Ain't Talkin'

The bunker had a real ass on it once Jex and Roche ventured past the entryway. Barracks and cafeterias opened onto the left and right. There was a medical wing further down, but Jex led Roche to the armory. Being an old-world government bunker, it thankfully had been equipped with a military-grade, state of the art armory.

Jex snapped the lights on with a lever by the door to the armory. Light-tables, overhead flourescents and a series of halogens over Jex’s workstation sputtered, blinked and flicked to life. Racks and racks and racks of hardware.

Long barreled pistols, shotguns, pumps and breaks, rifles, old-world and newer tech, long rage guns, automatics and squads, even an eight barrel mini with an ammunition pack of belt-fed beauty in one corner. Body armor, riot gear, steel plate and carbon weave plates. Military regalia, jackets, long coats, bandoliers, drop packs, bags, haversacks and even a racks of sunglasses. Machetes, long knives, boot jacks, and one or two black steel swords.

“Who the fuck fights with a sword nowadays, Jex?”

Jex crossed the room with a tapping of his iron peg. Flipping the sword off the table he spun it. “Intimidation, Roche. Some walkers and highwaymen like the idea of carrying a blade. Something quixotic about it I guess.”

“Not practical. You didn’t happen to outfit the mugs who drew down on me earlier did you?”

Jex slid the sword back onto the table where it had lay. “Doubt it. Haven’t outfitted any mercs in a month or so, why’d you ask. They breathing?”

“Highwaymen, and no they’re not breathing anymore.” Roche lit a cigarette.

“Should’ve known better than to draw on a walker. But, no. Weren’t me.” Jex fired up his pipe, it had gone out. “Have a look around.”

Roche obliged him. The walker checked the guns, picking up and aiming at nothing, cocking slides and pulling triggers on empty chambers. Jex’s wares were the best, though Roche had no clue who his supplier was, he didn’t much care.

He went over the stock once and then twice. Jex waited patiently, smoking his pipe and cleaning the sawed-off. The whole process took well over an hour, but both men were patient beyond many things.

“Clean up the sawed-off.”

“Did already, while you’ve been looking. Got a belt with loops that’ll fit the shells. And I have shells.”

“Leave it to you. I’ll need body armor. Something lightweight that I can wear under a jacket.”

“Nothing bulky, got it.”

“I’ll need a long gun. The A-Mat in the corner will do nicely.”

“It’s yours for eight-hundred. Plus rounds and a back sleeve, make it nine.”

“Done, and a sidearm. That .45 you have, got a good pull to it?”

Jex drew the gun and handed it to Roche. “Hairpin and a smooth slide. Kick isn’t bad neither.”

“I’ll take one.”

“Take that one, I have others.” Jex slid the holster off of his shoulders and handed it to Roche who took his jacket from his shoulders and slung the hostler in place across his back. “Anything else?”

“How’re you fixed for horses?” Roche smiled and tugged on his smoke.