Upon walking down the street it dawned on Sturm. He did not have anywhere to set up camp. He was not familiar enough with the island to just go wondering off into the jungle all willy nilly. He grasped the strap of his bag tightly while he thought to himself. His mind was processing things as fast as he could. Several different possibilities presented themselves. He needed somewhere he could stay. He sat there and thought for a moment, he thought to himself. 'Why not just as them? It is the only logical choice Maybe I could just set up a place in the back of the shop. No that would not be fair to them. Then again why should I care? I do not know this people, have I gone soft? Then again I could potentially put them in grave danger. I started this mess...'

His thought process was broken as he felt something pulling on his poncho. Was a slight tug by a shorter individual. He turned around in the street that was illuminated by lights that hung off the buildings. He saw the boy from the store. The lad who was merely in his teens had followed him down the street. He must have been so lost in his thoughts that he must have not noticed him coming up. This was a quite the shocker to see him out so late at night. “It's dangerous out here to be alone don't you think?” Sturm turned his body all around and squatted a bit to meet the boy at eye level.

“Same to you there big fella, you became quite the celebrity around here.” After saying that the boy showed the bounty poster that had a crudely drawn picture of Sturm. It had to be a makeshift one until they got a true photo of him. They were working with mere sketches of what the men who survived saw. It was close enough to pin him down if they saw the giant cowboy walking around. Sturm let out a slight sigh before standing up. “Well what do you suppose we do then?”

“Papa said you can come stay with us till the heat dies down.”

Sturm nodded calmly as he was not about to turn down this opportunity. Granted he did not want to endanger them both but what choice did he have? He did not have any place here, nor the time to craft a small shack as he did on the island. He had no idea of what dangerous lifeforms crept out in the wilderness. Considering this was karate island one could only assume that the beasts were formidable opponents. The boy lead the way back into town but instead veered off into the east side of the city. In this part of town housing seemed a bit spaced out to give some acres to each house. With all of that space there was no reason to have a suburban life style where the houses sat on top of each other. Each small house had its own privacy and decent sized yards. They moved quickly and silently to a house that was located about 3 blocks down from the main city. The white house on the right. The lights were on and it smelled as if someone was cooking. Sturm was a cyborg but he still did have to fulfill minor human functions such as eating to keep his human parts healthy. Of course he thought it was detrimental to have to function on these things. However, he did not have the capabilities nor the equipment yet to develop himself in such a way. He did have the simple means to modify his mechanical body parts, just not the human ones yet.

With his bag slung over his shoulder he had some equipment he could use to modify, create and tune up when time opened itself up. Maybe this was his chance to do such a thing. As they moved quietly through the neighbor hood under the cover of night he just processed things calmly. A lot slower now that his initial problem had been solved by the grace of the powers that be above. As they moved into range of the house, the boy gave a calm whistle. In response his father, who was situated behind the house gave a resounding call. The two would move towards the back of the house and underground. As they got into the basement of the house through a access point in the back the lad would close the door behind them. Then the sounds of locks closing followed. Sturm let out a sigh of relief as he looked around. Looked secure enough to hold up for a while. At least until things would calm down on the surface for a bit. It was a decent sized basement with tools outlining the sides of the walls. Various equipment that would belong to a blacksmith. He then noticed something that was sitting on the side of the staircase leading into the house. A box that had been wrapped and placed in the open for all to see.

His father looked at Sturm up and down for a moment. As if he was guessing his size or something. “Well sadly friend I don't have anything that would fit you clothes wise. However, I do have this piece of equipment that would work just fine for you. He grabbed the box and presented it to Sturm. For a moment Sturm did not move because he had no idea how to react. He froze for a moment creating a sort of awkward silence before speaking. “This...is for me?”

He grabbed the box with his massive hand span. The box was a bit heavier than usual but not too heavy for him. He looked back at the lad who locked the door who gave a grin. Sturm took his free hand and pulled back the wrapping of the box and popped it open. The wrapper fell to the ground and he dropped the box. 'Maybe some people can be trusted.' he thought to himself as he pulled his gift from the box. Inside of the box he grasped the handle of a fine blade like his own. One that felt stronger, he could tell the difference of strength by how the blade shimmered in the light of the basement. Sturm removed his old one and placed it inside of the old box. The father took the box containing the old sword. He had no real attachments to it considering he got it off the body of a dead marine long ago. He would have just crafted his own but those days have long since passed. Sturm eyed the blade up and down carefully. “You might want to stand back.” Sturm made sure the ceiling was high enough to do this trick. When the two gave him the room he needed he spun the blade of him two times before sliding it into his sheathe. The two gave a calm clap and Sturm returned with a bow.

WC 1187

Sturm had always been one for theatrics, however this was him opening up. After a few years of being in solitude he put himself back into the open. Initially Sturm was the kind of person that just kept to his own lane. After getting burned by the marines, and pirates alike he lost faith in humanity. At one point he was ready to accept the cold embrace of the reaper. He had met some people who were innocent and seemed at the mercy of the marines. He could have just have very well walked away from it all without batting a eye. Maybe it was the boy, maybe it was the fact he held a internal grudge against Marine kind. “I cannot thank you enough for the kindness that has been rendered to me.

His father could not help but laugh at the modesty of the giant cowboy from a foreign land. “No no I am serious, you got me this gift, you are letting me staying here for no charge.” Sturm removed his hat and gave courteous bow. One that actor would give after a performance on stage. The boy and his father returned the bow. Then his father would begin to speak, “You saved my boy and my store. You can stay here as long as you please. Now if you excuse me, the wife is cooking up a meal for us if you care to join us. I let her know that we were having a guest. As much as Sturm wanted to shoot the shit and share stories. There was work to be done. He could no hesitate in any way possible. “If you do not mind I need to get some things down before I lay my head down for the night.” The older male gave a calm nod and began to head up stairs.

The lad began to follow up the stairs leading to the house. He turned around to speak. “Don't worry I will bring you a plate, feel free to use all of the tools down here. And once again thank you.” Sturm could tell the sincerity in his voice. Sturm gave a nod in response before turning to the work bench behind him. He unloaded his things inside of his bag onto the table. He pushed things around and plopped in the seat. He removed his outer layer of clothing to get rid of any obstructions. He placed his poncho, hat, outer shirt and bandanna on the shelf on the far wall. The basement was decent sized as it was a work shop. He even removed his gloves to allow his mechanical hands to be free. He sat back down at the table and began to look at his arms. He had already plotted out this first design but it would require some careful work. The boy came down with his plate and placed it on the table where there was some free space. Sturm pushed up his goggles and slid the food and drink in front him. The boy was curious to see what exactly this man looked like without all that extra stuff. He saw a glance earlier but he did not get a good look at him. Sturm began to eat and he was full aware of the lad trying to get a look at him. He would see the thick plated machinery that covered his arms. Also the scars that were left behind from days gone.

He quickly had his fill of things before handing the plate over to the lad. He quickly down the glass of water before putting it down. It had been quite some time since he had a real home cooked meal. The boy did not say anything but just leave Sturm to his work. Time began to dance onward into the night and Sturm worked diligently. Moments he had to work with one hand because he had to detach one arm at a time to add the parts needed to each arm. It was pushing midnight before he had finished his initial project. The steam locked into the system and he felt things began to circulate. He would have to wait till morning to test them. For the reminder of the night he would mix and match concoctions of the explosive kind. Ones that he was very confident in as he has blown off part of his arm on accident once. It was almost three in the morning and he was yawning constantly. He did not realize it but the boy had laid out a cot in a space behind him. There was a nice folded blanket and pillow on the cot. The kindness knew no bounds of this family. This was truly a new experience.

Spoiler:

WC 792
Total 1979

Explosive agent created
Cyborg implant created