Utterly Mad

[JOVE ONLY UPDATE] Strange faces, in familiar places

You're heading down the quiet streets, your feet shuffling up dust from the road beneath you as you slowly trudge your way back to where you're staying. It felt like forever walking down that short stretch of road, studying your metal fists, with their gears, pistons, all its intricate moving parts where if one piece were to lock up or come loose the whole thing would cease to function. Funny... how delicate a weapon of such brutishness could be. You nearly run into the motel's second story support beam when you heard a cough coming from your left, "You alright son? You seem troubled by something. Trust me, you wouldn't be the first to have such problems in this land." A gruff voice spoke to you in a piteous tone. You look to your left and see a man dressed in a duster, something that Clint Eastwood or some western hero would wear. He has no weaponry (that you could see in this light, anyway) on him, not so much as a holster attached to his belt or torso. He had a large black Ushanka on his head with the flaps folded up, with a faded Soviet Star on the center of the cap. Part of his face was concealed by the dark, but from what you could see: he was a man maybe in this mid to late thirties, his eye that you could see was brown, and the hair that stuck out from under his cap was bleach blonde.