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Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2006 13:18:34 GMT -5
A few hours later, Four-Eyes' phone rings. Its Gunther.
"Yo, chummer? Where you at?...You took off and left your car?...Oh, thats for Red to take home? You're a nice guy Four-eyes...Oh, its to get your car fixed by him...Gotcha...Alright...Well, when are you going to be back?...Hmm...Alright. Arctic, see you then..."
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Post by wolflet59 on Feb 15, 2006 18:33:05 GMT -5
The bus pulls away from the ambush site, weaving under the shadow of Route 90 overzoom. More small communities shelter under the 'crete, glued like limpets to rocks as the agro-tanks take the place of factories. Every so often a rancid stench wafts through - pumped out from the algae vats or slurry piped onto 10' high beanstalks of -corn? peas?
Eventually the ground begins to tilt towards the hills, then white-tops creep out in the distance. the scrub begins to take a hold - land lots left deserted, real trees, burnt out wrecks pushed off the road filled with nettles.
This is the fringe of the four (or five) strip zoom. still has high sides, propped up to make the flow smooth. It ignores the terrain outside of it's boundaries, slipping its way up to the mountains in the East.
'Services and maintenance gaps in the zoom up ahead - fuel, motorway cops, rest rooms, and the 'First And Last' diner we'll be there in fifteen'
Welcome to the Sticks !
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Post by Braddoc on Feb 15, 2006 20:56:56 GMT -5
Four-Eyes reloaded his used cartridges, put away his knife, and exchanged his smartgoggles for his sunglasses.
"Pretty slick drivin' back there Lucille..you sure you only been doing that for 3 years?" his phone ran from inside his wood camo coat.
"Heya Gunther, I took off...yeah..Yeah, but more to get him to patch it up...maybe 10 days, 2 weeks..dunno really....yeah Later Gunther."
He leaned back into his seat, and pulled out a cigarette from inside his pack.
"We can smoke in your bus Lucille...right?...and who's that Hunter guy? "
(OOC: the tread seems closed, but it was more for the others to get what i"ve said over the phone.)
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Post by krondax on Feb 16, 2006 2:25:18 GMT -5
Hunter nodded before shutting off his phone and walking over to his truck. Its about time he thought to himself as he placed his hands on the door handle and opened it up. Reaching inside the doorframe, he grabbed onto a pull handle and pulled himself up propping himself in mid air as he looked over his supplies. Rifle....check. Backpack....check. 5 gallon bucket.....check He grinned to himself as he looked at that last one, a little party favor and ice breaker for on the road. Climbing down, he slammed the door shut, and then walked to the front, pulling himself up and into the truck. Turning over the key, he smiled as the engine roared to life with a throaty rumble that reminded him of a really pissed off Wendigo
Turning the wheel, he eased the clutch in and shoved the shift lever in 1st and then eased off the clutch while giving the beast some gas. When he came to the mail box, he stopped, and opened the door to pull the contents out of the box. Only thing of importance, was a letter, the rest was just adds that he had no use for other than kinling. Ripping the envelope open, he found a letter and a couple of chips. Setting the chips asside for the moment, he looked at the letter, and recognized the shakey handwriting almost immediately. Ron: sorry to hear about your audio player getting wrecked, along with those music chips you had. So, I decided to send you a care package. Its not much, but it should tide you over till i can delge up the rest of my collection, and put them back onto stick for you. You know how i am about keeping the old CD's around. Anyway, you watch yourself and take care now. Love, Grandpa. A grin as wide as Mt Helens erupted on his face as he took one of the chips and placed it into his duster pocket. The other he slammed into the chip slot on his dash board. A moment later, "Born is the Enemy" by Daysend began to blare out of the speakers in his truck. Smiling, he shoved the clutch in, and idly played with the shifter. His right foot mashed the pedal, revving the engine a couple times before he shoved the truck back into first. No sublty this time, as he mashed the gas and released the clutch. The front of the truck rose a bit as the back tires dug in, sending rocks flying backwards. When the tires reached the pavement, the sound of moving dirt was replaced by a squeeling sound as the tires spun faster than the truck was moving for a few moments before they finally bit into the asphalt. Whitout missing a beat, he quickly slammed his left foot ont he clutch, and pulled back on the shifter, pulling it into second. Just as fast, he let off the clutch, a bit too fast as the tires chirped in protest of the change of speed.
Good tunes for a Good ride he thought as he sped down the road towards the diner......
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