Twix leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle of clear alchohol, well it looked clear-ish through the murky glass of the bottle.

"Flint heads up!" he shouted as he tossed it underarm -so as not to pull his chest- across the room.

He grabbed another bottle from behind the bar and sat down to drink and eat rabbit, his feet knocked against some obstruction and when he glanced down he noticed a brown briefcase of some kind, Twix wasn't feeling overly curious at this moment so he just kicked it under his chair, it made a heavy thump as it tipped over.

Adrian observed Victor as he explained to Adrian how his rifle worked, but felt rather upset when it seemed that finding the rounds to it wouldn't be the easiest task. But for now that was the least of his worries, as out of the door a man in full body-armour fell through the door, head first down onto the floor, not too unlike what Adrian had done earlier that night.

Flint was the first one of them to check the man, and since he was so quick to ask for some booze to clean his wounds, it was clear that the man was still alive, if barely. Adrian started walking towards the counter, when Twix grabbed a bottle and threw it to Flint before Adrian could, so Adrian kept walking. "I think the bar-keeper has some medical stuff down here, let me check. By the way, name's Adrian Whitestone, good to see that the town hasn't gone to shit yet." He said out to the others as he jumped over the counter. But instead of landing on his feet, his left foot hooked itself onto a pole that supported the roof, making Adrian fall down, on his face, again. "If there is a God up there, then he hates me guys..." He muttered, getting back on his feet and starting to search the cabinets for a first-aid kit. He only found booze, alcohol, more booze and alcohol, ashtrays and more of the usual tavern stuff, until he quickly rose up, holding a box up. "Found it!"

Adrian was careful, and smart for once, to walk around the counter this time to give the box to Flint, when he heard the thump underneath Twix's chair and saw the satchel lying there. "Hey, what's that?" He asked no-one really, and just took up the satchel to check it. "Somebody must have left it here when the bandits atta..." Adrian's eyes opened wide as he saw what was in the bag, not really believing it. "It must be a couple hundred dollars in this satchel!"

After checking no bullets where still lodged inside the man, Flint caught the alcohol and began pouring it on the wounds. If the man was awake this would sting like hell. The wounds cleaned as well as they where going to, Flint began to use the thread and needle on the bigger gashes. The wounds seemed to be healing themselves but Flint could at least help the process faster. As he began Adrian found a leather satchel "It must be a couple hundred dollars in this satchel!" Adrian proclaimed excitedly. Flint finished the wound he was working on and turned to Adrian "Someone with that amount of money either stole it or earned it and in both cases I don't want to be in the way of them and their money. My suggestion would be to leave it alone and wait to see if the owner is still alive before you start your shopping frenzy." Flint said his words of advise then went back to stitching up what was left of the man beside him.

As Viktor handed the rifle back to the man, a heavily armored fellow came stumbling through the door and falling straight through the ground. Viktor observed the man who appeared to be named Flint rush over to the breathing corpse and begin inspecting him. Viktor stood up and walked over next to the medical scene in case a helping hand was needed. When Adrian came over with the first aid kit Viktor took it from him and began handing the necessary supplies to Flint when he needed them. A few moments later Viktor heard Adrian exclaim "It must be a couple hundred dollars in this satchel!"

Viktor thought about it for a moment, and after Adrian's remark about money Viktor decided he should chime in. "Whoever the owner was, it is probably he is dead now. If you fellows don't mind, this ragged town could sure as hell use the money so we aren't risking our lives entering the walls. If you know where to shop, you would be surprised at some of the things you could get with that kind of money. Scare the bandits straight out of the region." Viktor finished as he handed the remaining thread to Flint. He got off the ground and proceeded over towards Adrian to look at the contents of the satchel.

Garsin slowly woke up after a while as Flint was working on one of the numerous stitches on his body. He felt like he still couldn't move, trapped within himself. He closed his eyes as the alcohol made contact with a fresh wound. "Some chinks....in the armor, eh?" he said between slight breaths. there was a bit of silence from Garsin. "Sorry for.....the trouble..." He kept his eyes closed. The effort do do anything, even breathing, seemed to take a toll on him. so he was quiet from then on.

With a very heavy heart, Myra reached the front door of the Pumphouse in order to hopefully reclaim her money. Best case scenario was that nobody found it and she just grab it and slip out of there. Worst case scenario... Goodness, Myra didn't want to think about it. She wouldn't know what to do because people were generally conceited and self-centered, Myra was too, but a tough world only spawns tough children. She let out a big exhale as she gently turned the door knob and calmly let herself in to the already populated bar.

It must be a couple hundred dollars in this satchel! Oh shit.

This was quite possibly the worst case scenario to happen. Not only did some someone find, it was that loser smelly guy from before. Frustrated but not exploding, Myra turned around and began lightly bashing her head against the door. Do I go and claim it? What if he says no? Do I threaten him? He has his friends with him what will they do? S-should I just leave? Her hand was gently wrapped around the doorknob as she contemplated her next course of action while listening to everyone weigh in on the money.

What that last guy said just seemed to irk, Myra. She certainly wasn't dead and this shit sack of a town didn't deserve her wealth. She earned that! There was no way she was going to see that money squandered! "No..." Myra whispered. "No. No. No! No!!" She got louder until she shouted her last no. The place fell silent and pretty much all eyes were on her now. She took a deep breath trying to preserve herself. "That there is my money." She took a few gradual steps towards the smelly man from before. "And I ain't dead so you have no right to that. I worked for that. I bleed for that..." She wasn't yelling but her voice was tense and injected with hints of anger. She pointed at the smelly man and then turned her hand over and extended it like a beggar would for money or food. "I'd like my money back."

Flint was nearly finished on the man as he spoke to him "No worries you just owe me" Flint joked. Taffy went to leave she passed a woman who quietly walked in. "No..." The woman whispered. "No. No. No! No!!" She got louder until she shouted her last no. Flint looked to the odd woman as she began to explain."That there is my money." She took a few gradual steps towards Adrian. "And I ain't dead so you have no right to that. I worked for that. I bled for that..." She seemed really annoyed. The woman pointed at Adrian and then turned her hand over and extended it like a beggar would for money or food. "I'd like my money back." Flint was slightly surprised "Prove it" Flint said loudly as he slowly stood up. Wiping his blooded hands on a cloth beside him. "How do we know you didn't just over hear us talking about the satchel before and decide to take It for yourself." Flint continued. "You would think that someone with that much money would have a guard of sorts." At that moment there was a gunshot outside and Taffy was yelling foul obscenities towards a large man who had bags of items taken from her shop.

Twix climbed over the bar and turned to face the group, he pulled his gun and loudly set it down in clear view on the bar keeping his hand next to it. Twix was grinning widely but you'd be a fool to miss the serious gleam in his eyes.

"I say it's mine" He spoke loudly and clearly so that his voice would carry around the room.

His exclamation was met with a moments silence, Taffy's cursing from outside being the only sound.

Jason suddenly realized just how tremendously stupid his last comment had been. The street they were stood on was in complete darkness more or less and even on the couple of remaining streets that had light sources on it would still be far too dark to look him over for wounds. With that simple fact in his mind Jason just stood there listening and thinking for a moment. There were no gunshots ringing out any more. The whole town seemed to be completely silent. It was the silence that made Jason suddenly remember the loudness of the saloon earlier on.

“Let's go to the Pump House! If the fight is done, and it sounds like it is, I could personally use a drink. I reckon a lot of other people have thought the same. Let's go regroup there... Once again, thanks for saving my life man.”

With that said Jason began walking, or rather creeping to the Pump House. He was still very aware that there may have still been one or two bandits left in the town. They could have been hiding or maybe they were setting up shop on top of one of the many buildings in town looking to snipe anyone foolish enough to let their guard down so soon. Jason was no fool though, he quite literally crept to the Pump House, his footsteps were silent and he kept to the shadow whenever he could, looking around every corner and stopping to inspect every sound. Soon he had decided to simply search from place to place, doing his best to make sure that every last bandit in the town was dead or dying. He found a lot of bodies, mostly it seemed the bandits had been on the worse end of the slaughter but there were a fair few corpses that seemed to be citizens too. Jason couldn't afford to be sentimental though, any body he found he searched. By the time he was done he had a few .357 rounds, a couple of .38's in which he loaded into his revolver, a bottle of Jamison and twelve more dollars. Finally he made it to the saloon without incident and just as the redhead woman he had seen earlier did. Apparently some bloke had found $200 in a satchel and interestingly enough she claimed that it was hers. No wonder she had stuck out earlier. It wasn't just that she was pretty, though she certainly was, she definitely wasn't native to the town either.

Jason would of guess that most of the inhabitants of Aurora's End had never seen $200 at one time in their entire lives. Getting the same bad feeling he always did when in a room full of people Jason moved to one of the corners and made sure he had some cover. He was suddenly a lot more thankful for the shotgun he had found, in a situation like this the weapon was extremely deadly and almost invaluable. He still didn't like the whole set of circumstances however. Money had a very bad way of making people do stupid things. This was almost instantly confirmed when some bloke suddenly and literally announced that the cash was his. The statement alone made Jason tighten his grip on the shotgun. He was becoming more and more certain that there would be more death tonight. The bandits didn't seem to occur to these people any more but their adrenaline and in some cases blood lust were still running high. Things already seemed destined to get ugly.

It was funny, because even though they had all been at least partially destroyed in the various Particle Wars and the ensuing fires and inhumanity; cities across the country still attracted good and bad people. As Thalia cautiously traversed the streets of one such specimen she observed signs of good and evil all over. Gang signs scrawled on the walls next to a travelling merchant, caving in to a group of urchin children and giving away ancient sweets for free. Scraggly grass and hardy bushes had pushed through the scorched tarmac to create a strange alloy of man and nature. Harsh dust clouds occasionally whipped through the streets, followed by fresh air and the smell of ash.

Thalia had found a mother and daughter eking out a meager existence in the bombed remains of a fire station. A line of washing had been hung between the melted husks of two fire engines; the first she saw of the pair was when a crossbow was prodded into her back by a girl of perhaps twelve. Thalia had seen the fear etched all over her face, but eventually persuaded them that she meant no harm. After producing a few of the trinkets she made a habit of picking up from her travels of the wasteland, they both smiled widely and bid her join them. They disappeared quickly into the dark halls of the fire station, picked clean by a generation of looters.

After clambering dexterously up some ruined stairs, the duo ushered her into their living quarters, a small room open to the air on the second floor of the fire station. The whole building creaked but the view out of the gigantic rent in the wall was breathtaking. The bare bones of the city lay before her; sitting like a skeleton in an iron throne. Trails of smoke trailed into the air like flags, when Thalia asked what they were the pair replied that they came from gangs burning prisoners on heaps of tires. Yikes. It was hours after, when they were talking in hushed voices over a hot bowl of rabbit stew that Thalia heard the tramp of boots directly outside.

“What’s that?” She asked, creeping to the parapet. “Raiders, looks like they’re going to Aurora’s end.” The little girl answered, sidling up next to her. Thalia looked down and saw scores of men in dusters and assorted scrap armour covering the road below. “Is that a town?” Thalia asked, looking through a pair of binoculars with one cracked lens which was hung up on a hook. “Yes, about forty people.” The little girl replied. A large part of Thalia’s being begged her not to go. To stay with this mother and daughter for a night or two to recharge. But the promise of recognition and a chance to prove herself had just revealed itself. Thalia quickly thanked the pair, gave them a dollar and left in a hurry, Welrod unholstered.

The street was deserted when Thalia re-emerged onto it, but within minutes of her setting off on their trail, a staccato of gunshots pierced the relative silence. Breaking into a run, Thalia soon found herself confronted with stockades littered with dead bodies. Moving through the corpse strewn entrance like an agent of Hades, Thalia checked each for life signs before looting their bodies for food or medical supplies. At last she came to a man laying next to an ancient riot shield. He had been hit up pretty badly but was still breathing, leaning against a lamp post. Rushing to him, Thalia pulled out her meagre supply of bandage and tweezers before setting to work on the shrapnel that had peppered his flank.

Adrian listened to what the others thought about the money, and mentally he had to agree with them all; firstly it wasn't his...theirs money and anyone with that much money must have either worked for it all or stolen it, and Adrian knew that very few in Aurora's End had that much money from working, so the latter seemed most likely. On the other hand, it had been a bloodbath in the town, and whoever owned it was most likely dead, which in turn meant no one could claim it. And it wasn't like Adrian...They had earned it, they had fought most of the bandits themselves.

Just as Adrian was to put his hand down in the satchel to pick up some of that money, the doors opened and inside entered, her. The woman who had insulted Adrian earlier, and then gracefully made a fool out of him in more that one way. But now she claimed that it was her money, and held out her hand like a beggar, which put a small smile on his face. Victor stood next to him, and Flint now stood up to defend their own claim on the money, but his remark on that it was strange that she didn't have a guard, Adrian's smile faded away. He remembered the big guy who had snuck up behind him, clearly able to crush him like a roach or something. "She has a guard..." And then a gunshot was heard from outside.

Adrian pulled out his revolver, holding it close to his chest as he took a step backwards, until he heard Twix jump up on the counter, announcing that the money was his. "Oh you've got to be joking. I even got your hat back, Twix!" Adrian said with anger in his voice, still not pointing the revolver at anyone. And then he realized, the gun wasn't loaded after he had gotten to Taffy's. "I...We found the money while you had left it, and this town needs it more than you do! You don't get to make a fool out of me again, you bitch!" Oh, Adrian's big mouth always managed to say the right things at the right time, which was never.

Flint realised the situation was turning sour and wasn't one to stick around. He didn't care about the money, he could win that much in a good poker game for all he cared, and it wasn't worth taking a bullet for anyway. Flint slowly got up "I will go check on Taffy..." He gave the excuse as he began to leave "Try not to get to many blood stains on the counter" He remarked as he left to go find where Taffy was.
He exited the pump house and was about to turn towards Taffy's until he noticed someone in the street. Just ahead of the main entrance, rummaging around a persons body. At the distance Flint was from them he wasn't sure what they where doing, but it didn't seem like they where looting the corpse. The movements where to soft and caring. Flint began to walk over, he put his hand in his jacket and removed the large revolver from within. Checking the chamber to find it empty. He emptied pockets and loaded it with the last two rounds of ammunition he had. The stranger seemed pretty occupied with the body and so Flint walked until he was a few paces beside the stranger. The stranger was a woman and she was frantically bandaging the half dead man in front of her. Flint pulled back the hammer on his revolver the sound of grating metal and pins locking into place as the cylinder rotated and the hammer clicked backwards. "I hate to come off as a pain but could you show me your hands." Flint said calmly.

Garsin rolled over and propped himself up on the wall adjacent to the door, the effort making his head spin. When all was settled, he felt like he should pay the woman back for helping him earlier. He saw the satchel in the bar before when he met her, and she was one of the the only other person in there. "I think it is hers. I saw her with it....when she pulled me from outside.... during the fighting. No one else was here...except..." He looked up at her quizzically. Still a little dazed do to the loss of blood, he didn't think about his next choice of words. "So where... is that large fellow... that you were with?" he asked, taking deep breaths.

The bar was getting a bit... stuffy, the air seemed too... close. Someone had knocked over a barrel in the back and the constant drip...drip...drip was starting to irk Twix, drip...drip...fucking drip.

He slid his coat off and placed it on the counter, it made the room marginally more tolerable. The warm buzz of alcohol hovering in his mind did the rest, he grabbed another bottle from below the bar and poured himself a glass grinning stupidly.

"The Iron man finally speaks! but there were plenty of people here before the raid"

"and that's my money."

Twix still grinning grabbed and raised his gun, the sights locked firmly on Adrian.

"Chuck us the bag eh?"

"There is another way to prove its hers." Garsin calmly stated. " So put your gun down before you do something stupid." he waited for the man's reaction, and continued on either way. He turned back toward Myra, "How much money,... exactly..., is in the satchel? If your write you get it back, and if your wrong,... He gets part, but the town gets most of it because they will need it after last night," He rubbed his temple at the headache he had and leaned back against the wall. He took a flask from his belt and took a small sip.

Twix snorted

"Rusty you move and I'll fill you full of lead, So Adrian what's it gonna be?"

As he spoke he slowly cocked the gun, the click punctuating his question.

First of all Thalia lowered the man from his position against the lamp post so he was laying flat on the pavement. That complete she began carefully cutting away his filthy shirt to reveal his chest beneath. The cloth was sticky with blood, Thalia noted that he seemed to have taken a lot of buckshot shrapnel from long range. The wound was non-fatal but he was losing a lot of blood and if left untreated, the piece could cause an infection. An infection in the Wasteland was normally a death sentence. She rolled up her sleeves but before she could begin she heard a voice from in front of her.

Raising her face to look at the man pointing a weapon at her, the doctor fired off her most disarming smile. Thalia looked back at her patient. "You've got to be kidding me right? Help me save this man." The man was coming around, a low moaning sound was emanating from his mouth. Grabbing a handful of his hair, Thalia carefully lifted his head a little before letting it fall back onto the road, knocking him out cold again. Shuffling around so she could see all his wounds, Thalia motioned for the man to come to her side. she pointed to the compress she had placed over the most severe puncture mark. "Push down hard on that while i fix him up. What happened here?"

IGNORE

Flint sighed, slipping the revolver back into his jacket "Well so much for being threatening and straight forward..." Flint though as he went into his satchel and removed the medical supplies within, handing them to Thalia "Well at least there is someone else with some kind of medical knowledge around here.." Flint said to the woman as he began to help. "Bandit raid, killed a lot of towns folk but they are either dead or we scared them off.. a lot of wounded...... people like you and me are going to be busy.." Flint sighed "Im guessing you made sure you got all the pellets out before covering the wound right?" He gestured towards the mans chest.
At this point Flint remembered about his own medical affliction. He hadn't even looked in a mirror to see how it was looking. He had only covered it with a bandage and his ear would probably need stitching's. He came out better then a lot of other people though, he thought as he looked to the man at his knees. He probably wouldn't survive, and if he did he probably wouldn't walk again, depending on how deep the pellets had torn through him.

Things went from bad to worse in the Pump House. This money thing was getting seriously out of control. Jason understood why. $200 was a hell of a lot of money whoever you were, people would and often did do some very stupid and or heinous shit for that amount of money. It bought a lot of bullets. A lot of medical supplies and quite a bit of food. Anyone would be crazy not to want the cash, but was the value of ones life worth it? In the world they lived in yes was the only correct answer. People willingly killed for a hell of a lot less. Jason did value his own life though and sometimes even valued the lives of others, so as much as he badly wanted and needed some of that money he wasn't planning on killing anyone for it. Of course he also needed to make sure he wasn't killed and in order to do that he needed to at the very least play a part in getting the whole situation under control. When the fool behind the bar aimed his gun at the bloke in possession of the satchel the line was crossed for Jason. In one swift movement he brought the shotgun up into a firing position and aimed it at the chest of the man behind the bar.

“Don't get any stupider now friend. At this range even if I miss I can't miss. Now, sorry to say I just can't believe you would be in possession of that amount of cash and value it little enough to leave it in a damn bar. So lady, how did you come to be in possession of that amount of money?” Jason spoke very calmly, his weapon still fixed on the man who had decided to pull his weapon.