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Surviving a Wasteland full of Telamon's Stupid Knights

Chapter Text

The realm of Robloxia had plunged into a civil war. All across the expansive country, sectors began to lift a hand against the extreme leader, Telamon, in an attempt to free themselves from his cruel ruling. First Hlaseno, the factory and education sector, followed closely behind by Klubovna, the realm's army.Then there was Stvoreni, who oversaw the production of all food, and Zabava, who fixed technology and created inventions. But what first started off as minor skirmishes soon tumbled headfirst into an all-out war as the Sectors banded together in an attempt to overthrow Telamon.

Alas, it was not to be, for one by one, the sectors were crushed into oblivion. Only Zabava prevailed, but their time was running out. Cut off from Stvoreni, who had supplied them with resources, and Hlaseno, who had the physical power, Zabava was slowly being forced into a corner. Its sub-sectors were already on the fence, drained of their resources and will to fight. VGC had been bombed beyond repair, and Telamon's Knights had recently raided R-S - a majority of Zabava's fighting force - with Automatons. VCwR was the weakest of the bunch, a city whose only use was its technological advances. Meanwhile PC was the civilian city, full of innocent lives with no formal training. RPF alone (Okay, so they had some stragglers, escapees from the other subsectors) stood between freedom and slavery. And while the sub-sector generated the most posts each term, they lacked the strength to keep the fight going for months at a time.

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Slack dove to the ground, a slew of curses flying from his mouth as he tumbled into the rocky ground. Biting back an expletive as a sharp stone impaled the soft flesh of his right hand, he lifted his arms to shield his head against the oncoming barrage of lasers. Each moment the Cowboy dawdled was a moment lost against the Knights - the King's personal army - who were drawing ever closer.

Shielded behind a rather flimsy structure, the Scout was determined to wait out the attack. There wasn't much a singular soldier could do - what use was a revolver against tanks? He was regretting his decision to split the squadron up, sending their only medic, Purring, back to Annekitieren to assist with the latest damages. Knight attacks were popping up every few hours, and the demand for a doctor was high. Not only that, but he had sent their best fighters - JeopardizedJake, Benzo, and Danonymous - to accompany her. Losing their medic in this game of cat and mouse would most certainly doom Slack's little squadron. No one paid much attention to those on the outlying war front. If Purring was lost, there wouldn't be a replacement.

The volley stopped after what seemed to be hours; only then did Slacktivist pick himself up from the stony floor and peek around the large, crescent-shaped structure he had been using as protection. Fiddling with the controls on his helmet, he slid the visor down over his hazel eyes. An instant later, a variety of options shimmered into existence, courtesy of the high-tech optic viewer. Bypassing the bodily scan (Obviously, he was bleeding profusely from the puncture wound within his left hand) and the map features, the male opened up the telescope feature. Nearly stumbling as the world was lit up in clear, crisp detail, Slack scanned the horizon for an approaching vehicles. Nothing. "Where are they?" He murmured quietly. The landscape was silent, though the Knights were supposed to be approaching, and they should have been visible to him by now... Where were they? And with his communicator uttering less than helpful tips, he had no way of contacting those stationed at Annektieren.

Even now, Slack could hear the machine buzzing, offering up a garbled "-point.. sp.. Scouts.... ge." over and over again. Which wasn't much of a help.

With a sigh, Slack shut the system down. He would have LNG look over the comm later - as the resident mechanic of the group, he should be able to figure out if there was a problem. More likely than not, his squad was just out of range. The primitive technology that the Cowboys utilized was a mere echo of the Knight's more sophisticated machinery. Their weapons broke frequently, their machines were faulty. Errors were common, and it was a surprise that the Cowboys lasted against Telamon's army of Knights for as long as they had.

But the RPF Cowboys had prevailed against all odds. Losses were common, and death could happen at a moment's notice, but those in the rebellion had heart. No longer would they suffer the rule of Telamon's iron fist! Robloxia would be free again! Or at least, that was the propaganda spouted in PC, the civilian city. Nothing could be further from the truth, as the Cowboy's, freedom's only hope, were dying en masse.

Shifting his revolver into his uninjured hand, the Cowboy searched his pocket for extra cartridges. He never packed heavy - couldn't afford to if he wanted to remain light-footed - but the fact that he only had two steam capsules to power his laser was somewhat shameful. The captain didn't remember using up the other eight. Working as quickly as he could, as dawn was quickly approaching, Slack slid the small cylindric object out of his revolver, before replacing it with a fresh, fully-charged steamer, tinted neon green. Tucking the mint capsule back into his pack, Slack got ready to go.

"Running across a war zone? No big deal." He rasped rather dryly. "Not like my leather helmet with stop a fully charged laser anyways."