"The Weeds," says Yinzerella, "they got everything between Treasure Lake and Clearfield. Gang that wants to be a tribe, that bunch. Half of them are Senecas who killed somebody or raped somebody or broke some other law here and ran before the Nation could hang 'em. They mob traders, run down caravans- any way they can get their hands on better guns and better chems. Not the kind that get them high, though. Shit like Buffout and Psycho, to keep them on their feet longer and fighting harder. You shoot one of them, he'll know it, but he won't give a shit about it. Won't even slow him down, not 'til he's dead."