Bottles clinked together as an arm emerged from a black mass in the dark workshop and attempted to find something on the workbench, groping blindly for a few minutes before a head emerged from the same black mass and looked in the direction the arm had been groping in. A second later the arm found what it was looking for and pulled a chain on a lamp, illuminating the workbench and small sphere around it in a pale golden light from the bulb of the lamp. The grizzled, middle-aged man blinked in the sudden light and rubbed his eyes and stubbly chin; groaning, he arched his back and twisted side to side, causing a few small pops in his back then got to his feet. 

He looked around the workshop, taking in the piles of junk here and there and then the places where he had his guns disassembled for cleaning and had his tools. He walked from the workshop to his small dingy kitchen through the doorway connecting his house to his workshop and grabbed two brown glass bottles of beer. Cracking one open, Dante walked back into his workshop and said back down in front of his disassembled revolver. He set his beers down and began to clean his revolver.

He knew the weapon well, and had it cleaned in about five minutes. He examined all of the parts after cleaning them to make sure they weren’t rusted or anything and then proceeded to put the handgun back together and then set it aside on the workbench with the cylinder open and ready to load. He went to work on his rifle next; it was a Winchester Model 70 bolt action made of a dark polished wood. Not having built his rifle himself, it took Dante a little longer to clean it than it did his revolver. 

When he was finished cleaning the rifle, Dante once again looked around the workshop, taking long swig from his opened bottle of beer. He took in the motorcycle a few feet away from him; it had a few things wrong with it, and he didn’t have the tools necessary to fix it, but he thought he knew who might; his son, who was one of the guards at Chico had mentioned a woman who needed a partner to go outside of the walls with, and she might have the tools Dante needed. Plus, he needed to make a trip out of the walls anyway. He finished off his beer and started on his other one on his way to his front door. He finished the beer at his door and put on a faded red ballcap and made his way to the house he was told the woman lived.