He's a warrior of the wasteland, fighting for freedom in the savage arena of a world gone mad.
War at the end of the world
On the scarred continent of a war-wasted America, men fight for food, shelter, and survival. The ideals of a once mighty nation lie shattered. But one man remembers. One man leads the smugglers, raiders, and survivalists who bow to no one and make Chicago a free city. One man fights for more...
Bonner, The Outrider
Now the lords of chaos and despots of death have decided: Chicago will be ours! Death to Bonner! Their slave armies and grim war wagons are poised for the slaughter. The unholy alliance of would-be dictators waits to divide the spoils. But Bonner is ready. And he lives by a rule most have forgotten: Live free or die!
Leather was a big man. Not Beck or the Mean Brothers' big, but a good six feet something and a couple of hundred pounds. He had no hands. In their place were wooden stumps set with knives: two blades on the right hand, one on the left. Bonner had amputated them with an axe. The blades belonged to Bonner. He had stuck those terrible clean, swift blows intending to kill Leatherman—once a friend of the Outrider, now his greatest enemy.
A jagged, deep, three-pronged scar ran from his forehead, under the eyepatch and out the other side, continuing down his cheek life a river delta. The torn flesh had grown back a brilliant white in contrast to Leather's ruddy, heavy, bearded skin. An extremely savage blow had carved that scar in his face. It had been struck with a broken bottle which had popped the eye in the socket, and had ripped Leather's cheek to flapping ribbons of skin. Dara, Bonner's girl a long time back, had done it. She died.