Badass Dragons of the Wasteland - Round Six

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Damn! It’s Mad Mel! What the hell is he doing in the Valley? Cougar, we gotta give De’Ath a hand. Mad Mel will blow his doors off… literally!

We can’t! Did you just hear what the Major and Bill found down in the riverbed? De’Ath can take care of himself.

-Shit. Shitshitshit. We need De’Ath. He’s a hell of a driver, but there’s no way he can outrun Mel. That crazy Aussie knows no fear, he’s out of his freakin’ mind!

-But they’re just kids. We can’t let them get… eaten!

-Split up the troops. Send the Hollywood guys down to the riverbed. Junior’s the only other one close enough to help De’Ath. Maybe he found the Ecto, maybe he got it running. Back in the day, it was the fastest Cadillac on the coast. Let’s see what he can get out of it. I’ll head over to Burbank, too. You go help Bill and the Major.

-What about the Ark?

-The kid and Marion will keep an eye out. Let’s move!

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Calm down, Blazer.

Melanie’s all mouth and no trousers. Plus, he’s drunk as a skunk on cheap tequila, as per usual.

The chump just set off in reverse by mistake.

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He’s out of his freakin’ tree, no question, but he’s stayed alive in this hellscape as long as we have. And that Falcon was built as a hero picture car. The guns and supercharger are real, don’t question 'em. But unless he’s had some work done in the last ten years, the armor’s plastic to save weight.

Get behind him if you can. And don’t let your highborn aristocratic arrogance get your ass shot off. I’m coming to help. You don’t need to thank me or anything, just don’t underestimate an unemployed actor with alcohol and daddy issues behind the wheel of an overpowered Ford with loaded guns.

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Well, since he’s so obsessed with how fast his POS is, he’s obviously going to be in front of me.

Why he imagines I’d then follow him, I have no idea. I don’t dance to his tune.

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He’s not racing you now, he’s attacking you!

Wash @JonasEggeater, got an estimate for De’Ath’s chances here? How much time do we have?

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We should just all calm down a bit and have a nice cuppa.

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That duck looks carnivorous.

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It’s a good thing I brought my pet rabbit then.

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Vorpal Rabbit!

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So he’s faster and more manoeuvreable, eh?

Plus, lets face it, Mad Mel is no Michael Ironside.

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Now that’s the spirit!

I kinda wish you could buzz the tower in the General Lee.

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Wouldn’t wipe my arse with that flag, let alone drive a car with it on the roof.

Had a run-in with a Charger once, too.

I wasn’t impressed.

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They do okay, until they have to turn.

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This is Junior Burton on the Pepperoni Eggspress and I’m talking to anyone who’s listning.

Dear Achilles, have:

Ahem, I should say, don’t fear, De’Ath…

You can’t take this Yahoo to be Serious.

I mean, we’ve seen this before, and these folks from down under are prone to some crazy shit, but rarely have things end well for them.

So sorry, Mellie Mel. But we’ve already seen you coming, long ago. And we’ve already questioned your allegiance, so the fact that you are now going to threaten violence after you just promised…

Yeah…no.



**Mad Max - Wheel of Fortune**
In nature times
Mechanics make the rules
They create the secrets
of the cosmic repair rooms. 

Among the cards
there is a picture to reveal
it shows the Craftsman
and the Power of the Wheel, 

The Wheel of Fortune, is a Principle of Life
The Never Ending Act, of De'Ath and new Rebirth. 

And so the People, get used to what they feel
We need the power, the Power of The Wheel.
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Over the scream of engines and the wail of worn tires on broken asphalt, a cracked, worn-out voice can be heard singing at the top of its lungs:

-“All the vampires walkin’ through the Valley…”

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-“Move west down Ventura Boulevard…”

-“And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows…”

-“And the good girls are home with broken hearts…”

-“And I’m freeeee…”

Fingers tighten on triggers. Gunbarrels erupt in flame from hidden caches along the leading edge of the Falcon’s grille.

Rounds stitch the air and fly on their merry way to their rendezvous with the Iso Grifo’s plum paintwork. Glass shatters, the boot perforates, fuel leaks, the spare tyre explodes with joy at having never once suffered the indignity of being called a “tire.”

-“Free faaallllllin’…”

-“Bugger this.”

The Iso Grifo launches a missile.

KA-BOOOOMMM!!!

De’Ath’s down to 5HP, but he’s up 2 LP, 10 gallons of gazzoline, six fingerbones, eight ounces of clean rotted flesh (clean, that is, of radioactive contaminants and zombie antibodies, but still clotted with healthy Forest Lawn soil) and the whereabouts of a couple of pretty nifty cars. Maybe someone might value such information enough to want to pay for it. Who knows?

Not the worst Wednesday in De’Ath’s history, on the whole.

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Give you five? I can do better than that! I can give you fifteen!

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“Haha … aaaah Bill …that’s a bloody horrid sight, that is!”

~ grins grimly to self ~

~ settles into seat, facial expressions relaxing ~

"What’s your nickname, Bill? Apart, of course, from ‘Bill’. I’ve picked up many over the years, but the one that stuck, the one that popped up again and again, all over the world, is

’You Little Basterd’

Mother, father, brother, priest, school, soldiers - all clips over the ears and ‘You Little Basterd’’. Didn’t understand for years - very funny story though, in the end. If a bit brutal. No time now, eh?

But then it came back in the desert, in action, when I made a 2km takedown with the .50. "You leetle bast-ard’ said Pierre. So that stuck. And so on.

~ visibly relaxes ~

Lots of people who meet SAS, they call them stonehearted, or soulless. In a way, they’re right. But for me it’s more about … being in a kind of trance. When you’re in the middle of some drug-crazed machine gun fight, there’s no point bloody fretting about holes in your shirt. Can’t afford it. You simply can’t operate - and that’s what you have to do, as an entity, as a being - you’re just a piece in a mechanism, but a piece with a brain, and you can determine the outcome.

So you learn this trick.

~ talking quietly ~

You learn to settle, to sink beneath the moment, to relax and allow your senses to pick everything up, to process and filter information like a genius.

You forget yesterday’s burnt bloody dinner, the barmaid’s spurn. You anonymise yourself, your name is just a handle to communicate with your brain.

And you arrive at a tantric state, full of openness and light. In contact with all things, restful and dreamlike. I had a starter for 10, as I’d figured much of this out when I was a kid - needed to (‘You Little Basterd’ - hah! Those Rotten Basterds!)

So it’s not that they’re soulless - they just haven’t re-surfaced from where they went.

As for this pair of camel’s mindyourlanguages - we should cook something truly lovely up for them! Something very painful, and very amusing for us, and very bright, and very fireworky! Haha, yes - no quick dispatch today, Ugly Mutant Things!

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Or so he says. You’re going to get there and find these two beauties instead:

Now.
Just speaking for myself I would be tempted. But I’m holding out for one of these Japanese specials:
…
I heard they can fly.

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