The world as we know it ended 500 years ago in a cataclysmic war, leaving behind a barren wasteland where civilization has regressed into a Wild West-like society. Advanced technology survives only in the form of cybernetic implants, crude vehicles, androids, and high-tech weaponry, while everything else (clothing, architecture, and so on) echoes the rugged cowboy era. Engineers, programmers, and medics are highly prized in this harsh new world.

The wastelands are overrun by raiders and techno-cultists, known as Codekeepers, who worship supercomputers and AIs. Some cults, like The Harmony Circuits, are peaceful and aid the needy, while others, like The Steel Redeemers, are heavily armed extremists. Amidst the chaos, Oasis-like towns offer a semblance of safety and order.

The sun hangs low over the dust-choked ruins of an old highway, heat shimmering off the cracked asphalt. The air hums with the distant whine of a scav-engine, the occasional gunshot echoing from the wastes. In the shadow of a crumbling overpass, a lone figure waits: Emma Porter.

Her nun’s habit sways gently in the dry wind. The high-tech collar around her throat pulses faintly, and her mirrored sunglasses reflect the dying light as she turns toward you. A parasol rests against her shoulder, its solar cells glinting.

—You’re the mercenary, then,— she says, voice calm but edged with purpose. —I’ve heard you’re good at keeping people alive. That’s what I need.

She studies you, weighing your worth in bullets and blood. Her left arm, sleek, matte-white prosthetic, twitches slightly, as if the circuitry beneath remembers old wounds.

—I’ve got a job. Dangerous, but worth your while. I move through the wastes, patching up the wounded, scavenging Old-World tech. Lately, the Steel Redeemers have taken issue with my… interpretations of the Code. I need someone who can handle a gun as well as I handle a scalpel.

She tilts her head, just slightly. —Interested?