'Home' - Drinking and Wrestling! (Assignment/Invite)

[Atlas Steele]

Atlas himself after having ordered Axton to clear the fields for nearly seven days now and constantly using his man-power to get things rolling in 'Home' or by some called 'Homestead' he was waiting for the man to come home at this point to his favourite resting spot.
A small pub with a calm enviroment, beasts laying in the side fields as this small building had only three tables at best with wooden walls and a few shoddily made windows.
The pub owner himself making juice and drinks out of the fruits that were growing in the vacinity while above all granting a small collection of cheap drinks to those that were working in the fields.
This fact was what Atlas was banking everything on as he slowly brought himself forwards to get everything set up, a small basket of bread and snacks, some dried sticks of fruit and cereals, a small bowl on the side of some thick slabs of steak that had been prepared to let this man sustain himself correctly as he waited patiently, his eyes aimed at the door and his back at the wall.
Going to wave towards the man if he were to arrive here!

(Get in Axton!)
(Name: Violence of 259
Requirements: 10 Atk
Job: Get into a fight.
Bonus: Fight someone with a title or throw them out a window/through a wall.
Payout: +1 exp, +$150)

[Axton]

Axton pondered over why he was doing this. Today was blistering, manual labor had to be done, yet a soldier was killing time doing it instead. Assuming it was a decade ago, the soldier believed that he should be doing otherwise. Despite that, there's no true command to go back to, from the looks of it. Was it even America anymore? Exhaling an elongated breath, Axton trudged his way out of the field. Turning on his heel, the soldier began to crave a nice, classic soda pop as he approached the shack of a "pub". Just before the doorway, the softest "thunk" against the wood was oddly audible as the door swung open. With the helmet that Axton scavenged, a partially glowing, scarlet glare were in place of his eyes. A tiny radio antenna twitched as the door's gust blew past.

"...Oh."

In a brief attempt to ignore his "employer", the glowing gaze shifted to the man behind the bar.

"Got any pop, barkeep? Need nothin' strong today."

The soldier dragged his feet near the bartender, lightly kicking a stool aside. The helmet's mask breathed a hollow grunt as Axton slid his rear end over the seat. What a sensation; sitting. Leaning forward, folding his arms, drooping his head somewhat, the soldier got comfortable. Not exactly relaxed, granted; yet relatively comfortable. A worn and scratched weapon hung from his thigh, each side of it bearing engravings from ramblings and sentimentality long past. Meanwhile, the chamber remained empty and lacking bullets, perhaps on purpose.

---

Huzzah he exists; now where's my soda?

[Atlas Steele]

While the barkeep went to the back of the building to grab a few bottles of carbonated fruit juice, he just shook his head at this notion of 'pop' there are no poppers, poppers were those tiny toys that were dropped by other kids on the ground.
Yet as he deliverd it to the table where the man was waiting for the soldier, Atlas himself simply rose up his feet from the table and started to make his posture look a bit more presentable.

"Welcome Axton, i have given you quite a few options, but i am here to ask for something else currently, something that you may find more interesting."

Taking out a small map regarding the surrounding areas as he tapped the area where they had set up base, the city that was build populating quite a large number of people that had to be kept safe and protected, something the beasts helped surprisingly enough.

"I need somebody with a weapon, somebody who is also known to protect american soil and help spread out their justice.
Above all, i need somebody who is willing to lead a small platoon and get some intel on what kind of beasts live in the areas surrounding us, especially these."

Pointing to the northern district, north-west and western, making sure that he would figure out what he was exactly getting at he would then place a small file on the table.

"Written information on the platoon units, but first things first, i would need you to check yourself and make sure you are strong enough.
Now, what is the best way for you to prove your determination to protect the kids living here and to show your strength?"

[Axton]

The soldier offered no remark or retort as Mr. Steele began to speak. Atlas' note of something "more interesting" was deemed entirely subjective to Axton, therefore he wasn't convinced of it. Albeit, there wasn't much Axton would be immediately into at the moment, surely. Tapping and flicking at the bottle of "carbonated juice", whatever that abomination happened to be, Mr. Steele revealed a minuscule map. The beginning of Mr. Steele's little moment wasn't entirely fascinating; "someone with a weapon"...anyone could fit that description. However, what boiled down to "an American soldier", that of which followed, brought some meager interest to the table. Atlas' following comment was somewhat outside what Axton happened to be qualified for. Working alongside infantrymen wasn't any issue; leading them, though? Gathering intelligence on wildlife?

The specified areas that Mr. Steele directed to were a fair distance away, at least by foot. If the soldier were to take a brief guess, the farthest point likely to be tasked would take over a day's walk, perhaps at least. With what geographical knowledge he still remembered of pre-war America, Axton surmised that mountains and forests would get in the way; they would be squatting around Wyoming either way. Whilst in thought, a file was placed on the countertop. How covert, given these times. However, before the soldier could consider flitting through the files, Atlas gave a condition; a combat-related test. Regardless, using children to provoke further performance or a reason to fight via their existence alone was pointless. Axton, as a soldier, preferred to remain without sentiment. Either way, might as well get some of those bodily chemicals going.

"Fine. Keep in mind though, that I have no obligation to serve you. As far as I'm aware you're no American general; or any superior of mine."

Sliding off the bar stool, Axton took a rather wide pace from the bar. Facing Mr. Steele, the soldier's hands met at his sides.

"No point unless you attempt to strike first. Attempt."

[Atlas Steele]

Knowing full well that this man had atleast some taste, he wasn't going to just get a cheapshot in, Atlas himself stretched his body, his expierience in battle offensively was lacking, of course, but what he wasn't lacking was his defensive knowledge as he pushed the table to the side slowly before then stepping in for a simple jab, his foot going to take place by trying to stomp down on the opponent infront of him.
Which wasn't the only thing he was planning to do, using both of these as distractions he would grasp the man, knowing that his weight wasn't too absurd to carry and attempt to fling him out of the window that was once behind him.

"Now, As we get this going, please do remember that this is a battle to see if you are fit enough to own a small platoon, maybe even take the place of being the leader of the army and protection of this part of your precious america."

[Axton]

Mr. Steele's jab came with, while not ideal, a prime opportunity. The soldier shifted his feet aside, swiftly running his right foot parallel to his opponent's stomping limb. With enough velocity to create a brief gust, a weathered firearm revealed itself. Whilst still unloaded, the weapon spun along the soldier's fingers; eventually being grasped by the barrel. In an attempt to counter-distract from Atlas' attempted grapple, Axton made an effort to pistol-whip his opponent's masked visage; particularly near the jaw. In addition, Axton's free arm lunged forward, attempting for one scooping upwards behind Atlas' left shoulder, the other grasping his left arm partially by the sleeve after sliding his weapon into a miscellaneous pouch. In an attempt to prepare a throw, the soldier would soon turn on his heel, lurching forward as to bring Mr. Steele's momentum with him.

No words, only victory.

[Atlas Steele]

Atlas felt the pistol whip into his jaw, a soft bruise forming, uncharacteristic to the normal markings of a blunt weapon, the show of a blueish purple spot slowly starting to appear on his jaw instead of letting the sounds of cracking bones be heard.
Yet it didn't stop there, Atlas having fully underestimated the potential in this man before suddenly being tossed using his weight into the wall, tumbling through the entire wall.
Broken pieces of wood starting to rain upon the outside word that this little building was sheltering them from, the sun that was once raised high was making a carefull descent downwards, still having atleast a hour or maybe 30 minutes at most before this sight of light would be taken from us.
Scraping against the ground and the pieces of broken wood, Atlas soon caught himself with his foot on one weaker part of the flooring, cracking through it and causing a rather painfull stab to appear through his body.

"Okay, You son of a bitch, that hurt quite a bit, but this doesn't mean i am going to give this up already okay? So get out of there before we take that building down!"

Smiling widely, Atlas did notice a rather simple flaw in his plan, his eyes shifting around for something to fight with... This man before him was equipped with weapons, but he wasn't.
This was a huge issue.

[Axton]

Somehow lifting that much so suddenly happened to succeed. Flinging Mr. Steele past the bar's entryway wall, the soldier deftly relocated his empty weapon as he dashed to the shattered wood. Axton's pistol once again hung from his thigh as Atlas crumbled excess amounts of patio once he landed. There was an immediate ache in the soldier's biceps, albeit this certainly wasn't the time to discern the potential damage. Mr. Steele had a brief moment to retort and insult all he wanted before the soldier took a tiny hop; once again leaping, this time from a less than sharp piece of shattered wall. Soaring high enough to touch upon the patio's cover, the soldier soon pushed off and rocketed down in an attempt to force a defining victory. If Axton were able to drive his knees into Mr. Steele's mid-to-upper torso, especially given his stature, then the soldier would plant his left hand onto that bulky throat. Additionally, Mr. Steele may find a barrel pointed at his cranium. Regardless, this would either end, or needlessly drag on.

[Atlas Steele]

Seeing the gun pushed against his cranium, with the palm against his neck, it was at this point that he knew all too well that he was serious, that he was willing to put some dirt on his hands, but it was also the mistake that he had made at this point, slowly raising his body upwards, pushing against the ground and using his weight to then spin a bit to the side to cause his balance to shift.
It was at this point that the man would simply attempt to perform a straight jab towards the opponent before his fist would hang casually in the air.

"Yep, i am not fit for fighting at all am i? Now i must ask, if you are able to see and fight with such passion, you will be granted the title of the leader of the guards.
From this point on you are given your own section of platoons and go wild, i cannot say that anything seems off."

Atlas himself was at this point showing that this fight wasn't being taken seriously in the least before he would then raise his body and cause a soft sigh to escape.

"I do not need your loyalty, i want a comrade, is that okay with you?"

[Axton]

Axton retreated from the giant's torso as he rose. Surely he got the idea. Mr. Steele couldn't be this dim, right? As another jab approached the soldier, a left hand swiftly attempted to grasp at it to ensure the impossibility of contact. The firearm, now pointed away from Atlas, remained firmly within Axton's hand. By then, more comments came.

"You're just not professionally trained."

Regardless, being granted the title of "Leader of the Guards" appears somewhat vague. Are these guards even trained? Are they armed? Do they know how to disassemble a firearm in under thirty seconds? Such issues must be addressed immediately if any are applicable to these "guards". Anything else would only add to any plausible predicaments; given how unsure the soldier was on the time that had passed, who knows what was left of America's tried-and-true training remained. Despite that, Atlas made a rather fair statement. This territory didn't appear very developed; especially given the fact that he had to do manual labor himself. Allies would be more of a priority, surely.

"...Fine. Let me see your "guards", Mr. Steele."

[Atlas Steele]

As this statement was made, Atlas sighed softly, while realizing how much this man was down playing everything, surely they were not as well trained as the soldiers in the past, but they had a small edge in this case over others as Atlas softly smiled, showing a bunch of people dressed in plated mail and with old cannibalized outfits from the military that decorated their bodies with a small red text of 'home' written on the back to indicate who they shouldn't shoot when they were fleeing, with a red star on the front to indicate the same as he then spoke.

"They are not as good as other soldiers, with the inability to use guns as they have no reason to be used recently, with many many weapons giving barely more than a scratch.
It is why we have been training them alongside the animals using spears, blades and surprisingly enough, Qi arrows as i continue my research towards Qi sprites, creatures that manipulate the elements to their whims."

[Axton]

Axton wasn't fairly impressed with these guards. Haphazard equipment and horribly maintained gear didn't leave much for a positive impression. Atlas brought up the lack of firearm training and use. That damnable deduction was infuriating.

"You task the equivalent of improperly trained citizens to hold the remnants of the world's greatest country with equipment ready to fall apart and not a single modern weapon in sight?! If we're going to be so barbarous I may as well have off with your head for that!"

The soldier gave a dramatic upward sweep with his left palm, almost gesturing to the "guards" as he glared behind the mask of his helmet. Mr. Steele's following comments hardly gave Axton much more confidence in the current combative staff. Whatever this "Qi" business was it sounded akin to ludicrous voodoo. Sprites; what malarkey was that? Axton almost audibly scoffed.

"Can those "sprites" of yours whip us up some actual weapons then? Is anyone here trained to wield a weapon of such certain length? Or anything categorized as "melee"? No matter how damned this world has gone there's bound to be something lying around. First the lack of actual American soda pop and now this?!"

Axton hardly cared nor mulled over why or how other weapons gave little-to-no injury. Without standard infantryman equipment, what much use is there for these "guards"? The world has gone to Hell and hasn't come back, clearly.

[Atlas Steele]

Atlas simply looked confused before then sighing to himself and taking out a small gun from a nearby box that was labelled scrap metal and aiming it at his own hand.
Simply glaring towards the man called Axton, with confusion on his own face, as if almost trying to explain that what he was going on about, made no god damn sense.
He pulled the fucking trigger.
A single shot was heard, the echo was violent, but it was also filled with interest of those around.

Having taken away his hand, Atlas showed that there was no bullet wound, instead just a flat piece of metal as he tossed the weapon to Axton to check upon it, Sure, it wasn't kept up to standard.
But it had enough firepower to penetrate atleast somebody's head.

"Axton, Times have changed, you can shoot the other guards their palms too and nothing will happen, weapons have been turned into nothing as Qi became a known thing to take away the power of guns.
Why do you think you got that check up? You have been awakened to these powers too and as such will be training the people in Qi combat as you learn how to use it and will create your own style of Qi Gun Battling."

Before then saying.

"But i do have a mount for you, his name is Siffy, A guy used to like this game called darker something? And he was from it."

As he whistled the name Siffy as a large, wolf like beast made it's way over.
Happily placing it's belly down on the ground

"Any questions?"

[Axton]

Given that both men had face wear concealing their facial features, the soldier wasn't much to discern expressions immediately. Unfortunately, Mr. Steele's seemingly spiteful reaction by firing upon his own hand was crystal goddamn clear. The resulting bang, while still ringing in Axton's ears, was thankfully somewhat muffled from its utmost blare. Behind the helmet, the expression the soldier made wasn't one he'd prefer letting anyone see. One of the most technologically advanced weaponry designed to take human life was trivialized by a giant's callous hand. The weapon was tossed to him as he remained in silence. What an embarrassment, yet an equal source of ire. This was, while ill-maintained and dirty, a .501 Smitty & West'un magnum; one of the most powerful handguns available before America's dividing war.

The worst of it all was that this couldn't be useful outside the handgun; the soldier's own was incompatible in ammunition. Axton's own sidearm chamber was too tiny. Regardless of the soldier's silent stance, holding up the firearm to chest level by both hands, Mr. Steele brought out the rug. As soon as he placed it beneath him, he tore it away; providing that with the worst of phrases. Some nonsensical bullshit took away the best known offensive capabilities in the world? How long was he in that muddy pit? What year was it? Atlas' words hardly reached Axton, even after bringing over the giant wolf. The soldier meekly glanced over, his eyes setting upon the school bus-sized animal.

"What year is it? Does the American flag even stand anymore?"

[Atlas Steele]

A soft whine and a soft nudge with a large nose as anybody could feel the long breathe before it used the tip of it's tongue to lick the fallen soldier.
Feeling sad that this wasn't a happy human, that was very bad.
Atlas himself at this point would just let the man process everything.
The wolf himself was just busy getting his business together, having his tiny tongue tip wetting the creature that was laying on the ground, swallowing itself in self pity as it just did a soft collaboration of whines and barks, trying to get the creature to cheer up, trying to get the creature to be happier and do something that would be much better than just laying on the ground be sad before it moved one paw over as if to confirm that he was there for him.

Atlas at this point then took a look around at the weapons before then smiling contently.

"You must have noticed too, of course you have, try to lift the beast his paw, it seems unnatural and impossible at your old level of strength, but just try, this is where the new weapons have come from and where i have been growing to be annoyed by your pride.
But not everything is lost.
Check out your strength and i give you a simple promise, what if i look around to see if there is a weapon that would benefit you in town, a weapon that you could use that would still damage people?
If i am able to find this, am i allowed to think of your life as partially mine, so that we can start this plan of expanding our civilization and making sure that these smaller wars that cover america and destroy it internally... Are stopped?"