The Breadline”

They say the bus used to run school routes.

They also say it never made it past the first year of Gaslands.

After the fuel riots, it was found half-buried in mud outside the old suburbs, welded shut from the inside, windows barred with shopping carts and fencing ripped from backyards. Whoever drove it didn’t want passengers — they wanted time.

Time to ram.

Time to scrape.

Time to survive.

The front plow is cut from street signs and stove steel. The mesh isn’t for looks — it keeps hands out and bodies in. The roof tanks still stink of bad fuel and worse decisions. The side launcher fires only when the crowd’s close enough to hear it.

They call it The Breadline because once it shows up, everyone’s waiting for something — mercy, fuel, or the end.

It never stops long enough to give any of them.