09-27-2019, 03:46 AM
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Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Worn, heavy combat boots compressed against dirt and grass in every step as the man neared the seaside city. Miscellaneous supplies clanked around in his pack, in which the straps were secured over leather-clad shoulders. That's right, a leather jacket. It was, what — 75 degrees outside? This guy was obviously a cool cat, and it seemed that all he was missing was some shades, greased back hair, and a cigarette to complete the look. Actually, he didn't smoke. He tried it once in his youth; ended up nearly hacking and coughing his lungs out. Nah, he simply did other things to appear favorable in front of his peers... like chugging a flask of Fireball in five seconds flat.
Anyways, this vagabond's name was Jaeger. He made like a tumbleweed and just went where the wind took him. Life was too short to stay put in one place. What would he even be waiting for, anyways? Death? That didn't sound very appealing to the young man. Now that the world governments were in shambles and everybody possessed an "every-man-for-himself" type of mentality, Jaeger figured that it was time to take the reigns for himself. No more rules, no more societal expectations. It was just him, a lone soul traveling from place-to-place in search of the next drop of liquor ( and perhaps a beautiful woman to keep him company ).
Of course, Jaeger wasn't crazy. He knew better than to venture out on his own without some form of protection, and that was precisely why he had a gun holster on his belt. Tucked into it was a pistol, although it had no ammo left. He had run out awhile ago while hunting for bucks, and unfortunately for him, it hadn't gone exactly to plan. Now Jaeger relied on his trusty hunting knife to defend himself. Either that, or it was his own fists. He had plenty to be cautious of when exploring unknown territory — he knew that a group of people lived around these parts, as told to him by a passerby, but he was unsure of exactly where. Oh well, he supposed he'd run into them sooner or later.
"I hear the train a comin', it's rollin' 'round the bend. And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when," Jaeger hummed the nearly century-old "Folsom Prison Blues"; it may have been older than shit, but man, it was good. "I'm stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin' on," That was the only regret of leaving home — there was nothing to play his music on. He had to rely on his memory, and if he was lucky, he would stay somewhere with intact solar panels. Speaking of which, it appeared that some of the buildings in this town had such panels installed on their roofs. Maybe he could find a radio or CD-player somewhere; shit, that would make his whole damn week. Jay had gone far too long without hearing a tune.
The blonde began his trek into the old town, and blue eyes scanned the buildings for something interesting. "But that train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone." Jaeger ceased his singing as a certain shop caught his attention. Without thinking, he simply strolled into the small building, and it appeared to be a bar of sorts. It wasn't like he had actually gotten the chance to go into any bars as a younger adult; the world had gone to shit by then. "Hellooo? Anybody home?" He glanced around once more, assessing his surroundings before proceeding further.
What do you know, he had hit the jackpot. An array of bottles awaited him behind the counter. Many were nearly empty, and some looked more ancient than his grandfathers, but it was something. "Well well, look what we've got here," He mused to himself as he took a bottle into his hands. A smile cracked at the edges of his lips, his tongue nearly quivering for a taste. He was getting mighty tired of drinking dusty, dirty water.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Worn, heavy combat boots compressed against dirt and grass in every step as the man neared the seaside city. Miscellaneous supplies clanked around in his pack, in which the straps were secured over leather-clad shoulders. That's right, a leather jacket. It was, what — 75 degrees outside? This guy was obviously a cool cat, and it seemed that all he was missing was some shades, greased back hair, and a cigarette to complete the look. Actually, he didn't smoke. He tried it once in his youth; ended up nearly hacking and coughing his lungs out. Nah, he simply did other things to appear favorable in front of his peers... like chugging a flask of Fireball in five seconds flat.
Anyways, this vagabond's name was Jaeger. He made like a tumbleweed and just went where the wind took him. Life was too short to stay put in one place. What would he even be waiting for, anyways? Death? That didn't sound very appealing to the young man. Now that the world governments were in shambles and everybody possessed an "every-man-for-himself" type of mentality, Jaeger figured that it was time to take the reigns for himself. No more rules, no more societal expectations. It was just him, a lone soul traveling from place-to-place in search of the next drop of liquor ( and perhaps a beautiful woman to keep him company ).
Of course, Jaeger wasn't crazy. He knew better than to venture out on his own without some form of protection, and that was precisely why he had a gun holster on his belt. Tucked into it was a pistol, although it had no ammo left. He had run out awhile ago while hunting for bucks, and unfortunately for him, it hadn't gone exactly to plan. Now Jaeger relied on his trusty hunting knife to defend himself. Either that, or it was his own fists. He had plenty to be cautious of when exploring unknown territory — he knew that a group of people lived around these parts, as told to him by a passerby, but he was unsure of exactly where. Oh well, he supposed he'd run into them sooner or later.
"I hear the train a comin', it's rollin' 'round the bend. And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when," Jaeger hummed the nearly century-old "Folsom Prison Blues"; it may have been older than shit, but man, it was good. "I'm stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin' on," That was the only regret of leaving home — there was nothing to play his music on. He had to rely on his memory, and if he was lucky, he would stay somewhere with intact solar panels. Speaking of which, it appeared that some of the buildings in this town had such panels installed on their roofs. Maybe he could find a radio or CD-player somewhere; shit, that would make his whole damn week. Jay had gone far too long without hearing a tune.
The blonde began his trek into the old town, and blue eyes scanned the buildings for something interesting. "But that train keeps a-rollin' on down to San Antone." Jaeger ceased his singing as a certain shop caught his attention. Without thinking, he simply strolled into the small building, and it appeared to be a bar of sorts. It wasn't like he had actually gotten the chance to go into any bars as a younger adult; the world had gone to shit by then. "Hellooo? Anybody home?" He glanced around once more, assessing his surroundings before proceeding further.
What do you know, he had hit the jackpot. An array of bottles awaited him behind the counter. Many were nearly empty, and some looked more ancient than his grandfathers, but it was something. "Well well, look what we've got here," He mused to himself as he took a bottle into his hands. A smile cracked at the edges of his lips, his tongue nearly quivering for a taste. He was getting mighty tired of drinking dusty, dirty water.
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PUNCTURED BICYCLE, ON A HILLSIDE DESOLATE
❝ WILL NATURE MAKE A MAN OF ME YET? ❞
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