Worlds, among other things. Post-apocalypse RP with Lotherio & Cosmic

[Cosmic]

"...So then when they ran away from the flare I was free to collect. A couple of mamas made it a bit difficult, but luckily I didn't break anything, skinned my knees something fierce but not to worried about infection from that wine you got me. " She finished her story with a toothy grin and a nod, before gulping down a small glass of what looked like purple oily water. It was one of the few reasons she came to the bazaar today, the other was the fact the city kids were due to show and she never missed out on showing them they were not welcome here. Currently, she was sitting on an overturned crate next to a couple of lonely old men who were guffawing over her story, and were more than a little generous with their alcohol. And even though the evening bazaar held many colors, shapes, and people, none could say that Nat-Vee was "blending" by any means.

Firstly she was tall for a woman, nearly six feet, with wide bright sky blue eyes that heavily contrasted her dark dirty exterior. Her skin was naturally a coppery color, but combined with her near-permanent tan and grime it looked darker, particularly in her face in hands. Her hair was the truly strange thing as she had it cut short on her left side, but the semi-curly black locks on her right were braided over her head like a crown and clipped to the left behind her hair with a shiny piece of metal. Most women in this area kept their hair long if an adult, or shaved if a child. Nat was an interesting combination of both. Even her dress seemed confused as to whether or not she was a child or a woman by the villages standard. She wore simple denim pants--no cheap buy for anyone--but also a faded purple web-skirt that served no real purpose beyond looking strange. Her shirt was a simple red tank top, despite the risk for sunburn, she just liked showing off the long violet-gray scar that ran from the top of her shoulder by her neck and curved all the way down to her elbow.

Despite her wild, and even vaguely risque, attire no villager really paid her notice. Those who knew the traveler gave her a wave of hello, and those who didn't rightfully guarded their goods. She didn't seem to mind to much, her large green bag sat near her right side, and another back sat near left, that although looked relatively new and well kept, had the distinct smell of dung about it.

"So anyway, Dif, about that rifle you had. I got fresh grade A pure pig shit to trade. as I already said, I nearly died collecting it, but i'll give you a whole twenty pounds flat for one rifle and a box of rounds." she said setting her cup back down. "Plus it's wild so you know it's good. Monsoon season is soon and you can't convince me that you don't need some fertilizer for your crop. Plus, twenty pounds for one gun and some rounds? I'm one generous fool."

"Nat, I would...but I already traded it." The old man nearest to her said slowly. "And for a better deal than yours to boot! damn city boys no nothing about bartering around here!" He started to laugh with the other man but Nat's eyes narrowed.

"What was the deal?"

"A gallon of water, a two pound block of salt, and--and Nat, he gave me salt and--a yard of city-grade denim." The pair broke up laughing as Nat fumed. She risked her life to get enough dung to make a reasonable bargain for the gun, and this guy, this city boy, ends up make an offer three times better than anything she could ever come up with? She was close to murderous.

"So you are saying, that I spent the rest of my flares and nearly died, to collect the pig shit you requested...just to get out bidded by...by..." She slammed her fist on the table, causing the men to just laugh louder. She sighed. No point in getting angry. Fertilizer, salt, water, denim...she had all of these things in a well enough stock to where she could get enough food for two months of travel, enough water for a few weeks, and a few parts for Betsy. It would be a good run, a good stop. Profitable even considering the fact that with the creek in the area, she could wash out the dung-bag and haul extra stuff that rightfully belong to her, yet somehow was in other people's packs.

She got up without another word, hauling both of the bags in tow. Her main one was on her back by one strap, and the one with dung she held in one hand as she checked out the venders and made scary faces at the few city people she saw. She had to go to the fruit stand first, the dried fruits and nuts there being the cheapest but lightest subsistence available for the long journey ahead of her. Where she was going she didn't know, but that little encounter, despite the free alcohol, was enough to turn her pleasant mood sour and make communication with people...difficult to say the least. By the time she made it to the fruit stand she already had a small bag in her other hand that had tiny pieces of rock salt, shiny stones to be used as weight or jewelry, and a couple of swatches of fabric. Some called it stealing, but Nat called it scavenging. It was just little things taken from a lot of people in small enough quantities that added up into half the price for four pounds of fruit and nut mix.

It was then she noticed a city-boy near a vender next to her, carefully looking at the greasy nuts and bolts the man was showcasing as if there was some secret message in them. Normally Nat wouldn't have cared, but it was the fact she could see plain as day, her gun slung across his back that was the final straw as she emptied the large baskets of food into an inner pocket of her pack. She was going to get her gun, and compensation for it's original loss too, whether this city boy knew it or not.

 

[Lotherio]

It wasn’t the best place to live, but Cid Chavez would rather have this small hovel of an apartment in the city than be stuck out with the squatters. Sure, they had homes and whatnot, but it was basically like living out in the wastelands anyways. Here he had some power, though on power rations, he could still turn on a light at night and see around. Hell, he even had hot water from time to time, nothing like a good shave. That and he had a bed even, not some cardboard pile that looked like a rats nest that he’d seen some of the squatters using before on one of his occasional trips out past the walls.

That’s what he did, it was his job to go out there and get what his employer needed. Good old Partisan’s Corp., they cared because they needed something from you as Cid liked to think of them. Didn’t bother him much, he could get that something and they kept him in a decent lifestyle. He even lived in the megatower that the real wealthy called home. Ya, he lived in the lower 20 floors where the lapdogs of the wealthy tended to stay, maintenance wasn’t the prettiest, and some of the common halls, lounges, and gathering spaces contained colorful urban art by some non-commissioned artist of the night – it was still better than the people living in the smaller towers of the city or worse, street level. He could almost see the sun set on the horizon form his home on the 13th floor – if he went to the widows at the end of the hall and looked through the hollowed shells of a couple smaller towers in city central.

Not that it crossed his mind as he double checked himself in the fairly good mirror he had, shining pleasantly under the purring florescent light he had above it – the light was in such good shape that it only flickered once or twice in a five minute time span. Standing at just under six feet in height, the hair atop his head gave him a couple extra inches if he spruced it up some – the sides kept shorter just because he liked to be clean. He needed new razors, so his face was a little stubbly, but he was going out to the edge of the squatters, he might as well rub pig shit all over and throw on some colorful rags for clothes. It wasn’t the edge of the city, were people squatted in the buildings just inside the gates, it was the true edge, the edge of the wastelands, where people tended to trade with those idiots who travelled the barrens, who visited other cities, the real hicks.

Jacket on, he wore a decent shirt underneath, white, and this over some blue denim pants with only a few holes worn into it. His feet were strapped into some steel toe boots with only a little hole at the part where his toes curled. There was a holster under his jacket holding a pistol and a sheathed knife. Pretty concealed, but his true weapon for this job was the gun strapped to his back. It was in a shoulder strap sling carrier, easy to pull out when needed.

With his appearance in order, he checked the bed; ammunition a plenty, camping gear, old maps, numerous canteens of water, packaged dried foods from years ago that was still good, a small music player with fancy screen, sunglasses, a compound bow and arrow in case he needed to actually *ick* hunt for food, a small gas grill, some cans of gas, and such. It was all there, everything he would need to survive in the barrens. And it only took him a couple of trips to get it all down to his car.

He had a gate pass, kept tucked into his pocket, but they knew him - as much as he left the city. Everything in order, he sped out of the garage, through the streets, out to the gate, shared a joke with the guards about going into the wilds, and headed out through the small buildings and into that area which once served as private dwellings and homes - out until he finally made it out to the bazaar. No way they’d let him bring the car in, too much foot traffic, so he ducked it behind an old metal carrier that at one time was used to actually collect garbage. He was sure no one would mess with it, and left on foot with pistol tucked in, his rifle, and his wits. All he needed to survive out here.


He was going to find a cantina to see about anyone who’d heard of a city called Zana Du’Radu, a long shot, even this far in the city he was pretty sure it was only a fable out here. Even if his employer insisted there was technology there that would help the city’s food situation, he wasn’t sure it existed, not until he’d seen some of the technology Mr. Smith showed him. But before he could find a watering hole to listen to rumors, he’d stumbled on the parts dealer with his nuts and bolts. Knowing a thing about cars, he might find a few parts here for his Ute, or at least something working.

Holding up a gasket, he was asking, “You sure I can file this out and put it over the cylinders – it’d help alright, oil isn’t cheap and I don’t need sand getting in the engine the same ….” The vendor, as greasy as his parts, laughed deeply, “It’ll fit if y’know what’cher doing slicker.” Cid pursed his lips at that thought even, he know what he was doing, he was more worried how long the slightly used part would hold up for the journey ahead. Moving to duck in, the butt of his rifle hit the top of the vendors front awning, so, he took it out and set it at his side, leaning it against the table so that he could get a better look at the gasket. Using one finger, he ran it along the outer rim, “It could work, but I don’t know how long this seal would hold out there,” pitching a thumb over shoulder to indicate the area beyond squatter-ville, “I could trade, but it ain’t worth what you’re asking, you’d have to come down a bit.”

 

[Cosmic]

Now, it wasn't polite to eavesdrop on conversations--Nat was generally pretty good about being polite--but it was the sound of pure and complete arrogance that made her break said politeness. What the hell did that Slicker think he was doing? That was Barns selling him parts. Barn's parts were almost as good as her own, and any slicker who bitched about unfair deals with Barns instantly ended up on her personal list of people who need to be stabbed in the eye. It wasn't as if the City boy knew what he was even talking about...he didn't have to salvage shit in his life. She popped her knuckles handed back the baskets to the girl running the fruit stand before moving near Barns. Luckily, the ever careful Barns saw her long before Cid did.

"You lying two face bitch! How dare you come near me!"

"Hey Barns, nice to see you too." Nat replied, not to gently swinging her bag of dung and pushing it into Cid's arms, the force of it pushing him back away from the rickety metal table the grease monkey's goods were on, and making him drop the gasket. "This slicker giving you a hard time? I'll take care of it if you cut me a sweet little deal here."

"Nat-Vee, I will personally run your ass over if you keep up with that mouth, now what in the blazes do you want!" the merchant roared, obviously not amused. Nat sighed. It was funny, you cheat one deal--one deal--for the good for the rest of the village, and you are remembered as a two face. She wished she cared.

"Honestly, all I wanted to point out is that you are being ungodly stupid to call me a thief, but have this boy bitch about your beyond fair deals. I mean, one gear head to another, you know how hard it is to get parts. I mean your village is way out over in the Pacific Rim. If it's not the damn vines trying to kill you it's the yellow-skins. Am I right? Just trying to help an old friend out."

"You ain't tellin' the truth Nat. Now get out of my sight before I take away yours. You don't want no deal. Everyone knows why you were coming today, and everyone knows what you want. I ain't got it."

"Fine, Fine. Whatever. But I'm taking the slicker to talk business. He was right, a canteen of water for this piece of shit?" Nat said holding up the gasket before giving a low whistle. "Barns, there is the city tax, and then there is being a crooked bastard. These ain't even your best wears. Oh well." She tossed the part back to the merchant before grabbing Cid's shoulder and steering him away.

They only made it a few feet before she let him go. Damn do city people look odd... she thought to herself shaking her head. "Okay, I saved you from a...bad deal..." Lord, it hurt just to say it. She did honestly like Barns, even if they had a less than pleasant history. She could insult him as a person faster than a snake could shoot venom, but his deals...they were more than fair generally. "Now I'm going to ask you once, and you are going to tell me, where did you get that gun? It was my daddy's and I do not tolerate thieves very well. I know you are a kid and all, so I won't break your face, I just want to know where you got it, and I'll make a deal with you to get it back."

 

[Lotherio]

Taking a proverbial step back, Cid was allowed that opportunity to just take everything in, the interactions between the vendor and the girl. There was a fleeting moment, albeit briefly, were he was wondering if this might be the sort of wanderer he needed, if she was really familiar with the glorious flora of the wastelands, the sort that eats meat, and even some of the mutant humans gone wild he’d hear about – she would be ideal. Then …. and then, there was her mouth. If the weather didn’t kill him, he might shoot himself if she went on this much. The thought was out for the moment, right about the time she was grabbing his shoulder to lead him away.

Though over his other shoulder as he was led away, he offered, “Shoulda stuck with the hard to obtain bit Barns, I might of come up on my offer.” Then a shrug as he turned down to take in this girl before him. He wasn’t fully sure of styles out here in the sticks, but he was pretty sure he’d not seen many women with short hair or girls with long hair and this one, well she was neither. He didn’t know if he should even take her serious but she was being blunt and credit is given were due at least. The only indication he gave to hearing her go on about stealing of guns and her poor dad, something about his face being broken and bartering a deal was that he tightened his lips slightly and smudged them to the right side of his face. The sort of silent, deep consideration of the thoughts she was throwing his way.

Folding one hand over his abdomen, grabbing the elbow of is other and putting that hand, in return, to his chin with one finger extended, he wiggled that finger to ponder, “Now, let me get this straight.” And he continued to tap his chin while he talked. Meanwhile, a couple of old wanderer friends cantered down the street, decked in empty bandoleers, arm in arm singing some old song, sad and humorous all at the same time. Cid paid no mind other than tighten his brows a little to focus on the girl as he continued with what he was getting straight, “This gun, you claim is your dads. This well kept rifle that has probably seen little dust outside the city. And you’re saying I somehow stole it, but you’re willing to make me a deal.” It wasn’t question, just stating the facts.

His finger had enough chin tapping so it moved to nose scratching as he digested what he just reiterated. Then it tapped the nose one time, steadied there a moment before his hand fell into the fold of arms over abdomen and chest. “This rifle was given to me by my employer. He lives back there,” eyes up to the tallest building in the city, “Maybe you should take it up with him, I think he’d love to fill you into an appointment slot, not much color in his office. You could really spruce it up.” That was when he turned and any self preserving survivalist would note the gun was completely slung slicker style, just sitting in the sheath, could as easily be taken right out without him even noticing it by the right pair of hands. He certainly hadn’t spent a lot of time amongst the squatters.

After revealing that evident fact, he did turn over his shoulder to say, “Unless you know something about the city of Zana Du’Radu … in that case, we might be able to work something out in trade. I have more goods in my car.” He pauses, letting some grit creep into his boot through the really small hole, good thing he wore his holy (hole-y) socks today.

 

[Cosmic]

She stared. She knew going in that there was going to be a very tiny likelihood of him actually surrendering his weapon. She underestimated his brain, and over estimated her intimidation factor. Apparently he wasn't new to squatters, still disgusted, but not new. Now if he was anyone else--that is, someone else who wasn't holding what she had been questing after for six months--He would have a broken face and no more supplies. However three things caught her attention all at once.

Firstly, he was an idiot. Anyone could steal his weapon right now, and if she didn't, well it would be impolite to refuse a gift. Second, the fact that he ever so jokingly mentioned her getting into the city, touched on a desire that she would be stupid to admit in the given circumstance. But the thing that really got her, was the mention of Zana Du’Radu. The Squatter city, where the water was clean and animals were safe. A legend that no matter how unlikely, everyone believed on some level.

Perhaps it was part of being human, the idea that somewhere there must be a better place of safety. The thing that felt wrong about it all, was that he was speaking of her legends as though they were some kind of secrets that the squatters were keeping to themselves. It was preposterous, squatters equated Zana Du’Radu with spiritual enlightenment--and of course everyone had different ideas as to what that meant. It was a noticeable silence between the two before she spoke, trying very hard not to lose her temper.

"What do you know of the Shining City is the real question slicker." She spoke, spitting out the insulting slang like bitter acid. "It's not something you have any right to talk about, or even know about. Yet you come to the night bazaar with our Shining City in your head? For most people, it's the knowledge of the city that keeps them alive. Zana Du’Radu is not for city people, you wouldn't understand it." She popped her knuckles trying to hold off the idea of murdering this fool. "About the gun, you are right. My father didn't own a weapon, Vee was a mechanic. But I'm willing to trade the dung for the weapon and whatever ammunition you have. That dung can make you a rich man here, people need it for their crops, and owning animals on this end is unheard of." Her voice lost much of the sarcastic tone it had while she was speaking to Barns. Instead it was low, calculating even. She was a different person now, not someone who would talk herself out of trouble as much as let her specially made brass knuckles beat the trouble out of the way.

 

[Lotherio]

The bottom lip curled on Cid just a little, her answer was fair and straight forward enough, he couldn’t deny. Not that he was looking for dung, but she knew of this city at least. This is what his employer wanted him to do, find it, find the lost technology they housed. Heck, she nearly affirmed by her claims of it being their Shining City. That wasn’t far off from what city folk had believed in the lost city with their own telling of the tales. One hand came out of the fold of his arms then, to sway slightly in front of him when he responded to her.

“You can keep the dung, don’t need it,” her fair response deserved the honest truth at least. “But this Shining City of yours … whether I have the right or not, it is in my head. Its fantasy fills even our own heads in the city but, I have reason to believe it is more than some fable to keep the squatters and filth happy.” As if his weekly shower made him any better than anyone else. “If you know more about this fabled city of yours, we may have something to talk about. I’m not trading munitions or weapons for dung, but knowledge has value. The guns not mine to trade, like I said, you need something else, I have fresh gear out of the city at my car that might be worth something to you.”

It was hers to take as she liked, he didn’t so much wait for a reaction, he didn’t want to stand around for too long. There was no going to the watering hole/cantina/dive now, he’s sure that a few others weren’t taking kindly to his presence and he was starting to think it might be better to get back to the Ute, find some place to park it for the night and get some rest. Maybe he’d find a few more smiles amongst the morning people and land himself a guide who was willing to risk a journey out into the unknown to search for Zana Du’Radu. That thought on his heels, he literally turned them and set his boot to mucking up the dusty path underneath his feet. It was an alley over and behind the old buildings that outlined the Night Bazaar where he had his vehicle parked behind the metal canister.

Unbeknownst to Cid though was that a few local squatters with pack animals had been clever enough to latch a hitch to the chassis and with the right amount of whipping and muttering, those said pack animals were strong enough to pull the vehicle out of its parking brake. It practically served as a makeshift chariot and they could just as easily find a real mechanic to either trade for the vehicle or figure out how to get it started up and working without the keys. Sure, it was a backwards chariot, as the animals drove the tail end of the vehicle first, but the passenger compartment was well suited as a seat plus the semi-clear cover over the back allowed them to appraise the gear locked inside, at least what they could see. Even if no one traded for it, it was top of the line scavenged gear just the same. Hardly much used, probably few holes if any actually. The camping gear could stand up to a sudden downpour even. It was parked out of site, no one questioned them or those that witnessed didn't care if the Slicker lost his transportation. In fact, one little dirt rat went ahead and played lookout for the wanderers for a ration of clean water. It was a good price for literally doing nothing. He only had to run interference when the Slicker returned.