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The Spine, 100 Kilometers Outside of The City of Bones
Zonju V
Zonju V
Of all the places one does not want to end up on Zonju V, The Spine was among the worst. While nowhere near as fatal as the heavily irradiated wasteland known as The Desolation, nor necessarily as unforgiving as the empty desert, this massive mountain range stretched for thousands of miles across the barren surface of the harsh planet. Few choose to traverse its bandit-infested ridges and windswept crags, instead choosing to brave the darkness of the tunnels that stretch beneath its peaks in a hint of general safety. The caves, cliffs, and sparsely-vegetated valleys also served as the roosts and hunting grounds for many of Zonju V's various fauna, giving it one redeeming quality; it made for excellent hunting if you had the gall to brave it.
It had been three days since Vash had departed from his shanty on the outskirts of The City of Bones to go hunting in the valleys of The Spine on the antiquated track-bike he'd rented for the hunt. It'd cost him 50 Credits per day, 200 in all; over three-quarters of his savings. This hunt needed to go well, or else he'd have come out here and risked his life in the wastes for nothing.
The first day had simply been the hard ride out, the solar-powered, jury-rigged track-bike barely holding together as Vash pushed its capacitors to the limit trying to beat the light and avoid notice from the roving gangs that patrolled The Spine's ridges. He had been lucky, never encountering any of the raiders on the trip out and managing to steer clear of any No-man savages. However, seemingly having spent his reserves of luck during the ride, the second and now third days had passed with no result save for dusty trails long since blown away and the occasional cries of Gormong who made their nests in the cliffs above Vash's perch.
Vash spat in the dirt to his right, his face obscured by a leather slit-visor that helped block out the glare of the sun, and his bare face covered by a loose wrap to keep his skin from burning. Laying flat on his chest in a prone position, the body of his modified 6-2Aug2 Slugthrower Rifle propped against a makeshift bipod made by his bedroll with the barrel pointing down into one of the sparsely-vegetated valleys of The Spine, Vash's loose clothing flitted slightly in the wind that swept through the crags. His cargo trousers were tucked into his combat boots to keep them from moving too much, preventing them from producing enough noise to alert the nonexistent prey that Vash hoped would eventually come into the valley, while a loose-fitting, olive-drab shirt protected his torso from the gritty breeze of Zonju's desert wind. Despite the wind, the dog-tags Vash wore were pinned to the dirt underneath him, preventing them from clinking in the wind.
SCREEE!
Vash glanced up, hardly moving more than an inch as the piercing cry of a Gormong reached his ears. Although the carrion-beast was out of sight, Vash was half tempted to brave it and take the shot if it came into view; at least he'd have something more than his dwindling reserves of protein-block rations to eat, even though the meat of the vultures was hardly a worthy substitute for the greasy, foul-tasting ration blocks he'd packed before departing the City of Bones.
Vash considered trying to pick off one of the high flying creatures a minute longer, before sighing quietly to himself and shifting into a slightly more comfortable position to allow sensation to return to his resting arm that had fallen asleep. Looking back down to the valley, Vash smirked to himself wryly; not only would the rounds used to bring down the vulture be worth more than its hide, he'd likely miss to begin with given the aerial acrobatics of the creatures and simply have to buy more ammo. Top that off with the fact that the various gun runners in the city charged a premium for their goods, and Vash might as well be shooting rocks.
Vash's thoughts were broken by the audible 'hrumph hrumph' of a Nerf echoing on the wind. In an instant, the young man's eys darted to the valley, where sparse grass grew in small, rugged tufts to find the source of the sound. It was why he'd chosen this spot to stake out; there was little else in The Spine besides the predators above and below the surface that could be eaten, and Nerf meat and hide was a premium.
Hrumph, hrumph, hrumph! Hrrrrr...hrumph, hrumph, hrumph.
"Gotcha," thought Vash as the herd came into view; it wasn't more than five of the beasts. From his vantage, Vash saw four females and a calf, each malnourished. Their slightly woolly hides blew in the harsh desert wind, and as the small group of beasts closed the distance with the rough patches of grass they needed to survive, Vash's pulse began to pound as the excitement of the hunt came over him. Slowly, his barrel moved to intercept the path of the middle-most female, her form somewhat emaciated but also healthy enough to provide some decent meat. The calf was the first to reach the hardy grasses, and as the rest of the herd slowed, the largest of the females stopped, standing tall to watch for predators as the rest of the herd began to graze.
Vash licked his dry, cracking lips as he gauged the wind, adjusting his aim slightly to accommodate for its speed. He only had one shot given the bolt action of his rifle. By the time he could chamber a second shot, the herd would have bolted and he'd be left in the same situation he had been before the herd stumbled into the valley.
"Easy now," Vash thought, "Slow breaths. Fire at the bottom of the exhale. Pull the trigger, not squeeze. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast." The small little monikers of the various hunters and gangsters who'd taught him to shoot began to flow through Vash's mind, calming his heartbeat as his breathing began to slow. The cross-hair of his scope led the female he'd chosen by millimeters, beginning ahead of her and waiting for the nerf to stroll into his round's path.
"One more step...," thought Vash as the beast stepped forward just barely behind his target point. His finger tightened on the trigger as the Nerf's knee lifted for its final step, even as his breath stopped and held, steadying the sway of his aim.
CRACK-AH-CRACK-AH-CRACK-AH-CRACK-AH-CRACK-AH!
"Fethin' hell!" Vash cursed as the sound of an anti-air battery erupted in the silence of The Spine, causing him to jump and in the process pull the trigger of his Aug-2, the crack of its retort answered by the zip and puff of dust where his round went low and disappeared in the sand of the valley floor as the nerf herd bolted. A moment later, the sound of a small explosion resounded through the valley, and Vash scurried back, stripping his slit-visor from his face to get a better view of the sky as a plume of dark black smoke streaked overhead.
Squinting, Vash could just barely make out the form of some sort of shuttle, obviously the source of the smoke trail as it drifted lower. Even as he watched, the shuttle emitted another loud boom as its main propulsion gave out on the port side, and the ship veered a hard left before disappearing behind the far ridge.
Vash didn't wait for the WUMPH of the shuttle hitting the sand before he'd begun gathering his blind and sprinting back to his track-bike. Quickly, he strapped down his gear onto the small all-terrain vehicle, shouldering his rifle and leaping into the seat as soon as he was ready without packing up his tent. There was no time to lose; there was no way he was going back to Sathad'Ra empty-handed, and with his hunt ruined and any game-animal within kilometers in any direction now on the run, his best bet was to reach that wreck, strip it, and be gone before the roving bandits and No-mans in the area could get to it. There might be survivors; Vash checked his boot to make sure that his combat knife was secure, before starting the engine of the track-bike. The exhaust coughed dark, acrid smoke from its combustion engine, and before he shifted into gear, Vash patted his hip to make sure he hadn't lost his hold-out blaster in the sprint.
Satisfied that he was ready, Vash replaced his slit-visor, tying it behind his head before grasping the handlebars of the track bike and gunning the throttle, his efforts answered in tow by the roar of the engine and dirt spraying behind the tracks as the small vehicle jolted to life. As he began to descend the dune, his brown locks whipping behind him as the rags he had wrapped around his face danced in the breeze, Vash scowled and leaned into the bike to help improve the aerodynamics as the overpowered, ramshackle vehicle careened through the sand, a large dust cloud marking his track back to his small camp.
"Well, this day's gone to druk," thought Vash as he roared his way over the rough grass where the Nerf had been grazing only minutes before, the tracks of his bike ripping the scant, hardy tufts from the barren sand and tossing them into the air behind him. Vash hit a small dune, the bike going completely airborne for a moment before slamming back into the sand as he rocketed towards the pillar of smoke that marked the location of the wreck, beckoning to the various marauders that called The Spine home.
"Let's hope it don't get worse."