Making a statement
There was a man who had a cause. He believed in his cause and would fight to the death for it. He had bombed, burned, wrecked, sabotaged, and destroyed. He had evaded the law for twenty years as he brought about rebellion from all quarters.
The complacency he had found since arriving on the island bothered him. How anyone could sit passively by and allow development without questioning was beyond him. Maureen had suggested he run for the council, but that wasn't how change came about. Change came from force. Came from a show of violence and most of all, change was born from fear. No one recycled until they were afraid for their air and water. Here, he was sure, no one would acknowledge the blight of the scrapyard until they were afraid of what it meant for their idyllic new home.
Patrick left Maureen after their fight and headed for the scrapyard. Once there, he snuck in, keeping an eye out for dogs and guards. This was something he was good at. He saw a few people but they didn't matter. They could be witnesses. They could spread the word.
There was a man who found just the right pile of scraps and he planted a bomb. A bomb that bitch Angie had made intending to blow him up. He knew better, though, and he pushed the button and backed away.
Thirty seconds later, all hell broke loose.
[Gathering post for the scrapyard dance party explosion. Wounds can be mild to moderate from flying bits of metal. Remember to fill out the form in island-medical if you need more than first aid. The bomb is powerful enough to destroy a car so things will go flying around. Tag one another, open to everyone-- victims,IPD, medics, etc. Patrick will be taken care of by the sheriff. Have fun and go wild.]
The complacency he had found since arriving on the island bothered him. How anyone could sit passively by and allow development without questioning was beyond him. Maureen had suggested he run for the council, but that wasn't how change came about. Change came from force. Came from a show of violence and most of all, change was born from fear. No one recycled until they were afraid for their air and water. Here, he was sure, no one would acknowledge the blight of the scrapyard until they were afraid of what it meant for their idyllic new home.
Patrick left Maureen after their fight and headed for the scrapyard. Once there, he snuck in, keeping an eye out for dogs and guards. This was something he was good at. He saw a few people but they didn't matter. They could be witnesses. They could spread the word.
There was a man who found just the right pile of scraps and he planted a bomb. A bomb that bitch Angie had made intending to blow him up. He knew better, though, and he pushed the button and backed away.
Thirty seconds later, all hell broke loose.
[Gathering post for the scrapyard dance party explosion. Wounds can be mild to moderate from flying bits of metal. Remember to fill out the form in island-medical if you need more than first aid. The bomb is powerful enough to destroy a car so things will go flying around. Tag one another, open to everyone-- victims,IPD, medics, etc. Patrick will be taken care of by the sheriff. Have fun and go wild.]