backyardbbq | sample for box

Today was not Shiro's day.

To start off with, he was injured. It was nothing serious, thankfully, but the pain was an annoyance and he had to be careful to keep his cuts from opening and bleeding all over him. This was a serious concern, because some asshole had decided to take all of his things, which included his medical supplies. If he dirtied these bandages before he found more, he wouldn't be able to change them.

Of course, none of that compared to the headache of getting knocked out and dropped in the middle of God-knows-where. It certainly wasn't anywhere on that mountain, there wasn't enough snow or steep slopes. This brought him to problem number three: someone had stolen the sword. Other things were gone too, but those were incidental compared to the sword. He had fought his way through a temple of monks for that thing, and he wasn't about to let someone just take it and run away. He was pissed, and he was going to find that sword.

In his one stroke of luck for the day, Shiro had ended up at some kind of train stop. Sure, it was in the middle of a forest, with only one other building around, but train tracks meant that a town couldn't be far away. All he had to do was follow the train tracks, and eventually he would find someone.

So he hopped down from the station and started walking along the tracks, heading East. It took well over an hour of walking to get anywhere, but eventually he did reach a small, abandoned-looking town. The key word there being 'abandoned-looking.' Frowning, Shiro kept walking, trying to find at least one person in this run-down hellhole. He was only at the outskirts of the town, after all. Maybe more people were further in.

Threaded | Flat

It wasn't going to be long before Shiro found other people. Civilization? That was a stretch if ever there was one. A town? North and South were barely that. But people, those were present in the Box, even if none of them were in a very good situation for it.

A situation that Shiro himself was now very much a part of.

"Fuckin' piece of shit!"

And that sure was someone swearing near by.

The tracks do eventually lead out to a fairly wide, if not somewhat rundown looking street, all of faded pavement and long, weed-filled cracks. An old, slightly rusty covered truck was stalled, and some teenager in baggy clothes was kicking the front of it angrily. Which, of course, wasn't doing anything to get it started again.

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