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[COLOR=red][indent][sub][I]On the Road Again in Texas[/I] - [I]Present Day[/I][/sub][sup][right]Issue 1.01.02: Stagecoach[/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][B]Interaction(s):[/B] [I]None[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][b]Previously:[/b] [I]Issue 1.01.01: [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5153963]Taste of Violence[/url][/I][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color]

The van continued to speed down the lonely highway, fields flanking the left and right of the two outlaws. Jason was behind the wheel, his foot pressed firm on the gas. The only people who lived out in these parts were farm workers, and none of them cared much about some shitty van careening down the road. Of course, those farm workers were certainly a ways off the road. Especially as the sun was lowering down over the horizon. The two men in the van remained almost deadly silent, until a strange noise could be heard from the engine. It was a slight rattling, and as Jason looked at the dash, the string of swears he listed were rather crude and specific. All the while, he pulled the steadily drifting van over to the side of the road as it began its natural slowdown to a complete stop. Jason seemed to calm down for a moment as he sat there with his eyes closed and his hands firmly grasping the steering wheel.

[color=red]"Fuck."[/color]

Roy raised his eyebrows, his amused and cocky grin evident by his smug tone that began boiling a rage inside of Jason's chest. [color=red]"What?"[/color]

Jason grunted out through gritted teeth, [color=red]"We're out of gas."[/color]

Roy gave a slow nod, his hands rising to begin a very painstakingly drawn out clap. [color=orange]"Good job, Jason. I told you-"[/color]

[Color=red]"Don't you fucking-"[/color]

[indent][color=orange]"I told you that-"[/color][/indent]
[indent][indent][color=red]"Roy, I suggest you shut the f-"[/color][/indent][/indent]
[indent][indent][indent][color=orange]"You remember like 20 miles ago when we passed-"[/color][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[center][h3][color=red]"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"[/color][/h3][/center]

Jason practically ripped open the door of the van as he fumbled to quickly get out of his seat belt in his frenzy of rage. He slammed the van door shut, it not properly shutting as he heard the frustrating sound of the seat belt getting caught in the way. So, Jason did the logical and polite thing: he opened the driver's side door again, flicked the seat belt back into the interior of the car, and then continued to slam and bash the van door open and closed as he screamed an incoherent and soul-wrenching wail. After an uncomfortably long time spent indulging his anger, Jason finally stopped himself mid slam to gently close the door and walk around to the back of the van, where Roy was sitting in the open bay doors with a sport's drink in hand and a cooler. Roy lifted the drink from his lips and motioned it towards Jason, who quietly nodded. The red-haired outlaw wordlessly opened up the cooler and handed his friend a drink, and the two sat there quietly for a minute. Unsurprisingly, Roy was the first to break the silence.

[color=orange]"So do you want to talk about-"[/color]

[color=red]"Nope."[/color]

Roy nodded for a moment up and down, making a clicking noise with his tongue. [color=orange]"Didn't think so."[/color]

After an awkward moment of silence, Jason sighed. [color=red]"My last mission went sideways. Some dude in a red mask beat me into a coma... last thing I remember him saying was something about... Vertigo."[/color]

Roy tilts his head for a moment, raising an eyebrow. [color=orange]"Vertigo... You afraid of heights or something?"[/color]

Jason shot an annoyed glare to his partner. [color=red]"I halo jumped to infiltrate Ducal while you sat on your ass covering a mountain pass in the Urals. Do you really think I have vertigo?"[/color]

Roy sighs, shaking his head. [color=orange]"Hey, I'm just checking. I don't know what it means either."[/color]

The two stared out at the rapidly darkening sky. They didn't have much time until they were left on a fairly deserted road in the middle of farm country with no clear sign of traffic passing by. So, Roy finished up his drink and placed the plastic bottle in a small recycling bag mounted on the inside of the van. Roy looked out over his current home: The left wall of the van when looking in from the back had a pull down bed that, while uncomfortable, would allow for two people to sleep there. The ceiling contained a strange metal contraption that acted as a sort of picnic table with benches. The right wall contained metal cabinets that were locked up fairly tight. While a normal eye wouldn't expect them to be super special, Jason was able to identify the metal as heavy armor plating: the kind of stuff you use on a tank, not a van. Hell, the more Jason looked over the van in his few hours being a passenger in it, the "defensive durability" was more clear. The entire van was covered in the same durable plating, and the tires were the same kind of blow-out resistant tires that Team 7 used on their vehicles. This van wasn't just some hippie van that Roy was living out of: it was a compact mobile fortress. Roy packed up the cooler, climbed into the back of the van to talk towards the front cab, and looked back to Jason. [color=orange]"It's cozy, but it's somewhere to stay for the night. We can figure out our plan in the morning."[/color]

[color=red]"Fine. But no spooning."[/color]