Salvaging [Open]

[Quinn]

-Directive One- 

Salvage

The silent morning would be interrupted only by the dull thrumming sound coming from down the road. Cycling round and round, bounding off of every hillside throughout the canyon as the motorbike escalated up the windy way making its way to the lonely suburbs from which Quinn used to live. She had been on a number of runs over the past couple months sustaining just enough to last her the month but she was running the circumventing neighborhoods dry. You see it wasn't just her she was looking out for. A small smirk hidden beneath her cap as she tilted it downwards over her eyes to keep the sharp wind from splicing her vision. 

At the top of the canyon she'd entered into a small neighborhood mostly unscathed by the bombs path aside from a few close calls splintering into a number of the buildings here and there. This small neighborhood happened to be known for their Halloween treats, a rather affluent district that was better off than most. So by logic aside Quinn figured they'd be loaded as far as perishable supplies. However as nature would have it, being in the neutral zone, everything was fair game. 

Her bike would come to a calming stop, the buzz of the engines cutting short and silenced with the turn of a key at the end of the block. She had no intention of running herself into the nearest building without some certainties set in place. Edging off the side of her bike, Quinn would escort it en-tow into the nearest scenery of bushes making sure to cover her bike as though it was left there from this almost certain rapture. Turning about to take a glance at the nearest building she cracked her knuckles and licked her lips.


'Well time to get down to business.'

She'd calmly think to herself pulling a baseball bat off the rear of the motorbike before striking off to the door. Quinn's eyes tapered around the entryway making sure to peer into the windows and along the side walkways that had been neatly manicured. A small wrap on the door as she waited before taking a deep breath.

*Crash*

Quinn's hands nimbly motioned about the broken window she'd neatly trimmed past and fiddled open the door's lock. 'Sorry'. She couldn't help but think to herself even if there weren't people presently living here she felt guilty for having broken what was there's without the option of reprieve. 

[Abram Dabra]

Salvaging was a big part of The Punk's life. Taking broken crap and forging it in to awesome tools and technological marvels. Well, marvels that really only he could use. He didn't like to put batteries or power sources in his toys. Less chance of someone else using them against him if they couldn't get it to work.

Today he was widening his search net a bit. Going with a safer route than last time too. The Neutral Zone was often picked clean, but there were always gems to find. His little Junk Yard and the Wasteland Oasis were proof of that. What he hoped to find in this little neighborhood? Well he didn't know. That was half of the fun of salvaging. Exploration, but with skills like his everything was useful.

A remote control here, some scrap metal there. Even canned food that was left out. He could find a use for something, even if it was nothing but trade fodder. The sound of breaking glass at the front door of the house he was currently poking through caused his head to snap up and his eyes to scan around. No good place to hide for long. He took up a spot against the wall of the kitchen which connected to the living room. Crouching low and keeping still so he didn't make a lot of noise. He would wait for whoever it was to enter and take a quick peek so he could assess the possible threat level he was dealing with.

He just hoped it wasn't some band of roaming thugs. Or Barker soldiers or whatever. Last thing he wanted was a fight. Not here at least, the terrain was not as favorable as he would have liked. He didn't have a lot of possible contingents. But he could always flee if it looked hairy.

[Quinn]

It was quiet, that wasn't the real unusual part of the equation. It seemed more of a strike of miracle that this place seemed rather untouched by the greedy palms of the desiring world. Even still Quinn wasn't the sort of person to get down on a little good luck thrown her way in fact she decidedly reveled in it. A cool smirk and a stretch to the sky, Quinn let the bat dangle loosely at her side whilst the other hand motioned upwards to clasp at the brim of her baseball cap taking it off in a brisk motion to pat along her side. This place seemed empty enough that she didn't need to worry much, he pace slinking into a slow loli-gagging fashion and slumping the bat she was carrying against the wall parting ways with it before fixating the hat back over her skull and marching on around the corner and into the kitchen.

If the stranger hadn't moved from his position in the slow timing pace that Quinn had taken to strut over to the kitchen and around the bend she'd instantly react. The immediate reaction was her jumping in full reverse a good foot backwards and planting herself against the wall hands up defensively ready to catch any strike coming her way really. Her mouth strung agape and her attention set on the stranger with the coordination only a cornered animal would know. 

"I don't want any trouble, just here for supplies."

Quinn still a little bit jumpy would invariably respond to any suggested stimuli he'd set off. However if he had moved to veil himself further within the kitchen and Quinn hadn't been so lucky to bump into him she'd continue on her seemingly carefree demeanor into the corner of the kitchen where the refrigerator was stocked. Granted there was no bother of her checking there, everything in there was probably way past due but she could kill for some...

The door parting and despite the terrible smell came slight relief as the site of several bottles of water lay stashed near the contents rear. Click, Glug. One down the pipe, she was lucky to have that much but the rest of this was needed elsewhere, she couldn't be so greedy as to indulge in further. 

[Abram Dabra]

It was a girl, a cute one too. His guard relaxed a bit as a goofy grin came into play hidden by the steel mask. He allowed himself to fantasize about her, what brought her here. Who she was and where she came from. He imagined she was probably a cheer leader before the bombs dropped. Yeah, that was totally it. And she probably used to parade around in her cheer leading outfit. He would have totally watched her practice her high kicks though, that was damn sure. She had nice legs, tits could have stood to be a bit bigger. But not every girl was sporting giant milk missiles. But smaller ones were perky and had a great shape to them!

He snapped himself out of it as she started to head right for the kitchen though. Sliding away from the door he looked around, there was nowhere good to hide that he could see! Not anywhere that wouldn't compromise himself to much if he got caught. So that ruled out under the sink and in the fridge. His head darted back and forth, he should run for the door. Yes. The back door! But he was too slow. He too jumped back when she almost ran into him.

Shit!

He didn't raise his hands to fight but rather both hands up in front of him. He really wasn't into the whole trading blows in a fair fight kind of deal. He wasn't even keen on getting paid for a fair fight. He'd rather just find some sneaky way to get the jump on his target.

"If you didn't want trouble then why are you breaking in here!?"

Totally not your place Clyde. And you broke in here first. You just used the back entrance. She could probably see the kitchen door that lead out back had a window broken in as well. Looks like he had come in much the same way.

[Quinn]

Everything working as though the springs were coiling back into place ready to fire off at any second what had been relaxed and cool demeanor was now traded off with a dire sense of self preservation, with a need to respond to this pressing issue. Heated were her cheeks flushed with a dire sense of purpose and exploration, her eyes traced off over to where she'd left the bat despite having left it far out of reach. Quinn's eyes slowly located it only to dart back to the stranger his presence strange not only due to the fact that he was in an abandoned home but more pressing that he was wearing a strange mask. Normally she'd have jumped at the opportunity to snag the bat and go out the way she'd came that was until he'd talked. 

"Me? I knock-" Her eyes slowly shifting off to the other corner of the room where the window had been broken into at the back of the kitchen, "What are you doing here?!"

Her tone shifted from defensive to accusatory as if the shoe was on the complete other foot in this situation. Quinn's right hand flustered into a closed grip. She glowered down back at him taking that height advantage now to assert her claim to the supplies.  The pair were probably complete opposites; Quinn dressed in a pair of tattered dark navy jeans, a maroon band shirt concealed under a leather bikers jacket, her palms tightly noosed by leather gloves that squeaked noticeably as her fists clenched. 

"I'm here to get some supplies, so if you're not here for trouble best to just keep to yourself."

[Abram Dabra]

When her eyes went to her bat he lowered his hands, his right hand reaching into one of the pouches along his belt to pull out one of his little smoke bombs. Just in case things got dicey, she was jumpy. That meant she could be reckless. He could stay calm and keep control of the situation. He grinned under the mask as she shifted to accusing him and going on the verbal attack. Like what he was doing was so wrong when she was here to loot it. Typical.

"What do you think I'm doing here?"

He asked in a snarky tone as he shifted to get the kitchen table between the two of them. No point in making it easy for her if she decided to get violent.

"And as for me not causing trouble. This is my claim. Find your own sector."

Cause he totally had dibs. Why? Because he said so. Rule of the wasteland. Those that could hold and establish their claims ruled. And he wasn't going to let some blonde bimbo cheerleader with an inch or two on him intimidate him. He was a professional.

"However if you want to salvage on my claim I suppose we could work out some kind of deal..."

His voice trailed off as he continued to stare at her, hidden by his mask. Licking his lips as he fantasized about just what would be under all that clothes. Oh sure she might be angry about it at first, but he could treat her right. Take her back to the oasis. Oh yeah baby, you want food and water you can come back home with The Punk.

As for The Punk's appearance. Well he wasn't some random thug, that was for sure. Metal mask covered his features and distorted his voice just a bit. A cloak covered the winch on his back and the air compression unit that shot it out. He was decked out in full survival gear, boots, thick and sturdy pants. He even had a flak jacket and a lot of pouches to hold random shit. He didn't go anywhere unprepared. The world had gone to shit and he had adapted.

[Quinn]

One could say she was out of her league by comparison to this fellow. The full decked out combat gear was one tell tale sign of that as for the rest that was veiled out of sight well she couldn't have know that much about him. Quinn hardly made little of even the most meager of threats, all she was here to do was to get supplies from here back to homebase. If she could avoid a conflict with this guy it would really make her day but the way he was postured really sent a creeping chill up her spine. 

"A deal? How bout down the middle, seems only fair."

Quinn replied correcting her tone a bit as well as her posture standing now a bit more upright so that she was coming off as less of a violent threat but more as someone he could communicate with and come to a peaceful agreement. As the man moved around the backside of the kitchen Quinn followed moving slowly as though she was mirroring a deadly animal of the prairie. Her hands etched along the back cabinets trying to gain a hold of whatever supplies looked salvageable. First of which seemed to be some tomato sauce.

"Any vices on letting this one go?" Holding up the small glass dispensary before eying up the refrigerator. "I'd die for some water." Quinn would shift glances back to the mysterious stranger as though asking for permission to continue onward to investigate the spoils. 

[Abram Dabra]

"Whatcha got to trade for it?"

He asked, his hand still gripping the smoke bomb in his palm. Worst case scenario he could throw the bomb, in the confusion slip out one of his decoys, come up from behind her and conk her over the head. It was messy but it would probably get the job done. Though if she was one of those freaks it might be a bit harder than that. He wished he had his improved helmet finished. But it was taking longer than he thought.

His own posture was changing from flight to fight. He was in control of this situation. Full confidence, that's how he was going to keep on top. He needed to trust his gut, and his gut said that shit girl would fold.

[Quinn]

The sudden urgency to go back into the other room for her bat was a very tempting one though she had a naive sense of understanding people and always seemingly hoping for the best end result as possible. She'd narrowly nibble at the corner of her lips trying to work her way about his wording but really not having enough of a real considerable understanding of this person to really deal with it. 

"Trade? Its not yours to begin with," Quinn responded with a tolerable tone, calm initially however there was a growing sense of concern wavering at the back of her throat fearful of how he may respond. "Listen, we can call it an even deal and not have to worry about things getting out of hand."

It wasn't intended as a threat however it may have come off, regardless Quinn really was intent on holding her ground, she'd show that even more so as she passed off the tomato sauce jar across the table as a meek offering before reaching back once more feeling up the random assortment of cans peeled out on the kitchen sides.

[Abram Dabra]

The Punk's empty hand reached out to snatch up the can of tomato sauce. It was his now. He weighed his options. How much was this all worth to him. He didn't have especially high hopes for the place, it's not like it was the junk yard. That place was a gold mine for him. But there was a certain principle. He didn't like backing down like this. It showed weakness.

"Not exactly an even deal if I just let you do what you want. But I'll tell you what. I'm a fair business man."

He put the can of cause down and reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and laid it on the table. It was a contract! He carried a few of them around in case he met a client.

"I'll let you take what you want and you'll just give me an IOU."

Totally a businessman at heart.

"What's your name anyways sweet cheeks?"

[Quinn]

Normally Quinn would have been put off by the by the rude matter-of-factly presentation this punk was suggesting, it was something that worked against her honor and upset her. Presuming that she was only giving him the brunt side of the deal, the leftovers if you will. To be fair Quinn would take anything she could get.

"Hell I'll take that back if you don't want it." Quinn ushered with a courtly grin reaching out again for it in return but stopping short as he pulled out the contract and offered up the prospect of an IOU. Now that was something that caused her calm demeanor to somewhat fidgit. Her left eye wincing a bit as though to suggest mild irritation at the prospect. On her honor it was a rare priority to go back on a deal and an IOU was just as good as any sort of contract to her.

"It's Quinn, not sweet cheeks." She responded calmly enough before taking the first instance to turn her back to him and make way into the kitchen, into the fridge and grasp that first notion of water, making sure to grab two placing the second of them and placing it on the table once more as an offering. "I don't make deals I can't promise to repay." It was honest, even brutally so. For everything she took here wasn't just for her, it was for the other people that'd settled with her.

[Abram Dabra]

The Punk could not and would not drink as it would require taking off the mask. Not something he did with clients. And she was certainly a prospective client. But then again most people were. He grinned behind his mask at her facial twitch at the sign of the contract. And her word choice, while it sounded like a rejection was not outright. It just meant that she needed some boundaries. He was fine with that, if anything he respected that she didn't just sign it blindly.

"Well we are here at the negotiating table now. So let's figure out what you can promise to repay."

He stayed standing, he didn't want to get to comfortable yet. Hell, for all he knew she wasn't alone. Since he wasn't at the Oasis it was prudent to be ready for trouble. He didn't have the home field advantage.

"Right off the bat I can assure you that I will not ask you to kill anyone or to die."

Death made some people really squeamish, not him though. People died, hell the people who had lived here were surely dead. Death could be good for business, as long as he wasn't the one dying.

[Quinn]

Quinn remained silent at this point hearing him out although primarily displeased at the signals he was picking up off her. As much as it sounded like an open ended statement it was as good as a denial. She had little to nothing to offer in exchange and in this bleeding world things often resulted in being taken by force, if he wanted something out of her thats about how it would boil down to, a show of force. Quinn's jaw buckled slightly at the mention of murder, he was quite acute as to the effect that such deeds made people squeamish it wasn't as though she was, Quinn had afterall killed once, it was more of the fact that he said it in such a cold manner as though life had such little weight to him. Quinn would never take a life unless she had to, and on fair grounds. She had a strong affinity to the belief that to take a life one needed to be prepared to have her life in danger as well, and to put herself on even ground she needed to fight on exactly the same par they were. 

A silent nod in return to his commentary.Quinn didn't want to kill anyone but she didn't want to give away that fact to a stranger for any real sign of weakness or hesitation that she was unwilling to draw blood against an enemy would be a blaring achilles heel to reveal. "What did you have in mind?" She'd pursed her lips a little uncertain as to the pandoras box she was opening and quietly resolved into the basin of the water bottle she had taken to like a fish. 

[Abram Dabra]

The Punk had a very simple belief that panned out more often than not. Everything and everyone had a price. Everything was for sale. The price wasn't always money true, as those that fancied them as pure of heart or beyond corruption thought themselves above being bought. There was also land, titles, favors, tasks, supplies, mercy for themselves or others. The price was not always reasonable, but it was always there.

The trick here is he was trying to sell her something she wasn't sure she wanted or needed to buy. Meaning he needed to make the price appealing to her. A task made more challenging by him not knowing how dire her situation may be, or what there was to find. He let out a small hum as he considered his options.

"Well we seem to have established you can't pay with anything useful but yourself."

"We could work out a labor arrangement or something unless you have a specialized skill set I should know about."

He paused for a beat before continuing.

"Of course there are other ways a pretty little thing like you could pay."

He said with a bubbling giggle.

[Quinn]

With that her hue narrowed into daggers shooting ice cold beams of 'how dare you' into her acquaintance's eyes. Quinn wasn't so naive as to completely miss what he was hinting out but none so bold as to draw immediate attention to it. Her left fist clinched out of a sudden onslaught of angst just out of sight from beneath the table while her opposite hand remained steady wavering a heavy grip against the emptied plastic bottle until it was empty and crunched into abysmal trash and left atop the tabletop lazily. 

"Not a chance." She huffed closing those hostile eyes and rolling her brows into a calming relaxed state letting herself a moment to take a breather and step back from the situation. She had people to tend to but there were other means then whoring herself out for supplies. That sigh of relief as the hotty heat left her cheeks and left the binding grip in her left hand before she'd turn about to grab two more bottles from the fridge turning to strut out the kitchen. 

"Keep the rest. I'll find another spot to salvage." Silently turning her back to him unprepared to whether or not he'd follow or otherwise. Her hands were preoccupied with the bottles really to bother with anything else but she'd stop narrowly before the door, assuming she'd make it there, to shuffle the bottles into one handed grip and pinch up the bat in her freed hand/