Actually I meant the one on your deviantart. I recognized your avvie, i'm assuming you're the same person. C:
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That was a good chapter. Poor Mola. He's kind of funny. I almost don't even have to say to continue but I will anyway. Continue!
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Thanks, i'm really glad people like my fic so far.
Btw, I skipped the part on them traveling to New Yolk City. Nothing really happened during that time, and it wasted space.
And I made this chapter short because my next chapter will be really, really long.
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Bang! Bang! Bang!
Charlotte opened her eyes and glanced out the window. It was early morning; there was hardly any light outside, and the lights were off in every building all around.
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!
The frantic slamming on her door persisted. She groaned, got to her feet, and staggered to the door. She opened it.
"Come on, we have to go!" Mola said, bobbing up and down. He was wearing a new pair of swimming trunks, his same domed-straw hat, had a satchel over one arm.
Charlotte closed the door.
She cleaned her face with a bucket of water on her nightstand and began packing her things, her eyes distant and slightly crossed. Her exhausted brain processed a thought, and she opened the door again.
"What the hell are you doing here? Its like six in the morning," she yawned. Mola grinned.
"We need to go! We have no time to waste!" He said urgently.
"Have you woken Stranger up yet?" She asked.
"I tried," Mola sighed, "but he threw his boots at me."
"I'm going back to bed." She said, closing the door again. Mola tried to protest but gave up and sat at her doorstep, watching as the sun slowly rose. He closed his eyes and sighed, mentally preparing himself for the trip.
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It had only taken a few hours to get to New Yolk. They ran into a few outlaws along the way, but they were pushovers; Mola was the only person who had seemed uneasy when they had attacked. Despite their uneventful journey they were all relieved when they had finally arrived.
"Here we are," Stranger said as they left the port athority. It was late, and clakkers usually weren't out; it would be safe for Stranger to be in town for the moment.
"New Yolk." Mola said exitedly. "I always wanted to see it. I heard its really big."
"Its as big as any clakker town." Stranger shrugged. "Jus' twice as many clakkers."
"We should have no problem then," Charlotte smiled; but the glow quickly left her face as they entered the town.
The place was crawling with clakkers, outlaws, and wolvarks alike, and none of them seemed to notice the trio.
"This is New Yolk?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not anymore..." Stranger muttered. Groups of outlaws and wolvarks were huddled around a fire lit in a trashcan, discussing hunting tactics. Posh clakkers sat in front of the bounty store, wielding rifles and polishing gore-splattered beartraps. But there was something else there that sent a shiver down their spines; it was the fact that on every billboard, every electricity pole and in every window, there was a steef head wanted poster.
Charlotte caught on. She backed up, her spine ridgid. "We have to get out of here..." she whispered, terror in her voice. If any of them looked their way, they would both be dead. She turned swiftly on her heel and began stalking away, trying to act casual, when unexpectantly a short clakker jumped in front of her.
"Howdy!" He squeaked, causing Charlotte to jump. "You here for 'the Hunt?'"
"'The Hunt?'" She echoed. The clakker nodded vigorously.
"The steef hunt! There's been loads of sightings around here. Rumor has it that it could be the last steef in the Mongo reigon!"
The clakker failed to notice the terror flooding Charlotte's face. Stranger grabbed her wrist and tugged it.
"Lets go." He said quickly, tightening his grip. She followed him back to the port athority without saying a word, her eyes cloudy and disoriented. She blinked furiously, struggling to form words, when suddently she snapped.
"How could they do that?" She cried. "Its disgusting! That poor steef, does it even know its being hunted? There were so many of them, it won't stand a chance!"
"You used to be an outlaw, you should be used to killing people." Stranger growled, though it was obvious that he was just as upset as she was.
"But this is differant!" She sniffled.
"Hey guys!" Mola piped up, standing on his tip-toes to get their attention. "If we find the steef first there won't be any problems."
"But what chance will we have?" Stranger asked, rubbing his eyes. Charlotte fell silent.
"Not a good one," Mola muttered. "But what choice do we have?
---
Boe Badagger had a reputation in the Mongo reigon for being an expert steef poacher; if anyone had a chance at killing that steef, he did, at least thats what he thought. He sat by one of the trashcan fires in the middle of town, waiting for an update from one of his crew. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, a white shirt with two strips of machine-gun ammo crisscrossing his chest, and torn shorts.
"What is it?" The tall wolvark growled as he took a deep breath from one of his cigars. One of the outlaws in his gang spoke quickly.
"There's been another sighting down by the water a few minutes ago," he informed, looking to make sure nobody was listening in. "Its a big one, looks dangerous, man."
Boe sighed and tapped his cigar, causing ash to fall. "No problem," he grinned, pulling a long metal coil from his back pocket. It was thickly woven, and had a loop at one end- every steef hunter had one. It was a cruel device used for containing and strangling dangerous male steef. "Its nothing we can't handle. Get the rest of the gang, we got a steef ta hunt!"