Kara directs her buggy through the crowd at the Big Crossing. Around her in all directions are stalls with armed guards, road-weary pedestrians, and a menagerie of vehicles - some mechanical, some beast-driven. She keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on the handle of her knife. A snarl parts her lips.
It's the time of the season for her trading circuit and this slow-down is eating into her schedule. Her eyes keep scanning the faces going by her both north and south along the highway, but it's not just out of wariness towards all the people. She needs help for the next leg of her journey. It would be suicidal to go it alone.
The cage around her buggy nudges a stumbling drunk out of her way like a cowcatcher. He complains loudly and slurs his words, and predatory eyes catch their attention on him and off of the storage boxes built into Kara's ride. The drunk goes to sling his nearly-emptied ceramic pot of high-proof alcohol and regrets his impulse just a little too late - he swats it in his attempt to recover the pot and ruins its arc. It smashes against the road and swiftly begins evaporating.
Kara rumbles away from his curses and the crowd shifts around her. It thins out enough that she can see the kind of familiarity she was hoping for: a group of four are lounging in and around a wooden wagon meant to be drawn by a beast, and a monowheel assemblage of rust and tubing has been lashed to the split yoke. There's a sandwich board facing the road with simple, bold lettering.
A scrawny teenager is cooking on an open fire in an iron pot, using a rebreather stuffed with chemically treated rags. An airy hood and cloak keeps the sun off her skin while she works. A figure is beneath the ramshackle engine with old-world mechanical tools in hand. They're hard to make out, except for the frequently re-patched boots sticking out from beneath the block. Within the shade of the wagon is a massive figure covered in veils. Their shape is obscured by all the layers, and the face is deeply shadowed within their own hood. Finally, a well-maintained combat robot affects a lounge on the side of the wagon. With a dangerous custom laser rifle in hand, his camera-dominant head openly tracks every member of traffic that passes close to the little camp.
Kara knows this group. She doesn't let the relief show on her face. Better to keep her cards close to her admittedly small chest. She rolls off the side of the road, spooking a cage full of chickens in a rickshaw coming the other way, and kills the engine once she gets close to the wagon.
Three heads turn towards her when Kara forces herself up in the low seat of her buggy and slaps the outside of her driver-side door. The bot and the girl give her little more than a silent scan before going back to what they were doing. The whole wagon rocks when the figure inside leans out of the canvas and addresses the mechanic tinkering at the front.
When he speaks, which sounds like knives sharpening against each other next to a babbling brook full of eels, the sound comes not from within his shadowed hook but from within the obscured chest beneath the veils. "I do believe this one is for you."
Kara can hear steel tools clinking against each other and the scraping of dirt. A woman with grease on her hands and dust on her back squirms out from under the engine block and plucks out an already-dirty rag from one of her pockets to clean herself with. She squints against the sun glare, which does not work against her pretty face the way Kara's impatient snarling contorts her own.
Seeing who it is, Heli Matharom breaks out into a sparkling white grin. She pushes herself to her feet and saunters over, full of expectation and ease. Kara forces herself to frown. Heli uses the filthy rag to lean against the hot metal roll bars of the buggy so she can use her own shadow to cut down on the sun and look down at Kara normally.
Even if she weren't sitting, Kara would still be looked down on by Heli. Neither women are that tall, but Kara is neotenously short. This is hardly the only feature of hers that's more juvenile than the mercenary. Heli has stripped away her armored vest and road jacket in order to work easier, and Kara is forcing herself to look at Heli's face. Even still, Kara is distracted by Heli's sweaty undershirt and how ineffectually it's hiding the bigger woman's much bigger assets. Jealousy is only third or fourth most prevalent in the feelings causing the distraction.
Heli's backcountry twang cuts into Kara's thoughts. "Howdy, Lĕk. Good t'see you 'gain. This a personal visit?" She points a thumb backwards at the teen stirring a pot of mystery stew. "Doc could use some'v yer expertise, as always." Behind Heli, the girl makes a lightly offended come on gesture with a shrug of her hands.
"No," replies Kara. "I thought I'd offer you the chance to come along on another trading run. Normal fee and terms."
Heli's face doesn't lose the smile, but it does turn from a jovial grin to a more professional, close-lipped expression. "Sure. Anythin' fer my favrite customer, Kara." She turns halfway towards the group with a thoughtful look. After a few moments of silent cogitation, she slaps the bar with her rag then turns back to address Kara again. "Half price, and we have to take your ride. Y'caught me mid-tinker and it would take too long to finish up, so I'll tell Lilly how to patch it and they'll meet me'n Oh-too later wherever you drop us off. Half the group, so half the price. Fair?"
Kara leans forward to look past Heli's waist and look at the other three. The buggy is a two-seater, so if it's just her driving, then she'd rather take just the one person. As if reading her mind, Heli adds, "He doesn't need a seat. It'll be fine!"
Kara looks up at Heli's face and searches it for a lie or a trick. Heli smiles back, full of good-natured innocence and a self-assured twinkle in her eyes. Kara sighs. "Alright. Get ready and get in."
"Hotdamn!," hollers Heli. She claps sharply when she spins on her heel and walks towards her group. "Payin' job," is the only part of the announcement that Kara can make out. There's some quiet talking and a little bit of nervous argument between Heli, Lilly, and the bot IRU-O-270, but in the end, Heli wins out, the girls share a hug, and the mercs climb into their wagon to gather their gear.
By mid-afternoon, the buggy is kicking up dust as it blasts northward across the rough desert and towards the purple hills at the horizon. Even with all the added weight, the buggy's perfectly tuned suspension is unburdened. The tires create a long cloud trailing in their speed.
Heli is singing an old-world folk tune about the arcane practice of speed limits from her bucket seat at Kara's side. She can barely be heard over the rushing wind and the sounds of the motor. Behind them both, watching the opposite way, Oh-too has its feet braced and its arms hooked around the roll bars. It's sitting on the food bins. A finger is on the trigger of its rifle, and the gun is held level at its seated hip-joint with mechanical precision.
The old-world road is long gone on this stretch of Kara's trade circuit. Still, she knows the path well, and has no fear of going astray with Heli on hand. Her buggy was purpose-built for off-road speed like this, and she's cruising below top speed so she can keep watch for animal dens that mistook the packed trail for a sturdy dig site.
"♪Take my license, and all that j-..." Heli stops her song mid-lyric. She sits up completely, alert. Grabbing for the flamethrower resting easy between her legs, she gives a sharp whistle through her teeth. Oh-too inspects his weapon in less than a second. Heli checks the valves on her gun without looking.
"Keep y'eyes on th'road. I'm hopin' it's bad weather."
"Outside of scanner range," advises her robot companion.
Kara's eyes are wide. Her knuckles are white as she clutches the wheel. She's staring at the ground ahead, but she's not fully seeing it.
"What's going on?"
"Dust clouds comin' at us." Heli stands in the speeding buggy, with one hand on the roll cage and one foot on the top of the door. She turns to look over Kara's head. "Both sides."
The minutes go too slowly. Kara's heart is pounding. This is what the mercs are for. There's ways out of this. Worst happens, maybe they'll need a chef?
"Big heat in the clouds," chimes in Oh-too.
¡Odio estas colinas! ¡Odio estas colinas! ¡Odio estas colinaaaaas!
As the storm of kicked up dust and sand gets closer, the shapes within resolve into view. Bandits, reavers, dustpirates, raiders, and outlaws are hard-riding their truks, motorcycles, dragsters, and less identifiable vehicles. There's screaming, laughing, howling, cheering, jeering, and the roar of tortured metal and burning fuel. Against her will, Kara joins in the screams as they come closer. Unlike the other cars, hers are in pure terror.
The buggy hops and thumps as it hits uneven terrain and plows over and through.
Heli knows from experience that Oh-too is ready to start blasting. It doesn't take intimidation tactics lightly. She has to yell out the "Hold on!" above the cacophony. Thanks to her modified lungs and Oh-too's militarized design, neither of them has to worry about breathing in the artificial sandstorm. Kara is not so lucky, and she's a prized client; Heli gets back into her seat and hurries to wet a bandana - mostly clean, except for being used to wipe up Heli's sweat and let to dry - with some of her own precious drinking water. She leans over and roughly ties it so it covers Kara's nose and mouth.
"Keep goin'! Don' crash! If we stop movin', they'll swarm!"
The bandana bubbles and flattens as Kara breathes hard. Fine dust particles are already starting to change its color as they become trapped in the moisture and the weave.
The bandits are clearly getting a kick out of Kara's fear. A motorcycle careens close and the filthy patchy-headed rider flicks his tongue around rapidly as he grunts. He veers away, laughing his head off. Other vehicles fire bullets into the air, wave around scrap-metal hooks and blades, or hold in formation as bandits jump between different rides or get into fist fights.
"I don't know if it's your meatback juices making y-" begins Oh-too impatiently, but Heli cuts him off.
"There's somethin' goin' on here! Hold on, damn you!" Heli whips her head back and forth, trying to figure out why they aren't fully ventillated right now. She half-rises and points straight ahead.
"There! See it??"
Kara leans forward, as if getting a few inches closer will do anything. Oh-too turns his entire torso completely backwards to look. All three spot it: a broad line of white chalk has been dumped purposefully in the dirt. The squad of motley vehicles gun their engines to the maximum level, and in her fear, Kara has already clamped her feet to the accelerator's floor.
"Longhai lewt aw'! It's a fuckin' death race!" With every passing moment, the start line slides closer. Heli scrambles in the buggy on all fours for her tied-down bag. She swiftly pulls out a red fuel tank with a white skull painted on it. Whistling again, Oh-too glances back, then grabs her by the back of her clothes and wedges itself in to counterbalance.
Heli hangs outside of the buggy, razor stones and course sand slicing by swiftly by her face. Her expression is in a rictus as she squints against the debris and sucks hot, poisonous air through her teeth. She's reaching between a massive, spinning tire and the snarling engine weighing down the rear of the buggy. The start line is about to cross under the nose of the lead vehicles in the pack - and the buggy is just behind the vanguard.
Heli speedily jams the pressurized fuel canister between the buggy floor and a support strut for the super-suspension. Moments later, she has the fuel line cut and taped so the canister - one half of her special flamethrower brew - is spliced in. In those precious moments, a line of gasoline is left in the sand like the buggy has pissed itself.
Some of the bandits laugh. "Huphup," yells Heli as loud as she can over the noise. Oh-too whips her up in the same moment Heli busts the canister's valve, and the buggy's engine snarls and screams. Blue flames erupt from its exhaust and the pipes start to glow red. The insane momentum causes Heli to flip wildly over Oh-too's head and she slams into the roll cage, catching it under her armpits, and holding on for dear life. Kara is visibly crying as she, too, clings to the steering wheel. Her voice is hoarse from all the yelling.
Oh-too is forced to let go. The starting line whips under the line of cars behind the buggy even as the buggy rockets forward at dangerous speeds. Heli's legs whip out, kicking wildly in open air. She starts to laugh.
The bandits begin firing crossways, catching each other in flash of steel, the clank of harpoons, the rattle of bullets, the gouts of flame. Deathscreams and murderjeers drown out the engines. The buggy pulls into the front of the pack, leaving the violence momentarily behind.
The vehicles that were in front don't like that. Buttons and levers get activated and their own fuels get juiced. The race quickly turns into the three groups: the ones that noss, the ones that can't, and the flaming wrecks of dying bandits that are scrapped in the wake of the first volleys.
"Weapons hot, meatbags!" Oh-too leans back to keep position and raises the laser rifle to a shoulder brace. Bursts of hot light zap through the air. The biker from earlier fails to dodge out of the way and his head explodes like a grape in a microwave, sending sizzling meat in a firework eruption in every direction. Burnt bone shards spray some of the other racers, and Heli gets her feet against steel again and fights her way back into stable bracing within the buggy. She howls in celebration for Oh-too.
The motorcycle, now riderless, almost immediately destabilizes and rolls onto one side and crushes the body beneath its massive weight. Like a flaming log, it slams into the front wheel of an armored truk with spikes all over its bumpers, causing it to kick up onto two wheels. A heavy gun in its bed unbalances the ride and the riders desperately try to bail. They spatter against the high speed ground. The pileup is inevitable. Vehicles turn to the left and the right, losing speed, and struggle to correct again.
Heli climbs back into her seat and straps in. She picks up her flamethrower Embertusk again and readies it on her rider-side door. Waiting for a broadside.
Kara jerks the wheel, catching the edge of a ditch in the dirt. The buggy hops one wheel briefly but comes down on all fours again. A car behind her has to go the long way and loses even more speed. It's behind the lead pack. It's in the open brawl again.
She can hear more laser fire behind her. In the corner of her vision, she can see flashes of light as Heli ignites leads into molotovs and tosses them into the wind. Eruptions of flame explode in the buggy's wake, forcing even more space out of the other racers.
Like it or not, she's in the bandits' sick game.
A curving cliffside in the foothills ahead of her forces a screeching drift out of her spin of the wheel. Kara has a foot on the brake and another on the gas. She accelerates out of the end of her turn. A shadow catches her eye.
Kara looks up, just for a moment. Another buggy, the driver wearing a leather cap with wildly waving springs shaped like flea antennae, is driving on the foothill at the top of the cliff. The filth-caked bandit is laughing uproariously, and silently in the noisesome wind. Kara looks back at the path. It's barely more than a scrubby deer trail. It needs everything she's got.
Suddenly, the sound of wheels launching from the earth roars in her ears. In a moment of panic, she's irrationally afraid it's her own buggy somehow. But no: it's the clifftop buggy. It's launched over the bend through the hill, aiming for a short straight in front of Kara. It slams against the ground, bounces, sheds wrecked autoparts, and fishtails back up to speed.
Kara's going to crash into it from behind. She slams the buggy into a hard right.
"¡Mierdaaa!" Kara's voice cracks as she screams, her eyes wrenched tightly closed. The buggy whips in a tight circle. A dragster clips a rear wheel and completes the turn as it races past, pointing the buggy ahead again. Kara feels Heli's warm hand on her thigh. Heli forces down her knee. The accelerator maxes out again. The buggy screams.
"Keep us alive, Lĕk!" The comment and the acceleration both serve to snap Kara's eyes open again.
"¡Vete al carajo si no vas a usar mi nombre! ¿Cómo se volvió tan loco?" Kara is whining and rambling as her emotions overflow. Vehicles are ahead of her. Vehicles are behind. Guns and other weapons surround the group and huge bullets buzz past. That no one has gotten shot yet is pure chance, all miracle.
"โอ้ เราจะเลิกใช้ภาษาอังกฤษแล้วเหรอ?"
"49 20 61 6d 20 6e 6f 74 20 61 20 74 72 61 6e 73 6c 61 74 6f 72 2e," says Oh-too, unimpressed. He finishes reloading.
"Bro! Skeet!" Heli has unstrapped again and throws a block of grayish clay as hard as she can, high and behind the speeding buggy. Oh-too effortlessly tracks its arc and waits until it nears the cliff face. The laser ignites the chemical explosive, causing it to explode into a powerful fireball. The cliff collapses in a flood of sliding dirt and shattering sandstone. A dark, thorny tree crushes a car behind and it folds in half. The riders die instantly.
Two more charges get lobbed into the air, and two more blasts collapse the path behind Kara. Debris seals it off. The race now only has her, dead last, and the few that passed her up in the spin.
She focuses on slaloming around the curves of the trail. She can hear the racers in front of her. Then suddenly, the noise cuts down. She guns through a last bend and it opens into a wider valley between the hills.
Before her, the damaged buggy, another person sealed into a driver-only cab on treads, and a burn-scarred biker chick with a guy riding backwards behind her. He has a spiked helmet on. Kara creeps up on the buggy at high speed. It coughs a green flame from its tailpipe and she has to whip to the side to get out of the blast of heat. Shiny caltops dump out of a hatch at the rear of the damaged buggy and the metal hazards bounce on the packed dirt road. Kara keeps drifting off the trail to dodge them and slides onto the rough ground at its side. The buggy jerks and bumps, but she keeps it open to its fullest speed. The enemy buggy rushes ahead and sideswipes the bike.
The controlling biker kicks the door of the bandit buggy, making the bike list to the side and avoid the crush. The buggy corrects its bearing and goes for another smash, but the burned woman was ready for it. She pops into a wheely and sends a blinding cloud of dirt behind her back wheel, slowing down enough to be behind one buggy but ahead of Kara's. The bike is on the trail and Kara is in the valley. The bike maneuvers to attack Kara and the mercs.
Stupid choice. Oh-too sizzles laser shots into her back and the wounds pop like boils. The man on the back makes a leap for the buggy, as forceful boarding was something he was planning on anyway. The dead woman falls off the motorcycle and it falls into the dirt. The helmeted man goes to grab for Kara and Heli spears his hand with the gnarly blade fastened to the end of Embertusk. Kara can feel blood on her neck and she screams sharply in surprise.
To save time, Heli drops Embertusk right there in the buggy, between the seats. She lunges for the invader. He goes to headbutt her, but she ducks her head to the side.
Then she clenches the bridge of his nose between her teeth like an animal. Everyone in the buggy can hear the crunching of bone and the tearing of flesh. He screams mindlessly and bats his arms around as hard as he can, beating and shoving Heli off of him and pinning her against the back of the seat she was just in. He goes to strangle her in pain and rage. She brings her knee up hard - not against his steel-cupped groin, but against the soft, bare, hairy spot right over his bladder. He yowls again and his dirty jeans become muddy. Heli shoves him back with both feet planted against his hips and he stumbles backwards, slips on a slick patch under his boot, and tumbles off the buggy to be caught under the wheel. It kicks only briefly over the lump.
Oh-too shrugs and blasts the carcass for good measure. "You people are so wet," it says with clear disdain.
Ahead of Kara, the other buggy is trying to pass the lead driver and his strange vehicle. Like a listless iceberg, it idles to the side, and the buggy's tire snaps and flings shredded rubber behind itself. The axle collapses and the corner bends up sharply, then kicks free. Unstable on the three wheels, the already heavily damaged buggy goes into a death roll, the driver being broken and smashed doll-like in the tumble.
Heli goes off raw instinct. She pitches another block of explosive ahead with one hand and reaches onto her combat webbing with the other. Her thumb finds the remote detonator at just the right moment. A signal goes out. The block, tumbling beneath the rolling scrap of flaming death, ignites and explodes.
A plume of black smoke and dark soil blinds Kara entirely. A great mass of screaming steel tumbles over their heads. The ex-buggy, launched by the explosive, barely misses them. Oh-too idly watches it go past. It enjoys watching the lump of twisted and slagged metal dig another divot into the road. Oh-too looks down to check the ammo readout on its gun. It's low, but that's fine.
Kara's face is blackened by soot, except where the mostly dry and definitely caked bandana is covering her face. Her eyes are red from not blinking enough and from all the irritations stinging them. She's feeling wild. Dreamlike. It's almost over! She's almost won the....
She blinks. Hypocrites that they are, her eyes hate that. Kara takes her foot off the accelerator and the buggy begins to gradually lose speed. The weaponless tracked vehicle keeps rolling along at high velocity. Its driver clearly flips Kara the bird. She doesn't care. She rolls to a stop.
"Why the fuck was I trying to win?"
Heli, grinning red, shrugs.
"Any landing you walk away from is a success," says Oh-too inappropriately. It has the quality of a pre-recorded audio clip, with a chipper delivery that doesn't match his normal remarks. Heli laughs and leans way back to punch him in the shoulder.
"Let's find some place to hide. I should give yer girl a once-over." Heli swigs drinking water around in her mouth and spits it, pink and foamy, out of the buggy.
Kara groans. "I need to see how much product I lost."
Heli laughs and ruffles Kara's hair. "Buck up, buttercup. You got silver place."
"You got last place," clarifies Oh-too.
"Shut it! I got out alive!"
And Kara gingerly directs her slowly rolling buggy off the path to look for a place to lose her trail.