Slyfox

Hangin’ ’round or Imitating Jerky

Lots of people in the wastes have strange attributes called traits. These are characteristics which have pros and cons. Dongo Weener could be described as being Jinxed. Things usually went wrong, and spectacularly. Also, he managed to convey this power to those around him. Suffice it to say he didn’t have many friends.

Another trait Dongo had at this point was Bloody Mess. Usually, Bloody Mess is when by some cruel twist of fate, people die violently when you’re around. In this case, however, we’re talking about the Bloody Mess you have after receiving severe head trauma inflicted by unfriendly gangers armed with lead pipes and sharp, pointy things. After adding a few more alterations to the shape of Dongo’s skull, the ganger managed to first decaptiate his fellow with the pipe and then broke his own back by shoving the pipe down his throat. At least being jinxed is good for something.

Dongo staggered around a bit and figured that his head was hurting a lot, and promptly made the problem go away by losing consciousness.

He awoke weeks later fairly certain that he had arrived at this Point B from Point A via Rotgut Express. For those that do not know, drinking Rotgut is equivalent to drinking a good measureful of drain cleaning fluid, mixing in a large amount of H₂SO₄ and finally topping it off with a bit of methylated spirits. The result is that you poison your entire system, clean your innards, remove a good deal of your intestines and finally you go blind and die. Unfortunately, Rotgut has a curious property where you are resurrected so that you can feel the effects of the Rotgut hangover. The Rotgut hangover is not very different from being hit in the groin repeatedly by a sledgehammer and having the pain waves radiate to your head, and is very popular in certain masochist circles.

Luckily for him, he did not have a Rotgut hangover. Unluckily for him, he was nailed to a brick wall by his shirt, or what was left of it. Dongo assessed the situation briefly, and figured that things were about to go downhill. He got that impression from the mass of people in front of him wearing purple robes and brandishing sharper, pointier things than the gangers did. Briefly he wondered whether he had been hauled into The Human Body 101 of the Purple Cultist University. His suspicions were confirmed when he noticed the orgy proceeding at the back of the crowd.

The Cultists were a group of somewhat frustrated people (hence the purple) who enjoyed the odd spot of indecent exposure (hence the robes) and the occasional dissection of living organisms (hence the sharp, pointy things). Things were looking black for Dongo, or more accurately, purple.

As the mob advanced with their dissection/combat tools, Dongo prepared to say goodbye to this cruel world. Unfortunately for him and everybody else who happens to be around him, he was destined to stay here a bit longer. The wall crumbled, cultists gasped, the orgy cheered (they figured it was more people that just arrived late), and Dongo… well, he just dangled around a bit more. A man bounded into the room through the door he had just made with that convenient rocket launcher in his hand. Did I mention he had multiple weapons (read: military storehouse) strapped to his well-muscled figure? He did.

“Fear not! I, the Picked Guy have come to kill you bad cultists — to gain experience, increase my Karma and receive the Cultist Killer perk!”, said the Picked Guy, brandishing weapons from his arsenal and waving them around at threatening angles.

The Cultists hesitated a moment. Should they attack this behemoth and hope to overcome him by sheer numbers, or should they run? Their hesitation, though, was perceived by the Picked Guy as a sign of impending hostility. He opened fire and the Cultists were transformed into piles of biological goo looking very similiar to your vomit after drinking too much Rotgut.

Dongo, meanwhile, was getting nervous. In the absence of the ability to fidget, he tried looking very, very worried instead. When the Picked Guy was pretty sure that everybody was dead, he advanced slowly to Dongo. He looked him straight in the eye for what seemed like ages. When finally he muttered: “Oh damn. You’re a good guy. I guess I’ll have to set you free now. I had better get lots of XPs…”. He unsheathed a knife, cut Dongo down from where he was hanging and bounded out of the building again. Well, that’s what he meant to do. What really happened was that by some freak accident of nature (namely Dongo Weener), he bashed his head against a brick and dropped, unconscious, to the ground.

Dongo took advantage of this and borrowed a Desert Eagle and a few clips for an indeterminable amount of time (Dongo’s dad had told him not to call it stealing — that made it sound like a bad thing to do). On an impulse he borrowed a set of keys in pretty much the same way as he did the weapon. He stepped outside and took a look around.

A Chrysalis Highwayman was parked a short distance from the improvised door. Dongo thought for a bit and figured the keys probably fit the car, so he jumped in and fired her up. “I’ll give it back to him… someday… maybe… ah screw it, just cross the border!”

And off drove Dongo into the sunset. What will happen next? Will a ill-tempered mutated sea bass attack him? Will a sperm whale and a bowl of petunias drop on the car? Probably not, but it keeps the conclusion of this chapter interesting!

Ahhh… Intermission…

In a secret laboratory, at a secret location, secret things were happening. They’re so secret, nobody really knows what’s happening. Luckily for you, I do. That’s because I am an omniscient third-person narrator, and I am damn proud of it, if I may say so. I may.

Not content to just disappear, the dreaded FEV virus has emerged again to rear its ugly head. A group of military scientists, deep within the ancient military complex, conduct experiments with FEV to try to produce another Frank Horrigan — a strong and mindlessly obedient killing machine. They think that they are nearing their goal…