Maedoc didn't have much in his possession. He'd been traveling light in order to take the caravan. He hadn't exactly had time to go back to his stash. He'd been busy bleeding.

His saving grace was the thin layer of armor under his jacket. It hadn't been enough to stop the bullet, but it had kept him alive. It wasn't even the wound that had taken him down, it was the fact that he'd kept moving. The bullet hadn't been made for an armored target, so he'd had enough life in him to slip away, having been left for dead.

After that, it had only been dumb luck that the military jeep had contained a small medkit he'd used to plug the bleeding hole in his side. After that, if he'd simply found a place to lie down, he'd probably have been OK, but no... he'd kept moving. He'd been afraid that they'd realize he was alive. He'd been afraid they'd find him.

And so, when he woke up... he probably shouldn't have been surprised that he had no idea where he was. Hell, the only thing that should have surprised him was that he actually was alive to wake up.

He'd have shot up if he wasn't in so much pain. Instead, after calming himself down, he chose to lay there quietly and take stock of things. He still had his duster on, so that was a plus. It seemed whoever had moved him hadn't removed his clothes. He slid his hands into his pockets next, to make sure everything was still there.

It wasn't.

Fuck.

His hatchet was gone, not that it worked. His energy pistol was gone... not that that was working either. And the chip. The chip, that he'd nearly died over, was gone. He'd managed to put it in a locked case, but that case was missing. The case had been well hidden in an inner pocket too. Which meant he wasn't surprised that his other hidden pocket had been relieved of the wallet within. There hadn't been much left, probably only enough money to feed him for another day, but wandering around injured with no money or weapons whatsoever didn't appeal to him.

He pulled his leg in slowly and found that they at least hadn't found his boot knife. He'd at least concealed that well enough. It was a stun knife, with a battery that could unleash a nasty shock. He probably relied on technology too much considering how often it didn't work, but the knife was at least more simple. And if the battery died, well, it was still a knife.

He left it where it was. Robbed he may have been, but he had also been sheltered. He'd give this person the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they hadn't intended to steal from him, but just disarm him? Maybe relieving him of his possessions had just been their idea of being thorough. Regardless of how or why he'd lost his things, he was in no condition to fight.

Whoever had found him, they weren't well off by any means. If this was their home, it made [i]his[/i] hole in the ground look nice. Well, it was time to meet them, whoever they were.

"He-" He coughed, his throat dry. "H-hey! Hello?" He pushed himself to a sitting position. "Uh, thanks for helping me?"