[color=00ff00]”Ah, shit.”[/color]

Johnny blinked sand out of his eyes, kicked up as the Striders swerved off Highway Three and into the dunes on the horizon. There was a hill between here and there, it was about as far as the Striders would reasonably take him. He sure as shit wasn’t walking that far, so it was worth the cash. He checked his compass and took off.

Traveling through the desert on foot was a dangerous thing. Back in the old days, they had these things called “firefighters.” They ran into burning places and saved people, rarely ever dying because they were so good at it. Johnny walking through a desert on an area full of bandits and the occasional mutant-hating shithead was like one of those firefighters of days past. He liked danger. That shit didn’t scare him.

The sun beat down and cast wavy mirages across the houses. Sully’s Rest was a trading post, the sort of place people didn’t shoot up because then it would be on people like Johnny to clean up the culprits. The old man reached into his satchel and rearranged a few things. There was a badge he’d knicked off his latest target, a man who’d been a Republic guard but went off the deep end for reasons Johnny really didn’t give much of a shit about. They wanted the guy dead, not alive.

He made sure that was at the very bottom of his things. 

And then the old mutant strolled through Sully’s Rest like he’d bought the place and named it [i]Johnny’s Coffin.[/i] He’d been through here more times than he could count, and every time he walked in, there was always some punk who sneered at his green skin and the fact that he looked like he crawled out of the ground. The occasional techie stopping in to strike out for the ruined out east, a few Striders brave enough to be this close to civilization, maybe even that Pete kid would shoot him.

He got a few of those looks today, just like any other day.

[color=00ff00]”Ain’t got nothin’ for none’a you,”[/color] Johnny rasped at a shopkeeper who didn’t like him. [color=00ff00]”Wheel that ass’a yours indoors, boy.”[/color]

He got a middle finger in return, and took a left for the Dine-Out, where the food was actually worth a damn. There really were a lot of people out this way today. The Highway must’ve been backed up, he figured.

The door swung open, and he reached for his chips. Lots of people didn’t like mutants, but money was still money, and he was a fair tipper when someone didn’t poison a plate of food. Good food was always something to take seriously out in these parts.

[color=00ff00]”Mornin’ sunshine,”[/color] he croaked, grabbing a seat up front. Johnny sat down a generous stack of Republic chips. [color=00ff00]”Lemme have a sand worm stew, keep the change.”[/color]