There's a taxi hack at rest on the other side of the street. Hank laboring slightly beneath the weight of his rifle, you cross at once and approach it, moving round to the curb side.
The car is long and flat, shaped like a cube with rounded corners. The top is mostly opaque glass that tapers evenly in either direction. Neither end is favored, thus the car appears not to have a "front". There's a prominent seam where the door is but no obvious way to open it. Hank lived in the city before everyone died and frequently rode these to his workplace. He lowers his rifle with a sigh and props it against the car, then passes his hand over the surface of the door. With a hiss it pops open slightly and Everett grabs the lower end of it, pulling it up and outward. It remains there supported by it's mechanisms like the wing of a bird.
You the both of you curious, lean inside the car. There is a long stitched cloth seat on either side of the car, facing one another. Upon one seat is a pile of human bones amongst various tatters and rubbish. The area around the bones is dark with stain. Hank averts his eyes from the unpleasant scene long enough to look for some kind of map or any kind of documentation inside the car. He avoids looking too closely near the remains, but there doesn't appear to be anything here of that sort. He didn't expect to see anything like that anyways.
Owen can't help glancing at the corpse again. His brow furrows involuntarily and his aching stomach rolls. He gets his head out of the car while Hank investigates and turns away, taking some deep breaths to try and prevent himself from gagging. He asked himself:
how long had it been, really? Years surely, but we never counted, Hank and I. There was no way, nor reason. How long had we been doing this? Struck by this, he felt his bearded face. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his own face in a mirror, or a lake. The notion was at once curious and terrifying.
Hank has green eyes and messy brown hair. He stands at a 6' 2" when standing upright, however, as a civil mechanic, he is usually hunched over fixing something.
Gear
Treated Ceramics Vest (bullet/knife/laser proof, heavy and inflexible)
Skills
Mechanic +2 | Luck +1
Chemblade
Aperturehound 20mm AT Rifle 5/5
- 19x 20mm Rounds
Toolpack
Short, stocky, covered in black hair. Obsessed with stores of space, wears cargo pants and boots. Brought as many books as he can shove in his pockets.
Gear
Large Jacket
Cargo Pants
Military Boots
Skills
Traditional Lockpicking +1 | Computers +1 | Sneaking +1
Deplau 9mm Sub Gun 50/50
- 2x Box Magazines (29/50, 50/50)
Set of Picks
Data Recorder
Author
Topic: Conscript Armor: Droids (Read 10004 times)