Post by Junkrat on Sept 2, 2016 0:10:43 GMT
Life hadn't gotten easier, but it certainly had gotten better.
It never got easier in a situation like this, where survival was dependent on how tough and vicious you were, how willing to fight another person for resources you were, hard enough for grown men, much less a child. But he'd managed, for five years he'd managed. He knew he owed his survival to the rag tag group that had taken him in, they'd been more of a family to him than his father who never came back for him.
He still hadn't been given a proper weapon, but he'd learned to make do with the dart gun Ansell had given him, snake venom went a long way after all. He'd become something of a savant when it came to building and repairing things around the compound, he was usually the one people called when something broke, because he had a knack for finding some outlandish way to fix it, "ought t'work now, mate." He mumbled, pulling back from the makeshift wheelchair he was repairing for one of the more elderly residents of Sam's compound, which had grown in population into a fairly stable settlement, or as stable as a place like this could be, it was certainly one of the less hostile groups, that was for sure.
He looked pleased when the old man seemed able to wheel himself easily now, brushing himself off before waving and turning to leave.
He was antsy, eager to do something. When he found his way back to the house that he shared with Sam and Skitter, he threw the door open, calling out, "Oi! Skitter! Sam!" He would just have to see if either of them had anything they needed done, or anything they might be doing that he could assist with.
It never got easier in a situation like this, where survival was dependent on how tough and vicious you were, how willing to fight another person for resources you were, hard enough for grown men, much less a child. But he'd managed, for five years he'd managed. He knew he owed his survival to the rag tag group that had taken him in, they'd been more of a family to him than his father who never came back for him.
He still hadn't been given a proper weapon, but he'd learned to make do with the dart gun Ansell had given him, snake venom went a long way after all. He'd become something of a savant when it came to building and repairing things around the compound, he was usually the one people called when something broke, because he had a knack for finding some outlandish way to fix it, "ought t'work now, mate." He mumbled, pulling back from the makeshift wheelchair he was repairing for one of the more elderly residents of Sam's compound, which had grown in population into a fairly stable settlement, or as stable as a place like this could be, it was certainly one of the less hostile groups, that was for sure.
He looked pleased when the old man seemed able to wheel himself easily now, brushing himself off before waving and turning to leave.
He was antsy, eager to do something. When he found his way back to the house that he shared with Sam and Skitter, he threw the door open, calling out, "Oi! Skitter! Sam!" He would just have to see if either of them had anything they needed done, or anything they might be doing that he could assist with.
