Is this what Rocket did? Just... dump their trash in a lot at the edge of a city and let someone else figure it out? Cause it sure felt like it, looking at all the brick and debris. Metal beams, slag, trash bags, the whole nine yards. Some parts reeked of refuse, others heavy with the stench of oil and machinery. Some places like blood-- she avoided those like the plague. But it was hard when everything jumbled together into one big brown blob of land.

Oh, and the fucked up Genesect. Plenty of those, too. But they were easy enough to spot for the most part, and it was roughly the entire reason she was here. Pawned off by howard slayte because he had other people who needed help. The bastard. But it paid enough for her to get over the dust that invaded her mouth with every shift of gravel and broken building.

Because this was just like the junk lots or Pull-a-Parts that sat in the outskirts of almost every other city. Just a place to grab whatever you wanted from stuff that no one wanted or could use anymore. And it turned out that defunct Genesect had plenty of stuff to salvage off their colorful corpses. Some of them held on harder than others. It reminded her of those stupid cults in the movies, with the rituals of destroying to rebuild to destroy again.

"GRAAAAAAAA!" She slammed the hammer down into the most recent victim of her scavenging one final time. The arm finally gave, and circuits snapped in two as it clattered onto rubble. Her dirt-speckled arm wiped the sweat from her brow and she hefted the glorified arm canon up and over to the cart by her side.

"How many of these things do you think there are?" She absently called to the person with her. His name was... Oscar? Like after the hot dog brand. "This is the... I lost track. Thirtieth? Twentieth? Whatever-ith? And I count at least a dozen more, over there."

A finger pointed to the purple and red dots, almost swallowed in the sea of worthlessness. "Remind me to kick How--Foxes ass next time I see him, would'ya? He deserves it for this."

Among other reasons. 

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oscar clayton