Even after the bombs fell, even after countries unleashed weapons beyond imagining on one another, even after lawlessness became the norm, people still expect their mail.
As a deadman, I'm uniquely suited to deliver it. Rads don't bother me, and people who try to hurt me typically wind up dead. Sure, humans may not like dealing with a face like mine, but hey, you can't beat my express rates.
A dystopian litrpg in the vein of Fallout and The Postman
*1500+ words per chapter
*Updates Tuesdays and Thursdays