Wasteland Oasis (Clyde's Base)

[Abram Dabra]

That was his fucking truck! This guy was a fucking asshole! Pushing open the door as the truck started to lift he curled his body as his winch fired out, wrapping around one of the support beams around the pumps and pulling him out of the truck before it was done flipping. The truck clipping his legs and sending his trajectory off and causing him to slam against the pillar instead.

"Oooff."

Slightly dazed he tries to shake it off as the winch starts to unwind. But the world was spinning. He was... not expecting this guy to be able to do that.

[John]

John would spot the guy pulling himself from the wrecked truck and would usually move in for the kill, but he was a cocky bastard and had too much pride to attack a man unprepaired... Kid... Person... Whatever he was.

Holding out a hand he'd wait for the punk to notice before giving the bring it hand wave. Taking in a breath.

Current Temperature: 118

Strength: 55
Dexterity: 47
Constitution: 53
Intelligence: 52
Wisdom: 52
Charisma: 39 -4 +3

[Abram Dabra]

When The Punk was back up he shook his head, the hand reaching for the remote to send the throne back at John. He figured the guy would try to smack it away with his hammer again. But The Punk was ready for that and if he went to use his hammer then The Punk would bend over and fire the winch at the man. The aim was to wrap the hook around the hammer and then pull it back with the winch.

Then dodge the flying hammer shooting at him. Hopefully. Preferably...

[John]

John would look to the throne in time to notice it, but too late to note the hook grabbing the hammer, he didn't have time to play with that, so he let it go, charged up his Qi and exerted it in a burst of energy around himself in a dome of pure fire and super heated air.

Simply to slow the throne in front of him as he moved with a step inward to punch straight into the seat of the throne embedding his arm to about the elbow before lifting it with a roar of strain before tossing it to the side and turning back towards the punk.

Current Temperature: 108

Strength: 55 +5
Dexterity: 47 +10
Constitution: 53
Intelligence: 52
Wisdom: 52
Charisma: 39

[Abram Dabra]

It was a good plan. Flawless even. Except for the fact that they were next to the gas pumps. And The Punk actually had gas in one of the pumps. Five gallons of gas to be exact. So when he did his little dome explosion of fire and air it would look a little something like this.

The concussive force would blow the kid back, and the hammer, sending him flying into the wall of his gas station. It would likely throw John back too, but who knows. He already showed he could do stuff non normal people could do. The flipped truck would roll with the blast, getting even more trashed. It was a small mercy that the truck wasn't filled with gas as well. He figured that made it harder to steal.

But yeah. Blasted through a wall. Explosion, his truck wrecked. He was done fighting. Mostly from the wall. It freaking hurt and he just wanted to lay down a minute and hope he wasn't dead.


Lost all gas character possessed at this point. -5 gallons

[John]

Luckily John was fire proof, but the concussive force was enough to rocket him off to the side, bouncing off the near by exterior of the gas station, before tumbling to the ground, stumbling and sliding across it before coming to a stop.

Waiting a minute he'd slowly get up looking at the wreckage.

"Damn..."

He'd go about looking for his hammer, finding it in the punks wench tool he'd grab it.

"Need my help now?"

He'd say before hitting one of the bent support beams with his hammer which was now glowing red. The support beam moving back into position, not all the way, but enough that it was obvious the job would get done fairly quickly.

[Abram Dabra]

It took a minute for the stars to stop flying above his head, but when they did. And it really clicked in his head what the fuck had happened. Well he pretty much lost it. He jumped to his feet and started motioning frantically at the exploded gas pumps, the hole in his wall, his truck.

Oh God his truck!

"What the hell you crazy bastard!?!!? That was my stuff! What the fuck is wrong with you."

His hands shifting from the wreckage back at John and then back to the wreckage. And now he was offering to help. Damn right he was going to help fix this shit. Not by hitting it with a hammer you dumba-.

That thought got stopped as soon as he saw what the hammer could do. Dollar signs started blinding his vision because they could totally rake in some cash with an ability like that!

"Hell yeah I could use your help fixing this stuff. You broke it, and you owe me."

Like maybe 60% of the take...

[John]

John would chuckle for a second.

"My name is John."

He'd go to fixing the rest of the support beam with a few more taps.

"I aint fixing everything. Show me what you really need."

[Abram Dabra]

He scurries out to really appraise the damage to the area. The wall he could fix. A patch job, it wouldn't be pretty but it would get the job done. The gas pumps were fucking toast. If John could fix those that would be a miracle. As for the truck. It was pretty trashed.

He could probably fix that. But it would take some time. And parts. A lot of both. It would probably be less hassle to just find a new car or truck. But he had grown kind of attached to it. It was a piece of shit, but it was his piece of shit.

"Gas pumps are going to be the hardest to replace. Truck is gonna take some time too. The wall's a quick patch job."

He nodded at John's name. Well it seemed they were becoming fast friends.

"You can call me The Punk. Or Punk."

He didn't wanna get too cozy though. Never know when you would need to vanish. No sense giving out his name.

"You need a job?"

Cause damn those skills are nice.

[John]

John would move to the truck and flip it back to its wheels, observing the damage he go to fixing it.

"Not particularly. Got too many jobs as is. I am however looking for a place to open up shop."

[Abram Dabra]

"I think that could be arranged. The Gas station has a couple of bays where the mechanics used to be set up. I'll rent one out to you. Say 50 percent of your cut?"

He was high balling and he knew it. But you always start high to give yourself some room to haggle. That was business 101.

[John]

John would continue the work of what would appear to be John smashing the shit out of the punks truck, only to watch it slightly fix itself with each hit.

"Fifteen."

[Abram Dabra]

"Forty."

Jesus Christ's nutsack did he want that hammer. He wondered if he would be able to acquire it somehow. Perhaps a trade. Or a job. Though he got the feeling that John was pretty attached to it. But hey, everyone had a price right? That was what he based his whole moral compass on after all!

[John]

"Twenty. And I'll keep up repairs around here."

John would continue smash/fixing the punks truck. Paying more attention to it than the punk for the moment.

[Abram Dabra]

"Make it twenty five and you have yourself a deal."

He shifted to the side of the man with the hammer, watching as he continued to fix the truck in the most remarkable way. Fuck did he want that hammer. He extended his hand to the guy.

"What do you say?"