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Post by Luke on May 3, 2012 13:13:19 GMT -7
Luke shrugged and shouldered his rifle.
"Let's find out, shall we?" Luke said as he walked closer to the stange man, snapping his fingers.
"Hey, hey! Look here laddie." Luke held up an index figure, almost like an eye exam. "Follow my finger friend."
Luke then proceeded to move his finger back and forth slowly. The strange drunken man followed it with his head, barely. Luke did this for awhile until he stopped, still holding up his finger. Without warning, Luke punched him once in the face. Miguel laughed slightly before expressing concern.
"What was that for, amigo?" asked Migule as the stranger fell to the ground, dazed.
"I had to make sure he was actually hung over," replied Luke, hefting their new friend back on his feet, "and not some psychotic man eater. Isn't that rightr?" The man spoke once again with heavily slurred speach. Moans from the surronding countryside put Luke back into military mode.
"Help me get him in the truck. Quickly," they hefted him over to the white four-door pickup. Lola opened the door for Luke and Miguel. The duo uncerimoniously dumped him in the backseat and Miguel climbed in. Luke trotted over to his bike and got it upright.
"Alright people," he said when he got his walkie back out, "We should reach the city in about an hour. Heads on swivel people...who knows what else awaits us on the highway to hell."
With that, Luke started his bike up, and roared down the road. Bubba and the others in the truck were close behind.
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Post by Miguel D'Cruz on May 7, 2012 13:00:51 GMT -7
Miguel sat in the back of the white truck with the drunk. Lola and Bubba claimed the front and Luke had the lead with the motorcycle. Miguel opened the back window of the truck and leaned against the back of the seat so he could get a better view. The drunk was quiet for a moment, looking around with a vague expression. Then his eyes suddenly widened and he pulled on the sleeve of Miguel's denim jacket wildly.
"Oo! Stap de troo- hic... uck!"
Miguel stared at him a moment, trying to desipher his drunken speech. "Que...? Oh! Hey-... .... Wait," he turned back to the man. "Why are we stopping the truck?"
"Stop the truck?" Lola asked, alarmed.
Miguel looked at her with a dismissive wave. "No, no, no... Wait- we'll see what he says fi-"
Miguel was cut off when the drunk grabbed the collar of his jacket and Miguel was forced *very* close the other man's face.
"De VODKA!"
Miguel stared at him... And stared... and stared. Then the man let go and slouched back in his seat with a sigh. He exchanged glances with Lola, who then turned and sat primly in her seat. Miguel decided to probe the man for a few answers in hopes that one would be answered.
"So... What's your name?"
The man came back to life and tried to salute but smacked himself in the forehead instead as he said with slurred tongue and leaned against Miguel, "Imm... ahh... Zuhkov..."
Zuhkov? Is he Russian? Suddenly, his new Russian friend wrapped his arms around him in a sloppy hug as he practically passed out. In the unfortunate limited space of the back, Miguel tried to wriggle out of Zuhkov's grip. He missed Bubba looking at the rear view mirror with a blank look. With an irritated sigh, Miguel gave up and sat still since struggling had caused Zuhkov to tighten the hug. Lola turned and stared at them.
"Don't... Say... Anything..."
(We need to get Zuhkov on here... But look at that- I got him, Bubba, and Lola in there!)
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