You Are Banana Fran - GAS IT UP!


You grab your trusty shotgun and all the ammo you have left. You sling the Kubo Blades over your shoulder - with your limited ammo, the katanas may come up big.

The tracks don't lead you far - about 100 feet from the station. They dead end at a dumpster. You figure the large trash bin belongs to the gas station, but its placement is somewhat bizarre, so far from the main building. You investigate further. Inside the dumpster is almost as empty as underneath it. Knocking on it reveals nothing other than a dull echoing 'gong'. You're stumped. It's getting late. The sun is almost gone. That will complicate things. You're pondering the possibility of a flying thief when you notice the slightest movement to your right -

You go for the door. Ted is up fast, a lot faster then you expected. You spin just in time to dodge a fatal jab to the midsection, but your footing is off. Ted follows through with the second part of his combo -


It's difficult to determine how long you've been out. Someone is dragging you by your left foot. Your back is experiencing some nasty rug burn. It's best to play possum, for now. Your shades are still on your face, so it's safe to open your eyes. Dim floodlights in a narrow ceiling are the first things you see. You look around as much as you can without moving your head. You now understand that pain in your midsection when you spot the gaping hole where your gut used to be. You can make out Ted's familiar faux-hawk on the guy who's dragging you. You've seen better days, Banana Fran, if this little shit can get the drop on you.

You hear the mumblings of several voices ahead of you. Soon, you're passing through a doorway into an area with much higher ceilings. A web of thin metal rafters, exposed, like you might find in one of those chain mega-stores, is all you can see. The mumbling stops. Shuffling and movement. The scraping of metal across thin scratchy carpet.

A shrill voice, amplified through a sound system squawks, "...please enjoy the fea - What is THIS, Theodore?"

Ted responds, a slight quivering in his voice, "He was making a fuss upstairs lookin' for the guy y'all snagged for lunch. I killed him. Thought he might make a nice desert."

Scattered chuckles.

More shrill chirping, "Our young friend Theodore here would like to know if any of you gentlemen would be interested in some fruit salad with your lunch?" Apparently this line was much funnier than Ted's. You're surrounded by uproarious laughter. You can almost hear Ted turning red.

"Just throw him out with the rest of the garbage, Teddy" says a much heavier voice, closer, but just out of site.

Ted drags you in another direction. It's now or never... what do YOU do?

Make a break for it! I'll keep playing it cool, see where this chump take me.