Wasteland

Riots

Normally, when a fight breaks out, I get the holy hell out of there. But this got  funny. Fawkes. Of all people, Fawkes thought it was a brilliant plan to fight Carval, the guy that makes Mako look like a Mino. 

I sit on Blackjack, watching Fawkes as he's thrown left and right like a rag doll. I grab my gun, aim it at Carval's head as he goes to snap Fawkes neck, pulling back the trigger and getting off Blackjack, who walks behind me.  

I nudge Fawkes with my foot as Blackjack licks him, putting out his hair. He swats the horse away, "Oi! Go put out your own fire, ya dipstick!" He growls, I help him up. "Why'd you help anyway, thought I'd get ya killed." he asks, tilting his head. 

"I had a hit on him anyway, also so I could put you into more debt." I smirk, he shoves me playfuly, "Well ain't you nice." he says, jokingly. I reload my gun, putting it in my pocket. "Mind not calling me a repair nerd?" I glare, smirking. "Then don't call me by my last name. I have a name y'know." he crosses his arms. 

"Yeah, trashrat." I smirk and walk over to his "hide out". "IT'S JUNKRAT!" He yells as his cheeks turn red, "yeah, Yeah. You comin or what, Jamie boy?" I say, opening the door and walking inside. 

Blackjack trots inside, swishing his tail. "We are not keeping him in here, are we?" Junk asks, "I mean, you could help me build a pen out there. I got three horses." I smirk.  "And thats useful how?" he croses his arms and lifts an eyebrow, "two words. Horse Meat." I smile. 

"What about him?" He points at Blackjack, I pat the horses neck. "He's quick transportation. Duh." I say as Blackjack snorts in Junks face. "So how bout it? the pen, I mean.." I asks, smiling. "Fine." He shrugs.

I don't think Blackjack likes Rat boy for some reason, he's kicked him, head butted him. Everything he can do just hurt him. Hate to seem try and ride him..

No. No I would not hate to see it. I want to see it.

Yeah. Thats my plan now.