Jack, the mechanic, was a fairly hefty man, about 5'10", with long dirty blonde hair and green eyes.

Jack looked up from his hard work, scanning the horizon for movement. Nothing. There had been nothing happening for days, but still he looked, because caution had been all that had kept him alive through numerous failed raider attacks over the past years.

He returned to his work, thankful for the cover of his hangar. A cheaply built thing, made of a pair of large aluminum strips he'd bent into shape and dug deep into the ground, with plastic from an industrial size roll he'd picked up from a trader hung over the top to keep the rain out. The hangar was filled with a small assortment of important things - a small solar panel and battery kept a refrigerator running, and a few plywood walls formed a "bedroom", where he kept sentimental objects and a rope bed. Much of his food and water came from a small plot of "farm" (really, just a series of trash cans, bags, and drums he grew potatoes in) he'd been working on every night before bed, and he made compost with every bit of waste he had and some of the waste he picked up while trading with the caravans that stopped by every few weeks.

Two years of trading potatoes for mechanical components, scrap, and engineering textbooks had gotten his biggest project to where it was - a huge set of four vaguely arachnoid legs supported a hip piece with multiple layers of copper and steel circles and gears. The feet at the bottom of the legs had black rubber skirts around them for rudimentary air-cushion type hovering. Two arms were nearby, presumably to go with the legs. All he needed to finish his work were a fairly powerful generator, a computer, and something to serve as a cockpit.