Great. Just what I need. Rook has a job for us. Of course, by “us” I mean some giant Russian with the worst fucking mustache I’ve ever seen, a walking armory in a skirt, a hooker that looks like she’s turned more tricks than David Copperfield and yours truly. I’ve been to Rook’s a couple times. They have juice for the lights. They have girls. They have food and drink. I did manage to palm a flasher from the pedal cab that picked me up, score one for the good guys.
Rook is pretty polite for a cold blooded killer. A bit long winded though. So what’s the job already?
Tims takes care of Allentown which is just been targeted by some runaway war machine. Easy problem to solve. Blow the fucker up! Wait, there’s some kind of blue box he needs so we can’t blow it ALL up.
Fantastic, this just gets better. Our Tims not only runs Allentown, he’s a farmer. A DOPE farmer! Apparently getting to A’town isn’t so important that he can’t stop off for some bud.
WHOA that dude is dead! On the upside is 12 cans of beans, a buckboard, 20’ hemp cable, 20’ of hemp rope, a couple horses and a mule.
HOLY SHIT! I was trying to rig the cabin to blow and nearly botched the fuse AGAIN! NICE it worked! One of the raiders just went flying over us. The fields are going to burn for days!
Near Boeing ruins we get ambushed by pig centaurs…PIG centaurs lady and gentlemen. They’re intelligent enough to use primitive weapons. Let’s see how they like a fucking pipe bomb! I guess Tims is an ask questions first kind of guy. Doesn’t seem to fit our team’s mission statement. There’s hope for him yet, he volunteered to butcher the pig centaur for dinner.