Meanwhile, in Brown Town...
Oh dear.. This doesn't look like the farmer's market at all. I must have taken a wrong turn at the cactus.
In the middle of a dusty street, was a young woman with puffy blue hair.
The city wasn't so much built as it was piled up.
Brown Town was a sprawl of corrugated iron, scrap, and sand-blasted brick buildings.
Launch looked lost.
She clutched a grocery bag to her chest.
Her eyes was darting nervously between the towering mounds of scrap metal.
She walked up to a group of men leaning against a modified dune buggy. They didn't look friendly. Their arms were thick with tattoos.
"Excuse me, sirs? Could you point me toward the nearest bus stop?"
The men exchanged glances.
Slow grins crept across their faces. They pushed off the buggy and started to fan out around her.
"A bus stop?" One of the Scrappers chuckled, spitting a toothpick onto the ground.
"You're a long way from home, sweetheart. We don't have buses here."
"You look lost. Stick with us. We'll have some fun first… then maybe we'll see about getting you home." The other added.
"I appreciate the offer, gentlemen, but I'm not trying to go home. I'm heading to the farmers' market."
"You didn't get it, did you? That wasn't a request."
Launch stepped back.
Dust kicked up off the street and blew into her face.
Her nose twitched, eyes burning as they filled with tears.
"Ah... ah..." She tilted her head back.
"CHOO!"
The sneeze was loud, echoing off the metal walls.
When her head snapped back down, the blue hair was gone.
In its place was a wild spill of blonde hair.
The fear was gone, replaced by a angry stare.
The blonde Launch cracked her neck and looked them over.
"Where the fuck am I?"
One of the scrappers blinked, thrown by the sudden shift.
"What the hell…?"
"How did you do that?"
Launch snorted.
"Do what? You high or something? 'Cause up close, you two look like a couple of burned-out junkies."
"Watch your mouth."
He jabbed a finger toward her chest.
"You pull some weird shit, then start running your mouth like you own the place? You're real close to getting hurt."
Launch didn't answer with words.
She reached into the grocery bag. Between the radishes was a submachine gun. She brought it up and smashed the scrapper across the jaw with it.
CRACK.
He hit the dirt instantly.
"What the fuck—"
The other scrapper jumped back startled, but Launch already had the gun leveled at him.
"You're done, asshole. Toss me the keys to this rust bucket."
"Do you have any idea who you're messing with?!"
Launch shot him in the knee.
He went down screaming.
She glanced at the buggy, then back at him.
"Actually… looks like the keys are still in it."
Launch turned, climbed into the desert buggy, and drove deeper into the city.
The scrapper lay on his side, clutching his knee, breath coming in wet, panicked bursts.
Blood soaked into the dirt beneath him.
He fumbled at his belt with shaking fingers until he found the walkie-talkie.
"...Control, come in...shit...come in!" He hissed.
"We got a problem."
...
....
Static, then a voice answered, annoyed more than alarmed.
"Yeah? This better be good, i'm in the middle of my lunch."
"...Blonde woman. Short. Looked harmless at first. She just showed up out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she pulls a real gun out of a grocery bag. Dropped Rake. Shot me. Took the buggy."
There was a pause.
He could hear a chewing.
"…A grocery bag, you calling me while bleeding out to tell me a joke?"
"I'm serious!" The scrapper winced, gripping his leg harder.
"Blonde woman. There was something off about her eyes. One second she's scared, blue hair… next second she's blonde and different. I don't know, man!"
Grizzlo sighed.
"Alright. First off, stop screaming. You're gonna make it worse." He cleared his throat.
"Second, did you idiots try to rough her up?"
The scrapper didn't answer.
"Took that as a yes, unbelievable. Yamcha leaves me in charge for one afternoon…"
"S-so what do we do?" the scrapper asked.
"I'll get someone out there for you. The girl? We'll take care of her."
Static swallowed the line.
Back at the main Scrapper encampment , a fortified ring of heavy tents and prefab structures located in the dead center of the ruins.
Grizzlo was a massive anthropomorphic grizzly bear, easily seven feet tall. He wore a vest that was straining against his gut, a pair of aviator sunglasses, and he was currently leaning back in a reinforced lawn chair, nursing a lukewarm soda.
"Yo, Diesella." Grizzlo rumbled, scratching his hairy stomach with one massive claw.
"Radio just buzzed. Boys are crying at the main entrance. Says we got a situation with a tourist."
Diesella sat on a crate nearby, meticulously cleaning a combat knife. She was a tall, sharp-featured human woman.
"A tourist?" Diesella didn't even look up.
"Yeah, apparently, this little lady has a kick. She knocked out two of the boys cold and hijacked a buggy. They say she's a blonde with a machine gun and a really bad attitude."
Diesella stopped cleaning her knife.
"She took out two scrapers?"
"Yup." Grizzlo took a sip of his soda.
"Thinking about sending a squad over. Maybe six guys? That oughta wrap it up. No need for the big guns, right?"
"Six guys..." Diesella looked around the camp.
It was hot, dusty, and incredibly boring.
The most exciting thing that had happened all day was Grizzlo belching the alphabet.
She stood up, sheathing her knife.
"No." she said, dusting off her pants.
"Cancel the squad."
"Hah? You want her to get away?"
"I want something to do."
Diesella walked toward their personal vehicle, a heavy-duty armored jeep with a mounted turret.
"I'm dying of boredom here watching you scratch yourself. If she's got some fight in her, maybe she'll actually be entertaining for five minutes."
Grizzlo groaned, hauling his bulk out of the chair.
"You're always so intense, Di-Di." he complained, stretching his back until it cracked like a gunshot.
"Fine, fine. Let's go say hello to the tourist."
"Don't call me Di-Di."