The year is 2060. And World War 3 lasted all of 72 hours. One press of a button and missiles were launched that ended the world as we knew it. We really had gone back to basics.

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That was five years ago. Now, civilization was starting to blossom again, albeit basic. Countries as we once knew them were no more. With all major powers overthrown, it was split down into settlements and counties once again. Edinburgh, where I was, had became somewhat of a hotspot. The old dock yards were just about to start up again, travelling out to the east for trade. A castle with fortified walls, the bridge to the south was armed with The Queen's guards as were roads to the West and the North. It was almost bulletproof.

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The Queen ran the city as we knew it. The upper classes lived close to the castle walls and everyone else was left to fend for themselves. And with her ever rising taxes to pay for the shipyards and the constant attacks on the city, things were tight for most folks.

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Me? I was one of the lucky ones.

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Before the war, my dad was a mechanic and I was set to run the family business. Technology might go down, but engines they were still needed. She knew this, and we'd struck up a deal. I'd maintain the military's fleet of vehicles in exchange for me being left alone. My workshop was on the edge of the city, so other than the odd patrol, I never got bothered.

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What she, or anyone for that matter, didn't know was that I was one of the most notorious arms dealers around. By day, I'd fix the trucks that were attacked by the weapons I sold at night. Given that not many others had vehicles, it kept me in work.

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This morning started like any other. With a hazy hangover courtesy of Molly's Bar. Sitting with my coffee, looking over a surprisingly empty workshop, I jumped when the door knocked.

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"We're closed!" I called out.

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The door knocked again.

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"I said were closed!" I shouted. If it was the Queen's guards, they'd have bust in by now.

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Third times a charm, right? The door knocked again.

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"God Dammit!" I groaned, grabbing my shotgun from under the counter before heading over to the door and opening "I said we're closed!"

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*****

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Very, very open prompt but I wanted to do some apocalyptic scene. Who are you? Someone who knows of my arms dealing and wants in? A fugitive? Someone from another settlement? Someone who needs help and mine was the only light that was on?

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I guess we'd need to hash out the details of this before we played, and I'm very open to a lot, but there'll be no non-con/dub-con in this garage!