself up one step at a time, exerting all of his powers of balance and strength to navigate the steps on one leg. Upon reaching the top of the steps, he collapses onto the rotting, foul smelling barn platform, using his aged backpack as a makeshift back support. He fishes his elderly, wrinkled radio out of his backpack and hesitates slightly before pressing the transmit button*

To whom it may concern, I, Maxwell Tani, of  shattered body and sharp mind, do condemn the people of this country to the fate they have condemned me to; total damnation. 

*He releases the transmit button and rolls up his slashed, shoddy cargo pant leg to examine the crude gunshot wound in his left knee. Pulling a bandage out of his personal medical care kit, Maxwell applies an anti-infection cream to the wound before tightly rolling the less than clean bandage around his kneecap. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Maxwell finishes wrapping his wound and retrieves his radio*

Somehow, for some naive, childish reason, I believed that there were still good people left in this world. People who would stick their neck out for their neighbour, their family, their friends; oh no, no bloody way Maxwell you naive fool, no god damn way. Even the healers, the ones who vow to mend the body and heal the soul are base and cowardly at heart, meekly surrendering to people who...

*A fit of chesty, powerful coughing overwhelms Maxwell, spraying a mixture of saliva and phlegm over the floor, adding to the mosaic of stains decorating the crusty wooden platform*

*Maxwell regains his composure after a few painful breaths and presses down hard on the transmit button, his hands shaking like a tree in a powerful gale*

Where was I... Oh... right...

What kind of person captures a camp full of people trying to get by, just to make a god damn point? Who? Then they machine gun any resistance and slaughter those stupid enough to think they can outrun bullets... Can I blame them for trying? Nobody else bloody did... Not even the so called feckless leaders, too weak to stand up to little more than organised thugs...

*He suppresses a cough with his jacket arm, wheezing heavily into the crook of his elbow*

What really, really showed me that morality has been culled from the herd was my own treatment by the thugs that captured us... No regard for the welfare of their hostages, little more than children with new toys they feel like breaking... We are not yours to toy with you sons of... No, insulting your kind... Not worth the precious little breath I have left. The doctor that tried to help me... never caught his name or I can't remember anymore... purged my system of its morphine dependency, only to have it replaced with... 

*Maxwell openly sobs over the radio, dirty, blackened tears streaming down his creased, aged face*

God damn drugs! Even now I can feel a longing for whatever they gave me, my hands are shaking, my lips are dry and I'm sweating like I've just heard the Chernarussian circus has come to town again... *a brief interruption occurs, static dominating the waves* of people beat women, inject a recovering addict with hard damn drugs and forces them to knock heads with their own countrymen... Not any god damn human being... God damn apes with guns, seeking cheap entertainment.

*Maxwell clears his throat, preparing himself for his last transmission, biting against his tongue to cope with the flaming pain roaring up his leg*

At least they're honest in their intentions... The healers... They turned me away... When I needed them most... Do no harm? That mean anything to you cowards anymore? 

There's no hope left for any of us...

*The sound of the radio thudding against the floor echoes over the transmission, giving way to static then, finally, silence*


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*Cosmo picks up his radio pressing the transmit button*

Sir I am the former Gorka Captain. I have stuck my neck out for friends and even random people that I didnt know but decided to help when they needed help. If you can somehow contact me I will gladly help you out. As I have done no harm to anyone or any group of people out there in the Wasteland. All I want to do is save peoples lives and help my neighbor. Contact me as soon as possible and I will help you and anyone of your friends who need help.

*Cosmo stops transmitting. Whipping out a bottle of Vodka and taking a sip.*

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*hold ptt*

hey bud if you ever need me for negotiating i'm there for ya bud

and also Cosmo i'm looking for ya where are ya?

*releases ptt*

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Jacket would be wandering through frequencies in a search of the one he is looking for, until suddenly he stumbled upon this one

He takes himself a few moments of thought after hearing the first sentence of the man speaking, letting out a sigh as the words pass out of his radio through his ears

The moment the man finishes, Jacket decides to pull himself off and not respond

Not until 15 minutes of deep thoughts pass through him

He holds the PTT button, starting to speak with a bidder dry tone, rather slow sounding


'They say that wars never change,'

'The path each person follow through times of despire are filled with rough turns and decisions,'

'The ways that people with the same cause for the fight follow through is filled with shit on the way as well'



He pauses shortly, letting out a sigh


'Good people... Exist, Those who live among us and sacrifice some of themselves for the other, are somewhere out there.'

'And no matter what, What's the meaning of survival, if we won't ensure the one of the other?'

'Perhaps with all what goes... You better adapt, trusting mainly on yourself.'

'Much luck.'


Jacket releases the PTT button after releasing a hearable sigh at the end of his speech, writing the frequency's numbers over his notepad before continuing his certain frequency search


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*Endeavour hears a voices from the radio but he doesn't respond he keeps on driving his truck though the woods and turns the key and the engine roar goes down softly.

Endeavour opens the heavy blue truck door and walks to the back and picks up his chainsaw puts it on the ground, grabs the jerry can with the funnel  he takes the petrol cap of the chainsaw and starts to fill it up.

He puts the jerry can back into the truck. he put his foot on chainsaw and pulls the chain until the chainsaw starts. He starts walking over to the tree he cut the day before and starts cutting the tree into logs. after a few hours of work he walks back over to truck and hops into cab and opens a can of beer he grabs the radio also and pushes the PTT*


fuck sake..

Max? you better not be fucking dead you twat

If you can hear me, Its fucking Western.

Where the fuck are you i know a doctor.

There's not many good people left Max.

Not anymore..





Edited by Western

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