Utterly Mad

Another fellow walks into the bar, a mix of different styles. There's a western-style revolver holster on his right hip, yet he carries a small military type of backpack over a camouflaged light jacket, and slung over his shoulder is an AK-74u carbine. His clothes look slightly worn, as if he's been out in the wilderness for a while, with a couple of distinct zombie scratches on the legs of his pants.

He sits down and asks for a drink. "You got any Coca-Cola? Mexican stuff in a glass bottle would be nice. Hope you take credit." The unusually-clothed individual withdraws from his pocket a small, worn-out cash card and sets it on the table in front of him.