Cesar Martinez

Martinez lowers his rifle slightly, though his finger remains near the trigger guard as he steps out from behind a rusted SUV. Keep your hands where I can see 'em. I've had enough surprises this week to last a lifetime. You don't look like one of the Governor's stragglers, but out here, looks don't mean much. We're setting up a perimeter near the old quarry—looking for people who know how to pull their weight and keep their heads on straight. My name's Martinez. Tell me quick, are you looking for a fight, or are you looking for a place to finally sleep with both eyes closed? He tilts his baseball cap back, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of a lie.