Johnathan “Trigger” Reily
I’m not sure why i even write a log these days….everything seems to have changed, as always in these times. The cyber-knight, the cyborg, the talking horse….all gone. Hastings is the only one left from the original band of misfits. I’m glad for Drew, sorry to see him go, but i know once you find what it is you’ve been searching for you kinda wanna hold on to it. I just wish i knew what i was looking for…….
Sleep was patchy, the usual nightmares of giant rabbits chasing you with chainsaws, ants smoking pot and eating small children cause they have the munchies, or clowns selling life insurance door to door were not present. Something far worse was there, in my head, striving to get out. clawing its way out of my head through whatever cracks it may have found, god knows they’re there. I awoke again, not wanting to go back to sleep, something foreboding loomed close.
The day prior the group had somewhat disbanded, albeit I stayed with the gear while they went off looking for something to do. I had a good idea where they were headed, but decided to stay, take stock of the gear and see what needed fixing…there’s always something that needs fixing. As the hours ticked on it became apparent that the rest of them wouldn’t be back by nightfall. something that we knew they needed to be. I had some beggars, some traveling salesmen, and yes, a clown selling insurance (for my bike though) all travel close to the “hidden” APC. [note to self: Hastings is never allowed to be in charge of camouflage again] One item in particular stood out. An old world map of the city just over the river. So once again, I mounted the hover-bike and sailed off north, looking for the group.
I found them, just the other side of the river, in a hole the size of a small truck. the inside of which turned out to be a tanker, a very old tanker. They had some gear collected, and were in some sort of quandary about a book…..why? I’m not sure, and I’m pretty sure i didn’t want to know.
Let me reflect on my raiding companions once more so if anyone does actually find this and is somewhat tempted to know what kind of person I was, here it is: A juicer, a crazy, an assassin, and a tree dragon…..sounds like the beginning of a horrible joke. I’m not sure if that’s what anyone else would call them, but that’s what i call them. funny thing is we all met at a bar….but i digress. These are the ones that I’ll discharge my weapon for, although they are also the ones most likely to get me in this kind of trouble anyway.
After successfully finding the team (who had been rather bent on possibly killing each other) i was led down to the hold of the ship, where, i laid eyes on the one thing i thought i would never see. a 200+ year old bulldog robot. to say it was in bad shape would be nice, it was a mess of wires and grease, and would take several hours just to get it mobile, let alone effective in combat. Hasting and the tree dragon then began a friendly game of tag…why? Again, I don’t really want to know. We had to pack up for the night and head back to camp. nightfall on this island, as we’ve been told, is not the place to be. And here we are, back at the foreboding feeling. the group has all headed to the local tent village to get their drink on, while I entertain ideas on how to get that robot up and running. The dragon and I have worked out a plan to survey the island during the daylight as i get the robot back in mobile shape. There seems to be a hospital, some churches, a convention center, an airport, a power station and an art museum on the old map, i wonder if there’s anything useful to be found. If i live to see the next night, i just might jot it down, but who, knows.