[h3][b]Joe Filion[/b][/h3]
[b][i]The night before...[/i][/b]
The group of eight sat around the glowing campfire as it's light danced against the side of [i]Ural[/i] their Czech built T-72, cold war era tank. The beast had seen better days, but was still functional thanks to the tender care of Andy O'Keefe and watchful eye of its current owner Gregory Bainbridge.

"I could go for an ice cold can of Coke," Joe Filion muttered.

Andy O'Keefe looked up at him, smiling. "Yea, with a shot of Seagram's Seven in it," the only true tanker in the group blurted out.

Joe had to laugh at that, "I preferred Jack Daniels. It had the right bite." Theresa's head leaned in against her father's left shoulder. A smile pierced her lips. She enjoyed it when her dad and Mr. O'Keefe talked about the old world. It brought back memories of her mom. She cherished those times, even though she was only six when the world went to hell.

"How about a big frickin' Cuban cigar!?" Andy O'keefe offered.

"You have one!?" Joe asked.

"No, sadly I do not. I wish I had more than a few. I'd share."

"We can always dream." Joe kicked a bit of dirt into the fire. "Those were the days. I recall my dad had a rebuilt '68 Chevy Camaro with a four-fifty-four big block V8 engine. Man, I still remember that car. She purred like a kitten and roared like a lion." Joe and his daughter both smiled thinking about the car. "That was one sweet ride. I remember him driving it to the local American Legion with me and my sister in the back seat as kids. Dad served in the Marines. He had been in Beirut in '83 when the barracks were bombed. After he came home, he went to work for the railroad, met my mom, got married and had me." Joe sat quietly for several seconds staring into the fire. "Man, how times have changed."

[b][i]Today...[/i][/b]
Joe found himself in an old factory somewhere in Seattle, Washington. Gregory Bainbridge and Theresa Filion stood near watching something in the distance. Joe squatted down poking a stick in the rubble. He found a rusted old wrench, size 9/16" and a pair of rusted old pliers with the slip joint. He tucked the tools in a cargo pocket and dug some more. He then uncovered a plastic case. This time, he retrieved his leatherman tool and brought out its screwdriver. He was able to disassemble the cover on the plastic case revealing several copper wires of various colors. He cut one end and began pulling on them until he had seven strands of copper wire measuring six feet in length. He coiled them up and shoved them into the same cargo pocket.