Enter The Cafe Here.

[Tycho]

The man's eyes went blank and his body tensed, then relaxed. He was dead.

Tycho looked around the bar. It was shot up pretty good and much of the furniture had been smashed. Luckily, most of the bottles and glasses behind the bar remained untouched, they were commodities which would have been very difficult to replace.

The bartender took a seat at the bar, running a hand through his short silver hair. There were a lot of questions he would have liked to ask the stranger. About life outside Bartertown, about the 'Ark' he mentioned, about anything really.

Tycho's first job would have to be fixing the damage to the Atomic Cafe, repairing the funiture and burying the bodies before they went bad. After that he could have a look at the vehicles they had travelled to bartertown in, hopefully there would be something useful to find. Then he wouldn't be sure what to do.

He hadn't seen anyone for months and now he finally had found someone to talk to, they were dead within minutes of setting foot inside the cafe.

Maybe the place is cursed Tycho told himself.

Maybe he oughta check out the strangers story, the story about the town due East of Bartertown. The Ark. It had sounded like a refuge from the Wasteland, but if what the stranger had said was true about slavery and strict laws and undemocratic government, maybe it was just worth steering clear of.

The real issue that interested Tycho was the fact that the Ark, if it existed, could have sprung up over such a short period of time. If it were true, there was hope that other settlements could begin to appear throughout the Wastes.

Perhaps there was even still hope for Bartertown...

[MāШMąX]

and? and?

[Tycho]

He used parts from the Raiders' vehicles outside to fix the old motorcycle out the back of the cafe, figuring it would get the most miles to the gallon. After gathering his supplies, Tycho roared out of Bartertown on his methane fuelled hog. He headed in the general direction of which the stranger had spoken, seeking the Ark, and perhaps salvation for Bartertown.

It was a mission of love for his old haunt and perhaps the Ark could supply a new populace for Bartertown, once the gemstone of the desert and now a crumbling a ruin.

On his fourth day he met a travelling salesman by the name of Eronius Archer. Tycho bartered some hog-shanks for two jugs of the hybrid fuel on which his chopper ran. The skies were clear and the winds low, and he made good time across the wastelands.

It rose up out of the sands on the sixth night, a towering castle of steel which shone like a beacon of glittering fireflies under the moonlight.

The Ark?

Tycho approached with caution, cutting the engine a mile from the large compound and proceeding on foot, having left the motorcycle hidden under an old tarpaulin.

The walls were high and smooth, patrolled by men with rifles at intervals of twenty feet. At least half a kilometre in width, the great wall was impassable by ground. He moved closer, along a well-worn path which led to a mighty gate.

He knocked twice upon the cold surface and a slot drew back, two green eyes shining through the hole.

"Is this the Ark?" Tycho asked.
"It has many names," The eyes replied, "one of which is the Ark."
"What is this place?" Tycho asked.
"It is a sanctuary." answered the green eyes, "It was built by the leader to survive the flood of evil which has tainted these lands."
"Is this the door?" Tycho asked.
"That depends on what you seek." The eyes replied.

[Tycho]

"I hear you got your mayor killed." Tycho said.
"Yes," the eyes replied, "that is regrettably true."
"I heard you never caught the culprit."
"No, we sent brothers into the wastes, but they have not returned."

Tycho removed the satchel he carried and held its contents up to the slot. The eyes narrowed as they recognised the severed head of the stranger from bartertown, the man who had killed their mayor.

"Thou shalt not kill!" the eyes hissed angrily.
"An eye for an eye." Tycho replied, recognising the biblical significance of the eyes' words.
"'sides, what you think those marauders you sent out were gonna do."
"Yes..." the eyes replied, "you speak the truth."

The slot slammed shut and for a moment Tycho thought he'd blown his chances. But a humming noise came from the ground and a deep rumbling as cogs and gears whirred below the dusty tarmac. The gargantuan steel door was cast aside and a man was revealed behind it. Dressed in a simple brown robe tied with a rope, green eyes shone out from under a hood.

"The leader will wish to see you." The eyes replied, beckoning Tycho to follow. He did so and took a look at the interior of the large compound. There was little to see and he was led down a wide avenue which was walled on each side and led to an inner-gate.

"Like a f**kin' fortress in here." Tycho mutterred under his breath.
"Sorry brother?" the gate-keeper replied, having caught wind of the muttered words.
"You trying to keep us out, or someone in?" Tycho mused aloud.

The gate-keeper laughed for a moment, a dry and hollow sound and continued on. They reached the second gate, next to which a small guardhouse stood. From within the guardhouse two men emerged, dressed in grey, pressed fatigues and carrying automatic weapons.

"Surrender your arms here." The men commanded bluntly.

Without much of a choice, Tycho complied, unshouldering his shotgun and removing a 44 magnum from the satchel he still carried. He also gave up his extra shells to the two men who took them inside the guardhouse.

"I'll be having those back when I leave, or there'll be boot-prints on your faces." Tycho muttered, but the guards said nothing and returned to their post.

Their were futher whirrings and rumblings and the inner-gate slowly drew back to reveal the settlement within.

[Tycho]

Tycho blinked as his eyes were met by a hundred twinking lamps which shone in the darkness. The inner-township was divided into grids of ramshackle buildings, almost like city-blocks from the cities of the before.

What he saw first resembled a shanty-town, huts made from corrugated sheets and roofed by wooden slats. As the gate-keeper took him further in however the abodes grew larger and more grand, made from wood and stone.

Clearly there was wealth and poverty within this town, no matter how unified the grand facade of the outside suggested.

He travelled maybe a half-klik before being led into a white-washed stone building. He noted the sign above the door which simply read.

"The Elders"

The interior was cold and sterile, a most peculiar sight in a world used to dust and blood. Tycho blinked as the fluroescent lights upon the ceiling burned into his brain.

"How do you power this place?" he asked the gate-keeper.
"We have renewable sources." The gatekeeper replied, almost cyptically.
"My old town used to run on methane." Tycho said with nonchalance, "but aint no animals left to provide it."
"Yes." the Gate-keeper replied, "we knew all about bartertown."

[MāШMąX]

Aha!

[PiMpDaDdY]

This is a stupid thread! I don't understand it at all!!!!

*SMOOOOOOCH!!!!*