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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 18, 2011 18:56:50 GMT -7
Joe walked out the door of the main compound, which, in the past few days, has started to look more and more like a large apartment. The Irishman was carrying two boxes full of 7.62 mm AP rounds. They were gearing up for the 'road trip', meaning snacks, drinks, and ammo.
AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" blared throughout the garage, it's pitch leading up to an event. And then Joe saw the J-10. It wasn't the first time Joe had seen it, having viewed Mike modify it. He just wished he had kept the yellow and blue paint job. It gave it that 'urban survivor' feel.
He saw Mike's feet sticking out from under the J-10, or as he affectionately called it, "The Zombie Wrecker", and smirked. He walked over, setting the two boxes of 7.62's into the bed of the truck, which now had a roll cage, and kicked his ninja friend.
"Oi, Mike, how much longer? I wanna see my baby purr." Joe affectionately rubbed the side of the J-10. No matter how many mods Mike would put on it, it was still his Jeep. He found it, finders keepers.
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Post by God Mike on Apr 18, 2011 19:16:35 GMT -7
"THUNDER!" Mike sang in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Brian Johnson's voice, as he finished welding the final blade to the underside of the Jeep. If anything managed to escape the wheels now, they'd never escape the bladed underside on the Zombie Wrecker.
Mike felt a kick on his leg and turned off the blow torch, rolling out from under the Jeep. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he took off his Riddick style welding goggles. "Oi, Mike, how much longer? I wanna see my baby purr." Joe said, and Mike snorted, shaking his head. Seriously?
"And you're supposed to be the smart one," he said as he stood up, putting the torch and goggles on the workbench by the wall. "You can't see something purr. You hear it, mate," Mike said, stretching. "And she's been ready to ride for the last few days now. I've just been adding various death-bringing items to her. And now..."
Mike grinned widely as he headed off to the corner of the garage, pulling the tarp off something there and grabbing it, turning around to face Joe, showing that he was holding an M60 in his hands. "Time to mount Big Baby."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 18, 2011 21:46:09 GMT -7
Joe's grin grew, having started to walk back to the compound for his 'special' package, and a few more supplies.
"Alright, man. Now we're in business! Just gotta get a few more things, and we're off." Joe said, turning back towards the door to the compound. The garage was there, as secure as the rest of the Bunker, but he still needed to lock everything up, and set the alarms. And make sure to keep everything valuable and flammable apart and in secret places.
After a couple minutes, he had everything locked down, alarms set, valuables and flammables separate and contained. Joe came out with a box of 7.62 mm 'Incendiary' rounds and a duffel full of snacks.
Joe popped a few Tic-Tacs, savoring them. He hadn't had any for a long, long time. He set the box of ammunition and the duffel in the back, and pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Thunderstruck" was still playing, the music pumping his blood with adrenaline.
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Post by God Mike on Apr 18, 2011 23:20:37 GMT -7
As Joe left, Mike got to work attaching the M60 to the mount he'd installed on the Jeep. Homemade, of course. Once he'd mounted the M60 and gotten off the bed of the Zombie Wrecker, he took a moment to look over his baby.
Something was missing... Humming, Mike put on his gas mask and took out a can of red spray paint, and got to work painting his insignia (a gas mask with two ninja-to crossed behind it) on the right wheel cover.
Joe came back just as Mike finished the insignia, looking over it with a grin behind his mask. An artist had to sign his work, after all. "This is one mean motherfucker," he told Joe with a loud, maniacal laugh.
"Well, time to go, then?" Mike asked, opening the passenger door, then glanced at Joe. "I'm guessing there's no way in hell I'm driving?"
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 18, 2011 23:46:08 GMT -7
"The only way you'd ever drive my baby is if I was dead, asleep, or too shot up to turn the wheel." Joe said, placing a mug of coffee in the cup holder. He checked the mags for his Glocks. Full clips. Checked his carbine. Full clips too. Joe nodded in satisfaction.
"Yeah, we're ready to go. Just keep the back window open, in case that you have to man the gun." Joe said, placing a bag of chips between their seats. It was going to be a long drive up to New York, or what used to be New York, and it was going to be even tougher getting to Empire City.
"So, you have everything locked and loaded?" The Irishman grabbed two boxes of .357 Magnum rounds, two boxes of .44 Magnums, and a box of 7.62 rounds, having switched out the M1A1's feed and barrel to compensate. He threw the .44's onto Mike's side, as he was probably going to need them. Joe grabbed a MOLLE pack found in the storage closet when he found the Bunker and stuffed it under his seat. They needed fast-packs in case they needed to abandon the J-10, heaven forbid.
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Post by God Mike on Apr 18, 2011 23:54:21 GMT -7
"The only way you'd ever drive my baby is if I was dead, asleep, or too shot up to turn the wheel." Figures... He only said that because those were the only scenarios that were never gonna happen... In other words, Mike would never be allowed to drive.
"Yeah, we're ready to go. Just keep the back window open, in case that you have to man the gun." Mike nodded as he got into the passenger seat, sliding open the back window and taking off his backpack, putting it between his legs.
"So, you have everything locked and loaded?" Mike nodded again as he opened his backpack. He missed Cat... He hoped the cat was alright. He looked through his pack to make sure he had a bunch of speed loaders ready, along with extra ammunition for both the pistols and shotgun. Speaking of the shotgun...
"Oh, hey! Check this out!" Mike said suddenly, gesturing for something Joe probably hadn't seen. On the left side of Mike's seat, he'd bolted a makeshit holster, which held his shotgun. "Makes for easy drawing in case I run out of ammo," he said as he leaned back. "And I also put a cup holder in the back, for whoever mans the M60, i.e. me."
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 19, 2011 0:18:35 GMT -7
Joe grinned slightly as he picked up the garage remote. He pressed the button, opening the heavy metal shutters to the Bunker, light shining throughout the garage. Turning the key in the ignition, the J-10 roared to life, causing Joe to grin even more. He changed the gear to 'Drive' and sped forward, shooting through the gap made by the doors, which began to close soon after.
Joe let out a loud whoop as the Jeep sped along the dirt road, the Bunker being an isolated facility. A few minutes later, the J-10 slid onto the road with a squeal before speeding north towards New York, hoping to find swag, his stuff, and some action along the way.
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Post by God Mike on Apr 19, 2011 0:30:57 GMT -7
Mike stroked the dashboard, grinning widely behind his gas mask. "Ah, nothing compares to the roar of a wrathful woman," he said giddily as he listened to the engine. Deciding to amuse himself, Mike upholstered one of his revolvers, and held it like a microphone, speaking into the grip.
"Hello, and thank you for flying Mike Air. This is your co-pilot speaking. Please remain in your seats until the 'Fasten your seatbelts' sign is turned off. At noon, we will be serving lunch, and at two, we will be showing our feature film."
Holstering his gun, Mike sighed. "Well... that was only slightly amusing..." he muttered in boredom, stomping the floor. "Craaaap! Not even five minutes, and I'm already bored!"
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Post by Generalfoley on Apr 19, 2011 0:47:06 GMT -7
Joe chuckled at Mike's antics, but inwardly groaned. A bored Mike was a dangerous Mike. The Irishman looked over the interior, while keeping eyes on the road. Just because there wasn't traffic didn't mean that there weren't cars. It was a rather good thing there were flat lands around for miles, otherwise they'd be fucked six ways to Sunday.
The interior was relatively unchanged, minus the holster Mike installed. That was good, in Joe's book. He didn't want everything changed, after all.
Joe thought of the time they still had. Four hours , fifty minutes. Crap.
"Well," Joe began, switching on the radio to an automated rock station. "Might as well enjoy the ride." "Highway to Hell" came on, and as Joe rocked his head to it, he almost anticipated the fight through New York.
Almost.
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