The Scribblin's of Elliot Adams

[Daxu]

05 December 2024

New beginning ain't so hard after all. Met some fellers named Earl Mud and Steven Sunshine at the bus depot. Them’s good ol’ boys from Corbin, Kentucky. We stripped down a few cars and picked some hemp plants. Seems they got promise, given me a chance like they did. Introduced me to them's crew–all walks of life in that cohort. Gave me a laundry list of things to figure out for ‘em, some sorta rites of passage.

Been fightin’ with the lawmen up north in gettin’ my truck back, bastards took it and my money at the border. Lord knows they ain't lookin' to give up gold in that weight.

Applied for my carry permit on some website of sorts. Damn shame this is what we done come to. What I plan with my iron ain't no one's business but mine. Reckon we’re gonna need protection if we keep workin this fashion–might get somethin’ sweet in the meantime.

Rode with a gentleman who calls himself “Big Dee” for a while. Was searching for hemp like before, got real lucky. Had some hidden under the snow, had my mind scrambled as a skillet.

One of them deputies took quite a likin’ towards me, Trixie was her name. She was blushin’ like a ripe summer peach I tell ya. Went as far as to drop her number instead of a ticket on my windshield. I did save it, but ain't going down that path–who knows how “Trixie” got her name.

Cowboy coffee ain't worth shit.

[Daxu]

06 December 2024

Emilia done reached out and got a holda me. Glad to see she been doin well–all things considered. Nearly lost it when I saw her–she’s grown now but I’ll always see her as my little sister. Can’t imagine her forgiving Ma and Pa for everythin’ they did and didn't regardin’ us for all them years. Reckon we gon save up and get a small place, clean up our finances and take it from there.

Seems like the Marshals are keepin’ my truck, so I can only hope for some coin from the Ranch sale. What’s enticin’ ‘bout an old beater I ain’t know, but I reckon they don’t neither, like it ain’t what it’s all for. Got myself a Warrener for the time bein’, been too sick of running everywhere.

Anywho, Em and I got caught up smashing cash machines, almost got away but some packs slipped their way into the glove box. Sealed us up for a good few months. Gun permit’s all but denied ‘cause of it, but was a half-steeped idea from the jump–get the law on us for good if I ever did that.

Figured that crew calls themselves The Church. I aint no prayer but they seem like good folk to be around, so I completed the initiation tasks. They call me a “Lightbearer” or somethin’ like that, not real sure what it means, but I’m sure to learn. Sorta joined during a tense time, though. Folks are laying low over the weekend to let notoriety die down. Some are more stressed than others I can tell.

Wish I could find me a black hat.

[Daxu]

08 December 2024

When you hop off a train, youd best hit the ground runnin or youre liable to end up face down in the dirt. Lucky for me my boots are movin.

That gentleman I mentioned before,“Big Dee”, has found himself wearin the unflatterin label of a terrorist, courtesy of the State. Common sense would say to steer clear of such a fella, but somehow I found myself sittin in his truck before the rooster crowed.

We done planned to roll up some Mary Jane, buthings took a turn faster than a coyote in a hailstorm. Ended up in a high speed chase with an allied group, all cause of a mix up with colors and intentions–we came close to throwin down at Chiliad Camp. Thankfully cooler heads prevailed and the day wound up with us cookin LSD like a pair of desert alchemists. Nearly froze our tails off in a blizzard when we went to sell it, though.

Meanwhile, my new crew’s tangled up with the Alliance bike crew. They’ve been chasin’ our leader, grabbin’ up some of our folks—just a big ol’ mess. I’ve taken to ridin’ with a pistol and wearin’ empty body armor though. The vest don’t do much but make me feel braver than I oughta. We’ve been told to keep our heads low and not stir the pot. Seems wise enough. But if they throw the first punch, I’ll be ready to return the favor. For now, though, I’ll keep my powder dry and stay outta the fray.

Before all this trouble started, I spent some time choppin’ cars with the Sunshine boys. Ran into a few of the Alliance fellers—no harm done then. Same when I met up with Mr. Pine and talked shop about a few pistols—no bad blood there neither. I aim to be a force for calm in these parts, though it feels like the storm’s comin’ whether I want it or not.

Yesterday was a quiet one—sold a gun, caught some sleep, and wet my whistle.

[Daxu]

 

 

11 December 2024

Started my day tearin’ into some cars with Frankie and Sunshine, kind of work that makes a feller feel productive even if his hands end up dirtier than a politician promise. We worked for a spell before partin’ ways, each of us ridin’ off to find our own scheme. My path led me straight into somethin’ that would make even a buzzard pause.

At the bank I got flagged down by a man and his missus lookin' for a lift out to Paul’s farm. Bein’ in a charitable mood—or just wantin’ to enjoy the snow—I figured why not. Dropped ‘em off easy enough and tipped my hat. Goin' back I came across a car flipped belly-up and riddled with bullet holes like it been caught in a hailstorm.

Curiosity makes a dangerous cocktail and I never could resist a sip. I found the owners—or what was left of ‘em—lyin stiller than a pond at dawn. Ain’t take long to rifle through pockets, findin’ more than just names. Came away with a pistol, tools, and a handful of spare parts. The car was full of parts too, enough to make a pack mule blush. Figured I’d make quick work and drive it to my stash. Trouble was, before I could, up rolled the federals.

Them fellers either ain't spot the pistol I helped myself to or assumed I had papers for it. We had us a quick chat, me playin’ the concerned citizen. Before they could sniff out any trouble, Sunshine pulled up in his truck and I hopped in.

-

Leavin’ that car behind felt like giftin’ away a jeweler’s estate, but when the law sniffs around a mans gotta weigh his options, and this time discretion tipped the scale. Still reckon that pistol alone was worth it, not to mention all them tools I managed. Sometimes you gotta leave the diamonds and settle for the silver.
With my haul tucked away, I set course for Bayview to cool my heels. Figured I lay low for a while, maybe catch some chatter and stretch my legs. Turns out the only thing stretchin’ was my patience.

Some hot head at the shop got it in his chest to pick a fight with me, spoutin’ off like I done ran him over. A lesser man might of walked away, but I ain’t take kindly to bein’ tested, so I squared up.

I’ll say this much—that feller could throw a punch. We traded blows and for a minute there I thought I might come out on top, but sure as rain he got the better of me. Next thing I knew, I was bein' dragged to the hospital, still breathin’ and still holdin’ my belongins. Turns out he had a code, rough as it was, and that’s a rarity in these parts.

 

 

 

Edited December 12, 2024 by daxu

[Daxu]

 

 

 

 

11 February 2025

I done misplaced this journal for a couple months—found it sittin’ under a rock near a burnt-out fire at a little camp spot I’d made up in the Paleto forests. Ain’t that somethin’? A man sets his thoughts down, leaves ‘em behind, and the world just keeps on turnin’ like it don’t give a damn.

Sunshine up and skipped town for a spell, said he needed some peace from all the racket. Can’t say I blame him, though I sure do miss that feller. Ain’t seen Emelia neither, but that’s nothin’ new—she’s always been like smoke in the wind.

The biggest shake-up, though, is Amara steppin’ down from leadin’ this crew I been runnin’ with. Passed the reins to a Mr. Harvey Lopez. Ain’t sure what that spells for the lot of us, but we already gone back on our code—lettin’ former members walk free when they oughta be put in the dirt. Ain’t no one ‘posed to be above that, not even Amara herself. Whether I stay or go depends on what shakes out these next few weeks, but I’d hate to leave ‘em short another set of hands, ‘specially now that I’ve climbed the ranks some.

Oh, and I got my damn truck back. Course, they done picked through it like vultures on a carcass—gold’s all gone—but beggars can’t be choosers, I reckon. Least I ain’t still hoofin’ it in that old Rancher.

 

 

Edited March 3, 2025 by daxu