Utterly Mad

Ivan puts his hands on the man, on his chest.

I'm sure we should do this! Ivan says.

Isaac took the magazine out of his SMG and pocketed it before sliding a new magazine into the weapon. He looks up at Joshua and says "I'll follow your lead on this one."

"Uh...   About like five months maybe?   I dunno, got free food from it." 

Zaweri suddenly stands up. He runs to the RV, grabbing onto it before it leaves.
"Fuckin' Amy."

Duncan waves back with a dumb smile on his face. He thanks the old man for telling him how to get into and then starts driving to the town.

Name: Doctor Eli Keaton
Age: It's hard to tell, for some reason.
Gender: Male
Race: Human, some bionic mods here and there.

Weapon:
-An Anderson Wheeler Mark VII, a seven-shot .357 magnum revolver Eli keeps in a holster at his belt.
-An unnecessarily large and powerful lever-action rifle in .500 S&W, with a redundant suppressor slapped on the front. Eli keeps it slung over his back.
 -An unnecessarily dapper butterfly knife, serrated along the back, with fancy 'lil wooden handles.

Uniform:
-A thin black leather overcoat, covered in compact pockets, and short enough for ease of movement in fast-paced situations.
-Some "shank-leather;" essentially a thick leather vest reinforced with thin sheets of steel here and there.
-A pair of patchwork pants with padding and extra pockets sewn in here and there. They're held up with a tarnished brown leather belt.
-A pair of well-preserved, rugged hiking boots.
-A highly customized gas mask, seemingly one of those old surplus snorkel ones with a beak-like protrusion protecting the snorkel-filter. Kept on a belt loop when not in use.
-A wide-brimmed black leather hat.
-Fingerless leather gauntlets, reinforced along the sides with riveted pieces of thin steel.
-An easy-to-carry canvas sling backpack, festooned with pins from before the whole apocalypse thing.

General Inventory:
-Fourteen .357 rounds in addition to the seven already within the revolver.
-Seven rounds for the rifle in addition to the seven within.
-An improvised Walkman-like device, with crappy headphones to go with it.
-DRUGZ: More than I could really list. A good half-pound of crystal meth, maybe a whole pound of cocaine, a few medium bags of weed separated by type, some dried opium bricks, a large Ziploc filled with hallucinogenic mushrooms, another Ziploc of sugar cubes laced with LSD, a large, smudged plastic bottle of liquid methadone, a small glass jar filled to the brim with tablets of PCP, a large, plastic case of those little liquor bottles they serve at gas stations and on airplanes, and more goddamn prescription drug bottles than you could imagine, namely Adderall, Xanax, codeine, co-codaprin, Ambien, morphine, and the like. A few cigars, cigarettes, cigarillos, kreteks, beedis, menthols, actual rolling tobacco, and other tobacco-related products.
-One or two opium pipes, rolling papers, an ornate smoking pipe that may actually be an antique peace pipe Eli found at a museum, and some syringes he keeps mildly clean.

Perks: Doc Fucking Keaton: His perpetual highness makes everything that much more awesome.
Traits: [OD-Protection-Bionic] [Lucky] [Addiction: Literally Fucking Anything]
Skills: [Guns 2] [Medicine 1] [Melee 1]
Backstory: Due to his cripplingly tragic past and the fact that he may or may not have helped kickstart this whole apocalypse thing, Eli's devolved into taking literally anything that'll do anything to keep himself from putting a bullet in his head. At this point, there is no going back, ever, and so far, that's not bothering him one bit.

After crashing his rideable eyebot on the RV of some crazy fucks a few years back, Eli's gone from group to group, fucking about, being him, makin' cash, slapping hoes and getting as high as humanly possible every second of every day.

Fuck if anyone, even him, knows where he's going next.

Spoiler: Knife (hover to show)

Spoiler: Revolver (hover to show)

Spoiler: Rifle (hover to show)