NationStates Jolt Archive

"General! Soviet forces have hit city Sixteen!" The rustling of machine gun fire was as common as leaves in autumn it seemed, because nobody moved. The general sat stood in a run down office, not used since the collapse. He scratched his head. He had to get his convy to city Thirteen...but city sixteen offered to pay him quite a bit. The entire county was threatining to be overtaken.

"The only reason the soviets have so many tanks is because their cities work for nothing. Alright colonel, see to it that whatever is left of our troops gets ready. city Sixteen has more resources...they take precedance."

"Sir, we still need supplies. Half of our tanks are almost runnning on empty! We have no food, no ammo, and worse yet, the troops have started drinking the ethanol!"

"Colonel, thats how it goes. Ever since the collapse, you have to work with what you have, and how you can get it. Now, get on mapquest and fetch me some recon....and please print the map out with the words on it this time!"

"Yes sir!"

"And remember: I didn't get the highscore on Battle Tanks for nothin!"

"Righto!"
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The ethanol driven M1A12's lined up and proceded to roll out of city 26. Felix, the general, was sitting atrp the cupola with his binoculars. Pretty soon they would be rolling into bog country, and partisans just seemed to gravitate towards the swamps. Suddenly the east side lit up with machine gun fire. Felix ducked, nearly dropping his prized binoculars. "Well don't just stand there! Fire!" Felix ducked inside as he heard his tanks rip open thier lazers open up. Each tank had a cre of four: one commander, one driver, and two gunners. Plenty of firepower to handle almost anything.

Already his radio cracked with reports from the tanks. "Two down, two down," "appear to be democratists," and all manner of chatter. Feliz grabbed his radio and yelled into it. "I want you to beat these bastards like a drunk irishmen beats his wife! We cannot get sidetracked on our way to city...uh...city" Felix scratched his head. "Sixteen! Now hurry up!" The tanks answered his orders with firing their rail guns on the insurgents, blowing them and the surronding landscape to pieces. It was over in a few seconds, but the cost had been dear: 3 tanks were out of rounds for their cannons, and one was out of fuel.

All the tanks stopped and turned off their engines. Felix cursed under his breath, wishing he had some decent supplies. It was getting harder to get by in the Horde of Doom. Gone were the days of you and your buddies buyin weapons for dirt cheap and just going crazy. Now there were all sorts of factions, and everything seemed to be scarce. There was nomother choice: he had to look for work...out of the country.

"Colonel, get Captain Jack on the line, and tell him to stop raiding ports for a minute and provide me with some transport. Log on to geocities and make sure to set up an advertiziment. We need some bussiness...can't count on the fascists for nothing."

"Yes sir."

"Alright boys! Switchin sides!" The crews began to clean off any identification of the Fascist Front, including the "Italian War Flags." They deleted their channel codes and threw out the little flags each man had in his tank, the tiny icons were supposed to inspire "nationalism." Most crews couldn't give a damn WHO they fought for anymore, only HOW they fought and how much they got paid.

So, Felix waited, hoping to get a nice little job in some foreign theature. Until then, time to whip out the cards and the cigars...

OOC: Got a war? Need a tank division? Felix has 30 years experiance of CONSTANT warfare. He's got his own tanks, and just needs you to give him some money, fuel, and a little ammo. PMT or FT please Tank info here. (http://www.kitsune.addr.com/Rifts/Rifts-Earth-Vehicles/IA_M1_Abrams.htm) Only difference is Felix's tanks run on ethanol.

"Any news yet?"

"No such luck General....sir, it appears 'Bango's Bandits' wants to link up with us."

"Who they fighting for?"

"Nobody. Pirate Flag, just like us."

"Tell to come on down, maybe we can get some trading done. Do we have anything good?"

"Well, actually I took inventory and we have a television, a generator, and 4 water purifiers we can give up."

"Excellent. Get it ready."
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His pirate flag flying in the wind, Bongo carefully surveyed his surrondings. Swamp to his NE, and nothing but plains around him. He could make out the camp fires of Felix's Fornicators, but he still had to be careful. As he was lost in his thoughts...his tank broke down. "Ohhh....COME ON!" He halted his group of about 30 tanks, and brought up the mechanic. "Damn Phoenixius shit keeps breaking down...thats what you get when you go foreign."

"Problem sir?"

"Yeah....it's busted again."

"The tread?"

"Nah, something with the engine this time...like a 'clack, clack, clack.'"

"Click, click, click?"

"No. I said 'clack.' I think something finally broke off in the damn thing." The mechanic gave it a quick once over, smacked it here and there with a wrench, and it was up and running again. The Tenoth I was a pretty old tank, and Bongo pretty much had to resort to being a petty thief to get missions done. His crew rolled into Felix's campsite, and Bongo gave him a salute. Jumping out of his tank, he brushed off his uniform and shook Felix's hand.

Bongo was a short man, but well built. Felix however looked like a relic from world war one: slender, big moustache, and what seemed like a perpetually crisp uniform.

"So, how ya doin Felix?"

"Eh. My crew is starting to run down, hopin maybe we could trade with you."

"Ya need fuel eh? Your lucky I raided a still. I got enough eth'...what do you got?"

"I got a tv, a generator, and a four purifiers."

"Hm...I'll fill up 2 tanks for that."

"Deal."

Now, the full tanks were not tanks, but ethanol tanks. This, of course, had to be split between nearly 5 tanks, but someone Felix managed. It was getting late, and Bongo didn't quite feel like roaming blindly through the night...his night vision was broken. Felix didn't mind him staying, and the crews mingled. Crews had long, long ago given up the "men only" policy, and it went without saying what acts would be commited tonight.

But rather then focus on the fact their country was in shambles, they had no future, and that only 1% of them was likely to live to 60, they enjoyed themselves: Moonshine, cigars, and salvia. But even with the partying, people were always on watch. Another crew, or god forbid air-pirates, could come out of nowhere. Each man and women had thier own stories: of close calls, missing limbs, and of course ghost vechicles.

"It was one of the more unusual museums ever built. It was dedicated to television shows of the Twentieth Century. In a forgotten corner, a red light could been seen going back and forth. The museum itself was badly damaged and very little was intact. The red light should have long ago broke down. The red light went back and forth as if it was looking for something. It was in the front of a gloss black old pre-collapse sports car. Pre-collapse automobile experts would tell that it is Pontiac Trans-Am from the early part of the Nineteen-Eighties. The car itself appeared to be in perfect condition while all around the car, the displays were virtually destroyed. If one was to look inside, the car would look very unusual with strange displays. It is hard to know if the car is a reproduction or an original car used in the television show. Water had leaked through the damaged roof and animals had destroyed much of what the water had not ruined. The remains of multiple television monitors can be seen around the car. Beside the black car was the remains of a mannikin, miraculously still standing, with the remains of a black leather jacket and the remains of curly hair. The display in front of the car is illegible except for the word "Knight" and there is the remains of a display in front of the mannikin which states his name as "David Has off." The Mannikin is the ghost of a man long dust. Still, something is remembered. Who knows what woke the magic of the car. Maybe there was a sudden peak of magic energy in the local ley line, maybe it was simply time. Still, suddenly something changes and the car puts itself in gear on its own and drives itself out the destroyed relic of the past. The Black Knight was born."

"Sometimes a dream, even a complete fantasy, is so strong it can come to life. This is especially true in the times after the collapse. For years, this car had been the focus of the dream that one man can make a difference and that life did have happy endings. The black car became the dream. The car is very unusual in the fact that unlike most haunted vehicles, it can actually talk to others. There is a speaker in the center of the dash and a bright pulsing light which activates whenever the car talks. The car is completely free willed and can drive wherever he wishes although he prefers to have a person in the driver's seat. The car calls itself "Knight" and is one of the most principled ghost vehicles in existence. It has a strong believe in trying to rescue the innocent and fighting evil. The Black Trans-Am will only allow those of pure heart drive him. He has been in the hands of a techno-wizard, rogue scholar, cyber knight, and an operator since having come to life. The various owners of the car have dubbed it the Black Knight. The only item weird thing with the car is that it does not think of itself as haunted but as a pure technological design and does not consider any of its specially abilities to be magical in nature. The car also likes talking about his previous owner named "Michael" and talks as if he was a real person, not a character in an ancient pre-collapse television series. He also loves to talk about one of his previous mechanics named "Bonnie" who is just as fictitious as Michael. The black sports car will simply ignore any suggestions that this "Michael" or "Bonnie" were not real people."

"The magic which caused the car to be reborn seems to have also made the car incredibly strong. The car seems to have the ability to almost withstand the damage of a tank. The black ghost car also seems to be able to regenerate damage. Several times, the car was badly damaged and came back several days later looking like it had never been hit. Unlike many ghost vehicles, the haunted Trans-Am seems to not reject new components and actually seems to relish new equipment. A full advanced electronic suite has been added to the car and a pair of pulse lasers and mini-missile launchers have also been added to the vehicle. The pulse lasers are based on pistol mounts and are mounted in the vehicle's headlights. It is likely that the operator who owned the car for a period of time had the weapon systems and new electronics added. In addition, the techno-wizard owner added a number of techno-wizard enchantments including the ability to become impervious to energy, become invisible, and to create an incredibly strong force field. While the car does not believe in magic, he can still activated the enchantments and the magic energy is pulled from the automobiles magical energies. The enchantments can also be activated by the driver if desired."

"The ghost energies also seem to give the sports car virtually unlimited endurance although about every five hundred miles, the car has to stop for about an hour to recharge. The car seems to have the ability of perfect traction and can drive on virtually any terrain. It does not slip on ice or hydroplane on wet roads. The Ghost Cars top speed is also pretty incredible and the can reach speeds of up to around 220 miles per hour which is about 100 miles per hour in excess of what the original 1982 Pontiac Trans-Am could reach normally. Still, even with its perfect traction, it cannot reach top speed except on smooth and level terrain. The black sports car seems to rarely get lost and seems to have a natural sense of direction. While the car itself does not seem especially lucky, it seems to give its passengers very good luck."

"Bullsh*t!"

Withc a chuckle they continued spinning tales, and hoping for work.

i may have a war for you

(just contact the group)

Felix stretched his arms, and rolled out of his cot. The girl that was formally beside him remained unmoved, to deep into a drunken slumber. Felix shined his ranks, his boots, and his cap seemingly dead to the world. When he was cleaning his uniform, a bomb could go off and he wouldn't notice.

Bongo entered his tent and rendered a salute. By now, Felix was done, and he returned the favor.

"Well, where you off to, Bongo my boy?"

"Thinking about heading into the wastes, see what I can scrap overthere. You?"

"Well, we left Fascist service, but I was thinking about raiding a town for supplies. Trying to look for work out of country you know."

"Really? Wow...out of country."

Both men reflected. Before the collapse, The Horde of Doom and the National Bolshevist Party stood ready to dominate the world. Tanks, subs, and tons of other materials were inexcess. Then, country collapsed for some reason. Felix's great-great-grandfather had been a pilot in the Red Airforce, and Felix still had his rank on him. Every since the fall, nobody but the navy ever left the island...left the horde...

"Well Felix....my crew ain't got a better place to go....and I know some pilots in the smae predicament. Whatta ya say we link up?" Felix twirled his moustache.

"Alright then. Lets settle it."

The crews were eager to repaint thier symbols, but first they had to come up with a name. After much delibiration they decided on "The Bucking Fitches," but the artist misheard them and painted "The Bucking Finches" on all the tanks. So, with a hearty laugh, and with the pilots touching down, the Bucking Fitches were born. They began setting up a more permanent base and found the discovery of a life time: An MT-103 Mammoth Super Heavy Tank rotting in the bog. Felix and Bongo, after a quick inspection, noticed the only thing unsubmerged was the hatch, and after 20 minutes of trying to open it, finally managed to enter. The tank was massive, the interior fully preserved. It took 5 to operate the tank, and it had room for about six soldiers in full gear. After exploring a bit more, thye called the mechanics in, to see if they could raise her.

what is the name of the gourp