ArcticAvenue
Randomly Pawing At Keys
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2013
- Posts
- 1,650
((Closed for kristaswallows))
Gibbs gripped the wrench tightly as he pushed it to free the lugnut from bolt. There wasn’t any sign of anyone watching him, nor was there a suggestion he was doing anything scavenging from car no one owned, but its more rare these days that junkyards are left unattended than they were to be fully staffed with killers. He needed this tire though, needed it for any chance to continue on down the road. Risking your life over a tire was just standard for these times. Undoubtedly, it will be the way things are for now on.
In the years since the great wars, the world changed to redefine it’s priorities. Long ago, Gibbs was in that pack that wished to have that one more nice refrigerator or television, or just the cash needed to buy those things. Now a luxury looked more like a can of fruit. In those towns that were burned clean, even firewood was worth more than anything in the world. Gibbs had seen people killed over a bottle of alcohol. So many died during those wars, but so many died since then. The only meek that inherit this earth were those ones that could hunt for their own food.
Gibbs isn’t meak, that’s for sure. The recent years he grew stronger than the flab that grew with his old job, so now his six foot frame was well rounded. He kept his hair tied back, just to keep it out of his eyes for when he had to work like this, but that didn’t stop the beard running down his neck. All of it turning more light brown than the black hair he had back when the world had barbershops to go to. He wore mostly denim, since that seemed to last longer. Plus the more leather he’d wear would make him look more like a threat. Gibbs was smart enough to know that looking like a threat is a ticket to getting killed.
No better example of that was Cutie Pie. A pink hybrid car that has become his transport on this journey. For mauraders out on the roads, Cutie Pie had no real value. There wasn’t much room for anything to haul, she wasn’t powerful enough to break roadblocks, and … let’s just say that a pink car isn’t intimidating. Yet for Gibb’s needs, she’s perfect. Since leaving the mountains out east, the modified tank only was near empty when he had to trade gas for safe passage. He rigged up a mast and sometimes sails across the land like some pink windwagon. Plus with the safes and hidden spots, Gibbs has been able to keep what he needs safe.
All that changed when just a few miles away, she hit something and ripped a tire to pieces. That’s what puts him here, with only two hunting knives in his belt and multi-wrench to protect himself, he came here with the only chance he had to move on. Ready to defend himself if need be, but at this time he had no idea what was out there to defend himself against. Finally the lugnut let loose, the tire was free, yet this wasn’t the time to relax.
Gibbs gripped the wrench tightly as he pushed it to free the lugnut from bolt. There wasn’t any sign of anyone watching him, nor was there a suggestion he was doing anything scavenging from car no one owned, but its more rare these days that junkyards are left unattended than they were to be fully staffed with killers. He needed this tire though, needed it for any chance to continue on down the road. Risking your life over a tire was just standard for these times. Undoubtedly, it will be the way things are for now on.
In the years since the great wars, the world changed to redefine it’s priorities. Long ago, Gibbs was in that pack that wished to have that one more nice refrigerator or television, or just the cash needed to buy those things. Now a luxury looked more like a can of fruit. In those towns that were burned clean, even firewood was worth more than anything in the world. Gibbs had seen people killed over a bottle of alcohol. So many died during those wars, but so many died since then. The only meek that inherit this earth were those ones that could hunt for their own food.
Gibbs isn’t meak, that’s for sure. The recent years he grew stronger than the flab that grew with his old job, so now his six foot frame was well rounded. He kept his hair tied back, just to keep it out of his eyes for when he had to work like this, but that didn’t stop the beard running down his neck. All of it turning more light brown than the black hair he had back when the world had barbershops to go to. He wore mostly denim, since that seemed to last longer. Plus the more leather he’d wear would make him look more like a threat. Gibbs was smart enough to know that looking like a threat is a ticket to getting killed.
No better example of that was Cutie Pie. A pink hybrid car that has become his transport on this journey. For mauraders out on the roads, Cutie Pie had no real value. There wasn’t much room for anything to haul, she wasn’t powerful enough to break roadblocks, and … let’s just say that a pink car isn’t intimidating. Yet for Gibb’s needs, she’s perfect. Since leaving the mountains out east, the modified tank only was near empty when he had to trade gas for safe passage. He rigged up a mast and sometimes sails across the land like some pink windwagon. Plus with the safes and hidden spots, Gibbs has been able to keep what he needs safe.
All that changed when just a few miles away, she hit something and ripped a tire to pieces. That’s what puts him here, with only two hunting knives in his belt and multi-wrench to protect himself, he came here with the only chance he had to move on. Ready to defend himself if need be, but at this time he had no idea what was out there to defend himself against. Finally the lugnut let loose, the tire was free, yet this wasn’t the time to relax.