Del didn't fight Kelly's hand, she just frowned deeply at McKellar.

"You're a Kentucky-fried sonuvabitch, cueball," she breathed icily. "But I say we help. I also say we let him bleed out in the dust if one of those freaks gets a lucky shot in, but what can you do? I learned how to be vindictive from the very best."

With a dismissive flourish, the lawdog straightened her hat and blew the last curls of smoke from her fingers in McKellar's direction.

"How much time to get there from here?"  Fletcher asked as he got to his feet and moved to begin gathering the junk gear the weirdos had been using so they could carry it back to the Dog, confident he could disable it temporarily to make it safe for transport.

McKellar didn't seem all that bothered by the insult and implied threat, instead just offering a faint nod, "I am that."  To Fletcher's question, he answered, "With your truck, ten minutes.  Harrison farmstead."  He seemed to feel as though the Dog's tide of opinion was turning in his favor because he then indicated to his rifle squad to head for the truck, "Check weapons and ammo, we'll be going in hot."

The militia, while still seeming uncomfortable with trusting these "road people", did not raise any argument with their leader.  They just moved to follow orders.  The injured man was helped towards the flatbed by another.  The others moved off, checking their rifles with practiced ease and reloading as they went.

---

Crowboy wasn't really sure he was included in the whole "crew" thing yet.  But, he really wanted to be so he made it pretty clear he felt that McKellar was a fucking a-hole that better not try anything.  In fact, he made it clear by saying, "Fuckin' asshole...  Better not try anything...."  He looked back and forth between Kelly, Del, and Dean.  Like, Yeah...  We're all in this together...hatin' this guy.....  Yeah.  Team, right?

Steve....was still missing...

Prudence didn't seem to care all that much whatever was chosen.  In fact, she had posted up to her usual position on the tail end of the flat bed.  Somewhen, she had tucked a large flintlock pistol into her belt.  The big old revolver was in her hand again, having its archaic cap and ball ammunition checked over.

Martin had drifted closer to Harry as the confrontation went down, but still hadn't felt the need to draw up his bow and pick a target.  When it seemed like the world wasn't going to erupt in fire again, he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  He felt like it might not matter much, but he joined in the general assent, "It never hurts to help and these guys seem....really dangerous for...everybody...."  Martin glanced up to Harry, knowing that everyone's opinion ultimately meant nothing if the cyborg and his friend the Driver weren't onboard.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Tue 11 June 2019.

Seeing Delilah was all right, more or less, Kelly backed up and tried to recollect the troops as it were before taking position herself.

"Ya might as well hold on to that lever gat, ah reckon it'll be th' same story where we's a goin' next."  Kelly poked Crowboy.  She didn't add and keep your mouth shut.

Harry nodded to Martin. "I've been wanting to go after these assholes ever since we heard about 'em from Crowboy and Steve. We'd have to deal with them anyhow, since we need to pass smack through their territory. We take some out at this farm, that's less of 'em to deal with when it comes time to find their main camp." He looked at Fletcher. "But we need The Dog onboard with this, too. You think you can get that radio working again with the scrap from these guys?"

"I can give it a shot.  Might take a bit though.  Ten 'r twenty minutes ta replace all the burnt up fiddly bits."  Fletcher said.  "Ya sure the Dog's gonna mind that short a detour?"

Harry shrugs. "The Dog conking out when we left Texarkana because he didn't want to go East at all, even just to reroute around broken roads, doesn't strike me as a good sign. I don't know how much of The Driver is actually left, and how much is just the strong desire that keeps him goin'." He sighs, then taps his head. "It's like my Chip. The chip in my head don't understand things like nuance and circumstance. It's got a program to fulfill, come Hell or high water. Protect and Serve. Win Hearts And Minds. Bring Lawbreakers To Justice. Don't Engage Unless You Confirm Hostility. Secure Agency Assets Against Theft Or Vandalism. Now, I can shut the Chip down, if I really have to, but the Chip keeps the demon inside me from taking over, and and it is a right bastard. So I do what I can to work within those parameters."

Harry looks over at The Black Dog. "I reckon it's the same with The Driver. I'm not sure how ghosts or spirits work, but my best guess is that The Driver was so obsessed with gettin' home to 'Sarah' that the desire tied him to the world when The Bombs fell. It's a desire so strong, he probably can't override it for more than a little while...and that's assuming there's enough left of his original personality to make a difference."

He looked back at Fletcher. "You and I, we got free will. We can choose what we do. Even when I have to deal with my Chip, it's a choice I'm making -- follow the directives, or shut the Chip down and maybe let something worse out of the box. The Dog? I ain't sure how much choice he has. At least a little, since we convinced him to get going before. But no, I don't know whether he'll mind a short detour like this, until I'm actually certain of how much of his will is left and how much is just the drive that sustains him. The more you help me talk with him directly, the better I get to know him."

"Right.  Well, why don't we see if he'll roll with it, 'n I'll start workin' on gettin' the radio up 'n runnin' 'gain, 'n if the Driver decides ta put the breaks on things, we can try ta explain it then.  That way we don't loose time we don't need necessarily need ta."  Fletcher suggested.

Harry shrugs. "Suppose it can't hurt to try." He interfaced with the rig via the wireless, trying to send a signal. "Where exactly is this farm at, anyhow? Directions might help."

McKellar was fairly close by, getting his people on the flat bed.  He was already looking Harry and Fletcher's way and, based on the expression, wasn't particularly pleased at the discussion.  What with all the "Will the truck go?" and "It'll take time..."  His jaw was tight; trying to stop himself from interjecting into a conversation he had no control over...but desperately wanted to have control over.  The resolution to go anyway seems to help though.  To the question, he answered, "I'll have to direct you on the go.  We hide the roads for the safety of the 'stead.  There are also....obstacles...to get around."

Harry looked at McKellar, frowning. "Can I get at least a general direction and distance? If we're goin' down back roads and navigating around shit, I'd rather not get into an argument with our truck about whether we're lost or not."

Dean resisted the urge to scowl.  He was fine for taking out the raiders.  But having McKellar with them as far from ideal.  He barely knew mostthe Crew but was fine trusting them.  However, having the traitorous scumbag watching their backs was not a good thing at all.  It was enough for his patience to run a bit thin.

So when Harry and Fletcher started debating how to talk to the Dog, Dean wasn't feeling the need to wait.  He wanted this done, fast.  The sooner McKellar got lost, or shot, the better.  So instead of waiting, he let his mind link up to the Dog once more.  It was faster and more direct.  And only slightly more dangerous...

McKellar sighed, jaw tightening again.  Not used to being questioned.  But, he continues to bite it back.  His unflappable is starting to flap, "South to 24.  West, link up with old 329.  Five clicks to the farm road hide.  If I can use your radio, I can try to reach them and call in whatever my people can get on the road to link up with us en route."

The Black Dog's big engine idled.  Waiting...

Harry nodded. "Thanks. And yeah, go ahead." Harry waved to the radio gear, then concentrated on his link with The Dog (not realizing Dean was doing much the same).

"You want to come, you walk or get your own ride," he said, speaking for the first time to McKellar.  "Policy," he said simply, nodding ot the Dog and the crew.

Del smirked at Dean, then nodded emphatically to McKellar.

Harry blinked at the demands for McKellar to do his own walking, as he wasn't particularly keen on antagonizing the psyker any more than they already had, but decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he leaned against The Dog and used his good hand to pull down the radio so McKellar could get on it, and waited for The Dog to respond.

With things settled, Fletcher scrambled up onto the trailer.

"S'okay!"  He stated loudly to get everyone's attention.

"So we know these guys are mutants.  Dunno exactly what that does, if anythin'.  We know they got these,"  He said holding up one of the winged packs.  "'n we do know what they do, which is important.  We all saw the flash.  These goggles they got attached are really the important part though.  Pretty genius idea actually.  They protect 'em from the flash ah course, but they also let 'em see the background count of what's in front of 'em, like seeing what a Geiger counter detects 'n givin' visual feedback instead a audial."  He explained.

"Everythin' got a big ole dose when the bombs went off, so these guys can see people, plants, structures, everythin', even in total darkness.  The only way ta hide is ta find yourself somethin' that'll block the rads you're givin' off, like a whole lotta rock 'r a thick sheet a lead.  'Less you was hidin' somewhere real deep 'r otherwise protected when the bombs went off,"  Fletcher added, making eye contact with first Dean, then McKellar.  "then you'd be pretty much invisible s'far as these guys 'r able ta see."

Gesturing with the winged pack again he continued, "Now we got two a these were the goggles still work.  Means we can set up two ah 'r own ta be able ta see everyone 'n everythin'.  The weirdos 'n their gear are 'radiated real good so they'll stick out like a couple bonfires.  I also got five a these."  Fletcher went on, pulling out what looked like a fancy respirator with some complicated electrical bits where it connected behind the wearer's head.

"These 'r originally intended ta keep someone alive where they otherwise would have a bad time.  Thanks ta the controllable ionization field they create it also works 'gainst radiation.  That effect'll go both ways, in theory.  It'll keep yer radiation in, so you'll be good as invisible far as the weirdos' goggles go.

"That all should give us a little advantage when we get ta the farm."

The Black Dog abides...

McKellar gave Harry a nod and started to head for the cab, likely for the radio gear.  Then he stopped...narrowing his eyes at something.  He turned to look at Dean, /just/ before Dean made his policy declaration.  The declaration itself got a very severe look.  His bland, neutral expression cracked and he just can't hide the anger anymore.  But before he can say whatever things that anger thinks will be a good idea....  Fletcher spoke up.

And what he said got McKellar's full attention.  And it was pretty obvious that the Syker vet understood some of Fletcher's implications quite clearly.  The mask clicked back into place.  Business, "Then we have an edge.  They can't see us coming.  We can stop them cold."  He looked back to Dean again, "Unless you force me and mine to walk.  /Then/ folks are going to die.  Because of you."

"Hold your horses there hoss, I admit everything he just said is about four miles over my head, but it sounds like whatever trickery he's figured out, we can't apply it to everyone anyway for lack of having enough stuff to do it with.  Two, three people tops.  Or did I misunderstand?"  Kelly looked to Fletcher to see if she was right.

"Five."  Fletcher replied.  "Plus those who don't need it, 'less McKellar has resources ta apply the principal ta effect more."

Harry sighs, and steps up to Dean. "Look. Stop this. You don't want to ride with McKellar and his crew? Fine. You can find your own ride or walk. We got folks in danger, and needling the only other folk around trying to put a stop to it is just about the dumbest move you could pull. I don't know what your problem with him is, but it seems to me, from everything that's happened, that it's exactly that -- your problem. McKellar ain't the enemy here -- that would be the weirdos who think it's fun snatching people in the night and feeding them to some sort of abomination." He stands over Dean, bringing his impressive height to bear. "I ain't saying you and him need to sit down by a campfire and sing 'Kumbaya.' But I am telling you that your beef with him ain't worth a hill of corn and beans right now. He's right -- people will die if we can't work together. So how 'bout it? Think you can put up with him for just a day or so? Or do I have to put you and Del out on the road by your lonesome?"

Dean looked UP at the killing machine without blinking, ignoring McKellar for the moment.  "Wow, aren't we being a sanctimonious moron?," he said rhetorically.  "I gave you a single warning to be careful when we arrived, never elaborated why, and then I've done literally nothing against him at all.  Kept perfectly silent about it.  Not done one single thing against him or said a thing about it since.  I brought back food from my hunt and gave half of it away to those stuck outside his walls.  I worked with him and his team.  Went hunting the raiders with him and his team to find those 'supposed at the time', raiders.  I'm the one who took the ONE prisoner we found.  Did nothing but back up our team, still silent, when the trouble started brewing while you stood around with your thumb up your mechanical ass.  But MY actions have been a problem?," he lists off, annoyed at the accusation.  "You don't listen Harry.  The decision of him riding with us or not is not my call.  My opinion doesn't get a vote here.  It's not MY policy," he said tapping the Dog lightly.  "So back the fuck off and grow up."  His mouth was set in a firm line.  Whether from the threat, accusation or just because he was annoyed at having actually having to talk that much in one burst, could have been any really.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Fri 31 May 2019.