[Visible to All][Posting from the Junk Pile]

[mccrane]

This is McCrane.

[He is aware that there is some way in which to lock this to only his fellow Brave Police Officers, but he's not familiar enough with the settings yet to do this, so everyone can see it.]

One of the large inhabitants has informed me that we can take up residence with him.

Should we accept this offer?

I have yet to find any gasoline...

[As if now realizing that this might actually be useful if there are a number of viewers, he pauses, and changes tactics.]

Has anyone found anything that looks like this? [He holds up his one, single can of gasoline, hoping that the camera on his communicator can catch it.] It might become necessary.

[Considering they'll. Die. If they don't find a supply of it.]

Comments

[rotafortunae]

[He almost feels like being coy about it, but this is hardly a card to hide...]

Trion, he calls himself, Alpha Trion. I think we'll get along...

[mccrane]

And he has been very accepting? And the accommodations have been nice?

[It is sounding good, so far. Better than staying here, gasoline or no.]

I'm glad to see you are safe. [He'd worried.]

[rotafortunae]

Well, they're a little large for my tastes, but other than that, I'd even say it's a little nicer than the world I came from.

... worried about me? Really? I'm almost flattered.

[mccrane]

[He hadn't thought about that, actually. This world would be scaled to its inhabitants, wouldn't it? The rooms wouldn't likely be too smallfor him, at least.]

I'd be more interested in leaving the junk pile, if I knew I could eat.

[He tilts his head.]

Of course I was worried. You were on your own, and you disappeared so suddenly. I couldn't find a trace of you.

[rotafortunae]

You require gasoline, yes? [he's been stalking the network like crazy] Still reliant on the old fossil fuels...? I hope, for your sake, that something's come through the Rift. Or that perhaps someone could retrofit you to process the native cuisine...

And as for that, I'm just a sneaky fellow, that's all. Years of practice.

[mccrane]

Gasoline, yes! [It's nice to not have to explain, though having yet another someone who seems to think fossil fuels outdated makes him feel like last decade's model.] With everything else that has arrived, the probability of finding it in the Junk Pile is good.

However...

[It's the junk pile. He glances at it, because. It's huge.]

Have you been finding something you can eat?

[He's still curious about 'sneaky,' but he can come back to that.]

[rotafortunae]

[Okay Aunt McCrane, you got him there. He sighs.]

There's some plants around Alpha Trion's sector, but there's only so long one can survive on leafy greens and tomatoes. I've been composing a list of common staples for Trion to see if we can get more food here, but it's slow going. Let me tell you, I might be moved to murder if it meant I could find a roast chicken, perhaps with some mashed potatoes... or even a loaf of bread!

I'll survive for now, but I do wonder about the children here. They're a bit more fragile, and growing, they'll need something a bit hardier than this sparse fare to get by...

[mccrane]

If I see any organic creatures at all, I will be sure to let you know. [He can understand the need for a varied diet, even if his is only varied between 'gasoline' and 'diesel' and only when he has to drink gasoline.] It isn't impossible that there might be a chicken out there.

Somewhere.

Can you describe what one would look like?

[As far as he's seen, they seem to be drum-shaped objects with crusty shells and a bone sticking out the end.] This world does not seem any more hospitable to humans than it does to the Brave Police. [Now he's worried about the children.] Was it like this where you came from? [The strange worlds with buildings on?]

[rotafortunae]

Well, yes. Hence why I traveled so much. Few resources, there, a land where nothing grew.

But I don't have the option of traveling from here, it seems.

Anyway, as for chicken...

[Video now. He sketches a rough doodle of a chicken]

They're birds, but rather fat, and they don't fly. We have to kill them, then skin them, gut them, clean them, and then cook them.