I&C - Chapter 7 - El Paso

[Chaser1]

Chapter 7 - El Paso
Current Party:
Drake
Alec
Lori
Nick
Bruce
Champion
Lt. Juganlee
Cirrus
Barry
Kira
Ripper
Kival
Rhianna
Jedite
Ranma
***********************************************
June 20th, 102 P.A.

Mavis’ explosive exit ripples through the camp like a shockwave. Even Rhianna, who has seen more than her share of strange things, pauses in bewilderment. oO(Why would someone just… end themselves like that?)Oo His sudden departure cuts straight through her introductions with Barry and Ranma, leaving the moment hanging awkwardly in the desert air.

Drake sprints out of the Mark V, boots thudding, “What in the hell happened?”

Barry frowns, still trying to piece it together, “He just… killed himself.” As Jenna stares, unable to believe it.

"I need sleep! Shut the F@#$ UP!" Alec shouts, then closes his eyes again.

Nick wakes to the unpleasant sensation of Mavis raining down on him. He’s unfazed until Mavis’ head lands squarely on his sleeping bag. Nick sighs, grabs it, ignites it, and watches it burn to ash. oO(That should keep wild animals from feeding on him… and saves time digging a hole)Oo

Bruce sits up, looks around, shrugs, and immediately goes back to sleep.

Others scavenge what’s left of Mavis’ gear. Drake quietly gathers the rest, hauls it into the APC, stores it, and returns to his journal. His face is unreadable. Not cold, just… distant.

Nick tosses the ashes into the wind, “Rest in peace, you crazy bastard.” He whispers it like Mavis might still hear him. Then he lies back down and drifts off.

Ripper clears his throa, "The APC isn’t big enough for all the hovercycles and bikes. You’ll have to ride your own vehicles.” He walks over to Champion and Lori. “You two ride in the Mark V. We’ll make better time. Everyone! Load your gear and be ready to buy equipment once we reach El Paso.”

He continues, voice steady and pragmatic, “We’ll need a day or two in El Paso. Gather info, relax and prepare. After that, we split into four groups. Drake and I talked it over. Once we leave El Paso, we’ll split into two or three groups; not too small to be weak, not too large to attract trouble.” He hops onto his motorcycle and tests the instruments.

Armin steps forward, guilt written across his face, “I’m really sorry, guys… but I’m not risking Mexico. I’ve heard too many stories. I’ll stay in El Paso for a bit, help out, then head north,” as he hands Ripper his money back.

Ripper nods, “I’m glad you decided now and not later. Good luck, my friend.”

Jenna approaches Drake, “Do you mind if I go with him? Maybe check on Lucas? I could take Bruce.”

Drake hesitates, thinking, oO(I don’t think that’s a goo…)Oo but her expression softens him. “Okay. But I need Bruce. Do one thing for me. Take Lucas back to Ishpeming. Keep the gang safe. Who knows what’s happened.” He blinks hard, holding back tears, “Be careful.”

He turns to Armin, “Can you do that for me? I’ll pay you.”

Armin nods.

Bruce watches her leave, then watches Nick, who’s on top of the Mark V with Karita, practicing technique with sticks.

Nick calls down from the roof, “I think we should get ready. Everyone’s heading out. We can keep practicing or wait until El Paso.”

Kira, Rhianna, Lori, and Ranma stare at the scorched crater. Cirrus shakes his head, “I miss that guy already. I suppose that juicer is gonna be relieved when he gets back.” Referring to Chris.

Drake wipes his eyes, “What makes you think that two‑faced jackass is coming back?”

“Because he cared about us,” Bruce casually replies, “Even if he worked for your enemy. People have hearts.”

Drake walks back into the Mark V, silent. He slips past Buddy and into the driver’s seat.
“Robbie, prepare all systems. Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lori kneels by the crater and recites a brief elven prayer before returning to the APC. As it rolls out, she watches the desert through the back turret hatch, binoculars steady.

Champion notices Rhianna walking with Ranma. He shrugs, trying not to care, but his silence grows heavier.

Barry reorganizes the truck bed, making space for Kival’s hoverbike, "We should build a docking port for it,” he says.

Kira considers the idea. Kival lights up, excited at the possibility.

The caravan begins to stir, engines rumbling, gears shifting, people moving with purpose. Despite the grim start, there’s a spark in the air; the sense that something big waits over the horizon.

*****************************************************
To’Mas Salinas steps into the alley like a man walking into someone else’s nightmare. The digital blur across his vision flickers, refusing to settle. oO(Another bad dream)Oo he thinks, though the cold weight in his chest says otherwise.

Hours earlier, he’d torn off a strange antenna laden collar. The moment it came free, it detonated in a small, violent pop; enough to blacken his bionic hand. Now, as he glances back toward the street, the alley stretches behind him like a throat swallowing light. Old newspapers, empty whiskey bottles, and a few El Paso drifters litter the ground. None look at him. oO(Slums… great)Oo

He turns forward. A massive garage door looms at the end of the alley, set into a brick building that feels abandoned in every way except the two men standing before it. They hold Wilks laser torches, grinning with the kind of smiles that mean trouble.

He glances back again, oO(Uh oh. Three more)Oo Five men total, all wearing urban assault armor without helmets.

“Well, Juan! Look what we got here!” one of them jeers. “Spare parts! HAHAHA!”

The Hispanic kid steps forward, his predatory eyes locked on To’Mas, “You in our turf, tin grin. BIG mistake.” He nods, and the circle tightens.

The bum suddenly scatters, bolting out of the alley. The gang lets him pass, never taking their eyes off To’Mas.

“I don’t know who you are,” To’Mas says, voice slightly metallic and unfamiliar even to himself, “but if you’re planning to attack me, you might need some spare parts of your own.”

Juan notices the vibro‑blades extending from To’Mas’ arms. He hesitates, stepping back.
“What’re you gonna do with those, gringo?” His hand reaches behind his back. The others instinctively retreat from him as he draws a Shemerrian rail gun, a monstrous weapon that hums with lethal promise, “I bet mine is bigger than yours.” His mechanical eyebrows lift in amusement.

All five men bolt. “Fuck that, man!” one shouts as they vanish around the corner.

To’Mas stands alone again. Confused. He looks down at his hands... all bionic. He touches his face... nothing. He can't feel touch. Even his voice sounds alien. oO(What happened?)Oo

He lets the gang go. Then shoulders the rail gun, retracts his blades and begins checking his gear with the cold efficiency of someone who doesn’t remember learning how.

He searches for his ID. Nothing. He stomps out of the alley, wandering the city, hoping someone... anyone... might spark recognition.

His pack contains supplies, weapons… and a water pistol. His mechanical brows furrow.
oO(Seriously?)Oo

He sighs, his voice sounds strange, metallic and wrong. He can’t remember anything, yet fragments of familiarity and alienation flicker through him like static.

******************************************************
Barry launches into one of his trademark tactical monologues; the kind that starts practical and ends somewhere between conspiracy theory and shopping list, “Always stay in pairs. Or threes. Preferably threes. We need radios. Secure ones. My truck doesn’t even have comms. We need comms between my truck and the APC. And handhelds. And maybe an Iron Maiden APC! Those come with secure comms. But that’ll cost a few million. So… after we get paid...”

Everyone else quietly prepares to explore and shop, letting Barry’s voice fade into background noise like a malfunctioning intercom.

They roll onto a paved road leading into Merchant Avenue, the commercial heart of El Paso. Restaurants, shops, neon signs, and questionable entertainment crowd the street. After days of dust, monsters, and exploding teammates, it’s practically paradise.

People of every kind wander the avenue, including humans, d‑bees, mutants, and CS soldiers in both uniform and armor. Some shop. Some patrol. Some look like they’re trying very hard not to be noticed.

Bruce and Drake immediately spot the ganger types lurking in alleys and rundown storefronts. Mutant cats dart between trash bins, hunting scraps or vermin. Dog Boys, PSI‑stalkers, and less‑friendly d‑bees linger in the darker corners. Merchant Avenue is a haven for pickpockets, petty crime, and questionable smells.

Half the side streets are dirt roads barely pretending to be roads. Locals pause to stare at the convoy rolling in, especially the APC.

Drake and Ripper both scowl at the attention. “Well, this is unexpected,” Drake mutters. “We should keep the APC out of El Paso. It’ll attract thieves… and the Coalition.”

Ripper shrugs. “Expected, honestly. But we can leave a guard crew with the Mark V.”
He opens the side bay door, “Alright, everyone. Four groups. One stays with the Mark V. We rotate shifts so everyone gets a chance to shop. Try to finish today so we can relax tomorrow.”

Karita twirls his practice sticks like a baton performer who’s itching to hit someone, “If you’d like, we can stay and spar. I still have the sticks.”

Nick grins and nods, climbing back atop the transport.

Lori peeks past Ripper and spots a magic shop. Her adrenaline spikes like someone just whispered half‑off spell components.

An odd panther‑like creature pokes its head into the bay door. It looks calm. Curious. Possibly judging them. The group stares back. The panther blinks.

*************************************
Marcus, being a member of the wild cats gang, notices the newcomers into El Paso. A convoy of hovercycles, a truck and an APC Mark V Coalition transport. He sees the opportunity to make friends. oO(These people looked stacked!)Oo A large man with spiked hair, peers out of the APC door and begins ordering everyone to split up. oO(They seem more accepting than most)Oo

He peeks in, they all peek back. oO(Huh...)Oo
*********************************
Lori eyes the panther with cautious curiosity. Her parents’ stories whisper through her memory; tales of feline beings from their home world, some noble, some… less so.
oO(If the Wolfen can exist in society, she thinks, why not a feline race?)Oo

But the magic shop across the street steals her attention. Its glowing sigils and dusty windows practically call her name. She hesitates, then chooses her companions: Ranma and Rhianna, “Want to come with me?” she asks, excitement barely contained.

Champion immediately begins following Ranma and Rhianna, silently, intensely, and with the kind of stare that suggests he’s trying to burn a hole through the back of Rhianna’s head. He never looks away for long.

The panther sits and watches them wander by, paying him little attention. oO(Huh... Okay then)Oo

Nick calls out from atop the APC, “Hey! Could I get more money? Gear isn’t cheap! Actually, why don’t you give us equipment money in addition to what you’re paying us?”
He leans toward Karita, “I guess we’ll keep practicing for a bit, then head out for gear. Sound good?” Karita shrugs, obviously in no need of anything new, cept maybe a warm meal.

Jedite decides to stay with the Mark V, “Go on ahead. I don’t need anything right now. Just don’t take too long, we have more important things to do than shopping.” He checks the area, making sure everything is locked and secure.

Barry locks his truck, hooks a charging cable to the APC, and pats the hood affectionately, “Keep her safe. I’m going shopping.”

He pulls something large, covered in a green tarp, from the truck bed. He already knows his destination: Halloway Armory & Outfitter, where he plans to get new teeth for his juicer chainsaw and silver‑coat the rest. oO(I should swing by the magic shops)Oo he thinks, oO(Maybe find magical water pistols. And check if the water’s drinkable. Oh! And see if any dealers have mega, crash, or similar)Oo

Meanwhile, the panther continues peeking into the bay door, calm, curious, and possibly wondering why this group is so weird.

******************************************************
Lori, Ranma, Rhianna, and Champion make their way toward the magic shop, each with a different level of enthusiasm. Lori practically floats. Ranma strolls like he’s casing the place for water‑based artillery. Rhianna keeps her guard up. Champion… mostly keeps his eyes glued to Rhianna, which isn't subtle and not helping.

The moment they step inside, the shop hits them with a wave of incense and mystery. Aisles stretch out in every direction with books, jars, vials, tiny boxes, and shelves stacked with everything from spell components to dusty curiosity. One shelf even holds pre‑cataclysm novels, their covers faded but intact.

At the far counter sits an odd green‑skinned man with wiry black hair slicked back beneath a cowboy hat, complete with a feather sticking out like it’s trying to escape. A coyote‑like dog scampers around the shop, sniffing everything and everyone with over-enthusiastic curiosity.

The green‑skinned man pops up with theatrical delight, “Welcome to my shop! What may I help you with?”

Several clerks emerge from the back room carrying more books and scrolls. Some shelves display pre‑cataclysm artifacts, including cassette tapes, chronographs, and aluminum cans labeled Budweiser, Pepsi, Mountain Dew... all unopened, all suspiciously well‑preserved. A dark purple bottle labeled MD 20/20 sits like a relic of questionable decisions and horrible days succeeding consumption.

A massive glossary book sits on the front counter, listing the store’s inventory. Lori looks like she’s found her spiritual homeland. She can feel ambient magical energy drifting from the back room... faint, but unmistakable.

A blonde, scaly‑skinned clerk steps forward, “We carry everything related to scholarly pursuits and magical knowledge. Also, water pistols. Very useful around here.”

Ranma perks up, “Yeah, I’d like anti‑vamp stuff. And water pistols. What’s the biggest water‑gun‑thingy you’ve got? I normally use power armor, so I can carry the heavy artillery.”

Lori jumps in, “Are those Techno-Wizard (TW) water guns? Also, I’m a mage. Do you have spells I can learn? And where can I find silver arrowheads?”

The man at the back smiles, “Yes, we have spells for sale! What would you like?” as he flips the glossary around. Most spells are marked common, making them easy to learn. The rest are glyph‑inscribed, glowing faintly.

The female clerk presents Ranma with a massive Techno‑Wizard watercannon in a wooden case, “This one is 150,000 credits. Very powerful against vampires. Or… is it out of your price range?”

Ranma grins, “Oh, I’m sure most of this is out of my price range. But my friends might help. For me... I’m looking for water pistols. Anything around 5,000 credits?”

She nods, “We have scrolls and non‑TW weapons. What interests you?”

Lori offers to buy Ranma a TW water shotgun; the same one she just purchased. Ranma accepts with grateful enthusiasm.

Then Lori asks about Sense Evil, Befuddle, Telekinesis, and Carpet of Adhesion. The man squints, “They’re scrolls, you know…” He points to the prices:

Sense Evil — 1,000 credits
Telekinesis — 3,000 credits
Befuddle — 2,000 credits
Carpet of Adhesion — 4,000 credits

Lori frowns, “I was hoping to be taught a spell or two. Oh well.”

The man perks up, “Well… I could teach you a spell. But it costs more. And it takes time.”

Lori beams, “I’ll take Telekinesis, please.”
****************************************
OOC: We have yet another gap in posts...

Gruber turns to Romana with casual suspicion, “Would you know where a decent arcane shop would be?”

Kival, meanwhile, is making faces at the ground; the kind people make when they’re trying to remember if they dropped something important or stepped in something unfortunate. Then he spots it. He bends down and picks up a twisted piece of antenna attached to a slag of metal. It looks scorched, warped… and disturbingly familiar.

“It’s like the collars back in the cave near Empire City.”

To’Mas overhears the word collar and freezes. His mechanical fingers tighten around his weapon.

Ripper waves Romana over just as To’Mas shoulders his gun with unsettling speed. “Very well then.” He strides toward Armin, “What do you know about that collar? And where is this Empire City?”

Romana prepares to guide everyone, but Kival speaks first, voice low, eyes distant, “Well… when we were in Empire City, we got hired to kill demons draining people of life and soul. They targeted farmers. When we found them, they were creatures alright, but peaceful. My guess? The collars were mind control. We got out fast. The whole place gave us the creeps.”

Gruber smiles at To’Mas; the kind of smile that says I know something you don’t, and I’m enjoying it, “Looks like you were being controlled by someone then, wouldn’t you say?”

He finds his hover‑jeep parked around the corner, not far from To’Mas’ bike, and hops over the side like he’s auditioning for a low‑budget action vid.

Ripper motions for Kival to follow him toward the jeep.

Gruber nods at Romana and gestures for her to lead. She turns, cloak swaying, and guides the group toward the magic shop; the place where answers might be hiding… or where even more questions are waiting.
********************************************
Cirrus finishes his shopping spree like a kid let loose in a supernatural hardware store. He picks up 150 rounds of silver bullets, two TW machine guns, eight TW globes of daylight, a silver cross, five stakes, two vibro‑knives, and a UV searchlight, which is excellent for roasting vampires like overcooked marshmallows.

Then he asks, with absolute seriousness, where he can buy water balloons and cybernetics.

The clerk blinks.

“So… I guess that’s a no. You can’t use Techno‑Wizard weapons.” Cirrus shrugs, gathers his armor and gear, then holds up one of the Desert Eagles he bought, “One more thing. Where can I get holsters made for these?”

Kira smiles at him. He looks like an oversized child, possibly with a pituitary disorder, wandering through the world’s strangest toy shop.

He pays, leaves the shop, and heads back to the Mark V to drop off his new arsenal.
*********************************************
Meanwhile, Barry has already wandered up the street toward the hospital. On the way, he spots a lone Trogg ogre adjusting the juicer bio‑comp on his chest. M.O.M. implants protrude from his skull like chrome mushrooms.

Barry strolls over, laughing, “You must be stupid or something, man. You can’t get juicer conversion with implants. They don’t mix.” He taps the side of his head like he’s delivering medical advice.

The Trogg shoves him. “What’s your problem, gringo?” he growls in a Spanish accent.
“My mother didn’t hug me when I was a child.” then smirks.

Barry squints at the implants, “So how does the old brain‑box mix with the mummy chip and juicer drugs? Didn’t think they could combine.”

The Trogg extends his hand, “Shows what you know. Name’s Pete Hodge.”
***********************************************
OOC: Some more missed posts...

Marcus Antonius, the panther, observer and occasional philosopher, watches an old man whisper something to Drake. The moment Drake walks off, Marcus pads over, “What did you tell that guy?”

The old man stiffens. Marcus can feel him trying to shield his surface thoughts, like someone slamming mental shutters closed. The man frowns, “Why are you trying to find out about them? Drake is a powerful political figure. He carries a secret. He'll be one of the eight saviors. If we all pray..."

Marcus flinches, oO(Alrighty then. Coo‑coo)Oo “What secret does he have? And what’s he supposed to save us from?”

The old man smiles serenely, “I don’t know. I only saw it in a precognition. He will save us from a force more powerful than the Coalition or the vampires of the south. Even I cannot see what it is.”

Marcus sighs and returns to watching Drake’s chaotic entourage, which is always more entertaining than prophecy.

That’s when he spots a lone figure sneaking toward Kival’s bike.

Robbie’s voice booms from the APC, “INTRUDER ALERT!”

Nick is mid‑practice when he hears it. Bruce bursts out of the APC, skids to a stop, and spots a dogboy behind the vehicle trying to hotwire Jedite’s hovercycle.

Karita is too busy trying to convince Jedite to spar to notice anything.

Bruce grins mischievously at Nick, "Go beat him up.”

Nick grins back, hops down, rounds the corner, and leans against the APC like he’s about to deliver a lecture, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Before the half‑man, half‑dog can reply, Nick thrust‑kicks him off the hovercycle, “I don’t take kindly to people stealing my friend’s shit!”

The dogboy yelps as Nick starts punching him and scrambles away, only to see Marcus barreling toward it like a furry missile.

A pillar of flame erupts from the asphalt, blocking its escape. Nick calls out, “I don’t see why you’re running. You’re a dead man… err… dog.”

Then the dogboy does the unexpected and runs through the fire!

Marcus lunges to tackle it but misses, skidding across the pavement. The dogboy rolls, pats out the flames, and bolts. Marcus charges after it, trying to grab its tail, leg, anything, but the creature slips away. Marcus keeps chasing. The dogboy keeps squealing as it flees.

Nick strolls back to the group, “Ah, that damn cat can have him. I scared him enough. No need to kill him. He won’t try that again.” He climbs back onto the Mark V, “Man, when are the others coming back? It can’t take that long to buy equipment.”

Marcus eventually returns, having lost the dogboy somewhere between panic, fire, and feline enthusiasm. He resumes his post, watching everyone around the Mark V with the patience of a predator… and the exhaustion of a babysitter.

********************************************
Lori, Champion, Ranma, and Rhianna notice a young blonde girl lingering near the magic shop window, staring at the displays like she’s trying to decide whether magic is real or just aggressively overpriced.

Seconds later, Ripper and Kival enter the shop… along with a well‑built guy sporting spiked blonde hair and a juicer bio‑comp strapped to his chest. Lori squints. He looks familiar, but in the vague, 'did I see you in a wanted poster or a tavern brawl?' way.

Outside, a cyborg with a rifle the size of a small canoe skids to a stop on his hovercycle.

Lori asks for directions to the armory... she still wants silver arrowheads. The blonde, scaly clerk gives her directions. Lori already knows that Kira, Alec, Cirrus, and Barry already went that way.

Lori greets Ripper, Kival, and Armin, “So… who are the new faces?”

Rhianna frowns at Armin, “I thought you left.”

“Not… yet?” Armin says, sounding like someone who hasn’t decided whether he’s staying for dinner or fleeing the country.

Romana, Gruber, and To’Mas walk into the shop.

Ripper thanks Romana, then leans close to Lori and whispers, “Well THAT is your arch‑nemesis, Gruber.”

Lori and Champion both turn to look. Gruber, the blonde‑eyed man who’s been dodging Drake since Ishpeming, smiles warmly and waves like he’s greeting old friends at a barbecue, “Pleased to finally meet you, Lorianna.” He nods to Champion, “And thank you for your town’s help back in New Lazlo.”

He gestures to the blonde girl and the borg, “These are my two new friends. To’Mas and… uh…” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember Romana’s name, “Miss… uh… you.”

Romana gives him a look that could peel paint. Gruber sighs in defeat, "Sorry..."

Lori studies Romana, definitely spirited, possibly a spellcaster. To’Mas, meanwhile, is a fully decked‑out borg who looks around the shop like he’s seeing magic scrolls for the first time in his life. Lori swears she hears him chuckle and scoff while browsing.

Ripper turns to Ranma, “Well, we’ve got radio equipment for everyone; wrist radios.”

Gruber nods politely to Rhianna, “I don’t know you. How are you?”

She ignores him.

Zalfeel, the shop owner, smiles from behind his desk, “Hmm… that isn’t tension I smell, is it?”

Kival scans the shop, realizes he needs absolutely nothing, and immediately asks for directions to the armory. He hands Ripper a few wrist radios, “I’m gonna get my bike. I feel naked walking around this place. I’ll meet you guys at the armory.” He scurries out like a nervous squirrel.

Lori sighs, “I can work with him. I may not like him, but I’m not a hothead like some of our team. Can I get one of those wrist radios now?”

To’Mas turns to Gruber, “What exactly do we need here?” Then points at the radios, “I’ll take one of those.”

He turns to Lori as Ripper hands him one, “Are you talking to me, ma’am?”

“Umm… not really.” Lori side‑eyes him, “Who are you, may I ask? And are you joining the expedition?”

“My name is To’Mas, and yes, I am joining the expedition. I did neglect to ask one thing; what is the purpose of this, ma’am?”

Lori blinks, “I’m afraid I don’t understand. The purpose of what?”

“The expedition, of course.”

She stares dumbfounded, “You joined an expedition without even asking what it was for?”

To’Mas’ mechanical shoulders lift in a shrug.

“Well… basically, Ripper is searching for a magic artifact. Problem is... it’s in vampire territory.”

“Oh.” Another scoff and shrug, "Magic eh?"

*****************************
Nick hops from the APC and walks around, seeing Kival, he asks, "Where are the others?"

"He's with Lori and Ripper and others at the magic shop." he pauses, "I reckon that they're just about finished."

"Perfect. Time to go shopping." Nick starts up the street, calling over his shoulder, "Hey, Karita, coming?" He has lofty dreams of tracking down a top-tier blade and the exact, elusive parts needed to patch up the battered SAMAS.

In the background, Marcus and the dogboy are still merrily running in circles, burning through an alarming amount of energy. Marcus still can't catch it.

****************************************************
Barry steps into the armory with Pete, his eyes landing on Alec and Kira. He turns to Pete with a grin. "Looks like we came to the right place. Anything else on our shopping list?"

Before Pete can answer, Barry walks over to Alec. "Where’d Cirrus slip off to? I’m just grabbing a few last-minute items before meeting the others at the magic shop. Are you two wrapped up here?"

"Cirrus went back to the APC," Alec mutters, barely looking up as he compares ammo clips, weighing cost per round against firepower.

Kira gives a quick smirk. "See you later, then."

Leaving them to their gear, Barry heads down to the magic shop. He peeks through the entrance and spots Armin, Lori, Ripper, Champion, and Rhianna gathered inside, alongside three unfamiliar faces: a heavily armed borg, a striking blonde woman, and a muscular blonde juicer.
********************************
All eyes fall on Barry the moment he strolls into the magic shop, mostly because he’s being tailed by a towering, eight-foot ogre with a juicer harness and M.O.M. implants.

To’Mas, entirely ignoring the spectacle, stares intently at a TK water pistol in his hands. "Hmm, hold on. Vampires... Accessing memory banks... Well now, that makes sense. I must have been partly designed to combat them." He turns the pistol over, squinting at the solid casing. "Though how one refills this if the cap is permanently sealed remains a mystery."

"Hi all, I'm back!" Barry announces cheerfully. "I see you've met a few locals. I ran into a juicer named Pete Hodge over by the armory. Seems like this town is crawling with 'em, which explains the juicer football league, or vice versa. Reckon I oughta sign up for a few games. I reckon I could kick some serious arse!"

Romana gives him a brief, indifferent glance before immediately returning to the magic items on display.

Seeing his opening, Barry decides it's time to unleash the charm. As if on cue, his rugged cowboy hat "accidentally" topples from his head, tumbling to the floor at Romana's feet. Barry flashes a sly, practiced grin and bends down to retrieve it, taking painstaking care to flex every single muscle in the process. His tightly fitted gear leaves nothing to the imagination, accentuating his sculpted torso, bulging biceps, and rock-hard quads in full cinematic glory.

He rises at a glacial, agonizingly dramatic pace. Swiping a loose fringe of brown hair from his eyes, he swoops the hat back onto his head, adjusts the brim with two fingers, and casts a smoldering wink her way, "Greetings, m'lady," Barry purrs, pitching his voice an octave lower. "My name is Belarsarious Vinous, and I am at your humble service. But... you may call me Barry."

Romana doesn't even blink. She glares blankly at a crystal ball, executing a masterclass in pretending he doesn't exist. The silence in the room is deafening.

Lori aggressively clears her throat, eager to break the awkward tension. "Well! It was lovely meeting you all, but I need to head over to the armory for a few things. See you later." She turns toward the door, sweeping up Ranma, Champion, and a stoic Rhianna in her wake. "Oh and Ripper? You might want to look into getting us some extra vehicles. Bye!"
********************************************
Lori arrives at the armory, a bustling hive of activity with patrons streaming in and out of the reinforced heavy doors. She's escorted straight to the main service counter, landing right behind Kira and Alec, the latter currently locked in a desperate, one-man war against retail markup.

He leans over the counter, gesturing aggressively at a stack of ammunition while offering the clerk a relentless barrage of questionable logic to secure a discount.

The clerk’s eye twitches. Recognizing a dead-end negotiation when she sees one, the woman smoothly pivots away from Alec and beams at Lori. "Welcome, miss! How can I help you today?"

Alec pauses, slump-shouldered, and gives Lori a half-hearted, utterly defeated smile. "Well... this isn't going too frickin' well."

Lori offers a sympathetic nod to Alec and Kira before turning her best polite smile on the clerk. "I'd like a dozen silver arrowheads, please."

No haggling. No debate. Lori hands over two hundred and forty credits, and the clerk instantly produces a padded case filled with gleaming, pristine silver tips. Closing the transaction with supreme efficiency, the clerk turns back to Alec with a sweet, lethal grin. "See now? Wasn't that easy? As I was saying, I can't bring the price down any further for you. I don't care who you know."

Alec scowls, puffing out his chest to salvage what little dignity he has left. "I'll take my damned business elsewhere, then!"

He turns on his heel and marches dramatically toward the exit, sighing loudly to Lori as he passes, with Kira trailing right behind him, shaking her head.**********************************
Back at the Mark V:

Barry hauls his shiny new purchases into his truck, carefully clipping a radio to his left hip with the solemn focus of a man preparing for battle. Pete watches silently, offering all the emotional support of a fence post.

Nearby, Bruce finishes talking to Gruber and attempts a polite smile. It fails miserably. He looks like he just swallowed a lemon.

Nick, completely oblivious to the gloom, beams at Bruce. "See you when I return! I'm heading north to check on Jenna. If you see Karita, tell him we're headed to New Lazlo." He trots past Ripper, casually tossing him a pouch. "Here’s your money. Can't stick around, bye!" and just like that, Nick vamooses, leaving the chaos behind.

Meanwhile, Marcus continues to "stealthily" observe everyone from plain sight, convincing absolutely no one.

Gruber’s face suddenly contorts. "Uh oh." He spots Drake sauntering back from the restaurant.

As Drake approaches, his eye narrow into cold judgment as he inspects the assortment of strangers standing around. "Who're the new people?"

"Well, Nick bailed, and Alec and Kira never came back," Bruce stammers, pointing like a tour guide through a museum of weirdos. "This is To’Mas... that’s Romana..." He gestures to Pete. "...Pete Hodge of the Troggs, based on the patch..." Finally, he glares at Gruber. "...and, well, that is..."

Despite being a master of fire magic, Drake’s eyes shoot icicles.

Gruber just grins like a smug cat. "You should probably let that poor pilot go. I can see him squirming from here..."

"You're an absolute asshole," Bruce snaps, stepping up. "What the hell do you even want with Drake, anyway?"

Gruber glares back, unimpressed. "Hey, kid, that's between him and me." He turns to Drake, adopting a dramatic storyteller's pose. "Been a while, Drake. Everyone is looking for you. The Coalition, mercenaries, Tolkeen... hell, even a group of mercs up North were spotted heading toward Northern Gun."

Gruber begins strutting toward the APC. Drake follows close behind, fists clenched tightly enough to turn knuckles white. "Don't trust this man," Drake warns his crew. "He works for the Coalition! HE is the one responsible for Lucas's demise and Warren's death! He's a cold-blooded murderer! This sn—"

"YOU ARE A RANKING OFFICER IN A WAR!" Gruber roars, veins bulging dramatically on his forehead, neck, and arms. His blue eyes light up in rage. "You either resign your rank and come with us, or sooner or later, others come looking for you. I'm not even the worst! Honestly, Drake, I don't even care about you. I have my own problems."

Drake blinks. "Oh? And what's that?"

"I've been a juicer for two and a half years, and I don't intend to die as one!" Gruber declares, placing a hand over his heart like a soap opera lead. "It was great at first, but I’ve seen the light! I’m not the evil guy you think I am. I just follow orders. Just like you."

"And why, exactly, am I supposed to go with you?"

"Ask Major Christian, not me! All will be revealed in good time!" Gruber waves a dismissive hand. "Look, your friends are loyal. You must be a fantastic commander. Now we need to figure out how to conquer the Vampire Kingdoms to the south. If we don't, neither of us learns what's going on with Christian."

Bruce sneaks over to Ripper, whispering loudly, "How the hell did you run into that ass?"

Ripper just frowns. "I saw his bio-comp. Knew I could use him. In return, he gets detoxed and a shot at a life."

Bruce grins sinisterly. "Just let him die. He’s just an employee..."

Ripper gives Bruce a deadpan stare. "By that logic, I could let you die just the same. We’re a team, so keep your trap shut."

The onlookers watch the exchange in varying states of utter confusion. Only Lori and Jedite seem to have any clue what’s going on, thanks to their front-row seats to the Northern Gun drama.

Jedite glides over toward Gruber and Drake, offering a cheerful, completely unsettling smile as he stands guard.

Gruber side-eyes him cautiously. "Think you can take me, 'Master of Blades'? Even Lt. Vallee, your friend, found your weaknesses, honor-boy."

Jedite’s smile doesn't break for a second. "You're awfully arrogant for a guy who hid while I chopped down most of your Chrome gang and hacked through your Skelebots. You couldn't even face us directly. Personally? I think you're a coward."

Gruber snaps. "I'm not stupid enough to fight all of you at once! But if you want hand-to-hand, one-on-one, I’ll gladly oblige. No telekinetic cheat codes either... just raw skill. I could take your whole gang myself! How do you think I got leadership of the Chrome? Same way good ol' Drake did!"

Drake scoffs. "Oh, really? Buddy, I earned my title. I didn't beat up my friends to lead them. I was elected."

"I earned mine too!" Gruber huffs. "Look, let's cut the crap, Drake. We've fought before. What if we worked together for once? The trip south isn't going to be a walk in the park."

Drake rolls his eyes, spins on his heel, and walks away. Jedite follows like a silent bodyguard.

Gruber flashes Ripper a smug, 'I've got this' nod. "It's all good..." Then he calls out to Drake’s retreating back, "By the way! Your best pal Tony Reid? Still alive!"

Drake stops dead, his eyes blazing hot enough to melt steel. "Don't insult my intelligence. Go find someone else to torment."

"It's true! He's a cyborg now... the explosion didn't kill him," Gruber rambles on, dropping lore like confetti. "Word is he's the 42nd's new lieutenant. Him and Sgt. Russel Case took a crew north and bumped into your old friend Lucas somewhere in Xiticix country... along with another guy. Name's Centak. Ring a bell?"

Drake grimaces. "There's no way that Lu..."

"Centak?!" Jedite interrupts, dropping his cool facade. "I literally trained with him a week ago! Why are they with him?!"

Gruber shrugs over-dramatically, wearing a grin that practically begs to be punched.

Drake shakes his head, walking off. "I'll believe it when I see it."

**********************************
Nick sets off down the road on a quest to locate the Coalition States outpost in El Paso. Marcus ambles along behind him, unaware that Nick is aware of his presence, while Karita wisely chooses to stay behind and babysit the APC and the rest of their motor pool.

Before they can make any real progress, a deafening roar rattles the cobblestones as two Titan flying power armors come screaming up Merchant Street. Marcus’s instincts immediately flare; a bad feeling settling in his gut. Whatever the deal was, it seems the El Paso police force, or King Halloway himself, clearly have a massive bone to pick with these mercenaries.

Sensing a bigger story, Marcus shifts his focus, zeroing in on Drake. The guy was practically a walking plot hook, especially after that old man's dramatic speech framing him as some sort of long-lost savior.

On one hand, this unfolding disaster promised to be a goldmine of entertainment for the Wild Cats. On the other hand... these mercs were dangerously well-equipped. You don't just stumble into possession of a Coalition Mark V APC in near-mint condition unless you're either obscenely rich or outrageously dangerous.

Either way, things were about to get very loud.
***********************************************************
Enchanter Tim: OOC: OK here's the results (except for Marcus)
Lori and Champion: horses onboard APC
Robbie the robot: onboard APC
Barry: WR-1010 land Rover
Jedite: hovercycle
Romana: Mountaineer ATV
To'Mas: hovercycle
Ranma: Glitterboy onboard the APC
Drake and Bruce: APC
Ripper: motorcycle
Gruber: Hover jeep
Armin: Sky Cycle (Staying or leaving?)
Pete Hodge: No vehicle
Cirrus: no vehicle
Rhianna: ???
Marcus: ???

APC carries: 5 crew, 20 foot soldiers, 4 SAMAS's, & 2 hover cyclists (+ some cargo)
Mountaineer carries: driver & 4 passengers (+ cargo space)
Land Rover carries: driver & 4 passengers
hover jeep carries: driver and 3-5(?) passengers

APC currently carrying: Drake, Bruce, Lori, Champion, Robbie Robot and
Ranma, as well as 2 horses and the GB power armor
Mountaineer currently has: Romana
Land Rover currently has: Barry
Hover Jeep currently has : Gruber

Pete Hodge and Cirrus (plus Marcus?) have no vehicle of their own and can ride with whoever. Ripper, To'Mas, Jedite, Kival all have motor/hover - cycles. We can load one or two of the hovercycles into the mountaineer and the rest in the APC.
****************************
"Cirrus, El Paso is not a Coalition city," Barry comments, offering some gentle life advice before pivoting into full damage-control mode. He waves frantically at the approaching power armors. "We apologize, officers! Where would you like us to park these oversized metal death-traps?!"

Cirrus just shrugs. "I apologize. As I stated before, I don't know much about Mexico, and therefore I didn't know the Coalition were about as popular down here as a rash."

Gruber saunters over to the cops, putting on his best 'innocent tourist' face. "We’re on a military mission. Just stopped by to do a little shopping! We'll be out of your hair in a pinch."

Suddenly, a voice screeches frantically from inside the Mark V, "I am Lieutenant Buddy Juganlee of the Coalition States! We’ve hired these mercenaries to hunt down an escaped criminal!"

The lead Titan pilot hovers his suit uncomfortably close, towering over Gruber, Cirrus, and Barry. "I SAID... we need to see some ID. There is nothing all too difficult about that, is there?"

Gruber inhales deeply, praying for the strength not to blow a fuse.

Pete sneers at the pilot. "You Halloway police are all the same. Nothing but power trips and flying tin cans..."

Barry quickly steps in, whipping out his UI Card like a shiny get-out-of-jail-free card.

Jedite glides up, smooth as silk. "Yes, excuse us. We were just about to leave." He smoothly waves a hand toward the pilots. "There's no need to turn a simple misunderstanding into a scene."

With the cops somewhat pacified, Cirrus immediately pivots to the most important topic: flexing. He begins loudly boasting that he's the absolute strongest guy in the wasteland.

Barry bursts out laughing. "Doth thou even hoist, sibling?"

To’Mas shakes his head, laughs, and then falls into a sudden existential crisis. Oo(Damn... I hate my voice. I wonder if I can 'buy' an upgrade in the next town...)oO

"Alright, I don't remember my exact max," Pete says, stepping up to Cirrus, standing nearly eye-to-eye with him. "How much can you two lift?"

"The most I've ever benched was thirty thousand pounds," Barry boasts, puffing out his chest.

"Thirty thousand pounds?!" Cirrus scoffs. "My fat ass! Let's have a competition right now! If you can really bench that much, you should easily be able to hoist Ripper on his motorcycle. You game, Pete?"

Pete smiles, nods, and saunters over to Ripper. He stoops down, grabs the frame of the bike, and prepares to lift—

WHAM. Ripper delivers a lightning-fast backhand that sends Pete tumbling onto his rear, "I said we need to get going," he raises an eyebrow with a cold, terrifying smile. "You can lift heavy things in the next town."

Pete gets up, scowling and rubbing his jaw, utterly floored by Ripper's terrifying reflexes. Oo(Damn... I didn't even see him swing...)oO

The rest of the group openly smirks as the two flying titans move on after barking for Ripper to move the big tin can.

Gruber hovers his jeep over, scowling at the foolishness. "Who cares who lifts more? Who can do it faster?"

"It wouldn't be fair if I competed," To'Mas interjects, strolling past. "I was literally engineered to be superior to all of you."

Barry laughs it off. "This is going to be a great crew! How about my truck? High clearance, great leverage; you can get right under it and keep good form!"

Ranma lets out a low growl. "Look, rather than lifting and potentially snapping our expensive gear, why don't we get on with the damn job? If you really want to prove how tough you are, line up and let's see how many Boom Gun rounds each of you can take. Otherwise, shut up."

"Don't be such a party pooper, we're just having fun," Barry pouts, crossing his arms and alternating flexing his biceps.

Ripper, officially at his limit, revs his engine. "Well, I'm heading out." He guns it down the street, shouting over his shoulder through a cloud of dust, "Follow me if you're still in!"

To'Mas casually follows on his hovercycle. Barry slaps the roof of his truck, "Okay boys, time to roll!" He hops in and hits the gas.

"I guess the flex-off is postponed," Cirrus grins. "In the meantime, I need to catch Barry before he drives off with all my equipment. Looks like I'm riding top-deck on the APC!"

Romana lets out a massive sigh of relief as the testosterone festival finally disperses, falling into line behind them.

To Ripper's endless disdain, Kival has already skipped town, disappearing with his cash advance.

The convoy lines up, leaving the squalor of El Paso behind to face the open dirt roads of the Texas-Mexican wastes. Lori rides up in the rear turret hatch while Drake handles the wheel. Kira and Alec are nowhere to be found. A solitary panther with human hands watches them leave.

Many minutes later, the group arrives at the banks of a wide, churning river. Cirrus quickly jumps back into Barry's truck. Across the water lies a sprawling web of dusty villages surrounding a dense metropolis of crumbling third-world architecture.

Ripper pauses, admiring the view with a twisted smile. "Well, there she is, El Ciudad Juárez. Look at that beautiful shithole. I can't wait." He cracks his knuckles and unslings his rifle, scanning the banks for a bridge across the Rio Grande.

Beside him, the atmosphere shifts sharply as Gruber dons his heavy Chrome juicer plate armor without a word, his expression turning deadly serious as he shoulders a massive, heavy-barreled rifle.

In the driver's seat of the Mark V, Drake snarls at the sight of Gruber, his knuckles whitening on the wheel as he accelerates to match Ripper’s pace.

Bruce frowns, sensing the sudden spike in tension. "Hey, Drake... easy. Watch it! We aren't gonna lose him yet. After the mission is over, we can tag him."

Drake doesn't answer.

At the edge of the river, Rhianna gazes out over the sprawling city, a dark, knowing smile touching her lips. "Well... this should be interesting."

*******************************
Inside Barry's truck, the atmosphere is a fine mix of sheer panic and absurd bravado.

Pete sits shotgun, clutching the dashboard so hard his knuckles are white as he stares out at the approaching border. "This isn't good," he mutters, his voice cracking slightly. "We're literally driving straight into the land of the living dead."

Romana, cruising alongside them in her absurdly massive Mountaineer ATV, glances down through the window with a confident smirk. "Well, they won't be living for long if I have anything to say about it."

"Hey, look on the bright side, at least vampires have mortal minds," Barry chimes in from behind the wheel, offering his trademark brand of questionable comfort. "You don't ever want to go to Atlantis. That place is packed with supernatural horrors that'd do things to you that you wouldn't even wish on your worst enemy."

Romana winks at Pete. "Don't sweat it! You'll be totally fine. Just don't let anything bite you and you might actually have fun. I heard there's a great club in Ciudad Juárez called the 'Titty Twister.'"

"Ha! I'd like to see one of those bloodsuckers even try to sink their teeth into this," Barry says, raising one hand off the steering wheel to aggressively flex his bicep. "Great Rifts! We are heroic!"

*************************************
Cirrus eyes the distant skyline of Juárez. He brandishes his JA-11 rifle, tapping expertly through the interface to run a full diagnostic test. Satisfied that every setting is operating at peak lethality, he taps the back of Pete’s seat with the barrel. Yet says nothing.

After driving for ten minutes along the dusty banks of the Rio Grande, well out of sight of Juárez proper, the convoy comes upon a narrow, rickety bridge.

A collective groan echoes through the vehicles. The structure is made of weathered wood anchored by rusted steel beams. It creaks ominously under the weight of just a few stray pedestrians, looking entirely incapable of supporting a heavy war machine.

Inside the Mark V, Drake frowns at the dubious timber. "Everyone cross first. If this deathtrap collapses under eighteen tons of Coalition steel, I want to make sure the rest of you are already on the other side."

Gruber just shrugs from his hover jeep, flashing a lazy, palms-up grin. "Hey, I'm not worried."

On the far side of the river, seven unarmored strangers step into view, looking far too smug for men standing in front of a heavily armed mercenary column. One of them casually jogs across the creaking planks, halting four feet from the bumper of Barry's truck.

"You have to pay the toll to pass over this bridge, compadre," the man calls out, "Otherwise, we cannot let you pass."

The smirking crew behind him are armed only with plasma ejectors, looking bizarrely confident for a gang of highwaymen facing down an APC. Their leader keeps both hands casually hidden behind his back.

Ripper pulls his motorcycle right up beside Barry’s driver-side window and glances over at Romana. "They seem awfully confident. Either there are a hundred more of them hiding in those bushes, or they're stupidly desperate."

Pete leans halfway out of the truck's passenger window. "How much?"

The leader pretends to ponder, counting the vehicles with a slow finger before flashing a theatrical grin. "How about... 1,000 credits for each vehicle, eh?"

Pete’s eyebrows shoot up. He turns to Barry and Cirrus, utterly flabbergasted. "He can't be serious..."

Inside the APC, Bruce takes hold of the primary laser turret controls. "Give me the word, Cap, and I'll send these guys straight to their maker."

Drake raises a hand. "Hold your fire. I smell an ambush, but even if they try something, we have enough firepower to turn this whole riverbank into glass. Honestly? I think they're just making a remarkably stupid attempt at quick cash."

From the co-pilot seat, Buddy laughs, "Always overthinking it, huh, Captain?"

Drake ignores him, hitting the external loudspeaker switch. "How about 100 credits per person? Plus extra if you act as our tour guides into the city?"

The leader throws his head back and laughs. "No way, ése! We aren't tour guides, we are toll men! We protect the bridge and collect tax so we can afford expenses. It's the only crossing you'll find for miles!"

Rhianna rolls her eyes so hard it practically hurts. "Oh, please..."

Overhearing the argument through the APC's comms, Ranma decides he’s had enough small talk. He slips into the back of the transport and climbs into his Glitter Boy suit, powering up the hydraulic systems just in case things go sideways.

Barry hops down from his truck cab, holding up his UI Card. "Hmm... that is an awful lot of money. Look, I want to be fair, but we both know we don't have to pay you a single credit." He repockets the card and spreads his arms wide to show he’s completely unarmed. Then, shivering dramatically, he rubs his chest and face. "Damn, left my jacket in the truck." He pauses, adopting his best thoughtful posture. "How about this, before we negotiate, how about you show us your hands?"

The leader blinks, hesitates, and slowly pulls his hands from behind his back. They're bare, dirty, and calloused from hard labor. As his eyes travel from Barry's sculpted frame up to the imposing brick-wall physiques of Pete and Cirrus hovering behind him, his tough-guy bravado instantly evaporates.

"Please," the man stammers, his voice dropping into an earnest, defensive plea. "We work hard. We just need a way to survive down here! It's not all that much to ask for, is it?"

Barry keeps his eyes locked on the man while calling back over his shoulder to the crew. "What do you think, guys? Should we kill him or pay him? I think he's been polite enough to warrant a business transaction. So, how much for the whole group to cross?"

The man nervously counts on his fingers, sweat visible on his brow. "Well... total passage will cost... about 6,000 credits. Look, nowadays a man has to make a living somehow, you know? Even if he has to risk his life! We keep the really unsavory types from crossing!" He gestures frantically back toward his supposedly heavily armed buddies.

Barry tilts his head, genuinely amused. "Don't you run into a lot of unsavory types down here? How do you and your bunch of redneck friends operate out here without getting yourselves horribly murdered?"
***********************************
"I rather doubt this is the only bridge across the river," Lori says, peering through her binoculars to examine the rickety structure. "It's too unstable and far too remote for Juárez to bother controlling. Not to mention the price is absurd."

Through her lenses, the supports reveal a patchy patchwork of steel angle brackets and fresh timber slapped over decaying, ancient wood.

Before anyone can argue, a souped-up dune buggy roars down the road from the direction of Juárez, kicking up a massive plume of dust behind it.

Sensing the mood turning sour, the man frantically lowers his price. "How about 500 credits and you pitch in a nice gun?"

Jedite growls, leaning over his handlebars. "Yeah? How about we just see some heads roll instead?"

To'Mas casually hoists an enormous railgun onto his shoulder, lining up a shot. "I can take them all out from here... and anyone hiding in the brush, with minimal collateral damage to the bridge."

The leader brightens, completely misreading the threat level. "Now we're talking business! How about a thousand credits with the gun?"

Ripper chuckles, looking around. "Hey! Who wants to pitch in a little pocket change for our poor bridge troll?"

Pete cracks his knuckles, preparing to leap out of the truck and smash something, while To'Mas keeps his crosshairs pinned to the negotiator's forehead, just begging for a reason to pull the trigger.

Barry pulls his UI Card back out, holding up a pacifying hand. "Don't worry about giving up guns or grenades, Ripper. I'll just pay the guy." He nods to the negotiator and opens his rear passenger door. "Get in. You'll get your six thousand credits once we're on the other side."

"Vehicle approaching fast from Juárez!" Lori warns from her perch.

Barry practically shoves the stunned negotiator into the back seat. "Come on, hurry up, we don't have all day! Let me just pay you so we can get this over with."

The man scrambles inside, waving frantically at his armed buddies to stand down. "Good doing business, eh?" he says, sounding immensely relieved as he eyes the modest sidearms and grenades tucked into the vehicle.

Keeping his engine idling, Barry radios the convoy. "Are you guys coming across this bridge or what?" He turns to the negotiator and shrugs. "So... do you guys actually make much doing this? I can't imagine many people use this crossing, let alone pay. You just got lucky running into a bunch of easygoing guys."

Without waiting for the verdict, To'Mas glides his hovercycle straight across.

Meanwhile, bringing up the rear, Marcus Antonius, the feline spectator from El Paso, pulls up behind the convoy on his own hovercycle, blasting Kid Rock's "American Badass" at deafening volumes. Oo(These guys are definitely interesting enough to follow)oO

Barry points a thumb in his rearview mirror. "Who the hell is that maggot?"

Ripper glances back and barks an amused laugh. "That's the panther that was stalking us back in El Paso. Never seen a cat ride a motorcycle before. Talented little guy, eh? I think he's got a crush on you, Barry."