Roleplaying > Moderated Freeform

Pontiac (Post-Apocalyptic Arco)

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"If that is how you feel," D'Shannon said. She walked over to Bobby's motorcycle, a decrepid and beaten machine and started rummaging through his bag. A few minutes later she produced an equally battered map.

She spread the map out in front of Eric, it was ancient, from before the Resource Wars. "Hal's a traveler, he runs a big motorpool down out of Cement City, here," she tapped the map. It was well south of where they were (Flint ruins). "He has some sort of hydroponic ethanol plant going on. Raider buggies, raider bikes, all that. If you raid at a distance, you've got to be pals with Hal. He sells ethanol by the barrel. $200 Arco-bucks gets you a 20 gallon barrel, but a good looking woman will get you a 55 gallon drum."

"Kevin runs out of Port Huron, runs ethanol boats up and down the lakes and rivers, black market trade and all that. He runs all of Port Huron, and he is more interested in tobacco, drugs, and top line weapons, like arco-laser rifles and that sort of thing."

Eric gazed into D'Shannon's dark brown eyes for a long moment, but could find no deception there.  Nodding abruptly, he turned to Eva and said, "Sorry for having you waste your time on healing this scum.  Turns out that he wasn't needed after all."  And with that he pulled the trigger on his old S&W, putting two slugs into Bobby's brain before the startled raider could draw breath to protest.  It was just like putting down a rabid dog; there was no pleasure in it, but leaving the raider alive was not an option.

Wiping the blood spatter off his gun with the cloth on Bobby's shirt, he nodded to D'Shannon.  "Thanks for all of your help."

"Maybe I'll see you around," D'Shannon said. "I've got room for a second rider, if you don't know how to ride a motorcycle," she said to Eva.

"Oh come off it already.  How many times does the lady have to tell you that she's not interested in hitching a ride with you?"

Eric began to pull items out of his trail bag, doing a quick inventory of their supplies as he waited for Eva's response.  She seemed to be dithering, but he hoped she would come with him after all.

"I treasure your offer, D'Shannon - but the Arcology uprooted me once, way back..."
[Time data and connecting links missing. Attempt restore? y/n?]
[Y, for the bazillion-th time]

"So, Eric, you got me along for better or worse. I neither eat much, nor do I get sick easily, and am generally low maintenance."
To liven up her dry statement, she tapped a more youthful vein of speech.
"I do have quite the mouth on me, so watch out!"

"One more thing to do" she realized, tied a chain around a support, and pulled it out; then another. The roof, in bad disrepair, collapsed - covering the entrance to the cellar. "Just in case we come by once more, there's still lots of useful stuff down there."

"So, see you, raider princess. Walk the path of moderation, for it is easy to fall off the fringe."


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