Finally the next part of my awsome story.
Mr Malone still had a look of utter annoyence about him. Driving around with this bunch of homicidal lunatics was not his idea of a good time, but he had pledged allegiance to the Cause, this land had to be cleansed. The problem was you weren't supposed to enjoy the killing.
The truck pulled up to what must have once been a petrol station and it probably still had been one not that long ago, as it was still on fire. In front of the burning building there was a mutant tied to a chair and further along the road there was a corpse, who'd ended it's life in one burning carcase, it appeared to have been running after something before succombing to flames.
"Mr Weathlene please follow me.", ordered Malone, "The rest of you stay here."
Custer Weathlene was a small weasly fellow, he was average at most things except sneaking around and obsessing over trivial things. He was expendable, he was the guy you sent on point, he was the guy who would pull the short straw every time, he was the guy who would strap dynamite to his chest and he would do it gladly as he had nothing to live for.
The mutant tied to the chair looked extremely worried, he wasn't difformed as such, but his skin complexion was that of a jamaican chicken wing, which was insanely unerving.
"So what the heck happened here?" asked Malone grinning from ear to ear.
The mutant snarled, "You should know. It was one of your retarded sociapath buddies who did this.", came the anger filled reply.
"What the hell is this place anyway. Oil reserves are virtually non existant, why would you need a god damn petrol station?" asked the ever curious Custer.
The mutant looked taken aback by the directness question in such a situation, but thought what the hell he is dead either way. "I struck a deal with my brother, he is a farmer and I take all his animal's unwanted waste products off him. There are dozens of cars running on methane in the vincinty. Which means i make a living. Well made a living.", came the strangely intelligent answer.
"On methane? Wow that's pretty smart for a mutant. How...How does it all actually work?" Custer Weathlene continued curiosity pouring out of him.
The mutant suddenly had a glimmer of hope, he had a life line, he smiled and was just about to get ready for a long tirade on the intricasies of a methane run motor, when Mr Malone, face turned away from the mutant, but gun pointing right at him, point blanked the poor thing in the head.
As the chair toppled over, Custer looked up at Malone and the Villagers leader turned round and said, "They have nothing to teach us.", he turned round and continued, "Mr Boot, please burn whatever isn't burnt.", turning back to Custer he finished "Only a mutant would think of powering their transport with shit."
The truck pulled up to what must have once been a petrol station and it probably still had been one not that long ago, as it was still on fire. In front of the burning building there was a mutant tied to a chair and further along the road there was a corpse, who'd ended it's life in one burning carcase, it appeared to have been running after something before succombing to flames.
"Mr Weathlene please follow me.", ordered Malone, "The rest of you stay here."
Custer Weathlene was a small weasly fellow, he was average at most things except sneaking around and obsessing over trivial things. He was expendable, he was the guy you sent on point, he was the guy who would pull the short straw every time, he was the guy who would strap dynamite to his chest and he would do it gladly as he had nothing to live for.
The mutant tied to the chair looked extremely worried, he wasn't difformed as such, but his skin complexion was that of a jamaican chicken wing, which was insanely unerving.
"So what the heck happened here?" asked Malone grinning from ear to ear.
The mutant snarled, "You should know. It was one of your retarded sociapath buddies who did this.", came the anger filled reply.
"What the hell is this place anyway. Oil reserves are virtually non existant, why would you need a god damn petrol station?" asked the ever curious Custer.
The mutant looked taken aback by the directness question in such a situation, but thought what the hell he is dead either way. "I struck a deal with my brother, he is a farmer and I take all his animal's unwanted waste products off him. There are dozens of cars running on methane in the vincinty. Which means i make a living. Well made a living.", came the strangely intelligent answer.
"On methane? Wow that's pretty smart for a mutant. How...How does it all actually work?" Custer Weathlene continued curiosity pouring out of him.
The mutant suddenly had a glimmer of hope, he had a life line, he smiled and was just about to get ready for a long tirade on the intricasies of a methane run motor, when Mr Malone, face turned away from the mutant, but gun pointing right at him, point blanked the poor thing in the head.
As the chair toppled over, Custer looked up at Malone and the Villagers leader turned round and said, "They have nothing to teach us.", he turned round and continued, "Mr Boot, please burn whatever isn't burnt.", turning back to Custer he finished "Only a mutant would think of powering their transport with shit."