Time to fix this place up (Joe)

[God Mike]

“Well, I know she said that, but, mate, women can be a bit, hm, complicated,” Mike spoke into the radio in the bunker. For the last week now, he had been staying in contact with a man in Empire City, calling himself the White Ninja, which was perfect for Mike, as he called himself the Black Ninja on the radio.

“So, what am I supposed to do, Black Ninja?” the voice asked. The guy sounded like a teenager, maybe fifteen years old? Therefore, he saw Mike as something of a mentor. Mike was happy to offer his advice. Lighting a cigarette, Mike took a drag from it and exhaled. He hadn't been much for smoking a couple of years ago, but now, he was smoking a lot, but nowadays he only smoked his own cigarettes, which he rolled with the tobacco from his tobacco plants in the greenhouse deep inside the bunker. He called them Mikesticks.

“Listen, White Ninja, here's what you do,” Mike spoke into the microphone, taking another drag on his cigarette. “You sweep her off her feet. When she said she doesn't want you to do anything special for you, it means she secretly wants you to do just that. So, do something special. Take her out for a romantic dinner, as romantic as you can make it in this day and age. I don't know what. Ask your dad.”

“Alright, I'll try it,” White Ninja said, and Mike could practically feel him nod. “Thanks, Black Ninja, for more brilliant advice.”

“It was my pleasure, mate. Black Ninja, out.”

With that, Mike turned off the radio and stood up, stretching. He needed some sunlight. He had been in that bunker for the last four hours, and it was getting too dark for his tastes, despite the lights. The lights were very dim, to conserve energy in the massive generator they were running. Most of the systems were shut down while Joe was away, because Mike had no idea how to operate them.

Heading outside, Mike stretched once the blazing sun hit his face. He loved summer, even though it was unbearably hot after the zombie apocalypse. He had always loved summers, after living through Swedish winters. But now, after going through a Russian winter, he really loved summers. Therefore, the only show of being affected by the sun he showed was unzipping his hoodie jacket. His hood was off, too.

Taking another drag on his cigarette, which had a very special, peculiar taste, which Mike found that he really liked, he saw a dust cloud in the distance. He squinted and brought up his hand, covering his eyes from the sun. Still not seeing what it was, Mike grabbed a pair of binoculars hanging on the left side of his backpack, bringing it up to his eyes.

Now he saw it. There, in the distance... the Wrecker... And it was pulling a trailer with it. Mike didn't know why, if Joe had gone for supplies, he didn't use the Mack, but hey, to each his own, right? Mike stood and waited as the Wrecker came closer and closer, finally coming to a stop in front of him.

As Joe stepped out of the truck, Mike leaned to the side to look around the Wrecker and look at what was on the trailer. Since building supplies was the last thing looters thought of when the ransacked the cities, it was relatively easy to get it for free. Therefore, Joe probably didn't even have to buy more than half this stuff.

“I see that when you said you were going out for some supplies, you may have been lying a bit.”

[Generalfoley]

Joe was glad for the first time in what felt like years.

Wait.

It was years.

He and Mike had gotten back to North American soil six or seven months prior, they had gotten back to the Bunker relatively unscathed, and there was nary a zombie in sight. The minefield he set up before they left probably helped, but still, it was a good thing. But, when they arrived, they noticed that they needed to add on a few things to the Bunker to accommodate the Mack and some of the stuff they brought back from Eurasia.

Which is why Joe was driving back from Empire City now. Since they had a specialty with making building materials by now, Joe had managed to purchase a great deal of concrete, metal and other parts of which they could use to build the add-ons he and Mike were building, and then some. Then he went for the donuts. Empire City also had a delightful bakery near the gate that baked bread, cakes, and pies that even the most well fed living beings of the zombie apocalypse salivated at the prospect of chowing down on them.

Joe did not pay attention to the bread, nor the cakes or pies. Nay, he went for their perfectly made doughnuts. He had bought all kinds, from jelly filled to chocolate covered to sprinkled, and even the plain looking glazed, his favorite.

It was half the reason why he went to Empire City in the first place. Other than the supplies, of course.

It was little after two hours he had departed from EC, and the trip was honestly a bit boring. Sure, he ran over a zombie or two, but that kind of lost its novelty after the eight time washing the blood off your window.

Joe pulled into the road that led to the Bunker, taking a glance at the boxes in his passenger seat. He had bought around two dozen doughnuts from the bakery, and it was all worth it. It took another couple of minutes for Joe to drive up the road before he pulled up in front of the Bunker, seeing Mike outside for once, taking in the fresh air and smoking his Mikestick.

Joe stepped out of the truck, stretching once he hit dirt as Mike leaned to look at the load he was carrying.

“I see that when you said you were going out for some supplies, you may have been lying a bit.” Joe chuckled at that.

"I don't think I lied, I just think that my conception of the term 'some' is on a different scale than yours is." Joe looked at the trailer. "Besides, at least a quarter of that is for the guns, with another quarter is stuff to go into the Bunker." He looked at Mike before he reached inside and grabbed the doughnuts. "I gotta update the computers from the old crap systems that are in there, along with a lot of the radio equipment." He had been planning to do it since they got back, but he hadn't really come around to it until now.

"So I got Doughnuts from the Bakery in EC," Joe said, shutting the door to the Wrecker before he made his way inside.

[God Mike]

"I don't think I lied, I just think that my conception of the term 'some' is on a different scale than yours is. Besides, at least a quarter of that is for the guns, with another quarter is stuff to go into the Bunker," Joe said, before reaching into the Wrecker and taking out... was that EC donuts? Mike twitched. He loved those, he had to admit. Too bad he'd already smoked his Mikestick. "I gotta update the computers from the old crap systems that are in there, along with a lot of the radio equipment."

Mike just nodded as he followed Joe back to the Bunker. It was a shame that he had to go back inside so soon when he had just come out, but ah well. Joe glanced at him. "So I got Doughnuts from the Bakery in EC," he said, and Mike sighed audibly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“It's typical that you come back with donuts when I've smoked a cigarette that prevents anything from tasting good for the next three hours. If you'd just shown up a couple of minutes before I lit up, I could've eaten some of those, but nooooo, you had to come after I smoked my Mikestick. That's just typical...”

As they walked, Mike remembered something, and nudged Joe with his elbow. “By the way, I blacked out for some time earlier. When I woke up, I found that Erik had recorded a message for me. It was really weird hearing my voice saying the things that dude said...”

[Generalfoley]

“It's typical that you come back with donuts when I've smoked a cigarette that prevents anything from tasting good for the next three hours. If you'd just shown up a couple of minutes before I lit up, I could've eaten some of those, but nooooo, you had to come after I smoked my Mikestick. That's just typical...” Joe chuckled as he set the donuts on the table.

"Well, maybe you should try to make a cigarette blend that doesn't kill your sense of taste." Joe felt a nudge by Mike, and he looked over. “By the way, I blacked out for some time earlier. When I woke up, I found that Erik had recorded a message for me. It was really weird hearing my voice saying the things that dude said...”

Joe raised an eyebrow and took a donut out of the box. "So what did he say? I'm not going to find any bodies around here, am I?" Joe said as he took a bite out of his donut. These moist and succulent pastries had to be the food of the gods...

[God Mike]

"Well, maybe you should try to make a cigarette blend that doesn't kill your sense of taste."

“Tch!” Mike scoffed and crossed his arms, staring at Joe in slight disbelief. “Mate, I am the mechanic of the team, I am the slicer-n-dicer, the crackshot, the joker, and sometimes, when there are no other options, I'm the cook. I'm not a herbalist or some shit that can grow tobacco perfectly, and neither am I a cigarette maker who can make the perfect blend. T'fuck you think I am? God?”

Mike couldn't believe Joe sometimes. Mike was great and all, but he couldn't do just anything simply because he wanted. If Mike could make a better-tasting cigarette, did Joe really believe that he would still be smoking the Mikesticks? Tch, Mike really wanted a donut right now... I would taste so good... Hell, they smelled divine!

"So what did he say? I'm not going to find any bodies around here, am I?"

“Well, I'll quote him, but since I really don't want to talk like Erik, I'ma make it family friendly by bleeping him,” Mike said, then cleared his throat. “'Hey, you motherbleeping piece of bleep! Since I managed to bleeping finally come out and bleep some bleep up, I decided to leave you a message. It goes like this: Stop bleeping around you bleeping little bleep! If you don't stop being a bleep and kill that motherbleeper Joke...' He actually called you Joke. '...I'm gonna come out again, and I'm gonna bleeping murder everyone you hold dear, before skullbleeping the bleeping lot of them!'”

Mike shrugged. “So, basically, he said the same old shit he always says. Needless to say, you won't have to worry about me slitting your throat in your sleep to preserve the lives of those I hold dear, 'cause he makes that threat pretty much every time he decides to threaten me. He has yet to go through with it, though.”

[Generalfoley]

Mike scoffed at Joe’s statement, but Joe pretty much ignored it. He got this way sometimes when he smoked his home-blend.

“Mate, I am the mechanic of the team, I am the slicer-n-dicer, the crackshot, the joker, and sometimes, when there are no other options, I'm the cook. I'm not a herbalist or some shit that can grow tobacco perfectly, and neither am I a cigarette maker who can make the perfect blend. T'fuck you think I am? God?”

"I think the term you'd be looking for was 'botanist'," Joe said, looking over with a flat smile before taking a bite out of his doughnut.

“Well, I'll quote him, but since I really don't want to talk like Erik, I'ma make it family friendly by bleeping him,” There was never any such thing as family friendly when it came to Erik.

“'Hey, you motherbleeping piece of bleep! Since I managed to bleeping finally come out and bleep some bleep up, I decided to leave you a message. It goes like this: Stop bleeping around you bleeping little bleep! If you don't stop being a bleep and kill that motherbleeper Joke...' He actually called you Joke. '...I'm gonna come out again, and I'm gonna bleeping murder everyone you hold dear, before skullbleeping the bleeping lot of them!'” That was actually far more family friendly than Joe thought it would be.

“So, basically, he said the same old shit he always says. Needless to say, you won't have to worry about me slitting your throat in your sleep to preserve the lives of those I hold dear, 'cause he makes that threat pretty much every time he decides to threaten me. He has yet to go through with it, though.”

"Aye, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try at some point,” Joe said, walking over to the counter. “Erik’s a dangerous personality, both because of his lack of positive morals,” Joe put the doughnut down and searched the cupboards for a mostly clean cup. “And because he resides within you, having your skills and your knowledge… Aha!” Joe found a mostly clean cup and filled it with the coffee he had brewed earlier that morning.

“As much as I hate to feed your ego, you’re a force to be reckoned with,” Joe would pay for that later. He sipped at the coffee, a slight grimace crossing his face as he tasted the mostly cold beverage. “So forgive me if I don’t let my guard down.” Or even sleep.

Joe decided to change the topic, thinking that Mike might get either uncomfortable or his ego get even more inflated. “So I found some materials back in EC that I thought you’d take a liking to,” The Irishman took another bite out of his doughnut, washing it down with cold coffee.

[God Mike]

"Aye, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try at some point,” Joe said in response to Mike's reassurance as they reached the kitchen, at which point Joe immediately made his way toward the counter, starting to go through the cabinet where they kept the glasses and coffee cups. “Erik’s a dangerous personality, both because of his lack of positive morals, and because he resides within you, having your skills and your knowledge… Aha!”

Mike crossed his arms as he watched Joe pour himself a cup of cold coffee. Mike was more of a tea person, so maybe it was just him, but he didn't see how anyone could enjoy drinking cold coffee. “As much as I hate to feed your ego, you’re a force to be reckoned with,” Joe said, to which Mike smirked as his friend grimaced at the taste of the coffee. “So forgive me if I don’t let my guard down.”

“Well, even though I am really awesome, or even more so, like, super awesome, you're not too bad yourself. I am fairly certain you'd at least be able to get away from Erik,” Mike said with a grin. “In any case, I've been thinking about taking the Death-Cycle out for a solo adventure for a few days. I haven't really been able to take her out for a really long journey yet.”

“So I found some materials back in EC that I thought you’d take a liking to,” Joe spoke, making Mike's eyes widen.

“Please tell me it's hookers, or even that MP10 engine I've been looking for for the Mack. If it's not, I don't think I'd take as big a liking to them as you believe.”

[Generalfoley]

“Well, even though I am really awesome, or even more so, like, super awesome, you're not too bad yourself. I am fairly certain you'd at least be able to get away from Erik,”

'Good god, what have I done?' Joe thought to himself in a half-joking way. He knew Mike was fucking with him, but that dude's ego could be a dangerous thing.

“Please tell me it's hookers, or even that MP10 engine I've been looking for for the Mack. If it's not, I don't think I'd take as big a liking to them as you believe.” Joe chuckled, putting his mug and doughnut on the counter. "Funny thing," He said. He made his way outside. "I did, in fact, find a MP10 engine in EC's scrap yard," Joe hopped up and into the bed of the Wrecker, where a tanned tarp was covering something.

"It was in good condition, no rust, no fractures, but..." Joe took the tarp off to reveal the large engine, with what looked like dozens of parts around it. "Some assembly may be required..." Joe sat on the side of the bed, looking at Mike. "I made sure I had all the parts, but I think it's enough to put it together and use."

Joe nodded to himself before getting out of the bed of the Wrecker, and walked back to the trailer full of stuff. "Also found an anvil." He said, patting aforementioned anvil. "I couldn't help but think to set a trap up with it so I just had to get it."

[God Mike]

"Funny thing," Joe said, and left it at that. He put his coffee and donut down on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. Mike blinked and followed, as he wanted to hear what that funny thing was. He followed Joe outside, where Joe hopped up on the bed of the Wrecker, Mike noticing that the rollcage had been taken off to fit whatever was covered by the tarp.

"I did, in fact, find a MP10 engine in EC's scrap yard. It was in good condition, no rust, no fractures, but..." Mike's jaw dropped when Joe pulled the tarp off the engine. Mike had been wanting an MP10 for a while now, as his own Mack ran on an old MP7. "Some assembly may be required..." Mike didn't care about that. He liked tinkering with things, after all. "I made sure I had all the parts, but I think it's enough to put it together and use."

“Joe,” Mike said as he climbed up on the Wrecker's bed, looking over the MP10 engine, checking every inch of the surface, then opening the box that contained all the loose parts, looking them over, before turning to look at Joe. “I love you. I just fell in love with you. Let's get married,” he said with a perfect poker face.

Meanwhile, Joe walked over to the trailer, and walked up to an... anvil? "Also found an anvil." Mike blinked and raised an eyebrow when Joe patted the anvil. "I couldn't help but think to set a trap up with it so I just had to get it."

“Well,” Mike said slowly. Then, a grin appeared on his face, “Wile E. Coyote better watch himself, eh? Oooh, hold on!” he exclaimed as he reached into his pocket, taking out a thick, white Biggie-30 pen and walking up to the anvil, quickly writing 'ACME' on the side. “That oughta provide a giggle and a snort, I think.”

Mike grinned widely again when he looked to the engine, knowing he had a lot of work ahead of himself. Then, he remembered what he was going to show Joe when he came back. “Oh yeah, mate! I need to show you something!” he said and walked back toward the Bunker, gesturing for Joe to follow him.

He half-jogged into the Bunker and headed down the stairs, straight toward the Armory. He unlocked the door with the key Joe had given him, a copy of the key Joe had, and opened it, heading inside. The Armory was pretty nicely filled, with plenty of pistols, SMG's, and rifles. They even had an M79 grenade launcher and an RPG. But what Mike was going to show Joe took the cake by far.

“I went out exploring while you were gone on the Death-Cycle, and I ran into a Marauder who tried to pick me off at a distance,” Mike explained as he reached the back of the Armory, grabbing the rifle that was leaned against the wall, hidden behind a shelf holding ammo. He hefted the massive Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle and turned to Joe, grinning. “I relieved him of this. Is this a big fucking cannon or what?”

[Generalfoley]

“Joe,” Mike said as he climbed up on the Wrecker's bed, looking over the MP10 engine. “I love you. I just fell in love with you. Let's get married."

"Nah, I'm good. I'm pretty sure our relationship wouldn't work, despite how pretty you are," Joe looked over, wearing a completely straight face. "It's not you, it's me." Joe walked over to the Wrecker and opened it's passenger side door, pulling out a couple of ammo boxes from the floor. He had managed to get these at a great deal, along with several others in the trailer.

“Well,” Joe looked over to see Mike grinning widely. “Wile E. Coyote better watch himself, eh? Oooh, hold on!” Joe watched as Mike walked up to the anvil, quickly writing 'ACME' on the side. “That oughta provide a giggle and a snort, I think.” Joe snorted at that, before managing to shut the Wrecker's door.

“Oh yeah, mate! I need to show you something!” Joe looked over at Mike heading into the bunker, and he followed. Mike led him downstairs, to the Armory, something Joe was a bit thankful for. At least he was trying to be efficient.

Joe put the ammo boxes in a corner with the others as Mike walked over to a shelf holding all the ammo that was already sorted. The Armory, while nicely filled, was a work in progress. He still needed to get the walls set up, some drawers, and a couple of gun lockers for the better guns in here.

“I went out exploring while you were gone on the Death-Cycle, and I ran into a Marauder who tried to pick me off at a distance," Joe looked on as Mike brought out a sight he thought he wouldn't see outside... Well, anywhere: A Barret M82A1 anti-materiel rifle. “I relieved him of this. Is this a big fucking cannon or what?”

Joe blinked a couple of times before be spoke. "Alright. I will admit," Joe said, looking at the rifle before looking at Mike. "I did not expect you to find a Marauder out there that would have this on him." Though it showed signs of wear and tear. The dials on the scope were more or less caked in dirt, the barrel seemed a bit misaligned, the magazine seemed haphazardly hanging on to the frame and... well, to be honest, he hated the M82A1. It was thirty fuckin' pounds, and, if you didn't maintain it properly, it was inaccurate as hell. He liked the M107 better. Not as fuckin' heavy.

"I'm surprised you actually managed to know that he tried to hit you with that thing." Joe said aloud before he looked at Mike. "You mind if I take a look?" Joe pointed at the rifle. As much as he hated the thing, he knew Mike pretty much only took it because it looked cool, and he's make sure it'd work, both safely, and so that it didn't blow up in his face.