Ride Along

Verizon Esports Stadium

In what used to be the Verizon E-Sports Stadium, a girl is surrounded by the sick. Red buboes that fill and lower slightly with every breath, loaded with blood and massively painful to the touch. The hunters were the first to get it, followed by the shamans, who were supposed to heal them after communing with the towers. Then were the fruit pickers, and then the warriors.

Finally, Nurgill, the chief of the tribe who strove for peace despite the harshness of the city jungle and the constant risk of slighting the two dominant gangs that fought for control of it, was rendered bedridden in the announcer's booth. All his sons and daughters caught it before him, save for an old healer who was blind and at least able to keep the sick fed and watered.

Isha, his youngest daughter, was neither the fittest nor strongest of her many siblings, but she was the smartest. She had managed to commune longer with the towers than any other shaman, and she was the only one who hadn't been afflicted. She tended to the wounded, gathering water and food while closing the gates of the Verzon tribe so they wouldn't be robbed or rolled over by either the Blackhearts or the Razorheads, who could easily navigate their minefields without volleys of arrows and pipe bombs to keep them at bay.

Then the buboes started to burst. More blood than a sacrificial pit dug by the Blackhearts exploding out of a person all at once.

Isha sought guidance from the only thing left: The Towers. The guiding voice that brought her tribe knowledge granted her a name, an outsider blessed with the ability to save her.

"He-elll-ll---ooo wastelanders! I ho-e you are -ll d-ing fin-, or a- least clinging to l-fe! Wel-ome to to-ight's sh-w of RUMORS-OF-THE-WAAAAAASTES!"

His voice was a man's, albeit a weak-sounding one: "Rumors of the Wastes." A long and illustrious name, possibly a wizard of one of the lores in the tomes they had preserved. She took her own name from a goddess of one of those tomes, a goddess of life.

She gathered the spare explosives, knives, firebombs, and the single strange plastic explosive that they had bartered for from roving traders in a leaf-stitched bag.

Her greatest project had been an instrument of the towers, a way to remotely detonate the plastic explosives using the towers' signals. It had taken her years of trading for knowledge and parts, but she had seen it work with a false tower she had taken down.

Isha sits down by her father one last time and says, "Father... can you hear me?"

The large man is barely able to open his eyes as he tries and fails to lift his hand. "Follow the signals... the towers... the towers... know the way..." he says before the pain overwhelms him.

The girl tearfully makes a final check of her things. She was the only chance her tribe had, and she had a few months before there would be no food or water left to feed the sick.

Her last look at the stadium she had called home in the jungle ruins was closed to keep up the appearance of strength for the Razorheads and Blackhearts. Isha said a prayer to the towers and left for the journey fate had chosen for her.

Gold Acres

(Music: https://youtu.be/8A4u3hgFO68)

The Goldacres was where she chose to start, her trek there being uneventful save for a few corrupted towers she removed from the skyline. When she arrived at the Trade Triangle's breadbasket, she was amazed.

But she was also very hungry.

She was unfamiliar with all of this. Strange metal devices everywhere, a tower she had to check to make sure was pure, or at least converted, lest this whole community wasn't subject to evil signals. Her stomach grumbles again, but her holy work cannot wait!

As she approaches the tower at the center of the main settlement, she looks around for branding and gets eyed by the hired guns sitting around it and watching for trouble. What they saw was a cute girl in a dress made of well-patterned leaves with a bag full of bombs inspecting a vital structure of the settlement. The two nod toward each other and approach, bastard rifles loaded.

"Hey you! Step off!" the first one, a skinny and twitchy man, says with authority to the tribal woman.

Isha turns around, her greenish hair flowing in the wind. "Is your tower blessed? I see no branding on it, but I need to make sure you're not corrupted," she says as she tries to keep looking, only for the other man, a dark and scary man with lots of scars, to grab her by the hair.

"We said step off. If the Blackhearts sent you, tell them not to send a better goddamn spy."

"Why would I be a Blackheart? They deny the power of the towers! They are fools and worse!" Isha says with a pout.

Her hair gets yanked again, and she's thrown onto the ground, away from the tower. "Whatever you are, you're not touching the tower with your bombs!" the scarred one shouts as they point guns at her. Isha gulps and walks off.

She was hungry and needed to be sure she was doing her job as a priestess.

It was nearing night as she wandered about, attracted by the smell coming from one particular vendor: a small place labeled "The Wooden Ladel" with an even smaller woman with tan skin wearing a white apron over her yellow shirt. The tribal's nostrils hunt her down as she stretches out and is almost ready to pack her things.

"Excuse me... I am very hungry and want to buy food from you," she says awkwardly toward the chef as she packs a large hunk of meat into a cooler. The woman in question looks at a clock, and her eyes reflect an annoyance that can only come from having to deal with a customer right before closing hours.

"Was just about to close up shop, but fine. Name's Kara; what'll it be?" she says grumpily as she greets her last customer for the day.

"Do you have any fresh meat? I've been traveling for a few days on gold berries and silver grapes since I haven't had time to hunt."

Kara sighs, pulls out the meat she just put away, and lights up her grill. "Alright, give me a few minutes. What's your name?" she asks, hoping it'll help pass the time.

"Isha, Princess of the Verzon Tribe," the girl says with a practiced and elegant bow, something she picked up from a book on etiquette a trader had offered her.

Kara's eyes flick over from the grill for a moment, and her eyebrows raise. "You're from the tribe with the metallic-colored berries? That's good produce. They work wonders for savory and sour notes."

Isha giggles a bit as she sits back down and eyes the monster steak as it gets sliced into a manageable portion and sizzles under the salt that is quickly added to it. "It's our main product of trade for a reason, Miss Kara. I've grown up mostly on the cobalt squashes and always used the gel from them to help me get to sleep."

"Sedative properties, huh? I'll keep that in mind." Kara says as she cooks the steak through. Isha's mouth waters at the rare delicacy, knowing it probably wasn't human meat.

"So, what brings you to the Goldacres? Got a crop you're selling personally?" Kara asks the girl.

"Can you keep a secret, Miss Kara?" Isha says in a whisper over the sizzling steak.

"...Depends on the secret, Isha," the chef says with narrowed eyes.

"It's critical to the survival of my people, and I need to find the man known as "Rumors of Wastes" to heal them from a plague... I'm the princess of my tribe, but I think I've hidden it well."

Kara eyes the well-constructed leaf dress and bits of jewelry adorning Isha's head. "...Yeah, you definitely ain't... a tribal princess." Kara says, trying to process the other part of the sentence. "You talking about Lance? You know that's a radio show, right?"

"...Ray-dio?" Isha asks as her steak is served up on a plate in front of her.

"...God, you're just as clueless as those fucking northerners." Kara sighs as she explains the basics of radios, refrigerators, and grills to Isha while the girl scarfs down the steak like a hungry dog.

"...In conclusion, yes, it does preserve food with the "signal" of cold, I guess," Kara says defeatedly as she notices Isha has been helping her pack up her things.

"Thanks, princesa, but sorry to say there's only about three doctors I know of who might be able to help you, and one might take an arm and a leg to pay."

"B-But I need my arms and legs for hunting! A strong wife can't lose her limbs!" Isha panics.

"Alright, next time we're going over what a turn of phrase is. ...Look, kid, I can't do much else for you. You should probably look for somewhere to stay for the night."

Isha offers the woman some exotic berries as payment before looking toward her: "I... I was wondering if that 'Bug-gii' you spoke of could go faster than feet. I'm quite limited on time..."

"...You want to ride along with me?" Kara says, surprised. "I guess it is that time when the Triangle pushes another run onto me. Hmm..."

Kara eyes the bag of bombs hanging from Isha's shoulder. If she's any good with them, she could work as a form of protection on the road. "If you're willing to work, that's fine; just, uh, don't get lost, okay? Not everywhere is as nice as the Goldacres."

Isha nods excitedly. "Your food is really good too! If I work, can I have more?" she asks with the excitement of a child.

Kara pushes some air out of her nostrils out of amusement.

The Tunnel

Isha could never be described as a quiet girl, especially as she listens to the radio like she's receiving a message from God himself, muttering to herself about towers and sacred signals. It's all gibberish that's easy to tune out for Kara, as it offers relief from the girl's endless questions about the world around her. Isha knows her way up to Steel Port well, being able to lead Kara down some hidden pre-war tunnels just large enough to fit her vehicle into.

It's a route the chef wouldn't have normally taken given the dangers held within the jungles, but she was convinced by Isha that time was of the essence. The sooner they can reach the "Rumors of Wastes", the sooner Isha can help cure her people.

"But yeah, that's about every important fucking name in the wasteland," Kara says, mentally exhausted by the seemingly boundless energy the strong and flexible tribal held. She hacked around the thinner plants of the jungle tunnel they were clearing for the buggy with her sharp throwing knives.

(Music: https://youtu.be/0xg1dvjgR3Q )

The green-haired princess smells the air and crouches near the ground as she digs in her bag for a firebomb. Kara sees a steely look on Isha's face, and she fumbles about for her rifle, not needing to be told when a fight is brewing.

A Blackheart raiding party, their knives, spears, and cobbled-together guns in tow, stand at both ends of the small tunnel as Isha pulls Kara into a darkly lit gap, the taller girl's strength pulling the short woman into the alcove.

"Come on out, princess... We just wanna show you a good time," one of the raiders snickers as he checks the chamber of his bastard rifle. It was a common tactic of Blackhearts to demoralize their foes before pouncing, but Isha was no prey animal. The girl lights the fuse of her molotov and throws it, beaning one of the leaders and coating him in gasoline, which quickly lights and starts the process of melting his flesh off. A few of his allies are caught in the blast, at best earning a glass shard in their upper bodies and at worst catching fire as the brush in the tunnel begins to burn.

Kara sprays around the corner to the other side of the tunnel to keep the other pincer at bay while Isha takes one throwing knife in her hand and another in her mouth to finish off the Blackhearts on the smoke-filled side of the tunnel. Her movements are those of a well-practiced huntress, as she lands her throws with little issue despite the choking smoke.

The traveling chef secures another magazine in her rifle as she starts taking more precise bursts at the raiders trying to plunder her buggy, using her best aim to avoid knicking her vehicle with 5.45 rounds. Isha rolls out of the smoke with a pipe bomb prepped to throw at a charging group of spear-armed raiders in mutant deer skins, sending them flying as Kara has to put her hands over her ears and take cover from the shrapnel. The victims of the bomb scream in pain as they look toward their lost limbs and leaking blood. Some are resilient enough to still raise their weapons, only earning a swift knife to the body, which saps the rest of their life out of them. Isha lets another pipe bomb be her victory cry as the raiders are sent running to shame in their tribe of savage maniacs.

Kara digs some shrapnel out of her buggy's chasis as her ears still ring. "If you're gonna be traveling with me, be careful with the bombs, or I'm gonna start charging you for repairs," she chastises the younger but taller girl, who nods.

"Apologies. Sometimes I get a bit... excited in fights. Especially with the vile Blackhearts or the demon-worshipping Razorheads."

Kara nods lazily, checking on the trade goods, and then starts her buggy up. "Come on, we need to get to at least the Tech Mines before dark. Razorheads will send better than some bastard rifles and spears," she says with wary eyes as Isha hops in, and they speed down the overgrown streets of the city jungle to Port Steel.