The Nuvola Sky Carrier

With the clunk of sun baked metal, Phoebe would hoist another part in to the bed of her pick up truck. Dusting her hands if rust off. She didn’t usually have much of a reason to visit the scrap yard, but a curiosity had come to her a few days before hand. And of course, finding parts for some of the older lab machinery was always a plus.

Though the main reason she was there lay in a small, box like device in her hand. It hadn’t gone off much yet, much to her expectation but it’s intended use was quite interesting. A device she’d developed to recognise the signature of the Maverick virus. Able to scan the air waves for any matching digital signatures from long passed mechanicaloids in the scrap yard.

She’d wander back in, pressing the button to activate another wave, but as expected nothing seemed to stir, fortunately she supposed. Yet she’d keep it tucked handy in her belt for the time being. If something of the like were to be near by, she’d know from the blipping noise it would start to make.

Mamba would sigh and exhale again, reclining back in his seat as he’d hear her out. He seemed content that his gut feeling was right, at least from his perspective as she explained her side of the situation.

“Very well. I can accept needs must.” Mamba would answer dismissively. His eyes more focused on the club rather than at her as he listened. “Not like I can send a lady away in times of need. That’d just be cruel.” he’d insist and flag over one of the waiters. “I wont pry in to the specifics of your circumstance, but can I offer you a drink for the trouble of bringing mine?” he’d ask her. “I’ll even have one or two men keep an eye out so the coast is clear, permitting you knowyour way around?” 

He’d been in that position after all. It could be a desperate time and while he remained stoic to her, he did sympathise. It was tough when the world collapsed around you… “Damnable hunters are getting too bold these days. Harassing youngsters in the street. Tch…”

Youngsters! She had to hold back her laugh. If he only knew. 

His demeanor had her questioning whether or not he was a maverick. The two men keeping an eye could be a trap. Or perhaps he just assumed she was labeled maverick and he was aiding one of his own. It made sense if he did.

Whatever the reason she wanted to do her best to try and leave on good terms. It’d make getting back to her hideaway far easier and she didn’t want to have to repair one of her own limbs again.  

“So how long have you been in Abel city?” He’d enquire. More an ice breaker than anything on his part, though learning her angle on things wouldn’t be too bad. “It’s pretty risky looking for work here when your not in the hunters good books.” the serpent would ponder. “Though I suppose there’s plenty to go around if you know the sort.” he’d huff lightly, expelling another small plume from his snout and extinguishing the embers in the ashtray, feeling his chemical stores were sated for now.

With the clunk of sun baked metal, Phoebe would hoist another part in to the bed of her pick up truck. Dusting her hands if rust off. She didn’t usually have much of a reason to visit the scrap yard, but a curiosity had come to her a few days before hand. And of course, finding parts for some of the older lab machinery was always a plus.

Though the main reason she was there lay in a small, box like device in her hand. It hadn’t gone off much yet, much to her expectation but it’s intended use was quite interesting. A device she’d developed to recognise the signature of the Maverick virus. Able to scan the air waves for any matching digital signatures from long passed mechanicaloids in the scrap yard.

She’d wander back in, pressing the button to activate another wave, but as expected nothing seemed to stir, fortunately she supposed. Yet she’d keep it tucked handy in her belt for the time being. If something of the like were to be near by, she’d know from the blipping noise it would start to make.

With the clunk of sun baked metal, Phoebe would hoist another part in to the bed of her pick up truck. Dusting her hands if rust off. She didn’t usually have much of a reason to visit the scrap yard, but a curiosity had come to her a few days before hand. And of course, finding parts for some of the older lab machinery was always a plus.

Though the main reason she was there lay in a small, box like device in her hand. It hadn’t gone off much yet, much to her expectation but it’s intended use was quite interesting. A device she’d developed to recognise the signature of the Maverick virus. Able to scan the air waves for any matching digital signatures from long passed mechanicaloids in the scrap yard.

She’d wander back in, pressing the button to activate another wave, but as expected nothing seemed to stir, fortunately she supposed. Yet she’d keep it tucked handy in her belt for the time being. If something of the like were to be near by, she’d know from the blipping noise it would start to make.

The staring down of the huge maverick she had previously thought she’d shaken, crouched in the corner of her truck staring her down with as much bafflement as she had threw her through several mental and emotional loops. She wasn’t sure if she were to laugh, cry or ball up in to the smallest bundle she could manage.

“I er…ah…. I guess it’s your truck now. Good luck.” She’d stammer, turning on her heel and attempting a quick frog march away from him.

“Well, that depends on the type of information you’re after really.” She’d answer him back nervously, stepping back away from him a few more feet as he’d hop off the truck bed. Perhaps she could keep him in front of the security cameras long enough and stall him if she got him talking to her? It was worth a shot to wait out on security.

With the clunk of sun baked metal, Phoebe would hoist another part in to the bed of her pick up truck. Dusting her hands if rust off. She didn’t usually have much of a reason to visit the scrap yard, but a curiosity had come to her a few days before hand. And of course, finding parts for some of the older lab machinery was always a plus.

Though the main reason she was there lay in a small, box like device in her hand. It hadn’t gone off much yet, much to her expectation but it’s intended use was quite interesting. A device she’d developed to recognise the signature of the Maverick virus. Able to scan the air waves for any matching digital signatures from long passed mechanicaloids in the scrap yard.

She’d wander back in, pressing the button to activate another wave, but as expected nothing seemed to stir, fortunately she supposed. Yet she’d keep it tucked handy in her belt for the time being. If something of the like were to be near by, she’d know from the blipping noise it would start to make.

The staring down of the huge maverick she had previously thought she’d shaken, crouched in the corner of her truck staring her down with as much bafflement as she had threw her through several mental and emotional loops. She wasn’t sure if she were to laugh, cry or ball up in to the smallest bundle she could manage.

“I er...ah.... I guess it’s your truck now. Good luck.” She’d stammer, turning on her heel and attempting a quick frog march away from him.

With the clunk of sun baked metal, Phoebe would hoist another part in to the bed of her pick up truck. Dusting her hands if rust off. She didn’t usually have much of a reason to visit the scrap yard, but a curiosity had come to her a few days before hand. And of course, finding parts for some of the older lab machinery was always a plus.

Though the main reason she was there lay in a small, box like device in her hand. It hadn’t gone off much yet, much to her expectation but it’s intended use was quite interesting. A device she’d developed to recognise the signature of the Maverick virus. Able to scan the air waves for any matching digital signatures from long passed mechanicaloids in the scrap yard.

She’d wander back in, pressing the button to activate another wave, but as expected nothing seemed to stir, fortunately she supposed. Yet she’d keep it tucked handy in her belt for the time being. If something of the like were to be near by, she’d know from the blipping noise it would start to make.

Fortunately for moth, Phoebes timing seemed to be impeccable as she’d look back at the road, and of course once getting near civilisation of some sort, she’d have to adhere to the speed limit and slow down. Trying to calm down and put what happened in the scrap yard behind her.

The engines would quiet and the door would open and slam shut as the trucks occupant would get out and pause. Phoebe would stretch her legs and hiss an exasperated sigh as her focus went on to an empty lot... her gaze lingering sadly for a moment as memories of... her thoughts would then intentionally interrupt themselves with the task at hand.

“Harmony, hm? A nice name.” He’d comment. “I’m sure not much for introductions are needed since the ‘recruitment intervies’, but you may call me Mamba.” he would introduce himself. Manners were all part of charm after all. “Tell me. You seem to have gotten yourself in a spot of bother with the law. It’s the only reason I can think an S class hunter was spotted on the premises so brazenly and a whole new face was suddenly added to my roster.” He would get down to business immediately. 

Mamba half considered her to be a plant of some kind, a spy, but the less subtle nature of her entrance didn’t add up to him… he could only speculate, or take the sensible option and ask her himself from here.

“So, let’s start anew here and ask the obvious question.” he’d light up a cigarette and place it in its holder, his long, forked tongue wrapping around the handle and taking a long and concentrated drag and resting his face in his palm as he’d look down at her again. “What the heck are you doing, young lady?”

“Well thank you Mamba Im quite fond of my name myself. “

She watched for a moment as the trail of smoke lazily snaked up up from the freshly lit cigarette. The close proximity was enough for her to give him a casual look over. He was certainly more intimidating up close. At least for the moment he was civil. It remained to be seen how long that would last. 

“I’m sure you know there are a host of reasons why people living down here would want to avoid talking with hunters.” She shifted slightly on her tabletop perch so she could send him a smile, “I mean, who wants to be interrogated by someone that can decide then and there who is worth living and who deserves to be sent to the scrapyard when we are all just trying to get by?” 

“Very well. I can accept needs must.” Mamba would answer dismissively. His eyes more focused on the club rather than at her as he listened. “Not like I can send a lady away in times of need. That’d just be cruel.” he’d insist and flag over one of the waiters. “I wont pry in to the specifics of your circumstance, but can I offer you a drink for the trouble of bringing mine?” he’d ask her. “I’ll even have one or two men keep an eye out so the coast is clear, permitting you knowyour way around?” 

With the clunk of sun baked metal, Phoebe would hoist another part in to the bed of her pick up truck. Dusting her hands if rust off. She didn't usually have much of a reason to visit the scrap yard, but a curiosity had come to her a few days before hand. And of course, finding parts for some of the older lab machinery was always a plus.

Though the main reason she was there lay in a small, box like device in her hand. It hadn't gone off much yet, much to her expectation but it's intended use was quite interesting. A device she'd developed to recognise the signature of the Maverick virus. Able to scan the air waves for any matching digital signatures from long passed mechanicaloids in the scrap yard.

She'd wander back in, pressing the button to activate another wave, but as expected nothing seemed to stir, fortunately she supposed. Yet she'd keep it tucked handy in her belt for the time being. If something of the like were to be near by, she'd know from the blipping noise it would start to make.

Fortunately for moth, Phoebes timing seemed to be impeccable as she’d look back at the road, and of course once getting near civilisation of some sort, she’d have to adhere to the speed limit and slow down. Trying to calm down and put what happened in the scrap yard behind her.