The wastes

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caligari

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A bullet buried itself in the wall of the old transit tunnels near Arlington right above Ryan's head, chips of stone and dust came falling down upon his hands. That was one of the more closer calls he's had all day and if he wasn't crouching down behind some rubble his blood would have given the underground passage a much needed new coat of paint. Others around him were less fortunate in the survival department; merely a few meters away from him was a body tightly gripping a battle rifle and that was the whole reason he'd made it up this far to the front. When he saw the rifleman in question fall, Ryan knew he had to get to the body first or else someone else would run off with the spoils. In all honesty it wasn't really the rifle he wanted, merely the ammo; his own weapon was running low and he was down to his last clip despite the fact that he had been firing on single shot mode for the past few days now.

In the brief moment of respite Ryan gave himself he gazed back at their own lines with most of the men cowering behind old railway carts and rubble. He found the whole thing ironic to be honest: they use cover to protect their lives, claim they fight to protect the lives of their families and even hired him to be a medic saving the lives of the wounded in the safety behind the lines. He would have been doing just that if it wasn't for the fact that medics who remain behind the lines don't get much in the way of spoils of war. If they were so concerned with human life, then why did they declare war with their neighbors a bit further down the tunnel? You'd think "humanitarians" such as them would realize not many people still remain upon the world.

The young mercenary medic chuckled and reached into a satchel on his belt and took out a pack of cigarettes and something to light it. He popped one of the fags in his mouth, flicked the flint on the lighter and brought the flame to his own little addiction. With a deep inhale of smoke and a calm exhale of relief, Ryan set his mind a bit at ease, blocking out all the shouting, crying and shooting around him. He didn't even care that a bullet whizzed right by his ear. He just sat there with a nice cigarette in his hand and the thought "fuck it all" in his head.​
 
A gunshot echoed throughout the courtyard and a body fell like a bag of sand. At first the little girl simply stood in sheer shock, her mouth agape as she watched her guardian's lifeblood pour out of his chest. She ran to the gasping, sputtering body, shaking it with all the strength her small arms could muster, trying to keep him in this world. But it was to no avail. The body rattled and passed, and the girl with wide, trembling eyes turned her gaze towards the raiders.

"She'll make a good slave . . . maybe grow into something we can use."

"Grow into one? We can use her already." The latter of the two raiders levels the pistol to the girl's forehead. "So, little missy, are you going to come along with us or are you going to end up like Daddy here?"

The girl bites her lip and glares, summing up more courage in her frail body than many grown men possess. Her chest puffs and her eyes seethe. "Kill me," she whispers.

"Well, John, looks like we've got ourselves a cute little fighter. Should I blow her precious little brains out?"

Silence.

"John?" He turns his gaze back to his partner, only to be greeted by a fountain of blood spurting from the man's neck. "What the fu-" A bullet smashes through his head, causing his body to jolt, shiver, and collapse beside his bleeding out partner. The little girl panics, leaping back behind the slouched body of her father as a dark figure approaches her.

"Are you hurt?" A soft voice slips from the gas mask and the figure kneels next to the little girl, trauma overwhelming her nervous system, frozen in terror. The figure reaches out to gently brush the girls cheek with his gloves, sighing sadly. "Poor little thing, born into this world." He removes his mask, revealing a creased yet kind face, his eyes piercing yet sad. The man turns and pries the pistol from the dead raider's corpse, handing it to the girl. "Take this. It's not hard to use." The girl weakly reaches for the weapon. If this man should attempt something cruel, at least she'd be armed . . .

The lanky man peruses the pouches of the raider's, finding emergency rations and some bullets, for a moment disregarding the girl. "What's your name?" He calls out from the hip of John.

"Ch-charlotte." The girl examines the weapon that slayed her father before casting her gaze on the man, his eyes hauntingly excited as he rummages through the body of John. It seems he looted everything he could from the raider and is now inspecting the body itself.

"My name is Jeff." He rolls the bloody body onto his shoulder, hoisting it up with much difficulty. "Do you want to live, Charlotte?"

Charlotte nods.

"Then follow me."
 
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Josephina was still a bit boggled on how she ended up under the old transit tunnels near Arlington. The day had started off simple; eat food, scavenge the land, take a nap somewhere, and look for someone or something to talk to. The Wasteland Jo called home could be increasingly lonely to some. Then, without realizing, the young blonde had been gunned down, forced to take refuge in a small enclave where workers would stand when fixing certain transmission boxes. It was surprisingly comfy, but very unnerving when a barrage of bullets would chip off the concrete that was shielding her head. Her own weapons had become discombobulated and were now laying five feet away smack dab in the middle of the attack.

She had indeed decided that today she would search the tunnels for anything people may have discarded, but never in her imagination would she see herself being shot at five minutes after walking across the tracks. Jo did not find this ironic; in fact she found this situation to be quite the waste of time. She had planed to do a million other things today. This was not in her plan book. "Damn..." she muttered, searching her pockets for anything that may get her out of such a sticky situation. Eventually, after searching every little nook and cranny, Jo found nothing and resorted to just sitting there.

Regardless of her immobility, the rain of fire continued and she decided it was time to bring out the big guns. "Hey! You idiots! What is the point of this?" Her head came around the corner of her hide-away as her voice doubled in octaves, but she retreated as a few bullets whizzed by her ears. "You're wasting ammo! Cowards!"

This was ridiculous...
 
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A stubby finger moved a little bit to the right.

„…for st.. Ste.. S-t-e-a-„
„Stealing.”

The finger stopped for a second and then moved to the right again, this time pushing fiercely against the paper. A loud huff was heard.

„…ammun..”

The man, his finger still attacking the wanted poster, looked right. He kept furrowing his brows and a few drops of sweat formed between the wrinkles, rolling back and forth as the man swayed his head to the sides. There was something in his look, but saying whether it was a plea or a threat was simply impossible. Alex remembered similar expressions showing on the faces of children she taught back at home. It was this delightful mix between PLEASE HELP ME and I AM CAPABLE OF DOING THIS, although in case of Karl here, the latter would probably be I DO THIS.

The woman took a step back and suddenly became very interested in her shoelaces, kneeling to untie one so she could tie it again. The man, Karl, growled and moved his face closer to the poster.

„A-mmu-„
„AMMUNITION!”

Alex jumped at the scream and instantly hated herself for it. Oh, poor girl got scared? Tough shit. Man up. She swallowed some thick saliva and stood up, not daring to look towards the campfire. From the two of them, she preferred Karl’s company. Karl was simple. Karl was slow. And most importantly, Karl was not a psychotic piece of absolute shit who just happened to be lucky way too many times.

„For fuck’s sake, you sickening bag of lard, that’s not even a hard word!” A blonde man threw a few bones into the fire, having previously bit every little piece of meat off of it. He rolled his eyes and licked his fingers, the sound coming from his mouth just merely a laugh. „Lost cause, ey, Bacon?” He added, still in the same tone, looking to Alex. She shot him a quick look and mumbled something painfully neutral. Play along, stay strong, cut off his dong. Alex knew about prayers as such, but this? This mantra was the best thing ever.

„Just tryin’, boss” said Karl, the redness on his face turning to a deeper shade. He took a few huge steps and sat next to the campfire, rummaging through the bags in search of some more food. The blonde snarled.
„Save it. No one needs you to read crap. Bacon?”

Play along, stay.. Alex took the poster down and folded it, quickly finding a place for it in one of her pockets.

„Yeah, Paul?” The skin on her left cheek pinched a little. It had no right to, seeing as the scar was quite old, but the nickname always managed to embarrass and annoy the woman at the same time.
„Crawl up on that hill and check out everything. I don’t want any surprises.”

Play along, stay strong, cut off his dong. Gosh, she almost had a tune to it now!

Getting to the top was a matter of minute, maybe even less, but Alex ended up winded anyways. Not eating properly, not sleeping properly, having to deal with this prick – everything had its price. With a beaten sigh she grabbed her rifle, the softness in her moves fooling most of those who saw her with the weapon for the first time, and brought the scope closer to her eye. Normally there was nothing. Vast zero of nothing. Just dry land, dust and an occassional city on the horizon.

But this time there was a man and a kid.
 
The house appeared nice enough, hopefully the people inside would be too. Dex approached the house slowly and hollered, “Hey is anybody in there?” Silence was the answer. “I don’t mean any harm, just looking to see if you have any supplies to trade or a spare bed.” There were a few moments of tense silence then an elderly looking man with a shotgun pointed right at Dex came out and hollered back, “What the hell do ya want?” Dex took off his gas mask and said as calm as possible, “Trade or shelter, that’s all.”

The old man seemed to be judging whether Dex was being genuine or not. “We got neither so move along,” the old man said turning away. “Well if you would be willing to spare some food for a traveler it would be most appreciated,” Dex pleaded. The old man turned back and stared at Dex. “I would be willing to work some form of payment out as well,” Dex followed up. The old man gestured for Dex to follow him inside.

Dex sat down to a meal of what he guesses was beans. The old man and his family, a wife, two daughters, and son, ate some type of meat. Dex noted the interior of the house really well. It could fit at least seven people, had a plentiful amount of food, decent amount of weapons, and what more it seemed to be virtually untouched by the wastes. During the meal Dex made small talk to find out about the surrounding settlements, raiders, mercenaries, and scavenging sites. The old man seemed to know quite a lot so Dex figured he must travel around a bit and is probably quite well known around the area. What was more impressive was it seemed that they didn’t have much trouble with attacks since the old man was apparently a capable fighter.

After the meal, Dex was escorted outside by the old man. “Well it was a pleasure having you around young fella,” the old man said, “the family hasn’t been able to interact with many people in a long time.” Dex smiled, “Well it was most appreciated, I was starving, and your family is very delightful.” The old man smiled at Dex. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but If you ever need a place to stay your welcome here,” the old man said putting his arm around Dex and walking off the porch. “Well that’s good to hear” Dex said with a smirk on his face, “I think I’ll take advantage of that opportunity right about… now!

In an instant a bullet went clean through the old man’s head. Dex took his gun, and then searched the body for anything else that could be of use. The others from Dex’s raiding party, Colin, Danny, and William came over to the body as well. “Did I do good, Dex?” Danny asked excitedly. “Very good Danny,” Dex said with a smirk, “The old man was the only one who knew how to fight!” Colin chuckled and asked, “So what now, boss?” Calmly, Dex said, “Go into the house kill the boy and I don’t care what you do to the guy’s wife or daughters, but just make sure the place is kept clean.” Dex chuckled, “We don’t want to dirty up our new house too fast!”

The rest of the guys laughed then headed into the house to check everything out and have fun with their new prizes. Dex, trying to contain his excitement, began shooting into the night sky. He couldn’t wait to see the new challenges and conquests a new territory could bring. He couldn’t wait for the other groups in the wastes to cower in fear of him. He couldn’t wait to crush anyone who stood in his way. He couldn't wait to be the man Vekel had always wanted him to be.

 
A bottle rolled up to his feet, Scotch with a wick stuffed in its neck. Ryan looked up and saw one of the residents of the village he was hired to protect give him a nod. That's what I get for being in the front. He thought to himself and with a sigh, he reached down and picked up the molotov cocktail. Yet, before he lit it up and gave it a toss at his foes, he removed the wick and placed the bottle to his nose. Yup, it was scotch, and after a swift taste Ryan found that it wasn't even that bad.

Despite the fact he found it a shame to waste good alcohol like that, he still remade the molotov and lit the cloth with his cigarette. He nodded at his allies and several seconds later they rose from their cover to give him covering fire. Ryan quickly got to his feet, scanned the area for the largest mass of enemies and with a clean, solid arc tossed the improvised explosive onto a group of three or four young men. The bottle shattered and the liquid caught flame and spread across both the cloth and flesh of his foes. The screams of fear and pain filled the tunnels and those that ran, burning all the way were quickly shot down. Their allies, now heavily outnumbered and fearing a similar fate decided to run for their lives rather than fight for them... They didn't get far.

The contrast was almost ridiculous, where mere moments before the old underground railway was louder than hell with gunshots and screams, now it was dead silent with only the sound of boots walking on rubble to make any sort of noise. The group Ryan was with moved forward, slowly and carefully, scanning over bodies to see if they were truly dead. Ryan did the same, but he spent a bit more time with each body as he was taking whatever was of use from them. He was in luck, the rifleman he was after still had a full magazine in his gun and several spare clips in his pockets. Not to mention that his gun by itself would get a nice price on its own, the same could also be said for all the other weapons he took off the other bodies. At times like this, Ryan was glad he always took an empty duffle bag with him into combat, it allowed for him to carry more loot.

As the young merc checked bodies for survivors and supplies he came across an old worker niche in the side of the tunnel, as he approached it he found a woman cowering behind some chipped concrete. "I found a live one!" He yelled to his allies as he brought the brought his rifle to his shoulder. "Come on, get out." he said to her motioning his rifle to get her out of hiding.​
 
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Jacquline Danielle Blake
Guard for Hire

Jack slept soundly, sitting with her back leaned against the cool stone wall of the old subway line and Deimos curled up beside her, warm with his coarse fur and steady breathing. It felt like she had only just closed her eyes when gunshots tore her from her black dreams. She was greeted with silence, and for half a moment she thought she'd imagined it, that is until the shots began again. Though quiet, they were very real and echoing down the tunnel from the settlement they had camped outside of in order to sleep through the afternoon and continue their trek at night, under the safe cover of darkness. She cursed, and hurried over the other side of their little alcove, shaking her employers awake, "Up, up, now. We need to go, pack up your crap"
The two groggily opened their eyes, a man and woman, the girls eyes fluttered open first, "Is it evening already?"
The mousy girl asked, looking up at her with her brown doe eyes, Jack smirked beneath her mask at the two, glancing from the brute of a man with half a pea for a brain to the petite dame in rags, signalling silence with her finger and pointing at her ears to tell them to listen. At first they started at her confused, but both drew in a sudden short breath and began scurrying to pack their dirty blankets. Jack sat back at watched them, scratching Deimos behind the ears, Phobos was no where to be seen. Her bag was ready, and even though they were still slower than her, they'd improved from when she'd first started with them.


She knew them both rather well, the girl was the most soft spoken thing she'd ever encountered, and her beefy scarred companion was only angered or violent when the girl was in danger. It had taken a bit, but she'd gotten their story out of them, he was a traitor to his scavenging group and she was a runaway slave whom he had promised to save from the cruelty of the raiding group he'd abandoned for her. Through stolen goods they had paid for her help and Jack had done her best to make them vanish, using all her charts to find hovels that would take them and let them start anew, as they seemed to want. Honestly, she felt she should have been rid of them long ago, they had ducked around in ditches and worse places for a month now trying to keep everyone on the planet of their tails and she figured his group would have given up on their search long ago, that is if they had sent out people to find them at all. Mouse and Rat, her nicknames for her nameless guests, fed her to keep her around, just to be safe, and she could hardly say no to food that came with exceptionally low risk for the wastes. Within a minute ans a half both had their bundles over their shoulders, Jack hopped to her feet, scooped her own pack up and whistled for her dog to follow, the other would find them eventually, he always did. Silently the two hopped down from the ledge and began rushing out to the other end of the tunnel, moving as far as they could from the action as quickly as was humanly possible. Jack led the way for the three, following the dim light to the end.

At the first exit they paused to catch their breath, before continuing on to the second. If this was a raider attack, which Jacqueline was inclined to think it was, the exit would be covered soon, if not already in order to catch the runners. The route may have been longer but it was safer, and Jack would take that any day. The trio and her dog hurried up the subways steps, and into the early evening light, running through the abandoned city streets, stepping over cracked pavement, overgrown weeds and hurrying by crumbling or fallen buildings without a second glance. When the stacks of trash and debris on either side of the ruined pavement changed from tall piles of metal and glass to short stacks of wood, brick and other materials they stopped. The once existent suburbs nearest the city crumbled away until the edge of the once great city where the houses resembled such again rather than piles of rubble. After the scattered standing houses the wasteland opened up, ready to swallow any life that wandered into it. By then night was falling, and the group was walking through the side roads with Jacks guidance to avoid anyone scanning the main roads. They stumbled through old alleys, passing half fallen houses before catching a glimpse of the most well kept place Jack had seen, she knew immediately that it wasn't an exception of nature because of the light that gleamed in through one of the windows. She paused, pushing her lips together and debating how likely they were to meet friendly survivors. She and Rat exchanged a look and she gestured at the nearest house, he nodded, leading Mouse behind the structure.

The girl followed, shrugging off her bag and leaving Deimos to guard it and the couple with the. She skulked toward the lit house, observing it and thinking to herself with a sense of approval. This lot was smart to hide so deep in the ruins, though it might be rather lonely without the sense of community the hovels held it made them harder targets for raiders, and a rare find. Jack moved through the backyards of some houses, peering at the place for a sign of danger or hostility, she settled in an overgrown garden across the street from the place, hidden behind a rotted wooden fence that went to the beginning of her lower rib cage if she stood to full height. Silently she waited, and then the door creaked open and two men came onto the porch, they talked, and she didn't catch a word but their voices seemed distinct. One held an air of confidence and youth, the other seemed to have an aged rasp to it, she peered around to see one figure put an arm around the other and walk down the porch steps onto the grass. She figured she'd watched long enough and stood to join the conversation, maybe call out but a shot cut off her greeting. She ducked out of sight, hearing one body slump to the ground. It was silent, until an almost hyper voice piped in, the one from before answered and then another chimed in. The eventual sound of laughter was unmistakable, she stood to peek around, watching three figures happily hopping up the steps to enter the house. A lone figure remained on the porch, suddenly drawing his firearm and firing off rounds into the sky, she could swear she could see him grinning in the dim light given him.
 
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The battle raged on and Josephina was beginning to tire from the men's antics. Yes, she said men. It was known that the tunnels mostly harbored the male population (only laced with females when the dogs got lonely) and Josephina had been the unlucky sap to believe she could take the risk and get out alive with a shit ton of loot. Oh, how wrong the blonde had been. Jo decided a bit of torture was in order for her stupidity and began to tick off the wrong's of the day by pointing at her fingers in order. Index finger first; "I woke up this morning with nothing to do and that usually equals a day full of regret..." She pointed to her middle finger, speaking a bit more harsher, "I decided it was a good day to become greedy and travel into the rat infested tunnels." Next up, her ring finger, "I keep forgetting my rifle is a piece of trash and my mechanical skills are not up to par to even make an attempt at correcting the errors it carries." Jo sighed, completely missing the explosion somewhere beyond her little hide away. Pinky finger; "I do not have the energy to fight off the scoundrels that threaten my life, which, in itself, is a huge threat." At this point, the tunnels had gone silent and the smell of metallic blood began to waft through the woman's nostrils. Josephina abandoned the inner attack on herself (good thing to, her thumb wasn't up for the jab) and decided to peek around the corner to see what the gist was.

"Oh crap..." she hissed between her clenched teeth, reeling her head back and slouching against the wall in defeat. The battle had seized and those that were left decided to check the dead for supplies. Well, I'm not dead... Hurriedly, Jo went for her rifle, bringing it to her chest as she took a position in the niche that could make people assume she was either dead or in hiding. Her heartbeat ran rapidly as her ears strained for any incoming footsteps. A few minutes passed and the crunching of rubble continued, but nobody had seemed to find her just yet. The strap of her duffel bag was fitted tightly against her chest and she thanked herself for preparing an escape earlier before because if she moved now, she would definitely be found out.

"I found a live one!" Jo shuddered, this was the moment... She inhaled deeply and clenched her rifle between her palms as if it may disappear at any moment. Between her yellow locks, Jo could see the bottom half of a man, his large boots, and the end of his own gun. "Come on, get out." The voice continued and Jo took the next few seconds to launch the butt of her rifle straight for the man's knee and flee before anyone even knew what was going on. As she ran (for her life might I add), luck seemed to pity her and the platforms that aided the tunnels came into view. Her pace quickened and the swinging of her bag at her hip seemed to fade away as she continued her grand escape, shouting, "Laters baby!" over her shoulder with great enthusiasm.
 
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As the cowering bitch's gun flew against his kneecap, a slight cracking sound could be heard accompanied by Ryan yelling "WHORE!" as he stumbled back clutching his knee. She was fast, he had to give her that, but he had seen faster people in the past and had yet to see one able to outrun a bullet. As his allies started shooting at the running blonde broad, the young medic rolled on his chest and placed his rifle to his shoulder. He was essentially creating a tripod with his elbows and the magazine of his gun, providing a steady gun to shoot more accurately. Ryan wasn't in much of a mood to waste ammo, but she cracked his knee so he couldn't run after her and he also wasn't one to easily forgive and forget as long as debts are left unpaid. He aimed at her leg, exhaled, held his breath and gently squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet flying toward her.
 
As the bullets began to flurry around Joe she sped up and decided to take the zig-zag route to avoid as many of the little suckers as possible. Unfortunately, she was no Wonder Woman and a bullet grazed through her bicep, causing a yelp of pain to exit her clench teeth. "Damnit!" Tears began to prick behind her eyes, but the platform was even closer now and the prick's behind her weren't the best shots. Her breathe became ragged from exhaustion and she nearly toppled over as another bullet whizzed through her hair and caught her ear as clean as a whistle. This sudden shot of pain caused her to stumble over her own boot and the third bullet to pierce straight through the back of her calf. "Holy fuck..." The pain became unbearable and she was just about to lay there when the platform suddenly appeared beside her (had she really kept running?) and she hurriedly swung herself over the edge and out of view.

Once the bullets were no longer threatening to take off her head, Joe sat with her back against the wall and her rifle to her chest. She was prepared to take another man's knee cap right off if they came close enough. She was prepared... Until, black spots began to cover her vision and the sudden need for sleep overwhelmed her. Blood was pooling beneath her right calf and the sticky red substance clung to the left side of her head. A ringing sound echoed around her before she slowly began to close her eyes. "Shit... shit..."
 
The blonde broad went down harder than expected, at first Ryan wasn't sure he even hit the damn bimbo until he saw the trail of blood. The young merc only fired once, he didn't want to waste a single bullet more than that, but those around him were a bit more flexible with their ammo consumption. Using his rifle as a crutch he got to his feet, his kneecap aching like hell, and reached into one of his belt pouches to take out a small box of painkillers, they were the cheapest he had, sure, but they were painkillers still, though they would work better if he had some caffeine to wash it down with.

As his allies began walking back to their own little outpost, Ryan headed toward the place the girl went down thinking she probably had a decent amount of supplies he could take, maybe she even had some morphine or sterile medical equipment. Oh, a boy could dream. As he walked over what would ultimately be that stupid girl's resting place, the painkillers actually began kicking in and numbing the pain on his knee, at least a bit, and honest to God, Ryan actually did a little hop of joy. Sure, if anyone saw him he'd say it was to test the pain in his knee, but in truth it was because today had been a lucrative day; besides all the guns and ammo he picked up, a fat reward waited for him back at the village that hired him. Food? Ammo? Medical supplies? Maybe they'd even slip in one of the village women in his bed.

As he mused over what his reward would be, he approached the end of the tunnel. Unsure whether or not his latest gunshot victim was either dead or simply wounded, he proceded with caution. Gun raised he came from around the corner only to find her not moving in a pool of her own blood. The first thing he did once he got close enough was give her a kick on the leg, when she didn't do anything he simply took her rifle and put it with the rest of his loot. Though, when he began patting her down for other stuff he found something rather strange. "Good lord, you're still alive. Tenacious girl." Ryan got to his feet and placed the business end of his rifle to her head, yet... found himself unable to pull the trigger.

Perhaps it was the fact that he'd done enough killing for the day, perhaps it was the combination scotch and painkillers in his system or perhaps its just that he found it his duty as one of the few skilled surgeons in the wasteland to patch this young girl up. It were probably the painkillers and scotch. Lucky for her, her wounds were minor at best; two flesh wounds in the leg and some damage to the ear, but nothing someone with at least minor needling skill couldn't fix back up. Except for the ear, for that he used some gauze and tape. The whole reason she passed out was probably because of a combination of bloodloss and exhaustion.

Ryan wasn't eager to use his tools, especially since he was running so low on them that they could all fit in his belt pouches, but at least she saved him the trouble of using morphine or any other painkiller since she was passed out after all.​
 
It was only a few moments of unconsciousness, well Joe hoped, and then her eyes fluttered slightly. Maybe it was her own personal will not to die in the is subway tunnel or the fact some grimy guy had his hands all over her. She attempted to swat his hands away, but the spot returned around her vision and she nearly lost sight of reality once more. "Paws off..." she muttered, her vision coming back to her full fledge as well as the ability to sort of sit up and scoot back from the man. Her hands immediately flew up to hold her head, trying to steady the raging headaches that was already coming on. Something was missing though... something vital. For a moment, Joe had the morbid though of one of her appendages missing or something of the sorts. With such a thought like that she quickly began to blink back any pain in her frontal lobe and pat down her entire body. "What did you do!?" she growled, her head beginning to spin as her brain woke up to it's full extent.

After a second of frantic searching, Joe was relieved to find out that she had two arms, two legs, two feet, and a pair of wonderful boobs. But she was still well aware of the man in her little bubble. A quick look towards him and the outline of her own rifle registered in his hand. "Hey!" she shrieked, trying to swipe the weapon out of his hand, but to no avail. She had scooted away and the bloodless she endured was still causing her head to feel like it was full of cotton balls. "Look I kind of need that to blow out your other knee, so hand it over bub..." She put on a hard face (despite the fact that it probably wasn't as hard looking as it normal would be) and put her palm out to take the gun.
 
"See, that's too bad since I just took this as payment for patching you up. This one..." He pressed his finger down hard on the wound in her calf in order to cause her as much pain as possible "is mine, so that was free, the rest weren't." Ryan got to his feet and swung the duffle bag filled with loot over his shoulder. "If you can make it to a safe place then you'll be fine after a few days rest and some proper meals, after that you'll be able to walk around properly with the use of painkillers." From one of his pouches he took out a box of aspirin and tossed it in her lap. "Here, chase these down with some coffee or pop and they'll serve you well as decent pain medication." The thing about pre-war food supplies is that they pumped them all so full of preservatives that even after almost two hundred years a lot of canned or extremely sugary consumables were still edible, if a bit lacking in flavor, provided they remained sealed. "And please, hold off on the gratitude, I'll guarantee that's not really a reason I get out of bed in the morning."​
 
The sudden stab of pain in her leg almost made her pass out again, but she quickly held her tongue and focused on the man. He continued to talk and talk... She finally had enough. Her hands caught the bottle of aspirin clumsily and then she slowly slipped her legs over the platform edge so she could try her best to stand. It seemed the bullet had not taken anything important out of her calf, but it did sting like hell. A low hissing sound came out from between her teeth when she applied pressure to the ball of her foot. "Look, thanks for the parade back there and the nice rainbow band-aids, but I need my stuff back," her voice was shaky as she gripped the aspirin with one hand the the edge of the platform with the other. There was no way she was going to let this guy go with her only rifle.

"I'd be happy to give you a few items that you may need, other than that I need everything in that bag." Joe stood up a bit straighter, keeping her leg a bit elevated off the ground so the spots didn't return. This wasn't something she was going to back down from. The man's friends seemed to have disappeared so it was just them too-- if this guy cooperated she really wouldn't take out his other kneecap. She sighed, "Keep the gun. Just give me my duffel bag..." she put her palm out, keeping her eyes locked with his so he knew she meant business.
 
Kate heard gunshots nearby, making her tense up. Her bright blue eyes flicked over to the direction of the unsettling noise, her grip tightening on the riser of her compound bow. It wasn't her favourite, but it was better suited for her purposes than Ebony was. But this was heavier, more complicated, and heavens forbid she dry fire it. The poor thing could splinter into pieces... but nonetheless, it was more powerful and that was necessary right now, especially for long distance shooting. A small group of bandits had been trailing her for a few days and she was planning on getting rid of them and looting their corpses.

She nocked one of her carbon fiber arrows, clipping the release onto a small loop on the bowstring. Once the bandits were in her sights, she drew the bow with a steady hand, taking a calm, deep breath. Just one more step and... down the bastard went with a satisfying thud and inaudible gurgle! Score! She ducked behind cover to stay hidden from view.
 
"Your stuff? Your dufflebag? See here, bitch, I don't know if you're delusional or simply bonkers, but all this stuff is mine. I shot your friends back there, so all the stuff that was previously theirs became mine by international law of go fuck yourself. What are you gonna do with a sac full of guns anyway, you can barely carry those tits of yours at this point." and with that he turned and began walking away, she had wasted enough of his time already. As he slowly moved away from his former patient, he took out his cigarettes again and had another smoke. Smoking set his mind at ease, especially when leaving behind someone who's probably going to open their stitches in the next few days and bleed to death somewhere in nowhere. It didn't matter, it wasn't his problem anymore.
 
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Kate peeked out from behind cover to find the bandits panicking and looking around frantically with their rifles. They'd lost a member and finally noticed it. When both had looked away from her eagle eyes, she quickly fired off another arrow, this one making one cry out in pain. Ouch! Right in the shoulder blade... She was lucky enough to duck into cover when the other began to fire, the pop! s of the gunfire echoing around her. Her heart beat out of her chest, Death narrowly avoided like that one awkward relative at family gatherings.

She shook her head in disbelief. "What a waste of good ammo," she sighed. She took a calming breath and didn't dare look out from her shelter, lest she be spotted and get more holes put into her than Swiss cheese.
 
The hot surge of anger that rushed through Josephina almost knocked her off balance. She hurriedly looked around the area for the heftiest rock possible and when it was found she didn't hesitate to chuck it at the douchebag. "Look here, asshole," she sneered, hobbling slash stomping over to him so she could put him in his place. Sure, they were living in a fucked-up apocalyptic world, but she had never met someone so neurotic. She blocked his path, the anger flowing through her veins kept her leg from buckling beneath her as she poked at the man's chest, "They weren't my friends so I don't give two shits about their lives, but I had valuable items in my duffel bag and last I had it was after one of your lackeys shot me!"

Here glare was heated and she couldn't help the shakiness that had overcome her hands. "I also don't trust that you did my stitches right and there is a kit in my bag. I'd rather not walk away from this pity party just to die from an infection because you don't know what the hell you are doing." She kept her eyes locked with his, the smoke billowing from his cigarette encircling them both and making Joe's stomach churn. Usually, she would've walked away from something like this, but either she was hoping to get put out of her misery or she was desperate for any human interaction. It was probably the latter... Nobody wanted to die when they had already come so far.
 
As the rock clashed against the back of his head, the thing that Ryan was most angry about wasn't the act itself, nor was it the pain that it created at the back of his skull, but the simple fact that when the stone hit, his cigarette was knocked out of his mouth and straight into the decaying corpse of a rat. If it had landed literally anywhere else he wouldn't give half a shit, but no, straight into the maggots on a corpse. Even worse, the soon-to-be-dead bitch that caused it had the balls to then stand before him and lecture him, HIM, on whether or not his stitches were done properly.
"That was my one of my last cigarettes..." he paused and began moving his hand back and forth over his mouth. "Do you know how hard it is to get cigarettes in this day and age? It's not like they make them anymore." He turned to her and grabbed her by the neck. "How about this: Since you don't like my stitches in your wounds, how about I replace them from your leg to your mouth? Something tells me I'll do the whole world a favor."
 
The sudden pressure of his meaty beef patties around her throat caused the breath to escape her, but she regained her composure and grasped his wrists to relieve some of the compression. For one, his sweat smell was rolling off of him in waves and Joe couldn't keep the bile from rising up her throat, but she quickly gulped it back down and gave him a sneer. Secondly, how dare he threaten HER. She began to see red, "I'm sure you would if you actually did the stitches correct this time," she spat at him, wiggling her fingers beneath his thumbs and pulled them backwards so they would eventually touch his wrist in the most painful and uncomfortable way. "I keep packs of cigarettes in my bag for trade. If you help me find it I would be happy to give you some as thanks for your half-ass job." She continued to pry his thumbs back, hoping he would release her. Man, this dude was relentless and harbored a very short fuse.

Hmm, reminded her of someone she knew well. Regardless, he was starting to get in her personal bubble and she really wished he would get himself under control. Something tickled her hearing for a second though and for a moment she swore there was another array of gunshots being distributed not far from them. "Did you hear that?" she asked innocently.
 
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