You get out of the buggy and pry open the tank. You could almost swear you heard once that a car could run on alcohol briefly; maybe a dune buggy could too. You wince a little as you pour the entire contents of your vodka canteen into the open tank. It isn't much, barely even a liter, but maybe it'll be enough.
You are rewarded for your noble sacrifice after turning the key again. The buggy sputters to life, rumbling violently and making a painful grinding noise. You pump your fist excitedly and begin to think about where you should drive.
You feel moderately hungry and heavily thirsty. You feel buzzed. The time is 12:28 PM.
Should we keep heading for the mountains or head in one of the directions those signs were pointing? They might lead to a town.
0
Munkus BeaverYou don't have to attend every argument you are invited to.Philosophy: Stoicism. Politics: Democratic SocialistRegistered User, ClubPAregular
Head in the direction of the tire treaded sign for any indication of life or water, all while singing "Danger Zone" in your head.
When that gets boring, try doing "Juke Box Hero"
And then as you near death, "Tiny Dancer."
Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but dies in the process.
+3
Clint EastwoodMy baby's in there someplaceShe crawled right inRegistered Userregular
Head in the direction of the tire treaded sign for any indication of life or water, all while singing "Danger Zone" in your head.
When that gets boring, try doing "Juke Box Hero"
And then as you near death, "Tiny Dancer."
I'm assuming you meant the sign by the road that has peel out marks on it. As such let's continue.
You floor it. Sand kicks up everywhere as the buggy's wheels kick up the collected detritus and, after a moment longer, you lurch free with a sudden burst, snapping your head back violently against the seat. The buggy is squirrelly and takes some getting used to, but seems to be running okay for the moment. You wrench the wheel around and head back to where you started, all the while monitoring the belches and hiccups spewing from the motor. You assume it's either the vodka or the sand, or both.
It only takes you a couple minutes to get back to the intersection where you woke up; the buggy can't manage to get going much faster then 40, which suits you just fine. The buggy's dash has an old radio, which you fiddle with to no effect. There is no signal. You take the eastern fork in the radio, towards whatever E W. NEST – 3 is.
Despite its current state of disuse, the road is smooth. You feel calm for the first time since regaining consciousness. The road markers are all gone, and your buggy's mileage meter does not work. You lose track of things for a moment, unable to focus on anything other than your increasingly dry mouth.
After a long straightaway, the road curves gradually to the left, and the buggy starts to rumble violently. The engine backfires once, twice, and dies entirely. You coast to the side of the road, then stop. You have run out of fuel again. You are sad there is no 40 to pour out for your dune buggies that did not make it. You pocket the keys as you step out of the vehicle and survey your surroundings.
You are uphill from a small building. There are four more buggies parked outside. A sign on the roof reads WASP'S NEST. You can only see one door in, and it lolls wide open. Smoke lazily billows from a hole in the southern wall. You crouch down instinctively, wishing you had binoculars or a pirate spyglass.
You feel moderately hungry and EXTREMELY thirsty. Your buzz has faded. You feel overheated. The time is 12:45 PM.
Circle your hands around your eyes and use your hand binoculars to spy on the compound
+9
Munkus BeaverYou don't have to attend every argument you are invited to.Philosophy: Stoicism. Politics: Democratic SocialistRegistered User, ClubPAregular
Shout out "Is anybody in there still breathing? I got a gun and don't want no trouble."
Then take a swig from the water bottle. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
P.S. You totally didn't sing Danger Zone in your head during the car trip. Do so now.
Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but dies in the process.
+1
Blake TDo you have enemies then?Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.Registered Userregular
Circle your hands around your eyes and use your hand binoculars to spy on the compound
You lie flat on your stomach, hoping to remain undetectable, just in case, and block out everything, surrounding your eyes with your hands. You feel extremely stupid, but try to get a closer look regardless.
The sign on the roof that reads Wasp's Nest is spray painted onto what seems to be a salvaged piece of sheet metal. The "handwriting" is the same as that on the street sign that led you this way. Was somebody trying to lead you here?
The building itself is ramshackle and falling apart; junk and empty bottles litter the ground outside the premises. A rusted-over chain link fence surrounds the north and east walls of the building. You suspect it is (or was) a bar.
The dune buggies outside appear to be the same kind as the one you had found. They all seem to be in working order, or at least you assume so, given that they are relatively clean and haphazardly parked in a sloppy line. Also, they aren't half-buried in sand.
You think you hear muffled sounds from inside. Voices? Music? Animals? Hard to say. Could just be machinery breaking down...
You wipe your brow, just below the rim of your hat. You feel like you're being roasted. There's no way to be sure the bar is safe, but staying outside much longer without hydration could be dangerous. The clouds you were so thankful for earlier are gone, and only the harsh, unsparing sun is here to keep you company.
You feel moderately hungry and EXTREMELY thirsty. You feel overheated. The time is 12:47 PM.
Drink from the bottle as you mosey your way up to the bar, then walk in like you own the place. Confidence and Swagger.
Fortune favors the bold, especially when they're stranded in a huge fuckoff desert. You take the half-empty water bottle from your knapsack, unscrew the lid, and gulp it down like a salty sailor.
To your relief, it's water this time. You swig half of its contents in two big slurps, leaving it 3/4 empty. Your cracked lips feel soothed, and you no longer feel like a fried egg. You feel as if you are able to think more clearly. Pulling yourself up from your prone position, you sidle downhill towards the bar, one hand on your revolver, pointed toward the sky.
As you approach the door, you can hear the mysterious sound a bit more clearly: music. You don't recognize the song, but it is instantly soothing, perhaps due to its complete absence of words, or maybe because it's the first nonmotor sound you've heard in hours.
Deciding to dispense with caution, you stride inside and look around. You see three people, two men and a woman. They are clad in the same garb as you: white tshirts, thick jeans, red bandanas. They are grimy, and if you had to guess, you'd say they'd been here in the desert a bit longer than you. They are all asleep, prone on two filthy couches and on a pile of thick straw on the floor. They do not stir as you enter the building.
The first man has a full, bushy gray beard; his bandana partially covers a thick mane of hair. His skin is leathery and tanned; if you had to describe him in a word, you'd probably go with grizzled. He is on a couch; you can see him loosely gripping a revolver, just like yours. Unlike yours, you can see he has six shots to work with.
The woman is on the other sofa, sleeping on her stomach. Her bandana is tied tightly around the elbow you can see, dangling lifelessly over the edge of her throne. Her jet black hair is tousled and pulled into a loose knot. She is snoring loudly. She, too, has a revolver; it lies on the floor, near her hand.
The other man is prone in the heap of straw. He is railthin and pale, with closely cropped hair the color of his bedding. He shivers uncontrollably. If he has a weapon, you can't see it.
You turn your attention to the building itself. It seems to have power, although you don't hear the rumble of a generator anywhere. A neon sign glows behind the bar, with the same Beer lettering from your hat. A solitary draft pull sits in front of a mirror, and a fridge hums idly, presumably laden with delicious adult beverages.
The bartop is littered with cigarette butts and a few empty bottles of Beer brand beer. A few barstools remain intact; you see a few thrashed ones lying around in various corners and on top of a ruined pool table, presumably having been used as bludgeons.
The main room has a narrow hallway that leads into darkness and probably a bathroom or two. You hear a repetitive thumping sound coming from the hallway; after a moment, it stops and you hear something move.
Slam the door behind you -- not so hard as to appear hostile, just loud enough to wake everybody else up.
As soon as they awaken, say "I'm looking for Alexander. I found his car, and I'm worried something might have happened to him."
You tentatively move to jostle the door (and the three occupants of the bar), but as your free hand grasps the knob, you hear another door slam open, down the hallway. Another man appears, burly and surly, seemingly the twin of the bearded fellow on the couch, with a wild mustache in place of the hobo beard. He is pointing a gun at you, and gestures quietly outside. You turn and walk out the door, heart racing.
The man follows you out shortly, gingerly closing the door behind him. You can't help but notice his hand, wrapped up tightly with strips of cloth, stained with rusty blood and whiskey. He winced a bit as he turns to you, still keeping you at gunpoint.
"You better have... a REALLY good reason for sneaking into my home like that. Who the hell d'ya think you are?"
You speak slowly, wary of being, you know, shot. "I found a dune buggy like these other ones, out by the mountain. I was driving around looking for whoever owns it. Are you Alexander?" You pull the keys out of your pocket and lightly jingle them around.
The man laughs once, sharp and mirthless, and, without looking at the keys, mutters, "Of fucking course."
He lowers his gun and looks you in the eyes. "No, I'm not that motherfucker. He took off a about a week ago, stuck Roger...stuck me too, I guess. Well, in any case, ya helped us out. Nice of ya t' save us the trouble of bringing it back, too. So, uhh....thanks. Name's Klaus. What're ya out here for, anyway? You, ehh, Know What You Did?"
You shake your head.
"Well, no point staying out here and talking it out. We can sit at the bar and talk if ya can keep quiet. Everybody's hung over...or dying, in Roger's case."
You nod, easing off your weapon and tucking it into your pants again as you go back inside.
You sit down on one of the empty stools as Klaus goes behind the bar and gets two beers and a jug of what you hope is water out, setting them down quietly before you. He opens all three, taking a big pull from his beer. You do the same, and you sit quietly for a minute, savoring the chance to just sit and think idly.
After another drink, he looks at you with an unflinching gaze and grunts, "I'm assuming there's some questions? Here's your chance."
You stare at the bar for a moment, then ask him, "Does anyone here know what they did? I woke up and couldn't remember anything about myself."
Klaus grins. "No idea. ...Well, we figured out the deal with Alexander pretty fast, but otherwise, nope. We aren't exactly scientists in case y' couldn't tell, but best we could figure, some kind of drug or blunt trauma to the head causes memory loss, and then we get dumped out here."
You nod and have some Beer.
He continues, "Now Alexander, he was a real sharp one...a doctor or something. He had a needle in his bag when we picked him up...stuck poor Roger with it last week. Whatever was inside there has him looking..." His voice trails off as he gestures over at the sickly man.
Klaus polishes off his beer, then pours two waters, sliding one your way. You drink it greedily.
He watches you amiably, then , "Now, goin' off the look of your clothes, y' haven't been out here long. I'll level with ya, there's some bad stuff out here in the desert, and trust's earned. I 'preciate ya bringin back his buggy, but I need more. Y' said it was near the mountain? Go find that motherfucker, and bring him back here. I don't much care'f he's dead or alive. Y'can take Roger's buggy, it's gotta full tank anyway and I doubt he'll be using it much. It's got a beacon on it too, if y'get lost.. Or try to run off. If you can bring Alexander back, there'll be a bed for ya in the Nest any time y'want. Hell, I'll send y'some water and let ya use my workshop. And if you're not interested, we'll let y'go in peace. Sound like a deal?"
You are hungry. You are well hydrated. The time is 1:08 PM.
Tommy2Handswhat is this where am iRegistered Userregular
fill up your water canteen with beer before noding sagely and heading out to the buggy presumably owned by Rodger
0
Munkus BeaverYou don't have to attend every argument you are invited to.Philosophy: Stoicism. Politics: Democratic SocialistRegistered User, ClubPAregular
Ask them why the hell this is called the Wasps Nest
Humor can be dissected as a frog can, but dies in the process.
0
Clint EastwoodMy baby's in there someplaceShe crawled right inRegistered Userregular
Ask, "Do you have any food here? I don't mind going off hunting for this Alexander fellow, but it ain't a good idea to do so on an empty stomach."
You take a moment to consider Klaus's offer as you finish your beverages.
"I'll do it, but I might need some supplies...Do you have any food?"
Without a word, Klaus scoots down the bar line and disappears out of sight. He reemerges and tosses you 3 packages of BAR SNACKS. "Take these with ya. Not good for ya but they'll do in a pinch. Hold on a minute." He goes down the hallway, leaving you alone with the rest of his crew.
Roger has woken up, and seems to be staring at you through barely opened eyes. He whispers, "who...are...you..." then rolls over, shivering violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. You're no doctor, but you don't think he's going to get better without medical attention.
You cast an eye at the other two. Klaus's brother and the woman still have not stirred. You wonder how they have been procuring alcohol. Was it still here, or did they find it somewhere else?
Klaus returns a few minutes thereafter, and hands you 2 hefty pieces of JERKY, proudly saying, "Made this myself. Heh...some big lizard bastard that I found in here when we moved in. Tastes like shit, but it's filling. Try some."
You snap into it. He's right: it tastes like shit. You gobble it down and feel much better. As you eat, Klaus fills your CANTEEN and BOTTLE with water and tequila, respectively. Everything you could possibly need!
You pack the food and drink into your knapsack, then prepare to head out. Klaus stops you just before the door.
"Hey, just a thought, may not have occured to ya...It's hottest out there in midday, and it gets real cold at night. If y'leave now you'll be in the dead heat, so ya could always rest up a bit, wait it out and leave later...but then y'run the risk of getting stuck out there in the cold sleepin' in yer car. Either way, do whatever y'want. Just food for thought." He tosses you some BUGGY KEYS, helpfully labelled ROGER, then heads back to the room he initially emerged from. You exchange them with ALEXANDER'S KEYS, then consider your next move.
The time is 1:20.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
Full Canteen (Water)
Full Bottle (Tequila)
Jerky (1)
Bar Snacks (3)
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ROGER)
0
Blake TDo you have enemies then?Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.Registered Userregular
(Alexander might be a feisty one, and it could take more than two rounds to kneecap the fucker)
(doing both, because they each got one agree. sure)
Deciding to poke around for supplies just a little longer, you sidle behind the bar and look around for any spare rounds. You figure, everybody else's gun is fully loaded. Why not mine?
Unfortunately, you don't find anything to shoot people with, just things to shoot. Shrugging, you lift a nearly empty bottle of WHISKEY up to the bartop. Unscrewing the lid, you go bottoms up and take a swig. It warms your throat; you cough twice, then start searching again.
There are a few other bottles behind the bar: GIN (half full), TEQUILA (quarter full), and VERMOUTH (untouched). You make note of them. A few drawers reveal a WINE KEY, which you take for fun, and a PARING KNIFE, which you also take. You do not find any BULLETS.
You can hear Klaus clattering away at something in the workshop. The rest of the Wasps are still out of commission. You look at your watch and mull over what Klaus had said. You don't relish the idea of being caught in the cold and sleeping in a car overnight, but a quick rest now while it's hottest does sound nice. How can you even be sure Alexander is at the mountain, anyway? Just because his buggy was there doesn't mean he is. You eye the bottle of WHISKEY again. There's about a shot's worth, maybe two, left in it...
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
Paring Knife
Wine Key
Full Canteen (Water)
Full Bottle (Tequila)
Jerky (1)
Bar Snacks (3)
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ROGER)
See if there is anything we can do to help Roger, we may not remember much about why we're here, but perhaps we have some kind of medical training?
You walk over to the quivering heap on the floor, squatting down close. He eyes you warily, but says nothing.
In your best attempt at a soothing voice, you whisper, "Can you show me where Alexander stuck you, Roger? ...That came out the wrong way, Roger. Sorry."
He rolls over and bows his head a bit, exposing the back of his neck. It is heavily inflamed, with crusted-over pus scabbed up over the site of the injection. You silently retch a bit.
"Do you feel hot, or cold? Nauseous? Uh...lightheaded?"
Roger shakes his head a bit and weakly replies, "not nauseous....any more.....can't keep food down. thought I...was sweating it out...just hot. hard to. hard to breathe." His head slumps back down and he closes his eyes.
"I'm going to find Alexander and figure out how to help you, okay? I'll be back."
You stand up again, letting Roger go back to sleep. The time is 1:30 PM.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
Paring Knife
Wine Key
Full Canteen (Water)
Full Bottle (Tequila)
Jerky (1)
Bar Snacks (3)
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ROGER)
It's too hot out, we don't want to exhaust our water supply too quickly trying to track this guy down.
Take a nap for a few hours, we can head out around 6 or so, once it cools down a bit.
Posts
Satans..... hints.....
You get out of the buggy and pry open the tank. You could almost swear you heard once that a car could run on alcohol briefly; maybe a dune buggy could too. You wince a little as you pour the entire contents of your vodka canteen into the open tank. It isn't much, barely even a liter, but maybe it'll be enough.
You are rewarded for your noble sacrifice after turning the key again. The buggy sputters to life, rumbling violently and making a painful grinding noise. You pump your fist excitedly and begin to think about where you should drive.
You feel moderately hungry and heavily thirsty. You feel buzzed. The time is 12:28 PM.
When that gets boring, try doing "Juke Box Hero"
And then as you near death, "Tiny Dancer."
You floor it. Sand kicks up everywhere as the buggy's wheels kick up the collected detritus and, after a moment longer, you lurch free with a sudden burst, snapping your head back violently against the seat. The buggy is squirrelly and takes some getting used to, but seems to be running okay for the moment. You wrench the wheel around and head back to where you started, all the while monitoring the belches and hiccups spewing from the motor. You assume it's either the vodka or the sand, or both.
It only takes you a couple minutes to get back to the intersection where you woke up; the buggy can't manage to get going much faster then 40, which suits you just fine. The buggy's dash has an old radio, which you fiddle with to no effect. There is no signal. You take the eastern fork in the radio, towards whatever E W. NEST – 3 is.
Despite its current state of disuse, the road is smooth. You feel calm for the first time since regaining consciousness. The road markers are all gone, and your buggy's mileage meter does not work. You lose track of things for a moment, unable to focus on anything other than your increasingly dry mouth.
After a long straightaway, the road curves gradually to the left, and the buggy starts to rumble violently. The engine backfires once, twice, and dies entirely. You coast to the side of the road, then stop. You have run out of fuel again. You are sad there is no 40 to pour out for your dune buggies that did not make it. You pocket the keys as you step out of the vehicle and survey your surroundings.
You are uphill from a small building. There are four more buggies parked outside. A sign on the roof reads WASP'S NEST. You can only see one door in, and it lolls wide open. Smoke lazily billows from a hole in the southern wall. You crouch down instinctively, wishing you had binoculars or a pirate spyglass.
You feel moderately hungry and EXTREMELY thirsty. Your buzz has faded. You feel overheated. The time is 12:45 PM.
---
Inventory
if so then Drink Water and Cautiously Approach Building
Steam Switch FC: 2799-7909-4852
No.
All I can say: moisture is the essence of wetness. And wetness is the essence of beauty.
Then take a swig from the water bottle. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
P.S. You totally didn't sing Danger Zone in your head during the car trip. Do so now.
Also drink the water.
Satans..... hints.....
And then silently pray that there are no heavily armed grammar teachers who would pick up on that double negative and come out guns blazing.
You lie flat on your stomach, hoping to remain undetectable, just in case, and block out everything, surrounding your eyes with your hands. You feel extremely stupid, but try to get a closer look regardless.
The sign on the roof that reads Wasp's Nest is spray painted onto what seems to be a salvaged piece of sheet metal. The "handwriting" is the same as that on the street sign that led you this way. Was somebody trying to lead you here?
The building itself is ramshackle and falling apart; junk and empty bottles litter the ground outside the premises. A rusted-over chain link fence surrounds the north and east walls of the building. You suspect it is (or was) a bar.
The dune buggies outside appear to be the same kind as the one you had found. They all seem to be in working order, or at least you assume so, given that they are relatively clean and haphazardly parked in a sloppy line. Also, they aren't half-buried in sand.
You think you hear muffled sounds from inside. Voices? Music? Animals? Hard to say. Could just be machinery breaking down...
You wipe your brow, just below the rim of your hat. You feel like you're being roasted. There's no way to be sure the bar is safe, but staying outside much longer without hydration could be dangerous. The clouds you were so thankful for earlier are gone, and only the harsh, unsparing sun is here to keep you company.
You feel moderately hungry and EXTREMELY thirsty. You feel overheated. The time is 12:47 PM.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
1/2 Water Bottle
Empty Canteen
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ALEXANDER)
Switch Friend Code: SW-1406-1275-7906
Fortune favors the bold, especially when they're stranded in a huge fuckoff desert. You take the half-empty water bottle from your knapsack, unscrew the lid, and gulp it down like a salty sailor.
To your relief, it's water this time. You swig half of its contents in two big slurps, leaving it 3/4 empty. Your cracked lips feel soothed, and you no longer feel like a fried egg. You feel as if you are able to think more clearly. Pulling yourself up from your prone position, you sidle downhill towards the bar, one hand on your revolver, pointed toward the sky.
As you approach the door, you can hear the mysterious sound a bit more clearly: music. You don't recognize the song, but it is instantly soothing, perhaps due to its complete absence of words, or maybe because it's the first nonmotor sound you've heard in hours.
Deciding to dispense with caution, you stride inside and look around. You see three people, two men and a woman. They are clad in the same garb as you: white tshirts, thick jeans, red bandanas. They are grimy, and if you had to guess, you'd say they'd been here in the desert a bit longer than you. They are all asleep, prone on two filthy couches and on a pile of thick straw on the floor. They do not stir as you enter the building.
The first man has a full, bushy gray beard; his bandana partially covers a thick mane of hair. His skin is leathery and tanned; if you had to describe him in a word, you'd probably go with grizzled. He is on a couch; you can see him loosely gripping a revolver, just like yours. Unlike yours, you can see he has six shots to work with.
The woman is on the other sofa, sleeping on her stomach. Her bandana is tied tightly around the elbow you can see, dangling lifelessly over the edge of her throne. Her jet black hair is tousled and pulled into a loose knot. She is snoring loudly. She, too, has a revolver; it lies on the floor, near her hand.
The other man is prone in the heap of straw. He is railthin and pale, with closely cropped hair the color of his bedding. He shivers uncontrollably. If he has a weapon, you can't see it.
You turn your attention to the building itself. It seems to have power, although you don't hear the rumble of a generator anywhere. A neon sign glows behind the bar, with the same Beer lettering from your hat. A solitary draft pull sits in front of a mirror, and a fridge hums idly, presumably laden with delicious adult beverages.
The bartop is littered with cigarette butts and a few empty bottles of Beer brand beer. A few barstools remain intact; you see a few thrashed ones lying around in various corners and on top of a ruined pool table, presumably having been used as bludgeons.
The main room has a narrow hallway that leads into darkness and probably a bathroom or two. You hear a repetitive thumping sound coming from the hallway; after a moment, it stops and you hear something move.
You are hungry. The time is 12:54 PM.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
1/2 Water Bottle
Empty Canteen
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ALEXANDER)
As soon as they awaken, say "I'm looking for Alexander. I found his car, and I'm worried something might have happened to him."
You tentatively move to jostle the door (and the three occupants of the bar), but as your free hand grasps the knob, you hear another door slam open, down the hallway. Another man appears, burly and surly, seemingly the twin of the bearded fellow on the couch, with a wild mustache in place of the hobo beard. He is pointing a gun at you, and gestures quietly outside. You turn and walk out the door, heart racing.
The man follows you out shortly, gingerly closing the door behind him. You can't help but notice his hand, wrapped up tightly with strips of cloth, stained with rusty blood and whiskey. He winced a bit as he turns to you, still keeping you at gunpoint.
"You better have... a REALLY good reason for sneaking into my home like that. Who the hell d'ya think you are?"
You speak slowly, wary of being, you know, shot. "I found a dune buggy like these other ones, out by the mountain. I was driving around looking for whoever owns it. Are you Alexander?" You pull the keys out of your pocket and lightly jingle them around.
The man laughs once, sharp and mirthless, and, without looking at the keys, mutters, "Of fucking course."
He lowers his gun and looks you in the eyes. "No, I'm not that motherfucker. He took off a about a week ago, stuck Roger...stuck me too, I guess. Well, in any case, ya helped us out. Nice of ya t' save us the trouble of bringing it back, too. So, uhh....thanks. Name's Klaus. What're ya out here for, anyway? You, ehh, Know What You Did?"
You shake your head.
"Well, no point staying out here and talking it out. We can sit at the bar and talk if ya can keep quiet. Everybody's hung over...or dying, in Roger's case."
You nod, easing off your weapon and tucking it into your pants again as you go back inside.
You sit down on one of the empty stools as Klaus goes behind the bar and gets two beers and a jug of what you hope is water out, setting them down quietly before you. He opens all three, taking a big pull from his beer. You do the same, and you sit quietly for a minute, savoring the chance to just sit and think idly.
After another drink, he looks at you with an unflinching gaze and grunts, "I'm assuming there's some questions? Here's your chance."
You are hungry. The time is 1:01 PM.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
1/2 Water Bottle
Empty Canteen
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ALEXANDER)
"Is Klaus your family name? IS YOUR BROTHER SANTA?!?"
How dare you reveal the secret of my thread.
You stare at the bar for a moment, then ask him, "Does anyone here know what they did? I woke up and couldn't remember anything about myself."
Klaus grins. "No idea. ...Well, we figured out the deal with Alexander pretty fast, but otherwise, nope. We aren't exactly scientists in case y' couldn't tell, but best we could figure, some kind of drug or blunt trauma to the head causes memory loss, and then we get dumped out here."
You nod and have some Beer.
He continues, "Now Alexander, he was a real sharp one...a doctor or something. He had a needle in his bag when we picked him up...stuck poor Roger with it last week. Whatever was inside there has him looking..." His voice trails off as he gestures over at the sickly man.
Klaus polishes off his beer, then pours two waters, sliding one your way. You drink it greedily.
He watches you amiably, then , "Now, goin' off the look of your clothes, y' haven't been out here long. I'll level with ya, there's some bad stuff out here in the desert, and trust's earned. I 'preciate ya bringin back his buggy, but I need more. Y' said it was near the mountain? Go find that motherfucker, and bring him back here. I don't much care'f he's dead or alive. Y'can take Roger's buggy, it's gotta full tank anyway and I doubt he'll be using it much. It's got a beacon on it too, if y'get lost.. Or try to run off. If you can bring Alexander back, there'll be a bed for ya in the Nest any time y'want. Hell, I'll send y'some water and let ya use my workshop. And if you're not interested, we'll let y'go in peace. Sound like a deal?"
You are hungry. You are well hydrated. The time is 1:08 PM.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
1/4 Water Bottle
Empty Canteen
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ALEXANDER)
You take a moment to consider Klaus's offer as you finish your beverages.
"I'll do it, but I might need some supplies...Do you have any food?"
Without a word, Klaus scoots down the bar line and disappears out of sight. He reemerges and tosses you 3 packages of BAR SNACKS. "Take these with ya. Not good for ya but they'll do in a pinch. Hold on a minute." He goes down the hallway, leaving you alone with the rest of his crew.
Roger has woken up, and seems to be staring at you through barely opened eyes. He whispers, "who...are...you..." then rolls over, shivering violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. You're no doctor, but you don't think he's going to get better without medical attention.
You cast an eye at the other two. Klaus's brother and the woman still have not stirred. You wonder how they have been procuring alcohol. Was it still here, or did they find it somewhere else?
Klaus returns a few minutes thereafter, and hands you 2 hefty pieces of JERKY, proudly saying, "Made this myself. Heh...some big lizard bastard that I found in here when we moved in. Tastes like shit, but it's filling. Try some."
You snap into it. He's right: it tastes like shit. You gobble it down and feel much better. As you eat, Klaus fills your CANTEEN and BOTTLE with water and tequila, respectively. Everything you could possibly need!
You pack the food and drink into your knapsack, then prepare to head out. Klaus stops you just before the door.
"Hey, just a thought, may not have occured to ya...It's hottest out there in midday, and it gets real cold at night. If y'leave now you'll be in the dead heat, so ya could always rest up a bit, wait it out and leave later...but then y'run the risk of getting stuck out there in the cold sleepin' in yer car. Either way, do whatever y'want. Just food for thought." He tosses you some BUGGY KEYS, helpfully labelled ROGER, then heads back to the room he initially emerged from. You exchange them with ALEXANDER'S KEYS, then consider your next move.
The time is 1:20.
---
Inventory
Satans..... hints.....
(Alexander might be a feisty one, and it could take more than two rounds to kneecap the fucker)
A t shirt, jeans, a Beer hat, and a bandana.
(doing both, because they each got one agree. sure)
Deciding to poke around for supplies just a little longer, you sidle behind the bar and look around for any spare rounds. You figure, everybody else's gun is fully loaded. Why not mine?
Unfortunately, you don't find anything to shoot people with, just things to shoot. Shrugging, you lift a nearly empty bottle of WHISKEY up to the bartop. Unscrewing the lid, you go bottoms up and take a swig. It warms your throat; you cough twice, then start searching again.
There are a few other bottles behind the bar: GIN (half full), TEQUILA (quarter full), and VERMOUTH (untouched). You make note of them. A few drawers reveal a WINE KEY, which you take for fun, and a PARING KNIFE, which you also take. You do not find any BULLETS.
You can hear Klaus clattering away at something in the workshop. The rest of the Wasps are still out of commission. You look at your watch and mull over what Klaus had said. You don't relish the idea of being caught in the cold and sleeping in a car overnight, but a quick rest now while it's hottest does sound nice. How can you even be sure Alexander is at the mountain, anyway? Just because his buggy was there doesn't mean he is. You eye the bottle of WHISKEY again. There's about a shot's worth, maybe two, left in it...
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
Paring Knife
Wine Key
Full Canteen (Water)
Full Bottle (Tequila)
Jerky (1)
Bar Snacks (3)
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ROGER)
Steam Switch FC: 2799-7909-4852
You walk over to the quivering heap on the floor, squatting down close. He eyes you warily, but says nothing.
In your best attempt at a soothing voice, you whisper, "Can you show me where Alexander stuck you, Roger? ...That came out the wrong way, Roger. Sorry."
He rolls over and bows his head a bit, exposing the back of his neck. It is heavily inflamed, with crusted-over pus scabbed up over the site of the injection. You silently retch a bit.
"Do you feel hot, or cold? Nauseous? Uh...lightheaded?"
Roger shakes his head a bit and weakly replies, "not nauseous....any more.....can't keep food down. thought I...was sweating it out...just hot. hard to. hard to breathe." His head slumps back down and he closes his eyes.
"I'm going to find Alexander and figure out how to help you, okay? I'll be back."
You stand up again, letting Roger go back to sleep. The time is 1:30 PM.
---
Inventory
Revolver (2 Bullets)
Paring Knife
Wine Key
Full Canteen (Water)
Full Bottle (Tequila)
Jerky (1)
Bar Snacks (3)
Compass
Watch
Buggy Keys (ROGER)
Let's peel out of the bar.
but they're listening to every word I say
Take a nap for a few hours, we can head out around 6 or so, once it cools down a bit.