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Abigail Caine      I saw a- van. Looks like it's been abandoned, probably toast, but there were some pretty weird parts on it and I figured we should get a few folks together and go ahead and check it out. Bit of a hurry, though. Someone else had to've spotted it." Abigail Caine is far from an alarmist. That is why when she says that she needs a few guns and some people who can actually recognize tech to head out into the desert with her someone usually joins up. Right now the Ranger is leading the way through the rocks and dust, squinting as she scans the horizon. Not that one can tell past those dark sunglasses she wears.

Even less of Gale is visible than usual today. She's got a bandanna on to eal with the dust, andd between that, the glasses, the hat, and the gloves she is basically just a figure in power armour. If she were taller than five feet that figure would even be considered 'featureless'. Short is a discernible feature, however.

"Shouldn't be too much further," Gale calls. "Should probably get a drink now before we head over the ridge ahead, just in case someone's out here. Take five?" Gale has found her place beneath a six foot tall juniper. Someone much taller might have trouble propping themselves there.
Qwillis     Qwillis got lucky. He happen to be around when there was talk of a need for someone that knew tech to salvage something. A job he could do and maybe get parts from? Win win right there. So, the non-cripple cripple was there. Mechanical leg and arm showing where he was definitely into tech. He was wearing a heavy metal plate mail on his body to help with dealing with the Wastelands. But otherwise he had that coat over it with a hat on to help with the sun. No, he wasn't a ranger or anything like that. Despite the odd limbs, he was still quite able to keep up though.
    At Gale's words, Qwillis would nod and drink some of his water from a waterskin. This is where it'd potentially start to get dangerous.
Abe     The Scribe slings his leg from one side of his shabby, little horse and over the other as he steps down from the saddle, reins in hand. "Where did you see this van from anyway?" the man in the motley collection of armor wondered as he looped the horse's reins over one of the trees branches. The creature was certain that this was enough to anchor it in place... and so it lowered it's head to pluck at the scrub.

"We're a bit aways from the highways..." he mused as he regarded that thing on his left arm, flipping a dial or turning a switch to regard the areas map... Maybe it was heading from or going somewhere of interest...
Vector     The idea of just random scrap laying about is enticing. The idea of random scrap laying about that he can actually get his hands on? Sure. I'm more than a bit interested. Ignore the look of avaricious glee that burns behind his eyes, it's okay. Although considering the events that have occured lately, Vector is walking while carrying his marksman's rifle in his hands - rather than hanging by his side - simply due to the healthiest dose of paranoia you ever did see.
    Paranoid people simply know all the facts, you know.
    The mention of a drink is taken up, as he raises up a hand to drag a straw that loops from his canteen to over his back, shoulder, and then curled up near the veil that he wears on his turban. Tucked under, he slurps at it a few times before he lets the straw drop away once more. "Sure. Taking five, better to be rested than tired." He comments.
Apostle     Hssk.
    Hsssk. Hsk.
    Apostle strides along after the others, curious eyes down at the mostly-mended wound in her chest, though there's a rattle in her breath that suggests her lung has not fully recovered from the events past. Her head is tilted as she busies herself by prodding the wound, hissing in a breath, and repeating -- there is a rudamentary bandage that's been put in place, though it doesn't look like the cleanest thing ever. These damned crafty wastelanders.
    With her hood pulled low over her features, the misanthropic woman comes to a teetering halt just beside Vector when he agrees to take a break. Finally, her head lifts and she looks around as though she were noticing the others for the first time. ... it explains the contempt that fills those molten gold eyes, now narrowed to judgmental slivers of blazing hatred. She snorts softly, HSSK, her shoulders rolling a few times as they offer a litany of wet pops and creaking cracks. "Tribute, surely, offered us by what may be -- a carcass to be picked clean, though said pickings may be lean, we will seize our prize, mm?"
Emily Emily is your average, ordinary wastelander girl, a pretty little thing, clad in a hodgepodge of armor, and a heavy .44 magnum revolver tucked into the straps of her chestpiece, and an old school Pip-Boy 2000 secured to her person by straps and buckles.

"Thanks for the clue in on this stash." She says over towards Abigail, "And yeah, if it's as juicy as you say, could be raiders, or scavs, or who knows." She says with a little shrug of her shoulders, moving to hunker down a bit while the group takes their short little break.
Abigail Caine "It might just be empty. Don't know until we get there. People who ditched it could always have just scooped out everything useful and ran..." Abigail squints. "But it's a possibility, at least, and that's more'n we had." Each speaker gets a brief nod from Gale, who turns slightly so that she can survey the group as a whole.

For a moment Abigail lifts the bandanna covering her mouth and adjusts her glasses, offering glimpses of a pretty face and blue eyes which are otherwise thoroughly hidden. She's relatively pale... And probably burns if left in the sun too long. To Emily she offers, "S'not like I can haul it back myself if there turns out to be parts anyhow." A shrug follows. "And you seem nice enough. Call me soft." She takes a deep breath ad then points to the spot beisde her under the tree.

"Emily, right? I never did ask you anything about yourself... Now, mostly it's not my business. But what do you do out here? Other than being a half decent guide, as it turns out." Gale, for her part, picks her way through the wilderness with an ease that can only be earned with decades of experience.
Vector     "Might be empty. Might have bits of metal unrusted to pull off and drag back. Either way, it works." comes Vectors response, and he looks aside at Apostle. "If it's been left out, probably lean, or maybe near something that keeps others away. We're here now, all the same." He comments, as he drops himself into a squat, resting his rifle over his knees.
    With the little break in place, the man takes the time to make himself at least more comfortable than just standing around resting on his heels, with the squat causing a few audiable clicks and pops from joints that have seen better days. "Better out here anyway. Better still if there was an engine running." Is a muttered statement, the man tugging at his gloves, tightening them up and restrapping them - adjusting to the new layer.
Abe     With a grunt and a nod of understanding, Abe settles himself down on the flattest rock his ass can find. Maybe this was just going to be a easy job, maybe they could somehow stick it in neutral and push/pull the damn thing all the way back to town... or Acme. Were they closer to Acme? He couldn't tell, they'd gone a while.

Doffing his helmet, he rests it on a knee, taking the time to collect a small, dingy flask from this or that pocket. He steals a sip from it before working the cap back on.
Emily "Yeah, it's Emily." Emily replies to the question from Gale, giving a nod of her head at the woman as she pulls out her canteen to take a little sip of water before tucking it away.

"And what do I do? Well, I scrounge, and whatever else I have to to stay alive and earn a few caps here and there. Hopefully we do find a good little haul though."
Qwillis     Qwillis glances between them, then peers over at where the thing was they had come for. "If the engine is good enough, I can probably get it fixed so it is running. Then we may not even have to haul it.. just drive it back." He'd glance to the others with a small shrug. "But that's why I'm along.. If you keep me safe, I'll do what I can to get it going and make it easy to get back."
Apostle     Her head slowly turning, Apostle regards Qwillis with the same open contempt she allows any person she comes across in this blasted place; a place that so tries to claim civility, where people greet each other with smiling faces and outstretched palm as though the world still existed in a state where such was prudent. Finally, a tinny voice comes through the speaker of her mask as her inner monologue spills outward.
    "...And suddenly, from behind me, I hear the metaphysically abrupt arrival of the office boy. I feel like I could kill him for barging in on what I wasn't thinking." She stares unblinkingly, fists opening and clenching, opening again with fingers wiggling in idle twitch that brings to mind the image of the spaghetti western cowboy waiting for the call to draw. "I turn around and look at him with a silence full of hatred, tense with latent homicide, my mind already hearing the voice he'll use to tell me something or other...." She trails off.
    She takes a few seething, watchful moments to glare toward him, before turning her attentions to Vector. "If it were so simple as to repair the heart and ride into the sunset, even raiders would have done so. Hope blinds us, makes fools of us all. It is a carcass waiting to be picked clean, and nothing more... a husk awaiting purpose, a donor with organs to spare." She informs him, apparently sure of her assessment, talking around the rest of the group, like they weren't even there.
Abe     Oh and here comes the crazy!

Abe turned those baby browns around towards the masked woman and drew breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He steeled himself, steadied himself, "Yup. I'm getting shot today." he uttered under his breath in resolved resignation. Rose wouldn't even be here to blame it on. Could he blame it on the Caines? That would be nice. Quickly, he uncapped the flask once more and took a healthier pull from it's contents before squirreling it away.
Abigail Caine "Big vehicles usually mean cargo. Not usually much point in using something like that if you aren't moving anything. Of course, usually that jut means more raiders." Gale sighs and adjusts her rifle, still squinting off into the distance. "I do a lot of scrounging too. I hope you like sand, it's a pretty popular commodity in these parts."

Vector, for her part, draws a slow, careful look.. The woman'sbrow furrowsdelicatley, though it might take a bit of looking to tell even with her eyes and lower face somewhat exposed. The hat keeps Gale more or less in shadow, the environment in which she papears to primarily operate. "With a silence full of hatred and latent homicide? Well. Don't let me disrupt it being /latent/ or anything... Though we might prefer active soon."

Gale sighs and goes about putting her sunglasses on once more. "Alright. Seems close to time..."
Vault Girl As the group spies the van in the distance, a lone van out in the wasteland they hear laughter!

"YOU IDIOT!" A man cries out, "Hey, I'm not the idiot, it was him who done the laughing!" Another man responded before the laughter howled out even louder into the dreary New Mexico wasteland like a hyena!

Three figures, all looking alike with round-faces, pot-bellies and gruff worn clothing stepped out from behind a rock, "Well, you done heard my brother laughing, so now it's time to give us your caps and uh, any valuables!" Larry announced with a grin pointing a shotgun at the group.

Moe had a big sledgehammer in his hand and echoed, "Yeah! The valuables, givem here!"

Curly held a machine gun in his hands and just kept laughing.
Abigail Caine "...Well, shit. Get to cover." Abigail is speaking quietly when she hears laughter, already lowering her rifle and moving to crouch with her back against the tree. Better than being complete exposed. She's squinting, scanning the desert ahead of them until her gaze comes to rest on that rock.

"I'll hand over some valuables. Costs two caps a round to load this fucking thing. Get out of here before I have to waste a few of them on you." Gale breathes a longsuffering sigh.. She doesn't seem to think that this imperative will have much effect.
Qwillis     Qwillis stares back at Apostle. That mechanical hand coming up to point one claw of a finger at Apostle. "You really-" He's cut short at the laughter. When Abigail says to take cover, he'd do just that, drawing that needler from the holster as he'd duck behind his own rock, looking around for the source until they show up. Great. Dumb, Dumber and Hyena. Just what they needed on this job.
Vector     I've got a joke for you. Three guys with guns walk around a corner and ask for your valuables.

    So you aim and blow one of their ears off. It doesn't /sound/ funny, but the sight of an earlobe suddenly flying off into the air to go alongside the blown eardrum is probably hilarious to Vector. Or at least, it would be, if the man wasn't now turning and scrabbling into cover. *BOOM* goes the rifle. *Click-click*. Goes the bolt.
    *Thump* goes Vector, as he lands himself into cover and then calls out.
Vault Girl Curly steps forward with his machine gun and just keeps laughing like a Hyena as he sprays fire into the air, missing wildly.

"Idiot!" Moe cried out as he charged Vector, tripping over some debris and missing the other man with his Sledgehammer, "You're gonna pay for what you did to Larry!"
Apostle     When Qwillis begins to speak, Apostle's golden gaze is settled squarely upon him and his pointed finger as though to suggest he continue.
    At his own peril, of course.
    When the laughing begins, and the would-be robbers shout out their demands, there's a stillness from her not entirely unlike a deer in the headlights. Soon, it gives way to a curiousity as Larry's ear goes flying off, her brows furrowing ever so slightly in brief confusion.
    HSSK. ... Hsssk. Hssk.
    Her reply comes back to the trio even as her laser pistol is lifted, pupils fattening in wanton excitement at the prospect of what may be left for her to vulture when this is done -- dilated in a sort of disfunctional need for the flesh in a most absurd of ways. There is no sarcasm, nor snark to her words as she begins, "All causes shall give way," Terminate, "I am in blood, steppd in so far that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go oer..."
    The trigger is squeezed, the near-silent whir of the power source heard just before the telltale 'pew' the pistol cries ever so unimpressively, first scoring a burnt line across the armour of Larry's torso, before a second rapid-fire response flashes red over his surprised features. There's a second of reprieve before there is a sound, not unlike stepping on a bag full of air; POCK! PFFLLLEEEHHH!
    There is an explosion of ash and light, the human confetti of bandits past, her eyes going wide as she looks at her weapon, then back up at the other two, firmly jabbing it in their direction.
    "I feel I could kill," She tells them, as though in warning. "I feel that I might like it. And I know that this should scare me. But it doesn't. It excites me. I am in Plato's cave, watching the shadows and fraught with the desire to hunt what casts them." Her breath quickens with a hssk-hssk-hssk of rhythmic panting, "Cast me your shadows that I might see them dance."
Emily So, bullets are ostensibly fired in Emily's direction, missing her luckily, which gives her a chance to shoot back at one of the bad folk, a shot that goes wild, nearly hitting Abe in the process, as she moves to duck behind cover of one of the rocks.
Abe     With the cackling idiot riding the recoil of his gun and the other freshly ashed by the person in the mask, Abe sets his sights instead on Moe and his sledge hammer. The rock terrain could hamper Laughing Boy over there but that sledge hammer could be trouble.

The Scribe, eager to put that hefty gathering of metal on his right arm to good use, moves in!

A shrill whistle preceeds the blow as Abe dips in, narrowly avoiding tripping over his own foot as he drops his shoulder and then works the pneumatic ram up into a sharp, short punch into the larger man's middle!

There is gunfire, more of it. He lurched backwards in a short hop, dust kicking up in from a stray bullet.

"H-!?" he barks, those goggles whipping around towards Emily?!

Maybe... he should have tipped her more.
Vault Girl "LARRY! NO!!!!!!" Moe screamed out as he tried to smash Abe with his sledgehammer repeatedly but Abe had developed into some kind of chubby-Neo!
Emily With both of the badnits now engaged in close quarters by the band she's travelled out here with, Emily remains tucked back behind the rock she's taken cover behind, her revolver in hand, aiming around just a little back and forth between Curly and Moe, but she doesn't shoot!
Vector     With close quarters now engaged, Vector shifts and comes sliding out from behind the cover he was languishing behind. He drops down onto one knee, raising his marksmans rifle up and gripping it properly to adequately prepare for the incoming level of recoil. With a slow exhale, he takes aim at the swirling melee that is Abe and Moe. "By the grease that lubricates, the mechanism that chambers.." comes the muttered prayer to the great God of Machinery, he begins to fire.

    *BOOM* *Click-click*
    *BOOM* *Click-click*

    It sounds like two shots, but four spent rounds come spinning out, with each round thumping home into Moe's thick body, whistling by Abe.
Qwillis     Qwillis watches as everyone swirls into the melee. Cursing quietly, he'd edge away from Apostole. Crazy laser wielding freakshow there and stalk closer to Abagail and the bad guy. That needler was ready but he couldn't get a clean shot and he wasn't going to just fire blind. Who would do that?
Vault Girl Curly cries out, "You killed my brothers! NOW YOU DIE! ARGHHHHHHHHHH!" The sawed-off M60 was unloaded in close range with pure rage and no care for anything in the world.
Apostle     Bom. Bom. Bom. Another one rides the bus.
    As Qwillis moves to do the legitimate kindness of NOT shooting his compatriots, Apostle only watches him edge away from her like a girl edges away from a trenchcoat wearing man on New York subways. Though her pistol is still drawn and pointed toward Moe, and in effect Abe, her gaze is focused unerringly upon her fellow mechanically-minded-but-much-too-human ... friend. We'll go with 'friend'.
    That gutless meatbag.
    There is a slow shake of her head, "She fantasised sometimes, too... about killing him a little: a little poison in his pudding, a little flick-flick-flick with a fillet knife at his throat..." There's that inner-outer monologue again, like she's narrating some Noire flick that was probably first filmed in some foreign language, a hunger in her as she peers at the potential heap of human dilectables, before her attentions move to the site of her pistol.
    She fires again, two shots, lasers-mew-mew-mew!, and manages to not dust Abe. However, he is fully covered now in bits of what used to be a human being, flitting back down from the explosion of crisped flesh that land against any revealed skin as soft as feathers, flaking like cooled embers as they break apart in fair powder that trickles over his form and chokes in a smothering cloud.
    "They are leaving me nothing!" She cries to Vector, clearly displeased, the volume of her voice making the speaker that throws it crackle and static out.
Abe     The Hammer swung in once and Abe managed to step just beyond it's range. The hammer comes around again and Abe bends backwards, not at just the waist but at the knees, his back and back side go almost parallel to the ground. His left hand drops, closed fist making contact with the ground. The piston fired and he lurched back to his feet!

He could hear them zip by, that sharp whisper of wind as bloody holes opened up in the large man with his hammer, then the bright, hot flashes of weaponized science. He felt the heat, tasted the ash as it washed against him from a sudden breeze. Sputtering, he tries to spit out the last, worldly remains of the man... One left.

His attention swings around to Curly and he takes off in a run. He piles into the man with another heavy blow!

But he over-commited with the charge. When that iron pig he was carrying swept his way, Abe caught it all in the chest.

The bullets drill through his vest, drill through the numbness the whiskey offered.

Abe is sent sprawling, that fresh, wonderful taste of copper in his mouth as he peers up at the vast New Mexican sky.
Vector     Aim carefully. Breathe slowly. Then you can totally shoot and disable. Then Apostle can have a live subject to, uh, treat. Right. Treat. That'll work just fine!

    So, Vector takes careful aim, and then catches a bit of dust (Larry's Revenge) in his throat. He coughs, and the trigger is pulled - shit - and the round comes out of the barrel, promptly, as you guessed, robocoping Curly. There's a puff of blood, as the round goes straight through and does more damage than generall intended, sending Curly to the other side. Hey - at least he's not ash. Right?
Apostle     Apostle sighs, will collect Curly and ... Li'l Curly... and set them aside. Then, she will go to the withered husk of the automobile to see what she can find. From her location can be heard mad mutterings and the clattering of steel on steel as she wrenches free some thing or another, spewing out some quotes about the degredation of flesh as she works.
Vault Girl Larry, Curly, and Moe; the Bandit Triplets are killed without doing much harm to the group except for poor Abe who took multiple 7.62mm rounds to the chest. Two of the three brothers are nothing but ash and poor Curly, well the shock of his nuts being blown off combined with poison in his veins killed him almost instantly.

The van has several parts that Apostle and Vector need for their car Velocity but is otherwise a rusted pile of scrap that has been sitting out here for almost two hundred years...

A few valuables are found though.
Qwillis     Qwillis would check the needler then holster it, looking at the dead guys. "Well." So much for questioning. He'd walk over to the van the others were helping to salvage, doing his part as well in finding parts and what looked to actually be a decent.. golf club. "This could be handy.." He'd stash it under that coat. Never know when a melee weapon might come in handy!
Abe     Abe got shot...

Self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe. Maybe you don't run head long into the dim-bulb with a crudely sawed off machinegun. Just something to consider...

He peers skywards and then rolls, doing his best to ignore... just everything as he rolls onto his side and then makes it to his knees.

"You.. you folks have fun there." he managed, "I'm going to get a few holes plugged." That had one of two meanings... but the working folks at Kitty's didn't like stained sheets.
Apostle     With the threat handled, and loot now in tow -- given it was much more important to get what scrap she could BEFORE approaching Abe -- Apostle meanders toward the giant man with a lazy gait that suggests the image of someone that's just eaten a hefty meal and is preparing for turkey hibernation. When she gets there, she waits with a sort of trepidatious hesitation, squinting at the beast as her lips purse, hidden away by that mask.
    ... Hsssk...
    She just stares at him, as though this should reveal the mysteries of the cosmos to her, golden gaze finally trickling down from his face to his chest where the wounds bleed through.
    ... HSSK.
    A sudden intake of breath, the ash of the two that still pollute the air filtered through her rebreather, the exhalation of her breath washing warm spice up at him as she calculates his predicament. Finally, with some speed and fair accuracy, one of her rust-and-grease grimed fingers jabs toward one of the bulletwounds, and should he not move away, she will likely begin digging around for bullets.
    "Woe betide the leaders now perched on their dizzy pinnacles of triumph if they cast away at the conference table what the soldiers had won on a hundred bloodsoaked battlefields..." She murmurs through that crackling speaker, her finger curling even as he mentions departure, her head snapping up to fix him with a withering glare, a loud snort of air let out.
    Nobody appreciates her efforts.
    "Be wasted breath, then..." She immediately withdraws, jerking her hand away as though the mere closeness in proximity had burnt. She turns from him and begins to pace back toward Vector, footsteps nearly soundless.
Vector     With all the targets dead, Vector pulls the magazine from his marksman rifle, as he slings it back up and over his shoulder. He inspects the magazine, frowning a little as he then reaches into his side pouch, pacing off towards the object of their desire, tugging individual rounds from the pouch - slotting them into the magazine as he begins to pace towards it. Finishing his loading, he turns his head to look back towards Abe. He raises his hand, pointing at his eyes with two fingers before pointing at Abe. "Brave man, running at a machine gun." Is his comment on the fight.
    He swings his rifle back around, ensuring the safety is engaged before he loads the magazine back in and swings it back over his shoulder. Reaching the vehicle, he eyes Qwillis for a moment before giving an approving nod at the man's choice of loot. Inspecting the glove compartment, he takes a sheathed knife - inspects it - and then slips it into the loop of his belt and begins clipping it into place. He then turns to look towards Apostle, fumbling in the drivers seat for a moment before he then manages to pop the hood - and then moves to peel it back with a reverent gesture for Apostle to then delve into its guts. "For after you've finished with the guts of one. Here's the guts of the other."
Emily Emily steps out from the rocky cover she had taken, opening her revolver up and replacing the bullet she shot with a fresh one as she heads over towards the others, tucking her pistol away once more.

"I guess it was a bit of a honey trap, huh? Looks good to lure folk in and rob and murder them, I'd guess." She says, casting a glance at the downed brothers, huhing softly. "You guys okay? Anyone need bandaging up or anything?"
Abe     And then came the crazy one. Pots and kettles aside, he turns those two, red little eye panels down towards her. Was there some kindness behind that mask, compassion in the maze of her words. His expression was lost for the helmet. He waited, it wasn't a long wait, the rcycling of her respirator keeping time.

She moves, if he were not a poor comparrison, he would say it was like a snake. Stung as much as one, fingers prodding into a warm, wet wound bored into him by a bullet, the meat of his squeezing around her digit as she probed and his body contracted, stiffening. A choked sound escaped him and he staggered away. She had said something, something broad-minded and thoughtful. He couldn't hear it for the thunder of his heart in his ears, the roar of blood that someone had once told him, reminded them of the ocean.

He upsets her and she departs. Is this a good thing or bad?! He isn't sure. The man with the rifle speaks. The mask swings around towards him, "Something.. like that." he confesses before he sets a hand... somewhere. He had more holes than hands. A horse was the next item on his agenda, his horse.
Apostle     Emily just gets another of those tell-tale looks from Apostle.
    Everyone gets one today, it seems.
    She's near feral in her ability to interact with the civilized folk, so truly and fully lost to the wasteland as she is. There's a blink of wide, ravenous eyes, made all the more obvious by the bleeding khol that streaks down her cheeks to disappear beneath her mask. Her jaw works, visible even beneath the rebreather's cast, from side to side, unbreathing, unmoving, unblinking -- a statue of stone and steel left to rust in her resounding stillness.
    Jesus christ, that comes out of nowhere.
    "Wasted time and wasted breath,"
    "'S what I'll make, until my death."
    "Helping people'd be as good,"
    "But I wouldn't, if I could."

    Hssk. Hssk. Hssk.

    "For the few that help deserve,"
    "Have no need, or not the nerve,"
    "Help from strangers to accept,"
    "Plus from mine a few have wept."

    One shoulder raises in a half-shrug.

    "Wept from joy, or from despair,"
    "Or just from my vengeful stare."
    "Ways I have, to look at stupid,"
    "Make them see I am not Cupid."

    "Make them see they are in error,"
    "For of truth I am a bearer."
    "Most decide I'm just a bear,"
    "Mauling at them, - like I care."

    A blink, the stare continuing at Emily as though that... stirring oration should explain everything. Her shoulders roll then and she turns away from the others to stride purposefully toward Vector, and the innards of the vehicle. She sets her loot down, pulling free her tools from the utility belt as she fairly flings herself over the edge of the gaping maw of the vehicle's hood, digging deeply in the search for some relic or artifact of import to her dear Velocity, "Her heart is cold and veins are in collapse," She grunts, pushing further, leaving just her legs stretched out of the innards almost comedic in nature. "But, still there is life... still, quiet life..."
Vector     Vector doesn't seem to understand machines, considering the way he peeks at what Apostle's doing with the regard of someone that might go 'Oh yeah, that's right' - while not knowing anything about it. Ensuring that the hood is properly propped up - so that it doesn't slam down on Apostle and result in him getting shot with a laser pistol. With that done, the turban and veil wearing man sharply turns on a heel - giving a slow and proper look around to /just/ make sure that nobody comes charging up out of the blue to avenge the three (now dead) stoogies.
    "We'll take it. Put it in Velocity - bring the beast back to life, make it roar and rampage." He states to his mechanical-loving partner in crime, as he proceeds to tug his M9 beretta up, to inspect and ensure that it too is loaded and primed for action. "Take a bit of the scrap, we'll put the parts we need on it, and I'll drag it. Slow, steady."
Emily "Oh yeah, that." Emily says as Apostle gives her little speech of inspiration and.. poetry? She nods her head slightly at the woman, "I couldn't have said it any better myself."

The woman watches the scavenging just a bit before hrmning softly, "We should start back soon I think, don't want to get caught by any friends they have come looking for them."
Apostle     Apostle continues digging about for a few more moments before making an appearance.
    "It will do." She mentions to Vector, then nods toward Emily. She collects what she can and ... starts heading off in an appropriate location, apparently expecting that everything will be handled appropriately.