He was dead, and he knew it.

Around the time they kicked in his ribs, he tuned out the beating. If you been on the receiving end of enough punishment, you know to tune out the small stuff. Eyes, nose, teeth, bones... they're gonna take all that from you. You just gotta hold tight to that little piece in the centre. That bit, they can't take away.

He was vaguely aware that his wheels were burning, somewhere off to his left. His home. Everything he owned, save the shit they'd scavv'd, or the bits that lay strewn over the ground nearby. They'd pulled off his boots... fished through his pockets. He thought of the old, torn polaroid stuck in the dash, pictured it burning, melting. He rolled onto his stomach, started dragging himself toward the ditch, away from whatever they had in store for him. Someone grabbed him by the ankle, hauled him in a different direction. His eyes were so swollen, he couldn't tell where, or why.

Why. There was no 'why.' There was never a reason. Kill or be killed. Survive. It was reason enough. Take the shit you can from the guy who's weaker, or unlucky. He smelled the man long before he was flipped over and straddled. Could hear the unmistakable sound of steel leaving an oiled sheath. Smelled copper, and felt the cold, putrid spittle drip from the man's mouth. But he'd brought a knife to a gunfight. The tiny derringer slid into his grasp from its nook up his sleeve, and he aimed it by feel. When it went off, it left a neat hole in the man's neck, and he slumped over, hot blood jetting over the other man's countenance. Blessed unconsciousness followed...

@Nallore

Morgan had snuck out like she always did usually looking for some supplies nearby in the city that was a good hour or two away she had her rifle slung over her shoulder. It was always usually crawling with scavengers in the area that was why her little community never really ventured out into the city. They didn't really trust to many outsiders and rarely ever let them in, usually they'd blind fold them and then drove them a good few hours away and let them go then. They didn't kill anyone unless they actually did want to, as Morgan walked down an alleyway she could hear signs of a scuffle going on.

Morgan hid behind an old dumpster she made sure she wasn't spotted as she pulled out her rifle and looked through it's scope, seeing a man getting himself beaten and dragged. She thought for a few moments, playing with the thought of just abandoning him and continue with her search, before deciding to screw it she didn't want a potentially innocent man to end up dying. She waited for a few moments before pulling the trigger, as the bullet flew true shooting the scav in the throat, his dead body crumbled down onto the ground.

Luckily the other scavengers who were nearby didn't have any guns on them and they panicked pretty badly, and dropped what they were doing and fled down an alleyway a few blocks away. Morgan then waited a few seconds later to make sure that the coast was clear, and made her way towards the man lightly tapping him with her boot to make sure that he was alive or dead.

@deegee

The scene was a grizzly one, there was no denying it. A vehicle lay burning a hundred paces off, West. A bike lay on its side not far off. Parts and debris shifted in the ever-present sand and wind on the fissured blacktop. Blood dotted the scene, and the smell of burnt meat wafted along with the black smoke from the wreck. A quick glance around the ruined, half-toppled buildings close by showed several places that could be potential ambushes, waiting to happen. She needed to move soft and quiet, and not hang about this place too long.

The man she had shot was dead-gone. No doubt. Her shot had vaporized his Carotid, and he had bled out in less than a minute. Most of his life's essence lay pooling on the ground, and sprayed on the man that lay below him. The dead man wore mismatched boots, and the garb common to road-gangers. He had a knife at his belt, and a few pouches bulged with potential loot.**

For his part, J knew it was better to play possum than to give away any signs of life. Folk were less likely to waste a shot on an already dead man, than the living. Even freshly killed, neither corpse would reanimate for several hours. When she prodded him with her boot, he had every intention of lying still, giving away nothing. Unfortunately, J's body had other plans, despite his wanting to 'play dead.' His partial flail chest allowed only a gurgling of shallow breath, which he could not hide, despite his best efforts. His eyes were mostly swollen shut, but he could see enough to raise the derringer unsteadily, slowly aim it at this new threat.

The hammer clicked on an empty chamber. He didn't have the strength to do anything else but wait for death.

** - if Morgan checks the biker's body, she'll find one unspoiled can of food (no label) and three bloated cans of spoiled food, two live bullets (one will turn out to be .22, the other 9mm) and a dozen empty shell casings, a canteen of dirty water, a bit of jerky wrapped in a scrap of clean cloth, and two polaroids, one of a girl, the other of a beach view.

@Nallore

Morgan knelt down inspecting the man before her, her eyes turning to see his chest slowly rising up and down slowly and the gurgle of some breathing as well to. Morgan took a moment to look around the area, there was one store front that looked like they could hide out in for a little bit. She then heard a clicking sound of an empty gun, that or the safety was off she wasn't really sure honestly, but she wasn't going to take the chance and quickly took the gun from him stuffing it into her pack for now. She was a good person and always did want to try and help someone if they needed it and clearly the guy looked like he did.

Morgan grabbed the guys pack and slipped it over her free shoulder, and then slowly started to grab him and dragged him slowly towards the empty store front. She just hoped that the scavs didn't come after her again as she slowly dragged him inside and towards the back, sadly the store front didn't have much of supplies as Morgan set both packs down. She decided to inspect the guy's supplies, seeing the two bloated cans, which weren't good to eat really as well as the dirty bottle of water setting them aside.

Morgan the pulled out some clean water as well as a few bandages that she had on her and started to look at the wounds to see if any of them were life threatening while offering the water to the stranger. "You can stop playing dead you know. Just don't do anything funny." Morgan said to him as she lightly tapped him on the face.

@deegee

---

He hurt all over, but after making tiny movements of his arms and legs, he knew that none of it was life-threatening. All the limbs were still there at least. He could hear himself breathing - the rasp of injury or sickness obvious and - to his ears at least - loud. Loud enough to give away a position or make himself a liability. Ribs? Lung? He just knew it hurt when he tried to move or sit up. The rest - bruising, swelling, cuts and gashes... that would heal in time. You sh...should leave me. Can't fight like this. You know they'll just come back with more, sooner or later... He managed to open his left eye beyond a squint, and took in the woman who knelt over him. He pushed up, using every ounce of strength he could muster, on his good arm (the right one felt all disconnected and awkward) and managed to sit up against something hard behind him. He took the small bottle of water she held out, took a swig through cracked and split lips. The words came easier after that. They'll know we didn't get too far. I killed two of 'em, at least. They won't let that go. You don't owe me nothin'. Don't go laying your life on the line for mine. You go on... get out while you can. He felt for his pistol in its holster, found it missing. The long gun was gone too. Maybe out in the street, or worse, in the vehicle or taken.

Morgan looked at the badly beaten man before him as she occasionally looked over her shoulder getting a small view of the street through some shelves, the windows were broken or cracked in some places. She knew that leaving the man alone would be pretty much a death sentence which was something that she didnt like the idea of at all. "Yeah no, you don't deserve to be left to these guys." Morgan said to him, she knew that her parents and the rest of the community wouldnt really like the idea of her dragging in a complete stranger to die. "Hopefully they are slow enough to get back here." She said to him as she stared at his dislocated shoulder, she knew a little bit of first aide as she turned to him.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch just so you know." Morgan told him as she grabbed his arm and then quickly shoved his shoulder back into place with a sickening cracking sound. Seeing him looking for his handgun Morgan pulled it out from her pack and held it in front of him slightly just out of reach. "I trust you to not shoot me in the back alright?" Morgan said before handing it back to him and then grabbed some bandages and handed it to him. "I'm Morgan by the way, are you able to move?" She asked him.