TCS: Survivors of the ARKs

ARK: Haywire

"Quite the commotion going on back here. I swore I heard the sound of saddle reins being pulled... It's when I heard a loud boom that I figured something else was happening."

"And what's that supposed to mean, big guy?" Chase tilted his head at him, as he delivered a fist bump to the large man's shoulder. Slightly intimidated by Bob, he certainly was. Bob was a large individual, sure, not nearly as large as others who the former mercenary leader had come upon during his past travels, but there was no denying that this square-jawed bloke from the twenty-first century was someone you would not want to make enemies with.

Watching as the man returned the fist bump to his shoulder, with a larger, more muscular hand and arm, Chase's ego was shanked by a rusty knife.

"What are you doing out here anyway? Survivors are prohibited from entering the ruins of this city."

"I was about to ask you the same."

"Well, I, for one, have been hired by the Federation themselves, to seek out and shoo away some group of people who live in this wreck of a place. Told me I'd be paid handsomely if I-"

"Wait, you were hired too?" Bob interrupted, raising an eyebrow which Chase could see through the large eyeholes on his helmet.

Chase stopped up for a moment. As if a few screws had gone loose on their own, he struggled to find words for what felt like a solid minute before he was able to mumble to himself, "They never mentioned anyone else taking the job..."

"Oh, they didn't tell me either, and for good reason too." Bob followed up, reaching over to attach the tripod he held to his toolbelt, beside his now sheathed and tucked-away sword. "Think fast."

Chase scrambled as a piece of rolled-up paper was thrown his way, catching, but fumbling it in his hands before getting a good hold on it. He shook his head slightly, before rolling out the sheet. The stench of rotten flesh suddenly smacked against his mask, causing him to gag and his face to contort into a disgusted expression. The entire piece of paper was covered in dirt, and what had to have been pieces of gut and dried blood.
"The hell is this?"

"A map. Only a few days old." Bob shortly explained. "Found it in a pile of corpses. Survivors. Some of those poor bastards were missing limbs, some were burnt beyond recognition."

So thats where the Federation had spent all their paper-printed maps. Chase's heart sank as he realized that he, nor Bob had been the first to take this job, and they certainly wouldn't be the last if the task at hand remained unfinished.

"Christ-sake... How long have you been out here?"

"Since yesterday. Still on the trail of those bastards, but I think I've lost them. And these maps aren't helping at all."

"You met the targets?" Chase asked as Bob implied he had come in contact with the same group he was on the lookout for.

Bob scoffed to himself, turning around to take in his surroundings as he quietly said, "More like they met me. Came to me in the dead of night, though the darkness would be on their side."

"How were they like?"

"Tribal. Reminded me of some sort of Southern natives, If that makes sense. Depends on when in human history you're from I guess. They wore robes and loincloths, their faces were covered by either cloth or some freaky-looking mask."

"Hm. You'd think people as primitive as that kind would've stood no chance against the bloodthirsty robots in these ruins."

"Oh, don't underestimate them just yet. I almost had a javelin pierce my chest. Wouldn't have seen it coming hadn't I had pretty good eyes for the dark. And trust me, it was sharp as all hell. Their weapons would have no problem going straight through us, or even that Baryonyx you got there."

The sound of this made not only Chase shudder, but even Barry seemed to experience discomfort as Bob waved around with his hands to try to visualize the length of the sharp blade he had almost been impaled by. As if the thought of these vicious men and women weren't bad enough, Chase's soul would be sunk even further as an ear-piercing mechanical shriek erupted from elsewhere in the city ruins, the sound echoing and bouncing between the walls of the skyscrapers, making it impossible to tell if it had come from something nearby, or something far off in the distance.

Even Bob seemed to freeze at the sound, flinching as his head spun around in all directions.
Chase, on the other hand, was cowering up against Barry, recognizing the howl of another Juggernaut. Whatever that sound was, it was one he had heard a solid few times now, during both of his visits to Nova, and so far, he had been able to identify it as a warning call, or a fuming cry of fury. Barry growled and rumbled, fear striking the theropod as it too recognized the noise of a machine akin to the one that had almost taken its life mere minutes ago.

"You hear that? Thats another one of those centaurs."

"And it sounds like it's under attack. But what are our chances that it's just some wildlife coming in contact with it, and not our mysterious group of tek-salvaging cavemen?"

"No clue. Only one way to find out."

Chase secretly hoped that it would be the latter, as already, the true nature of this unforgiving place had fully settled in his body, tensing him up beyond his own control. No breathing techniques he tried at the moment helped his heart rate slow down, and anxiety began to set in. All he wanted was to get out of there as soon as he possibly could, but his promised price was too much for him to just give up on. This was his chance to finally return to a tame lifestyle, one where he wouldn't have to fear for his own life and survival on an hourly basis, one where the possibility of everything in a matter of minutes was almost perfectly erased. Others have adjusted to the rush of having to survive in this new and wild world, hell, some even found it addicting, with Bob as a great example of such a person, someone who didn't fear the unknown. Chase for a while was like this, but his change of heart would come as a slow burner.

Taking a deep breath, he tried his best to collect himself before planting his hands on his Baryonyx again. It took all his mental and physical strength just to reach up to the saddle and hoist himself onto it.

"By the way, what was that tripod thing you were holding for anyway?" He started, trying to strike up a conversation with the large man to distract himself from his own worries.

Although he couldn't directly see it, he could tell from Bob's eyes alone that he was smiling beneath his helmet, his cheeks pushing his eyes up as he gleefully turned around to reveal he was actually carrying a massive firearm on his back, one that resembled a Gatling gun or a mounted minigun from his time, but sleeker, smaller and more compact, fit to be held by a human. The former mercenary was in complete shock at the sight, as he thought that a weapon of that caliber could never in any lifetime be hand-held by a human. Once again, his new life as a survivor had proven him wrong.