Katsina sits watching Sam. She seems glad of the distraction when Ace comes and sits next to her. She nods at his question, understanding his curiosity.
"The Infected are metahumans and paranormal fauna transformed by one of the many Awakened retroviruses of the Group XIII genus ghilani, popularly referred to as the Human-Metahuman Vampiric Virus," she begins. "Like other retroviruses, each species of HMHVV transcribes its RNA into DNA, which is integrated into the host’s genome—unlike other retroviruses, this apparently triggers multiple Awakened genetic structures resulting in a rapid bodily transformation reminiscent of Goblinization or SURGE. A 2070 research paper on the subject (Minase and deMolay, Shiawase) suggests that the exact genes activated by HMHVV are actually pseudogenes (so-called “junk DNA”) theorized to have been left by other retroviruses which worked their way into the germ line thousands of years ago and which comprise up to 8% of metahuman DNA..." She blathers on, completely oblivious to the glazed-over look which is rapidly spreading across Ace's face.
Having emptied the van of camping equipment, and having secured the obelisk, Chino, Doc, and Ohanzee are ready for their trip into town. The van has been extracted from its overnight igloo so that it can test Chino's propensity to crash on the icy roads. Rifle is the closest piece of civilization and should have gear marketed toward ranchers than could be easily repurposed for your non-ranching objectives.
"Shake a leg!" Chino calls out the driver's window Ohanzee. "Shake it twice because they're only half the right length!"
Before Ohanzee can even seatbelt himself in, Chino slams on the gas and peels out, sending up huge rooster tails of snow. He spins the wheel, trying to shoot a column of snow at Ace and Katsina, before straightening out and flying downhill at breakneck pace. Without the weight of Sam or the obelisk, the van fishtails wildly to Chino's apparent delight. He turns around to grin psychotically at Doc in the back seat while Ohanzee stares wide-eyed at the giant tree that Chino is inadvertantly aiming for. Ohanzee is conflicted whether he should secure his seatbelt or open the door and dive for safety. Doc can see the approaching danger; his biomonitor fires off a message:
>> Biomonitor
>> [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
>> Warning: Elevated heart rate and adrenaline detected. Please seek immediate safety.
Chino turns around and notices the approaching danger in time to spin the wheel. The van swings to the left and Ohanzee gets a great view of the tree flying at the passenger side window as the van skids in the snow. Chino downshifts and the van finds purchase at the last possible moments, lurching forward just enough to have the tree pass behind the van instead of clipping it. "YEAH, HAHAHAHA!" Chino laughs sadistically as Ohanzee tries to extract his fingernails from the dashboard and the arm rest.
Something in Chino seems to recognize the close call, and rest of the trip down the hill is comparatively responsible and uneventful. Ohanzee and Doc feel their heartrates returning to normal by the time they drive into town.
Rifle is full of ranchers running errands. Most ranchers calve in the winter, so the cows need to be checked on daily. During extreme cold, the ranchers need increase the amount of feed that cattle receive in order to boost their metabolism and help produce body heat. The town is bustling with men driving around in trucks. Drones do a lot of the work to monitor the herds, but someone still needs to go buy hay and fix fences and tend to the newborns.
Looking around, the away team notices that almost all of the faces in town are Amerind. While the PCC might have the highest concentration of Anglos of all the NAN countries, it's only because of the annexation of Los Angeles and the popularity of corporate enclaves like Aspen. Out here in the rural areas, there are few Caucasian faces to be found. Also, almost everyone is openly carrying a firearm. Hunting rifles or shotguns over the shoulder are the most common, living up to the town's name. Handguns in holsters are not uncommon and seem to be more likely on townsfolk (as opposed to ranchers).
"Lots of Remingtons," Chino says. "950s and 990s. 990 is a natural - classic rugged boomstick. Bolt-action 950 takes some extra work in the winter. The trick is you gotta clean the action of all fluids and lubricants, otherwise they'll freeze up harder than dried Dikote bubble gum. The cold temperatures will moderate heat within the firearm so friction ain't an issue. The wear incurred by the lack of lubrication over shorter time spans is generally negligible, and easily managed by action smoothing." Doc nods to himself; he knows how to do that, given the right equipment.
"Lessee, we got Hy-Way Feed & Ranch Supply or we got Timberline Sporting Goods," he says. He eyeballs a couple of troll ranch hands pulling into the ranch supply place. "Let's start with the sporting goods store." The prudence is surprising.
He pulls into the parking lot and gets out. The trio head into the store, which is just as ethnically native as the town outside. It looks like they'll have most of what you need, if you can get them to sell it to you.
A man (who is either a huge human or a human-looking ork) steps forward, eyeing Doc and Chino narrowly. It's not entirely apparent if he is suspicious of their race or the lack of broadcasted SINs or both. Finally his gaze falls on Ohanzee, whom he addresses coldy, "Can I help you boys?"