Ashely was leaning against the side of gas station, just by the rear, away from the road, so he could watch the bike. The whole situation seemed strange and interesting. Someone with an RV had shown up, that was new, and now the store across the street was showing signs of life.<br/><br/>Of course, it was easy to tell who the real survivors were. RV girl was too, enthusiastic, to readily communicative for the new world. In post-apocalyptia the helpful perished while the dangerous thrived. Simple. He happened to be dangerous, though mostly to Zombies, not that he hadn't had his share of run-ins with survivors who weren't very happy to meet him, or too happy to meet him, the latter being the more violent surivor groups and the former being the more sheltered.<br/><br/>He wasn't really prepared to change his policy, but it seemed like letting the whole assembly move further into the city, especially the man with the bike, who he had a feeling was probably one of the more dangerous vistors the outskirts of New York was having, would be a bad idea. Though, he'd found that a lot of problems had a firey and simple solution, no need to kill them, just scare them off. After all, blowing things up was usually a raider trademark.<br/><br/>He walked back into the darkened station, using the propped-open back door, not really disguising the noise he was making anymore. He grabbed one of the flares behind the counter, and a large can of lighter fluid. He knocked the cap off and sprayed it around. It was a shame to lose the station, but then, the end of the world was a harsh mistress, and besides, it wasn't as though he was going to stay in the city long enough that he'd need to come back. He walked out the front door, the lighter-fluid can in right hand making a trail of highly-flammable liquid behind him.<br/><br/>He stepped into his car, and started the engine. The loud start-up was bound to attract attention, but he didn't mind.<br/><br/>He popped the flare and tossed it in the direction of the station. That done, he closed the car door and pulled out onto the road, the pump that he'd left in popping out of the gas tank and hitting the pavement even as the fire consumed the station. Of course, with the pump still going, a rather rapid flow of gasoline was pouring out onto the pavement. It would only be a few moments before it met with the burning lighter-fluid line leading from the station.<br/><br/>"Sorry to disturb the love-in," he said, under his breath, as he turned back on the AC DC. He found co-operation in the wasteland that was earth...touching, but still, the last thing he needed was a bunch of immune, armed, survivors roaming around New York with him.