[ WP ] In a post apocalyptic world , the wasteland is ruled with an iron fist by bureaucrat who refuse to accept that the world has changed

People could never learn to understand each other; here we are, stuck on this god forsaken rock, committing the same sins that trapped us here. As the boiling sun hangs above, a blur slowly moves away from the horizon. Either I'm going crazy, or God just might exist. As it gets closer, I find that it is waving the unmistakable flag of the Ruler, and this one was tattered with blood. Shit, how many raiders have gotten hold of those? 
 `` HALT. THIS IS A ROUTINE CHECK FOR STOLEN ITEMS. PLEASE REMOVE ANY WEAPONS AND LAY FLAT ON THE GROUND.'' 
 The commanding voice only helped me to shamble along faster. I take out my rusty rifle and fire off warning shots. At this point I can almost feel the tires on my heels, the heat of the engine on my back. The engine stops, and I can feel a blow to the back of my head. 
 `` YOU HAVE BROKEN LAW. I AM REQUIRED TO DETAIN YOU.'' 
 Another one of these dumbshit enforchines. I almost wish my throat was being slit right now. As I'm slipping the pin off my grenade, I realize it's accompanied by someone else. 
 `` Sir I understand this is very inconvenient, but please bear with us. TMA-1 authority code bravo delta.'' 
 Whoever it is, they obviously are well dressed for the occasion. Standing above me is 6 feet of fully shielded blast armor, and it's handing me a ticket. After my legs decide to cooperate with me and I orient myself, I find the cop standing there dumbfounded. 
 `` What, have you never seen a drifter before?'' 
 To be fair, I hardly looked like one. I looked closer to a maniac, and the dusty suit and tie did n't help much. Brushing off the forsaken dirt, the walking armor speaks to me 
 `` More surprised you did n't try to shoot at me.'' 
 `` Yea well I would n't wan na get my jacket dirty. It's hard enough to keep the color in this thing.'' 
 `` Well, good luck with that. Have a nice day sir.'' 
 As the tin men walk back to their buggy and blaze off back into that dry horizon, I can feel a rumbling in my stomach. Walking on, I look back at the piece of paper in my hand. I quickly stuff it into my mouth, and divert the horrible taste by focusing on my headache. Shit. How am I supposed to survive out here on tickets? And where the fuck are they getting the paper for these?
