Miles Dyson
"I know I can die, Miles. I'm running low on meds. It'll probably cost you every bullet, but I know you can kill me. Luke's message made it sound like he's found some kind of nano med motherload. It'll be very different with him. He's the one who isn't being told to stop, and unlike me, even if he was told he wouldn't listen." John said.
"Tch, you nano med guys are real pieces of work, you know that?" Miles muttered, slipping the slide on, drawing the slide over the frame of the pistol, mounting it and then racking the slide several times to ensure it was in proper working order.
"World gives you limitless chances--a clean bill of health and the first thing ya do ya guys go ego maniacal when the worlds clusterfucked as is." He shoved the clip in.
Despite the clip, and the overall silhouette of the firearm, the P37 was NOT your standard sidearm. For one, he had built in an LCD ammo counter at the rear and top of the gun. The pistol featured a laser dot sight, and fired substantially heavier flechette rounds--not bullets. It also had a palm identifier that he had built in himself as well, meaning no one except him could use it. This easily did away with the scenario of someone taking his gun. The pistol was a complete invention on his part.
"I also have no intention of going in there and shooting," he continued. "I'm not a big fan of guns or fights or most anything that usually ends with someone dead. He won't hold me hostage if I walk in like a guest instead of a liberator. Luke's radio announcement said any nano med patient was welcome, and if there's others there already, it'll seem pretty hypocritical if he turns me away. You were a soldier. Consider it like reconnaissance."
That was one they were in dire need of--information. Information could prove more useful than bullets, and, at times, more valuable than even the smallest bread crumbs. John was right. He was a soldier. Right now those instincts were telling him he felt out gunned, and out sourced. If they were to make it here, they needed to rectify the situation. They needed weaponry, they needed food and water, and they needed information on the surrounding areas.
What areas did Luke control versus what areas he did not. If he didn't control them, why? He obviously couldn't maintain a complete city--that wasn't in Miles' assumptions. But were the areas he didn't maintain stripped of their resources, or were they too inaccessible for even someone like Luke to get to? That was partially why he was so eager to get to that police station.
"Alright, but no heroics. You see Luke or his men shitting on anyone--you leave them alone. You wanna be recon, I'll let you be recon. But recon ain't anyone's cavalry. You keep cool. You go losing your head, you put everyone in danger."
"Whatever, though. I've said my piece and I'm sure it will be ignored, but if you need help getting into that crevasse you're talking about, Triggerman, I'll give you a hand. I used to do a little climbing before I signed up for the meds."
"Then you need to stay top level." Alexia responded. "In case something goes wrong, ya know. Back up." She tossed back at him with a wry grin. She rolled her shoulders a bit. "Besides, I think there's a better chance that you can pull me up then me pulling you up."
That's when Mile's heard the door open, and rather than take aim, he grabbed his switch axe and with a flick of the wrist it was unfolded and ready to split a man's skull like a melon. The axe head was honed to an incredible edge. Sharper than twisted metal. There were a number of reasons why he chose this weapon above a handgun, most simply because it wouldn't make as much noise and send any would-be back up from rushing them.
"White flag!" The man hollered. It honestly looked like a napkin to him Miles thought, but to each their own. "Oh sorry, you can never be to careful when it comes who you are selling to."
"So you folks interested in trading? I've got a good amount of ammunition." The man asked, he probably didn't see the technological marvel that was Miles reconstituted body holding a highly modified tomahawk, ready to split his head open.
"If you're just a merchant let us see your face,"Good thinking. He didn't want another gung-ho mercenary to deal with. "We're not going to have a repeat of all the crazy that happened in the woods, are we?" How many times did he have to say it?--the merc shot first.
"Just your rut of the mill traveling merchant here." He heard the man say from behind his gas mask. Miles had thought he was the only one with one one these days.
"This is just to make sure I don't get screwed over. Play fair and I won't blow us all to bits." This had Miles tightening his grip on the hatchet. He didn't respond well to threats.
"You make this yourself?" John inquired, causing Miles to glance over--twice. Did he really need to say Don't just pick up an IED? He thought that was universal knowledge. "Does it even work or is it a bluffing dud?" Great, now he's baiting a lunatic with a bomb.
"Yeah it works, I've been making them for years..... but parts have been hard to find. Finding anything this past month has been hard."
Batteries were hard to come by, but not impossible. Some you could even recharge. Though those weren't the type you'd just put together to make a bomb. But Miles could make bombs from scratch, sure. Some foil, rubber bands, C cell battery, some wires, gun powder, pipping, nails and some paper clips inside a cardboard-box could do the the trick.
"So where are you guys headed? If you don't mind me asking of course." Back to being jolly is he?
Miles stepped up to the man, obviously towering over him by at least a foot. Miles was still donned in full combat gear with many pouches layering the solid metal chest plates in the woven body armor once mass produced for soldiers like him. He then brought to the man's attention the glimmering axe in one metal hand.
"I'm going out. You touch my stuff--I touch you." He warned, before stepping past and grabbing the lengthy bit of nylon rope well suited for repelling. He holstered his handgun and the heavily modified shotgun but left his heavy pack in the corner. He then turned to Alexia.
"If you are coming, lets go. We don't need to be out later than we are going to be as it is." Miles slung the rope over one shoulder. The movement was second nature, even if the action wasn't as tedious as it looked for him. His metal frame could hold a lot more than anyone elses. He started for the door.
