Brother Edgar accepted her assessment without further argument.  He cast a questioning look to Crichton, then got out of the humvee.  He set himself to looking over the surroundings and paying close attention.  It's sad, but with the way this apocalyptic wasteland had taught him, this seemed exactly the sort of spot for something terrible to happen...

  Chricton merely shrugs and keeps an eye out. He pulls his HI pistol.

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 202):

MArcela finished topping up. She did not look suspicious, just wanted to get on the road. Moving the technical in through the gate to the speedway's pit area Peter had the choice to fill the tank with high-octane gasoline, spook juice, diesel.

The presence of an immense quantity of petroleum fuel was not that surprising, they had passed literally dozens of oil wells around and in town. Most were rusted and/or partially disassembled but there were definitely some that were still pumping away even now. The crude oil gained this way would need to be refined somehow, and the town did seem to have some kind of large obviously junker-built apparatus installed on the north side of town.

Roadkill pulled the rig in and started filling his own tanks with diesel. He had barrels of Spook Juice in the trailer but you never knew when you might need a refill and actual diesel fuel was hard to come by.

Trask runs through a diagnostic program as he runs scans over the racetrack and surrounding cars, thermal, ultra violet etc... He will give a shout out on the teams comms should anything come up.

-

Smoker just huddles down in his nest, looking around warily.

 "All clear so far. As soon as the trailer is topped off we are off." Chricton says into his radio.

Brother Edgar returned to the passenger seat of the Humvee after a while.  Letting others better suited watch out and fuel up.  He turned his own mind to matters that he was better suited to.  He closed his eyes and began going through his relaxation excercises.  Breathing.  Turning to the Glow to ease the ache of all the power he had let pour through him.  To let the Glow fill him up again.  To wash away the fear and sadness that the terrible fight in the town had brought to him.  Centered.  One.

Peter slowly, almost hesitantly, pulled his truck in. He got out and inspected what was available. His jaw dropped open a bit. "They have...all this...just sitting here? And no one has tried to take this place? No one has taken this...treasure trove?"

He looked over at Marcela. "How? How did gangs and marauders not overrun this place a long time ago to take this?"

He then began to fill up the tank and a reserve gas can with spook juice.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 208):

Handing off the fuel hose, the woman thought a little, then answered as she gestured towards the surrounding forest, "this belongs... belonged to people in the town, and they took care of it. It wasn't sitting here abandoned for the taking. The Ark-La-Tex speedway's been here for a hundred years before the war. Kind of a legend in these parts.

"I don't know if you noticed but we are in the Goddamn middle of nowhere in the backwoods here. Only one way in or out unless you are going through town. Marshall Itson kept a good handle on things with constant patrols of the road and security here could rely on the town police to respond within a few minutes. And with the wealth of the oil wells they could roll pretty heavy if they needed to. I heard over the years they slaughtered shitloads of gang members and marauders who tried to raid the place until a few years back they just stopped coming. Or came to race!"

Peter absorbed that information as he got the spook juice where it needed to be. After a long moment, he nodded. "Very well." He puased and then sounded more empathetic. "I am sorry that things have gone the way they have for your family and your town."

Once he was finished and had replaced the gas nozzle, he mounted back up and headed out unless there was any further discussion to be had.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 210):

A figure from the shadows watches. Obviously a person wearing a duster and a motorcycle helmet, carrying a rifle with a scope. Raises the rifle over his head and waves it back and forth a couple of times before bringing it back down.

In reply to 'Cannibal' Jack Hayes (msg # 211):

Noticing movement out of the corner of he eye Roadkill looked up from where he was in conversation with Peter. Startled, he drew and charged his SA Commando SMG, aiming it at the figure. After a pause, he lifted the barrel to point it up.

"What... who? Wait a second, as I live and breathe, is that "Cannibal" Jack Hayes? What are you doin' here?"

SA .50AE Commando SMG:


This message was last edited by the player at 01:20, Fri 19 Oct 2018.

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 212):

Marcela, a townie who sometimes came to the racetrack, was surprised Cannibal Jack was still alive!

"Good to see you, Jack!

"Oh, you know him? He's been out here at the racetrack. Kind of security with a sideline as a mechanic."

"Slumming" Says Jack moving closer. Slinging the Marlin, and pulling out one of the 'Eagles'. Looking over his shoulder he adds. "Got my ride shot up on the road, came here for a replacement. Saw some unfriendly types heading my way and decided to lay low. Whatcha all doing here?"

In reply to 'Cannibal' Jack Hayes (msg # 214):

'I hear ya, man! Sorry 'bout your ride.

"look, we're chasin' some bad hombres. They infected the town with some kind of disease that turned everyone into bloodthirsty monsters. You're handy with a gun and a wrench, yer welcome to ride with me as long as you like."

Smoker waved from his perch.

"Hey there! We came here chasing a rogue who stole a bike off one of the group, and my gun - after shooting me with it - and found the place a mess. So we have these bad'uns to chase as well now."

Trask watched the proceedings with impassive indifference that comes with an emotionless mask of metal. He had lowered his weapon once the new guy was identified and seem to be known among the group.

Once greeting were pasted around he went back to providing over watch for the group and checking his sensors for threats.


-

Crichton, from his post by the Humvee, lowered his pistol as the contact seemed to be a known friendly.  Silently, he cursed himself a bit for missing the rather large, heavily armed potential threat in the first place.  He covered for his discomfort by re-holstering his pistol, picking up his "custom" sniper rifle and checking over the wiring on the capacitors.  At the mention of the need for speed, he added, "Yeah.  Give us a hand with these creepy punks and maybe I can do something with your bike on the way back."

As the alert first went up, Brother Edgar stirred from his quiet meditations and took up his control rod.  But, the situation shook out before he could get out of the Humvee.  When he did step out, it was mostly to give the newcomer a look-over and a quiet nod of greeting.  Honestly, the gunman was an intimidating sight...but others he trusted seemed to be okay with it.  The Doomsayer seemed more than ready to leave it at that.

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 215):

It's REALLY bad when you can see someone grin from under a scarf. "Hey Roadkill, ya know I'm in for stuff like that . Let me hop outa these sneakers and pop on my boots. Then I'll retrieve my backpack. (Edging the sunglasses without revealing to much of his face) Nice ride"

Closer reveal : Heavy duster, two desert eagles, machete, Police Motorcycle helmet, sunglasses, and a women's scarf covers most of his face. Burn marks. Thankful he doesn't uncover his face....And a lever action marlin with a scope slung across his back.

In reply to 'Cannibal' Jack Hayes (msg # 220):

Marcela said to Brother Edgar, "I think he's okay. He's been through here before, never caused a problem. He's definitely not with the crew that destroyed the town."

She cheched her 10mm S&W model 5006 police pistol. "I think we're ready to go. Let's saddle up!"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:21, Thu 25 Oct 2018.

In reply to 'Cannibal' Jack Hayes (msg # 220):

"Awright, buddy. You want to ride on the trailer? I got 2 2-man fighting positions, each with a machinegun. Smoker is up there in the rear, he's a mechanic. Also, Trask is on the front gun. He's wearing the Wolverine suit."

At Marcela's call to roll, Crichton restowed his rifle.  A bit too unwieldy for use from the Humvee.  Once sure that it was settled safely, he climbed back into his seat in the back.  His Damnation pulled, checked, and held at the ready just in case they actually caught up to these bastards, "All set."

Peter wasn't sure what to make of the new arrival at first. Their trusted semi-truck driver, Roadkill, seemed to know him and vouch for him. Peter merely gave the new person a slow nod of greeting, watching him a little warily.

He turned to Roadkill. "I will lead as before. I will do my best not to get you caught up on anything again."

He then got in to the technical and started it up, waiting for everyone to mount up on the two trucks before continuing on their way.

Brother Edgar nodded gently to Marcela's assurances, noting, "He seems known to a few.  I would never say no to such a gift of the Glow.  We will likely need all that we can gather before we see the end of this."  The Doomsayer too returned to his shotgun seat in the Humvee, saying quietly, "Praise be to Saint Darwin.  May we continue to adapt and overcome and may our enemies be naturally selected."  He clicked the seatbelt into place, "I am ready."  As he noted Peter's technical moving up, he suggested to Marcela, "It is our general procedure to let Peter lead the way.  We can follow him."