Fantasy Kaizoic: First Emergence

[Da Doofus]

“Eh?” Jacob glanced at the back of the truck and widened his eyes. “Oh well lookie there.
Hell if I know there, young fella. This ain’t me truck.”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic wasn't surprised by the response. The world he lived in was a take what you can get world, even in the cities. Vic personally was no stranger to theft often taking things from peaple who had wronged him in the past. Suddenly he remembered the blinking device he glimpsed on the bottom. Hiding his apprehension he asked.

" The individual you took it from, are they dangerous, are you not worried he or she might track you down somehow?"

 

[Da Doofus]

“Oh come on.” Jacob laughed. “The fella was drunk off his ass when I swiped the keys. Dumb bastard has no idea where this tub is.”

They passed a shredded piece of tire on the roadside.
Jacob glanced at it, and kept driving.

“Lot of wrecks around here lately.” He commented. “Heard there’ve been some folk goin missin’ too. Weird times since the Republic took over.”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic was unsure if he should reveal that there was a tracker underneath the vehicle. But the mention of wrecks and missing peaple forced his attention.

"It's not the Republic" Vic blurted.
"There are creatures out here, I don't know what or where they are but these creatures killed the guards from the jail i was in, and another destroyed the bus i stole."
Vic hoped the fear in his words held weight enough to at least gain his captors attention.

 

[Da Doofus]

Jacob looked at Vic with a raised brow.
“I think you been out in the sun too long, fella.” He said and kept his pace.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic sat back and tried to relax. Memories of the encounters came to the forefront of his thoughts. Vic was no coward but he had no desire to meet another one of them. The occasional wrecked car and the constant state of post war ruins greeted his gaze as he looked out the window.
"How long to our destination?" Vic asked.

 

[Da Doofus]

“There’s a fuel station a few miles where I’m headed. Gonna cash in on the drunk bastard’s stuff for a mint.” He grinned and reached underneath his seat to take out a distinctive helmet.
“I mean you don’t see these anymore.”

The head armor was that of a North American rebel soldier from the war. When the Republic spread, the remaining governments that didn’t join fought against it for continued independence. The American War of Insurrection. The rebels built their helmets distinctively, which lead to the nickname Guerrilla Knights since they looked similar to medieval helms.

“Bastard was probably a rebel or at least supported em. Between that and the guns, I’ll be cashin in.” Jacob continued with a gap-toothed grin.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

With the new information regarding the victims identity Vic decided now was the time. With the owner of the truck being a rebel soldier or affiliated with them he needed Jacob to be prepared. Rebel soldiers were notoriously ingenuitive and stubborn.

"Theres a tracker on the bottom of this truck, if this belonged to a rebel then we need to be either far away or prepared. I'm a republic citizen he would most likely kill me thus robbing you of your pay."

Vic knew this guy wasn't his freind but the incentive to keep his next meal ticket alive would help sway his opinion.

 

[Da Doofus]

Jacob looked at him.
“Well if you’re right, then I’ll ditch the truck at the station and hitch a ride to the outer city.” He explained and sniffed.
***************
The fuel station was a modern example of Republic expansion upon what came before. It was a gas station for all intents and purposes, but built to double as a rest stop and repair shop for travelers and the new vehicles seen in the world.

“We’re here.” Jacob said, pulling in to park. “I’ll be grabbing a bite to eat if you’re interested.”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

"Just something small to eat and a drink if it's not too much to ask. Also im gonna change into something else from the truck, this orange jumpsuit sticks out like a sore thumb and id rather not draw any unwanted attention." Vic responded.

 

[Da Doofus]

“Some clothes in the back.” Jacob pointed to the backseat. “Come inside when you’re done.”
He stepped out and took the truck’s ignition chip with him.
“Just in case.” He scowled, putting the plastic key in his pocket.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic quickly got dressed into the spare. He was now dressed in a white tunic with black pants and black leather boots. He wished he had a hat but the only thing available was cowboy hats and that wasn't his style. Content with what he had on Vic got out of the truck and walked into the rest stop.

 

[Da Doofus]

The tunic was slightly too big for Vic, so it hung loosely past his waist. Once inside, Vic would be swept into an interior air of cigarette smoke and beer and an unkept trading station that bore occupants across the Roads.
Drifters, travelers, and unsavory characters sat at various tables drinking cheap beer or whiskey. Jacob was talking with the shopkeep on the opposite side of the bar, and given the exchange of the truck’s keys for a credit chit it could be inferred that he had just sold the stolen vehicle.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic made his way towards Jacob. He got a few glances as he walked across the bar but most of the folk ignored him. Vic felt at ease, while it was a bit more rough and tough the bar life was what he was proficient at. Once he made it to Jacob he asked.
"So what now?"

 

[Da Doofus]

“Now?” Jacob pocketed the credit chit and eyed for a free table. “I’ll be grabbin a bite and phonin’ for some Republic Patrolmen to come snag ya’s.
Maybe they gives me that reward ye mentioned earlier, eh?” He smirked and patted his holstered gun.
“Have a seat, boyo.”

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

"Well damn" Vic replied " I was just starting to like you."
He sat down at the table opposite of Jacob. Vic was eager to get back into the city, even if it was in the back of a officers car. He looked around, these peaple had no idea what was out there, he almost felt sorry for them. Silver lining, with all this potential prey walking around he should have plenty of time to warn the right peaple back in the city.

 

[Da Doofus]

A glass mug of beer and a plate of rapidly prepared food consisting of beef and potatoes was brought to Jacob and he quickly began eating his fill. Nothing was brought or even offered to Vic from his captor, and it would become more clear that Vic was still a prisoner unable to escape.

Almost half an hour passed and the sounds of the rest stop were filled with murmurs of conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the filling of drinks. A break in the stagnant atmosphere arrived when a small vehicle pulled up to the fueling pumps. A man came out of the driver’s seat, as did a bearded passenger who exchanged a credit chit with the vehicle owner. Clearly a hitchhiker who requested to be dropped off at the station.
The passenger started approaching the rest station.

The window to the outside was dirty, so no striking details could be made about the man aside from the blurred dull colors of a poncho and the greying tint of his hair and beard.
Jacob glanced up from his third beer and widened his eyes at the encroaching stranger.

“oh fuck.” He cursed under his breath before ducking behind the table, knocking over his chair.
“You say anything about me, and I’ll shoot your balls I swears it, I do.” He threatened Vic as the stranger opened the door.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic took the opportunity to slide what remained on the plate to his side of the table. Taking a few bites he eased himself into the role of a patron of the bar. He paid no attention to the stranger and acted as if everything was completly normal. He sat back and took a small sip of the beer to add to the appearance. Vic felt like he was back to his old self even if he had a gun pointed at his nether regions.

 

[Da Doofus]

The man was older than Vic, at least in his mid 40’s, and looked to have lived a weathering life. His face was wrinkled around his eyes, and his scraggly beard and unkept hair bore tints of grey amidst the overall dark brown color. His eyes were a hazel color and fiercely glaring as he scanned the room.
Clearing his throat, he approached the bartender.

“What’ll it be?” The man behind the counter asked.

“I’m lookin’ for a sunovabitch.” The bearded stranger proclaimed in a deep voice like gravel.

The barkeep shrugged. “Plenty of those out here, I’m afraid.”

“Well this one sounds like this.” The stranger pushed a button on his right arm where a digital device was attached to an armored plate.

‘Hey boyo, wake up.’ Jacob’s voice came through via recording.
What followed was a brief replay of he and Vic’s first conversation.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic appeared to show no interest in the newcomer but paid attention to everything that was said. Internally Vic was sweating, knowing that the stranger knew his voice and would connect the dots if he approached. Vic knew he couldn't run, and he couldn't just outright give up Jacob. It seemed either the stranger would shoot him or Jacob would shoot him. While the inner turmoil racked his brain outwardly Vic was calm as a breeze completly at ease in the bar.


Suddenly he had an idea on how to save himself. He owed Jacob no favors, while he didn't do anything against Vic not offering up any food was a sure fire way to earn his spite. Getting on the strangers good side could lead him to being in a better position. Vic reached for the salt and pepper shakers on the table and quietly unscrewed the tops while sipping on the beer to appear normal. Once that was done he waited for what would happen next.

 

[Da Doofus]

“Well not really much to go on from just a recording, sir.” The barkeep replied with no small amount of disinterest. “What makes you think these men are here?”

“‘Cause that goddamn truck outside is mine and was stolen from me.” The man sneered with a finger aimed at the welded plate vehicle outside.

The bartender glanced out the window at the truck in question. “Any proof of ownership?”

As though a reflex, a digital contract of vehicular ownership was brought out via pocket holographic display device.
“Authorized by a Republic pencil pusher and all. Now who . . . Came in here . . . with that truck?” The man asked with rapidly fading patience.

The barkeep was now a bit intimidated by the greying drifter’s attitude and glanced over his shoulder to where Vic sat.
With one eye squinted and a dagger-eyed scowl, the rightful owner if the truck turned to see Vic.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

At that moment Vic felt goosebumps on his arms. He felt like the eyes of a angry god had just turned on him, and there was nothing he could do to avert their gaze. Vic picked at what was left of the food on the plate trying his best to remain calm and poised. He knew it was only a matter of time before the stranger approached him.

 

[Da Doofus]

The stranger began stomping toward Vic with boots loudly thumping against the polished wood. Beneath the poncho, Vic would hear the jingling of bullets inside of pockets and on his left side hung a sheathed knife from his belt.
Within moments, the man was standing over Vic and a few of the other patrons relocated to other parts of the bar after overhearing the situation.

The man squinted one eye and frowned at Vic.
“That’s my shirt.” He spat.

 

[Raggle the Fraggled]

Vic looked up at the stranger with a nervous smile.
"So it is, but I'm sure thats not all your gonna ask me." Vic replied.

At the same time Vic reached for the salt shaker and unhinged its top from the grooves.

 

[Da Doofus]

“Ok then I’ll get to the point.” The man glared. “Where the fuck is the other one, and which one of you has my keys?” He tossed away a flap of the poncho on the right side to show a holstered pistol that was definitely a non-ballistic model. Energy weapons were still fairly new so such a firearm was exceptionally rare, and given the make and model, this particular one was not a black market knockoff either.