Blood & Dust - A Post-Apocalyptic Pseudo-Western Character RP
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Eagle chuckled. "It's alright sir, I'll manage." He leaned in towards table and folded his metal hands in front of him. "Looks like Dallas is getting better by the day. One of the front gates looked a bit roughed up when I was here three months ago."
He nodded towards Jasper. "How is the Union affecting business?"
"A lot less scavengers are heading to Kentucky and the rest of the East Coast, which means less stuff for us. Now if we get anything, its because the Rangers decided to make an expedition or someone was brave enough to head over there." said Jasper, before taking another bite out of his burger. "The raiders out of Motor City took Knox practically overnight about a year ago. Union forces have been trying to take it from them for the past few months. Taking Knox would give them a better foothold in Kentucky, and create a staging area for them to push towards Fort Wayne or southwest towards Memphis."
He glanced over to Eliza, making sure she was still eating, before continuing. "That gate you were refering to got hit with an RPG. Some bandits managed to scrounge one up."
Meanwhile, outside the Lone Star Hotel...
A hoverbike floats a few feet off the ground, it's filling the air with a slight humming noise. It's rider sits still, holding a knife in their hand, and staring at it. It holds it closer to it's chest and bows it's head for a moment. It then puts the knife back in it's sheath before pulling out a beer, drinking it slowly as it watches any passersby.
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Boombox, baffled by the human food, decides his time is better spent at the gun store. His pockets contain a few things he can barter with, providing the owner is willing to do the same. Maybe if he’s lucky, he can score grenades too.
“Hey boss!” he greets the owner as he makes his way in.
“Hey boss!”
"Evenin'! Welcome to Jack's Gun Shack! What'cha need? Got guns and ammo of almost all types." said the man behind the counter, giving Boombox a simple wave as he entered. And he was telling the truth for the most part, a variety of weaponry was mounted on the walls around the store, as well as in displays in the center of the room. Almost like those pre-war gun stores. Boxes of ammunition were stacked high from the floor behind him. "First time I've seen a synth wander in here, really. Not many of you types stop in Dallas. Get plenty of robots and mutants, though."
"First time I've seen a synth wander in here, really. Not many of you types stop in Dallas. Get plenty of robots and mutants, though."
“Well man, if your place is good enough, it sure as hell won’t be the last!”
Boombox rubs his hands together as he looks at all the guns on the shop. From the corner of his eye, he spots a suppressor for sub machine guns, and a few high capacity mags.
“So, about that suppressor and those hi-caps...” he says, placing a rifle scope and some standard mags on the counter. “What you want for them?”
"Hmm..." said Jack, looking over the items. The scope looked to be in great condition, apparently a hunting scope with a relatively decent range. The magazines worked good, so that meant the springs weren't busted in the bottom. He eyed Boombox for a moment, then noticed the gold watch on his wrist. "I'll give you four hi-cap magazines and the supporessor if you toss in that gold watch with the scope and the standard mags."
The golden watch, one of Boombox’s most prized possessions. He’s had it with him ever since he was activated, finding it on a dead body outside the plant. Would this really be moment where he must part with it forever?
”Aw shit. For real?”
He rubs his head for a moment, trying to come to a decision.
”Alright man, you got a deal. Just take care of it, ok? A lot of punks tried to kill me just to take it.”
"I'll take good care of it, don' worry." said Jack, stepping over and grabbing four of the hi-cap magazines and the suppressor. He walked back over and set them in front of Boombox, before taking the watch and other items that he had traded for. "Anything else you'd like to trade for?"
“I ain’t got nothin’ else, unless you can do something with this damn thing.”
From his jacket, he pulls out what appears to be a rectuangular metallic object with dents in it, a bent pipe, and a broken triangular object. If one pays close enough attention, they can tell it appears to have once been a sniper rifle before it was turned to the messed up pile of scrap laying upon the counter. Only Boombox knows what in god’s name happened to it.
"Hey guys, how's it going? Name's Mariuz, sort of a mechanic myself. What ya'll workin on this late?"
One of them glances over. "One of the Marshal bikes. Axle got fucked up in a wreck, along with the engine and a few other bits here and there. Guy riding it walked away with just a broken arm." he said, motioning to a motorcycle in the corner. The bike had been disassembled, with parts scattered about. Looked as though it had been through utter hell over the years. There was a logo on the side of the gas tank, faded almost to an illegible state. If you squinted hard enough, one could make out the letters I N D I A N.
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Jack looked the object over. "Holy hell, what happened to it?...Seems to be a sniper rifle. Guessin' that's what the scope came off of?...I could scrap it, and try to see if I can salvage any parts out of it." He then looked about the store, before heading over to a nearby rack. "I'll give ya this sawed-off shotgun for it. Pump action, cleaned it yesterday. Think it was used for self defense pre-war. Four shots, plus one in the chamber there." he offered, walking over and setting the shotgun on the counter. "Ain't no real aiming this. No sights on the top. So basically you just point and shoot." he added.
It was the truth. There was no rear sight or front sight. "I'll toss in two boxes of shells too. twelve gauge, double-oh buckshot. Oh, and this belt to store the shells in." He reached under the counter, and pulled out a shotgun shell belt that fit around the waist. A moment later, he grabbed two boxes of shotgun shells from a stack behind him. He set both on the counter before looking up to Boombox. "How 'bout it?"
Eagle crossed his arms and grunted. Damn raiders were never good at seeing the bigger picture. Even back in the day when he ran security for the UNC most of the time something ever happened it was because of raiders. Meanwhile the real threats could grow, evolve and expand. All because drugged up psychotic shitheads. He chuckled and looked at Jasper.
"Some folks never learn, do they?"
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Thinking that Jonah's attempt to communicate with the locals weren't planning out and with no plan of her own to disturb the locals Malin shook her head and started to move. "Let them be." She nodded towards Wesley and bowed her head. "Sorry to disturb you sir. Have a good evening."
Malin then slowly walked off and continued to record what she was seeing, making sure to go as slowly as possible so she wouldn't miss anything. She had only seen Dallas once before. A brief visit which had occurred in conjunction with her arrival to the Republic.
It had been in the middle of the night. Her ride with one of the UNC's airships had taken extra time because of storms brewing just past Rig City. Ontop of that the promised state-side vehicle escort had been delayed as well because of raiders. When the escorts, a squad of marshals in a beaten down truck, had finally arrived they had only stopped at Dallas momentarily to refuel.
After that it had been a one-way journey to Houston to meet Mr. Thatch and inspect the grounds for a possible UNC embassy. In the two weeks that had passed since then Malin had been busy rubbing shoulders with local figures of influence, observing the Republic citizens, attending a military demonstration (courtesy of the Texas Rangers) and finally witnessing the Founder's Day celebration.
She had been busy to say the least. Inbetween all the reports back home and requests to meet people of status Malin actually hadn't been able to set aside time to truly, undisturbed, meet the people of the Republic. If the UNC were to make a commitment to the Republic they better have all the hard facts, something she hoped that this mission with Masterson would accomplish.
If Masterson's mission were a success then Malin- and in turn the UNC- would know that the Republic were as competent as they hoped them to be.
“Hmm, I’m not much of a shotgun kinda man, you know? You got anything a bit more... precise?”
Ozzie veered into the alleyway and pushed past Jonah, walking up to Wesley.
"Never you mind him, sir." he said with a small smirk. Well as much as Ozzie could smirk with his badly cut lip.
He opened his jacket and flashed Wesley the the deputy badge which was pinned to his vest. "Deputy Bakersworth. Mind if I ask ya a couple o' questions?"
"Lookin' for a witness," Wesley grumbled, "or are you just tryin' to con me like the rest?"
“Hmm, I’m not much of a shotgun kinda man, you know? You got anything a bit more... precise?”
"Well, I got an old bolt action over there. Lower tech than what you brought in, but gets the job done. Three-Oh-Eight Winchester. Five shots. Nice long range hunting scope on it too. I'll toss in a box of twenty rounds and a sling." said Jack, putting away the shotgun gear. He retrieved the bolt action from a rack on the right side of the store, setting it on the counter for Boombox to inspect while he fetched the ammunition and sling for it.
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"Some folks never learn, do they?"
"Nah, some don't. Some learn all too well, though. There's a reason the Union hasn't taken Knox, and why the Raiders took Knox so easily. They're organized. Rabid Jack knows what the hell he's doing, even if he's batshit insane. Just ask Eliza." said Jasper, motioning over to Eliza who was finishing off her burger.
“Now we’re talking! Mr. Jack, you got yourself a deal!”
Jack set the sling and ammo on the counter with the rifle, then took the mangled mess that Boombox offered. "Nice doin' buisness with ya. Have a nice night!" said Jack, as he took the busted rifle into a back room. Along with the gold watch and other things Boombox had turned over.
"I know yer type, grandpa." Ozzie said as he looked down on Wesley, "I'm just interested if a iron packin old geezer seen some stuff that don't quite sit in the picture."
"Leave the old bum alone, Ozzie!" Slade stood next to Jonah "You'll be lucky if he tells you what day of the week it is."
The gallery of bums let out a hoot and holler at the brewing trouble in the ally. "This boy's fixin' for an ass-whoopin'" one said.
Another, the one Wesley called Clemmons, chimed in: "Deputy, if you know what's good for yah, I'd walk away while I can." He and the others quieted down as Wesley held up his hand and looked Ozzie right in the eye.
"I don't know nothin' about sittin' pretty in pictures, but you wanna talk about greasy lookin' shit blowin' in from outtaways you oughta look in a mirror." He then spat on Ozzie's foot. "You ain't no lawman."
Ozzie looked down on his boot and then slowly looked back up unto Wesley from beneath the brim of his hat.
"Oh I assure ya, pops. I'm as law as it comes an' I got a Marshal to vouch for me." he said, once again flashing his crocodile smile to the old man.
"But if ya insist on bein' stubborn, maybe ya can get any information ya might or might not have to him, see if he's law enough for ya."
He then lit a cigarette and looked out over the crowd of rough vagabonds, "I'll leave y'all in yer squalor. Take care now." he grinned and turned around.
He brushed past Slade and Jonah, heading towards the Lone Star hotel.
Eventually, Jasper and Eliza finished up what they were doing. They stepped back out into the street with Eagle, taking note of Ozzie walking away towards the hotel. Slade and Jonah were still nearby, talking to an older gentlemen. The same one he had seen Jonah try and speak to earlier. Jasper stepped over, tugging a quiet Eliza long. "Something going on here?" he asked, looking between them. Ozzie was probably involved if there was. A man like that seemed to start shit wherever he was. Though to a much less extent than someone like Eliza or another outlaw.
He looked to the older man, studying him for a few moments. He seemed somehow familiar, but couldn't place it. Like he had seen him somewhere before. Or someone like him. Eventually, he gave up as no name came to mind. "Did my fellow deputy bother you? He's new, hired just this afternoon."
" Oh, marshal, I believe they just got off on the wrong foot. Nothing I'd worry about. I was just gonna ask about any must-see sights in ol' Detroit here. "
Jonah said.
"You keep some poor company, mister," Wesley replied. "If that man's a deputy, yer marshal must be plannin' to get robbed." He took a seat on the pallets and opened a fresh bottle of beer. "Only two types o' men in the world..." he muttered to himself quietly. "Still hiring?" he suddenly asked, realizing that if the marshal was willing to hire someone scummy like Ozzie, he'd probably spare some cash for an old drifter with the right skills.
"Yeah, actually. I can give you the details on the current job, and swear you in if you're interested. Marshal's over at the sheriff's office at the moment, so I'm currently in charge while he's gone." said Jasper. He motioned off to the side away from everyone, leaving Eliza in Eagle's care.
One of them glances over. "One of the Marshal bikes. Axle got fucked up in a wreck, along with the engine and a few other bits here and there. Guy riding it walked away with just a broken arm." he said, motioning to a motorcycle in the corner. The bike had been disassembled, with parts scattered about. Looked as though it had been through utter hell over the years. There was a logo on the side of the gas tank, faded almost to an illegible state. If you squinted hard enough, one could make out the letters I N D I A N.
Mariuz followed the gaze of the mechanic over to the bike resting in the corner. He walked up and recognized the letters, INDIAN. These type of old motorbikes haven't been produced for hundreds of years, at least. "Man, do you have any idea how old this is?" He replied in amazement towards the mechanic. "It's fucking amazing they're still running somehow." He kneed down to inspect the bike further, as the mechanic just shrugged.
"I just fix em when they bring them in." The mechanic replied, and turned around to get back to work. Mariuz stood up, and began analyzing the bike parts, realizing his own bike could use a quick fix.
"Hey listen," Mariuz began, turning towards the mechanic, "I'm good with my hands, got experience working with this type of old tech. If I help yall around the shop, could I get a couple of spares for my bike back there?" He finished, pointing towards his packed bike next the bus. The mechanic stopped his work, and thought for a second.
"I don't know man, there's only so many mechanics to work on one bike you know? But hey if anything comes in and you're still here, I'll take you up on it." The guy gave Mariuz an apologetic look like his hands were tied, and went back to work. Mariuz understood, these guys got a close bond and don't need someone coming in messing with their work flow. he began touring the rest of the facility, lookng at what kind of spare parts they had, till his sights settled on the bus the Marshall's crew drove in on. It looked pretty beat down, but it ran just fine. Whoever fixed it in Houston did a hell of a job. The turret at the top stood out to him, and he walked over for a closer look.
He grabbed the front grill by the bars, and pulled himself up on the hood, then up on to the roof to inspect the turret. It was old pre-war 50 cal, used to be called the MK47-B machine gun. Insane fire rate, cooling mechanisms, reloading addons, the works. Not a lot of them around since most parts needed precision machining and over time they became unfireable. Somehow this one was still working, but in poor shape. Suddenly, it was like a light-bulb lit up in his head. He jumped off the roof, and ran over to his bike. He realized he had some, maybe enough, tools and scrap to make that machine gun last a little longer. At the very least, jam up less. It was late, but he wasn't tired. Might as well make good use of time before turning in.
He jumped back up on the bus with his tools in tow around his waist, and a bag of various scrap on his back. The other mechanics stopped and watched with curiosity as the new hire got to work on the Marshall's gun.
Eagle crossed his arms and turned around, making sure to watch the rear while seemingly everyone harassed a group of hobos.
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Halfway to the sheriff's office Malin realized that she'd forgotten to respond to Diplo. Woops. She shrugged and continued ahead. When she reached the front doors and enter she reluctantly flashed her badge. "Marshal Masterson, where can I find him?"
"Marshal Masterson, where can I find him?"
The lady at the desk simply pointed down a hallway left of Malin. "End of the hall, on the left." she said, before adjusting her glasses and resumed reading over the paperwork in front of her. It seemed important, judging from how hard she was looking at it.
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Eliza glanced over to Eagle. "Don't like hobos, eh? I used to pick 'em off with my rifle back up around Motor City. Was always fun to watch one of the raiders run a bunch of 'em out from the ruins. I'd just perch on a nearby rooftop with some beers, smokes, and music. Pick 'em off one by one. Heads would explode in just a red mist." she said, a smirk appearing on her face as she talked. "I was a cruel bitch back then."
Eagle turned towards Eliza and studied her smirk. He punched her in the stomach. Hard. "Don't ever talk like that to me ever again." He did a thumbs up towards Jasper.
As much as he hated to admit it Eliza weren't far off. Back when he had just been re-activated the scavengers that brought him back weren't hesitant to use him as muscle against rival scavengers. This was the time before he'd been able to form his own personality, thoughts and have his own free will. Even though he was different now the memories were still there...
"Its open!" said a voice from inside the room. The door read 'Sheriff's Office' with the name Nathan Williams tacked on beneath it. Masterson's voice could also be faintly heard inside. Apparently he was talking about some sort of gun.
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Eliza dropped to her knees from the impact of Eagle's fist in her gut, her face resting against the broken asphalt. "OOoooh FUCK!" she spat, coughing before sitting up. "Forgot how hard you fucks can hit...oh yeeeaahh..." She climbed to her feet slowly, then straightened up with one last cough. She grinned afterwards.
Jasper simply glanced back, raising an eyebrow till he saw Eagle's thumbs-up. Then, he returned to the bearded man.
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