jumjummju — Roleplayer Guild

Arthur made his way through the gore-covered field and toward the DERB van the men had arrived in. He walked around the vehicle, looking it over as best he could; it seemed to be intact and working, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he tried to start the thing. After examining the vehicle, Arthur opened the driver side door and plopped himself down in the driver’s seat. The interior of the van was torn leather with shoddy repair work present in the worst spots. Adjusting the seat to suit his height, Arthur looked around for the keys, rummaging through the console between the driver and passenger seats; it held nothing but a handgun and some stale rations. Suddenly, a head peeked in past the front seats, popping up suddenly with a, “Hey! Arthur, does it work?” Jones had a grin wider than the Cheshire Cat as he peered around the cabin of the vehicle. “It’s damn big…” “I think so. I just need to find the bloody keys first,” Arthur replied absentmindedly, now having moved his search to the glove box. Jones grabbed the handgun, examining it with a keen eye. “I think it’s a Glock. Never was a gun nut. S’worth its weight in gold, though. ” He shrugged, frowning slightly at his own comparison. “Well. Not gold, gold is useless. Beans, I might say.” Catherine, meanwhile, was turfing through the remains - or at least, what was left of the remains - of a pile of dead flesh that used to be bodies to see if she could find something that hadn’t been blown into enough pieces to make a jigsaw puzzle with. She saw a glint of something shiny in a particularly gross puddle of blood and grabbed what appeared to be some car keys, covered in blood. She headed on over to Jones and Arthur in the van and knocked on the door. “‘Ey, I think I found the keys.” Arthur looked up from his search of the glove box, a screwdriver held in his hand. He turned to see Catherine standing with the keys held in her hand. He thanked her as he grabbed the keys from her and slipped them into the ignition switch of the van. He turned the key, and the engine sputtered to life with some difficulty. “We now have transportation, Mr. Jones. Before we use this vehicle, though, we may want to scrape off the DERB paint and take off any other distinguishing factors just in case.” Jones nodded thoughtfully as he listened in, slightly tapping the dial that showed the hydrogen tank, seventy percent full. “Yeah… We should do that, but the thing is… I have no idea how to drive.” “Hey,” Catherine added with a smirk, “we could use all this blood out here to paint the van red.” “If we want to look like lunatics, yes… Luckily, Mr. Jones, I am old.” Jones flicked Catherine in the forehead with a finger as Arthur spoke, grinning again. “Hooray for being old. You remember how to drive it? Man, I can’t wait to show the rest of the crew,” he said with the enthusiasm of a school girl. “I do. Though, this model seems rather old even for the pre-Hail world, but as I said I can drive it.” Jones looked at Arthur with his grin widening even more. “It needs a name. Name it, you’re the Captain.” “I want to call it Bob,” Catherine replied. “Bob seems like a good name.” Jones flicked her in the forehead again. “Owwww, stop that,” Catherine pouted like a young child. “You don’t give a ship, or a van in this case, an actual name. You give it a theatrical name, like The Queen Anne’s Revenge.” Jones tapped the dashboard for a moment before responding, “How about The Bloody Strumpet?” he said as he pointed to the bloody mess outside. “Perhaps an appropriate name to the situation it appeared to us in would be something like The Hallowed Harbinger?” “Oooh!” Catherine excitedly squealed. “How about ‘Bloody Bob’ then!?” Jones flicked her in the forehead with the power of a thousand suns, prompting the frown of a wounded child. “The Blood Stained Robert?” Jones frowned back at Arthur. “Oh, come on. I can’t bop you in the forehead.” He reclined back in the passenger seat with a groan. “You know what? Fine. The van’s name is Bob. Case closed.” Catherine let out an excited “Yay!” and hopped into the van, sitting basically on top of Jones, who let out a groan of annoyance with a muffled, “get off,” which went unnoticed by Catherine. “Good to see you respect your elders. Very well… but I’m calling it Robert.” A knock on the driver side door was revealed to be Jeremy holding a crate of supplies from the gas station, who spoke up. “Robert? Who’re we calling Robert?” with an enormous amount of cluelessness. “Apparently the van…,” Arthur replied, eyeballing the crate. “Wh… why are we calling the van Robert? That’s not even a name for a van,” Jeremy replied, still clueless. “Can you think of a better name for it, then?” Catherine indignantly replied, still on Jones’s lap. Jones looked extremely uncomfortable as Jeremy spoke up, “Well, there’s Contergan, Tin Lizzie, Gullwing, Pagoda, Adenauer, Strawberry Basket, the Rolling Egg, Magnum…” he said, going unnoticed. “Hm… What if we call it Safe Zone Robert?” “SZ Bob?” Catherine asked. “I like that.”

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