WHO:Mercy Thompson and Daryl Dixon WHERE: Hiss Station WHEN: Mid-day on August 30 WHAT: Cars! Here's something Mercy knows! WARNINGS: Probably some language STATUS: Complete
Creepy hotels? Not exactly Mercy's cup of tea. She hadn't gotten a chance to search for a place outside of the creepy hotel, and she hadn't had much of a chance to even find a job. Apparently, there weren't cars.
Except for when one showed up randomly, followed by a random transmission at six am that had knocked Mercy right out of her bed, cursing loud enough that she barely caught the end. And what she'd caught had been deeply chilling.
So something familiar was awesome.
She'd hauled herself out of the hotel and spent the morning searching the town over for this car. The map was about as clear to Mercy as mud, and she was more than a little relieved to finally find the place.
Then again, the blue rusted heap by the side of the gas station wasn't really the kind of thing that you called a car so much as scrap metal that just happened to look like a car. She wrinkled her nose as she caught an animal sort of scent. Yeah, that car wasn't going anywhere without a hell of a lot of work, just from the looks of it.
Mercy popped the hood on the car, leaning over the engine. Which would have worked a lot better if a puff of dust didn't catch her in the face. This sent her spinning away from the engine in a coughing fit, which in turn sent her barrelling into someone's chest. Wow, not her best day.