So, apparently about this time in the RP, this was the Wild Wasteland's Second Anniversary post to happen, right here, but because things went so epic because of what happened to Frank, we just failed to notice until the THIRD Anniversary, which is goddamn hilarious. So, with that in mind...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
This entry of Scott VS Frank, funnily enough, begins with...a flashback!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sitting in a chair by the autodoc, FalloutScott was out of his armor, looking in the mirror. A scientist in armor stands nearby.
FalloutScott: Ya can barely tell the difference. Missy, you've got real talent.
Doctor-18: Thank you, Scott. You're not bad yourself, though it's a pity you don't branch out a bit. Still, this is our mandatory chem-tooth implant that Number One has ordered for all of you. Bob, Jack, and all the others have two rear lower-back molars in place to help you out just in case you need a quick burst.
FalloutScott: Aye, but THAT? Shouldn't ya be hittin' me with Buffout or something?
Doctor-18: Nonsense, these are to push you over the top in your strengths, to use your expertise in a manner greater than before. I gave Bob Buffout even though he hates chems because there, he would be unstoppable...for a time. This will have a totally-different effect, according to calculations...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CRACK! Munch munch munch...
Suddenly, Scott's lack of combat expertise made as no difference. He saw and understood. His calculating mind now surged with information about Frank's movements, actions, and the area in relation to his own capabilities and resources. All thanks to...Mentats!
He moved backwards as more exploding cars and spider drones were deployed, all while firing the Rock-It Launcher. Frank, of course, detonated little toy cars and ducked and weaved and dodged around and leapt! He'd been leaping around with those new displacer feet the whole time, using them to close distances, for sure. Thanks to the Mentats, Scott didn't have to figure out the calculations of this unfamiliar custom suit's ablities anymore. They came in a sudden flash and he knew how to intercept it. The easiest way, the most-successful way, was to let Frank go leaping right into danger without forethought like he always does, like he has been this entire fight. Scott noted the way he ignored getting his suit's face pummeled in order to inflict damage onto him. Frank relied on his suit. He didn't use the old head muscle for anything more than a blunt object. Soldiers were hard for Scott to handle because they'd just bullrush him and so on, hence the reinforcements to his own suit. Well, not THIS time... Victory must be earned in brilliant strokes. There was always a way to deal with Scott, quite easily if you used your head. But when you don't, and he DOES...
Frank's target slid under him with calculated action and fired the Rock-It Launcher at point-blank range. A damn teddy bear exploded, damaging the launcher and propelling Frank into the air. Well...MORE into the air. Directly afterwhich, he heard one word shouted from his opponent: "PULL!". There that followed was a slightly-more-distant mechanical sound, a quick energy-sound, and then everythng went BLUE. I think you can guess what happened. Scotty got tired of the wily jackrabbit routine and ordered Metal Gear Box to fire on the airborne target he pointed at. The MGB put forth one its main arms and fired a quick burst of its energy ray from the hand emitter. Frank was not killed on impact. That would be unfair, given all the hard work and effort he put into his powersuit. However, he's not an invulnerable hero, either, so what happened next is...understandable. His suit exploded. His suit exploded into bits and pieces to shower the landscape. He himself, was hurled far from here - naked and smoking like hell - riiight over to the downed Vertibird that Scott had disabled earlier. The BoS members looked over at the very-hurt man.
"Frank? Holy shit! Get this man some medical attention! And...some pants!"
"Dayum! What's that smell?"
"Oh, I've seen this. Frank used too much Radaway at once..."
The moral of this story? Don't take on a man with a giant robot alone...unless you've got Big O or something.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
All Evan got for his troubles was a burst of static. That wasn't a good sign. He couldn't contact Frank. Either he could not or would not respond. This essentially made him want to get out there faster, see what's going on. Mounted and riding now with no official markings, Evan would get to the site of everything with Ferdinand and Dudley soon. No raiders or mutants were out in that direction. They didn't want to go out there... Hell, Evan didn't either, not with that big robot and so on, but he had a plan, you see.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
For the record: Abe, Crawver, and their company of misfit cultists did not starve. Following the circle of rad-vultures, they came upon the corpse of...of...well, they really couldn't identify it. Too many legs or eyes or whatever else. It might've once been a mollusk, but now it was decomposing in the sun, with a great load of vultures working at it. Their course was clear: They would kill the vultures and eat their meat. Seek and ye shall find, find and ye shall- ABE, STOP TRYING TO MAKE MEDICINE OUT OF THE CORPSE!!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
And now, an interlude... ((Done by Neuromancer))
The road to get out of DC was a perilous one. Ghouls, raiders, irradiated critters and a metro system with too little cover to easily slip by. But Jonathan had done it.
I'm never going through those tunnels again! Those blasted ghouls almost did a number on me.
For the first time in five years, he'd left the old capital. It was a decision borne of necessity, considering the Enclave was back. Certain as he was that DC would be turning into a warring hellhole; he decided to venture out into the wild wasteland
If I had to choose between the company of radscorpions and that of a power-armoured, energy weapon-wielding, die-hard patriot, I'd choose neither... or, if pressed, the radscorpions.
He wandered onward for hours, hoping to find a safe place to spend the night, when an opportunity crossed his path.
A crumbling edifice, a house by the looks of it, squatting by the bank of the Potomac river.
As he snuck closer, Jonathan noticed an unusually expansive patch of sand outside it. Its purpose for being there, though, he could not quite point out.
The place was definitely a house, and an expensive one at that; two floors and, from the looks of what was once a window, an attic, 12' ceilings, large, spacious rooms and an ornate design that, despite all the destruction and decay, was still evident.
The building itself, though, was not in such a good state; the ridge of the roof sagged at one end, betraying the gradual shift in the walls. Indeed, the walls themselves were leaning inward. While the structural damage didn't look all that critical, the place was some way from being stable. Looking through the holes that served as windows, Jonathan could see that while the place was dirty and run down, there was a distinct lack of the usual chaos and untidiness indicative of a looted house.
But why would a fairly well-to-do place like this not be plundered?
Doubt filled Jonathan's head. There must have been a good reason other people have not scavenged through the place. Sure, one would argue that the fear of having the roof collapse on your head be adequate cause for most to stay away, but people had been scavenging more derelict places than this, so what made it an exception?
Maybe it was a raider setup? If so, where were they? There is no noise coming from the inside; could they have gone out?
Sneaking his way around back, he uncovered a door leading to what looked like a kitchen. He found himself hesitant to venture inside.
This is too dangerous. Surely there were other, much safer places to look for supplies. Besides, it's not like I'm hungry or anything...
As he turned to move away, though, his stomach gave a protesting rumble, reminding him all too well that he actually hadn't eaten for two days. He slowly and reluctantly turned back toward the door.
OK, so I might be a little bit hungry, but that doesn't mean I'm that desperate, right?
His stomach roared, as though arguing with him.
...I'm gonna get killed for this, I know I am.
The kitchen was far from a mess. Despite all the appliances falling into a state of rot and disrepair, searching through the shelves and seeing the placement of things such as pans or pots showed a certain degree of tidiness generally unseen in the wild. More signs that the place is occupied.
Nothing in the kitchen. Looks like I'll have to delve deeper into the house...
Beyond the kitchen lay a rather spacious living room; two armchairs and a sofa, burnt as they were, were sat facing a fireplace, all set upon a large rug, its patterns too burnt to decipher. At the far end of the hallway was a spiraling stairway.
The structural damage was much more obvious in this room; the ceilings were sagging and the supports in the walls had come loose. The second floor would be a dangerous prospect.
Nothing here, either. I'll have to take a gamble and go up...
The staircase wasn't very stable; with each footfall Jonathan could feel it vibrating beneath him, as though it was barely holding together.
The second floor consisted of a long walkway, with a set of 3 rooms at each side.
First order of business: check the rooms for hostiles. Scavenging can come later.
The first room on the left was a bedroom. Judging from the elaborate furniture and the double bed, it was clearly the room of the couple that owned the place.
The first room on the right was another one with a double bed, but was much more sparsely decorated - a guest room, perhaps?
The next rooms on either side were bathrooms. Jonathan couldn't help but sigh at the redundancy; he never was one to try and make sense of how pre-War rich folk would choose to burn their money.
The third room on the right was completely empty, save for a large window and a
stairway leading to the attic.
Ah, what's this?
The third room on the left was the most interesting. It was clear from the wall decorations, furniture and toys laid around that this was a child's room. On the right of the room there was a baby bed. The little skull of an infant sat lonely on its pillow. A curious sight indeed.
Opening one of the dresser drawers here proved to be a wise decision; it was filled to the brim with a wide variety of food, from Pork n' Beans and InstaMash to Sugar Bombs and BlamCo Mac & Cheese.
Ooooh, I've hit the jackpot now. There's enough food here to last a month!, Jonathan thought as he grinned.
As he started to hastily stuff the newfound treasures into his rucksack, he heard a sound. It was a very heavy sound, the sound of the footsteps of something monstrous, and it was very close. As he slowly inched around to see what caused it, the hulking form of a super mutant uncloaked before him.
A Stealth Boy?!? Seriously?!?
A moment of confusion filled both Jonathan and the mutant as they saw each other eye to eye. And the less confused and angrier the facial expression of the mutant got, the less confused and more horrified Jonathan?s did.
With a roar, the mutant threw a punch that Jonathan's instincts barely saved him from. The gigantic fist instead smashed right through the wall, leaving the mutant's hand stuck. Hastily snatching up his backpack, Jonathan dashed from the room and straight for the stairs.
Super Mutants with Stealth Boys? Why!? Why did it have to happen to me!?
Reaching the top of the staircase with mounting distress, he turned at the enraged roar of the mutant behind him, misstepped and planted his leg through a rotting wooden plank. Swearing at his trapped leg and barely clinging to the banister, Jonathan found himself in a brief moment of shock, which was brought to an abrupt end when the mutant finally emerged from the ruined bedroom. Murder in its eyes, it charged towards him.
Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit-
With a herculean pounce, the mutant launched its colossal bulk toward Jonathan, only to sail narrowly over his head as the stair banister snapped in half and a terrified Jonathan sank up to his chest in the collapsing staircase. The mutant's course propelled it through the wall separating the living room and the kitchen, finally embedding it headfirst in the refrigerator.
This thing has gone completely berserk!
As Jonathan scrabbled back up the splintering stairway, the dazed behemoth recovered from its fall and, snarling savagely, tackled the pillar supporting the tortured staircase, sealing its fate. With a colossal groan, the rotting edifice finally collapsed into firewood.
The super mutant, annoyed that its prey had scrambled out of reach, activated its Stealth Boy and vanished.
OK...survived thus far. Now I need to find a way out of this place before that monster completely demolishes it to get to me.
Running into one of the left-hand bedrooms and peering out of the window, Jonathan scanned the sprawling banks of the Potomac just outside.
Hmm. A jump in the river, perhaps?
Scanning the distance, he tried to judge his chances of jumping that far.
Too far away. Even if I were to make it I?d still have to deal with radiation and mirelurks. This will not do.
Peering out of the window of the bedroom on the right side of the house proved fruitless as well; all he could see were the charred barks of trees. Some reached the height of the roof, but they were too far away to be of any use.
I'll check the attic - maybe there's rope I can climb down with.
Just as he was about to clamber up to the attic, Jonathan saw some sort of movement outside the window. A hulking, shimmering form was lumbering towards the nearest tree.
Oh no.
The form steadily climbed up the protesting bark until it reached the height of the floor Jonathan was on.
Oh, please don't.
The mutant uncloaked and, after a moment of preparation, threw itself toward the house.
Aw, you gotta be KIDDING ME!
The mutant crashed through the wall like a train through a picket fence, landing right next to Jonathan like an unexploded shell and barring the way back to the hall. All he could do was stare in horrified disbelief. As the mutant began to rise, however, Jonathan's brain finally jolted and compelled his shaking legs to drag him rapidly in the direction of the attic ladder.
Jumping up through the trapdoor, he found the place to be long, low, dim and filled to the brim with junk. He frantically searched the dank room, throwing old boxes around in a frenzied shower of knickknacks, old clothing and cameras, but there was nothing he could use to fight or escape his pursuer. The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard from the staircase. Jonathan looked out of the window in desperation, but he knew he'd never survive a jump like that.
DamnitdamnitdamnitDAMNIT!
The mutant's head emerged from the trapdoor like a periscope and scanned the attic. Jonathan rolled into a dark corner and tried to imitate a mouldy box of clothing.
I have a laser pistol and that thing only has its fists. Men have always been hunting beings deadlier than them with the help of technology, so the odds are with me, right?
Jonathan squeezed the trigger. The laser burst forth from the pistol like a bolt and streaked toward the head of the Super Mutant, who ducked just in time to receive a mildly singed scalp.
When have the odds ever been with me?
The shot hit part of the roof support, causing the ceiling above them to groan and tilt ominously.
Uh-oh.
A moment of trepidation passed as both figures contemplated what had just happened. Then the mutant charged.
I'm done for, I'm so done for.
As Jonathan readied himself to fire a few last desperate shots, the cracked ceiling finally dropped like a tarpaulin, releasing a shower of plaster and tiles that enveloped the startled mutant and sent it through the floorboards. The house had survived a nuclear war, it had survived being partially demolished by an enraged super mutant, but it wasn't going to survive that last pistol shot. With the ceiling over him coming down in sheets and the beams under his feet crackling, Jonathan was completely out of options.
So this is how I go? Hoist by my own petard? How iron-...wait!
Shielding his head from the deluge, he scampered to the window. Directly below him, a few stories down, was the wide pit of sand.
If the sand is deep enough, it might not break my legs...close enough, time to go!
Slipping his shades into their special reinforced case and dropping the backpack and walking stick down ahead of him, Jonathan tensed himself for the leap.
Oh man, this is gonna hurt.
He jumped, screaming all the way down.
---
Jonathan came to with sand in his mouth. Spitting and coughing, he turned around and assessed the situation.
"I'm... alive? I'm alive!"
He checked his legs: no signs of damage. Rising triumphantly, he sneezed a noseful of granules and jabbed a finger at the wreckage of the house.
"Yes! YEEEES!
I'M ALIIIIIIIIIIIVE! YES! EAT IT! EAT FUCKING SHIT! MAN WINS AGAIN! HAHAHAHA-...OH!"
Pain flared, his whole body seizing up at once. He fell down on the sand again.
I'll be feeling that in the morning...and next week...maybe next year.
Wheezing and waiting for the pain to subside, he rifled through his backpack. Two cans of Pork n Beans, a Sugar Bomb and a BlamCo Mac and Cheese was all he'd managed to gather before being attacked.
That's... not much. Damn.
In an attempt to stave off disappointment, Jonathan got to planning out what to do next.
I'll need to resupply. I'm running out of purified water and this food's only gonna last me a few days if I ration it. So, to a town then. The bridge is nearby, which means I'm a few days' journey from Springvale and Megaton. Where to go? Springvale's only a little settlement with a few residents, so the chances of me getting much in ways of supplies are pretty slim...although I won't be drawing a lotta heat. Plus, that's where... Ishmael? No, Isaac Black lives, so maybe he'll help me again. Megaton's a lot bigger and I know for a fact that there's a good amount of suppliers there, but can I really run the risk of exposure?
Grabbing his walking stick, Jonathan propped himself up on his feet. "Well", he said. "They're both down the same road, so I'll decide on the way. Time to go-ooooooow." The pain intensified again, as though his body was rioting at the thought of walking after what it had just endured. He collapsed again, drowsiness overtaking him.
On second thought, taking a break doesn't seem that bad an idea. Not like anything bad's... gonna... happ-
Giving in, Jonathan slept a dreamless sleep. Just the way he liked it.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Meanwhile...
After his briefing with Sara Lyons, Talion the Purifier rode forth to find the so-named superior behemoth that people were calling 'duper behemoth' or 'uber-mutant'. Upon his mighty mechanical steed, he galloped at full speed to catch the thing, thereby arriving at Old Onley in record time. We know not WHO is keeping records here, but it's a damn robo-horse, so don't worry about it! Vampire Hunter D had one himself and he got around, quick as you like! ...where was I? OH YES! Old Onley, where the Deathclaws roam...and something else.
[HEADING=1]CRASH!![/HEADING]
He could see it as it passed through an intersection. Hold on, he saw two things... The first was this giant semi-malleable regenerating mutation which was once Dr. Donald Q. Bastion of the Enclave, 'The Doc'. The biggest super mutant ever, how could you miss him? However, before him, swinging on a grappling hook to avoid those meaty hands...had been a man, A human being, wearing a black longcoat and other pre-war clothes. He appeared to be armed with a sniper rifle and responsible for putting holes in the creature every few minutes. Well, talion, looks like it's Shadow of the Colossus time! Ya won't find any interference, as the Deathclaws are actually standing idle now, because they've found this thing can't be done in by mere clawing and biting...so for once they feel a bit lost.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
They had arrived at the Super Duper Mart, currenty base of the Gary clones, and now called them to battle.
"Alright you Garys! Come out!"
The doors and windows opened, some Garys poked their heads out, and a number of them came out as well. However, they then parted their ranks to allow...a different man to exit the place. It wasn't the Runners from the other version of Seattle and is sure as hell wasn't Nicole - No idea what happened to her, really. - but rather...this bloke.
He swaggered up within speaking distance, stood in sort of a cool-man's legs-wide-apart stance and took a pull on his ciggy.
"Right. Who're you, then?"
Natsuki: A pair of Enclave agents leading a platoon of Sylphy clones.
"Oh, fuck off! You serious? Fucking war's bullshit. My people won't stand for it. S'right, they put me in charge and I say...piss off."
Natsuki: Hey, I didn't start it, but I'm liable to finish it.
"You what? Nah nah nah, we don't want that."
Natsuki: The Garys and Sylphys think otherwise. Do they really listen to you?
"Yeah, they talk my language."
Okay, confused now.
Natsuki: You...understand them? Well, what do they want? What do YOU want?
"We want to be free, free to do whatever we want to do! We wanna get loaded and have a good time!"
THIS is the man they decided to make their leader? Natsuki had enough, and got ready for a fight. It was then that she noticed the man had probably some hidden arsenal on his person and that looked like the handle to some kind of sword on his back. The Garys and Sylphys were
Natsuki: Who the hell are you, anyway?
"What, me?"
He drew his sword: A fucking Shish-Kabob.
"They call me The King."
The world's been ended and things have gone to hell. In the midst of it all, the clones who say 'Gary' have found their King. BATTLE ON!!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"I would like to help you and your kin; I could serve as a messenger between you and humans. I think setting up a society is easier when people aren't trying to kill you."
"I agree. You can call me Malkos. Let us go."
The spotters on the walls at Megaton were flabbergasted by the whole affair, but it was real. The Deathclaw was a talker and actually using some manner of diplomacy. This was news! They had to call it in to GNR. Anyway, as they were leaving, Rose's Thorns had sent out a bunch of rigged Eyebots they thought would give them intel into the Enclave signals and let them use the bots themselves. Well, wrong on two accounts. First, they would get an incomprehensible screeching-hissing noise that later would be understood to be a total data-signal which would translate into merely the directions for the eyebots. They don't do Enclave soldier transmissions. And second, they all ceased to function soon after. Why? Because the operators received erroneous feedback and pulled their plugs remotely. So, Malkos and Larry found themselves watching eyebots fall out of the sky now.
"Strange weather..."
Traveling along, they avoided main roads and other places you might expect some sort of raider ambush, thus keeping away from buildings as much as possible unless there were sure signs of civilization there. On they way, they saw a fight breaking out between a group of jumpsuited males of all similar appearance aganst a group of blue-haired females of similar appearance...with a short bus in the vicinity of said battle. Malkos suggested avoiding that. He knew a clusterfuck when he saw one, and the Sylphy-Gary Conflict was certainly one itself. At last, they came to the river, where...uhhh...okay, that didn't look good. There were a bunch of Mirelurks in the Potomac attacking s strange large mutant plant that appears to have grown from the broken bodies of...those plant-monster things Three Dog was calling Scarecrows. Looks like some of them found water after they were crushed by Mirelurks and they formed into something with a big intertwined stalk with attack vines and mouths. It was swatting Mirelurks away, here and there, and was juuust within striking distance of the low-bridge nearby.
"We could kill them all, take their meat, and burn the vegetable... Wait, what's that?"
There is a man on the OTHER side of the bridge. He's in power-armor - Enclave power-armor - but the helmet is off to reveal a very serious-looking man with dark hair. Under normal conditions, you would call him Number 6, but he rejects that monniker. It is not the name of a man, but a Prisoner...
Malkos is uncertain of whether or not to trust what is obviously an Enclave soldier, yet...there's something different about this man. Also, he was currently concentrating all of his attentions on the plant, firing his plasma rifle at it from his own vantage point.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"That thing may be seriously bad news for anyone who is fond of existing."
Bloom: I agree. Let us talk of your business and mine, and how to deal with all of our problems...
Well, Danielle, Marlon, and Morgan Bloom were in talks right now, here at Rivet City, so let us move down to the market area!
Down here, we find another ghoul, a lady calling herself Arizona. She was very much like the made-rotten-looking ghouls that are around here, dressed darkly in some loose-fitting fatigues with a red bandanna on her head coverng her bad eye and a blue bandanna on her arm. Arizona is a special ghoul of military origin. Like Badass Jackson Murphy, she was pre-war...which is also like Morgan Bloom, whom she may have heard about. Well, even if she didn't, she was going to. After stepping out of Flak 'n Shrapnel's, three men with his GG symbol - standing for 'Gentleman Ghoul' - sown into their clothing came to stand in her path. No hostilities. They just seemed to want her attention.
"Ma'am, we have been watching you the word around the wastes is that you are not only an experienced person in combat and conflict, but also that you may be pre-war. For those reasons, our boss - Morgan Bloom - would like to offer you work in solving a crisis that threatens not just ghoulkind, but mankind. It is dangerous and will involve fighting other ghouls. It also pertains to other important situations which - with his apologies - Mr. Bloom cannot be present to explain at this time. If you accept, we will go somewhere and talk. If not, go about your business. What is your answer?"
Well now... A strange and likely dangerous job offer. Will wonders never cease?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Situations over at the Citadel heated up and then kinda' cooled down with the arrival of Charlie Cannon and William Knight's company. During the the entrance, they noticed that Johnny Truant had a problem. They saw it coming a mile away: A Ramsey-level drug addiction come-down. When they originally found Evan Ramsey, the Vault Dweller who was now a scribe, they had to do some serious recovery on him. Johnny's hallucinations got bad, like...Big O bad. He saw the past, he saw the future, and he saw parallel versions of him. It was all a bit trippy and he probably wished he could tell them...The Truth about Number One, for he had seen the edge of the world and what kind of man he was within it. Unfortunately, he had to be isolated right-fucking-immediately....leaving Charlie, Sylph, and William to go in different directions in the former Pentagon.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
William was brought before Sara Lyons, naturally. And while other things were going on, he explained a number of the tight inner-workings and that of the Enclave Underground. He also managed to fully-clear any suspicion of Lucy Black beng a traitor or anything like that. Finally, he handed over the data that he had taken from their computers. And while it was nothing from the main computer, it was important enough to bring back safely. Among a load of technical data, William had found a user guide to the base itself. It was in the educational folders for children being raised in there. It explained the general layout of the base and at least some of the details. Nothing too deeply-specific, but it was all stuff that the BoS didn't know before, and was usable by them.
Sara: Small wonder they've set up shop on the surface. If their access points up there were destroyed, they could be trapped for a very long time. I think we can offer the EU a peaceful co-existence, provided they retire from active duty like the Enclave remnants in the Mojave area. They just want to survive, it seems. The Fallouts and Number One have me a little concerned. I'm almost certain they're trying to play us. We pulled data from FalloutBob's helmet before he got his armor back, heavily-confidential data regarding activity in China, glowing ghoul activity. Now, the Enclave have launched a nuclear missle and it was supposedly a ship of some kind that they hit, possibly foreign. I think they let the info leak on purpose, but I can't prove it. Right now, Danielle Rose and Marlon Van Graff are trying to organize with all of the factions around here to deal with the Enclave It's all a big mess, but I think we'll pull together somehow. You did great work, William. I'll send word to Morgan Bloom right away and you'll get whatever he offered you in payment. As for us, is there anything we can do? I know Ramsey will be pleased to hear you're alive. Unfortunately, I think he went to check up on Frank and that damn huge robot the Enclave has. *Sigh* I miss Liberty...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Charlie slept in the Barracks, one might hear from the hallways...a kind of poetic nonsense coming from a soldier in power-armor.
The uhhh...last part shouted all of a sudden was due to another soldier in power-armorbuzzing him through the hallway with an ATV, honking at him. Charlie would hear a third man in power-armor - a guy who was reading a book - shout "GOD DAMMIT, WILLY!!" before going after him. Yeah, this place could get weird too. Sleep wasn't going to come easy around here, recruit. Still, you could either try and get more shut-eye before they come back or see what there is to DO around here.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Frink was analyzing stuff for Sylph - the ORIGNAL Sylph, mind you, and not a Sylphy - they would both hear the sounds of an ATV going through the hallway outside the lab, honking its horn. This was shortly followed by Willy - carrying a flamethrower - running after the soldier and shouting "IF IT'S A CHOICE BETWEEN REGULAR AND EXTRA-CRISPY, I WANT EXTRA-CRISPY!! BUUUURRRNNN!!!" and other profane threats and such. A passing Scribe - seeing this - signed and remarked that Section 2 was quieter. Frink, you haven't been discovered yet, but eventually, someone will...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
At last, Lucy Black was going home, talking with and escorting Kristin on the way. She was out of the picture, for now, though there maybe a time in the future when she will be needed again. Only time will tell. When she got back into the area, she might hear talk of the battle of the Garys and the Sylphys that involved a girl with pink hair and horns. She would probably also hear about Larry Hatchet walking off with a talking Deathclaw. However, those things weren't her problem right now. Lucy was going back to her LIFE. What she did not know was...the full extent of Jack's influence on the matter.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Back at the Enclave base, Number One's domicile... Number One got a call from Jack, who was busy repairing the damage to his Stinger-chopper.
"Yes, Jack? Oh? Ouch. But the mission WAS completed, correct? Good. So, back to the daughter of Black, then- What? Fought it out, did you? Okay, then what? I see... Yes, I think we can put her on the Retired list. It's not like Isaac succeeded in screwing us up or anything. Hmmm? You want what? No shit? Oh...alright. I'll let you get back to fixing your ride, then."
Five minutes later, a pair of soldiers came to a rather familiar room, the one that a certain wildly-evolved Deathclaw-being had been visiting from time to time. They stopped before the carbonite slab with an undertaker frozen into it and loaded it onto the cart.
#88: You sure he wanted this guy revitalized, no strings attached or nothing?
#55: Hey, if that's what Number One wants, that's what Number One gets.
With the closing of Chapter Black, we demand the return of Shifty McGee!
[HEADING=2]Welcome to the Second Anniversary of the Wild Wasteland![/HEADING]
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
This entry of Scott VS Frank, funnily enough, begins with...a flashback!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sitting in a chair by the autodoc, FalloutScott was out of his armor, looking in the mirror. A scientist in armor stands nearby.
FalloutScott: Ya can barely tell the difference. Missy, you've got real talent.
Doctor-18: Thank you, Scott. You're not bad yourself, though it's a pity you don't branch out a bit. Still, this is our mandatory chem-tooth implant that Number One has ordered for all of you. Bob, Jack, and all the others have two rear lower-back molars in place to help you out just in case you need a quick burst.
FalloutScott: Aye, but THAT? Shouldn't ya be hittin' me with Buffout or something?
Doctor-18: Nonsense, these are to push you over the top in your strengths, to use your expertise in a manner greater than before. I gave Bob Buffout even though he hates chems because there, he would be unstoppable...for a time. This will have a totally-different effect, according to calculations...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CRACK! Munch munch munch...
Suddenly, Scott's lack of combat expertise made as no difference. He saw and understood. His calculating mind now surged with information about Frank's movements, actions, and the area in relation to his own capabilities and resources. All thanks to...Mentats!
He moved backwards as more exploding cars and spider drones were deployed, all while firing the Rock-It Launcher. Frank, of course, detonated little toy cars and ducked and weaved and dodged around and leapt! He'd been leaping around with those new displacer feet the whole time, using them to close distances, for sure. Thanks to the Mentats, Scott didn't have to figure out the calculations of this unfamiliar custom suit's ablities anymore. They came in a sudden flash and he knew how to intercept it. The easiest way, the most-successful way, was to let Frank go leaping right into danger without forethought like he always does, like he has been this entire fight. Scott noted the way he ignored getting his suit's face pummeled in order to inflict damage onto him. Frank relied on his suit. He didn't use the old head muscle for anything more than a blunt object. Soldiers were hard for Scott to handle because they'd just bullrush him and so on, hence the reinforcements to his own suit. Well, not THIS time... Victory must be earned in brilliant strokes. There was always a way to deal with Scott, quite easily if you used your head. But when you don't, and he DOES...
Frank's target slid under him with calculated action and fired the Rock-It Launcher at point-blank range. A damn teddy bear exploded, damaging the launcher and propelling Frank into the air. Well...MORE into the air. Directly afterwhich, he heard one word shouted from his opponent: "PULL!". There that followed was a slightly-more-distant mechanical sound, a quick energy-sound, and then everythng went BLUE. I think you can guess what happened. Scotty got tired of the wily jackrabbit routine and ordered Metal Gear Box to fire on the airborne target he pointed at. The MGB put forth one its main arms and fired a quick burst of its energy ray from the hand emitter. Frank was not killed on impact. That would be unfair, given all the hard work and effort he put into his powersuit. However, he's not an invulnerable hero, either, so what happened next is...understandable. His suit exploded. His suit exploded into bits and pieces to shower the landscape. He himself, was hurled far from here - naked and smoking like hell - riiight over to the downed Vertibird that Scott had disabled earlier. The BoS members looked over at the very-hurt man.
"Frank? Holy shit! Get this man some medical attention! And...some pants!"
"Dayum! What's that smell?"
"Oh, I've seen this. Frank used too much Radaway at once..."
The moral of this story? Don't take on a man with a giant robot alone...unless you've got Big O or something.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
All Evan got for his troubles was a burst of static. That wasn't a good sign. He couldn't contact Frank. Either he could not or would not respond. This essentially made him want to get out there faster, see what's going on. Mounted and riding now with no official markings, Evan would get to the site of everything with Ferdinand and Dudley soon. No raiders or mutants were out in that direction. They didn't want to go out there... Hell, Evan didn't either, not with that big robot and so on, but he had a plan, you see.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
For the record: Abe, Crawver, and their company of misfit cultists did not starve. Following the circle of rad-vultures, they came upon the corpse of...of...well, they really couldn't identify it. Too many legs or eyes or whatever else. It might've once been a mollusk, but now it was decomposing in the sun, with a great load of vultures working at it. Their course was clear: They would kill the vultures and eat their meat. Seek and ye shall find, find and ye shall- ABE, STOP TRYING TO MAKE MEDICINE OUT OF THE CORPSE!!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
And now, an interlude... ((Done by Neuromancer))
The road to get out of DC was a perilous one. Ghouls, raiders, irradiated critters and a metro system with too little cover to easily slip by. But Jonathan had done it.
I'm never going through those tunnels again! Those blasted ghouls almost did a number on me.
For the first time in five years, he'd left the old capital. It was a decision borne of necessity, considering the Enclave was back. Certain as he was that DC would be turning into a warring hellhole; he decided to venture out into the wild wasteland
If I had to choose between the company of radscorpions and that of a power-armoured, energy weapon-wielding, die-hard patriot, I'd choose neither... or, if pressed, the radscorpions.
He wandered onward for hours, hoping to find a safe place to spend the night, when an opportunity crossed his path.
A crumbling edifice, a house by the looks of it, squatting by the bank of the Potomac river.
As he snuck closer, Jonathan noticed an unusually expansive patch of sand outside it. Its purpose for being there, though, he could not quite point out.
The place was definitely a house, and an expensive one at that; two floors and, from the looks of what was once a window, an attic, 12' ceilings, large, spacious rooms and an ornate design that, despite all the destruction and decay, was still evident.
The building itself, though, was not in such a good state; the ridge of the roof sagged at one end, betraying the gradual shift in the walls. Indeed, the walls themselves were leaning inward. While the structural damage didn't look all that critical, the place was some way from being stable. Looking through the holes that served as windows, Jonathan could see that while the place was dirty and run down, there was a distinct lack of the usual chaos and untidiness indicative of a looted house.
But why would a fairly well-to-do place like this not be plundered?
Doubt filled Jonathan's head. There must have been a good reason other people have not scavenged through the place. Sure, one would argue that the fear of having the roof collapse on your head be adequate cause for most to stay away, but people had been scavenging more derelict places than this, so what made it an exception?
Maybe it was a raider setup? If so, where were they? There is no noise coming from the inside; could they have gone out?
Sneaking his way around back, he uncovered a door leading to what looked like a kitchen. He found himself hesitant to venture inside.
This is too dangerous. Surely there were other, much safer places to look for supplies. Besides, it's not like I'm hungry or anything...
As he turned to move away, though, his stomach gave a protesting rumble, reminding him all too well that he actually hadn't eaten for two days. He slowly and reluctantly turned back toward the door.
OK, so I might be a little bit hungry, but that doesn't mean I'm that desperate, right?
His stomach roared, as though arguing with him.
...I'm gonna get killed for this, I know I am.
The kitchen was far from a mess. Despite all the appliances falling into a state of rot and disrepair, searching through the shelves and seeing the placement of things such as pans or pots showed a certain degree of tidiness generally unseen in the wild. More signs that the place is occupied.
Nothing in the kitchen. Looks like I'll have to delve deeper into the house...
Beyond the kitchen lay a rather spacious living room; two armchairs and a sofa, burnt as they were, were sat facing a fireplace, all set upon a large rug, its patterns too burnt to decipher. At the far end of the hallway was a spiraling stairway.
The structural damage was much more obvious in this room; the ceilings were sagging and the supports in the walls had come loose. The second floor would be a dangerous prospect.
Nothing here, either. I'll have to take a gamble and go up...
The staircase wasn't very stable; with each footfall Jonathan could feel it vibrating beneath him, as though it was barely holding together.
The second floor consisted of a long walkway, with a set of 3 rooms at each side.
First order of business: check the rooms for hostiles. Scavenging can come later.
The first room on the left was a bedroom. Judging from the elaborate furniture and the double bed, it was clearly the room of the couple that owned the place.
The first room on the right was another one with a double bed, but was much more sparsely decorated - a guest room, perhaps?
The next rooms on either side were bathrooms. Jonathan couldn't help but sigh at the redundancy; he never was one to try and make sense of how pre-War rich folk would choose to burn their money.
The third room on the right was completely empty, save for a large window and a
stairway leading to the attic.
Ah, what's this?
The third room on the left was the most interesting. It was clear from the wall decorations, furniture and toys laid around that this was a child's room. On the right of the room there was a baby bed. The little skull of an infant sat lonely on its pillow. A curious sight indeed.
Opening one of the dresser drawers here proved to be a wise decision; it was filled to the brim with a wide variety of food, from Pork n' Beans and InstaMash to Sugar Bombs and BlamCo Mac & Cheese.
Ooooh, I've hit the jackpot now. There's enough food here to last a month!, Jonathan thought as he grinned.
As he started to hastily stuff the newfound treasures into his rucksack, he heard a sound. It was a very heavy sound, the sound of the footsteps of something monstrous, and it was very close. As he slowly inched around to see what caused it, the hulking form of a super mutant uncloaked before him.
A Stealth Boy?!? Seriously?!?
A moment of confusion filled both Jonathan and the mutant as they saw each other eye to eye. And the less confused and angrier the facial expression of the mutant got, the less confused and more horrified Jonathan?s did.
With a roar, the mutant threw a punch that Jonathan's instincts barely saved him from. The gigantic fist instead smashed right through the wall, leaving the mutant's hand stuck. Hastily snatching up his backpack, Jonathan dashed from the room and straight for the stairs.
Super Mutants with Stealth Boys? Why!? Why did it have to happen to me!?
Reaching the top of the staircase with mounting distress, he turned at the enraged roar of the mutant behind him, misstepped and planted his leg through a rotting wooden plank. Swearing at his trapped leg and barely clinging to the banister, Jonathan found himself in a brief moment of shock, which was brought to an abrupt end when the mutant finally emerged from the ruined bedroom. Murder in its eyes, it charged towards him.
Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit-
With a herculean pounce, the mutant launched its colossal bulk toward Jonathan, only to sail narrowly over his head as the stair banister snapped in half and a terrified Jonathan sank up to his chest in the collapsing staircase. The mutant's course propelled it through the wall separating the living room and the kitchen, finally embedding it headfirst in the refrigerator.
This thing has gone completely berserk!
As Jonathan scrabbled back up the splintering stairway, the dazed behemoth recovered from its fall and, snarling savagely, tackled the pillar supporting the tortured staircase, sealing its fate. With a colossal groan, the rotting edifice finally collapsed into firewood.
The super mutant, annoyed that its prey had scrambled out of reach, activated its Stealth Boy and vanished.
OK...survived thus far. Now I need to find a way out of this place before that monster completely demolishes it to get to me.
Running into one of the left-hand bedrooms and peering out of the window, Jonathan scanned the sprawling banks of the Potomac just outside.
Hmm. A jump in the river, perhaps?
Scanning the distance, he tried to judge his chances of jumping that far.
Too far away. Even if I were to make it I?d still have to deal with radiation and mirelurks. This will not do.
Peering out of the window of the bedroom on the right side of the house proved fruitless as well; all he could see were the charred barks of trees. Some reached the height of the roof, but they were too far away to be of any use.
I'll check the attic - maybe there's rope I can climb down with.
Just as he was about to clamber up to the attic, Jonathan saw some sort of movement outside the window. A hulking, shimmering form was lumbering towards the nearest tree.
Oh no.
The form steadily climbed up the protesting bark until it reached the height of the floor Jonathan was on.
Oh, please don't.
The mutant uncloaked and, after a moment of preparation, threw itself toward the house.
Aw, you gotta be KIDDING ME!
The mutant crashed through the wall like a train through a picket fence, landing right next to Jonathan like an unexploded shell and barring the way back to the hall. All he could do was stare in horrified disbelief. As the mutant began to rise, however, Jonathan's brain finally jolted and compelled his shaking legs to drag him rapidly in the direction of the attic ladder.
Jumping up through the trapdoor, he found the place to be long, low, dim and filled to the brim with junk. He frantically searched the dank room, throwing old boxes around in a frenzied shower of knickknacks, old clothing and cameras, but there was nothing he could use to fight or escape his pursuer. The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard from the staircase. Jonathan looked out of the window in desperation, but he knew he'd never survive a jump like that.
DamnitdamnitdamnitDAMNIT!
The mutant's head emerged from the trapdoor like a periscope and scanned the attic. Jonathan rolled into a dark corner and tried to imitate a mouldy box of clothing.
I have a laser pistol and that thing only has its fists. Men have always been hunting beings deadlier than them with the help of technology, so the odds are with me, right?
Jonathan squeezed the trigger. The laser burst forth from the pistol like a bolt and streaked toward the head of the Super Mutant, who ducked just in time to receive a mildly singed scalp.
When have the odds ever been with me?
The shot hit part of the roof support, causing the ceiling above them to groan and tilt ominously.
Uh-oh.
A moment of trepidation passed as both figures contemplated what had just happened. Then the mutant charged.
I'm done for, I'm so done for.
As Jonathan readied himself to fire a few last desperate shots, the cracked ceiling finally dropped like a tarpaulin, releasing a shower of plaster and tiles that enveloped the startled mutant and sent it through the floorboards. The house had survived a nuclear war, it had survived being partially demolished by an enraged super mutant, but it wasn't going to survive that last pistol shot. With the ceiling over him coming down in sheets and the beams under his feet crackling, Jonathan was completely out of options.
So this is how I go? Hoist by my own petard? How iron-...wait!
Shielding his head from the deluge, he scampered to the window. Directly below him, a few stories down, was the wide pit of sand.
If the sand is deep enough, it might not break my legs...close enough, time to go!
Slipping his shades into their special reinforced case and dropping the backpack and walking stick down ahead of him, Jonathan tensed himself for the leap.
Oh man, this is gonna hurt.
He jumped, screaming all the way down.
---
Jonathan came to with sand in his mouth. Spitting and coughing, he turned around and assessed the situation.
"I'm... alive? I'm alive!"
He checked his legs: no signs of damage. Rising triumphantly, he sneezed a noseful of granules and jabbed a finger at the wreckage of the house.
"Yes! YEEEES!
I'M ALIIIIIIIIIIIVE! YES! EAT IT! EAT FUCKING SHIT! MAN WINS AGAIN! HAHAHAHA-...OH!"
Pain flared, his whole body seizing up at once. He fell down on the sand again.
I'll be feeling that in the morning...and next week...maybe next year.
Wheezing and waiting for the pain to subside, he rifled through his backpack. Two cans of Pork n Beans, a Sugar Bomb and a BlamCo Mac and Cheese was all he'd managed to gather before being attacked.
That's... not much. Damn.
In an attempt to stave off disappointment, Jonathan got to planning out what to do next.
I'll need to resupply. I'm running out of purified water and this food's only gonna last me a few days if I ration it. So, to a town then. The bridge is nearby, which means I'm a few days' journey from Springvale and Megaton. Where to go? Springvale's only a little settlement with a few residents, so the chances of me getting much in ways of supplies are pretty slim...although I won't be drawing a lotta heat. Plus, that's where... Ishmael? No, Isaac Black lives, so maybe he'll help me again. Megaton's a lot bigger and I know for a fact that there's a good amount of suppliers there, but can I really run the risk of exposure?
Grabbing his walking stick, Jonathan propped himself up on his feet. "Well", he said. "They're both down the same road, so I'll decide on the way. Time to go-ooooooow." The pain intensified again, as though his body was rioting at the thought of walking after what it had just endured. He collapsed again, drowsiness overtaking him.
On second thought, taking a break doesn't seem that bad an idea. Not like anything bad's... gonna... happ-
Giving in, Jonathan slept a dreamless sleep. Just the way he liked it.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Meanwhile...
After his briefing with Sara Lyons, Talion the Purifier rode forth to find the so-named superior behemoth that people were calling 'duper behemoth' or 'uber-mutant'. Upon his mighty mechanical steed, he galloped at full speed to catch the thing, thereby arriving at Old Onley in record time. We know not WHO is keeping records here, but it's a damn robo-horse, so don't worry about it! Vampire Hunter D had one himself and he got around, quick as you like! ...where was I? OH YES! Old Onley, where the Deathclaws roam...and something else.
[HEADING=1]CRASH!![/HEADING]
He could see it as it passed through an intersection. Hold on, he saw two things... The first was this giant semi-malleable regenerating mutation which was once Dr. Donald Q. Bastion of the Enclave, 'The Doc'. The biggest super mutant ever, how could you miss him? However, before him, swinging on a grappling hook to avoid those meaty hands...had been a man, A human being, wearing a black longcoat and other pre-war clothes. He appeared to be armed with a sniper rifle and responsible for putting holes in the creature every few minutes. Well, talion, looks like it's Shadow of the Colossus time! Ya won't find any interference, as the Deathclaws are actually standing idle now, because they've found this thing can't be done in by mere clawing and biting...so for once they feel a bit lost.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
They had arrived at the Super Duper Mart, currenty base of the Gary clones, and now called them to battle.
"Alright you Garys! Come out!"
[HEADING=1]"GARY!!!"[/HEADING]
The doors and windows opened, some Garys poked their heads out, and a number of them came out as well. However, they then parted their ranks to allow...a different man to exit the place. It wasn't the Runners from the other version of Seattle and is sure as hell wasn't Nicole - No idea what happened to her, really. - but rather...this bloke.
He swaggered up within speaking distance, stood in sort of a cool-man's legs-wide-apart stance and took a pull on his ciggy.
"Right. Who're you, then?"
Natsuki: A pair of Enclave agents leading a platoon of Sylphy clones.
"Oh, fuck off! You serious? Fucking war's bullshit. My people won't stand for it. S'right, they put me in charge and I say...piss off."
Natsuki: Hey, I didn't start it, but I'm liable to finish it.
"You what? Nah nah nah, we don't want that."
Natsuki: The Garys and Sylphys think otherwise. Do they really listen to you?
"Yeah, they talk my language."
Okay, confused now.
Natsuki: You...understand them? Well, what do they want? What do YOU want?
"We want to be free, free to do whatever we want to do! We wanna get loaded and have a good time!"
THIS is the man they decided to make their leader? Natsuki had enough, and got ready for a fight. It was then that she noticed the man had probably some hidden arsenal on his person and that looked like the handle to some kind of sword on his back. The Garys and Sylphys were
Natsuki: Who the hell are you, anyway?
"What, me?"
He drew his sword: A fucking Shish-Kabob.
"They call me The King."
The world's been ended and things have gone to hell. In the midst of it all, the clones who say 'Gary' have found their King. BATTLE ON!!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"I would like to help you and your kin; I could serve as a messenger between you and humans. I think setting up a society is easier when people aren't trying to kill you."
"I agree. You can call me Malkos. Let us go."
The spotters on the walls at Megaton were flabbergasted by the whole affair, but it was real. The Deathclaw was a talker and actually using some manner of diplomacy. This was news! They had to call it in to GNR. Anyway, as they were leaving, Rose's Thorns had sent out a bunch of rigged Eyebots they thought would give them intel into the Enclave signals and let them use the bots themselves. Well, wrong on two accounts. First, they would get an incomprehensible screeching-hissing noise that later would be understood to be a total data-signal which would translate into merely the directions for the eyebots. They don't do Enclave soldier transmissions. And second, they all ceased to function soon after. Why? Because the operators received erroneous feedback and pulled their plugs remotely. So, Malkos and Larry found themselves watching eyebots fall out of the sky now.
"Strange weather..."
Traveling along, they avoided main roads and other places you might expect some sort of raider ambush, thus keeping away from buildings as much as possible unless there were sure signs of civilization there. On they way, they saw a fight breaking out between a group of jumpsuited males of all similar appearance aganst a group of blue-haired females of similar appearance...with a short bus in the vicinity of said battle. Malkos suggested avoiding that. He knew a clusterfuck when he saw one, and the Sylphy-Gary Conflict was certainly one itself. At last, they came to the river, where...uhhh...okay, that didn't look good. There were a bunch of Mirelurks in the Potomac attacking s strange large mutant plant that appears to have grown from the broken bodies of...those plant-monster things Three Dog was calling Scarecrows. Looks like some of them found water after they were crushed by Mirelurks and they formed into something with a big intertwined stalk with attack vines and mouths. It was swatting Mirelurks away, here and there, and was juuust within striking distance of the low-bridge nearby.
"We could kill them all, take their meat, and burn the vegetable... Wait, what's that?"
There is a man on the OTHER side of the bridge. He's in power-armor - Enclave power-armor - but the helmet is off to reveal a very serious-looking man with dark hair. Under normal conditions, you would call him Number 6, but he rejects that monniker. It is not the name of a man, but a Prisoner...
Malkos is uncertain of whether or not to trust what is obviously an Enclave soldier, yet...there's something different about this man. Also, he was currently concentrating all of his attentions on the plant, firing his plasma rifle at it from his own vantage point.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
"That thing may be seriously bad news for anyone who is fond of existing."
Bloom: I agree. Let us talk of your business and mine, and how to deal with all of our problems...
Well, Danielle, Marlon, and Morgan Bloom were in talks right now, here at Rivet City, so let us move down to the market area!
Down here, we find another ghoul, a lady calling herself Arizona. She was very much like the made-rotten-looking ghouls that are around here, dressed darkly in some loose-fitting fatigues with a red bandanna on her head coverng her bad eye and a blue bandanna on her arm. Arizona is a special ghoul of military origin. Like Badass Jackson Murphy, she was pre-war...which is also like Morgan Bloom, whom she may have heard about. Well, even if she didn't, she was going to. After stepping out of Flak 'n Shrapnel's, three men with his GG symbol - standing for 'Gentleman Ghoul' - sown into their clothing came to stand in her path. No hostilities. They just seemed to want her attention.
"Ma'am, we have been watching you the word around the wastes is that you are not only an experienced person in combat and conflict, but also that you may be pre-war. For those reasons, our boss - Morgan Bloom - would like to offer you work in solving a crisis that threatens not just ghoulkind, but mankind. It is dangerous and will involve fighting other ghouls. It also pertains to other important situations which - with his apologies - Mr. Bloom cannot be present to explain at this time. If you accept, we will go somewhere and talk. If not, go about your business. What is your answer?"
Well now... A strange and likely dangerous job offer. Will wonders never cease?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Situations over at the Citadel heated up and then kinda' cooled down with the arrival of Charlie Cannon and William Knight's company. During the the entrance, they noticed that Johnny Truant had a problem. They saw it coming a mile away: A Ramsey-level drug addiction come-down. When they originally found Evan Ramsey, the Vault Dweller who was now a scribe, they had to do some serious recovery on him. Johnny's hallucinations got bad, like...Big O bad. He saw the past, he saw the future, and he saw parallel versions of him. It was all a bit trippy and he probably wished he could tell them...The Truth about Number One, for he had seen the edge of the world and what kind of man he was within it. Unfortunately, he had to be isolated right-fucking-immediately....leaving Charlie, Sylph, and William to go in different directions in the former Pentagon.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
William was brought before Sara Lyons, naturally. And while other things were going on, he explained a number of the tight inner-workings and that of the Enclave Underground. He also managed to fully-clear any suspicion of Lucy Black beng a traitor or anything like that. Finally, he handed over the data that he had taken from their computers. And while it was nothing from the main computer, it was important enough to bring back safely. Among a load of technical data, William had found a user guide to the base itself. It was in the educational folders for children being raised in there. It explained the general layout of the base and at least some of the details. Nothing too deeply-specific, but it was all stuff that the BoS didn't know before, and was usable by them.
Sara: Small wonder they've set up shop on the surface. If their access points up there were destroyed, they could be trapped for a very long time. I think we can offer the EU a peaceful co-existence, provided they retire from active duty like the Enclave remnants in the Mojave area. They just want to survive, it seems. The Fallouts and Number One have me a little concerned. I'm almost certain they're trying to play us. We pulled data from FalloutBob's helmet before he got his armor back, heavily-confidential data regarding activity in China, glowing ghoul activity. Now, the Enclave have launched a nuclear missle and it was supposedly a ship of some kind that they hit, possibly foreign. I think they let the info leak on purpose, but I can't prove it. Right now, Danielle Rose and Marlon Van Graff are trying to organize with all of the factions around here to deal with the Enclave It's all a big mess, but I think we'll pull together somehow. You did great work, William. I'll send word to Morgan Bloom right away and you'll get whatever he offered you in payment. As for us, is there anything we can do? I know Ramsey will be pleased to hear you're alive. Unfortunately, I think he went to check up on Frank and that damn huge robot the Enclave has. *Sigh* I miss Liberty...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Charlie slept in the Barracks, one might hear from the hallways...a kind of poetic nonsense coming from a soldier in power-armor.
The uhhh...last part shouted all of a sudden was due to another soldier in power-armorbuzzing him through the hallway with an ATV, honking at him. Charlie would hear a third man in power-armor - a guy who was reading a book - shout "GOD DAMMIT, WILLY!!" before going after him. Yeah, this place could get weird too. Sleep wasn't going to come easy around here, recruit. Still, you could either try and get more shut-eye before they come back or see what there is to DO around here.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Frink was analyzing stuff for Sylph - the ORIGNAL Sylph, mind you, and not a Sylphy - they would both hear the sounds of an ATV going through the hallway outside the lab, honking its horn. This was shortly followed by Willy - carrying a flamethrower - running after the soldier and shouting "IF IT'S A CHOICE BETWEEN REGULAR AND EXTRA-CRISPY, I WANT EXTRA-CRISPY!! BUUUURRRNNN!!!" and other profane threats and such. A passing Scribe - seeing this - signed and remarked that Section 2 was quieter. Frink, you haven't been discovered yet, but eventually, someone will...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
At last, Lucy Black was going home, talking with and escorting Kristin on the way. She was out of the picture, for now, though there maybe a time in the future when she will be needed again. Only time will tell. When she got back into the area, she might hear talk of the battle of the Garys and the Sylphys that involved a girl with pink hair and horns. She would probably also hear about Larry Hatchet walking off with a talking Deathclaw. However, those things weren't her problem right now. Lucy was going back to her LIFE. What she did not know was...the full extent of Jack's influence on the matter.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Back at the Enclave base, Number One's domicile... Number One got a call from Jack, who was busy repairing the damage to his Stinger-chopper.
"Yes, Jack? Oh? Ouch. But the mission WAS completed, correct? Good. So, back to the daughter of Black, then- What? Fought it out, did you? Okay, then what? I see... Yes, I think we can put her on the Retired list. It's not like Isaac succeeded in screwing us up or anything. Hmmm? You want what? No shit? Oh...alright. I'll let you get back to fixing your ride, then."
Five minutes later, a pair of soldiers came to a rather familiar room, the one that a certain wildly-evolved Deathclaw-being had been visiting from time to time. They stopped before the carbonite slab with an undertaker frozen into it and loaded it onto the cart.
#88: You sure he wanted this guy revitalized, no strings attached or nothing?
#55: Hey, if that's what Number One wants, that's what Number One gets.
With the closing of Chapter Black, we demand the return of Shifty McGee!
