Hey, cool, it's a 2032 Camaro, in prime condition!
Gas-guzzling automobiles was my secret passion before I turned thirteen. They were so much more fun than boys. Still are, really.
It's a 2032 Camaro. It's probably worth at least a quarter of a million bucks. Who'd leave a car like that in a place like this?
Junk. Expensive junk. But still junk.
It's a container.
Where there's ventilation, there's life.
"MTI Industrial strength paint shaker". So it's a device for shaking paint, then. That's so last century.
It's an industrial strength paint shaker.
It's a rickety ladder.
The smog is particularly bad out here, and the air even less breathable than it is in Metro Circle.
The doors are closed.
I think that's quite enough.
This is volatile stuff. I'd better get rid of it as soon as possible.
Uh-oh. It bites.
I've been up close and personal with enough trash for one lifetime, so...no.
Even if I could somehow squeeze through that hole, there's just no way I'm gonna risk getting stuck ten feet down and starve to death.
If I shake this can any more, it'll probably explode.
And break my back? I think not.
Thanks for putting your greasy hands on me. I'm now charged with a fuckload of electricity, and any further physical contact will result in you being toast.
