The Destructive Force
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“I see,” he nods to her, giving a shrug, “Well, I’m sure it won’t be too much of a problem!” He puts his hands behind his head then, “They’re probably really nice’ta strangers! Y’know, every man’s a brother.”
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He chuckles a bit as he follows her, walking calmly, “No, not nearly as loud, but still loud,” he sighs a bit, putting his hands into his leather jacket, “Still we need permission from the locals here before we barge on in anymore. … And it’s a motorcycle.”
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“Well, it’s an FPS Kostum,” He tells her, placing a hand on the leather seating, “My friend jus’ upgraded it for offroading and a few other perks.” He looks back to her, “The transport is jus’ a big armored truck. We needed a less scenic route to keep things on the down low, heh. How far away is the village by the way?”
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He looks down to Greenleaf tapping his bike, “It’s called a motorcycle,” He sighs lightly, “And well, I dun’ think we’ve got time to worry about our transport.. By the way, why’re ya headin’ South?”
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Dipstick responds by pulling it back from her reach, “Nope,” He chuckles a bit, putting it back into his ear, “Look, but dun’ touch. I kinda need this.. Anywho, who are these natives ya speak of? They friendly, or hostile?”
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“Yeah, friends in high places, heh,” He sees her come closer with curiosity, “You don’t get out much, huh?” He steps toward her calmly with the earpiece in hand to show her, but not to touch.
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“Whoa, whoa, hey!” He holds up both hands lightly with a surprised look, “Relax!” He then takes out his earpiece, “It’s jus’ a radio earpiece. I talk to my friends with this.”
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Within seconds, he gets a reply, “Natives ya say?” A country voice replies through the earpiece, “Yeh, sure. Go see if ya can get ’em’ta not attack our transport, son.”
Dipstick chuckles a bit, “A’ighty, bro,” he shakes his head a moment and looks over to Greenleaf, “Where’s the natives?”
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“Natives, huh?” He clears his throat, pulling a hand up to his earpiece and tapping it, “Orange, do ya read? I’ve jus’ been informed that there are natives within the vicinity of my checkpoint. Permission to confirm?”
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He spots the box and stares at Greenleaf, “Why is this place sacred ground?” He asks skeptically, “Who are you?”
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“I’m here on mission,” he sighs lightly, “Jus’ routine checkpoint for a package. What are you doin’ here?” He raises an eyebrow to him.
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After a moment, he puts his pistol back, and smiles lightly, “Now, come out,” he gestures for her to come closer.
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“You mean a Latin American one,” He chuckles lightly, “You put your bow down.. and let’s talk.”
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In a flash, Dipstick quickly pulls out his “Punisher” and aims toward the push, making out the face in the bush. “Well, maybe you should put down the bow first, and then we’ll talk..” he lightly frowns, “or we can Mexican Stand-off all day.”
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The biker, named Dipstick, heard the rather loud sigh and looks over to where Greenleaf leaped down, not noticing her staring at him through the bush. “… Hello?” he calls out, “Who’s there?”