On the outskirts of the City of Dreams, about 40 miles out, a single car drove through the sand filled trail that was the remnants of an old interstate, leaving behind a trail of dust as it drove on. The vehicle itself was a muscle car from 11 decades ago meshed with scrap metal and parts from various pickup trucks of both old and new. An ancient but functional ride that had been adjusted for the new age as it roared throughout the seemingly void desert landscape with a modified V8 engine. It's destination: A gas station out in the distance beside the sandy road. A giant, rust covered sign shaped like a blue whale stood atop a small structure that housed four fuel pumps read out as follows:
PUMP & DUMP GAS: Have a "whale" of a time!
Slowing down the car, the person driving pulled into the old station, right beside the closest pump to the main building. The ol' wrecker's roar silenced once it came to a conplete stop.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
From inside the gas station building, the lone cashier and owner of the place looked upward from his cell phone as he heard the car's engine stop in front of the place. Watching the driver get out of the vehicle, he muttered to himself as he watched hin pump gas into his car.
Cashier: Heh. Another nomad... Least it isn't Raffen Shiv.
After a few minutes, the driver put away the gas pump before entering the small and dirty building, a single dinging sound echoing the place.
*Ding!*
Cashier: ?
Inspecting the man in front of him, the cashier took an in depth note of him mentally as the man in question pulled down the bright red scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose and began walking towards him.
Cashier: Messy, spiky brownish black hair, about two to three inches long, small beard of the same color, bushy eyebrows. Gonna guess late 20s, maybe early 30s. Mid 20s at the earliest. Not necessarily a big fella, but... guessing 6 ft 2- 220lbs. Average. Beige trench coat, pair of jeans, black boots, grey sweater, red scarf, all of it tattered up to various degrees in some shape or form. Very nomad like. Though the most interesting thing about him is the lack of any exterior cybernetics. Aside from the silver eyes and the usual jacks on the side of the temple, nothing too flashy on his white skin... probably something hidden behind the oversized coat.
Driver: 30 eddies on pump 2.
Cashier: Hmm?
Driver: ?
Realizing that he was too focused on the man, the plumpish cashier apologized with a nonchalant tone.
Cashier: Oh! Hehe sorry bout that. It's just... It's not often that I see a fresh new face.
