Part 20 – Things get politicized!

I was in a lawless place down, keeping quiet and relaxed so that my superhuman LocalSenses would pick up anyone wishing to harm my poor self. Strangely, I felt my own powers grow stronger, able to tell now who was friendly and who was not.

Still, things were awfully quiet surprisingly, on the lonely HED-GP Highway. I cruised on, and on and on, looking for a port of call, a place I could call home for a little while as I plundered this new land. Occasionally a few bandits or those weird Sansha cultists would attack me, but I fought back with renewed resolution. Their deaths were unavoidable, as they wanted it this way.

I would of course, honor their memories by looting every drop of cash and useful wreckage from their burned and twisted wrecks. Amongst these newfound treasures was a very expensive ‘Gisti-A’ Wedding Ring, I slyly pulled off someone’s dead finger. Nope, my conscience wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

Still. For the scare talk I heard back in Empire City or by those spineless corp-mates I had, this was a lot less dangerous than I had imagined! The rumors of a militant ‘Company of Siblings’, retired WW2 airborne soldiers fighting ‘Ascending Pioneers’, a mob of industrialized secessionists from some long-dead democracy seemed to be just rumors and tall tales. Perhaps people out here were decent folk after all.

That’s what I thought, until I met the Russians.

Driving to Immensea County, I met a local welcome. Russians were there, chattering in their incomprehensible language and waiting on the onramp to the next short interstate section. I drove for the ramp still, thinking to not garner attention…

They hit me pretty hard, and I swerved dramatically to avoid being badly hurt. There were vehicles of all sizes, but I was managing to evade most of their hate quite adeptly. I fired back, severely damaging one of them. Oddly, the instant it was hurt, the driver seemed to have ‘spaced out’, and the car sped off into some unknown direction. It was an odd strategy that felt strangely dirty to me, but still seemed like a frequent trick of these types.

I made it to the highway through the void created by Comrade Logoffski (as his vanity plate read as he drove off), and sped down the road, leaving them in the dust of this trusty Crow. She was such a large improvement over my previous Condor, even though both had that awkwardly banged up wing. It was absolutely amazing what a new red paint job, a pair of bulky missile racks and a nice ‘II’ sticker pasted on the side does to an otherwise mediocre car.

Up ahead was a rest stop, and I pulled over. It seemed friendly and these folks didn’t shoot first at least, lacking the odd prejudice against all colors except blue that many had in these wild parts. I drove in and placed my Crow into a nice, safe garage. It was time for a rest, and to learn more about local politics out in 0.0. How complicated could it possibly be to stay in a nice, safe area and not worry about the fighting all around?

My mind boggled, and my chest hurt at what I saw next.

(To be continued…)