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A Few Laughs
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Ranger Center - Parking Lot [east]
You stumble upon the ruins of a cracked, crippled, and long forgotten parking
lot, which once, apparently, provided ample access for those who worked at the
prison to get to their transportation. As the desert light beams down harshly
upon your eyes, you can all ready tell that the majority of the rides which are
here will never again move---twisted metal and charred shells are all that
remain of most. Weeds have sprouted over the heated, blackened chunks of
asphalt laying here and there, all but covering the faded paint of the various
parking sections, and in the background, a rusting, wavering chainlink fence,
covered in loose barbed-wire which hangs limply along its top, stands up only
by a few supports and a prayer, its original intentions all but over.
The heat of the day is finally relenting.
The firebombed remains of a pre-war car rusts here.
A broken-down truck is here on it's side.
Kurtz
Bryan
The sounds of metal against metal echo forth from underneath the hood of the
broken-down truck which predominates the parking lot. Sitting on the front
bracing, atop the radiator, is a tanned, fairly muscular man, his sinews taut
and sweat-covered as he labors on the once-useful engine.
Kurtz leans back on the brace where he's sitting, placing a wrench by his side
before using his right hand to wipe a ridge of sweat away from his brow.
'Damn... even at night you can work up a sweat here.'
Footsteps echo solidly from the lot hallway, changing in tone as a
figure emerges from the doorway, his thick boots now scraping softly against
the asphault. The man looks about from side to side several times, as if
searching for something. His head cocks to the side as he catches the metallic
sounds, and he begins to walk once more, his motions slightly impeded by the
sling over his right arm, now heading towards the truck in question
Kurtz' muscles slightly tense at the sound of the footfalls, but he continues
his work, once more hefting his iron wrench and going to work on the rusted
water-pump jutting from the side of the engine.
Bryan frowns slightly as the brunt of the heat strikes him, pausing in his
motion to pull his jacket free, glad he had decided not to put his arm through
the sleeve. Slinging it over his left shoulder, he starts up again, eventually
reaching the truck. Grabbing an obtrusion with his good arm, he hefts himself
high enough for his head to peer atop the truck's hood, greeting Kurtz with a
simple, "Hi" and a lopsided smile.
Kurtz grunts, moreso than speaks, his right forearm bearing veins and tensed
muscles as his forces the wrench to turn rusted bolts. 'Hey... jus' a
sec...'
For a long moment, the wrench and bolt remain stationary, then with a
resounding pop, and a sudden movement, the bolt turns, rolling forward.
Kurtz turns the wrench slowly now, careful to preserve the threading on the
bolt and stud. 'How's it goin', Cap'n?'
Bryan nods, then drops out of sight. Reshifting his grip, and scouting out
footholds, he hauls himself back up, his boots scrabbling against the side of
the vehicle as he lifts himself up to sit on the edge of the hood, revealing
his condition, "Not to bad, things considered." He shrugs, a one shouldered
affair, "Just wandr'in' around"
Kurtz nods, glancing sidelong at your sling and arm. 'What bit you?'
"An old.. 'quaintance of mine.. one with a nine millimeter." Bryan
half-shrugs again, "Nothing special really.. Typical fare, I s'pose." He turns
at the waist, looking at Kurtz' work, "How's this thing coming 'long?"
Kurtz sighs. 'Well, in about three-hundred years, she might run.' He smiles
half-heartedly, rolling the bolt off of the stud with his nimble fingers.
'Actually, it's not as bad as I thought. It'll take some work to get this
water pump cleaned and operating again, but after this, the rest should be
easy.'
Bryan nods, reaching up to rub his chin with his good hand, "You seem to be
getting 'long better now.." He raises his legs up, turning his body, so as to
better view Kurtz and the engine. His legs fold up akwardly, as he perches on
the narrow lip at the edge of the hood, "Taking my advice to heart, or are you
just settling in as time goes by?"
Kurtz nods, placing the bolt in a pocket of his pants. 'A little of both, I
suppose. I'm having to learn to get along as I am... and accepting that
fact as well. It's gotten easier, but I still get fustrated.' He reaches
down, running his fingers over the surface of the water pump, feeling for
the next bolt. 'I'm still not giving up on replacing it... but until then,
I'll make due.'
Bryan nods, beginning to chuckle softly, "But see? I got a bit of my own
medicine.. Irony is indeed fair. 'Cuz now, you see, I have to prove all that
crap I spouted is what I go by." His smirk straightens into a simple grin, "It's
funny like that. You need any help? I got a second arm if you need one."
Kurtz chuckles softly himself. 'Nah... I got it...' He raises his right hand,
picking up the wrench and fastening it onto the next bolt. 'Well, I guess
we'll see if you walk it like you talk it... but you've got nothing to
prove, really.'
Kurtz grunts as he pushes down with all of his weight on the wrench, the bolt
snapping free from it's rusted resting place quickly. 'I mean, hell, the
Sergeant and the Captain of the New Nevada Rangers are both gimps.' He
smirks at this last comment.
Bryan raises his one arm, gesturing dismissively, "Gimme a week, and I'll be
free of this damn thing." He tugs at the sling with his right arm, his forehead
crinkling slightly as a slight twinge of pain eminates from the wound on his
shoulder. "I don't like having these things on any longer than needed."
Kurtz nods. 'Yeah, but be glad you still got enough to put in a sling.' He
reaches down, after setting his wrench aside once more, to turn the bolt
with his fingers. 'What was left of my left forearm resembled ground beef
more than a hand.'
Bryan nods, "That considered, at least you can move it.. I have to keep my arm
still.. Right now, I can't use it at all. Granted, your condition is more
permanent than mine, but that's my story." Bryan turns to the side, as if
saying something he didn't want Kurtz to hear, though he speaks far to loudly
for that to be the case, "Note to self: Don't complain about arm injuries in
front of Kurtz." He turns back, smiling thinly, "Well then, where were we?"
Kurtz laughs, taking a moment from turning the bolt to flex his right arm, the
bicep standing out intimidatingly. 'You know, I may have one hand, but I
can still push you off this truck.' He smiles, then reaches down to remove
the bolt from it's stud. 'Well, let's see... how's recruitment coming?'
Bryan looks alarmed, "Recruitment? Whoah, I'm a recruiter?" He looks around
aimlessly, as if confused, "I thought my job was to walk around dispensing good
advice and bad jokes." He shrugs, "Well, uh.. In the current state of things,
recruiting is great.. Which means we got one, and one's better than none."
Kurtz snickers. 'Yeah, I'd have to agree with that.' He pauses slipping the
newest bolt into his pant's pocket. 'At least that's one less ganger I'll
have to shoot.' He wrests the wrench from it's resting place on the brace
beside him, and once again goes to work loosening another bolt. 'One more,
and I'll have this thing off. Hell yeah!'
Bryan nods, looking at Kurtz, "You think you could push me off? Could you now?"
He chuckles softly, before continuing, "Do you think that would be a good
idea?" His wide smile melts into an wicked grin, "'Cuz I'm sure I could find
another use for whatever free time you have, If you give me a reason."
Kurtz laughs, pushing down hard on the wrench in hand. 'Hell, name something
around here I _don't_ do already, par'ner...' He flahses you a quick smile.
'If there's anything that I haven't fixed, worked on, or replaced, then it
ain't been broke yet.'
Bryan narrows his eyes slightly, "Don't make me apply my imagination. There are
a lot of things you can do beside fixing things." His expression breaks, "But
of course, you wouldn't push me, now would you?" Leaning back towards the
edge, he stretches his legs out, his precarious position making him an easy
target.
Kurtz shakes his head in an exagerated path. 'No, never. Though I just may
backhand you with this wrench before the day's through.' He grins, and the
bolt give way to the pressure applied by the wrench. Rust flakes fly in
several directions as he begins to twist the bolt away from the stud. 'So,
what's the good word? Or is there any?'
Bryan looks at Kurtz incredulously, "Good word? Hell, If I got a dollar every
time I heard some good words.." He pauses for a few seconds, considering, "Oh,
_that_ good word.. No, no.. I don't think there are any. Not that I'd tell you
anyway.. Threatening me.. Honestly."
Kurtz snickers. 'Hell, someone's got to keep you in line.'
Kurtz places the last bolt in his pocket as he removes it from the stud, the
years of grime and sand holding the water pump to the engine.
Bryan nods, before speaking rather gruffly, "Well, keep it up then, smartass."
He shrugs, before pulling himself back up into a straight sitting position. He
places his feet on the edge of the truck, slowly rising to his feet, "Have fun
with your toy then." With that, he hops backwards off the edge, landing on the
pavement below, with the muffled thud of rubber on asphault.
Kurtz laughs loudly, the sound echoing beneath the opened hood of the truck.
'I'm just messin', Cap'n.' He reaches down, securing his grip on the water
pump as he raises one boot. 'Hell, we've gotta laugh. Otherwise, we'll get
serious and go hide in the mountains like Viktor's bunch.'
Bryan grunts in acknowledgement, leaning against the truck, "I bet." His free
hand drums against the deteriorated plastic and metal of the vehicle's outer
sufrace, "Nah, I think I'll go live in the mountains to get away from the rest
of you.. That, or go insane. Which is sounding better all the time"
Kurtz shakes his head. 'One second...' He lifts his boot up, then shoots it
down, kicking the water pump while at the same time pulling with his his
right hand. The result, the grime 'seal' breaks, and the water pump comes
away clean in Kurtz' hand. 'Alright... no going insane for you, Mister.
Sorry, but we need you.'
"You need me, eh? When was this?" Bryan chuckles, "At times, I wonder
where my niche in this whole mess is. I'm not particularily skilled.
Stubborness alone gets me through the day." He slaps his palm against the
truck, "That, and punishing enlisted." He grins, "God, I love punishing
enlisted."
Kurtz places the water pump on the brace beside him, then spins himself around
to face outside the truck. 'Well, I guess you're right. You really don't do
much around here.' He tries to keep a straight face while saying this, but
ends up laughing uproariously towards the end.
Bryan shrugs, "Have it your way, pal" With a push of his good arm, he
straightens himself up and begins walking towards the building, mumbling softly
about punishment as he trudges through the doorway.
Kurtz shouts after Bryan, laughing all the while, 'Cap'n, anything but latrine
duty!'
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