Cloudy with a chance of murder [CLOSED]

Heavy grey clouds clung to the sky, covering the old Chicago skyline. The fear of burning rain falling from the sky would hopefully keep many of the scavengers at bay. Hamish needed to be alone right now. He raked through the debris, trying to find the part he desperately need to finish his project; a CPU to bring his creation to life. For weeks he had been told to bring it to life, to fix it, but he didn't know why. He never asked why, when they asked for something, he simply did it. That's how it has been since they found him when he was lost during those dark days when the sky was set on fire. His benefactors were starting to get upset with him because he still hadn't finished the project, and they're patience was not to be tested for too long. The pile of parts he was digging through was turning out to be just as barren as the other ones he had searched through. For 3 days now he had been scouring for the final part, canvasing much of this scrap yard and the other just a few miles away, and both had turned up nothing. "Damn it! Nothing! I can't keep them waiting! They are going to have my head for sure if I keep them waiting!" Hamish muttered out loud, standing up from the pile. Behind his goggles, his eyes looked across the yard, trying to find some part that he may have overlooked and hadn't searched. You will finish this for us, or you will suffer. Hamish stiffened and nodded his head, "Of course, I won't fail you." He told them. He set off for the eastern side of the heap. That side was frequented by scavengers, perhaps they may have what he needed.

Ratchet crouched low over the pile of junk, shifting through with a calculated look. His gloved hands handled everything he picked up with care, and some he started to crack open with the small multi-tool he kept in his pocket. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, just something that might be valuable to sell. Never was that american idiom more true. One man's trash is another's treasure and in this world, almost everything had become trash. He pulled up a busted computer casing and proceeded to crack it open and see if any circuit boards remained. Luck was with him today. This one had almost all of the circuitry inside. A quick glance showed that most if not all was useless and broken, but that isn't the only thing that is of value. Gold, platinum and brass all are used and can be sold for a premium. Pocketing the much smaller boards in his overcoat for later use, he continued to pick through the pile.

Hamish weaved through the piles of scrap, all of which he had looked through before. Every step closer to the east side made him twitch just a little bit more. He hated having to depend on other people to help him complete his projects. They never understood him, never understood why the benefactors had to be pleased. It tired him to try to explain it to them, much easier just to kill them and take what he needed, but the benefactors didn't like it when he killed unless they commanded him to. He turned passed another scrap heap and came up to a man rustling through a pile. He let out a little yelp at the sight of him. He hadn't expected to see another person this far into the heaps just yet.

Ratchet didn't jump at the arrival of the newcomer, he couldn't afford to be taken by surprise in this world. Instead he simply looked up at the newcomer, his facial features obscured by the combination of his goggles and bandanna. "What do you want." he said, slight venom coating his words and matching his unseen glare. He stood as he spoke, his right hand resting on his holster, ready to draw the colt at a moments notice. Finally able to get a good look at the man in front of him, he saw a similar gear setup to most. Full body coverage in a kind of trenchcoat along with gloves and goggles. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and he carried no visible weapons, but that didn't mean anything. He could have allies hidden away to try and jump victims. No, he wasn't taking any chances.

Hamish didn't know how to reply at first. He so rarely talked to other people. The man was covered from head to toe with even his face hidden. Don't trust him, he may be dangerous,, one of the benefactors said, causing another to say, he has what we need, kill him and take it! They started arguing over what should be done with the man before then, and they were making Hamish's head throbe. He tried hard not to show weakness, but his hands were shaking hard enough to notice, and his eyes were twitching. He hated when the benefactors fought because it made it so hard to make decisions. He didn't need ti kill this man yet as he was not an obstacle in the project, and he may have what he needed. While the benefactors argued, he took this small matter into his own hands. They would yell at him for it, but, if it got him what he needed, they would be happy. "I don't want trouble. I was just looking for something." Hamish told the man. His Scottish accent made some of the words run together, but his body language would hopefully make up for it. He kept his hands in clear view and slightly away from his body, and he kept eye contact despite the goggles. "Maybe yoy can help me?" He asked, knowing he may be pushing his luck.

Ratchet looked at the man, and saw the nerves clear as day. He was under pressure, obviously, but whether it was from encountering someone or fear of his plan going wrong was not. Still it was better to try and help than to immediately reject his offer. Screwed up as the world may be, people still ran on some semblance of trust and who knows. Maybe he could get a deal out of this. "Fine. What exactly do you need." The venom in his voice was less, though still present, as Ratchet was not taking any chances.

What are you doing!? Don't talk to him, just take it!, the benefactor yelled, but Hamish chose to ignore him. They acted too rashly sometimes. The man would die when he became an obstacle, but, until then, he would live. "Thank you. I've been working on a....project for some time now. I have nearly completed it, but I need a working CPU to finish it. You seem like someone who has frequented these scrap heaps, maybe you've seen one or have one you'd be willing to trade for." He explained to the stranger.

A CPU? That makes sense. Ratchet knew circuitry exceptionally well, almost like the back of his hand. Those are very critical to many machinations and creations, even in today's world, and yet are almost impossible to build more of. The one he had just salvaged was destroyed beyond repair, at least without a mircrofabricator, but he had collected his fair share throughout the year. "I may have what you need at my shop. What exactly is it you need."

"Thanks. that would be....ah!" Hamish began to say before something very loud exploded across his head. You fool! He will kill you, do not trust him, do not! He only wants you alone. Finish the project! Finish it! Do it yourself, or can you!? How useless can you be, calling on help! You are so weak, so pitiful, nothing but a failure! They wouldn't stop yelling at him, crowed his head with so much noise. He crouched down, covering his ears with his hands. His body was shaking violently, and a cold sweat started to break out. He just wanted....them.......to........"SHUT UP!!!" He screamed out.

When the stranger started to shake and scream, Ratchet didn't even hesitate to draw his colt. With a single fluid motion, he pushed it out of his drop holster, cocking the pistol on the way out. Everything settled into place as he looked down the sight at this manic in front of him. He knew who he was now. All the scavengers in the area did. "Don't move. I. Will. Shoot." His voice was calm and calculated, his brow furrowed visibly above his goggles.

The threat of danger was all it took. Suddenly his mind became very clear, like a rippling pool finally stilling. This is who you are. Now, get the job done. In this state of mind, everything became a viable option for him. He still didn't feel the need to kill this man. After all, he had mentioned a shop that may have what he needed. Him being alive would make it a lot easier for him to find that place. He was so tired of roaming the waste for that damn CPU. Now it was time for action. Swiftly, he pulled a pellet out from the side of his boot and smashed it onto the group, triggering an explosion that filled the area with smoke. Hamish dashed off to the side, trying to get further away from the man.

As smoke started to fill the area, numerous alarms went off in Ratchet's head. His trigger finger reacted long before his mind processed exactly what needed to be done. In quick succession, he fired off three rounds into the smoke, the sound of the first barely dissipating before the next. Not hearing any shouts of pain, he paused. His eyes slowly darted around the pile looking for the vanished madman. He needed to conserve his 5 remaining shots. Ammunition isn't as widespread as it used to be.

Hamish heard the shots being fired, but he felt none of them hit him. He hated getting shot. It took forever to finally recover from it. Those smoke pellets had been something he had made for emergencies like that. He pulled back a bit further, trying to put enough distance between him and the man in order to successful negotiate this out. He turned a wheel on his goggles, sending the signal for his secret weapon to start making its way over here. It would take it a bit to get over here from his lab, though. From his hidden holsters in his sleeves, he pulled out two long knives. Time to talk about getting that CPU

Ratchet didn't see anything immediately leap out at him, though he felt slightly safer. No need to worry about ambushing friends, all rumors have said that he was a loner and meeting the man for himself, he'd believe them. Still looking around cautiously for the other man, he bent down and drew a hunting knife from his boot. He slowly started to back up towards his walker, which was just outside of the heaps almost one hundred and fifty meters away.

Hamish began circling back around the heap. He knew these scrap heaps extremely well, and he also knew that, outside of this place, he had a reputation. Sure, he may have been the madman that stalked this place looking for parts, killing for them, if he needed to. To Hamish, that really didn't matter. He needed to survive, and that was the easiest way to survive. That man would have known about him after his little.....outbreak. He would be trying to run. They always do when they finally realize. He stalked through the piles of scrap, taking into account the many different parts that he saw. He glanced around one of the large piles and caught a quick glimpse of the man. He pulled back quickly and started to climb the pile that he was hiding behind. He had to be very careful not to jostle any lose parts, and he also had to move quickly enough so that the man didn't get too far away. He peered over the top and, seeing the man still in his vision, readied another smoke bomb. Aiming just near the man, he through, hard, before leaping with his knives in his hands. The bomb went off, leaving Hamish flying into a cloud of smoke. Ah, this never got old.

Ratchet saw a flash of movement of to his left just before his vision grayed with the smoke. Hacking and coughing, he dropped himself to the ground and lashed out with his left hand, hunting blade in a reverse-grip. Not waiting to feel if it hit anything, he kicked himself along the ground toward a small alcove that, if memory served correctly, was just in the area. Stifling another cough, Ratchet was thankful that his scaring caused him to wear a bandanna. Old Chicago wasn't a danger zone, so he hadn't bothered with the bulky filter masks that were required in others.

Hamish landed on the ground with a thud. The smoke irritated his eyes and throat, but, after several months of using this technique, he had grown a small tolerance to it. He knew that it wouldn't last very long though, so he had to find that man. The smoke did an excellent job of blocking what little light that the cloudy sky gave off, helping his eyes tremendously. He could make out the silhouette of the man, so he moved quickly, trying to close the distance between them. He couldn't let him get the opportunity to fire his gun again. Judging by the direction he was going, he must have been going to the alcove formed by one of the larger scrape piles. That meant that this man was a frequenter of this heap, making him even more valuable to Hamish. He closed in on him, zigzagging his way to him. That and the smoke would make him a decently hard target to hit.

Slipping into the alcove, Ratchet sheathed his blade back in the boot. The alcove was not the largest and would, in fact, interfere with most people's movement. And this was exactly what he was hoping for. There was not enough time for him to get to his walker, and instead needed to confront his pursuer albeit on his own terms. He rose to one knee, using his prone leg to stabilize himself on the junk pile. Taking his now free left hand, he braced his right, making the pistol as steady as possible. His index finger twitched ever so slightly, waiting for the signal to fire.

Hamish moved swiftly, but carefully. The last thing he wanted was to let this guy get away, but taking a bullet to the skull didn't sound very pleasant either. Using the smoke as cover, he slinked around, knowing where the man was hiding. Hamish had used that alcove several times for his own ambushes, so he was familiar with its makeup. Home field advantage was a marvelous thing. However, a little ping in his head startled him for a brief second, but it soon turned to an exciting grin. It would seem that his backup had finally arrived, and just in time to. Through the smokey haze, Hamish could perfectly make out his construct. Goliath was still pretty basic, but Hamish inproved him every day, and Hamish's work with allerium had given him the edge he needed to oust the other heap dwellers so he could claim this place. Sheathing his blades, he went to stand beside Goliath and yelled out, "Excuse me, sir, but, if you do not come out of that little hole, my friend here will shove that pile of scrap on top of you. You wouldn't want to be buried alive now, would you? I have no intention of killing you. You are much more useful alive" In response to Hamish's words, Goliath lightly hit the scrap pile, causing it to rattled a little bit.

"fuck" Ratchet spat out the word, more at his own lack insight than at the circumstance he was in. He knew that his assailant worked alone, Hell, everyone knew that, but that was just people who avoided him. Constructs and automatons, simple as they may be, still pose a very real threat. Muttering a few more choice insults, Ratchet lowered his pistol to his side and removed his finger from the trigger before stepping out of the alcove to face his opponent and the new 'addition' to the fray.

"Wise decision, friend. Goliath here has a habit of not playing nice. Now, can we talk like gentlemen? I did not lie when I said that I needed a working CPU." Hamish explained, leaning against Goliath. The construct primarily operated through allerium. He had It had taken Hamish years to build him, starting when he was only 15, and the magical material had rode him hard, but the payoff was worth it. In Goliath, he had developed a form consciousness that connected the automaton to his maker, giving him limited intelligence and some interesting magical abilities. It wasn't completely finished and wouldn't be until Hamish obtained more experience with working with allerium. His main weapons was the large blades on his arms. Those backed up by his allerium-fueled abilities made him deadly. Hamish hoped that he didn't need to tap into Goliath's allerium powers as that secret was his greatest advantage. His presence should be enough to ensure a good negotiation.

Ratchet let out a small laugh as he stared at the behemoth, this Goliath, that towered over the other man. "Well, you have such a convincing argument, I really couldn't refuse." Shifting his gaze back to the man, he continued. "And i did not lie when I said I might have what you need. Give me specifics, first."

"See? Isn't this much easier then holding me at gunpoint?" Hamish asked, laughing at his own internal joke of the situation. I guess, if you wanted to get technical, Hamish held the gun now. "As for specifics, I need to get a computer working again, and all I am missing is a CPU."

Ratchet tilted his head as he thought back to what exactly he had in his stores. "A computer...... Hmmm. I believe I have a few that should work with that, though compatibility may be an issue."

"It is an old system dating back to around 2011. Most of the internals were still intact, luckily. I just needed to salvage a few things and repair some of the circuitry. I have done all of that, and now I just need a damn CPU. I have nothing to trade for it, but I will offer my services for a single task in exchange." Hamish explained, doing his best to ignore some of the benefactors. They didn't like him revealing so much, but Hamish was determined to not have another episode.