[NU] The Troublemaker [Ru 1.2]

edited June 2014 in nupocalypse
It's high-noon a few days after your little tryst with Harrow and Foster. Word has it they left their little brother in town while they went out to the ruins to "try and make their fortune scavenging" — everyone who repeats it uses Harrow's high-energy tenor. Everyone seems to have a mild interest in her — nothing harmful, just the usual smirks that appear on folks when they spot a young lady with confidence.

You're doing your daily rounds out by what used to be called "Clove Smith Park" — now it's just an empty lot filled with unkempt baseball fields, and a rundown road leading to the old highway. You hear a voice calling out to you from back towards the settlement. It's Prim.

"Rue!" He calls, running up to you, "hey Rue! We got a problem!"

What do you do?


  • [Rue]

    I like Clove Smith. It's purty, alla these fields. Each of 'em got these white discs with sand round it. Looks like some lil dinner plat. An there's these lil benches alla round, like folk came to watch what theyze doin. I slung Shelly over my shoulder, an spent some time lookin out t'wards the hills. Looks like I'm watchin fer movement, but that aint really the truth.

    It aint half bad here in Monroe sometimes, feelin the sun on my face, a lil breeze kicks up, whispers at my neck. I could stand here fer a while. O' course, Prim comes runnin up, talkin 'bout trouble.

    Then again, trouble means jingle. So I turn 'round, lookit 'im. Aint no reason to make 'im run up to me, just so's we turn 'round an head back. So I head t'wards him, lookin' to see if anythins' chasin him or somethin. "What's goin on, Prim?" I'm ready to drop into a run if need be.

    With my armor, I don't move quick too much, but if I gotta, I can do a good jog fer a while. Been goin out on runs inna morning with Thirdie sometimes. He's all quick, while I'm built fer long distance. Most o' the time, he's ahead o' me while we jog. Not that I mind the view.
  • Prim stops running when you turn to meet him, and catches his breath. He's not heavy or anything, but not eating right has definitely taken its toll on him. He starts walking with you, talking. "Fuckin' Doghead, Rue... He says he caught this new guy stealin' his food. They's goin' toe to toe when I left – but I know new guy's packin' heat, and I don't think he much cares if Doghead survives, y'know?"

    How do you feel about Doghead, Rue?
  • edited June 2014

    Doghead? Hell, Doghead's a real bastich. Says he was some bad mamma jamma back inna day, now he's a wrinkly ole cuss. Figger's he'd make a fuss o'er summin stealin' 'is food. An juss like 'im, he's talkin' 'bout it rather than up an doin' it. If I aim to kill summin, I aint jawin'. O' course, since I took Doghead's bullets after he shot at me, he's up shit creek now. Stupid a-hole shootin' at me fer askin' to check out his place.

    Hell, Ize just workin! Wasn't nothin but a check. He's lucky Roark tole me not to kill nobody. Plus, the ole man's wicked with a blade. Carves up some good shit. Back afore he decided to hate on me, he carved my bed frame. Hell far, I love that bed. I mentioned that afore, didn't I?

    "If that a-hole's stealin' food, then we're havin' words." I figger it's goin down at Doghead's, so I pick up to a run, an though my shoulders are chafin somethin fierce. Ima headin to Doghead's right quick, Shelly in my arms. I'll make some peace, or send summin to hell.
  • edited July 2014
    The squabble's happening exactly where you'd expect it, outside Doghead's little shack to the north of the church. You can hear people screaming at each other from down the road, and a small crowd's formed with some folks trying to calm the pair down.

    "Listen here, pisshead," you hear Doghead's high-pitched and scratchy voice call over the din, "ain't nobody here knows you! Nobody give a shit if I just fuggin' gut you, 'n ditch your ugly ass in a ditch! Now gimmie back my fuggin' shit!"

    A younger, more educated voice calls back, "I'm gettin' right sick of you calling me names, old man. Now I done told you I didn't take your damn food. Back the hell off, and I won't be forced to shut you up!"

    Doghead spots you get here out of the corner of his eye, and you hear him mutter, "awe shit. Who called in the fuggin' cavalry?"

    Here's Doghead's shack:

    And here's Doghead, the kind-hearted soul that he is:
    imagesrc="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UZ08fgn9FkE/S8eKrffDbyI/AAAAAAAAAUI/R79rT7tR3zM/s1600/crazy+old+coot.jpg" />
  • [Rue]

    I didn't mention, but I done un-slung Shelly, an I'm carryin her in my arms, left onna shaft, right onna grip. Finger aint nowhere near the trigger, in case I trip or whate'er. But she's out, not on my shoulder. It helps, with "negotiations" an all.

    So's, I come runnin' up, stop short 'bout ten feet o' the two fellas. I give Doghead a look like "I know, I know, 'zactly what I wanna be doin' myself". I look o'er to the stranger, an say, "Hold on a tick, stranger. Let me ask Doghead a few, then I'll come chat with ya, alright?" I ask, but I aint askin'. I give 'em both my "I'm in charge now, so shut up and we'll sort it out" stance.

    I figger new guy aint gonna talk no shit to me, so's I lookit Doghead, "Hey ole timer, Prim said you got some food took? How you know it's this fella? An what'd ya lose?"
  • The new guy takes one look at you, and sees what's up, but Doghead looks as furious and disrespectful as always. "Nobody fuggin' called you out here! This is my fuggin' business! Ain't none of yours! I caught this fugger in my shack, his bag open, red handed. I've been missin' shit ever since this horse's ass showed up. This fugger done walks into my damn shack, and steals my damn property — three cans of beans, two of my fuggin' potatoes, and a pack of cigs — and you're here pointin' a gun at me? Now you listen here, lady! I made you that pretty fuggin' bed you sleep on every night. Now you either tell that shitlicker to give me my fuggin' shit back, or I fuggin' will!."

    The stranger's standing back, but Doghead's provocation clearly got to him. He takes a step forward and answers, "You didn't see shit old man! I tole ya I just showed up last night! How long you been missin' your shit?"

    Doghead's rage knows no restraint. "Whose fuggin' word's that on, dickhead? Yours? Where'd you get that fancy fuggin' pack of cigs, eh? Git over here so's I can kick yer fuggin' ass!"

    The stranger throws up his hands in submission, but you can see his patience is wearing thin. What do you do?
  • [Rue]

    I lookit Doghead level, an answer, "Prim got me out here, Doghead. Yer makin it all our bidness, out here yellin' an threatenin'. Now head on back inside, an I'll jaw at the stranger. Juss gimmie a bit to figger it out." I pause fer a bit, 'cause it takes me a lil to stomach what I'm fixin' to say. I drop my voice a lil, and say, "I'll get yer shit back, if ya juss chill the hell out." Dammit to hell. What the frak am I doin?

    I figger he'll stay here an bitch, er head in. If he stays here, I aint gettin his shit back, Either way, I'll head over to new guy. What's he look like? Ever seen him afore? I lookit the crowd around, an ask, "Hey y'all, anybody seen this feller afore last night?" I'll make eye contact with a coupla 'em. I figger I'll see nods er somethin.

    Then, to stranger, I say, "Alright, stranger, let's walk an talk." I start walkin down the path I took to get here. Shelly's in my arms still. I figger since he aint shot Doghead, he aint gonna give me shit neither. "My name's Rue. What's yers?"
  • Doghead looks like he's going to curse you up and down when you tell him to shut up and let you work, but then you promise to get his shit back. Why don't you give me a manipulate to see if he'll go cool his heels inside?

    Either way, you leave him off to the side to question the new guy. The stranger seems happy to walk away from here. "Name's Shan. I didn't take his damn food..."
  • [Rue]

    Ah hell, a Manipulate?

    I knew this was a bad frakkin idea:
    (Rolled: 2d6-1. Rolls: 6, 5. Total: 10)
  • edited June 2014

    "Rolled into town last night?" I ask. I already expected he didn't take Doghead's shit. I wonder 'bout his purty talkin' though. Where's this boy from? "Where ya come from? Ever met a coupla blondes named Harrow an Foster? Brother an sister, the pair of 'em."
  • Doghead is pissed as all get-out, but he makes his way over to the shack, cursing up a storm. Nobody speaks up in Shan's defense. In fact, most people are looking down at their feet, or away from you when you ask...

    Shan looks over to you and nods in response to your first question, then shakes his head to the second. "I ain't from no-place... I been movin' east a long time," he answers coolly, "I hear tell of good pickin's down in the ruins here. I heard of a Harrow. Didn't know she had a brother... Some words up north about them. Why you ask?"

    This is Shan, by the way (I never said Doghead was a saint):
  • edited June 2014

    He's a bit squirrely, not that I blame 'im. Keeps his shotgun in fair enough shape, which says somethin. "Just checkin on word about 'em. They come 'round a coupla days back, an then headed to the ruins, too, is all. Whacha heard 'bout 'er?"

    I let him tell me whatever about Harrow. She aint my main concern, just figgered I'd ask 'round. I stop walkin', since we're a good distance away from the others. Turn to face 'im, so's Shelly aint aimed at 'im or nothin. "You by yerself, Shan? How'd you end up in this here mess with Doghead, Shan?"

    I'm fixin to get a Read off 'im here.
  • [Rue]

    Read a Person on Shan:
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 1. Total: 8)
  • [Rue]

    Is he tellin the truth 'bout all this?
  • edited June 2014
    Well Rue, Shan's got the body of a man who's walked well over a thousand miles in recent history, and his words come out with the practiced fluidity of someone who either explains himself a lot, or lies through his teeth. As far as you can tell, though, he seems on the level.

    "Jus me," he answers, "word onna street up north is Harrow bedded this big time raider. Had him wrapped around her little finger. Then one day she gets bored with him, or she gets spooked or somethin', puts a bullet in his head when they's bumpin' uglies... Then she turns him over and bolts. I don't much give a shit about her, but you won't catch me in bed with a girl like that..."

    He stops when you stop, eyeing Doghead's shack with a tempered patience. "I's jus lookin' for a place to toss up my boots for a few days. His place looked nice, so I poked my head inna window, and he comes out cussin' me out like I'm some worthless thief." He smiles, "well... Thief to the livin' anyway. I'da walked off, but the fucker started in talkin' about my momma, so I let my temper get the best of me."

    He shakes his head... "I damn near blew that loudmouth's head clear off its shoulders. He comes at me again, and I just might. I ain't got his shit."
  • [Rue]

    When they's bumpin uglies? Shit. Guess I dodged a bullet there, didn't I? She musta taught that raider fella a trick she didn't teach me. Fair enough. O' course, I aint the queen of nothin', nothin' to turn over, neither. Too bad about Foster, wouldn't mind if he stuck around...

    "Fair enough, Shan," I tell 'im, "I believe ya." I lookit 'im fer a bit, make sure I got 'is attention. "I wouldn't go sneakin into houses round here. I can show ya a coupla places to bed down. An fer trade, yer gonna help me find where Doghead's shit is."
  • Shan's face puckers into a sour note, "If it's all the same, I'd just as soon not help that horse's ass. If he's like that with all folks, I don't know why you people suffer him." He sighs loudly and looks around... Good spots are kind of hard to come by. "How you plan on findin' it?"
  • [Rue]

    I give Shan a lil smirk an say, "Shan, ya aint helpin that a-hole. Yer helpin me." I chuckle a lil, 'cause he gave in quick. I didn't even hafta threaten to shoot 'im!

    Well, I got me a lil helper. An I guess I'm frakkin sheriff or somesuch. Monroe's in deep shit now. Can't believe Doghead trusted me when I tole him I'd get his shit back. Only time he ever agreed with anythin' I tole 'im. Lazy ole a-hole

    How the hell am I gonna find Doghead's shit? Where the hell are the smart folks like Robbie, Thirdie an Cinch?

    Frakkin Cinch'd just walk up an ask folks, "Y'all seen Doghead's shit?" And Prim, Roark an the others'd round up a posse an tear Monroe up tryin to find it. Ole Robbie, if he had a mind to give two shits, he'd cook up some Doghead-can-findin device, somethin that makes gawdawful noises and it'll point ya right there. Thirdie? He'd just ask what Doghead lost, then go off an find better shit. I swear, he's the luckiest fella, always scrapin up just the right thing at the right time.

    I aint never gone looking fer shit. I just take what's around, or I make do with what I got. I realize Shan's lookin at me, waiting fer some magic answer to come crawlin outta my mouth. I blow out a breath, shrug. "Well, any folk that stole his shit either got it now an aint traidin fer nothin. Or, they went an hid it." I look 'im over, add, "Bad thing it aint you. Cause that means it's summin local."

    I hitch up Shelly, give Shan a nod with my chin, "C'mon, let's go chat with Prim."
  • Shan still looks unconvinced, but he shakes his head and says, "I suppose havin' one over that asshole might make me feel a little better. Fine. Let's go chat with your man Prim."

    Prim followed you back to the crowd, and turns to meet you when you approach him. "Glad to see you could talk 'em down, Rue. It woudln't do nobody no good to see folks come to lead here in town." He eyes Shan once over, nods to him, then turns back to you. "Somethin' I can do for ya?"
  • edited June 2014

    "This here's Shan, Prim. He come from out west, just got here. He didn't take Doghead's shit like the ole man thinks, an he's willin' to help me find it." I lookit Shan, "Prim here's a good feller. We're neighbors, an he come got me afore y'all's spat got too troublesome. He knows lotsa folks in Monroe." I let say their hi's and what-have-ya's.

    "Prim, I'm fixin' to find Doghead's shit so he'll shut the frak up." I tell 'im all plain. "I figger since it aint Shan, then we got summin 'round here that took the ole man's shit. An that aint good. So... you know o' anybody who might be eatin' real good, or summin that was starvin an now aint? Or... ya know o' any folk who mighta buried the shit around?"

    Damn if I aint awful at this. I can practic'lly see Prim's eyes crossin already. Where the frak is Thirdie?
  • Shan nods to Prim when he's introduced, but Prim doesn't give it much thought. You can tell he's not exactly sure he believes Shan didn't take Doghead's crap, but he doesn't question you. "Folks know not to take each other's shit 'round here, Rue... New guy here, and those three down by the bridge are the only new folks ain't been around long enough to know better."
  • [Rue]

    I hold up a hand, like I know, I know, "So then... mebbe it's Harrow n' Foster? That what yer sayin'? They got a third? Or's there summin else, Prim?"

    I don't wanna go frak with Harrow. Damnit to hell, why didn't I just shoot Shan and be done with this?
  • Prim holds his hands up in defense, "I ain't sayin' they did nothin' Rue... Just sayin' they're new here, and new folks don't always follow the rules, y'know? Harrow 'n that Foster fellow are both out scavin'. They left last night, and they ain't come back yet."

    Shan adds, "You talkin' about that guy Corbett, down by the bridge? He's with Harrow? We had drinks last night when I got in. Didn't seem so bad then... 'Course we were layin' it on thick."
  • [Rue]

    Well, shit. I wonder if Corbett's related to 'em then? Wonder if he's as purty as Foster? Damn, aint I some dumb idjit, thinkin bout who's purty and all. I shift, a bit upset at myself.

    Hell, I know where the bridge is. So's I lookit Shan an say, "C'mon, Shan. Let's go chat with yer buddy." I'll head on that way.

    As we're walkin', I look o'er at Shan, "Ya been all o'er, hunh? Tell me bout summa the shit ya seen, Shan. Anythin' that'd thrill a gal?" Tell me a story, fella. Ya aint Clairty, but yer here now.
  • You can tell you just hit Shan's sweet spot. He puffs out his chest, and rests his shotgun on his shoulder as he walks and talks. "Well, Rue, I tell ya I seen canyons so wide 'n high you could fit entire ruins in 'em. I seen mountains so tall they got snow on 'em even when it's hot outside. I seen stretches of land so flat and empty you think you ain't ever gunna cross 'em, and trees so tall 'n wide you could fit a car through 'em with room to spare."

    He looks off into the distance, a little wistful, "I seen good folks struggle to keep their own fed, and bad folks take every last bean outta some poor kid's mouth. I seen entire villages abandoned, and wells dried up... I seen folks worship 'nomalies, curse 'em, use 'em to their advantage... You name it. I pro'ly seen it."

    He steps down a path leading to the lakeside where you can access the underside of the bridge where Harrow and her brothers are staying. You can see the orange glow of a small fire reflecting off the wet bricks of the old bridge's support pillars, and hear a young man humming something just out of sight.

    What do you do?
  • [Rue]

    As we're walkin', I ask Shan 'bout them big trees, 'cause that sounds crazy. I ask him to tell me 'bout the canyons. I don't even know what a canyon is, so I ask that, too. Big holes, hunh? Interestin'. I like chattin' with Shan, he's got this kinda feelin' 'bout him. Reminds me o' Clarity an Cinch. 'Cept, you know, he aint super purty or spouting preachin' words alla times. He just watches and enjoys. I aint seen so much worth rememberin' myself. Find myself a lil jealous, but I don't say.

    Afore we reach the bridge, I tell 'im, "I been up north, buncha years ago. Saw mountains with snow. Weze chasin some..." Ize about to say "another gang", but aint gonna open that can o' worms quite yet, "After some fellers, an there it was. Big hills, bigger'n I ever seen afore. So big, the tops were white.... never seen nothin' like it." O' course, I don't mention that when we caught that other gang, theyze called the Zip Pack, well, when we caught 'em, Chigger decided to "make examples out of 'em". "Cut their heads off and put 'em on spikes," he sez. Believe me when I tell you, if ya don't got an axe, heads don't come off clean. An guess who did most o' the work? So no, I don't tell 'im that.

    We stop at a lil crick afore the bridge, an I fill up my canteen, take a drink or two. While I'm down there, I cup some water in my hand an pour it over the back o' my neck. Damn it feels good. I stand there fer a minute, then tell Shan, "Theyze a nomaly round here that plays with... what'd Robbie callit? Gravity. Makes ya float up inna air and shit. No lie." I smirk at 'im, 'cause now I got a story to tell. How ya like me now, Shan? Heh.

    After a while, we gotta move on, so we trudge on up to the bridge. I call ahead when we get close enough, "Hey there! Friendlies comin up!" I call a warnin'. I got Shelly slung o'er my shoulder, hands out, showin' peace. Then I'll lead Shan on up to see who's there.

    What was he hummin?
  • Shan listens calmly to your stories, hanging on every word. "Up north, huh? Gets right cold up there. Sounds like you been around quite a bit... One day when you got nothin' better to do, we're gunna get drunk, and you're gunna tell me why you set roots down here, yeah?" He smiles, and waits for you to get some water from the creek. His eyes widen in disbelief at the thought of being flung around by some anomaly; but instead of shaking his head, he just chuckles and says, "you gotta show me that shit, yeah? That sounds right messed up!"

    Then you come up to the bridge proper, and call out to whoever's humming, and push Shan up the bank. The tune the guy was humming was nothing you recognize... Or if it is, he's probably butchering it. Sounds a little like Hotel California, if the lead singer was beaten to a pulp before the stage. Either way, he jumps around when you come 'round the corner, "Whosere?" He calls out, a rusted up bayonet at his side. He eases up when he sees Shan though. "Oh, it's you ... 'n you must be that chick my sister kept talkin' 'bout. Rue, is it? What're you folks here for?" He's got a pot over a fire, seemingly cooking something that smells good. Other than that, he's got a single tent with a bedroll, and a bag filled with shit out.

    What do you do?
  • edited June 2014

    Shan's offer fer drinkin and chattin sounds good to me. "Hell yeah, Shan. That sounds like a good plan." Same thing with the nomaly, 'cept then I just grin an nod. Don't wanna seem like some foolheaded gal, ya know? All smiles and uh huhs and yeahs.

    Later, when we get to the bridge, I answer the bad hummer, "Ayup, I'm Rue. Yer Corbett?" This here's Harrow and Foster's brother then? An she talked 'bout me? Damn if my heart don't flutter a bit. I make myself think o' the poor fool she done kilt in bed. I come on up, squintin in the sun, lookin in on his shit, gettin near the bag. What's in it? I answer Corbett, "Where is Harrow an Foster, darlin? Seen 'em today?"
  • edited June 2014
    Shan doesn't seem to notice what you sound like. He seems mostly interested in just having someone to talk to.

    Corbett on the other hand seems less interested in company. He picks up a whittled stick and starts stirring whatever's in that pot of his. "They left yesterday for the ruins. Sayin' they'd be back In a few days. Rumors of a big haul. Why? You need somethin' from 'em?" Corbett is the younger of the siblings. He's got a much more mischievous look to him, and has a bunch of tattoos of whatever suited his fancy at the time. He's put away the bayonet now that he knows who you are.
  • [Rue]

    Shan makes me wonder if he wants summin to talk to or at. Feels like "to". Hard to tell right off with some folks. Well, I'm sure he'll have a good ole time with smart folks like Cinch n' Clarity. Not that I'm gonna ignore 'im, just that I'm just barely better'n Robbie at talkin', is all.

    Anyhow, back to lil Corbett here. I aint gonna take the man's food, so I don't eye it. Just lookin at him. He's got a raven tattoo on the side o' his neck. Reminds me o' Horse. Horse was part o' the gang. He died afore I broke out, which was one o' the reasons I decided to do what I did. Me an Horse was friends. Frakkin Chigger.

    So Corbett's a sneaky lil cuss? Shit, I kinda like the feller already. I give him a nod, "Naw, don't need nothin', just askin' if theyze about. How come you stayed back, Corbett? Ya look fit n' all."
  • Corbett shrugs and tosses a stump he's been using as a chair closer to the fire, then he sits down. "Sis said to stay behind. Not enough rations to guarantee all three of us could make the trip, so I'm supposed to chill here... Do some fishin', scavin', whatever." There's a longer log felled by the fire where you could both potentially sit. Corbett nods over to it. "Don't need to eat so much when you sit on your ass all day long, you know?"

    This is Corbett, for the record (his sleeve tattoos covered by his shirt).
  • [Rue]

    Damn, he's cute, too. No doubt they're related. I head o'er to the log an have a sit. I figger Shan follows. I don't mind if he sits by me, no big. I'll make sure Mag is reachable in 'is holster on my belt, but try an not make it obvious-like.

    This boy looks young. What is he, sixteen? Seventeen maybe? Don't matter none, really. Used to matter, I hear. Not now, though. Just wonderin'. I take a gander at 'is bag. It got any o' what Doghead's missin'? I got a feelin' it does.

    "Yer sis runs the family, it seems." I say it like it's all good, 'cause the girl does know how to get what she wants. "How's the scavin goin? Need anythin'?"

    I'm fixin to Read 'im.
  • Corbett shrugs indifferently when you comment on Harrow running the family. He balances the log and rocks a bit off a big stone by the fire. His old combat boots muddy, and scuffed to high hell. "She's the one keeps us fed most days. We just make sure nobody messes with her. Scavin's slow... Just barely gettin' enough to get by. Harrow's got an ear for good finds though — I'd bet she'll find somethin' sooner or later. We just gotta keep her alive 'til then, y'know? 'Til we get somethin' worth tradin', we can't really afford to go deep in the ruins... Maybe one day we might be able to hire you up for somethin' big."

    Go ahead and roll that read if you like.
  • [Rue]

    Readin Corbett:
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 1. Total: 5)
  • edited June 2014

    "Hire me up?" I say with a bit o' surprise. "I guess Harrow an Foster did mention me, heh." I look o'er at 'is bag, an then o'er at him. "If ya had what ya wanted, what would y'all trade fer, Corbett?"

    Did Shan sit by me? I figger if it comes to violence, I oughta know where he is in the line o' fire.
  • edited June 2014
    Corbett pays no mind to you looking at his bag. Instead, he smirks, and answers, "if I had a big-ass house-boat, enough gas to get me wherever the hell I wanted, and food to last a year, I wouldn't be hirin' nobody... But Sis is more realistic. She knows whatever we find's likely gunna be useless to us. You gotta trade up to what you want. We find shit people here like, then we sell it to hire more folks so we can go get what we want out there. Make sense?" He reaches into his pocket, and produces a couple of hand-rolled cigarettes. Offers you both one. Shan waits for you to cue him in.

    Hey Rue! Say, for the sake of argument, that Corbett took Doghead's shit... How could he get you to ignore it?
  • edited June 2014

    I shake off the cig. Horse liked 'em, spent his last year onna earth coughin' upa storm. Robbie tole me they give ya kansur, an Horse prolly had sickness 'cause of the cigs, an I figger he knows what he's talkin' 'bout. I aint rude, 'cause hell far they taste good. Keep ya warm when clothes don't, some cold nights. An keep ya clear when ya done bad shit, too. I don't need 'em anymore, so I just wave a hand. If Shan takes one, I won't judge. Aint like I'm inna place to judge nobody, so I don't.

    "Makes sense to me," I agree with Corbett. I mean hell, he just explained the frakkin barter system, 'cept with a bit o' plannin'. S'funny how the three o' them seem to be healthy an work together, seems they got a plan an all. But still, here they are, scavin' an scrapin', livin' out o' one tent an frakkin fer a room to sleep in. I wonder if its bad breaks, or failure to follow through on that big ole plan o' theirs.

    I let 'im smoke up or whate'er, an chuckle, "A big ole house-boat'd be mighty nice." An it would be. I like water. Swimmin', mostly. Aint never been onna boat.

    Wait around a bit fer these fellers to settle, an then I say, "Corbett, darlin', I know ya aint been here afore, so I'm willin' to work out somethin' with ya. But I'm purty sure I smell beans an taters in that pot, an ya just offered me a cig, which Doghead said he lost, too." I say it all plain, not like Ima gonna draw on 'im or nothin'.

    "See, Doghead's a big frakkin a-hole, an I can't stand talkin to 'im." I say on, "But he's part o' Monroe, an there people gimmie food an barter, leave me be as long as I keep raiders from givin' 'em trouble, an sometimes take care o' people who take what aint theirs. Even a-holes like Doghead, don't ask me why. I guess if they can stand the likes o' me, I lose my high ground 'bout Doghead, ya know?"

    I lean forward, elbows on knees, lookin' Corbett straight inna eyes, "I figger yer sis and big brother left ya to fend fer yerself, an ya saw that the ole man didn't keep 'is shit locked up tight. In 'bout any other place, Ida done just what you did. Want to keep yer shit? Put a lock onnit, a-hole. But here in Monroe, these people wanna live a little better. Just like you, an Foster an Harrow."

    Fer a second, I pause. Wanna let 'im ruminate on that. I sit back, lickin' my lips afore I say on, "Here's what I suggest, Corbett. I want ya to scrounge through yer shit, an we'll find somethin Doghead'll take in trade. An then we walk on back, an square things up. Then, ya promise me a lil somethin' fer my trouble, since I'm bein so nice an sweet."
  • edited June 2014
    Corbett's narrows his eyes, and sets his jaw at the accusation. "You're accusin' me of stealin' from Doghead, then tellin' me the path to not gettin' shot — regardless of whether I did — is to give him shit that'd no doubt be more expensive than if I didn't, and then I gotta pay you?"

    He stands up and tosses you his bag, "where's his shit, Rue? Have a look. Go on." You know if you open that bag, Doghead's shit won't be there. No thief worth a damn would keep it on him just to be discovered. Corbett's not bright, but you don't figure him that stupid. It's either hidden, or possibly even gone with Harrow and Foster... Doghead did say he'd been missing things for a while.

    OOC: I should have been more specific. How can Corbett get you to turn a blind eye to this whole incident? No paying things back, no questions asked.
  • [Rue]

    I don't stand up when he does. Gotta say, I'm glad he don't have the shit laying out inna open. Least he aint that stupid. I catch the bag, an look on in it, just to make sure. Sure enough, Doghead's shit aint here. It aint plain as day. Hell, knowin' what a user Harrow is, she took the shit with 'er, an it aint comin' back. Left this poor boy all by hisself.

    I stand up, hand the bag back to Corbett, "Mind if I lookit the tent?" I ask, but I'm doin it anyhow. I know I aint findin' nothin' in there neither, but I gotta follow through now, don't I?

    Hell far, do I suck at this sheriff shit.

    Next time, I'll let it go far enough to where it's clear as day who I oughta shoot, an then do that. O' course, twas nice walkin' an talkin' with Shan, so it aint a total loss so far. Bet he thinks Ima big joke now.

    I figger I'll poke 'round the tent an round the site fer a mite. I bet Corbett jaws at me, an he oughta, since he's either rightly pissed or committed to the lie.

    "Well, Corbett, I see Doghead's shit aint here." I say when I'm done lookin' round. "Did yer sis take it with her an Foster, leave you here high an dry? C'mon, darlin, I'm still bein sweet."

    Well see, I'd never say this out loud. Kinda surprised I'm even admittin' it to you, of all folks. But a promise of a return visit from Harrow n' Foster would be enough. That was a helluva night, an I actually slept in my own bed with the both o' them there.

    Sounds stupid, I know. Specially after what Shan tole me. Guess I aint got over the feelin' of bein with dangerous people.
  • Corbett takes a long drag off his cigarette when you "ask" to see the tent, then blows out a puff of smoke all over the place when you ask if Harrow took Doghead's food. "Sis does whatever she wants, Rue. Sometimes you jus' can't say no to her. Hell if I know what happened to Doghead's shit. I'm sure if you're still into bein' sweet when she gets back she'd say or do whatever the hell you want." He smiles a mischievous smile, "she wouldn't complain none, neither — if you catch my drift." There's something about the way he said "sometimes you just can't say no to her" that stands out...

    He waits patiently for you to pass judgement — whatever it may be.
  • edited June 2014

    I don't lookit Shan when I say this, just lookin' at Corbett, "Lissen, Corbett, I aint talkin' to Harrow right now, I'm talkin' to you." I give 'im a look that says "back off, feller, ya aint got no hold on me". But it aint rightly true, he kinda does, through her

    Damnit to hell, I really am a shit sheriff. I turn my back on 'im, "Well, Ima keep checkin' round, Corbett. If it turns out yer lyin' to me 'bout Doghead's shit, we're gonna have words again. An I prolly won't be so sweet." But they're just bullshit, an he knows it. Ima gonna walk on outta there. I figger Shan'll come or stay, his call.

    I need a drink. I just shat on my own word fer a roll inna hay with some frakkin murderers. Hell, mebbe I need a coupla drinks. I'm headin' back to my place.
  • You can practically feel Corbett waving goodbye behind your back. Somewhere in the mess of voices bouncing around your head, you hear Harrow whisper, "you keep away from my little brother." It hurts to think about doing otherwise.

    Shan follows you away from Corbett's little camp. He looks confused, and he can tell the mood has been thoroughly quashed. Once you're out of earshot, he whispers, "that boy there stole ol' Doghead's shit plain as day... You're walkin' away from that?"
  • [Rue]

    I stop onna dime, turn to Shan, glare at 'im fer a sec, anger rollin offa me, "You see any o' Doghead's shit on 'im?" I wait, like I want 'im to answer, then answer fer 'im, "I sure as hell didn't. Now mebbe Harrow took Doghead's food an cigs with 'er, mebbe she didn't. But she sure as hell aint gonna roll back into Monroe with any o' it!" I turn back 'round an keep walkin', throwin' a hand up, "Yer off the hook fer it anyhow, Shan. I'll figger it out somehow. Frakkin' Doghead shoulda locked up his shit!" Ima still walkin'.
  • Shan stops dead in his tracks, even backs up a step when you start going off on him. He holds up his hands defensively, and keeps his mouth shut right up until you turn to walk away. After a few paces, you hear him mutter, "well, shit..." Then he turns back to the lake and plops himself down in the sand.

    Any pit stops on the way home?
  • edited June 2014

    Well, hell. Shan doesn't follow me no more, hunh? That's good an bad. Good that he aint 'round to remind me Ize a lowdown dirty dog, an bad that he aint here to drink with me. Drinkin alone's never fun.

    I just wanna ferget today.

    Ima head on in to the church an I aint sayin no his and howareyas an alla that. Ize just gonna check my tape, pull out my key, go in, strip down an stow my gear, an then go out in my longshirt an holster, 'cause Mag an me're still friends, an go take a long bath with a tall bottle o' Jose.
Sign In or Register to comment.