'So Shiny, So Chrome' takes place 13 years after The Fall, a combination of the Oil Wars that came to a climax with a nuclear event. Our setting is the Wasteland, once the Australian outback. Wildlife mutated by radiation prowls the wasteland; weather is harsh and highly unpredictable; roving gangs of survivors fight for what remains of precious resources.
What a day, what a lovely day.
----- Season: Winter Weather: Days 8°C/Nights -10°C
Winter has descended once again on the Wasteland as merciless as ever. Days are cold, and with little cover the high winds are all the more biting; even without snow, hypothermia and frostbite are a constant threat. The only relief is that many of the Wasteland's creatures are in hibernation.
Crash shot a glare at Scrapper. He knew it was a no win scenario, but he was being a little harder on her then the normal ensigns. He didn't know if it was because of her performance in bartertown or if Crash's attachment to the young woman. He would have words with Scrapper later, depending on how this unfolded.
He fished his keys out of a pocket on the jumpsuit and put them in her hand. "Thunder is the F-650 painted aircraft grey, right there." He said pointing to the raider.
He rushed her over to the truck and disarmed his anti theft device and tripped all the kill switches so it would start. He jogged around to the passenger side and climbed into the cab. As she hopped in he started to rabble on.
"Look, Thunder can't outrun his truck. It will take time for him to catch us, but he will eventually catch us. Thunder was built for an assault vehicle and has armor plating from the ships super structure welded to the outside so you can take a decent hit if you have to but you can't turn this into a foot race. You have to be smart, cunning, and think on you're feet if you want to pull this off. Now start us up, get down the ramp and head north as fast as you can get this truck wound up." He said.
The truck rumbled to life and as she started to inch forward in the massive raider he wanted to know what exactly she was going to do.
Post by frakkinrowdy on Nov 26, 2015 16:36:06 GMT -5
Anna's heart was pounding, an if asked she wouldn't lie- she didn't know what the hell she was doing. But that had never stopped her before. Her whole life had been a string of never ending situations where she didn't know what she was doing. The truck was not fast by any means, but she wasted little time rolling out and North of the Washington. The truck was huge to her, she'd never driven anything this big but she figured everything could just get out of her way, she wasn't going to let it worry her. She couldn't.
"If I can't outrun him, and I assume there's not enough fuel to even go the entire course, then I have two options. Disable him, or hide from him." Anna looked over at Crash, the landscape not quite whizzing by, the truck was still gaining speed over the gritty, bumpy terrain. She had the pedal to the floor. There was always the third option: total failure. "What is course seven? What's the terrain?"
Anna wasn't sure if there would be anything out here in the salt flats where she could hide the truck, and that meant finding a way to make sure Scrapper couldn't get home before she could. That meant watching her fuel, she had to at least get close. He never said the truck had to make it back, just her.
"You can't go toe to toe with The thunderchild in this thing. she might be armor plated but the tow truck is more powerful, heavier, and has a more seasoned driver behind the wheel. Course Seven is bumpy, curvy, has a few hills, and a long straight. It definitely doesn't play to this trucks strengths." He said as the rumbled out over the salts.
"Remember, be cunning and clever. and no matter what stick to your guns. And whatever you do, don't try to take him on physically. You'll break my truck..." Crash said trailing off.
'Here we go' he thought to himself. He started to wonder if he could sneak her into the Wash a few nights a week while she was stuck in the barracks...
Post by frakkinrowdy on Nov 26, 2015 17:12:45 GMT -5
Anna looked over at Crash and grinned wider than she should have as he lamented about her breaking his truck. "Then fuck course seven." Without slowing, she turned them in a wide arc and headed east a little way before turning south, the Washington filling up the view instead of getting smaller and smaller.
"How long has it been? This thing won't go any faster?" She didn't really expect an answer but she hoped like hell she had enough time to get out of view of the ramp, hoping that Scrapper wasn't watching and that if he was she swung wide enough not to give everything away. She wondered how badly the tires were tearing up the ground and looked in the side mirror to gauge what she should do.
She had no idea what the outcome for disregarding the course would be, but she'd be damned if she just ran out there to get caught or wind up without fuel. Scrapper might make her push the F-650 back. Anna wasn't sure she was clever or cunning, but she went with her gut. Probably a shit move on her part, but if all else failed she'd get out and run if she had to.
Scrapper walked to the Thunderchild after grabbing the notepad and climbed aboard. he had just fired up the powerful engine when the Pathfidner he had sent off earlier reappeared at the side of the truck.
"They did as you expected," he said loudly ," but the others will be in postion. They know to wait for your signal."
"Good," Scrapper said giving the other Pathfinder a salaute," Thank you."
Thunderchild eased to the edge of the OPPOSITE side ramp, it's armored form dominating the opening as Scrapper looked at the watch and smirked, hell he been generous, being it was now seven minutes. Those being pursed seldom went the first path of chase, especially if they knew they where being pursed. Scrapper learned that a long time ago from his law enforcement days. In fact if he hadn't missed his guess knowing his quarry's lack of knowledge of the area, the capablities of the modified Ford pickup and human nature he should see her dust cloud....there! A few hundred yards from the ship and curving fast to try and cirumvent the Wash.
Coal black smoke billowed from the stacks high into the air as Scrapper released the brakes and the truck lurched forward, slamming down onto the ramp, it's red and blue light bar flashing to life. Scrapper had no intention of being suttle. The new girl was going to head straight at him if she stayed o this course, and one this path, there wasn't enough room to go around due to the landscape and the bulk of the carrier. Thunderchild bucked hard on it's suspension , the plow like atatchment throwing salt and dirt for a moment into the air as the truck turned ominously in the direction of the F-650.
"Chicken? Well if thats how you wanna play it," Scrapper said out loud knowing full well they couldnt hear him, and honestly he didn't give a damn. He slammed the truck into another gear and Thunderchild rumbled forward.
Post by frakkinrowdy on Nov 26, 2015 20:40:01 GMT -5
She stayed the course. There was nothing else to do. She saw the rig throw sand high into the air as he turned and came her way. A wall of giant rock and tall dunes forced her along a path that ran beside the carrier. Ahead she could see it narrowed some and there was no way to go past Scrapper and his truck. There was no going back. Nothing short of standing her ground would work now and standing her ground meant being caught. For precious seconds, the two vehicles ran for each other, head on. Anna knew she wouldn't call that bluff- so what, then?
The sand dunes to her left steadily gave way to rock. Large boulders of rock half buried in the sand, sometimes stacked one on top of the other, smaller rock filled the spaces between. It looked like the remnants of an old rock slide. Ahead she saw a formation of rock that stuck out a little more than the rest, one huge rock with many smaller but still heavy pieces sitting on top. They looked like the wind could but push them right over the edge.
Anna knew she'd lose no matter what. It wasn't a good feeling. It already stung at what little pride she had. She was filled with self doubt and she knew that she'd be licking wounds either figuratively or physically. Without warning, she slammed the brakes on the truck. The back end slid loose and started to fishtail on the salty ground, she goosed the gas just a little, regaining control, then applied the brakes hard. For a split second she sat in the stopped truck and wondered what she was doing. Scrapper's tone had said he did not care one ounce what happened here. She didn't think he expected much of her and maybe he was right. She was a gutless coward most days.
Looking over at Crash, she thought she just might make a record for the fastest time to fail. She gave the truck a little gas, turning it toward the rocks. There were smaller ones near the base enough to give the truck purchase to climb the bigger one. Anna eased up to them and let the truck crawl up the small, loose rock some of them sliding away under the weight of the truck. Scrapper was still barreling toward her but she thought she had enough distance between them that she could make it. A little more gas and the truck tires were gripping a larger rock in the pile, pulling them upward and an angle where she couldn't quite see in front of her but not cheek-clenchingly steep. She heard a rock scrape and shift loose under the tires and the truck bounced and there was the sound of the plating scraping along rocks. Anna ignored it and throttled the truck further up until, nose in the air tires now grappling up the side of bigger rock- smaller loose rock still throwing out behind them clattering off the underside of the truck. She leaned to look out the window, turning her tires enough to barely squeak up onto the flat top of the rock. There wasn't much room. She goosed it and there was a bang as the front passenger side plating hit the smaller rock on top. Even if she could knock half of it down, she hoped it was enough to block the path up, enough the rig wouldn't be able to crawl over. The truck met with resistance, the back tires still not fully on top of the massive rock, but she pressed on. Metal scraping against rock, rock grinding against rock, she could hear the crack and rattle of loose shards of stone falling away.
"Come on!" Anna didn't want to ruin his truck- she didn't know how far she could push it but she ramped up her efforts, swearing loudly as the first of the rocks fell off the far side and into the narrow path. The easy part was done but that wasn't enough to stop Scrapper, but Anna wasn't going to stop until she either heard the sound of metal bending (she might have to apologize too long and too hard if she bent something up) or she'd knocked enough of the rock off the top to stop the pursuit vehicle.
Crash grabbed the oh shit handle as she brought the truck to a stop and then headed for the rock formations. He cursed inwardly as she started to scrape and slam his truck around and bouncing it off the rocks. he swore like hell she was going to tear up his drive shafts or diffs with the way she was going.
"Dammit woman either slam the throttle or back off, stop worrying about the bloody truck and worry about your ass at this point!" he yelled at her from the passenger seat. He braced himself as best he could waiting for her to rocket the truck up the boulder and beach it.
Scrapper watched the F-650 lurch and climb up the rock slide. He slowed his truck to a stop a few yards from them. He smirked as he watched the Ford a moment longer. He flipped a switch on the dash and began backing up. As he did black clouds boiled from the stacks creating a smoke screen that blew across the boulders as the big truck rapidly moved backward.
Post by frakkinrowdy on Nov 26, 2015 21:36:34 GMT -5
Anna couldn't spare a glance for Crash, but she glared anyway. Glared sideways at him, glared at the rocks ahead, oh and at those black plumes of smoke heading right for them. The smoke enveloped the truck, the smell of it suffocating but in a moment of sheer madness Anna bumped the throttle hard with her foot, held it and heard the engine protest as the rocks at first refused to give way. The tires scrubbed trying to gain traction and suddenly everything shifted. She could hear the sound of the rocks falling and shattering and bounding around on the path below, the scrape of the truck as it rolled over some smaller rock that didn't fall away with the rest. The RPMs wound up fast and without being able to see just how far she had left on that rocky top, Anna took her foot off the gas and jammed the brake to the floor. If Crash was worried then, the real trick was going to be backing down after the smoke cleared.
The truck engine idling, the smoke still too thick to see through, rock occasionally still clattering below them, Anna sat still glaring, white knuckling the steering wheel, a string of curses spilling out of her mouth.
The boulders Thunder found itself perched on suddenly gave a shudder, smaller rocks and pebbles bounced and clattered as another shudder hit the boulder pile. The black smoke grew thicker for a moment as the sound of a powerful engine at work could be heard. Then with a protest of ancient stone the rock suddenly began to move. Out of the smoke Thunderchild appeared, its tow cable wrapped around the boulder and slowly dragging the twenty ton rock from it's resting place, and more importantly out from under Scrapper's quary.
The winch and the big tires worked in unision as Thunderchild showed off every horsepower it had. Scrapper stood in the open door way of the truck cab looking back and up at the F-650, his arms crossed as the truck did it's work. Unlike the other machine, his own behemouth had plenty of fuel to burn in this endeavor.
Post by frakkinrowdy on Nov 27, 2015 20:38:26 GMT -5
"Mother of a..." Anna was caught up in another belched cloud of blackness when she heard the sound of rocks falling. She could feel the movement of the boulder beneath the truck almost as if it were tipping forward instead of being dragged away from the rest of the boulders. She felt a moment of panic and wondered if they'd plummet head first over the edge of the boulder, it rolling over them like some asinine comedic spectacle. The path she took to get up here was being ruined with every passing second. She shifted the F650 into reverse and stuck her head out the window. She couldn't quite see Scrapper from her vantage but she could see his truck below. She didn't need to see him to know what was happening.
Watching the ass of the truck, Anna throttled hard, the truck tires barking against the rock. Just then the boulder shuddered and lurched top over bottom, rolling away from Thunder and into the path where she'd pushed off the smaller rocks. Gravity and fuel threw her down the rocks and as she neared the salty dirt, she slammed the pedal to the floor. The truck wasn't fast, but it would need every drop of fuel it could get to hit that sand running.
There was a loud BLAM and she bounced in her seat as the back end hit solid ground, bounced again when the front tires hit. Never letting up on the throttle she flew in reverse back down the way she'd come until she was clear of the carrier. She let off the gas, put the truck in neutral and hit the brakes swinging the front end around as she slowed. Then she shifted the truck back into gear as soon as it was slowed enough not to protest too loudly and stomped the gas again. She was headed back for the other entrance, this time keeping the truck in a path that hugged the carrier instead of swinging wide, making a mad dash back for the ramp.
The moment Scrapper saw the Ford begins its backward tumble he smiled and climbed back into his truck cab, hitting the emergency release on the cable. Thunderchild cable spooled out as the truck went into reverse , the truck's massive rear bumper a blunt wall of rusted tetnis shot in pursuit of the armored over grown pickup truck. there wasn't room here for Scrapper to make a proper turn, but the specially built transmission of the truck had two reverse gears, low and high.
Thunderchild yowled in reverse as the truck quickly got up to speed as Scrapper grabbed the CB radio. This was what he needed the other Pathfinders for, plan number 7, not route 7.
"Now boys," he said.
On the huge warship the very ramp the cheating Ensign had been intending to use began clanking upward, sand and salt rained off the end of it as it drew up like an iron draw bridge against the modern day decendant of an ancient castle. Pathfinders could be seen dotting the flight deck and well decks of the ship placing bets and chearing the show.
"Combat and life aint fair," Scrapper said as he found a spot to slam the big rig into a Crawford and with both the power steering screaming and tiresc protesting Thunderchild slid around in a cloud of dirt and salt. the flashing strobe bar casting dazzling blue and red lights in the cloud as the truck burst back into view. the speedometer climbed quickly, as Scrapper figured the fuel guage was dropping on Thunder.
Crash was getting thrown around in his seat as she bucked and thrashed thunder. The dull throb that was his shoulder this morning was replaced with a whole lot of burning shratnel feel now.
He took a gander and realized Scrappers full plan and smirked. He wondered just what Anna could do that may surprise him, of course he hoped at this point his truck survived it.
He turned on his cb and prayed he remembered the right channel.
"Oy, don't be blowing holes in my ship or my truck now." He looked at Anna and could see panic and terror in her eyes even if her jaw was set like stone.
He glanced at the fuel gauge...an eighth of a tank is what they had left. Scrapper bled more than the half he said he did.
He keyed the mic on the CB "Apparently Scrapper you got yourself a fight, the ensign says you drive worse then a grandmother. Come get us if you can!" Crash said and tossed the pic back on the dash looking at Anna with a big goofy smile on his face.
"If you're going to go, go big!" he said jovially at Anna. "Now would you kindly defend what little honor my truck has left and KICK HIS ARSE!"
Post by frakkinrowdy on Nov 28, 2015 1:05:30 GMT -5
"Motherfucker!" She could see the ramp rising slowly and if her eyes did not fail her, far too many eyeballs for comfort watching her get her ass skint like a sideshow.
Then, as if it weren't already bad enough, Crash got on the radio. Anna spared a look for Crash. She wasn't really angry with him, it was the heat of the moment. "Fuck me sideways! I'm already bumblefucking this test up the ass without your help, man." She caught sight of him grinning and vowed silently he would pay.
Her eyes flicked from the big rig flying up on her and the gas gauge. She was sure the truck got little better than a mile a gallon. Any minute she expected the beast to sputter and die. She had no time to get anywhere safe and even if somehow she had enough fuel and speed to get around to the other ramp, they'd pull it up on her too.
Think, Anna! The only hope she had was to actually stop Scrapper and that was just not going to happen. She could see him behind the wheel he was so close now. She eased off the throttle just a little, remembering this one time she'd been stuck in traffic back before things went to hell. Back before this kind of shit had become normal. She unclipped the pistol on her right hip and flipped the safety with her thumb. She cut the wheel and brought the truck around in as tight a turn as she could manage and not flip them, bringing her practically nose to nose with the rig. But instead of a loosing game of chicken, she swerved left to run up on the passenger side of the bigger vehicle. She had one chance, then it was her worst case backup plan.
Her window was already down, Anna hung her arm out and leaned heavily on the door. Blam! Blam! Blam! She shot the first couple rounds at the steering tire, but that wasn't her target. She saw the cylindrical shape of the fuel tank and steadied her mind, her target was behind that somewhere but she couldn't quite see it- not at this angle, not with the salt and dust being kicked up by the tires. She had fractions of seconds to do this and quickly she aimed, more by gut than anything else, where the air tank should be: Blam! Blam! and then she was too far past the rig to keep shooting. She swung the smaller truck wide in another big arc so she could come up behind the rig. Hopefully she wouldn't need any more fuel, hopefully she hit the tank and that big bitch would be plowing sand instead of chewing it up.
Thunderchild named after the ironclad ram from the HG Wells War of The Worlds, lived up to its literacy namesake and charged onward. Scrapper saw what the woman was trying to do and a quick jerk of the wheel put the train style cow catcher between the woman and her attempt to damage the truck's air brakes.
"Clever Girl," Scrapper said respectfully. The air brake tanks where actually dummies, the real ones moved for better protection years ago, but it was still a good attempt. However Scrapper did decide he would try something else. He deliberelty shifted the Peterbilt into the wrong gear, this made the engine rev drop off and lug as he bled speed off the truck. Oh not a lot, but now he was only doing a mile an hour faster then they where. He also began to make the machine slew side ways more on the turns it was doing simualting steering linkage damage.
Scrapper noticed the line of dark damp soil that ran behind Thunder, apparently the truck's fuel tank had suffered some damage from the rock climbing. Under normal circumstances he'd have tried to ignite that fuel leak but not today. Thunderchild had now closed the gap to less then a few dozen yards. That was when he noticed the faded "How's My Driving? 1800EatShit" sticker on the bumper of the truck ahead of him. It hadn't been there before so where it had come from the former MFP officer had no idea.
Last Edit: Nov 28, 2015 16:54:54 GMT -5 by Scrapper