Daxam

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Vincent leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms as he listened to his companions, playfully flipping off Anita at her remark. "Is Mexico really our only other option?" he asked with a sigh. "The heat here is bad enough, I don't even wanna think about how bad it is further south."

He thought back to Cait's comment about needing money and felt an idea form in his head. Crossing his arms, he looked up at the ceiling before he leaned forward with a grin. "We can talk about where to go later," he said, "but, Cait's right. No matter what we do, we need cash. Way more than we can get by doing odd jobs like we've been doing and in a way that won't draw attention. I've got an idea about that."

He glanced around the diner to make sure no one was interested in what they were saying. The waiter had returned to the counter after taking everyone's orders, where he was chatting with the older guy once more, while the smell of food wafted from the kitchen. In a lower voice, he continued, "I've heard rumors that this big underground fighting tournament's gonna start up over in Austin. I'll make a call to my old manager, knock a few heads together, and we'll be set on cash for a long time."

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

152

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Hey, all, I'll try to get a post up tomorrow. I've got half of one written, but I haven't had time or energy to finish it

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

<Snipped quote by Damo021>

...we'll be having a run-in with the Classified Crew soon enough...

@Wayward

"Come on, let me at 'em! I haven't let loose in ages!"

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Personally, I think 1 or 2 makes the most narrative sense. If you go with 2, maybe have her hitchhike into town?

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

"Yeah, they're all with me. They should be finding their way inside any time, now."

As if on cue, Vincent's companions found themselves at his booth. "Cait's right. I'd have kicked you guys out of the truck ages ago, otherwise." He chuckled and moved farther into the corner of the booth to make room for Cleome as the others sat on the other side, then picked up one of the menus. He browsed it for a few minutes, keeping in mind the meager remains of the winnings he earned from the last fight he had been in, before telling the tired-looking employee, "I'll take a burger with some fries and a chocolate shake."

He passed his menu and waited for his friends to make their orders as he looked out the window, his chin resting palm. While it might look like he was just idly staring out the window, in reality, he was keeping a close eye on their surroundings. After spending so much time out on the streets and on the run from the law and government, he had developed a rather acute situational awareness. He felt confident that he could spot a cop or government agent no matter how big the crowd and, given how small Eureka Springs seemed, spotting someone out of place should be even easier.

"So long as we head out of the country," he said after a while, still looking out of the window. "I don't mind what direction we go. Europe, Japan, Canada, anywhere's gotta be better than here."

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Gotcha. I'll just go ahead and hold off on posting, in that case

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

I'm probably gonna post tonight unless someone else was planning on it

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Vincent glanced at the blunt and raised his hand to decline. He didn't have anything against weed or those who smoked it, he just wasn't one of them. "I dunno about any skateboard shop," he responded to Cait and Anita as he pulled in front of the dented gas pump, "but even if they've got a mechanic, there's no way I'm letting them touch Bertha. I've been doing a good job keeping her going all this time, I don't need anyone messing with my work." To Cleome, he added, "I don't blame them. With how hot it's been, I'd be in hiding, too."

He climbed out of the truck and stretched his arms over his head with a groan. After sitting so long, he was eager to move around. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the front of the truck as he looked around. He spotted the two vehicles, visibly recoiling when he saw the paint job on the Jeep, and glanced into the diner, where he saw what he assumed were the owners of said vehicles, the pair chatting away like they knew one another. It was such a peaceful, every day scene that he didn't feel any reason to be on guard, but he still decided that the one who can make his skin bulletproof should be the first to approach, just in case. Pushing himself away from the truck, he told his companions as he walked toward the door, "I'm gonna go grab some food, then I'll see about getting the AC fixed."

The door opened, accompanied by the cheerful ringing of the bell mounted on the frame overhead. The two men paused in their conversation as Vincent glanced at them, then found a seat in one of the empty booths, far from the counter.

The Misfit Crew (ver. 2.1)

Vincent drove the old truck down the interstate, one hand on the wheel while the other drummed on the outside of his door in time to the music that played over the video. It had been quiet for the last hour or so on the road, the silence filled by the music and Vincent's voice as he quietly hummed along, only slightly off-key. His dark hair fluttered in the wind that blew through his open window, the AC in the truck having long since given out, something Vincent had meant to look into repairing, yet never got around to. I'll take care of it at the next stop, he had always told himself, only to be interrupted by something else, like a more pressing repair or a hasty exit from whatever town he and his companions were in.

Eureka Springs, next right. Vincent had been so absorbed in his thoughts and the music that he barely noticed the sign as he drove past it. He glanced at his companions, then decided he felt that he could eat. "Alright, kiddos, as the driver, I'm making an executive decision, so we're gonna be making a pitstop," he called out as he flipped on his turn signal before changing lanes. "We can stretch our legs, grab some food, maybe figure out where to go from here. Old Bertha could use some gas, anyway."