I follow Sid Pruitt through the seemingly endless collection of alleyways that make up most of New Bunker. His goons walking so closely behind me I can nearly feel their breath on my neck. It’s like they’re daring me. Make a move junky. We’ll snap your fucking neck the second we think something’s not right. Acting the right amount of nervous is easy, I’m shitting my pants. Just no sudden movements and they’ll have no excuse to give in to whatever drug enhanced violent impulses they must be suppressing.
Most of you probably have no idea why the city is laid out the way it is. The walls that surround the city are still intact since they’re made to pre-Collapse military standard. In fact, the entire city is encompassed by three sets of wall, the outer wall being thickest but shortest, the inner wall being slightly thinner but higher. This allows for 2 of the 3 walls to be breached without actually making it into the city. The height of each wall lets snipers and lookouts survey all the areas of not only their own area, but of each smaller wall as well. Towers built into these walls have been converted into the homes of the so-called “wealthy” of New Bunker. Reinforced strongholds that serve to house the elite. Conroy’s inner circle. The richest pimps, mobsters and hustlers who had managed to beat the odds of New Bunker and actually spend their days in undue opulance in their fortified, unbreakable towers.
I digress, what this all means is simple: these walls aren’t going anywhere. The city can only expand inwards, into itself. Conroy and his people have a lot of tricks up their sleeves, but the ability to build anything resembling the sky-scrapers of old is not one of them. Instead small buildings, shanties, huts, lean-tos and shacks spring up in any street or open area. There are no cars in New Bunker and beside the fact that fuel and electricity are heavily rationed, there isn’t a street wide enough to accommodate one. So the city digests itself. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…
