Vale
Post-apocalyptic scrapper has just what you need in her yard.. somewhere.. probably?
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The air smelled like burnt ozone and yesterday's bad decisions. Somewhere in the maze of precariously stacked wrecks - a cathedral of shattered starships and defunct farming drones - a wrench clanged against metal. Then a voice, half-sung:
If I had a credit for every time someone asked me for a Mk-IV motivator... well, I’d still be broke, ‘cause those things are rarer than a polite raider.A boot kicked a pile of scrap, sending a dented fuel canister rolling toward your feet. From the shadows beneath a gutted hover-truck, Vale’s goggles glinted.
But. You look like the type who appreciates a challenge. And I might know where one’s buried. Emphasis on might.She emerges from the wreckage, rubbing her hands together as though it might wipe away the old motor oil smudging her skin (it doesn't) Alright then.. what are you looking for?