"Love ya too 'honey'." Tinker cooed back at the 'hate', setting the SMG within easy reach as she settled into the bike and patted for the mage to hop on "If bullets fly anywhere near us, you shoot lightning or whatever in the direction the bullets came from and you don't stop until the bullets stop flying at us, got it?  We're gonna be going fast through Ancients territory, so it would behoove you to cover my ass and the bike too while you're at it."<br/><br/>(You succeed a perception roll!)<br/><br/>Once they took off again on the bike breaking out of hell's gates, the CZ's markers were quite distinct and frequent: rubble everywhere, gang-tagged biohazard and radioactive warning signs posted everywhere, the most solid of structures would barely have a squatter's fancies in mind, but even so there were people... or what you could call 'people' as most seemed little more than a ghoul with how miserable they seemed.  Yet even so, there wasn't a person about without suspicious eyes, vigilant, hungry in more ways than one.  People openly walked around with assault weapons, and not a car drove the streets - in fact, cars seemed to line the streets as little more than stripped husks for parts, with the occasional working vehicle that really was little more than a set of guns on a moving platform with speed to it.  Lots of orks and trolls per capita too, naturally the sort that are pushed to the outer parts of society in many ways, even with the growing Orxploitation craze (OOC: media exploitation of ork culture, music, and appearances; one of the newest trends and a hit/miss scene with orks)...<br/><br/>But there were also elves, most on bikes... the infamous and international (pan-American) Ancients go-gang (biker gang).  A electrical crackling of a geiger counter emitted from the bike, and Tinker swore as she hit a sharp right around a clearly irradiated patch of the land, which put her right on the path of one of these Ancients members.  His reflexes weren't up to par - at least off his bike they weren't - and he caught him full on with the bike.  Somehow the bike remained upright - nearly threw Vesper off - but the man was sent flying and was impaled on a protruding bit of plasteel rebar.  He was alive, bleeding from the mouth but alive nonetheless... alive enough to pull out a gun, shout in sperethiel (OOC: the 'elven' language) and then open fire on them, which Tinker was able to avoid and swerve around whilst swearing up a storm... and the man's buddies weren't too happy either it seemed...<br/><br/>(OOC: Note that your comm doesn't work well here, nor does anything with a wireless signal and even your magic feels a little difficult to use around here, but nothing even CLOSE to impossible ^_^)