The Truck Stop At the End of the World (OPEN)

[OrcishBarbarian]

Of all the places for a person to have his last civilized meal and steaming cup of coffee, the Desert Special Truckers Cafe surely had to be near the bottom of the list. Situated near the I-15 Interstate linking Southern California with Las Vegas, the Cafe had been built during the booming post-war era of the 50's, had achieved it highest point around 1970, and steadily troughed out ever since.

The Cafe had an inn attached to it...really a one and a half star motel for truckers and everyone else traveling the Mojave. The Inn and Cafe attracted all sorts of people...many of them first-timers, because for almost anyone except rough-cut truckers and low level gang members, there usually wasn't a second time. In fact the only thing keeping the Inn and Cafe afloat were the long-haul truckers and the black and Mexican gangs who would have quiet meetings at the Inn to coordinate activities between Southern California and Las Vegas.

For truckers, the place was reasonably safe. The gang bosses sent out strict orders that trucks--many of whom in fact hauled contraband loads for the gangs themselves--were off-limits. As far as minivans and station wagons with families and women...that was another story. The Inn and its environs averaged about three rapes a week. Most of these went unreported, as the women--most of them young--who were victimized were too scared or embarrassed to report the crime. Local women steered clear of the place...except to work as waitresses, enduring the constant leering and the more than occasional grope...and occasionally more.

Now it is Thursday morning...the usual crowd is in the restaurant, having breakfast...the truckers, the gangbangers, several families heading to Vegas or Disneyland, some independent folk on the road. Most of them will never reach their destinations...as the worst possible news is on its way. In ten minutes, the morning talk shows will be interrupted with news of the destruction of London, Manchester, Berlin, New York, Chicago and Paris by Muslim fanatics...and shortly thereafter America's response will be headed fast and furious over the North Pole.

But for now, settle into a seat with cheap, well-worn plastic upholstery, and enjoy your last hot meal in this Truck Stop at the End of the World...

This is going to be a role-playing game (in other words, I control events in the outside world, and some of what goes on at the Inn itself). Your characters can be from any occupation...gang members, families travelling, independent insurance agents, truck drivers, even employees of the Inn. I'm going to hold off on the fireworks for a time to give players a chance to meet up and establish their characters...let some interactions take place. Then comes the news...and of course things go from there.

 

[redhairstacey4u]

Stella buttoned her apron in the front--the one with the well-worn Desert Special logo on it. It was over a year old, and there were a couple of stains on it that even an act of God would have a hard time getting out. She certainly couldn't.

But trying to get a new uniform out of Ted the owner was like pulling teeth...check back in three months had been his answer. She might get one in six...

Today had dawned cool, but the desert warmth of April was already building. The one good thing about this job was the commute...or lack thereof. All Stella had to do was walk out of her trailer, go out to the road, walk maybe an eighth of a mile, cross the road, walk past the corner Gas and Go, and there was the Desert Special in all its infernal glory. A carload of Mexicans was thumping bass, listening so some Spanish song.

She got inside, clocked in, and went to her first table...

 

[boese_ami]

Charlie slurped his coffee..."Christ," he thought, "that shit is HOT!!" Which was the only thing going for it, because it certainly wasn't good.

Charlie was a semi-local. At 6'3" and a lean 225lbs, the rugged black man with the shaven skull had a coldness about the eyes that warned people not to fuck with him.

He had moved here about 3 years earlier after making a killing on the market back in New York. After a long and messy divorce, in which his barracuda wife had taken him to the cleaners, he just said Fuck it all and headed out west. Tina, the ex, was like an open book to him from day one....he knew she was a Golddigger, that wanted a rich Ni.., emmmm black man (and the Alabama Black Snake he carried with him)...and accepted it. Render unto caesar, and all that trash....

The ex monster had never known of his Delta Force career before she came into his life, nor of the hefty bonus he received from the Army when he discharged out. This he had invested wisely.

So here he was, in this desolate widespot in the road, sipping his coffee, and planning his day. Another day in paradise.....his paradise. 10 acres, a custom built ranchhouse, 20 year old Chevy pick up, underground firing range, and enough weaponry and ordanance for an infantry company....hey, old habits die hard.

And dispite his secret wealth, his tough-as-nails visage, Charlie was smitten....head over heels for the sexy redheaded waitress. The cold one that never gave him the time of day. With her curves, and her tight Desert Springs blouse.....Charlie just knew that someday, he would be Stella's Fella...

 

[redhairstacey4u]

For Charlie

Stella saw Charlie pull up a chair, sit down. She had never liked black people...not that she was consciously racist, but dating a black man was something that would never had occured to her. And her exposure to some of the worst the black race had to offer during her (hopefully) brief career at the Desert Special had only served to reinforce her deepseated fear of black people...

She started to go off to greet a couple who had just walked in, but Charlie gave her a look that told her he wanted his order taken now. And who knew what underworld connections this fierce-looking black man might have? More than the couple with the Universal Studios T-shirts...

Coming up to Charlie, his gaze unnerved her. "May I take your order?"

 

[ppaddleman]

Huskie
male 6ft Gang lutienent

Huskie was facing two other annoyed looking gang leaders who fegularly visited. They kept looking over thier shoulders.
He was annoyed that his boss had sent him. Messanger boys were regularly murdered round here.

"What's your boss on about" Demanded one. Big Sam turned up in piecies in a dozen different dumpsters and Bill turned up with his face a pulp.

Huskie eyeballed the two. They, and their boys, forgot what they are doing here. They were more interested in rapes than deals. Their gangs have raped and murdered a good two dozen ten year olds in the last year.
Thats what got em. I don't know if the dumpster incident was a hit man but I can tell you now that the axe murderer was some grieving mum or dad who just stumbled on Bill and went balastic. I'm sure the cops know who it was and are looking the other way."

He continued on before he could be interupted. "And I've already infiltrated at least one citizens vigilantie group. They will start with cleaning the gangs out and finish with turning this whole place to scorched earth if we don't cool it.
You clean out the worst of your lot. Send em packing. Send em to other pastures. send em aywhere. Anything to make the vigilantes think that they have succeeded. The rest of em you keep on a leash. There's plenty of regular pussy around both with and without a price tag. Have em stick to that for awhile"

 

[OrcishBarbarian]

As Huskie gave his dressing-down to the other gangbangers, on the other side of the world, shadowy terrorists put a van into gear...a van carrying a 60-kiloton warhead into position in the city center of Jerusalem. One pulled out a cell phone, made a call to another pair in Tel Aviv. They synchronized watches, at fourteen minutes to doomsday.

At a couple silos in northern Israel, three custodians of Armageddon checked the shiny, sleek silver missiles they were charged with maintaining. The target lists were input. All systems were ready...as they had been for sixteen years now. Three missiles, each containing four 1.6-megaton sunrises. Awaiting orders....orders that had failed to materialize for five thousand risings and settings of the sun, but that would be coming through in less than an hours' time.

The IDF technicians settled back for a friendly game of cribbage. The telephone on the wall sat in silence.

At the Desert Special, Huskie saw a minivan with a family pull in...a mother and father, two daughters...maybe an aunt. Tourists, headed for Southern California. Not even realizing they would never leave this place...

 

[OrcishBarbarian]

* bump *

One last time...if it doesn't get picked up on, then fuck it...it'll sink down into the thread graveyard.

 

[Prina]

Lucy parked her little rented car and smiled a little as she stepped into the Desert Special Truckers Cafe. The place was just as grim as she had imagined it should be.

Lucy was in her late twenties. A buxom, slightly plump young woman from London. Not unattractive, but still a very shy girl with not much of a social life to speak of. She had decided, in an uncharacteristic moment of spontaneity, to leave her well-paying accountancy job and inject some excitement into her incredibly dull life by setting out of a journey across America. It would be just like in one of those road movies she loved. She might have brought a friend...if she had one. This was Lucy's last ditch attempt to come out of her reclusive life of books, soppy movies and tax audits.

The shady customers, the grease, the smell .... it was perfect, just like the movies. She sat herself into one of the well-worn 50s style booths and had a look at the menu.

 

[OrcishBarbarian]

The decor of the Desert Special made it look like where the 1970s came to die. Some tired posters advertised the glitz of still-distant Las Vegas. About every third table was still empty, but already the place was a hubbub of conversation. Lucy noticed much of it was in Spanish...

A harried waitress trotted up to the table. Along the way, she got her ass grabbed by a swarthy-looking Mexican trucker. Lucy saw her reaction..or lack of a reaction. She seemed to actually slow a bit to allow that calloused brown hand to go up her skirt. Then the man released her, and she proceeded, order pad in hand, to Lucy.

"What would you like this morning?"

Lucy parked her little rented car and smiled a little as she stepped into the Desert Special Truckers Cafe. The place was just as grim as she had imagined it should be.

Lucy was in her late twenties. A buxom, slightly plump young woman from London. Not unattractive, but still a very shy girl with not much of a social life to speak of. She had decided, in an uncharacteristic moment of spontaneity, to leave her well-paying accountancy job and inject some excitement into her incredibly dull life by setting out of a journey across America. It would be just like in one of those road movies she loved. She might have brought a friend...if she had one. This was Lucy's last ditch attempt to come out of her reclusive life of books, soppy movies and tax audits.

The shady customers, the grease, the smell .... it was perfect, just like the movies. She sat herself into one of the well-worn 50s style booths and had a look at the menu.

 

[SuthernCumfort]

Hope you dont mind I join

When Vanessa stepped from the last ride, she was certain she had found hell or a place pretty fucking close to it. She sighed, wiping the last of the dust from her faded levis and walked into the diner.

She was hoping for a job. Something to help her out until she could make it down to Southern California. She wasnt a spectacular beauty but hey, who would complain? She was 5'8 135 pounds of 36D breasts curves from here to there and her youthful green eyes sparkled under the heavily blonded bangs and at a mere 21 years old, she was older in experience than they always gave her credit for. Yet, she was fierce with her tongue and even more dangerous when cornered. But, for a few bucks she would stand and let men google her breasts and feel her up if it helped.

When she walked in she noted the black man, the waitress and the pretty younger girl in the booth. Striding up to the counter, she sat down dropping her bag and picked up the menu.

"Damn, where is Elvis and Roy Orbison?" she said outloud.

"Who do I have to blow to get some service here?" she said again and this time punctuated it with a hearty laugh.

 

[OrcishBarbarian]

A fortysomething lady who looked like she had spent much of her life behind the counter approached Vanessa. She wore a stained Desert Special uniform, and an apron. A name tag identified her as JANET. She had curly brown hair, a matronly body, and the look of someone impervious to humor...then she surprised Vanessa by answering, "With that kind of attitude, you'll find lots of opportunity for advancement here, lady."

If she was joking, Vanessa couldn't tell.

"So what can I do you for," she asked.

When Vanessa stepped from the last ride, she was certain she had found hell or a place pretty fucking close to it. She sighed, wiping the last of the dust from her faded levis and walked into the diner.

She was hoping for a job. Something to help her out until she could make it down to Southern California. She wasnt a spectacular beauty but hey, who would complain? She was 5'8 135 pounds of 36D breasts curves from here to there and her youthful green eyes sparkled under the heavily blonded bangs and at a mere 21 years old, she was older in experience than they always gave her credit for. Yet, she was fierce with her tongue and even more dangerous when cornered. But, for a few bucks she would stand and let men google her breasts and feel her up if it helped.

When she walked in she noted the black man, the waitress and the pretty younger girl in the booth. Striding up to the counter, she sat down dropping her bag and picked up the menu.

"Damn, where is Elvis and Roy Orbison?" she said outloud.

"Who do I have to blow to get some service here?" she said again and this time punctuated it with a hearty laugh.

 

[Prina]

Lucy watched intently as the waitress apathetically flipped over a page in her order-pad as a greasy hand pawed at her uper thigh. Lucy was fascinated. She came from a world of obsessive self-consciousness, where proper manners ruled over all aspects of life. Such brazen behaviour was shocking to her. She was at once disgusted and excited by seeing it.

"Could I have a cup of tea and an omelette please....oh and some toast would be lovely" she said to the waitress. She put the menu down and looked around the diner again. She glanced over at the young blonde girl who had walked to the counter, and heard her say aloud "who do I have to blow to get some service here?". Lucy's eyes opened wide and she put her hand to her mouth. Her surprise turned to bewilderment as she glanced around and saw that no one else seemed the slightest bit perturbed. The swarthy Mexican had just kept his gaze fixed on the young girl's bottom.

 

[OrcishBarbarian]

for Lucy

"Sure...toast coming right up." The waitress made some desultory scribblings on her pad. "You want OJ or Coke with that? One free small drink with every morning entree." The last part sounded almost like a recording. The Mexican's eyes never left her ass.

A TV set on the wall came to life, driven by a cook with a remote control. A newcaster stood in front of a map of Israel and its environs. "IDF tanks have been confirmed rolling into Lebanon. This development had been widely expected as talks broke down last week between Israel, Syria, Iran and Hamas. The Iranian Air Force has been put on--okay, we have a breaking story from the Gulf of Oman--"

"Damn, can you turn that shit off," a trucker sitting in another booth said. "All anyone wants to talk about on the news is the Middle fucking East. How about we just nuke the ragheads and take their fucking oil and be done with it?" There was some scattered support for that idea...and then...

The picture on the TV showed a burning ship...the picture zoomed in, turned grainy. "We go now to an observer aircraft...the ship afire is a supertanker, loaded with oil for Asia...has Iran made good on its threat to close the Persian Gulf lanes?"

"Goddam ragheads, do you know what that's going to do to the price of diesel. Fuck!"

 

[OrcishBarbarian]

Gonna bump this one last time...