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Gwin So .. you killed the leader of the trio. Rather than scare the other two, they rushed you. You were able to swing your gun around to cap one in the shoulder. By then they were inside your range and a fight ensued. Though it didn't look like a cartoon tangle of limbs poking out of a cloud of dust, that's what it felt like. Somehow, during the chaos of the fight, you lost your gun, but took out the one with the shoulder wound with a well placed kick to the groin.

Before you could gloat, a new voice cut through the air with a ring of authority. "Enough fucking around!"

You were almost able to turn around to see the cause of the voice when something hit you on the side of the head with a crack that vibrated through your skull and darkness consumed you.

Hours, days, weeks later, your first return to conciousness is a dull ache on the left side of your face. Next is the realization that you're flat on your back on the ground. Things roam over your body. Rodents? Small ones? Bugs? Big ones?
Walker Well that certainly didn't turn out how he expected, he figured they'd all die by his gun or he would die by theirs. Unfortunatly life never turns out how you planned it. Walker looks around, his eyes rapidly opening as the feeling of something crawling over his body finally registers with his brain. "What the fuck." He tries to jump up, brush the stuff off of him and get away from whatever it is. All the while his eyes dart about to find out where he is and who is nearby. His hand trails down to his holster, searching for the magnum he keeps for emergencies.
Gwin Slowly, you body starts to obey you. Your eyes open to reveal a sky the colour of dust, and a thick beam holding it up. Wait .. are those bars on the ceiling?

And jumping up proves to be difficult as you're pinned at the waist. You do, however, sit up. That crawling sensation ends with a sound of disgust and brings you face to face with the source of that sounds. It's a woman with brown hair tumbled all around her shoulders, dressed in a faded blue Red Rocket jumpsuit. "Oh, you're up," says she, sounding unimpressed, as she gets off your lap. If that's not enough to stay your hand from your holster to make a grab at her, she goes to lean against a corner of the cage. Yes, the two of you are in a cage, inside a tent. And there, just beyond your reach, is a mountain of duffle bags and a very familiar looking rifle tossed among them.
Walker Walker is just too groggy and startled to even think about grabbing her when he first woke up. Now it seems like a good idea given that she was just frisking him and probably took some shit. "What the hell were you doing with me? Trying to take my stuff?" He narrows his eyes at her and watches her carefully while he checks his pockets for important things like the picture of his family, money and other such things...including his gun. "Also, why am I in a jail cell?" His hand then carefully moves up to rub at his scalp, checking for the damage from the hit that knocked him out. "Where are we exactly?"
Gwin Arms crossed over her chest, the woman lets out a dry laugh. "Me? Take your stuff? I'm no thief," says she, clearly offended. She vaguely gestures towards the pile of stuff on the other side of the bars. "If you had any shit, it's there. You've nothing left worth taking." Did he have a rusksack or a bag of some sort? If so, it's in that pile. If not, well, his shit is in one of those bags there. He has no money. No guns. Nothing useful, she knows. She checked. All that's left of his personal belongings are the clothes on his body, and the photo that was lodged in the corner of his pocket and was overlooked by those that took his things. Wasn't of interest to her.

"Welcome to Camp Happy, where you're fed slop in a bowl once a day, and get glimpses of the sun through the open tent flap a little more frequently." Not an answer he's looking for, but an answer nonetheless.
Walker Walker doesn't believe anyone that would frisk an unconcious man to not be a thief. Well unless she was really desperate for a man and had other intentions while he was out, really he finds that doubtful. Of course he had a backpack, waste pouch, canteen, well all the survival stuff you'd expect. He left his big pack at home though, the big one with tent and sleeping stuff in it. "Had lots of shit, you don't go out into the wasteland without making sure you can make it back out. " He gives her a once over, noting that his cellmate was way hotter than he'd expect to get put in with, even though she is probably worse for wear right now, just like him. "Yeah that isn't what I meant. I meant where, in the wasteland? Are we in jail or ...otherwise detained? Also, why did they put me in here with you?" It isn't common, he imagines, to put a young girl in a cell with a rough looking guy like himself. "Anyway I'm Walker."
Gwin "Gwin," comes her answer. The woman opens her mouth to say more, but her mouth snaps shut with a click when the tent flap opens, startling her. Glowering at Walker because he's obviously somehow to blame for all this, she remains in her corner.

In comes a raider, easily identified by her armour, which comes as no surprise to him. She has a shaved head and heavy tattoos on her face. Natrually, her armour is a collection of rusted out metal pieces studded with rebar here and there. She pokes her head in the tent flap then turns to shout "He's awake," to some unknown source.

Waiting there a moment, someone else obviously approaches and gives her some thing. In she enters, carrying some metal circular objects in her hand. Behind her, another raider enders, shotgun in one hand. The other holds a ring of keys. He walks to the door and open it to let the chick in, closes it shut, then lifts his shotgun and levels it towards Walker.

The female raider turns to Gwin. Whistling to herself, she opens one of those metal rings and snaps it around the woman's neck. Gwin doesn't fight it. What's the point when there's a man with a shotgun standing on the other side of the bars? Then she turns towards Walker and opens another collar, ready to advance upon him. As she does, and all attention is turned on the man in the cell, there's a blur of quick movement as the now collared woman who claims not to be a thief deftly removes something from the other woman.

"Turn around," barks the female raider, staying out of Walker's range for the moment, "or he'll pump ya full of lead."
Walker Walker certainly did his best to prevent this from happening, up to and including endangering his life. "What?" he mutters as she gives him that look, though his eyes quickly dart to the new intruder. He has a lot he wants to say, they should have killed him already, he would have done the same for them. Unfortunatly that just isn't wise to say right now, best to wait and see what they have in store for him. "I was counting on being pumped full of lead a long time ago." He turns around anyway and does as instructed. "Would be best for all involved if that had been the case. Oh well, do your thing." He really has no chance now, and being gunned down in a metal cage just doesn't seem like a good idea at this point.
Gwin What a way to go out: shot down like a fish in a barrel. Since he's decided that's not to happen today, the raider snaps the collar around his neck. Then she grabs for his hand and clicks a metal ring to it. Handcuffs. Still holding his arm, she gestures for Gwin to approach.

With a huge sigh, the brunette comes over and dutifully holds out her arm so she's cuffed her left hand to his right. "Stay turned around," she barks again while the male raider unlocks the cage to let her out. It shuts again behind her, leaving the ring of metal clicking against metal in the air.

Gwin turns to look over her shoulder. The male raider chuckles to himself, pleased with how smoothly that went. The two raiders grab a bunch of stuff from that pile (yes, including Walker's gun) and head out.

"Fuck .." Gwin whispers reacing for the cuff around her wrist to probe it with her fingers.
Walker Walker didn't see that he really had much of a choice right there, he was much better situated to fight out in the wasteland and look how that turned out! He nods to Gwin's comment, totally agreeing with her. "So I'm just supposed to stay here? What the hell do you guys want? Just fucking kill me already if that's your plan." They are walking away though and unlikely to hear him. "No chance your a good lock picker huh?" He mutters to the girl while checking out his own lock. "I'm guessing slave trade? Who knows who we could get sold to." He frowns then, imagining she will have it much worse for him in that case. "We need to get out of here."
Gwin Gwin reaches up with her free hand to explore the collar around her neck. "Shock collar," she confirms, "used by slavers. Fuck. Me." She sighs again just as more raiders come in to take from the pile near the door. They come in a constant stream, ignoring the soon-to-be slaves and the pile diminishes to nothing. The next time the tent flap is pulled back, a pair of raiders enter. One unlocks the door while the other holds a gun on the hapless pair. "C'mon," this raider's voice is gruff. He reaches in for Gwin's arm and gives her a yank towards the tent flap.

"Guess we're going hiking? Was wondering what y'all did for excercise here at Camp Happy," she retorts, quickly recovering from the yank that pulled her off balance. She's ready to head out into the sunlight, rendered blinding bright by her time in the tent.
Walker Walker isn't going to miss anything from that pile except for the free caps he had on him and the guns, the rest of it is all easily replaceable. What he has to worry about now is his life, and the girl who is obviously tied to his fate. "Yep and I guess we are stuck together." Now he wishes he had a bath or something, neither one of them could smell that good. "Not sure why you call it camp happy, this is obviously going to be a nightmare." He moves to keep up with the girl, grumbling about how they should have shot him again.
Gwin Outside, in the blinding sun, the 'camp' they're in is revealed. it's not a haphazard, makeshift group of bandits that have set up some temporary home. No. This is a fortified camp around a run down farmstead. The collection of buldings are fortified by a wall of junk topped with barbed wire. In addition to the automated turrets placed in strategic locations, there are a couple of guards on duty staring out into the wasteland. No, this is some sort of home base, and one that's unknown to Walker. But then, he's new to the area, isn't he?

It takes Gwin a couple of blinks to adjust to the light outside. It's not long, but long enough that she gets another shove, this time to her back, to push her in the desired direction towards a well in the center of the encampment.

Loitered around the well area collection of other slaves, all obviously tired, hungry, and hopeless. They too are cuffed in pairs, and take turns drinking from the well. Must be at least twelve pairs there, ranging from children to the elderly. Not a one of them looks like they have any fight left in them, let alone capable of holding their own.

Before them is a wagon loaded with the stolen good from the tent. Walker's rifle is among them, tucked in between two black bags.

"Weeks of solitude in this place will be nothing close to the nightmare coming when we get where we're going," Gwin mutters, joining the line for water. When it's her turn, she guzzles from the metal spoon before giving it to Walker. "At least -you- didn't have to endure that." Neither did she, truth be told, but she'll let him belive what he wants.
Walker Walker squints and tries to adjust to the light, this probably isn't hte best time to escape though. Still, he keeps looking around and tries to note anything he can that might aid them in escaping later on. For now he needs to find something to help pick the locks with, a small wire or nail might do. "Keep an eye out for something to help us escape. As soon as I can I will take off at the first opprotunity. I'm not going to be captured and honestly, I'm sort of stuck with you so I need you to get with the program." He gulps down his water and nods. "No but I did get the shit kicked out of me. At least I killed one of them before they took me down."
Gwin "Well. That explains the shotgun," says Gwin, looking around. She keeps her voice low and moves to join the train of cargo, aka slaves near the middle. That puts them a couple of pairs back from the wagon of goods.

On the other side of the well, purses of caps exchange hands and one heavily armoured raider shouts that it's time to move out. Browbeaten and possibly physically beaten slaves groan and begin to plod along after the wagon. Time to get this show on the road. Guards flank the group, armed with weapons both to keep the cargo in line, and safe from interlopers. Wouldn't do to have the slaves freed by some errant good Samaritan.

The day is spent walking and the encampment becomes nothing but a memory. A distant one. When night falls, the slaves are given their gruel, taken out a pair at a time to piss, and then settled on the ground for sleep, all the while guarded by seven armoured men with guns. They take turns sitting at the fire and standing watch.

After the embarrassment of practically stripping naked in order to pee behind an outcropping of rocks, Gwin's mood is sour. Why the hell did she decide on an jumpsuit anyway? The gruel has meat it in today, which is something. It's barely enough to keep her stomach from growling. If things keep up, it won't be long before she's as weak as those around her. When they're bedded down for the night on the hard ground, she pulls out her stolen object. It's a ring of keys, but none of them fit the handcuffs linking her to Walker's fate. Quietly muttering curses, she picks up a rock and starts to run one of the keys down it, slowly grinding down the teeth on the key when the guards aren't looking.
Walker Walker is a gentleman and ..well this isn't the most sexy of situations anyway. He doesn't look and does his utmost to make her comfortable enough by closing his eyes and whistling or singing a tune. "Maybe you should..sew up a little flap at the back, kind of like with long johns? " He is always looking at the ground or checking his clothes for something that can be used to pick the lock. Maybe a belt buckle, zipper..something? "Don't give up, then we can run..or just don't bother with the locks. Better to just run off when we know we can get away and worry about the locks later." At n ight he lays down quietly, keeping his back to her and doing his utmost to keep an eye out for openings the guards might leave.
Gwin Gwin stops her work on the key to pocket it. She reaches up to explore the collar around her neck. "Sure .. " she drawls, exploring the latch at the back of her neck with her right hand, "until they notice we're gone and hit the button to blow our heads off." She scoffs at the idea, shaking her head. "Better to wait it out for now. Maybe they'll be a chance once we're sold. I just hope I can find my own way back to El Dorado." She sighs a little and turns over, refusing to respond to any further attempts at small talk while she tries to get some shut eye. She'll need it for the coming days.