2012 04 24 8

Tues April 24 2072

Things seem like they're going pretty smooth for the would-be Kingpin of Barstow. He's got most of the drug and flesh peddlers under his thumb, and the black market's got a distinctly rosy hue to it. And you know what? Without shithead criminal scum blowing each other's brains out over table scraps, the city's actually looking like it might go a long way towards unifying and, hell, even surviving.

There's always someone to piss in a perfectly good bowl of soyflakes, though, and Barstow doesn't lack for examples. It isn't long before people start putting two and two together, and pointing out how it's all these metahumans running things now. A bunch of dandelion-eatin' keebs. A psychotic, chromed-out tusker. Gotta be a conspiracy, man, know what I'm saying?

The "logic" doesn't work with everybody, but it works for enough. Opposition starts forming. Razors looking to make their names start hiring out to the other side. Rose and his crew have their fingers pretty firmly dug into Barstow's creamy crime pie, but it doesn't look like the status quo's going to hold all that long. Maybe, just maybe, it'll be long enough.

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