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Journal/Logs


Log journal of T.J. Johnson aka Strike
Entry 1 of 3

In the Beginning

Written by Lord Reynard, added 25 October 2013 @ 05:53

Entry in Timeline: 0023, 10, 13

It started with a sickness, a strange disease that turned some of its victims into dust baffling the greatest medical minds the world had to offer. At the same time some begin to mutate into gruesome monsters, fiends determined to destroy, driven primal by the strange illness sweeping the globe. Before long the governments collapsed, falling into disarray. During the chaos factions formed, some of the major corporations formed their own claiming chunks of land from the Freaks and mutates. Corporate zones were highly regulated, only the clean were allowed into their cities, the evolved were controlled if they could be and restricted if they were deemed of little use or uncontrollable. Through the chaos the plains nation evolved taking over everything from the Oregon territory all the way to the eastern mountains. Through the combined efforts of the confederated tribes a society where all peoples were welcome, though not as safe or prosperous as the corporate structures their territory spanned much further. It was here that Strike found himself sitting in the 'Desert Rose', a Tavern inside a safe-stop just west of the Apache Secure Zone. Strike broke from his thoughts long enough to take his bottle from the serving girl and toss her a lug nut and two bolts, the local currency. He had grossly over paid by their standard, making the girl blush. She sidled up next to him shyly, thinking he wished more from her than the bottle.
"If you'd like to sit and have a drink you may but the change on that bottle is yours regardless, I mean no disrespect, simply have a lot on my mind." Strike said quietly as he reached down and flipped his bag open, pulling a shot glass out and setting it on the table.
Just then a man in riding leather walked in through the side door and two others from the front mere moments later, obviously planned that way.
'So...they hit this place sooner than I expected, figured they'd come at dawn that is what the pattern said wasn't it? Oh well, guess its a good thing I didn't get a drink down yet, could have made this impossible.' He thought in an instant as he changed persona into the hunter he had become.
As the room fell silent the men surveyed the place, 'here it comes if I let him start talking the pattern says she takes a shot to the stomach gotta change the pattern' he thought as the man at the side entrance took a breath in order to speak.
With a split second to calculate he decided and reached out grabbing a handful of the serving girls bottom. With a squeal she leapt away as he rose from his seat to give chase, pasting a silly grin on his face and running with a strange limping gait.
"Stop that this instant!" The man squeaked after he managed to regain his composure, his face turning red with fury. 'He doesn't like being ignored eh? Good.' Strike thought while simultaneously spurring on the young woman as he pursued her through the maze of tables drawing ever closer to his target.
"Sir..sir please..sir, listen to the man please... SIR?!' She squeaked and laughed once as he chased her around a table, she hadn't had the chance to grasp the seriousness of the situation yet and some of the patrons were watching in shock. All of them had sensed that danger, but she was blissfully unaware as she bounded away from him and hid behind the man who had come in the side door, the one who had planned to come in, make his false promise then shoot her, rob everyone, then dispose of them the same way they had to at least twelve others in the Tribal lands. With her behind him and not touching him the moment was perfect, dropping his facade he rose to his full six feet plus and smiled.
"Stop that you fool you will listen don't you ignore me do as I say and no-" he started then stopped as he made to turn on the bar maid behind him. Before he made it around Strike reached out and touched the side of the murderers head, passing an electric current into him he shorted the man out dropping the crook like a ton of stones. Spinning around he crouched into a standard ready stance, right foot forward, pointed toward the enemy, left foot supporting him lined up with his shoulders. His hands laid gracefully above his stomach, right above left, palms parallel but not touching. In between his palms electricity crackled.
Your boss is under arrest, his bounty is ten times yours put together, he's done all the killing...twelve girls plus all the patrons, you're small fries compared." Strike said before the two could raise their weapons.
"What do you mean bout them other patrons? We didn't kill no drinkin folk! We only went along with him shootin the bar girls is cause he said itd scare the folks into payin! We was just, oh hell, we gonna hang ain't we?" They both said so fast you couldn't tell one from the other, the girl squeaking when they mentioned the fate of the bar maids.
"Your boss didn't tell you huh? He sets Neurotoxin bombs off inside the places you rob, explains the timers he sets, I figured it was an attempt at maximizing damage.... guess he was just covering his tracks, either way your accessories right now....but...not if you drop your weapons and leave here, head back to the Apache and join the defensive line, they'll take ya feed ya and rename ya then I won't have to hurt ya." He said eyeing them closely, one false move and he would strike them with an arc, or more adequately their weapons, and if he did they'd wish they were dead when their ammo discharged inside their firearms.
"We owe that bastard nothing, let's get outta here." One of them said turning toward the door.
"Remember the deal you leave all your weapons here, they're my price for your lives take it or leave it." Strike said freezing the men, " and that goes for you two in the kitchen as well there is no escaping believe me." He added smugly to the two who were watching through the kitchen door before he spoke and made them tumble through it.
"It's a deal..." They sighed as they set their weapons on his table. He made sure he had them all before he allowed them to leave, each one receiving a different threat about what would happen if they didn't follow the conditions. As the last one left Strike apologized to the room, sat down at his corner table the bounty shackled on the floor nearby, and set about cleaning, cataloging and stashing his haul.




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