Aggressive Negotiations (Open)

[Gleam]

Jagd sprints for the shelter of a subway entrance and throws himself headlong down the steps, the standing water in the tunnel breaking his fall - they never had quite flushed out, leaving a four to five foot water floor throughout the entire subterranean complex. The harsh bark of small-arms fire propelled him onwards through the waist-deep water.

His least favorite part of the post apocalyptic world: looters. The ragtag gangs of desperate thugs that, rather than attempt to band together with the stable settlements, continued to rape the ruins for luxuries, preserved foods, and human entertainment. And a band of them is in hot pursuit now.

It's not the first time Jagd's been shot at, not by a long mile, but he's not eager to take them on when he's outnumbered four-to-one. Instead he ducks low in the stagnant water, trusting it to hide him, as he skulks towards a distant exit and crawls out of the murky stuff, silently spitting out what he can.

But the crack of a pebble beneath shoe alarms him, and he hisses in frustration and whirls towards it.

[Matthew Kerr]

Times Square. He had had high hopes of seeing this place during the New Year celebrations; it had always looked so astonishing on TV. Unfortunately, the year he had actually travelled to New York was also the year the world had ended. Oh, how his timing sucked.

Now, the place was just a broken down city of rubble and New Year had come and gone (or had it? Time was an irrelevant concept now and so hard to keep track of). Matt ran a hand over his eyepatch, resisting the urge to scratch it as he wandered aimlessly about the city. He really should find a new shelter, but for now he was too busy enjoying the peacefulness of the air (ignoring the reasons for the relative quiet, of course).

That was, until banging echoed from somewhere near him – it sounded vaguely like gunfire, but he couldn’t be sure. Matt had been lucky enough not to have any unfortunate run-ins with bandits and rogues, but that didn’t mean he was ignorant of their existence. He was wary, but he couldn’t help but approach the subway where it seemed the shots had echoed out of.

He walked toward the entrance, stupidly not making much move to be stealthy (well, the shots hadn’t been that close, had they?) and almost jumped when a man whirled around to face him. ”Woah there.” He raised his hands in surrender. ”I come in peace.” He smiled, but tensed himself to either fight or flight, if need be.

[Gleam]

Jagd raises his eyebrows at the other man - he lacked the outrageous outfits the looters tended to wear, which was anything they cared to steal mashed together without rhyme or reason. Hiking boots with wedding gowns, sweatsuits and Armani, a mishmash of fabric and style that generally pained the eyes and made them distinctive.

Then the scarred man cracks a smile and leans back against the wall, hands distancing themselves from the pockets of his thick pants. "You picked a real bad time to come in peace." Jagd comments with a head shake. "There's a pack of looters behind me and at least two have small arms, sounds like pistols. I'm not eager to find out."

The echoing sounds of water sloshing begin to echo up the tunnel and cause Jagd's head to twitch, after which he pushes off the wall and climbs up to the peak of the stairs.