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Whiskey They're coming. Saying it that way sounds so dramatic, doesn't it. Most likely, they were planning to head on up to Duchess', there was a lot more poo poo there. And then, they're going to notice the distinctive smell of the Grubber running, and then they're going to want grub. That's fine. What's not fine is if they don't want to pay for it. Let's scratch that. They don't want to pay for it. Nobody wants to pay for it. The job, mine, Roger's, Yusuf's and Ba's, is to make it so that paying's a better option. Usually we do. Sometimes we can't. Then we make sure they don't get fed. You dig? I hit the button, the buzzing starts. Steez wired up this intercom thing. Works like poo poo, but even that's a huge advantage. While I wait for someone down below to answer - should be Roger, but you never really know - time to size up the situation. I'm seeing pickups, four of them. Driving in a line. It's hard to see details from up here. Gotta hit up someone for binocs, but they're tough to come by. What I don't see, and what does seem promising, is that they aren't technical'd up, so no heavy weapons. Doesn't mean they don't have plenty of firepower, though. Buzz. Read a Sitch: 2d6+1 3 Can't see poo poo through this Fog and dust. Not good. Buzz.
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Jun 16, 2014 01:21
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| # ¿ Apr 20, 2024 04:24 |
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Whiskey loving Jack Daniels. He and I, we don't get along. Liandra thought it had to do with our names, but I didn't get what she was going on about and then the shooting started and I haven't seen her in a while and you know what none of that poo poo matters anyway. "On my way down," I say back into the buzzing transceiver, and curse to the air. Motherfucker. They're patched-up, right. So are they looking for a fight, or are they loving paranoid and about to go guns blazing? Gonna go with my gut. Either I'm right or I'm about to be wandering again. "Stall them 'til I get there," I shout to the wire, and slam my visor closed and get down the ladder as fast as I loving can.
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Jun 17, 2014 05:00
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Whiskey poo poo, this seems weird. "Jack," I call out. "look. My weapons are down, man. No need to fight us. What's got you so damned spooked?" Seriously, there's no time for pleasantries. "Roger, chill." He's not gonna like that, but he's gonna listen. Or else this is gonna get a lot messier than it needs to be. I think Roger knows that, but will he accept it? I wonder what's in the truck beds, but I get the feeling J.D. isn't going to tell me, either. Then again, I'm pretty sure the last time I saw Jack we hit it off worse than he and Roger are right now. If he's running scared, though, I think Jack knows I can help him...if he makes it worth our while. Lots of options, but ball's in his court right now.
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Jun 22, 2014 22:24
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