Barter Town

[Nose_Meat]

The air was hot. The sun was at its peak in the high noon sky, and off in the hills outside the poorly built ramshackle walls of the city, a storm was picking up the sand in small cyclones. The gates were tightly shut, and tall enough to let a two mack trucks stacked on top of eachother through. Two heavily armed guards with not much less of four and a half brain cells between them held the doors with stark devotion. Jazz walked from the openness, armed with her military issued M 16 on her back, a 50 caliber at her hip, and a dull bowie knife shoved in her high rise army boot. The custom kevlar vest, a patch of red and yellow at the upper right corner of an eagle in the sunset, made her sweat profusely, and she pushed her hair backwards from her face with broken fingers, to rid her eyes of the blockage. Her eyes were something else, pitch black blue, something about them made you shiver. She had lost her helmet a long time ago on the trail, and she was happy she did; if she were to have it on right now it would fry her head like a giant baked potato. She was average height, about 5'8", and very curvy for a woman in the desert. She had a unbalanced hourglass shape with the heavier part at the hips. Her olive jumpsuit was frayed at the sleeves, now rolled up to her muscular arms, leaving the branding of an eagle on her shoulder exposed. The knees were missing from much wear and tear and random staings and cuts and frays led anyone to believe that she had been walking for a great time. Jazz stopped before the gates, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as the wind whipped her sunburned face unforgivingly. She spoke up, her voice soft and melodic like a lullaby of sorts, but powerful at the same time; it was very hard not to pay attention to.
"Excuse me, boys.. you wouldn't mind me coming in for a lil' rest would you? I'm sure you're in as much a hurry as I am."
She gave them a wink. They didn't look amused. The left one, a slightly larger pillar of meat, grunted and eyed her up. She forced herself not to sneer at him, she looked away instead.
"What will you give us in return? This is Barter Town, after all." The right one snickered with blackened chips he called teeth. Jazz did sneer this time, her hand fluttered from her face to her chest and retrieved something on a sparkly string that glittered against the dusty sun from her nicely sized bosom. She tossed it to the left amoeba and smiled sweetly. He caught it with a monster paw and eyed it as if he hadn't seen anything like it, when in all reality he probably hadn't.
"There. Its my tags. I won't be needing them. I'm sure you can melt them down or something...chew on em.."
The left one, the one most in charge it seemed, snorted again and slammed his giant fist into the doors, echoing it all throughout the desert. Jazz winced and looked around as the sound of rusty chains and pulleys hoisted by imaginary people somewhere opened the doors to Barter Town. The smell hit her like a ton of bricks. She toppled over and wretched to her side. her blue eyes wild.
"What the fuck is that?"
"That's the smell of sin, baby."
"Get used to it."



The air was increasingly stale and fetid. Jazz held her handkerchief over her nose and mouth, though it did nothing against the putrid filth around her. The main street was lined with bazaars and shops of all sorts, a mutant with a droopy set of lips offered her a small creature to eat tonight, top dollar, fresh and ready to serve! She passed it up
"I don't eat rats, Filth."
She wallowed through the thick thrush of townsfolk, all sizes and shapes. Ears, noses,hands, skin, scabs, sores, pus, lesions, and eyes everywhere where they shouldn't be. She shook her head, what kind of horrible breeding had taken place here? she wasn't used to such displays. She backed into a wide woman, barely dressed in a bright red sheer scarf and was immediately berated and cussed in some high pitched language she had never heard. She was so new to all this.....she hadn't left the camp before, she didn't know anything but death.
"Well hey there miss,you don't look so hot, wanna take a breather in the Inn? I can get you a cold drink?" A very tanned man with a potbelly and no teeth proposed to her, his lips flapping everywhere, spittle flying in gobs.
"I'll pass."
She tried to run the opposite direction, but it seemed as if the number of people swelled to a billion. She was choked and cornered in a sea of nasty bodies. That's when the loud bang came again. All the noise stopped as the rusty chains were pulled for the gates, she could now see that they were being pulled by two moth-faced creatures with wide feet, chained by piercing in their long neck. A few men beating them in the meaty flanks as they scurried away in vane. The town was silent. All their heads were pointed to the opening as whispers spread out through the crowd.
"Who can it be?"
"Is it the shipment?"
"Where you expecting anythin,Braxas?"
"I hope their traders"
Jazz found her break now, amidst the confusion. And ran into the deeper part of the city, actual buildings lined the web work of streets and the smell, even as she got used to it, was hot and overpowering. The townies seemed a bit more creature than human it seemed, she shivered. They were humans of course.. just very ugly ones. She smiled to herself and ducked into a pub where she could at least hide herself for a little while before hitting the road again.

[Toneh]

Four days later in Ira Time….

It was at this point in Jazz’s venture as she bounded her way into the rabid cesspool of deals and contracts being struck that he as she turned her head to glance around that she literally and forcefully ran into somebody quite hard. She could hear the click of the plastic as her body rammed into what felt akin to a brick wall. It would knock her back slightly, but all of the force had been conveyed into the figure who was wearing sun stained grey battle armor from head to foot.

The figure had a large, think long barreled rifle slung across his back, and was wearing what amounted to a military styled helmet, with a set of goggles strapped across the front. On his chest in faded tiny red letters was written “PFC Ira Ramirez.” With a humble blue cross next to it.

Ira toppled over faster then a new born colt as it struggled to take its very first steps. He tried to utter a swear, but what Jazz would hear come from the young man’s mouth was a strange sound, a snarl mixed in with pain as he fell, but landed on his knee. His left knee. The Boot popped off like a cork, and was clearly held together with what appeared to thin plastic wrappings. The boot, and armor was enough to cover most of his shin, but the foot that should have been in the boot did not exist. All she would see was a stump, that lay with white bandages wrapped tightly around it. It was stained brown signifying that the wound was well treated. But considering all that was left of his left leg was a stump that was just below the knee certainly explained why his eyes were burning a hole into her face.

“You stupid fucking bitch!” He snarled as he pushed him self back on to his ass, clearly reaching for the pistol at his hip. The crowd around them seemed to stop, and all eyes were on them. Ira’s pistol was out. “Anybody even fucking tries to touch me, and I will blow your fucking head off. That gun was floating around in all directions, aiming with great precision and held with an out stretched arm at a crowd of mixed faces and expressions. Ira’s free hand was frantically pulling that fake boot/leg closer to him. His large brown eyes soon fell back on Jazz who was the closest. As did his gun.

[Nose_Meat]

Before she could bat an eyelash the barrel of a gun was down her throat, she swallowed, the large lump there sliding painfully down to her stomach. She was going to be sick. This hadn't been the first time a gun had been in her face, but being in solitary confinement had seriously hurt her mentally.

"Fuck, watch where you're going, gimp, or you'll have more to worry about than a boot full of hamburger"

She snarled, her blue eyes flaming, even if she was at the receiving end of a stick fuck. She didn't care to die, it was
going to have to happen sometime. She spit to the side, not taking her eyes from the goblin on the floor below her. Her hand went to her side instinctively for her glock but it had went missing in a previous deal, she cursed herself in her head.

"What are you doing out in the open anyway, you retarded or something?"

She smiled, the barrel still a Siamese twin to her forehead. She breathed in deeply, her eyes trained on his, reading his next move.

[Toneh]

A snarl escaped Ira’s lips and a soft hum could be heard as he cranked up the charge of the Gun’s Capacitor, I was trading for information you whore!” Ira hissed with clinched teeth, his raspy voice enunciating every word. Sure enough to her right she would find Ira was at what appeared to be Vendor’s hut. The Vender was standing their watching the whole scene, his mottled face signified he was clearly of Asian descent.

Ira was having trouble getting his boot on, but she could see his finger was gently beginning to squeeze that trigger. She could see it in his eye, that single deep beautiful eye right eye was opened wide, the other eye was forced shut, the eye lid protectively over what could only be assumed to be a ruined eye. But that glare was intense. A normal person could see he at present was in no mood for exchanging words and was almost now wishing to kill her.

The crowd on the other hand had circled around them and were shouting chants at Ira. “Shoot her!”

“Yea! Blow her fucking head off!”

They were laughing, and starting to place bets on if he would shoot her or not.

[Nose_Meat]

Jazz breathed again, and chewed the inside of her cheek in nervous habit. Her voice was calm and melodic as if she were talking to a close friend. She was good at this, he could tell.
"Listen, it was an accident. I didn't mean anything."
She closed her eyes and swallowed again, that smile still on her face.
"But if you're gonna shot do it.. fucking shoot me. I didn't do anything but bump into you....but I guess thats enough for men of small caliber."
She snickered at her joke, her eyes shot open and her hand slowly reached to the barel, pushing it closer into her soft skin.
"Do it. I bet you become a better person,I bet you get your leg back, I bet all these people will remember who you are in ten minutes."
She smiled wider, her insisors sharpened to points made her seem inhuman and slightly more appealing.
"What are you waiting for."
She breathed harder, stareing him down fiercely, her smile more of a dare than in defiance.

[Toneh]

He pulled the trigger. Click. Their was no choir of angels for Jazz, no divine light. Just Ira’s facial expression contorting into one of shock. “You lucky bitch…” He said in a half whisper as he lowered his gun. Ira inspected the gun and found it to be full, it was just Gabriel has placed the safety on and the slicing mechanism failed to chamber and sent a round clean through her brain.

“You pussy!”

“Take her head off!”

Ira turned his head and pointed his gun at the crowd. “Hey! Shut the fuck up!” He then raised it to the air, and pulled the trigger of the pistol again, a softer, less defining thump echoed through the air. The crowd broke into shrieks and soon all scattered away.

Ira let out another snarl and immediately set about securing his boot and placing it back on her feet.

[Nose_Meat]

Jazz's heart stopped, she fell back in shock, blinking feeling her forehead. She heard the click and thought it was over. She couldn't breathe as she looked at Ira accross from her, sitting in the muddy earth mixed with sewage. She sat forward, , wiping her smeared hands on her nasty jumpsuit, shaking slightly as she grabbed Ira's boot and held it firm so he could shove his meatstick into it.
"Thanks for killing me, bastard"
She smiled at him, her heart finally resuming its irregular heartbeat.
"You're a real sweet, guy."

[Toneh]

Ira, not missing a beat jerked the boot from her hands and soon had it on his missing leg. He was securing it when he looked at her returning her smile with a rather sickly sneer. “We could always try again, I’m pretty sure your luck wont be so good the next go around.”

As sadistic as his tone may have been, the fact remained that those close to Ira would have immediately realized this was his way of being funny. The truth of it is he was still contemplating shooting her, but her luck prevailed and he then began struggling to get back to his feet. “No, I’m not.” He responded as he gasped in and endured the pain of standing on both of his feet, new one included.

He then looked around at the murky crowd that was now returning to life as normal in this hub of debauchery.

“I am not a good person…All the good people I know are dead, well except one.” He said looking around. “No where did he run of too…”

Ira looked around frantically. “GABERIAL?!” He called out, his voice sounding rather angry.

[Nose_Meat]

She stood, , frowning at him with a big hunk of dislike and a bad taste in her mouth.
"I was being sarcastic. No ones a good person."
She smiled again, looking around to see if there were anyway to get back to the gates. Time was escaping her, it was before long Vester found her and did much worse than this one legged cyclops could do. And no miracle would save her.
"Which way is the way out, hog? I gotta split, even though I hate one night stands like these."
Looking around the crowd became thicker, and the day seemed like it became more oppressive and obnoxious. She pulled a dingy rag from her chest and held it to her mouth to keep the smell from gagging her. Three or so days and she still hadn't gotten used to it.
"This is the asshole of the planet...."

[Toneh]

Ira let out a guttural snarl at the girl’s question. “This is the only town for thousands of miles, and honestly, it is the best thing I have seen in over three years, good luck.” He snapped as he raised his armored hand up, and pointed to the west. She got lucky, and Ira had indeed been listening to Gaberial’s sermon about god’s will and how everything was meant to happen. So it was fair to assume that Ira figured by his gun not firing, she had at least earned the privilege of him charging the weapon up and pulling the trigger again.

Ira tied the boot, and it’s armor back to his knee and thigh guards, slapped down several clamps, and tighten what amounted to a cluster of straps and bindings to keep the prosthetic in place, and allowing him some mobility. Ira with a grunt, and use of several explicative’s rose to his feet. He then brought his goggles down over his eyes, and grabbed the re-breather mask and placed it over his face. The mask switched on, and with a hiss emitted a plume of mist into the air behind his helmet covered head. This pistol was then slammed into hits holster on his left thigh, and he brought his rifle around into his hands.

A group of six raider’s calmly marched past. All eagerly eying up the girl who had knocked Ira down. They wore crude armored plates across their dirty naked chests, and behind them, hands bound, and a roped tied around each neck, were several children and women. Bruised and battered, naked as the day they were born.

The leader, sporting a head full of unwashed hair switched his gaze to Ira, and his eyes drew wide. “Holy shit. The Raider group paused, and stared at him with what could only be called fear. “Aye!” The leader said trying to seem un afraid. “Are you the man that did the girlies a few months ago.”

Ira stood, rifle in hand. “Yea. I did.” He said dispassionately. Then with vicious hiss Ira added “Outsider.” The word was delivered in the fashion of a berating term, clearly meant to insult and degrade. The Raider backed up, and shifted his hand to his AK-47 that was strapped across his back. “Calm down man…I just wanted to know how much you wanted for the bitch?” He said motioning to Jazz and shifting her a hungry glare.

Ira snarled in disgust at the question. The movement Ira made was well practiced, it was a blur, a snap of well trained muscles that sent the barrel of his long slender rifle to with in a millimeter of the raider’s crusty sun burnt nose. “You half naked savage!” He growled. “If you and your filth don’t keep walking I will shoot you in your fucking face.”

The Raider froze, but the click of weapons being primed could be heard as they were lifted and aimed at both Ira and Jazzmine.

A soft voice from the back of the group, a young man holding an M$ carbine spoke up. “You would do best lowering your weapon, we ain’t the Girlies, we will fuck you up!”

Ira snapped back “Yea, The Girlies are dead, and I’d be more then happy to let you snake eating sun worshipping outsiders join them.”

[poonwrangler]

“Ha-ha my nigga!”

That voice. Smooth, flowing, and utterly confident rang out from behind the slaves. Francisco’s hide boots gently touched the dusty earth below sending small puffs of dust swirling into the air. The bottom of his duster jacket hung open, and the ends of it danced with the gentle wind as he calmly approached the scene from behind the slaves the Raider’s were dragging behind them. His handsome face had contorted into a wide smile that was painted with malevolence, and his eyes were beaming with enjoyment, from under his leathery wide brimmed hat. His brown skin glistened with sweat that trickled from his head and down every crease and crevice down to the thick almost alien looking armor that secured tightly around his chest.

Francisco was clearly fit and trim, not heavily muscled but lean, his gait and build resembling that of a dancer. His movements were not the pained forced movements of Ira, who liked to jerk around in snaps to conserve energy, nor where they the peaceful relaxed movements of Gabriel. If one watched this man they could easily see every muscle working in concert, all the subject of conscious though, a bitter symphony working in perfect harmony as he like a ghost pushed past the slaves, and halted two feet to the left flank of the raiders.

He stood with the collar of the jacket popped up so that is shadowed his face, and the sleeves hanging limply across his flanks, his arms resting inside of the jacket. No weapon had been drawn, the high tech pulse rifle was strapped across his back, and hidden from view under his coat, but a pistol sat in it’s holster, resembling an ancient Colt 45 “Peace Maker”. His left hand hung limply above it.

“Ira, you did not say we were going to a party.” He said cheerfully. “Shiiiit… you found your self a girl friend, even met little clique, did any body bring the shine?” He asked looking around. “Oh…we have slaves?” He said looking to the depressing group of people who stood behind the raiders, naked and bound.

“I gotta tell ya Ira, you sure are the party animal….” He said in a half laugh, but then in what appeared to be a very sudden mood swing, his hand grabbed the crescent shaped ivory colored hilt of his pistol and jerked it out from his holster. It was as quickly as a bolt of lightning, that pistol flew up and was aimed at the head of one of the raiders. It made a loud high pitched squeal as it’s power cell charged up.

Francisco leaned in forward and began whispering to the man. “Look…I don’t wanna kill you, my friend over there…he will…just lower your guns…and you and your people can walk away, and make some money with that haul okay?”

[Kings Anointed]

Picking through what the inhabitants of this mangled and warped city of sin call food Gabe found a few things that looked somewhat edible. Hopefully, they weren't just edible but were healthy. Not likely in this place he knew though. The Lord had told Gabe's inner man that this place needed saving so while they were here it would be his priority to preach to these urban sodomites and mangled peoples. Then he heard it. Almost like the voice of God but this boom came not fro my sky but into it from the ground. It was Ira's pistol. Not as loud as the MA Rifle but still as unmistakable.

Gabe gathered up his purchase into a backpack and whipped out his shepherds' sling and pulled out of his side pouch several smooth stones he'd picked up along the trip in river beds and other places. Quickly Gabriel made his way to the street where Ira had been on trading for information. He from the corner as best as could see was Ira, a stunning woman in soldier attire on one side of the street. Then in the middle of the street amidst other inhabitants were raiders with bound captives who weren't clothed. His heart within him hurt for those women. Gabe watched a man in cowboy reminiscent attire came up behind the Raiders between them and the women. The Raiders of course were armed and pointing their weapons at Ira and the woman. They'd not happen to notice the other man in their midst yet. God help the man if he wasn't armed with something. Gabe gauged his distance from the raiders and clearing he had knowing he needed enough room to swing his shepherd's sling at the optimal speed force to propel one of the smooth stones from it and render the raider's leader unconscious to distract the others.

The rank air was also getting to him so he wasn't on par with his usual state of mind he was more hurried and a little on edge. However, his accuracy was still as sharp. When he was sure he'd found a good clearing away from the hustle and bustle he whipped out the sling tossing a stone inside it and began swinging it vertically building momentum within a minute he had enough force build up to begin swinging it over his head. In this final stage Gabriel's keen eye took aim on the Leader's head. Now he was waiting for the right moment the built up speed was enough for the stone to move nearly as fast as a lead bullet and just as heavy and go through skin and bone. Depending on the point of impact the projectile would either disable the man or send him to the Lord. "Lord guide this rock as did you with David against Goliath. In Jesus' name, amen." Gabe prayed softly preparing to release the stone if the time came to strike.

[Toneh]

“Drop em!” The leader said, his voice shaky from the fact he had Ira’s gun in his face. “You saw what Marline and her boys could do, I doubt this guy is different…” The mo-hawked muscled raider said, his blue eyes bulging out of his skull. The raider’s men lowered their weapons, right at the moment a fist sized stone slammed into the leader’s temple.

Blood exploded from out of the wound as the rock managed to penetrate into the man’s skull, and was now lodged in half way. The Raider’s head jerked and he fell to the ground dead, with blood pooling around his head, as well as squirting into the air like a tiny crimson fountain. Ira hissed in shock, but he recognized who had done it, only Gabriel would be so foolish enough to use a primitive sling against a man wielding an automatic weapon. Ira advanced “Drop em!” He hissed thrusting his rifle forward into the others.

The Raider’s obeyed Ira’s command, and their weapons soon strapped at their shoulders and their hands rose “Murderer!” A woman shrieked from behind Gaberial. “Murdereeeerrr!” another man howled, until before any one could react people in the streets were all staring at Gaberial.

One of the men turned to Francisco. “Heh…looks like your friend over there is gone be getting sent to battle dome.”

Ira Lowered his weapon and tilted his head “Battle Dome?” What the fuck is battle dome dirt rat?”

The Raider chuckled. “Well Giles got what he deserved, but you kill in the streets with out a just cause, and you get sent to battle dome. True nuff he can walk o’round wit ya, but ya boy can’t leave now, the town will kill him.”

Ira got silent, and made a masturbatory motion to the raiders before motioning for them to leave. “Gabe get your dirt farming ass over here.”

Ira looked Francisco up and down. “Do you know anything about this shit?”

A crowd was now surrounding Gabe, and they were now chanting “Battle Dome Battle Dome! Violently, over and over again. If one were to look around, no guards had approached, but the ones in the area were all watching. Gabe was officially trapped in Barter Town.

[Nose_Meat]

BATTLE DOME BATTLE DOME BATTLE DOME

The chants came from the very pits of Hell it seemed. Jazz stared at the scene around her with wild blue eyes, her brain on the edge. After the altercation with the rebel, she locked up, the voices were coming to her....they wanted him, the raider, but she didn't want to kill. She had closed her eyes and shut them out, but this is what she was faced with when she came back.

BATTLE DOME BATTLE DOME BATTLE DOME

The man. The man in the simple clothing. He was close to death now she could smell it. Her brain wanted to explode, but she fought harder and harder to trap the voices in, keep the darkness out; keep it from swallowing her again.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

She turned to the cyclops with bad breath beside her, nodding at the Sheppard as he came to them, she could sense something different about him, but couldn't quite point it out, her head hurt too much to care at this point. She snorted angrily at how the doomed soul was armed; he wasn't going to survive anything with a silly rag and a rock.

"How in the hell is he going to defend himself?"

She snorted again at Ira, as if he had all the answers. She looked at Gabe, that half crazed stare straight into him.

"You won't survive if this is what i think it is."

She smirked, feeling the darkness drip in through an unseen crack in her brain. The blood from the fallen raider washed about her feet like a joyous embrace, dancing in red and black lines. She pulled out her semi-automatic from her back and cocked it, her heat was pounding and the colors were all blending together around her. She could feel the voices... pulling at her. She smiled, holding the gun at attention lest she need it.

"This could get interesting..."

The sky grew a dark Grey and the sun dissipated from the face of the Earth.

[poonwrangler]

“Go on…go on boys..” Francisco said ushering the raiders to push off and go about before it started getting even more complicated. He gingerly placed his gun back into its holster, and stood smiling over at Gabriel. “DAMN!” He exclaimed loudly enough for the group to hear him. “You really did start a party Ira!” He said laughing, and moving in close. He straightened his coat over his shoulders and whistled at the crowd.

Then he turned and looked at Ira and the young lady. “battle Dome in this town is part entertainment, part law. You see when preacher man decided to be a hero and killed that raider, the town saw it as a violation of his civil liberties, thus meaning that they want him to fight in Battle Dome. If Gabriel Survives, he is free to go, and well if he loses…there wont be much left.” Those brown eyes locked on to Ira’s mask covered face. “Also If he tries to leave the guards will shoot him on the spot, I mean we can try to fight our way out of here…but that would really defeat the purpose of coming to this Den of Sin!” He said slapping Ira on his soldier.

Francisco then turned. “DAMN! I'M THIRSTY! I am going to go have a drink! I know a nice place here that sells that Blue Dirt you like so much!” As he spoke those malevolent brown eyes locked on to Jazzmine for a split second, and flashed her a very visible wink. The look was predatory, and very uncomfortable.

With that Francisco turned and started walking down the crowd filled main road. “Preacher Man!” He exclaimed. “Lets go!” He said mid walk, and not even turning his head to even look at the man.