Brooks "McCoy" Abilene

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Yeah, there’s another guy named McCoy— everybody’s heard of him. The reason Brooks is called McCoy is a good one: his stuff’s better than the speakeasy in town, never watered down (like his namesake).

McCoy is the man to know when you want to know where to go for a good time. He runs the joint out at Oakwood Park— the abandoned dance hall makes for a perfect spot. It even still has the big radio against the wall. Sure, it malfunctions time to time (and it’s awful creepy when it does), but it works just fine for the most part. It’s only if you leave it between stations ‘round six in the evening (just before sunset) that you can imagine words, a hushed undercurrent beneath the static, whispering awful things… accusing… Aside from that odd little quirk, the radio works fine. They don’t use it much though, McCoy prefers live music— and since he runs the place, nobody says boo. Besides, he always gets some fine performers.

His stock ain’t half bad, either. The local runners know him well, though they don’t know his real name (safety first, he doesn’t know theirs either). He pays them well for their trouble, which is why most deliver to him and not the joint in town. He gets on well with Cyclone (one of the few who do) and Joanna Cargo, both of whom are reliable and always have something new.

Brooks "McCoy" Abilene

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