<span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px"><i>Broken.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, ain' that a fuckin' bitch."<br/>
</span></span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px"><b>Eight minutes earlier.</b></span></span></span>​</div><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px">Oasis was as good as the settlements got out this way, but that wasn't saying much in the grand scheme of things. Kade didn't like having to stop in for supplies under the best of circumstances, but like with all things worth her time, the options were limited and she needed to be where the vouchers were. Canteens empty, pack crammed full of baubles and trinkets, and her last cigarette dangling precariously from slightly chapped lips - it was here or a helluva trip through Duskrat valley in what would end up being a suicide mission through bandit and raider territory.<br/>
<br/>
Doozy of a sandstorm ended her trek into the ruins north, but after humping a Bah'gahti trail for half the day, she spilled into the busyness of town life. The citizens were indifferent to seeing another nomad dirtying their <i>dirt</i>- she sighed indignantly. "Shithole." No one commented because, as with many settlements, their affairs were prioritized over potential opportunities to gawk. The blonde reached for the end of her smoke, vapor pluming from exhales made through her nose, and relinquished the grasp her incisors held over the paper. First things first. Flicking away what remained, the blonde crossed the dusty road on her way to the local roadhouse, dodging caravaners and whores who looked nothing like the ones further south.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe twelve teeth between the lot, she reckoned, and three working legs. All these hodgepodge types hooking with their metal rigs gave her the chills, but anywhere within a days travel of the civilized outskirts was liable to suffer casualties. Some were lucky to get away with a bullet hole, but others started taking on whole new troubles. Nodding her head slowly in salutations to the women, she continued further past saloon-style doors to a moderately sized parlor. The bar branched to her left, lined by fatigued figures with slumped shoulders, gargling their worries into their drinks. To the right, a broker and his posse, tossing cards on a table predating the fallout. Must've been a neat find, Kade mused as the ghost of a smile passed over her lips. <br/>
<br/>
She liked seeing the history in common hauls, and sure as the sun did shine, there were buyers for all variety of knickknack so long as she was patient enough to seek them out. Better equipped travelers stuck to hunting heads and raising smaller farms, but Kade's time was better used on smaller projects. A car battery here, a cartridge of ink there. So on and so forth until the weathered knapsack she toted around was filled with every kind of treasure a clueless treasure hunter might consider worth a gamble. It sure as hell beat working in a bordello-like her sister did, even if she wasn't sitting pretty and pampered by the neighborhood hoodlums.<br/>
<br/>
Not wanting to think any more of the disparity in the quality of life between Kismet and herself, Kade walked up to the counter and tipped the wide brim of her stetson.<br/>
<br/>
"Evenin'." Already the fellows were scooping up their cards, but she was in no rush to hurry the lot. Better not to step on too many toes if she was looking to make anything decent off her finds. "Got a few salvages I'd like to sell. Which've you fine fellows should I be speakin' with?"<br/>
<br/>
"I got ye here, Miss." The oldest of the lot, donning a wry grin beneath a walrus-y mustache, waved her closer. "Looking for copper if you've got any, but we'll also take some steel and some tin."<br/>
<br/>
Removing the backpack she had slung over her shoulder, Kade furrowed her brow momentarily before replying, "I found some wire you might be interested in- copper variety. Not a whole lot else."<br/>
<br/>
"Wire'll get ye some chits." He rapped his knuckles against a lockbox to the side, adding, "And the odds an' ends might earn you a pass at the hostel. Let's see it."<br/>
<br/>
Untying the various rope bits and straps keeping her bag together, she removed the following items for inspection: A pack of tea candles, a coiled collection of copper wire, the remains of a cellphone (though she didn't fucking know what it was), a jar of stained glass scraps, four pieces of sterling silver tableware, and a folded sweater vest still in the remnants of plastic wrapping. A hard sell, this was, but Kade had made plenty of decent bargains peddling far worse finds. "How's three gallons, a pack of Lucky's, and a hostel stay sound?"<br/>
<br/>
Rather than immediate disappointment, she was met with clear indecision across the face of the broker. "<i>Three</i> gallons?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, Sir- three and it's all yours, counting the smokes and the room tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, Miss. Don' be causing no fuss and you've got yourself a deal."<br/>
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Beaming, Kade extended a hand while nodding vigorously at the merchant. "Got yerself a deal, Sir. I'll be no problem whatsoever-"<br/>
</span></span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px"><b>Two minutes earlier.</b></span></span></span>​</div><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px">Exiting the roadhouse, Kade cut back across the road with the hostel in mind. She'd stay the night, grab her water rations in the morning after mooching off their stores that evening, and would have enough going for her to be out of Oasis and onward to greener pastures within a handful of days. Success smelled like sawdust shavings and desert heat, but she was certainly in a better mood than she had been. At least, she <i>was</i> in a better mood until she was standing face to face with some unfamiliar faces. It wasn't until a set of hands had her by the waist that she realized her dilemma.<br/>
<br/>
"Not lookin' for trouble," she warned quietly, aware that a busy street wasn't any place to pull out her pistol, though she wasn't quite sure she'd be able to pop off a shot before one of the goons made a move against her.<br/>
<br/>
"No trouble to be found, Kid, but I'd suggest you make this easy on yourself. You got chits, we got a need for such things, and you ain't from around here. Surely you know the tax?"<br/>
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"I surely don't," Kade hissed, gritting her teeth. "But I'll ask that you get yer goddamn hands off me before you regret it."<br/>
<br/>
"Tax is half those chits," the male continued without much regard for what Kade said, "Or a run with me and my boys. Now, I'm sure you want those chits just as sure as we want that run. How about it?"<br/>
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"Well, since you put it so-" But the rest of her sentiment came only as a hard knee up into the groin of the would-be rapist, one of her hands brandishing the small knife she kept tucked into her jacket. Before the other two could make a move, Kade swept around the injured attacker and planted the knife's edge firmly to the scruff decorating his now exposed throat. Tipping his head further back for emphasis, the woman growled a warning into his ear without so much as a flinch, "Come near me again and I promise I'll see this through your nuts. Got it?"<br/>
<br/>
Shoving the robber into his friends, Kade turned tail and made a break for the hostel, her legs pumping so hard that she feared she'd rip a hole in the worn denim.<br/>
</span></span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px"><b>Now.</b></span></span></span>​</div><span style="font-family:Open Sans"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(238, 238, 238)"><span style="font-size: 12px">Mindful of just who looked at her when she came in, the panting femme moved to the desk while repocketing her knife. In the process, the chain of her crucifix slid from around her neck and dropped daintily against the wood flooring. Narrowing her gaze, she leaned down and picked up the piece of jewelry, examining the slender string of gold to see what the issue was. Sometime during the scuffle, it must've caught on something and snapped. Wearing a small frown, it'd be no good until she found a smith with a delicate touch.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Broken.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, ain' that a fuckin' bitch."</span></span></span>