Vader91
The Voice of the Lowlands, joined
Just your day to day Strategy and FPS player with a sense of humor and independence. I'm also the in-field Commander of the casual clan JSSG. These days I mostly fiddle around with Warhammer 40K stuff, read up on Lovecraft and Tolkien, and try to build a personal physical archive of enjoyable movies and TV series. I'm making a living of being a radio board operator and station engineer. If you see a "Vadronus Prime" running around, that's my alternate gamer-tag. (Long version of Vader91 really) The Free Voice from Vegas Itself!
"The Drunk" is a short story I wrote some time ago, taking place in the same storyline as "The Return."
Here we have Jenny play Jenny (replacing Gabby, due to recent events)
Kirby plays the part of "The Drunk"
I am the Narrator
And Adam is a mystery, figure it out yerselves XD
Full story will be in the comments
THE DRUNK
It was later that evening. Most were in bed, though Adam was still standing at full power. Jenny came out of her tent and walked over to one of the trucks. On her way out she noticed Adam still up.
“What? Cyborgs don’t need sleep?” she asked.
“I do, just compiling a set of records of our encounter. I doubt that any being like that is alone. Just letting the Alliance know in case they need the information.” He replied factually.
“Who’s the Alliance?” she asked in curiosity.
“Oh yes, the Alliance to Restore the Constitution, or ARC for short. They were a revolutionary group before the Crusade, but thanks to their wartime preparations they survived the Delano System. They still operate today trying to keep people safe from the bots.”
“Ah, I see. Why do you have connections with them? I thought we try to lay low and stay off the radar with other factions.”
“Because a long time ago I was an ARC member, and they still keep in touch to make sure we’re safe.”
“Ah ok.” With that Jenny continued to the truck.
Down the road one could see a Camaro that was held together by no more than gum and string. It was driving at a slower speed, weaving between the lanes though still avoiding the trees. The driver was a rough one. He hadn’t shaved, or used any other form of personal hygiene, in months. It wasn’t long before he saw lights and pulled over trucks. The man pulled over a block down the road.
“Ah, some folk here be so kind as to leave some supplies for troubled old souls like me.” The man stumbled his way to the campground, flask still in hand. It was at this point he saw a young gal strutting out to the vehicles in bed clothes.
“Ah, even better” the man mumbled to himself. He approached behind the lady quietly and slipped a hand over her mouth. This muffled the screaming she was doing.
“Now now lassie, you be fine. I just be looking fer something to ease my pain. Ya see, I haven’t eaten anythin’ solid for a week, and I’ve been quite lonely. Now thanks to a good saint like yerself, both those problems be fixed.”
Where the drunk had saw just another machine, Adam saw the struggle out of the corner of his viewport. He began to make his way over to the attacker, who had turned his back to him to face the truck of food supplies. The man was so far from the sober side of life he didn’t feel the tremors of Adam’s gait. The old trickster in the heart of that Iron Mongrel decided to have some fun with this guy. He powered off his lights and only had his speakers on.
“You know what? That is not the best idea you have had.”
The man spun around, looking for the source of the voice, still holding onto Jenny. Seeing only some power plant thing, he turned back around. Adam continued;
“I may have to finish what your liver started.”
Again the man searched around to find the voice. Again, to no avail. Adam decided to use a joke from his comrade.
“Hey man, I think I might like you. Why don’t you slap my hand?”
The drunk began to turn around, saying in a pleased tone, “Well now that sounds right proper, where be ye?”
“Right behind you, simpleton.”
The man turned around fully, again staring around trying to find this person who may become a dear friend. He became quite puzzled.
“Come on, Come on, slap it now!”
“Eh? What kind of *burp* trickery is this?”
“This is not a trick.”
“Alright trickster, show yerself!” the man was getting mad at the attempt at friendship.
“As you wish.” Adam flicked on all his lights, including the spot lights. He rose to full height and brought every weapon he had to bear. He pumped extra steam out his exhaust and took 2 steps forward. The drunk stood there dumbfounded. The wrath of the maker had embodied itself right before him.
“May I make a suggestion? RUN!” Adam exclaimed as he began to spin his cannon and light his left flamethrower. The man dropped everything, including Jenny and his trusty flask and ran off down the hill, tripping and falling repeatedly. Adam broke out in a hearty laugh that rivaled the volume of a jet engine, which got the entire camp awake. The mighty machine was laughing so hard it bent over. Soon Jenny joined in the celebration. Kirby came running out to Jenny, asking what had happened, though neither her nor Adam could stop and breathe long enough to tell him.
Hah, that was pretty good.
You got to get me in one of these sometime.