Inbetween Reality
Gang Information

Gang Id: 69071
Owner: Inbetween
Darkwind Premium Member: No
Global Fame: anonymous
Home Town: Somerset
Open for PvP?: NO
Primary Faction: Evan Reds



TOWN STANDINGS
SomersetLocally recognised
ElmsfieldLocally anonymous
GatewayLocally anonymous
BadlandsLocally anonymous
TexanLocally anonymous
SarsfieldLocally anonymous
MorganLocally anonymous
FirelightLocally anonymous
ShantyvilleLocally anonymous

FACTION STANDINGS
CivsNeutral
MerchantsNeutral
AnarchistsNeutral
MutantsNeutral
SlaversNeutral
Badlands TruckstopNeutral
MorganNeutral
Deathrace MafiaNeutral
Evan RedsNeutral
RaidersNeutral
PrivateersNeutral


Driving back and forth between cities, this fast-moving gang is mostly associated with freeing slaves and delivering organs, weapons, people and money to other citizens. They strongly believe in a better world, without guns and highly efficient and organized, without capitalism and with a strong justice in place.

As such, they may or may not drive their packages to destination, simply deciding to protect these cargoes from falling in the wrong hands. And shoot down whoever calls them thieves.

Something to read while you wait for events:

Avery was one of the very first children to come out of his bunker, when he was eleven, and tell someone he saw seeds in the sand. While nobody believed him, and smiled without caring much, he nurtured and protected those seeds long enough to see them grow into small plants inside a hand-made greenhouse. He was taught by his parents to do so: nurture and protect things which he believed were right. He used to talk a lot about those two men, strongly opposed to the previous established society before The Rapture. He would speak of them with a strong sense of reverence, and a nostalgic attitude, even when they were still alive. As precious as Avery was, even as a star children, raised by one exceptional ex-deathracer and his mechanic genius husband, he dreamt of deeds requiring no violence, but mostly cunning abilities and swift acting. He felt like part of the weight of the whole world as it was, was on his shoulders. He grew up until twentytwo believing firmly in this, and people approached him, speaking about his narcisism, about how foolish it was of him to try to change the world and whatnot.
Eventually, at the edge of his twentythirth birthday, he decided that his old Cadrona, on which he kept tinkering and smoldering in the last year, was ready for a simple run.

Until that time, he worked as a freelancer, or as some would say... what comes around, goes around. He had his hands wet a bit of blood, grease, dodging bullets in the desert. He wasnt really into gunning and shooting, but still, he managed to survive.

Avery Earphone Martes was getting known inside Somerset circles. That nickname stuck as if being glued to him... well, in place of his missing ear, atleast.
Eventually, during his road days, he brought up some old and young gangers alike, his charisma not being his selling point, but still he was a nice companion and an organized fellow, so he kept the checks, kept people focused on their trainings, left us a broad range of activities to dwell into, without soaking himself up into our lives so much to get stuck in them.
Some day, or another, he named us Yaoi Squad. Old names and words never explained to us, but which sounded cool, he said that was japanese, languages spoken in the far East.
We started surviving better, almost living, being known as couriers and taxi drivers. We kept away from dangerous activities, but some of us were left with the choice, so we could enjoy raiding our fuel-powered horses into nasty firefights, eventually losing members, or limbs, or cars.
Avery was a fine leader, but an even better fellow. I became his fiance for a while, before eventually breaking up, him preferring to follow his fathers steps. He grew close, in his last days before That Day, with a young guy, Kenneth Ely. Nice gunner, short-tempered.

Eventually, those two became so close they would often scout alone in their lonesome Windsor. They did roam together atleast well... until That Day, where Avery went out with two others, promising peeps, but they were so bruised up... their Apache was crushed away with explosions, too many of them, Kenneth told us everything, how they went out in the desert, fought mutant creatures, and eventually merged with fear, hunger, thirst. The girl who was with them was eaten alive by creatures, Avery and Kenneth fended them off with shotguns and rifles. We know them. They mustve been swift, very swift. The girl gave them enough time to shot off limbs and bits of the creatures, providing them time to get some distance between them and the creatures... sadly, the poor body was wasted well before they could totally make it. No ammo, and Avery was taken by a bleeding, dripping, last fucker... Kenneth survived alone, and came back. Or atleast the empty shell of him. Avery was for him what money is for merchants, what fire is for pyromaniacs, what drugs are for the helpless.
It took some deathrace events and then he was gone. Buried with burned remains of his limbs, and some vague tear shed. I was there, all along, watching it, slowly aging in this rotten mutant body. I was the outcast, living between them like a flying banner for what the squad was: freedom, rights, dreams.
A long time of starvation came, took most of us away, either by hunger or by deserting. Me and some others were left around here, helplessly trying to survive day by day, without a leader to represent us.

It took almost ten, long years to rebuild some trust into our names. I took with me Ok, his real name a mystery, Ok Abel, he was a young mechanic trainer when Avery and Kenneth went down, and we worked closely, rebuilding destroyed vehicles, racing some events.
I built it all from scratch, again, following Averys footsteps. I took liberties, and got the squad in a lot less danger than how Avery used to run things.
We thrived, we were reborn, and Im now sitting here, without my ears, without my toes, and with just enough fingers to badly write down some memories.

They will be passed to the future, until some last blow will hit us all. Someday, or another. My only hope is just that Inbetween Reality will be there, watching things, easing the pain of our lives washing away, rebuilding what we can.