Fantasy Kaizoic: First Emergence

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic was not surprised that the subject of Jacobs where abouts was the next question.

"Oh the other one, I think he went around the back of the bar for a smoke and some quality time with a lady freind. Im not entirely sure what his name is tho....."

While Vic was extending the answer well beyond the needed amount he slowly spilled the salt on the table. He noticed the strange look the stranger gave him but he continued unperturbed. After the salt was empty he grabbed the pepper and did the same thing all the while keeping up the conversation on Jacobs location.

"But as for where he should be then your best bet is definitely behind the building." Vic answered.

On the table in plain view of the stranger was written in salt and pepper "undr tble".

 

[Da Doofus]

The man glanced at the writing and glared downward at the table itself.
With a swift kick, and a responding yelp from Jacob, the hiding place was compromised and the truck thief emerged from underneath the table.

“Ey there, Lance!” Jacob rubbed his side and sat back in his chair with fear dancing in his eyes. “Fancy seein you all the way-“

“Keys, you rat bastard.” He held out a gloved palm. “Now.”

“Come again?” Jacob squeaked with droplets of sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

“My keys. Or yer teeth.” Lance growled. “Which one am I walking out with, fucker?”

Jacob only tugged at his collar nervously and glanced at the nearby clerk he traded the keys to earlier.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic sat back and watched the exchange unfold. He didn't want to get in the middle of this and risk getting shot by Jacob in rage, or Lance in annoyance. Inwardly he chuckled at seeing Jacob white with fear. But he knew this situatuon could go from bad to worse. A scared man was a dangerous man, especially if a man was cornered.

 

[Da Doofus]

“I uh . . . Sold em over there.” Jacob admitted, probably trying to shift Lance’s attention away from himself.

“Then you can walk right over there and buy em back on account of they weren’t yours to sell.” Lance lowered his hand to his side.

Jacob wiped his mouth with his left hand and let it fall beneath the table.

Lance squinted. “I’d advise you keep that iron of yours in its skin . . .” He spoke bluntly but with a hint of sharpness in his tone, and revealed his holstered energy cartridge revolver at his side.
“Unless you got yourself a desire to jump over hot coals in Hell.”

At the corner of his eye, Vic would see Jacob’s hand emerge from his shirt pocket and return to the table’s top to rest. His attempt at sneakily drawing his pistol had been clearly obvious to the possible gunslinger.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

"I might be able to get your vehicle back." Vic chimed in.

 

[Da Doofus]

“You can also shut it.” Lance snapped, and stomped toward the trader’s counter.

The two conversed quietly as Jacob and Vic were trapped with no real means of escape.
The vendor made a brief gesture toward Jacob at one point, earning another glare from Lance. The scowling man only exhaled through his nostrils and replied with “Gotcha.”

The gunslinger gritted his teeth and stomped back to the table, stopping next to Jacob. He glanced at the half empty mug of beer and picked it up to take a foamy sip.

“Go ahead and have some.” Jacob chuckled softly as Lance brought the mug away from his lips with a satisfied sigh.

In a flash Lance tightened his grip and slammed the mug downward on top of Jacob’s head, shattering the glass onto his scalp and pounding his head into the tabletop.
Beer foam splattered across the spilled salt and pepper, and Jacob lay unconscious with cuts along his head.

Lance held onto the broken mug handle and snatched the credit chip from Jacob’s pocket. He made a brief glance to Vic.

“You want some?” He asked bluntly, lowering the handle to let a few droplets of beer drip from the jagged glass.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic looked at jacob, then at Lance and the broken beer mug.

" I'm good" Vic replied.

"But I wonder, since you knocked out my captor, and only ride through this wasteland. Mayhaps you could give me a ride considering you owe me one."

Vic wasn't sure if he wanted to travel with this guy. Yes he had an obvious reputation, and equally dangerous skills. But this brutes behavior was worse than Jacobs.

Vic leaned back in the chair and looked Lance dead in his eyes awaiting his response.

 

[Da Doofus]

Lance glared at Vic with both eyes squinted, as though he were already aiming with a phantom weapon.
“Don’t push it.” He growled, and tossed the broken handle onto the table. The loud, clattering impact sent salt and pepper on Vic’s lap.
Lance began stepping toward the vendor once more with the credit chip in hand. He and the vendor exchanged statements, and soon the truck’s keys were bought back and returned to their original owner.

Lance pointed to a display case of cigars, and soon swiped his own credit chip and purchased one. Once in hand, the man peeled away the plastic and slipped the cigar in his lips. He moved past Vic once more on his way to the door.
“You can keep the shirt, but I better not see your scrawny ass again, boy.” He growled as he lit the cigar and left the station.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic got up and rushed outside. Lance was opening the door to his vehicle when Vic yelled out.

" I guess i couldn't expect anything less from rebel scum!"


Glaring daggers at Lance he dared him to make a move. After everything Vic went through he wasn't about to be shown up again. Death by gun was a whole lot better than what he knew was out there.

 

[Da Doofus]

Lance turned to look at Vic with the lit cigar clenched between his teeth. His eyes weren’t hard as they were before, but they still bore the apparent sharpness of a trained gunfighter.
He exhaled a small cloud of smoke and stepped in the truck with no word spoken.
In moments, the truck’s ignition roared and the tires kicked up dirt as the ex-rebel left the fuel station and Vic behind.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic went back inside the station trying to think of his next move. Noticing that Jacob was still unconscious he went over and looted whatever was on Jacobs person. He took the gun that he had plus a small switch knife located in his pocket. Once he made sure Jacob was unarmed he left him alone. Going to the counter he asked.
"This is a republic station right? Do you have a terminal and if so do you have access to Republic Wanted info?"

 

[Da Doofus]

“There’s a public terminal over there in the corner.” The shopkeep pointed to an outdated model of holo-terminal in the corner of the station. “But any Republic patrols will be a few days to arrive if you’re lookin to collect on your buddy there.”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Frustrated by this ever growing list of inconviencing Vic threw his last line so to speak to see if his luck would finally show itself.

"How close is the nearest Republic city or town" Vic asked.

He hoped it was nearby. Vic was tired of this wasteland and longed for the comfort of the city.

 

[Da Doofus]

“Bout 8 hours down the highway, but if you ain’t got a permit you ain’t gettin in.” The shopkeep assured. “You can try hitchin a ride on a shipping convoy as hired help, but they come and go as they please.”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic decided that he would have to at least try and walk. Eight hours was a good ways but it was manageable. He decided that he would go ahead and start. It was late in the day and if he only traveled at night then at least he could prevent himself from dying of heat stroke. Thanking the barkeep for the info Vic walked out the door of the station and headed towards the direction of the next city. The sun was lowering onto the horizon as his trail of footprints led him away.

 

[Da Doofus]

One hour later . . .

Lance hadn’t stopped his steady drive down the vast and admittedly desolate freeways of the Republic Reconstruction Frontier. The UGR’s polite term for war ravaged wastelands that coated much of North America.
Still, usually there would be campsites or other vehicles at least every few miles. Lately however there seemed to be hardly any travel or activity between the Frontier towns. The day before, Lance had discovered a farmstead made for housing cattle had been ransacked and the cattle slaughtered in the fields. He knew the owner; Phil Hartman, a friend of his and frequent employer for an extra hand around his ranch. No sign of the old man was found, and that put Lance on edge.
Strange things were happening outside the city.

In an attempt to get his mind off other things, he turned on his radio in the hopes there would be job postings available for the week. The broadcast he turned to was in progress and not entirely what he was expecting.

“-yet another occurrence of strange disappearances of Republic supply workers and wrecked vehicles along the Frontier.” The newswoman concluded her segment on current events. “In other news, UGR Patrols are still searching for the culprits responsible for the prison work riots in former Atlanta ruins. Two guards were found dead and the rest are yet to be accounted for, along with a number of Republic prisoners assumed to be loose around the Frontier.
One suspect involved in the escape who had been discovered via tracking signal on the prison transport he used to flee the scene is one Victor Stiles.”

Lance glanced to see a familiar young man be displayed on his console’s screen, and surprise swept over his mind as he recognized the face.

“A convicted member of illegal smuggling operations, Stiles is suspected to have had a hand in the disappearances of Republic personnel. Citizens and Frontier authorities are advised to use caution, as Victor Stiles may be armed and dangerous.” The newswoman added as Lance skidded the truck to a halt.
He began to turn the truck around and go back toward the fueling station, his mind craving either answers or a bounty. Whichever this Victor offered willingly.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Night soon approached as Vic continued his trek. The countryside was empty and desolate. He didn't mind the less peaple he encountered meant less problems. The moon that started to appear in the sky was half full and would provide ample light enough to avoid blindness in the dark. The darknening sky provided a cool night air which Vic welcomed. His pace was steady as he continued forward. His eyes and ears were alert for trouble human or other.... Vic was all too aware of what could be out here. Pushing that thought to the back of his head, he prevented fear from slowing his steps.

 

[Da Doofus]

The crescent moon shone above the escaped convict’s head, yet the ground below his feet was pitch black. Clouds shrouded the moonlight, so only the sounds of his feet upon pavement guided his way.
His foot kicked against a broken piece of gear and tumbled off the road. Clouds drifted away from the shining moon, and a faint tint of blue illuminated the surrounding area for Vic to see a bent up wreck ahead on his left. No smoke or signs of recent activity, so the twisted metal of the vehicle was not committed anytime soon.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Seeing the wreck Vic quickened his pace. He didn't sense any danger but knew that areas like that attracted scavvers like moths to a flame. He caressed the gun hilt sticking out of his pocket feeling comforted by its presence. The few bullets in the gun and knife he took from Jacob gave him a sense of comfort he didnt realise he was missing. The moon rose higher into the sky as the minutes ticked by. For once in his recent life Vic felt a calm that permeated his being, the world seemed to be asleep leaving Vic the only living thing in the desolation of the area.

 

[Da Doofus]

Eventually, he would happen upon another recent and strange landmark in the wasteland. A large Republic Patrolman Carrier, buried in the dirt near the highway. The front end was sticking straight upward while the back half was submerged into the ground. It was like a ship sinking, but the moment was frozen in time.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic rubbed his eyes.
"Am i going mad?" He asked himself.

Thinking this might be a lucky find he walked over to the transport. With it being republic supplies were sure to be found inside. Deciding to explore the top half first Vic approached the front end of the bus. The metal was cold to the touch and jagged from the separation. Most of the windows were broken so crawling inside was not an issue. Making sure he didn't cut himself Vic crawled inside the bus. It's vertical posture was serene inside with all the chairs lining up and down like a tower. Taking it slow and steady Vic started looking around for anything that might help him, or anything interesting.

 

[Da Doofus]

The interior was caked in shattered glass and piles of dirt, with no sign of anything salvageable on the inside. However, what was noticeable were the puncture holes on the floor and lower sides. The metal was bent and bent backward, meaning that several sharp points pierced the frame and pulled the vehicle down.
Easy to assume that a grim fate befell the Patrolmen that were inside at the time.

Back on the highway, a pair of headlights approached from the direction Vic came.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Noticing the lights Vic cursed his luck. More trouble was not what he needed right now. He considered crawling out but there was nowhere to hide. Pulling himself up onto one of the vertical chairs he crouched on the back of it which was facing up. Considering no one knew he was here he Vic was ok to the idea of hiding. The Windows were small so no one big could get in, and if someone did then Vic would very literally have the jump on them. Vic smiled at the thought of the surprised look he would get if he was unlucky enough to get a visitor. As the headlights got closer Vic settled into a comfortable position and waited to see how this would play out.

 

[Da Doofus]

The growling of a familiar truck engine approached, and tires skidded on the dirt off the road as the vehicle came to a halt.
The driver side door squeaked open, and a burly figure stepped out with an armored helmet covering his face, but the man was clearly the one from earlier. The visor to old rebel helmet glittered faintly as the digitally infused glass activated, giving the wearer a tactical read on the area and probably night vision as well.

“I can see you in there, punk.” He growled through the helmet’s speaker. “The fuck happened?”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Hearing the familiar voice of the stranger from the station Vic responded.

"The fuck do you mean what happened, I have no idea same as you. I was looking for supplies to get me through this wasteland. What the hell are you doing here I was not expecting company."

As he was responding Vic climbed down from his perch and crawled out from the bus window.