Post by Oz on Jun 7, 2003 17:14:24 GMT -5
Not my best writing. Anyway enjoy.
The last bronze.
The lone wolf was a grand machine as it muscled ir's way through the wastelands once knew as the outback. It's crome plating blurred with it's surroundings as it sped past endless red soil and dried shurbery. The vehicle was laden down on the back and front engins with supplies; jerry cans, water, dog food and anything else useful. The driver of the vehicle a black clad vehicle noticed a old fueling station just up ahead and slowed the wolf down next to an old gas pump. The driver got out of hte vehicle his rusted leg brace sqeaking widly as he ran around to the back and untied a jerry can from the heap of junk.
The driver had taken a flat head screw driver he had hanging from his belt and pried off the pump's maintence panel. He then tried to crank the emergency crank to produce a flow of guzzline but was halted by the screeching motor of a ditbike. The driver froze dropping the jerry can on the ground and slowly turned around revealing to be none other the the man himself, the Roadwarrior, "Mad" Max Rockatansky. Max stood up pulling a scoped .44 caliber revolver. He checked the load. One bullet was all he had. He snapped the cylinder shut and aimed at the dirtbike rider's head with the scope.
" One shot make htis count Max." He mumbled under his breath.
The dirtbike rider intrigued by this started to descend upon Max, the biker's rabbit skin clothes flapping in the wind. Max pulled back the hammer lock. The Mohawker aimed a writstbow. Max sqeuzed the trigger. In slow motioned the mohawker was thrown off his bike his leather mask covered in it's wearer's own gore. The biker landed on his back dead already as the bike skidded to the bottom of the hill where Max was standing. Just then a Tow truck wrecker came over the hill. It was covered in dirt and a steel spiked cow catcher was welded on the front of it. There was a small grouping of buckshot holes in the front windscreen covered in blood where the drivers hand WAS. Max chuckled and unholstered his good ol' shotgun. Although Max couldn't see the driver's eyes covered by a dark hood widened and he swvered his wrecker around and drove off before he met the same fate of his biker friend. Max shook his head and holstered his shotgun turning to the pump.
Max crouched down next the pump and reached in turning the door knob size crank. Some gasoline spilled onto the ground and soaked into the dirt. Max cursed under his breath and pickedup the nozzle. He quickly spun the lone wolf's gas cap off and jabbed the nozzle in. The tank started filling up little by little. It was slow tedious filling so Max decided to check his weapons. He unholstered his hsotgun and cracked it open. Smoke poured from the barrels. He removed the two empty shells and put them in a old rusted coffee can in the lone wolf. In the wastes you had to save alot of things. He stcuk his finger in both barrels, they came out a bit dirty. He had to clean it but he had no cleaning supplies whatsoever so he had to hold back on firing his shotgun as much as possibel. He then took out his remaining shotgun shells. he had about 7 shells left, 5 buckshot and 2 solid slugs. He checked each shell sqeuzing them at the base to see if they werent bad yet. That was the problem with ammo though you couldnt even tell sometimes. Max loaded the shotgun with two more shells both buckshot and set it on the lone wolf's seat. He then pulled the .44 revolver from his belt and swung open the cylinder removing the empty casing, which he put in hte same coffee can. He noticed gunpowder residue was starting to form on the barrel anf cylinder holes, but no worry he had no ammunition for the revolver so he ddint have to worry about firing it for now.
Max pulled out the nozzle as it sputtered the last few drops of gasoline into the tank. There wasn't much left all he got was 1/3 of a tank, but in the wasteland you took all the gas you could get. Max then checked the other pump it was empty. He picked up his jerry can and a hose from the Lone wolf and jogged over to the bike. He spun open the gas cap and stuck the hose inside. He sucked on the hose once then twice. Then finally on his 3rd try gasoline started flowing out through the hose. There wasnt much in there either just about a quart. Max shook his head and checked the rider. His mask was covered in blood and gray brain matter. Max started patting him down. He checked his sidepack. There was a single blue shotgun round. Max checked it sqeuzing it, he reconized these type of shells. They were beanbag rounds. Max shrugged his shoulders and put the shell in his coat pocket with the rest of them. He had checked the service bay of the station and had only found a half bottle of motoroil and a dusy old case of road flares with about 5 flares in it. he tucked the flares behind the wolf's lone seat and filled the engine with the oil he had found. And once again he was back on the road again.
==================================================================================
A few miles down the road the, on the path max was heading there sat lay a small wooden town once named Edgarsville. When you reached its outskirts you wouldn't have seen much though. Just few ruins here and there. But as you got deeper into town you would see more buildings. Now looted Edgarsville has only one street about a quarter or less mile long. On it you would find a few buildings, a barber shop a diner, a MFP station, a saloon and a vacant lot or two. Some buildings lay dilapidated, pieces of timber falling on the wooden sidewalks. Other buildings were damaged from fires. Nonetheless nothing lived there for a long time.
Until now.
They had came 4 days ago on their thunderous metalsteeds and carriages. They wore a combination of mfp leathers and rabbit skins. They set up camp every where up and down the street, in buildings on the sidewalks. They were looking for one thing. Guzzline. There was rumored to be a rogue military controlled petrol compound around these parts and this gang wanted to cash in. But they were just another group of maruaders. They were ruthless, rapists and above all scags. They were led by a man named Kane. A dangrous man at that, who was unshaven. He drove a HQ LS Monaro equipped with a weiand brand blower and was dresses in Rabbit skins and MFP leathers. An Ex bronze, he carried a sawn off Remmington 870 and had a FN Fal on a tripod welded to the hood of his car. He was overlooking Edgarsville's surrounding wasteland from atop the water towerwhen a faded green wrecker slowly drove into town. Kane looked up from his telescope as the other gang members crowded around the car. he hopped down from the tower and Jogged over to the wrecker.
He pulled open the door and out fell the driver. His arm a bloody stump. The wrecker's name was Kyle a old friend of Kane's. He knelt down next to kyle who was barley concsious.
"Kyle." Kane said to the one hand man." Who did this to you?"
" The-the-." Kyle sputtered. " The Last Bronze."
and with that Kyle fell into unconciousness.
to be continued
The last bronze.
The lone wolf was a grand machine as it muscled ir's way through the wastelands once knew as the outback. It's crome plating blurred with it's surroundings as it sped past endless red soil and dried shurbery. The vehicle was laden down on the back and front engins with supplies; jerry cans, water, dog food and anything else useful. The driver of the vehicle a black clad vehicle noticed a old fueling station just up ahead and slowed the wolf down next to an old gas pump. The driver got out of hte vehicle his rusted leg brace sqeaking widly as he ran around to the back and untied a jerry can from the heap of junk.
The driver had taken a flat head screw driver he had hanging from his belt and pried off the pump's maintence panel. He then tried to crank the emergency crank to produce a flow of guzzline but was halted by the screeching motor of a ditbike. The driver froze dropping the jerry can on the ground and slowly turned around revealing to be none other the the man himself, the Roadwarrior, "Mad" Max Rockatansky. Max stood up pulling a scoped .44 caliber revolver. He checked the load. One bullet was all he had. He snapped the cylinder shut and aimed at the dirtbike rider's head with the scope.
" One shot make htis count Max." He mumbled under his breath.
The dirtbike rider intrigued by this started to descend upon Max, the biker's rabbit skin clothes flapping in the wind. Max pulled back the hammer lock. The Mohawker aimed a writstbow. Max sqeuzed the trigger. In slow motioned the mohawker was thrown off his bike his leather mask covered in it's wearer's own gore. The biker landed on his back dead already as the bike skidded to the bottom of the hill where Max was standing. Just then a Tow truck wrecker came over the hill. It was covered in dirt and a steel spiked cow catcher was welded on the front of it. There was a small grouping of buckshot holes in the front windscreen covered in blood where the drivers hand WAS. Max chuckled and unholstered his good ol' shotgun. Although Max couldn't see the driver's eyes covered by a dark hood widened and he swvered his wrecker around and drove off before he met the same fate of his biker friend. Max shook his head and holstered his shotgun turning to the pump.
Max crouched down next the pump and reached in turning the door knob size crank. Some gasoline spilled onto the ground and soaked into the dirt. Max cursed under his breath and pickedup the nozzle. He quickly spun the lone wolf's gas cap off and jabbed the nozzle in. The tank started filling up little by little. It was slow tedious filling so Max decided to check his weapons. He unholstered his hsotgun and cracked it open. Smoke poured from the barrels. He removed the two empty shells and put them in a old rusted coffee can in the lone wolf. In the wastes you had to save alot of things. He stcuk his finger in both barrels, they came out a bit dirty. He had to clean it but he had no cleaning supplies whatsoever so he had to hold back on firing his shotgun as much as possibel. He then took out his remaining shotgun shells. he had about 7 shells left, 5 buckshot and 2 solid slugs. He checked each shell sqeuzing them at the base to see if they werent bad yet. That was the problem with ammo though you couldnt even tell sometimes. Max loaded the shotgun with two more shells both buckshot and set it on the lone wolf's seat. He then pulled the .44 revolver from his belt and swung open the cylinder removing the empty casing, which he put in hte same coffee can. He noticed gunpowder residue was starting to form on the barrel anf cylinder holes, but no worry he had no ammunition for the revolver so he ddint have to worry about firing it for now.
Max pulled out the nozzle as it sputtered the last few drops of gasoline into the tank. There wasn't much left all he got was 1/3 of a tank, but in the wasteland you took all the gas you could get. Max then checked the other pump it was empty. He picked up his jerry can and a hose from the Lone wolf and jogged over to the bike. He spun open the gas cap and stuck the hose inside. He sucked on the hose once then twice. Then finally on his 3rd try gasoline started flowing out through the hose. There wasnt much in there either just about a quart. Max shook his head and checked the rider. His mask was covered in blood and gray brain matter. Max started patting him down. He checked his sidepack. There was a single blue shotgun round. Max checked it sqeuzing it, he reconized these type of shells. They were beanbag rounds. Max shrugged his shoulders and put the shell in his coat pocket with the rest of them. He had checked the service bay of the station and had only found a half bottle of motoroil and a dusy old case of road flares with about 5 flares in it. he tucked the flares behind the wolf's lone seat and filled the engine with the oil he had found. And once again he was back on the road again.
==================================================================================
A few miles down the road the, on the path max was heading there sat lay a small wooden town once named Edgarsville. When you reached its outskirts you wouldn't have seen much though. Just few ruins here and there. But as you got deeper into town you would see more buildings. Now looted Edgarsville has only one street about a quarter or less mile long. On it you would find a few buildings, a barber shop a diner, a MFP station, a saloon and a vacant lot or two. Some buildings lay dilapidated, pieces of timber falling on the wooden sidewalks. Other buildings were damaged from fires. Nonetheless nothing lived there for a long time.
Until now.
They had came 4 days ago on their thunderous metalsteeds and carriages. They wore a combination of mfp leathers and rabbit skins. They set up camp every where up and down the street, in buildings on the sidewalks. They were looking for one thing. Guzzline. There was rumored to be a rogue military controlled petrol compound around these parts and this gang wanted to cash in. But they were just another group of maruaders. They were ruthless, rapists and above all scags. They were led by a man named Kane. A dangrous man at that, who was unshaven. He drove a HQ LS Monaro equipped with a weiand brand blower and was dresses in Rabbit skins and MFP leathers. An Ex bronze, he carried a sawn off Remmington 870 and had a FN Fal on a tripod welded to the hood of his car. He was overlooking Edgarsville's surrounding wasteland from atop the water towerwhen a faded green wrecker slowly drove into town. Kane looked up from his telescope as the other gang members crowded around the car. he hopped down from the tower and Jogged over to the wrecker.
He pulled open the door and out fell the driver. His arm a bloody stump. The wrecker's name was Kyle a old friend of Kane's. He knelt down next to kyle who was barley concsious.
"Kyle." Kane said to the one hand man." Who did this to you?"
" The-the-." Kyle sputtered. " The Last Bronze."
and with that Kyle fell into unconciousness.
to be continued
Well, why don't you write a Thunderdome/Bartertown/Crack In The Earth style story featuring our hero, Max? Or just a story reminding to the MM Beyond Thunderdome Era in terms of scenario and feeling?