outrun: rough draft
2018-12-18 14:11![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
noncorporealformi just feel like posting a snippet. it's sam and bucky, getting along as usual. this is less cyberpunky and more wastelandy, but i promise the neon is coming.
The guy was goddamn spooky when he wanted to be.
The broad, intimidating figure was dragging a NOMAD sentry robot behind him with his metal arm. Sam told Alice to keep off her ankle and marched up to the soldier, glaring from under his brow.
“Man, what the hell?” Sam said once out of earshot of the kid. “What are you thinking, bringing this thing here?”
The soldier took off his goggles and mask to reveal skin lined with a dirt streak running across the nose and cheeks of a handsome but sorrowful face. He dropped the weight of the NOMAD with a thud and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
“I ripped out its trackers,” the soldier said. “We can use the parts.”
Sam put his hands on his hips. The guy was right. He hated when he was right. And if anybody could find all the trackers, it was this guy.
“We can,” Sam said. “But you didn’t have to go out of your way to do it.”
“I didn’t,” the soldier said. “He was getting too close to the camp. I threw the trackers away far from where I wrecked it. They’ll think I went in that direction. I didn’t like it wandering too close.”
“You think the sentries are changing their patterns?”
The soldier’s brow knotted. “That’s the thing--the rest of them are holding to their patterns. Don’t know what brought this one this way.”
“Well, the air filters on these things make alright water filters if they’re new enough, so...thanks.”
The soldier smiled a little at the edge of his mouth but it disappeared fast. “Don’t thank me.”
“Sure thing, Roger.”
The soldier reeled, his lips tight in annoyance. “It’s not Roger.”
“Elmer. David.”
“Still a no.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Please do. I’m tired of not knowing my own god damn name.”
Sam laughed. Getting a rise of the soldier was one of the few joys he had left and he was determined to think of every absurd name he could think of to get a rise out of him.
“You still haven’t told us what we should call you in the meantime,” Sam said.
“Soldier is still fine,” the soldier said, a bit of annoyance in his voice.
“That’s kind of impersonal, don’t you think?”
“I’m fine with impersonal.”
Sam’s mouth went sideways. He wasn’t okay with that. The soldier walked away, toward the food stores and Sam followed close behind him.
“Jeffrey,” Sam said. “Calvin. I don’t know man, Ishmael?”
“I know Moby Dick, man,” the soldier said, taking a half a ration. “I know what things are.”
“Just not who you are.”
“Yeah, just the one thing.”
The soldier chugged a glass of water and turned away from Sam. Sam crossed his arms and stared at the soldier, as if he could bore a hole through him with his annoyance.
He’d figure him out.
The guy was goddamn spooky when he wanted to be.
The broad, intimidating figure was dragging a NOMAD sentry robot behind him with his metal arm. Sam told Alice to keep off her ankle and marched up to the soldier, glaring from under his brow.
“Man, what the hell?” Sam said once out of earshot of the kid. “What are you thinking, bringing this thing here?”
The soldier took off his goggles and mask to reveal skin lined with a dirt streak running across the nose and cheeks of a handsome but sorrowful face. He dropped the weight of the NOMAD with a thud and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
“I ripped out its trackers,” the soldier said. “We can use the parts.”
Sam put his hands on his hips. The guy was right. He hated when he was right. And if anybody could find all the trackers, it was this guy.
“We can,” Sam said. “But you didn’t have to go out of your way to do it.”
“I didn’t,” the soldier said. “He was getting too close to the camp. I threw the trackers away far from where I wrecked it. They’ll think I went in that direction. I didn’t like it wandering too close.”
“You think the sentries are changing their patterns?”
The soldier’s brow knotted. “That’s the thing--the rest of them are holding to their patterns. Don’t know what brought this one this way.”
“Well, the air filters on these things make alright water filters if they’re new enough, so...thanks.”
The soldier smiled a little at the edge of his mouth but it disappeared fast. “Don’t thank me.”
“Sure thing, Roger.”
The soldier reeled, his lips tight in annoyance. “It’s not Roger.”
“Elmer. David.”
“Still a no.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Please do. I’m tired of not knowing my own god damn name.”
Sam laughed. Getting a rise of the soldier was one of the few joys he had left and he was determined to think of every absurd name he could think of to get a rise out of him.
“You still haven’t told us what we should call you in the meantime,” Sam said.
“Soldier is still fine,” the soldier said, a bit of annoyance in his voice.
“That’s kind of impersonal, don’t you think?”
“I’m fine with impersonal.”
Sam’s mouth went sideways. He wasn’t okay with that. The soldier walked away, toward the food stores and Sam followed close behind him.
“Jeffrey,” Sam said. “Calvin. I don’t know man, Ishmael?”
“I know Moby Dick, man,” the soldier said, taking a half a ration. “I know what things are.”
“Just not who you are.”
“Yeah, just the one thing.”
The soldier chugged a glass of water and turned away from Sam. Sam crossed his arms and stared at the soldier, as if he could bore a hole through him with his annoyance.
He’d figure him out.