The Bulldozer Tavern...

Rarmon received his whiskey and Jack received his cup of water both had stopped their idle chatter on war both looked into their drinks Jack was the first to lift his cup to his lips Rarmon following suit with his own the two savoured their individual drinks. The waitress came back Rarmon couldn’t believe his eyes a damn hamburger on the menu. He asked the waitress to quickly find they had very little left and wondered if he would mind ordering something else. He frowned over the menu many exotic…. Well hunted things listed on the menu. “I think I will skip this meal actually.” Jack looked to the women holding her pen at the ready. “Would it be okay if you could bring a bowl of shelled nuts.” The waitress nodded moving away toward the bull dozer to grab Jack a bowl of nuts the two looked back to each other Rarmon looked around finding a few patrons smoking finding to his joy he pulled a cigar from his front pocket he crammed the end into his mouth pulling a well tarnished lighter opening he found difficulty lighting the damnation of a light he was about to tear it apart when he found a match lit in his face. “So much easier you know.” Jack holding the match out to him Jack had already lighted a cigarette seeming to be battered and old the bent and torn packet sitting on the table.
The waitress came back looking between the two seeming to be opposites of a coin a perfect description for them both she placed the nuts walking away. Rarmon found difficulty picking one up deciding to take three in one grasp where as Jack picked at one opening the shell with ease Rarmon simply crushed the shell Jack frowned at the design of Rarmon’s cybernetics. “Bit old and clunky difficult to do small jobs?” Ramon shook his head giving up separating nut and shell he put the handful into his mouth. “I just haven’t programmed the fingers for such things as picking at shells of a nut.” He picked another three about to throw the nut into his mouth when he saw the three peace keepers walk in. “law enforcement?” Jack looked round giving a shrug as he turned back round. “Yeah more of those supposed peacekeepers we walked by last night.” Rarmon nodding as he remembered Jack killing almost four of them with the knife in his boot not wanting to waist bullets to get out of the barracks they had accidentally entered, or strolled in for ammo.

The two continued to discuss about wars they stopped at certain years most who had a good education would notice that both would have probably served during that time during the exorcising of mutants. The two skipped such a thing as they saw multiple mutants sitting at the bar and other booths not wanting to draw too much attention on that area. The two continued to drink ordering a second round the Rarmon with his HUD sent a message in silence to Jack he could hear the peacekeepers attack they couldn’t believe the armoury in their barracks had been attacked last night. Jack took his glass of water enjoying the liquid flow having not drank cold water all his flasks had contained warm water across those desserts.Then the comments thrown at the ranger patron caused Jack to turn in his seat wondering if anything would break out. He looked beyond the shoulder of the supposed prosecuted ‘Ranger’ the loss of some livestock and some ‘Dutch courage’ had caused this obviously pointless argument as he saw the drunk accuser his friend was keeping him standing rather than his own legs. “Disgusting.” He turned back round picking his glass of water swirling it in circles slowly.

Plymuth continued to ignore the drunkard who continued to verbally assault him while his friend hauled him out of the tavern. Each step he moved further away the more brazen the man became, such was always the case with cowards considered Plymuth as he finished off his tasty spider and his side of beans in tomato sauce.

Only when the irate man was gone did Plymuth life his head up from his plate. He searched the tavern for his server and when he spotted her lifted up his empty beer mug and gave it a few taps. Another one was promptly brought over to him and upon receiving it, Plymuth paid for his meal and tipped the girl with ten of the ancient 'twenty five cent pieces', which he quickly learned was rather generous. Only then did it occur to him just how much money the ranger, Salem had given him and it got Plymuth thinking that he was trying to tempt him, but why? Were they so desperate for recruits?

The doors to the tavern swung open and the server girl who was clearing away Plymuth's platter and cutlery looked behind him with wide eyes. "Troopers!" she nervously exclaimed in a hushed tone.

Plymuth looked over his shoulder at the men. They were better armed, more fit and appeared to be seasoned soldiers by the way they carried themselves and the battle scars across their faces. A couple of them were quite old, with skin like hardened leather which was probably just as tough. They were definitely at one time mercenaries, Plymuth surmised, just like the bastards who had wiped out his people.

"Troopers?" He questioned the girl.

"'Death Troopers'. They're hired soldiers that work for the peacekeepers." she whispered, "They only show up when there's killing to be done. You seem like a nice man, if I were you I'd get out of here."

The serving girl hastened into the kitchen and did not return but Plymuth remained seated. Many of the patrons were starting to leave, and only the die-hards, drunks and fools remained. Plymuth wasn't sure what category he fell under but he was certain that the cyborg and his companion were in a class all by themselves.

The Death-Troopers stepped up to the bar and ordered some drinks while people began to clear out. All of them wore full body armour of a military style and carried sinister looking rifles, the kind that would have been used during the wars that preceded and followed the apocalypse. One of them noticeably looked over at the three peacekeepers who remained sitting in the far corner and nodded to them. He glanced to the back of the tavern where the two soldiers were sitting then proceeded to drink his glass of vodka.

Plymuth looked over at Rarmon and Jack, then glanced at the back door which was about ten paces away from them as if to say, 'take it' but he already figured they weren't about to back down. He could feel the tension building, but nothing had happened yet. The death-troopers just hung out at the bar and the peacekeepers continued to socialize in their corner. It seemed to Plymuth as if they were waiting for something, but what? As he thought about the answer he continued to drink his beer and only one thing became obvious to him and that was that he was no soldier. He wasn't about to get in the middle of a fire fight with only a three shot spear gun and so he figured that once the shooting started he'd duck out the back, that was if anything did in fact transpire. So far, nothing seemed to be happening.

Jack leant fully back removing his knife from his boot removing a nut to shell it with the blade then picking it up on the tip, Rarmon watched in silence as Jack did this four times over before Jack stopped and looked to Rarmon. “I’m guessing you have no chance of doing this?” Rarmon shook his head picking another three from the bowl it was almost down to the bottom the two eating in turns. Rarmon observed Plymuth pay with the small bronze and silver coins he turned to Jack. “Quarters and pennies mate.” Jack slipped his hand into the sniper coat finding the small pouch it was rather full after ransacking the armoury he pulled out the desired amount by the board.

The two were placing the coins on the table when they heard the scraping of chairs and large amounts of movement as people began to leave. Jack gave a sigh wondering what was happening turning to find more peacekeepers…wait no these were proper soldiers… “Seems like the one we killed in the armoury may have had friends.” Whispering the words both recalled the man who had actually fired at them before dieing with a knife in his throat one of four who actually noticed the movement in the dark.

“Maybe we should finish off and leave now before we make a mess.” Jack worried that his always trigger happy friend would see the opportunity to sharpen his skills on these people. They both sat Rarmon slowly reached into his coat seeming to scratch his belly any excuse to put his hand on his revolver clicking back the hammer as he put his glass down covering the sound.

Rarmon got up walking slowly with his empty glass walking to the bar his other hand still inside his coat he gave a yawn smacking his lips pretending to enjoy the drink he had just had. Rarmon squeezed in next to one of the troopers. “Can I have a pint instead of this please?” The barman looked over to Jack who had returned to his glass of water he slowly cracked another nut open with the knife. Picking it up he left his drink slinging the tube to his shoulder he moved to pick up the bag with a strain of muscles he lifted the bag moving it two tables down before having to take a break looking to his side he saw Plymuth. “Sorry about stopping here heavy stuff.” Jack almost giving a friendly smile but Plymuth noticed the reason why Jack had moved the smile false was probably because he couldn’t see the far peacekeepers at their corner table this place was the nearest vantage point.

Plymuth was none too impressed about having his meal interrupted and it showed in his face when Jack offered his apology. He remained silent and tossed back the rest of his pint, then his eyes flashed to the back door of the establishment prompting the sniper to follow them. What he saw then were shadows moving under the door and Jack now knew why the troopers were stalling at the bar. They were being ambushed.

"So much for a nice quiet meal." Mentioned Plymuth without looking at Jack as he slipped his satchel and weaponry over his shoulder. He remained sitting, however, decidedly not making any sudden movements that might kick off a domino effect.

"I don't know what'ya did son, but you've pissed off somebody, and pissed them off good." Said Plymuth, then he looked around at the patrons that had stayed, "Too bad about these people, they'll probably get caught in the cross fire. What is it you people call it? Ah, yeah... 'collateral damage'."


At the bar...

The five Death Troopers looked at one another curiously as Rarmon approached then went on with their drinking. The one closest to him, however, remained leery. As the cyborg entered striking distance the soldier became very wary and placed his hand on his side arm.

The bar tender, grabbed a pump and filled up a pint glass for the cyborg. "On the house." he said nervously as he slid the glass across the bar toward him and backed up.

"Sure ya'd rather not 'ave a pint o' oil instead there chap?" Commented a trooper in the middle of the pack, "But then again you're parts use a different sort 'a lubricant don't they? Funny thing, we found some of it back at our barracks. Don't ya think that's funny lads?"

The other soldiers laughed sinisterly.

"Well looky there!" Exclaimed the spokesman of the group, "I think you've sprung a leak, m'boy. I think maybe ya need an overhaul," the soldier stepped away from the bar then, his expression and tone growing more serious, "or maybe ya just need to be scrapped!"

The soldier's suddenly didn't seem so relaxed anymore and the the one who was speaking, that appeared to be their leader spoke Rarmon's charge, "For the suspected murders of law enforcers I am placing you and your associate under arrest! Surrender or we will KILL you!"

The sounds of shuffling foot steps seemed to echo all around the tavern. The front doors and the back door of the establishment began to rattle and the bar tender and those patrons who realized what was about to happen hit the deck. Only a few addled drunks remained in their seats as Plymuth sprang out of his chair and started to run for the kitchen doors.

Gavin awoke alone in a smaller room shoved into a corner. For a split second, it felt like home, the warmth and comfort of other bodies pressed against him giving him barely enough room to move. He then blinked his eyes open and squinted into the daylight. With a sigh of mingled relief and disappointment, he realized that he had merely been carried by his own instincts. It wasn't terribly uncommon for the rat-human hybrid to wake up in some wide space and in his drowsy twilight between consciousness and sleep, wander off in search of a smaller, safer space. Sleeping in a cage with his cage-mates piled around him for his entire life, nevermind his natural dislike of wide-open spaces, made sleeping in large rooms for any length of time close to impossible.

Rubbing his eyes and placing his sunglasses back onto his face, Gavin stood up and stretched his tensed muscles before wandering out into the broken-down building to find the others. After blinking and pulling himself quickly into full consciousness, he found his way back to the room from which he had likely wandered and peered inside. Mostly he'd hoped to find the Human with the bike-- the catlike girl still made him uncomfortable-- but all he saw was an empty room. Furrowing his brow he took a step into the room, feeling only the presence of some fuzzy little visitors that skittered unseen somewhere within the walls.

"Hello?" he called, looking around the empty room. Nothing. His heart sank a little. He was used to being alone, but in spite of it, he had come to believe that he had actually been accepted into a new pack. Shrugging and sighing, he moved off out of the hotel, immediately falling into his usual strides. He kept his sensitive nose on the immediate search for food and his sharp ears pricked for any signs of movement or life. He managed to dig up a few edible morsels and a small pouch that would serve as a makeshift canteen from within the remains of the building before he stepped out into the harsh light. The heat immediately stung his skin and he found himself very much missing his lost trench coat. Blinking, he squinted hard and instinctively turned his head towards the shadows. Out here in the middle of nowhere in the glaring sun, Gavin was almost blind. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he managed to pick a direction and began trudging through the dry landscape, looking for any solid-looking shapes that may provide shade.

The heat was brutal and his own rationing of water was doing little to satiate it. Sweat formed over his entire face and dripped into his eyes and mouth, filling it with a lingering taste of salt that only made him thirstier. The physical durability provided by his genes did little to comfort him and it didn't take him long to finish every drop of water in the tiny little pouch he'd found in the building. Coughing in the dry air, the thought briefly drifted into his mind wondering if he would finally meet his end. Licking with disdain at the pouch, Gavin moved over toward a large, gray object he figured was a rock and placed a hand on it before slowly sitting in its meager shade. The hot, sun-baked material felt rough and weather-beaten but man-made. Turning, he squinted up at it and saw that it was a hunk of concrete-- the sad survivor of some structure long-since destroyed with the rest of the dead world.

Leaning against the hot concrete, Gavin tried to make himself comfortable, figuring if he was going to waste away he might as well be sitting comfortably. It was then that he felt a faint vibration drifting up from the ground. It was strongest at his legs and feet and faded up along his back, barely detectable at his head. Gavin lifted his head and squinted into the washed-out landscape. Something was moving and it was coming from the direction from which he had himself come. Pulling off a fingerless glove, Gavin placed his palm on the warm ground and moved it up along to where his head was, pausing as he went. The vibration was growing stronger, even in the places where it had been faintest against his body. It was moving. Something . . . most likely a vehicle . . . was coming this way. The Rat Hybrid looked around at the wide expanse around him and pressed himself against the concrete chunk, trying to decide what to do. He looked completely Human so he at least had that going for him, but that didn't necessarily guarantee that any company would be friendly.

The sun was beginning to fade and it would only get easier for him to see. He decided to wait it out, perching himself in the meager shade and wishing the sweat that covered him would begin to cool him. His senses alert, he forgot his exhaustion and "watched" the vehicles get closer with his hands against the ground, the faint vibrations getting slowly but steadily stronger in his fingertips, he wondered where any vehicles could possibly be going to, let alone coming from, in this wasteland. Then he saw them, two enormous cars rolled past in a cloud of dust that moved along the arid land. Gavin got to his feet, squinting at them as they went past, almost not believing he was actually seeing them. Could there really be civilization out here?

Forcing his tired muscles to move, he followed along behind them, watching the dust cloud as it drifted along in the distance, the scent of precious fuel riding on their wake.

After Tom smoothed things over with the welcoming guards at the entrance of Stonehaven, he and Kitty were escorted to a “holding room” that Kitty told Tom it was nothing more than a cell without bars. Tom agreed but there wasn’t much either of them could do about it right now. At least they were in a secure place and not in the wide open where the bat like creatures could easily pick them off and feast on their warm bodies.

The guard told Kitty and Tom they would have to make themselves comfortable until they could be escorted into the general population of Stonehaven with a peace keeper who could give them the rules of the settlement. While it wasn’t the greatest thing Kitty and Tom had ever heard, it was far better than the alternative, which was becoming a meal for those hateful creatures.

For a few hours Kitty paced the floor while Tom listened to everything the guards talked about. It was quite obvious the feline hybrid didn’t like being cooped up no matter how nice the accommodations were supposed to be. Finally Tom was able to convince her to stop her pacing for fear she would give away her true nature and then what would they do.

Knowing Tom’s safety was at stake and not just her own, Kitty relented and sat down on one of the rickety cots in the room. Of course it seemed like it was just a few minutes but in reality it had been quite a few hours when she awoke to a noise in the distance, one human ears would have difficulty hearing. Her eyes flickered open and she sat up tilting her head listening closely.

Glancing over at Tom, Kitty saw the wolf hybrid was already crouched and laying his hands flat on the floor. Glancing towards the door then back at Tom, Kitty saw her friend give her the sign for ‘quiet’. Glancing towards the door of the room once more then back to Tom, Kitty nodded her head slightly then slithered off the cot making very little noise.

When she walked to the door and looked out she saw the guards were back at their stations and the sun was already high in the sky. When Kitty went to turn around she found Tom standing behind her looking over her head at the situation just beyond the entrance of the room. While the door was wide open both of the hybrids had the feeling they weren’t as free to roam as it appeared.

Slithering back into the room, Kitty signed to Tom between glances out the door.

i heard noise. sounded like robot man.

Tom nodded in response and leaned closer to tell Kitty he heard the same thing.

”Yeah. Me too. And knowing him….he’s not being very dip…”

What ever Tom was about to finish saying was cut short when a group of well armed, well armored men walked into the area, spoke to the guards then walked back out the way they had come from. Stopping and glancing in at Tom and Kitty when the one guard stated they couldn’t leave because of the guests in the room, the man who appeared to be the leader of the well armed men shrugged his chin towards Kitty and Tom.

”What? These two? Look at ‘em…their too puny to cause us any trouble. Let ‘em into the place. If they try to cause trouble, we’ll be sure to escort them back but not before we take a little detour first. Besides….we need your help at the ‘Dozer.”

The man was smiling but there was nothing friendly about his smile and Kitty instantly wanted to put some fresh scars on his face with her claws. Thankfully they moved off then and all but two of the guards hurried to follow the armed men. Tom and Kitty exchanged glances and decided to see what was going on.

After leaving the “holding room” they had been given when they arrived, they decided to follow the armed men at a discreet distance and see what was happening. Somehow, Tom and Kitty both had a feeling it was going to do have something to do with the robot man simply from the fact they had picked up on a noise that sounded a lot like him.

When they got closer, they saw the well armed men enter a place called “The BullDozer Tavern” and Kitty knew then what the ‘Dozer was the men had referred to. Just before they entered, they made some final plans with the guards that had been recruited from the gates. As the armed men walked in, the guards and some other armed men began to circle the tavern.

Soon after the armed men walked into the tavern several patrons came scurrying out reminding Kitty of what rats look like when their living quarters are invaded. Tom and Kitty moved a little closer then and when the guards weren’t looking, they decided to slip inside to get a better look.

What they saw when they got inside, after their eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, caused the hair on the back of both of their necks to rise in warning. Quickly pressing their backs against the wall, they watched closely. The first thing the hybrids noticed were the way the armed men surrounded two men at the bar and when Kitty looked at the men, she let out a soft, audible gasp. She didn’t need to look at Tom to see he was looking in the same direction and had recognized Rarmon. But Kitty noticed someone else as well.

A patron sat at a table with his back to the armed men who were now talking to Rarmon and the man with him. When the man glanced over his shoulder to see what was happening behind him, Kitty saw enough of his face to know it was the strange man they had encountered in the wash room of the hotel. But….why wasn’t he hunkered under his table like most of the other patrons who weren’t in a drunken stupor? That’s when the feline hybrid noticed the band he was wearing on his arm and saw it matched ones the men in the corner watching the situation and carrying weapons stood.

When the leader of the armed men made his move to arrest Rarmon and the man with him, Kitty and Tom knew it was all going to end bad. And not just for Rarmon and his buddy. Did these people know what Rarmon was and what he was capable of doing? To them?

Her eyes darted all around as Kitty tried to determine what Rarmon’s next move was going to be. No doubt it would be one no one would forget but just how severe would all depend on what sort of mood he was in and how well his body was functioning.

Sniper point...

Jack followed the eyes seeing the feet he looked across to Rarmon something wasn’t good they were ambushing them it was obvious they were the suspects. Jack gave Plymuth a healthy nod he opened the top of the tube case pushing his coat to the side he was reaching inside. “We love a little collateral damage it is the army motto after all.”

At the bar...

Rarmon watched the death trooper put his hand on the firearm. “Dangerous stuff firearms.” Rarmon took the glass from the barman giving a wink to him. Rarmon opened his coat enough only for the barman to see the revolver concealed in his coat the barman moved away pretending to serve a different patron. The soldiers made some rather rude comments on his drinking habit saying he should drink oil he shrugged it off after all he didn’t have anything to give him emotions but he took offense to the leak he was an old piece of machinery his lubrication was externally modified sure didn’t give them the right to take the piss. He was slapped with his charge as he heard footsteps echo all around Rarmon smiled as he took his last swig of his pint he had not even seen Kitty or Tom enter but that was when the action all began.

The whole tavern...

Jack let the tube drop to the floor his sniper in his hands keeping it at his hip he heard Plymuth begin to run for the kitchen he let his first shot out the kickback causing the gun to lurch but it was still under control. The bullet flew as he had aimed at this range little could the elements do to move the bullet from its aim smashing into the man furthest from Rarmon at the back of the group flipping him like a ragdoll over the bar. Rarmon’s signal the sharp crack and crunch as the sniper bullet was fired and hit its target he stepped forward smashing the pint glass across the first man’s face the man holding his eyes as the alcohol burned his eyes. Rarmon kept the handle in his grasp as he yanked the revolver from his belt with the other hand the barrel practically in the mouth of the 2nd trooper as he yanked the trigger the drum moving round, the hammer slamming forward. A large portion mainly from the mouth upwards blew onto the ceiling the stupidly high calibre revolver bullet tearing the man’s head off a spray of brains and other pieces even the troopers were slightly repulsed hesitating to bring their weapons to bear giving Rarmon the chance to aim for the next. He pulled the trigger carefully this time the bullet rocketing into the centre of mass causing a torrent of blood to explode from the man’s back as he collapsed in on himself a spray of bullets finally erupted from one of their guns before the spray could trail upwards for Rarmon another sniper round tore open the man’s shoulder the gun falling to the floor as his fingers went limp and he fell back onto the floor screaming. The man still held his burning eyes as the handle of the pint glass pierced his throat by Rarmon who gave a yell to Jack to get cover and fire. Rarmon jogged to the bag as bullets whistled past his head the troopers shooting through the windows in rage at the actions of the duo Rarmon seeing Kitty and Tom “Welcome to the party!!!” Jack took his orders and slowly moved back skilfully moving from cover to cover shooting now and then at windows.

Rarmon reached for the bag slipping the rifle off the side a bullet pinged off his calf a small arms round, He lifted the rifle cocking it with a ram of his open palm. “We could fight our way out!” Firing one handed as he lifted the bag onto his shoulder his bullets not even aimed as they blew apart wall, glass and man alike. Rarmon began walking backwards to the kitchen where Jack had decided to wait reloading the rifle with individual rounds into the magazine. Rarmon stood waiting for Kitty and Tom to move as tracer rounds burned great rending lines across the tavern. “You gonna stay in here you know it’s quite dangerous?” the obvious enjoyment on the robots face if he could have such emotions.

The transports had disappeared over a dune. As Gavin trudged behind the vehicles his sensitive hearing detected a change in the pitch of one of the engines. He recognized that it happened when the transports either significantly increased or decreased in speed and he was sure that one of them had slowed down. He could then hear that sound of one of the dune-buggies fast approaching. There was no place to hide, no place to run, not unless he could bury himself in the sand like a beetle with five seconds.



The transport came flying over the dune and stopped right in front of Gavin. A spray of sand whipped into the air all around them and when it cleared a man was stepping out of the driver's side. He was dressed in a military fashion and had weapons, yet he had not drawn them. Instead he took a few steps away from the vehicle and squinting in the bright light studied Gavin for a moment. As he looked him over, he unclipped a canister from his belt and took a drink from it. Gavin was so thirsty he could practically taste the water and the man knew it. He took a deliberately long drink, wiped his mouth and recapped the canister, then he smiled and tossed it to Gavin.

"You look like you can use a cold drink."

While Gavin satiated his thirst the man introduced himself. "I'm Ranger Midvale, but you can call me Salem. I patrol this area and keep the peace. Why don't you hop in the passenger side, I'll give you a lift to Stonehaven."

The man was relaxed and calm. For all he knew Gavin could be a murderous thief, but he seemed to make up his mind pretty quickly that he could trust him. That or he was a good fighter and extremely confident that he could draw his weapon before the man could attack him. Whatever the reason, Salem Midvale was offering a ride to a settlement of some kind. Civilization! How often would Gavin catch a break like that?

Once he'd greedily downed the water, Gavin gaped up at the man. Clearly the man thought Gavin was fully human and he wasn't about to correct him. Still, it seemed a little too good to be true. Rubbing his fingertips against the palms of his fingerless gloves, Gavin considered this for a moment before peering around at the massive truck.

"Stonehaven?" he asked, "there's . . . there's an actual town out here?" Now a small smile crossed his scruffy face as he turned back to the man. The decision was relatively easy for Gavin. If he continued to plow on in the desert for much longer, he was going to die anyway so what difference did it make if this man wanted to kill him? He knew what he looked like. There was little about Gavin's appearance that betrayed his construction as a fighter. He was fairly certain the man so no threat in the lean man in beat up clothing and Gavin had no intentions of correcting him. All things considered, he couldn't quite believe his luck. "Today's my lucky day," said Gavin, "thank you very much." And with that, the rat-human hybrid climbed into the truck.

Getting in, Gavin immediately and covertly assessed thing, surreptitiously taking in the sounds and smells of the truck and looking around through his sunglasses. He tried to quietly take note of where every weapon was should things go south while conversationally assessing the man who had picked him up. He was also aware of at least one little rat that had apparently hopped along for a ride somewhere within the trucks crowded spaces.

"I didn't think there was much left in the world," said Gavin, his voice still a little hoarse with fatigue and the beginnings of heat exhaustion. "where is this Stonehaven and how did it come to be?"

In its day the desert cruiser that the ranger drove must have been quite the vehicle but since then it had been repaired and modified into a conglomeration of mismatched parts. Even the interior was a patchwork quilt of salvaged scraps. A red coloured glove box, different styled seats even the dashboard was foreign to the original design.

"Yeah, she's a Frankenstein's monster but she'll weather just about any terrain." Commented Salem as he lovingly patted the dashboard.

His metaphor might have been lost to the stranger but Salem figured the man would get his meaning. Not everyone read as much as he did so he was used to the ignorance, still this one had an intelligent look about him. Two in one week, he considered, thinking about the British man that had survived the gauntlet. Now another wayfarer braving the hot desert sands. A coincidence? Perhaps, but he was much one for them.

Salem stepped on the accelerator and the electric engine whirred and climbed the dune with surprising power, jerking their heads back into the seats. Reaching down to the console between them, the ranger pressed a button and a voice resonated through a speaker, "HQ. What's your location, Salem?"

The ranger looked around and spotted a strange rock to his left that looked a lot like a dog. "Just passing 'wolf's rock'," Salem replied, "and I am bringing in a stray."

"Another one?"

"Yeah. Don't worry I don't think he's got any fleas." Mentioned Salem as he looked over to Gavin and amiably smiled.

"Okay, Salem. Over and out."

Salem pressed the button on the console again, ending the communication. He leaned back in his seat and staring out to the horizon pointed to a ridge of red coloured mountains. "That's where we're headed." he told the stranger, "Behind that ridge is Stonehaven. It was a mining refinery. You know what that is? A large plant used to process minerals, in this case ore. Thirteen years ago it was a refuge for a small band of Humans, a sanctuary from the Ballek's, vicious flying aberrations that come out at night. They're all over this area, and if they catch you in the dark you can kiss your ass good bye."

Salem paused and reached his hand into the back seat and and slipped it into an ice filled cooler. From it he procured two dark brown, long necked bottles. He placed one between his legs, and popped the metal stopper on the other. There was a hiss, and a white stream of cool rose into the conditioned air of the vehicles cab.

"When's the last time you had a cold beer?" Asked Salem with a devious smile as he passed the opened bottle to Gavin.

Salem cracked his bottle and took a long pull, savoring the delightful cool brew. "We wash out the bottles and re-use them." he explained. "So, as I was saying, these Ballek's are like flying coyote's, but they're not that smart. We make sure we keep the lights on at night and they stay away, but there's always some fool once in a while who wanders out into the night. Oh, no offense, I didn't mean you. These people know damn well the Ballek's are out there but they go out anyway, and that's where we come in. Five years ago, the Ranger unit was created to help the Peace Keepers safe guard, Stonehaven and over time we have grown in numbers. It's only natural that we deserver a piece of the pie for all our work and those bastards don't want to share the power, so we've reached an impasse. Recently, they've hired mercenary soldiers to help them police the city and enforce their laws, they call them Death Troopers and so we're always on the look out for new talent to help even the odds."

Salem took another drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "So there's the catch, eh, kid? Ah, don't sweat it, we're not gonna force ya to join if you don't want to. I just want you to know our point of view before you hear the other side and you will. What I will do though is extend our hospitality and make you an honourary ranger. All you have to do is wear this arm band and people will know you're with us."

Salem reached down into a compartment by his feet and pulled out a green arm band with an insignia on it and '5026-T', written below it. He also pulled out a leather purse full of coins and tossed them into the man's lap. "Those are credits, y'know, money." he told him, "There's enough there to keep ya good for a month if ya use 'em sparingly enough. There yours if ya wear our colour, but like I said, I'm not gonna pressure you."

They drove on through the desert. It was the height of day but inside the vehicle the temperature was quite comfortable. By now, Gavin probably would have been dead if he would stayed on foot, but instead he was in cool transport on his way to civilization.

"You'll find that Stonehaven is a progressive place." Salem started again, "Humanoids are allowed. The more they look like a Human, the more they're accepted, but Animal Mutants are strictly forbidden, nothing that is more animal than man gets in. It was a policy created ten years ago to stop the witch hunts. Some bastard would get his knickers in a knot over something and start spreading mutant rumours about their enemy, so it was decided that all Humanoids would be welcome. Still, it's not perfect. Segregation still exists, and the upper crust Pure Strain Humans still look down their noses at us, but that'll soon change, hell most of them can't even tell whose Human and who ain't anymore."

In the distance, reaching up over a ridge of rock, Gavin could see the silver spires of what could only be Stonehaven. As they neared it, Salem turned slightly and drove parallel a double line of train tracks that appeared to be maintained.

"The tracks run all the way to Stonehaven. Back there," Salem thumbed behind them, "are several warehouses brimming with cars of coal, a fuel that most of Stonehaven runs on but those bloody Ballek's nest there so occasionally we have to risk our lives by driving into the darkness to snatch a car or two. We call it running the gauntlet. Several years ago, we tried blowing the roof off of one of the warehouses and let the light in, but you see those creatures also eat the coal and from it they produce some sort bi-product they use to make their nests. It's highly flammable and all over the place. We were lucky, just one partially empty warehouse went up. The whole place could have exploded, and it burns so hot that the coal would be ruined."

Salem slowed down in front of a large steel door in the mountainside. "This is our private entrance." he said as he initiated the communicator and requested of the person he was speaking to, to open the East gate. The giant door slowly pulled apart, revealing a dark tunnel which Salem drove into. There were a few curves, but the tunnel was fairly straight and eventually, Gavin could see day light again. They emerged from the passage into a narrow street, that wound its way through a corridor of machinery that had been converted into dwellings. He drove for a few more minutes until they were past the crowds and stopped in at quiet cross road shaded by the massive and ancient machines above them.

"So this is the end of the road." Said Salem, "Its probably best you see Stonehaven for yourself, my offer still stands though. The armband for the money. It's a good deal but I won't be offended if you want to go your own way. It was a pleasure meeting you..." Salem held out his hand and realized that he had never got the stranger's name, "... never did catch your name."

Tom , glanced at Kitty and gestured discreatly towards the door of the kitchen. They both moved with the spped and stealth of their breed. As Tom skirted past one of the fallen and wounded peace keeper, he reached down, picked up a shotgun and two automatic pistols. Extending a claw from his hand he sliced through the Peace Keeper's throat, then his bandelero and ammunition belt, unseen in the confusion. "Just borrowing these." Tom said as he handed the automatic pistols and ammuntion belt to Kitty. Sliding the bandelaro over shis shoulder, within moments they were through the kitchen door. Tom looked at Rarmon and said "It is nice to see you again, I see we're all doing as good as ever .... Who's your friend?"

Even as Plymuth rose from his chair and started for the kitchen doorway bullets whizzed past his ears. A drunk's head erupted to his right as another man trying to flea was struck in the back. It was chaos, and Plymuth knew if he didn't make it to cover he'd be next one lying in a pool of his own blood.

In order to make himself less of a target, Plymuth dove the last three strides of the distance, pushing the revolving doors open with his hands and landing on his feet after a smooth shoulder roll. Springing to his feet he immediately noticed that the kitchen was vacant and a table had been pushed under a high, open window. The server and the cooks had obviously escaped through it, but would the exit still be passable? Still in motion, Plymuth leapt atop the table and crouching low, quickly peeked out of it. He barely managed to pull his head back before some peacekeeper took a shot at him.

"Shit!" Cursed Plymuth.

He should have gotten out when he had the chance now he was trapped with a pack of trigger happy soldiers. Anxiously he searched for another way out, but it seemed the window was the only way. There was another door in the back, but he knew it was only cold storage room; a death trap. Plymuth was about to take another look out the window when a barrage of heavy caliber rounds came bursting through the wall forcing him to duck and cover on the table top. Clouds of plaster filled the air obscuring the vision of the people that entered into the kitchen, and taking advantage of their temporary blindness, Plymuth unslung his spear gun in one smooth motion and trained it on the strangers. Lying on the table with his gun trained on the biggest one, he held his fire, since he wasn't sure if they were friendlies. Little did he suspect that the two people who had ran in were Tom and Kitty, but the white haze was clearing fast. He thought maybe the big one was that cyborg and even if it wad he wasn't sure how that old heap of scrap would react.

"Keep yer guns off o' me or I'll pin ye to the $%&#ing wall!" Growled Plymuth in his distinct English timbre.

As the place went to hell in a hand basket, Kitty was more than happy to follow Tom where ever he wanted to take her. When Rarmon noticed them and asked them if they were gonna stay or go, the choice was obvious. Go and go now. So when Tom quickly made his way towards the room in the back, Kitty was more than happy to follow. Of course Rarmon cleared the path for them, which Kitty was very happy for, so when they finally made it into the back room with the dust settling, Kitty was a little unnerved to hear the threat from Plymuth.

As a reaction to his words, Kitty instantly held her hands up in front of her as a gesture of surrender but a low growl did slip past her lips. She recognized the voice and the scent of the man that was mingled in with the plaster dust, blood and gun powder smell but she really couldn’t see him fall that well.

Daring not to approach or go any further, she waited for Tom and Rarmon to realize they had a weapon of some sort trained on them to see what the next step was going to be. If there even was one to be made.

Gavin took the beer tentatively as he listened to the man's explanation. He'd seen the people in the lab drink these and begin to act silly after a few, but he'd never given thought to the idea of trying one. He took a surreptitious whiff and wrinkled his nose in surprised dissatisfaction before he took a sip. The bitter taste made him screw up his face but he recovered quickly and choked down the swig before returning his face to its usual passive expression and passed the beer to his other hand out of Salem's sight.

When the jingling pouch landed in Gavin's lap, the passive expression on his face faltered and he blinked for a moment behind his dark glasses. He turned and looked back at Salem, a conflicted expression falling over him though there was no way Salem would be able to see the true nature as to why. For a long moment, he could say nothing, his mind churning in ways it never had before. Gavin had been created and bred to be a soldier: A specialized covert fighter to work as an invisible nightmare to a now destroyed organization that nearly fizzled from his mind when the world fizzled from being. Now, he was left confronted with what would have been his only purpose after what felt like a whole second lifetime of freedom. Now, faced with a decision, he found himself conflicted. Being a soldier was all he had known up until recently. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with it now that it was presented voluntarily.

After a while, Gavin became aware of the pause and smiled appreciatively. Picking up the pouch, he handed it back to Salem.

"Can I get back to you after I've looked around?"

Salem gave Gavin a uncharacteristically bright smile, in fact the man had some of the cleanest teeth the hybrid soldier had seen in a while. Taking back the bag of money, he then reached into his pocket and tossed Gavin a smaller purse of coins.

"Keep it." he told him, "The pawn shops are merciless and you'll end up bartering half you own for a few coins. You should..."

"Salem! You there!" Interrupted a voice over the radio.

"Yeah?" Answered Salem, the man's tone of voice concerning him.

"All hell is breaking loose at the Dozer!" The man informed him, "We've got some rogue soldiers mixing it up with a team of Death Troopers and a few Peacekeepers."

"Well." Said Salem, somewhat relieved, "I think they can take care of themselves." Then a small smile curled the side of his mouth, "Tell the men to hang back, Gurder. If the Peacekeepers drop the ball we'll move in and clean up the mess."

"Got it, Salem. Over and out."

Salem swung his head wearily toward, Gavin. "You might wanna steer clear of the Bull Dozer tavern." he told him, pointing down the street, "Big fire fight going on. Welcome to Stonehaven!"