FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Part 2

Foundation.

The light wirring of his leg joints was the melody to the tempo of the clunk, thunk, of each foot landing on the asphalt, they were almost skeletal in design the knee was of course protected by a carbon fiber pad, this guarding the primary joint, the legs swept back to a secondary joint and from there to the shin and feet, the feet were canine in design, wore a shield plate over each toe and ankle. the piping, the wires, it was all exposed, the servo in the upper shin. All his moving parts were there, glistening and worn alloy. the toes edge glowed green, where the servo in the upper shin was held, it wore a ring of green light. he did his best to keep them in functioning order, even going so far as to wrap cloth around them, but the fabric always got caught, so he only wrapped cloth around the areas where no moving parts or pistons were.

They never got tired, they never rusted or decayed, he could kick down a steel door with them, run for miles and never get tired. Several of his organs had been replaced with high end synthetic replacements, though he never would admit this. he was no machine, but he wasn't one hundred percent rodent anymore, he did not deny the benefit these replacements gave him, inability to get cancer, immunity to low to medium doses of radiation, he could jump off of an overpass and not sustain injury, of it all, he was just happy he could still get drunk.

He held the hood close as he wandered into a small cluster of people, then it grew into a more dense line of people. Swallowing hard he tried to keep a distance from them, but he knew that if he was appearing like an outcast or loner, he would likely be picked off by the guards, and so, he stuck close to them, remaining four or five feet from each one he was near. Most of the humans did not seem to mind his presence. The Brahman bellowed in irritation, fighting its lead and human. Caravanners, traders, people coming to this town from all over, to this jewel in the middle of a rocky, parched landscape.

He was so transfixed on the gate infront of them, a few hundred or so feet away, he was not paying attention, and collided with one of the humans, A small human. Blinking in mild confusion and surprise, he stared down at them, a little girl with brown hair. he looked up to see what looked to be her parents turning around, he knelt and offered her his hand, claws and all, her blue eyes stared into his face. he said nothing, simply offered her his hand, her face flushed and she let loose a shrill scream!. Sketch blinked and looking around nervously, rising he swiftly walked onwards, brushing past the girl. her parents, a man and a woman rushed over to help her up. She bawled and seeped tears. "Monster, it was a monster mommy!, that man in the scary mask pushed me!." she cried pointing at the rodent in his heavy cloak. 'Just keep walking, act normal, just keep walking. 'he mental told himself, over and over again. "hey asshole!." Came a voice, a mans voice. he ignored it and kept moving. He felt the eyes of the small group of people around him staring, he heard rushed foot falls and just kept moving, then suddenly something hit the back of his head, causing him to grunt and stagger forward and fall on his hands and knees, his cloth wrapped paws gaining small scrapes from the cracked and broken ground. the sound of a clump of asphalt clattering on the ground gave evidence to what it was that struck him. he grit his teeth, feeling the red itch of blood spilling from where the stone hit him. he gripped the ground, digging his claws into the dirt and rocks. Slowly he got up, getting to his feet, he wanted so badly to turn and attack, but taking a deep breath, he continued to walk. He needed medical attention, and maybe it would do him some good to be among people, well ones that weren't throwing rocks.

The man was right behind him, wide eyed and full of anger, he grabbed at Sketch, grasping the hood and yanking it back, "Are fucking stu-" the mans face flushed at what turned to meet his gaze, a soft head of black fur, long cup like ears, a few piercing dangling in them, rings and a nut. red and violet eyeshadow over his dark furred eye sockets, crimson red depths peered at the human, pink nose beaded with sweat and silvered whiskers. Everyone around were in shock, staring at the non human among them, "I wasn't paying attention, sorry." muttered the rodent in a not so sincere sounding tone. the man swallowed hard, unable to look away, even as the rat raised a brow and pulled his hood up over his face again, "Don't throw anymore rocks." warned the loner, turning he kept walking, this time the people flanking him kept their distance, and he made a notion to hasten his step and slip into the group ahead of him. At long last the gate was reached, Sketch stared as people were being questioned for their visit before being let in, he grumbled and considered running back to his car and cutting his tail off to avoid infection, maybe drink himself into a stupor, again.

The Foundation guardsman, a human wearing metal armor crafted from scrap bits from cars and license plates. held his hand up to a hermit looking fellow in a long cloak and hood,"Business for your visit?" the voice that returned was quiet, muttering. "Healing, I took a nasty scrape out there." the man looked down and blinked, feeling the blood leave his face, peering down at the hood, the individual looking down, avoiding eye contact with the guard, yet he could see the muzzle and whiskers!. Clearing his throat the man spoke again, "H-how long do you plan to stay?." he watched in further shock as the muzzle moved to produce words!. "A few hours." the man nodded slowly, "o-okay, don't cause no trouble here." Sketch nodded slowly, "I wont." moving on through, his mechanical feet thudding on the ground as he went, heading into the town proper, He heard the guardsman's voice behind him, and could not help but grin. "Did you fucking see that shit?, it wasn't human!." Another, gruffer guard spoke up, "No shit?, well leave it alone, they aren't banned from here, so don't antagonize him. last thing we need is a bunch of angry animal people coming down on us."

Foundation's pathway was comprised of streets and sidewalks, who ever started this town cleaned it up pretty good, many of the old buildings were repaired using wood and parts from rail cars. there was quite the bit of life in the town as well, people in the streets unarmed, laughing and just living life. Peddlers on the street corners or in the alleyways, cargo being moved, people buying items, selling items, talking, children ran around freely and un supervised.it made Sketch feel strange, not sympathetic or angry, but perhaps, a feeling of hope for this world he called home.

He followed the sidewalk for a bit, paying attention to the signs overhead, his feet's muffled clanking did draw a few curious eyes. eventually he found his way to the Doctors building, it was a traditional brick building, boasting three stories, he stepped slowly, cautiously up the stairs to the cracked broken glass double doors and shoved on them, blinking as it did not budge, he pulled, and open it did, inside he went. A set of bells jingled over the door as it was pushed ajar, letting the door click shut behind him, the air inside the doctors place was dusty and dry, he scanned along the walls and peered into what looked to be a sitting room. Wandering in he looked around, long tattered cape dragging on the ground behind him. Another odd sensation, the feeling of an enclosed space, no holes, no windows or engines to start up, it was quiet. a voice, old and scratchy sang out. "take a seat, I'll be right with ya." gazing in the direction of the voice, the rat spied in the next room a white bearded man wearing a flannel shirt and overalls, injecting a young woman with some clear fluid.

Preferring to not pry he looked around the sitting room, it was lived in, a desk with a lit cigarettes' in a tray, a whiskey bottle and glass, a terminal softly humming. portraits on the walls and books. Curious the rodent would run his clawed finger along the spine of one such book, he read aloud. "Frankenstein." Behind him that same gruff voice, "Ahh, don't get many readers in here." the Doctor dried his hands off on a waistcloth, the woman had left through the backway, "I don't do much reading." the doctor rubbed his beard, studying this new occupant of his, wearing a stitched and patchwork cloak and hood. "An interesting pic." spoke the man, he noted the clawed, furless hand wrapped in leather and some string gently sliding the book back in place.

"its Ironic is all." spoke Sketch, before he turned about and let the man speak, "Your a physician?." the man nodded,"mmmh, not heard that word in some time, but yes." the Cloaked figure spoke again without turning. "Are you willing to aid someone in need of your craft, no matter what they look like?" Raising a brow the human grumbled a bit, caution weighing heavy on him, "mhm, I suppose I wouldn't be much of a Doctor if I only helped folk based on what they looked like." taking a deep breath the hood came down and Sketch turned about, "I have need of your skills sir." The man blinked a few times, no screams, no sudden draw of guns or outburst. just the old man rubbing his chin stubble looking over a patient. "Leave your weapons on my table, and come sit in the chair so i can see what's wrong." the man turned to leave the room, getting the medical chair ready. unclipping his cloak and setting it on the table the rodent hesitantly set all his weapons with the cloak, in an orderly fashion, knives then pistoles, then his rifle and sword. turning he would step into the other room, approaching the chair. The doctor whistled, seeing those legs. "Hmm, I see now what you meant about old Shellys' work, you better not have fleas." Sketch chuckled softly at that and settled in the chair, reaching back to touch where the stone hit his head, it was still wet."mmh, that looks pretty nasty." Sketch froze as latex gloved fingers touched him, a human touched him!, spreading the fur and hair apart where the stone struck him. He even let loose a shudder, The doctor hummed. "Just a small cut, nothing terrible you might have a small concussion." Swallowing, the rodent lifted his tail up showing the damp bandaging around the limb.

Walking around infront of him the Doc would take the tail in his hands and using a pair of small scissors he cut the tarry cloth away. "I aint gonna ask how this happened, or bout them scars on your face, still tryin'ta not have myself a stroke, holding your tail here, but from look of it, you had some drunkard stitch this up." Sketch rolled his eyes and scoffed,"I-I am not exactly a doctor, I did what I could." shaking his head the doc cut the stitches."Mmh, well its red all around and swelling a bit, think you may of made it worse kid." he set the tail down and turned to rummage in a cabinet, dumping some bourbon on a cloth, and after a moment of contemplation, offered it to his patient. "you might need a few swigs, this is gonna hurt." accepting the bottle Sketch took a few long swills from it, feeling those cold scissors cutting away the stitches, then a searing, burning like fire agony rushed up his tail, the doctor applied the cloth to his butt worm, sanitizing it. And then the needle and stitching came, the rat took another long pull off the whiskey bottle, wincing but not crying out in pain.

Before he knew it, the procedure was over with, Sketch inspected his tail, it was finely stitched together on both sides and wrapped in real medical gauze. He ran his fingers over the wrapping it was firm but soft, there was little no pain in his tail now. lifting his gaze to peer at the man who took the whiskey bottle and pulled on it. "What do I owe you?." the doctor shook his head, "Nothing, never seen one of you before, heard the stories, never imagined I'd see one in my life time, what brings you out this ways?." Sketch huffed and leaned back in the chair, relaxing, accepting the bottle as it was offered back to him. "Just passing through." the doctor chuckled at that and shrugged, "Eh well, isn't my place to judge but most folk round here I bet ain't seen one of your people either, try not to get shot up again." he took the bottle back and closed it up. "And don't send anyone back here with cuts or bites." the rodent chuckled at that and rose off the chair, stretching his arms over his head and groaned. "I may just poke around, haven't seen other people in a long time." he blinked and scratched under his chin, "w-well, none that weren't shooting at me at least." he rubbed the back of his head and grimaced, The Doctor smiled and observed the young patient, "Mmh, that bump will heal up just fine, there's a saloon down the road, old Sandie's, go get you some grub and take that book with you, folk who can read are rare, besides, I don't really read that one anyhow." the doctor smiled and started to clean up, allowing the rat to gather his belongings, stowing his weapons back where they were, and donning the cloak. But this time he left the hood down, taking the book 'Frankenstein' he waved to the Doc and out he went.

Sketch wandered the street, hood down, he ran his hand over his face, tracing his scars, fairly bad wounds at the time, he thought he would die from them. He had a particular scar across the right side of his face going from under his jaw to below his eye, it was stitched up and had been since he received the wound months ago during a knife fight with some low lives. He was rendered unconscious and awoke early the next morning on someone's matt, a note beside him, a human had seen to his wounds, a human being held captive by the raiders he rooted out.

His whole face was a dark, greyish black, grimy and dirty, his left eye had a blemish, the entire socket and area was discolored from a hammering he took, someone with a giant metal fist hit his head there repeatedly until he managed to put an entire clip in their belly. the left eye was not as bad, a small blemish of grimy brown from the same beating. He wasn't solid black, he did have a grey underside. Taking a deep breath, he felt eyes on him, several people were staring, others simply looked away and rushed onwards, others lingered their gaze until he was gone from sight.

He stood before the door of the saloon, it was more of a bar/gentlemen's club or at one point it was. His hand lingered on the handle, for a moment he pondered going in at all, static buzzed off of the neon sign overhead, on the front of the building. 'Dustie's Saloon.' it read. Swallowing hard he grunted and yanked the door ajar, slipping inside with a flutter of cloth and rattle of his gear. Inside the floor was wood and lead into a pool room, a large billiards table sat in the center, a Jukebox in the corner blasted old music. He took note of a coat rack and with a smirk, he rolled the cloak off his shoulders and hung it on the rack. His feet thunked on the wooden floor, causing some minor groans from the ancient grain, he past the pool table, reaching out to nudge one of the billiard balls, it collided with another making that iconic resonance of concrete against concrete. passing through a doorway and turning down a hall, he walked into the bar area, at long last. pausing for a moment, seeing at least ten people scattered in the large square room, he looked them all over, his red eyes brilliant and focused.

Some took a moment to look up at him only to look away, others gaped in disbelief, rolling his shoulders he would mount a bar stool, gently setting his book on the wooden counter. looking up at the wall covered in old art, posters and portraits, the shelves held many items, all manner of drink, a dry board had written on it 'food of the day', his stomach rumbled with need. His vision was soon obscured by a grey haired woman wearing a denim jacket over a blouse. Her eyes were wide and she seemed unsure of weather or not to speak to the new guest, a silence would of fallen over the saloon if not for the Inkspots."W-what'll it...b-be?" Sketch would humm softly, looking past the woman to the dry board. "The Brahmen steak and omelet please." the woman blinked. Then gave a soft scoff, "umm, t-that is a fifty cap meal." Sketch nodded slowly, "Yea." he would unsling his pack and dug out the jug of caps. he unscrewed the lid and started to count them out. "They were fun to collect over the years, took me a while to realize they were currency." the woman baulked at the jug, it had to of had at least five hundred caps inside it, maybe a thousand, unfortunately, he earned the eye of other patrons, and they murmured to their fellows. "O-kay sir, umm I will get the cook workin on it right away, h-how do you like your steak?." the rodent pondered for a moment, "Umm, medium rare I guess?. Haven't had anything fancy like this in a long time." 'or ever' he thought, he smiled gently and would keep counting the caps, the woman ran off to fill his order with the cook.

"Forty eight, forty nine, Fifty!." he smiled pridefully at the small pile of tin on the wooden counter. taking a breath he sat there, swishing his long furless tail back and forth. red eyes lifting to glance at the other people in the saloon. seemed most of them went back to their business, though he did catch a few glancing up at him now and then. Humming and in moderately good spirits, excited to get some food in his body, properly cooked food anyway, though he couldn't resist the sense of unease he felt.

Sketch sat there in a bit of silence, hand resting on the counter, everything here was still, calm, he felt nor heard the wind. there was no one shooting at him, the heat of the sun was not baking him alive. He didn't look up when the woman came back to take the caps, the glow of the lights in the structure cast his shadow on the floor. For once, in a very long time, he was able to sit, and relax, or try to anyway. Before he knew it almost an hour had passed and the steak was done and sitting in front of him. his ears were still, flashes of when he went delving into the underground car parks, the sewers played in his mind. He thought on them, let the memories flood to his minds forefront for a moment, it wasn't the darkness that was so horrible, it was the noise they made, the ghouls. their moans and yells, so many people hid in the subway tunnels, only for the thing to partially collapse and everyone in the depths died slowly, from starvation and radiation, or turned into ghouls and went mad, it was like a horror movie, with no escape, no credits, just pure terror.

"Sir?, Sir!?." Sketch blinked and shook his head,"mmh, what?, s-sorry I was...lost in thought." She frowned a bit, her eyes going over his scars. "Anything else I can get you?." he took a breath and looked at all the food infront of him, he slowly shook his head, "no, thank you." she hummed, "alright then, don't go biting anyone in here, most folk leave their guns at the door." Sketch blinked and looked at a table not far from him, folk were staring, he remembered the weight of his rifle on his shoulder, "o-oh, sorry bout that." he unslung it and was about to get up and go take it and the rest of his 'toys' to the door. The woman shook her head, "Don worry bout it now, just don't go shootin the place up, or biting other customers, we ain't had none of your like here before, but we know what ye are." Sketch would gently lean his gun on the counter and sat back down, picking up the knife offered, looking at it for a moment, as if he were trying to remember how to use it. "I...I'm just a traveler, passing through, I came here to get stitched up by someone who knew how." the woman, easily in her fourties would nod slowly,"Alrigth then, eat up, foods gettin cold." she turned to groan at a man holding a glass and barking about more whiskey."Allrigth I heard ya Harvey, Keep your shirt on." The old man looked confused,"I aint taken it off?." the woman groaned again,"Aw shut up."

The meat was delicious, it exploded with flavor, juice ran down the rats chin as he devoured the well cooked meat, chewing it to a manageable mush and swallowing it down his tight throat, using knife and fork he cut little slivers off it and dined, he enjoyed the meat, and the omelet, the omelet was mostly bits of meat and some vegies inside, their flavor reminiscent of tomatoes and onions. He was unaware of the woman watching him, gape that small mouth of his before shoving a forkfull of food inside. eventually the meal was gone, and the rodent sat there, rubbing his muzzle of the grease, swallowing a few times, relishing the warmth and weight of the meal in his gut. He sighed and smiled, he felt sated and happy even, he ran a hand over his stomach and let off a soft belch, content, at least he was until a gruff voice shattered his tranquility.

"Didn't know they were letting dogs sit at the table here." His red eyes lifted to look upon a sun scorched man with short scraggly hair, his was no better of course, but the human was dressed in ragged, tattered clothing, Sketch assumed he was drunk at first, but he was perfectly sober, and the rat could not smell any liquor. "Get out of here, we don't want your kind here." Sketch barred his teeth a bit but tried to remain calm, "I'm a paying customer, and I'm not a dog." he rose off the stool and reached for his rifle only to feel his hackles raise. the man grabbed his wrist!. "I said get out of here mutt." Sketch took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his nose, the woman come around the corner and began barking at the man telling him to let it alone.

"This is not a fight you want, Human." warned the rodent, the man blinked and grinned letting the Sketch pull away, "Every human I've come across are just like you, stupid, arrogant, they attack me before they try to speak." he reached for his rifle again but the human grabbed it and yanked it away, the rat let loose a slow sigh. "I've tried to be civil, tried to be calm, I've met a few humans here in this town that are tolerable, I had hoped more would be as thus." the man chuckled and would inspect the old wooden gun. "You don't deserve this gun boy, this was made by human hands, probably saw some wars WE fought, not you."

"n-now Hamish, give the boy his gun back, he ain't hurtin no one." tried the woman, but the man was persistent, he grinned and slowly lowered the gun to aim it at the rodents head, even being so bold as to push the metal muzzle against the rodents face, those deep red eyes never left the man, staring daggers at him. "All these scars, bet their from humans huh?, you talk down to me like I am below you, you hate us little dog?." The man grimaced and spoke through clenched teeth,"One'o your filth killed my brother, we weren't doing nothing, up north we came under fire, some coyote monster attacked us!, killed my brother as i ran away, y'all prolly trying to get to that walled town of yours huh?." he grumbled low,"Gon go get your kin to bring back, and take over our town huh?." the woman yelled at him and then called for the cook, a large dark skinned man came out of the kitchen wielding a clever, but it was to late. "You ain't leavin this bar mutt!." The mans finger slipped off the guard and touched the trigger.

The Motion was a blur of black, a flutter of cloth and belts, Sketch's head ducked and slammed the barrel up with his hand, the gun went off, a bullet hitting the ceiling taking out a light fixture, then quick as he could Sketch slammed his fist into the jaw of the man, reeled his leg back and slammed his mechanical foot on the humans shin, the sickening wet sound of bone being snapped like a twig resounded, the human let out a pained scream falling to his knees, Sketch now holding the rifle turned it around and swung it like a baseball bat, hitting the man across the side of his head with the stock, knocking him to the floor.

With a heavy sigh, Sketch tugged the slide back, spent brass casing hit the floor, he tugged out the last round and stowed it in his pocket, staring down at the screaming writhing man. "I warned you, you didn't want this fight." he grabbed his book and turned to leave, the human lay there screaming and holding his leg, bleeding from a laceration on his face, it would scar up nicely, but he would live. Snatching up his cloak he would leave the bar, hastily stepping outside only to stop. his anxiety was up, his hands were shaking, he tucked the book away in his back pack and slung it over a shoulder. "fucking asshole." he muttered. But, despite what his conscious was telling him, to run back to his car and drive far far away from here. He went with his personal desire, a desire to remain in a civilized area. to explore, for now.

Simply choosing a direction the rodent put one foot infront of the other and marched, tail swishing back and forth irritably behind him. He walked from one end of Foundation to the other, simply content to explore the township. He turned a street corner and found his way down a gentle dip in the cracked, broken asphalt, finding his way down it he came into more of the town, a kind of slum like area with people in the streets, a small shop was built out of a bus stop, and a bus was in the back used as some kind of hotel. vendors in the streets, selling items strewn out across their mats and blankets. It was ragged, and run down, but here was life, he gained looks still, but not all were of scorn or disgust, some were of surprise and wonder.

He scratched at his shoulder, wandering along the broken path, eyes lifting to look across a set of large neon letters, glowing like a spotlight. He started for the doors, guards were outside, dressed in worn out two piece suits and trilby hats. A club, perfect, he could use some comfort, lords know he has the money for it. "Hey Mister!, wait up!." Sketch kept moving, ignoring the voice, there would be no reason in the world anyone would call for him right?, he did not know anyone here, or in truth anywhere, maybe it was someone coming to arrest him for breaking that old mans leg. "Hey!, You with the tail!." the rat stopped in his tracks, turning around to see a human, wearing worn out farmhand clothing, a simple jacket over a shirt and some rugged pants. the Human would slow to a pause, panting hard and bending over to catch his breath, "p-please." Gasp. "W-wait." Wheeze. "a Moment." Sketch turned fully to face the human, inspecting him, ear length brown hair, fair if sun darkened skin, easily in his upper twenties or lower thirties.

"Please, mister you have to help me." Pleaded the human, Sketch raised a brow, and flatly, coldly. "no, I don't." he then turned around to start walking again, the human momentarily stunned, but determined as ever followed behind him. "Please!, i saw what you did to old Hamish in the diner, you can help me, see my sister is-" The rodent grumbled, "don't care, human." but the man persisted, even rushing infront of Sketch to block his path, "Sir please, I have money, I just need to go find my sister!, she's disappeared, I think she went up into the mountains, to that old mansion she is a healer, but she knows nothing about technology!, were from a tribal settlement from the west, please I cannot do it on my own, i can't shoot or really fight, I wouldn't last out there." Sketch stood still, his path to the obvious lounge and pay for company establishment blocked. he sighed, red eyes staring at the begging, pleading human. "And what makes you think I would help?, Hmm?, why?, why should I help you?." he stepped aside and went around the human, just a few meters now, the guards seemed amused by the display, one was a ghoul with skin that resembled burnt beef jerky, the other was a dark skinned man.

The damned pleading human ran infront of the rat again, this time the man fell to his knees, "please it is the right thing to do!, no one else here will help me!, i fear my sister is dead, it is a long way there, she may be hurt or in danger!." Sketch stared down at the man, groveling at his feet, sighing the rodent ran his paw down his forehead and snout. "God dammit, human. fine!." he stared up at the club for a moment, "Prolly wouldn't of let me in anyhow." he huffed and turned to walk off, "Come on then!, lets go find your wayward sister." The man's eyes welled with tears as he got to his feet, stumbling after the rodent. "thank you, thank you!, how can I ever repay you?." Sketch kept moving, grumbling incoherently. "Just shut up and follow me." The man did as instructed and followed, stumbling now and then, happy as can be that he finally found someone to help him.

Sketch was not pleased, but at the same time he was, he wouldn't be alone for a few days at least. Maybe Humans weren't so bad afterall, only one assailed him in the town, others seemed to wish no ill will to him. The rodent morph found his way before a general goods store, brushing inside, the human wandering behind him, quiet as dust. the door creaked and slammed shut behind the rodent, crafted of light wood and tin mesh. A sleezy looking man with a comb over waved at the rodent as he wandered in, the wave slowed a bit to hesitation and uncertainty when the shop owner saw the customer's species. biting his lower lip the rodent began to move around the store, the Human following him watched on with interest at what was being plucked. "So, what's your name?." Asked the rodent, grabbing a few cans of corn, then pork'n beans. The Human blinked and gasped being handed the groceries, "Clark, my name is Clark. I-I don't normally act like that sir, I am just so desperate to find my sister." Sketch blinked looking down to the jar of pickles he had found, then up to the human, a wry smirk on his lips, brow raised, "Clark?, that's your name?" the man nervously nodded. Sketch shook his head and spied something interesting, gasoline cans, he tapped them a few times. "Y-yea, why?" Sketch shook his head again, "I'm not calling you that." he popped the lid off of the jerry can and sniffed the gas inside, curling his nose at the reek of fuel, he closed it up and grabbed another can, they were quite heavy.

he Carried them to the counter and hefted them up on the wooden top, red eyes looking past the human to the wall behind him, "Can I get a few of those beef sticks, a box of 7.62 ammo annnnd." the rodent pondered, looking at the human in rags setting the cans on the counter, "Some light leather armor, maybe a sharp stick or machete?." The Comb over human slowly nodded, and began to fiddle with the items, looking at the masking tape labels with their price, he turned and would set the box of meat, the bullets and then a set of light armor on the table, greaves, bracers, a belt and even a chest piece that would cover ones upper chest, its pauldrons were decorated with bolts and nuts, a short rusty machete was set upon the goods. the Caucasian would humm a bit tapping on the old registers buttons, tallying it all up. "T-that will be a hundred and thirty caps." Sketch raised his brow and shrugged, the shop owner watched with increasing interest when the jug came out and Sketch started counting. Suddenly he forgot all about the upright rodent in his shop, and was eagerly staring at the cache of caps. "W-we have candy as well, good sir." he smiled in that hopeful, greedy way. Sketch blinked looking up and raising a brow, "Candy?, really now?" he smirked, the clerk smirked, and more caps were counted.

Clark huffed and puffed, wearing a full set of leather armor over his farmhand clothing, carrying everything the Rat had purchased, save for the gas cans, for some reason the rodent was protective of them, carrying them over his shoulder on a wooden broom stick, Clark did not know what they were meant for. the contents sloshed and churned with a tinny resonance. The Rat was not focused ahead, he was looking around, Clark observed each ear twitch and turn, the shift of his eyes and head, watching him sniff the air now and then. each flick and twist of that long tail with the cloth wrapped around a small portion of it. "W-what happened to your tail?" asked the human, but no response, the rodent kept marching, the whirr and hiss of his mechanical feet propelling him onward. it was eerily quiet, and they were far from the town now, an old gas station sat half crumbling ahead of them. The Beast stopped and sniffed the air a few times, nose up, he even closed his eyes and inhaled deeply a few times.

"What happened to your legs?, a-and where are we going?, the direction to the mountains is north." the man finally got a reply, a harsh. "Shhh, i smell something." the man blinked a few times and sniffed the air, closing his eyes and sniffing deep, when he opened them he found Sketch staring at him awkwardly, "What are you doing?" he asked. Clark grinned a bit sheepishly, "T-trying to see what your smelling?." The rat blinked a few times then smirked, "Cute." he would look beyond the man back to the town, spying six figures walking towards them, feeling the wind blow past him the rodent sniffed at it, smelling a foul body Oder mixed with gun oil, mildew and other offensive scents, but as a prey species he could taste something no one else could, Danger. "Come, hasten your step human, your kin are coming to settle a score with me, or perhaps to steal my caps, was stupid to display them like that." he turned and quickly jogged across the broken and cracked ground, leaving poor Clark to try and keep pace. When they rounded the end of the gas station his jaw hit the asphalt, his eyes wide as can be, watching as the rodent set the cans down and swiftly he fished out a set of jingling metal bits, shoved one into a slot and turned it, the rodent pulled and the driver side door creaked open. Yanking it ajar, with haste in his motions the rodent gathered up the fuel and tossed the stick aside, stowing the fuel away he stood upright and looked at Clark, brows raised, an expectant expression across his fur.

"Well?, get in human?, what did you think we were walking to the mountains?" he smirked and climbed in, tugging the blinders down from each door and windshield, he shoved the passenger side open and groaned as the human was carefully setting the things down, he yanked on them and tugged the items in. "get your ass in here!." the man quickly crawled inside and shut the door, looking around and whimpering softly, he eyed the rodent, buckling in and reaching under the steering wheel to tug and press on things. Clark yelled in genuine fear when the entire frame jolted and an absolutely angry roar bellowed."U-umm,there dose not appear to be a seat here, o-or any belts like yours." Complained the man, Sketch grinned a bit, "Well, i suggest you hold on to something." and with that he slammed the shotgun shifter back and reversed hard, tugging the wheel aside, he shifted side then forward. Showing the car's flank to the posse coming up on him, he kicked the door open, sitting in an improvised roll cage, he tugged a folded stock Ak-47 off the door frame and fired at the men, mostly to scare them but he wouldn't loose any sleep if he nailed one or two. the men ducked or dove behind cover as the rat let off a rapid volley of bullets. still smoking, he tossed the gun into the lap of Clark who had fallen back in a sprawl, sitting up he grasped a pipe and clung to it, the door slammed and the rodent drove off, sticking his arm out and showing the men chasing them his middle finger, weather the gesture was lost on them or not, it made the rat happy to do it.