I asked Napoleon if I could make a story in his,Khopesh's, Oreo's, and errr, Hikiro Takayama yet unamed post apoc America. I got the go- ahead, and since I'm not an alliance member, it goes in a separate thread, enjoy:
The burly man picked the gritty, concrete rubble that had been San Francisco. He knew it was a dangerous business, since the Japs had taken the west coast, patrols of the tan coated mooks were everywhere, making sure no one was scavenging supplies that would improve their lives.
Apparently, the Japanese weren’t here, which eased the scavenger a little bit. With this more positive mindset, he kept digging, knowing his find wouldn’t be too valuable, as the Japanese always had men near the places like red cross buildings and fallout shelters. They made sure everyone was a living skeleton, totally dependant on the Japs, even needing a permit to farm on “Japanese” land.
Eventually, he got through the rubble, and was very pleased with his small find, four cans of beans, a cartridge box chock full of the rare .44 ball rounds he needed for his no. 2 Dragoon pistol, and a heated blanket. “Jethro” he told himself “you’ve hit the jackpot”! The beans would feed him for four whole days, the bullets, which were almost impossible to find, would come in handy, and the electric blanket would fetch a pretty price from an Arizona bound trader. Jethro let a genuine grin escape.
“Lucky find, dog?” a harsh voice questioned from behind. The grin on Jethro’s face disappeared as fast as it appeared. Jethro spun around to see a Japanese lieutenant, SNLF at that.
“Why, yes my good friend. Care for a smoke?” Jethro said mockingly as he held out a cigarette.
The paratrooper was not amused, he drew his katana and sliced the cigarette in two, watching it roll to the ground and said “slaves have no business insulting their masters”.
“You may be a master, but sure as Hades I ain’t no slave”! By this point, Jethro was teeming with anger. He loose an uppercut that connected with the Jap’s nose, quite literally beating the snot out of the SNLF lieutenant.
“You shall pay for dis, you insoldent andimal!” screamed the paratrooper, his words quite disrupted by his nose, which he was attempting to bandage with a silk handkerchief he had procured.
“No” muttered Jethro, disgustedly “You will, Dog”. Before the bleeding Jap could utter another word, Jethro whipped his old Colt no.2 out of his leather jacket and shot the Jap in the left eye.
“Nice sword, buddy” Jethro whispered to the corpse, taking the katana from it’s deceased owner. Swords were rare, trade items, very popular Miwok Indians. Of course, there’s a chance that the Miwok you sell that sword to kills you in an ambush the next day, but that’s a chance that’s worth the profit it would bring.
His work done, Jethro made his way back to his beaten, Harley-Davidson, loot in hand. Gunning the motor, Jethro headed Northeast, in the direction of Reno.
*********A few days later, in Reno, Nevada*************
Jethro pulled up into the shanty-town called Reno, Nevada. Reno was built from scrap metal, on the ruins of once glorious hotels and casinos the Japs had bombed decades ago. However, as the years passed, Imperial Japan had left Reno, and people began to repopulate it.
Small, beady eyed children dressed in flour sacks stared at the massive scavenger. He chuckled and tossed one of the cans he had found their way before he continued cycling through the desolate town. On his way to the center of town, Jethro could hear cries of loss. The loss of a gambler, down on his luck. The loss of a mother, her child found dead. All theses cries made him more determined to get where he was going.
Eventually, Jethro reached a cluster of tents on the other side of town. Traders were all about the camp, playing games like blackjack, running to their calling wives, and hawking their wares to curios visitors. Jethro made his way over to an old, green, army tent and yelled in “Yo, Danny, ya in there?”.
A short fat man, who was obviously Scottish in descent peeped out. “Where are your manners, laddy?” he piped up, not amused.
“Relax Danny, it’s me, Jethro”.
“That explains quite a bit, ya never had any ta start. What have ye got fer me todey, I’m certain yer not here fer me lively conversation?”
“Well my good friend, that depends, are you headed for Arizona, or perhaps another region where the nights are most chilling?”
“Of course, cain’t conduct me own business, with the Japs all over the bloody place. Arizona’s relatively free, Tuscon’s where I be headin’”
“Then I’m most certain I may interest you in this fine electric blanket, and unused too”
The trader’s face lit up with delight. “Ow much do ye want fer that fine article?”
Jethro replied, “well, I could use about ten cans of soup and four canteens.”
“Are ye mad, laddy, that heated blanket will fetch me a pretty penny, but I’ve only 27 cans o’ soup, and they’d be quite valuable. The canteens on the other hand, are quite easy ta come across, make it seven cans o’ soup and six canteens, and ye’ll ave’ a done deal.”
“You win this time Danny, your still as charismatic as 13 years ago” said Jethro, in mock defeat. The two men exchanged articles, Jethro filled his canteens, and the friends repacked their supplies.
“Jethro” Danny casually said “I’m just as charismatic, but my eyes ain’t as keen as they once were, If I were ta pay ya, would ye serve as guard fer the caravan?”
“Sure Danny, but I can’t go as far as Tuscon, it’s still prime scavenging season, I can take you as far as Vegas.”
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good-Rom12:21
You'll never find a cup of tea deep enough or a book long enough to suit me-CS Lewis
Last edited by SPACE MARINE on Fri Jun 03, 2011 7:14 am, edited 1 time in total.