The REALLY Wild Wasteland. (The Fallout RP!)

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands: Rivet City Market

Just as they had before on his previous visits to Rivet City, people kept a respectful distance from the Former Undertaker of the East. This suited him fine since he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone nor was it his profession anymore to ask the residence of the sea going scow turned slum if they had taken the time to think about their future plans when it came to the fragile bag of flash they called a body once they had passed. No, he was there for one purpose and one purpose alone, drinking.

Having scavenged several handfuls of caps off of the meaty green tinged pulps of flesh that the Sylphees had left behind in the Wastes outside of Rivet City, the Formerly friendly neighborhood Undertaker had purchased a couple bottles of some sort of gut rot that passed for alcohol before sitting back and ignoring the people that avoided being blatant in their stares at him. Having already polished off a bottle of what tasted like a cross between fermented mushrooms and a fermented old boot, Thomas was already one and a half sheets to the wind.

The old and well worn jukebox in the corner of the cesspit of a bar played dead air for a moment as the previous song stopped before moving on to the next track which, unfortunately for the jukebox, was a song that Thomas was attempting to erase from his mind.


Hearing the song, the formerly friendly and now quite angry ex-Undertaker, stood up, his legs wobbling beneath him as he steadied himself and gave the unlucky jukebox a cold glare as he inhaled deeply before unleashing a giant expletive upon the machine:

[HEADING=2][color]"FUCK YOU!!!"[/color][/HEADING]

Seeing that Thomas' righteous anger (at least in his eyes) was having no effect on getting the infernal machine to cease playing that infernal song, the Tall, Pale and decidedly Drunk man pulled out his firearm.

*BAM!* screamed the 10mm pistol, causing the formerly gawking inhabitants of the bar to jump for cover as Thomas fired a bullet into the guts of the jukebox, causing the song to come to a screeching halt. Unsatisfied with shooting the music machine just once, Thomas fired again and again and again.

*BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!* -click- -click- -click- -click-

Ejecting the spent magazine, Thomas jammed fresh one into the Milly before noticing a number of hostile eyes looking at him. It appeared that the inhabitants of the bar didn't particularly like the fact that their sole source of music had been shot repeatedly by the drunken Thomas McGee.

"(Best get out of here)" Thomas decided as he headed out the exit, attempting to look as casual as possible as a couple of Rivet City's finest passed him without a sideways glance. Deep in the bowels of the ship and deep in his own inebriation, the Former Undertaker's sense of direction failed him as he burst through a door and found himself interrupting a meeting.

"Pardon me," Thomas managed to slur to the man and the ghoul before falling flat on his face and passing out.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona​

The man talking patiently waited for Arizona to finish her peace before speaking.

"Mr. Bloom does not expect that you'll overthrow a cult all on your own and you're not required to do so. Should an opportunity arise to either save ghouls en masse from themselves or defeat the cult swiftly, he will pay double. Mostly, though, this is about finding the means TO either save the cultists or defeat the cult. Either way, what's preferred out of this is proof of the creature, and hopefully a way to defeat it. Bidding starts at ten thousand caps."

Morgan Bloom throwing down ten thousand caps meant that the job was important enough and he had faith in the skills enough, but was she interested...?

The moment that he mentioned the amount of caps this Mr. Bloom was willing to pay for this job, it took all of her self-restraint to only quirk a brow instead of gaping at them. Ten thousand caps? That was more than ten times what she had on her now, and that was more than enough to open up some investment opportunities, or even set her up for future retirement. It was also all-too tempting. That amount of money was enough to make most people turn off their brain out of greed.

[sub]"FUCK YOU!!!"[/sub]

She was thankfully saved from making a decision right then by a scream and the sound of gunshots. Quite a lot of gunshots. She whirled around to the doorway, hand on Lester's trigger just in case.

The door burst open as a staggering drunk weaved in, looking worse for wear. He took one look at them and realized that he had made a mistake.

"Pardon me."

Then he promptly fell and passed out in front of them. The ghoul could only sigh as she lowered her light machine gun, knelt down, and picked up the drunkard by the front of his shirt and shook him once to try and wake him. And that was enough to tell her that shaking and slaps in the face just wasn't going to cut it.

"Do you have any water? Doesn't matter if it's clean or dirty, just so long as it's wet and there's plenty of it." she said, turning to Mr. Blooms reps with a bland expression.

Naturally, these men had fresh water. They were, after all, workiing for a rich man and weren't even that far from Project Purity. One of them wordlessly handed her a water bottle as several irate and pissed off Rivet Citizens gathered.

Arizona snatched it up, ignoring the sounds of other voices started to get closer. And angrier. Instead, she lifted the unconscious drunk, tipped his head back, and dumped the water unceremoniously onto his face and into his open mouth. Tossing the empty bottle aside, she gave his cheeks a few sharp slaps for good measure.

"Hey. Wake up." she snapped, her mouth twisted into a scowl.

Then she looked up at the several citizens of Rivet City as they approached.

"And just what might be your problem?" she asked.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands: Rivet City - A Place for [small]not so[/small] Secret Meetings
- Thomas Makes a Friend... sort of

*SLOOOSH!!!! SLOOOSH!!!! SLOOOSH!!!!*

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that this is yet another one of those incredibly well written posts about the blue haired, crimson wearing young woman that is a walking talking natural disaster what with the SLOOOSHING and the SLAPPING and what not, or you're thinking that maybe you've wandered in to witness a BDSM scene involving Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 but rest assured, this is neither of the previously listed things. When we last left the Former Undertaker of the East, Thomas had landed face first on the floor after busting up some sort of meeting between the ghoul, Arizona and Morgan Bloom... not that he remembers any of that mind you. In fact, were you to ask the Friendly Former Undertaker, he more than likely wouldn't have remembered anything after entering the borders of Rivet City. You see, Thomas McGee had been chugging every bottle of alcohol that he could get his hands on as an attempt to drown his sorrows. Unfortunately, his sorrows were proving to be rather buoyant.

*SLOOOSH!!!! SLOOOSH!!!! SLOOOSH!!!!*

"(Someone must have gotten tired of my boorish inebriated antics)" Thomas sober thoughts bubbled up from the well of unconsciousness that he had thrown himself into, "(Maybe they're trying to drown me and I'm about to 'sleep with the Mirelurks.' Was that how that saying went?)"

It was at this moment that the man who had lost so much and checked out on life was pulled back into reality... sort of.

"Hey[sub]hey[sub]hey[sub]hey[/sub][/sub][/sub]. Wake up[sub]up[sub]up[sub]up[/sub][/sub][/sub]." Urged a voice that sounded like it was the lead vocalist for the choir of Angels.

"(Oh Lord Walt. Hast thou come to save thy wretched servant from this life? Hast thou come to hold thy son against thy breast? Is this one of the servant Angels that thou hast sent for thine son, an Angel whose voice shall forever sing the sacred hymn 'It's a Small World?!'")

Yeah... In case any of you missed it, Thomas has a rather interesting religion, one that revolves around Disney Land. Back to the show... and the slapping.

*SLAP!!! SLAP!!! SLAP!!!*

The flurry of slaps to Thomas' face started the unusually tall and unusually pale young man on a path towards rethinking that perhaps he wasn't quite dead yet. But what about the Angel that he had heard? Where was she? Why was Lord Walt's servant allowing Thomas to be manhandled so?

"And just what might be your problem?" Asked the Angel whom Thomas had yet to lay his unworthy eyes upon. Was she addressing the person who was continuing to assault the poor drunken soul?

"He shot out jukebox!"
"He ruined my date!"
"He made me spill my drink!

"N... now...wait... jushhh a minute." Thomas sputtered as he tried, and failed miserably, to pick himself up off of the ground or wall or ceiling or whatever it was that he was laying on. It was damn near impossible to tell with the room spinning the way it was, "Ah... I wush jushhht fendin' myself. Yur jukebox hur.... hur.... hurt me so I hur... hur... hurt it right back."

Ah, Shifty, such eloquent logic is bound to go right over the heads of these cretins, especially when the cretins think that you're responsible for their wasted alcohol.

"That doesn't even make sense!!! How does you disliking a song make it okay for you to shoot our jukebox?!"

See?

"I...I don haff to splain myself." Thomas continued, shutting the debate down with not only his words but by pulling out his pistol once again, "D... don't chu know who I am? I... I don haff to wait fur you to die 'fore I bury you."

So that was the scene, we've got Thomas McGee waving his pistol about like an orchestra conductor, Arizona behind him with Morgan Bloom and Co and a mob of pissed off Rivet City Citizens who've had a few shots too many themselves. What's a ghoul to do?!

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona​

As the drunkard slowly came to, the Ghoul focused on the Rivet City locals as they told her just what was the matter. As it turned out, the man hanging limply in her arms had not only been responsible for the gunshots she had heard earlier, but those gunshots were the sound of him plugging a few rounds into the jukebox in the bar. The fact that he also ruined a date, and caused someone else to spill their drink was the icing on the metaphorical Fancy Lad's Snack Cake.

She instantly sympathized with them wanting to lynch him, or whatever it was they wanted to do to him, because quite frankly, a bar without a working jukebox was just sad and pathetic, and not likely to last very long.

The man took his time then to try and stagger onto his feet, and failed, all while speaking in a drunkards slur that she was all too familiar with. Thankfully, she understood exactly what he meant.

"Now wait just a minute! I was just defending myself. Your jukebox hurt me, so I hurt it right back!"

The locals seemed to understand him clear enough too, since their response was far from happy.

"That doesn't even make sense!!! How does you disliking a song make it okay for you to shoot our jukebox?!"

The drunkard reached for his pistol when he responded, causing Arizona to back away quickly. After all, drunks with guns were something else that she was familiar with, a little too much for her own liking.

"I don't have to explain myself! Don't you know who I am? I don't have to wait before I bury you..."

She rolled her one eye before reaching over and grabbing the wrist that held the pistol to hold it still, and keep it pointed at the ceiling. The entire situation seemed to be a powder keg... But since it seemed that this man was a local himself, or so she assumed, maybe she could turn this to her advantage.

"Careful with that, hoss. Now, while I'm inclined to hand you to these fine people for breaking an innocent jukebox, but I'm new to D.C., you could even say I'm somethin' of a tourist. That means I need a guide, and if you know your way around the wastes, I'd be willing to keep you safe from the locals, while you show me where I need to go. Sound good?" she asked smoothly, a slow smile spreading on her wrinkled lips.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands: Rivet City - A Place for [small]not so[/small] Secret Meetings

A gentle yet firm hand wrapped itself around Thomas' wrist, steadying it before he was allowed to self destruct under a torrent of fists, boots and firearms. It seemed that someone else had designs for the Former Undertaker, ones that likely contradicted his current inclinations towards finding bottles of liquor and emptying said bottles. Looking at the hand that grasped his, Thomas could tell, even through the alcohol induced haze, that it didn't belong to the angelic being that he thought had spoken to him just moments ago. He didn't need to look behind him to tell that the hand belonged to one of the long lived ones, beings that the Undertakers were taught to respect for despite their cursed appearance, they had found a way to cheat death.

"Careful with that, hoss. Now, while I'm inclined to hand you to these fine people for breaking an innocent jukebox, but I'm new to D.C., you could even say I'm somethin' of a tourist. That means I need a guide, and if you know your way around the wastes, I'd be willing to keep you safe from the locals, while you show me where I need to go. Sound good?"

The Friendly Neighborhood Former Undertaker opened his mouth to argue with the Ghoul and yet, Thomas had enough will power to simply bite his tongue rather than engage himself in what would be a wasted war of words. Observing the Ancient one, Thomas noted the Light Machine Gun and the supplies that she carried with her, his experience telling him that where ever her destination, it was likely to be dangerous, more so than the situation that he now found himself in.

Twisting his wrist, he broke the Old One's hold on his wrist and used the barrel of his pistol to scratch his temple, putting more thought into whether he would help this stranger or continue on his binge of boot flavored booze. After a few moments of the local yokels staring at Thomas, wondering if they were about to get sprayed by brain matter, Thomas looked back to Arizona and answered.

"Deal. I'll be your guide to where ever it is that you need to go, Old One, though it'll be for my own reasons and not for your protection against the citizenry of Rivet City." The Former Undertaker replied as he pulled the trigger on the still-pressed-against-his-temple pistol.

*CLICK*

Apparently someone might have forgotten to chamber a round... or did they.

"My name is Shif... Thomas. Thomas McGee."

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona​

After she made her offer, Arizona could see that the man had to mull it over some as he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it in thought. So she just gazed at him placidly, ignoring the citizens of Rivet City as he looked her over. But the look on her face shifted to one of uncertainty as he pulled his hand out of hers, and scratched his head with the barrel of his 10mm.

This man is an idiot, she thought, especially since she took notice that the locals started to back away in anticipation of him blowing his own head off. But he seemed to come to a decision before too long.

"Deal. I'll be your guide to where ever it is that you need to go, Old One, though it'll be for my own reasons and not for your protection against the citizenry of Rivet City."

Then he promptly pulled the trigger on his pistol, and she heard the telltale click of an empty chamber. That was enough to make her raise her eyebrow in interest. Maybe this man wasn't an idiot after all, and was more aware than he seemed despite being drunk. Or maybe he simply didn't care one way or another. Regardless, she stood and nodded.

"Good man. Hold on for one second." she told him, before turning to Mr. Bloom's representatives.

She held out a hand for them to shake and smiled sharply. It wasn't an expression that could be described as friendly.

"I'll take the job. Where should I meet you, or this Mr. Bloom, when I'm done?" she asked.

The lead man nodded and made a note of job acceptance under the opening terms and so on.

"Mr. Bloom tends to move around a bit, but in general he is in the area of the DC Ruins. You know... Rivet City, the Ghoul Underworld, The Citadel - that kind of thing. Good luck."

The handshake was short and firm, and once the deal was done, Arizona turned back to her new companion.

"My name is Shif... Thomas. Thomas McGee."

She nodded, then offered a hand to help him on his feet.

"Arizona. So, lets start by making our way to the Dunwich Building. I have business there." she said, jabbing a thumb at Mr. Bloom's reps, before glancing at the still-lingering locals.

"Alright folks, move along. Can't exactly let you beat up or kill my new guide after all, so you'd best get back to the bar. You don't want trouble." she told them firmly, hefting Lester and motioning with his barrel for them to leave.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands: Rivet City - A Place for [small]not so[/small] Secret Meetings

"So, lets start by making our way to the Dunwich Building. I have business there." Said the Old One before waving off the Rivet City Citizenry with a wave of her light machine gun. The citizens, disappointed with the lack of a suicide show, were all too happy to wander off to their homes, jobs, lives and loved ones. Thomas, on the other hand, was having second thoughts about agreeing to assist the Old One on her errand. There were worse places that he would have sooner escorted her to than the old Dunwich Building, among them were Niveral Studos and Magic Moutin.

It wasn't that the former Undertaker was afraid of the old Dunwich Building or its occupants, there was a sense of pride crushing failure that he associated with the building. He had never ever been able to make a sale in that area. The buildings occupants, Ancient Ones that had been alive for so long they had lost their minds, would have rather torn Thomas' limbs off and beat him to death with them than purchase one of his burial packages and when he did have to defend himself, the Ancient Ones never had enough on them to cover the cost of services. In the end, he had to leave their still rotting corpses where they lay, lest he eat the expense of making their coffins and burial services.

Still, he had agreed to become the Old One's guide though there was never an agreement to do so sober.

"If you'll give me a moment to collect my gear, Old One, I'll be right back," The Tall and Pale man said as he staggered off in the direction of the now empty bar. With its musical distraction and diversion a smoking wreck, the bar was empty and the owner was in the process of cleaning the mess that Thomas was partially responsible for.

Seeing the source her troubles walking back into her establishment, Belle Bonny rushed to her bar, grabbing an assault rifle that looked right at home in a place called the Muddy Rudder. Her actions were halted though with the sounds of caps being dropped on the bar, more than enough to get her jukebox repaired. Looking up at the Pale Man, a stern look etched on his face, he told her what the remainder of the caps were for.

"I think you've had enough." Belle Bonny said, not wanting another incident in her bar so soon after the last.

"It's for the road. Same with that assault rifle if you'll part ways with it... or I could simply continue staring into the Mesmerizing eyes of the Muddy Rudder's owner until the Bomb fall from the sky again." Thomas stated with a smile on his face.

"Take it. Take it and go." Belle Bonny said turning away from the Former Undertaker. Sure it had been a while since she had felt the touch of a man but she'd sooner lay with a Death Claw than an Undertaker.

Defeated, the Thomas McGee walked out of the bar with his booze stash in a bag and the rifle in hand, reuniting with the Old One 10 minutes after he had left her.

"I've settled my bar tab all set to get you to Dunwich. However, If you're so inclined, there are much more scenic places to get killed that are far closer than the Dunwich Building. Paradise Falls or Minefield perhaps?" Thomas said amiably as he waited for the Old One's go ahead, "I hear the Talon Company Compound is nice this time of year."

Clearly he was being one sarcastic ass.

 

[Drummodino]

Citadel Outskirts

PEW PEW PEW!!

"GRRAAAaaaa....."

The Mirelurk that had cracked Sylphee over the head screamed its death cry as it received several laser pistol shots to the face from point blank range. Buchanan had been so bemused by the blue haired girl's strange behaviour that he had not even noticed the encroaching mirelurks until they were right on top of them. Blocking an incoming claw with his chainsaw fist before felling it with a kick to the knee, he called out to Charlie.

"Boy! Let's get out of here!" he yelled, running over to the prone girl. Holstering his pistol he grabbed the girl under one arm and pointed to the nearby ruins. "Make for there, we can lose them in the alleys!

Firing his own laser pistol (and missing nine out of ten shots), Charlie turned. "Right behind you sir!" Chasing after the older man he spotted the dropped choker, scooping it up as he passed. The mirelurks hot on their tail, the odd trio fled the river and its horde of deranged crustaceans.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona​

The moment she mentioned the Dunwich Building, Thomas seemed to look concerned, like he was beginning to second-guess the brand new partnership they had. But even as she watched him consider it for a moment, he seemed to decide that he may as well honor the bargain.

"If you'll give me a moment to collect my gear, Old One, I'll be right back."

Arizona promptly screwed up her face in a mixture of confusion and insult. Old One? As he turned to walk away, all she could think of was the fact that this 'Old One' title was going to have to stop real quick, or else their partnership was going to get irritating faster than she'd like.

But, she waited patiently, finishing off her cigarette and crossing her arms, even as Mr. Blooms representative's got ready to leave for their next assignment. They had already left when Thomas came back not ten minutes later, and by that point she was already on another cigarette, having crushed the first underneath her boot. She noticed he had a bag in one hand and an assault rifle in the other, and it was in poor condition if she was any judge.

"I've settled my bar tab all set to get you to Dunwich. However, If you're so inclined, there are much more scenic places to get killed that are far closer than the Dunwich Building. Paradise Falls or Minefield perhaps? I hear the Talon Company Compound is nice this time of year."

With a quirk of her brow, Arizona slowly smiled around her cigarette.

"A smartass, huh? I like that." she said before blowing out a thin trail of smoke.

"Nope, not unless any of those places are on the way to Dunwich. But two things first: The 'Old One' shit? That's gotta stop, or it'll drive me nuts. And once we have a chance to stop and rest, I'm gonna need to look at that rifle. If you think I'm going to have you cover my ass without making sure it's in decent condition, you've got another think coming." she told him.

Then she motioned him to follow her as she made her way out and into the halls of Rivet City.

"By the way, what's wrong with this Paradise Falls place? Sounds like a vacation spot." she added with a wry smirk as she glanced back at him.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wasteland: Citadel Outskirts

Despite being carried upside down and being jostled around more than a baby stuck in a paint mixer, the Blue Haired Menace to society at large was able to get a read on the situation. This having been her primary means of transport in her formative years, she could tell that the Charlie Cannon and Knight Captain Buchanan were running through a series of alleys in an attempt to allude their pursuers.

Having stated that, it should be noted that Mirelurks do not, as a general rule, venture fall from the water. Between the heavy armored exoskeleton and the sun's rays turning said exoskeletons into large wearable solar ovens, the walking crabby patties tended to stick with their survival instinct and stay in the water.

There are, however, exceptions to the rule. It appeared that Sylph's more wantonly happy half had offended the Mirelurk Queen quite a bit as was evidenced by the mob(?) of Mirelurks still in hot pursuit. If these gaggle of Mirelurks could sweat, Sylph was sure they would have since it appeared to be sometime around noon when the sun was at its highest and the day was at its hottest. More than a few members of the Mirelurk Pod dropped to the ground mid run as their tender insides become something best enjoyed with a small bowl of lemon butter and perhaps a bib.

The smell of freshly steamed Mirelurk meat was bound to draw the wrong attention if something didn't happen soon.

*pew pew pew*

*RUMBLE! RUMBLE! RUMBLE!*

*CRASH! BOOM! SPLORCH!!!!*

That would be the upper portions of the alleyway crushing the pursuing Mirelurks and sending their tender, flaky meaty-bits flying all thanks to Sylph's timely use of a laser pistol borrowed from Knight Captain Buchanan.

"You can set me down now." Sylph's unnervingly calm voice said as Knight Captain Buchanan and Charlie Cannon continued to run, "The Mirelurks have stopped chasing us."

Which was mostly true. Mostly.

"Nooooooo! My beautiful ladies! *Sluuuuurp! Chomp!* Those damn apes will *Gobble gobble gobble* regret messing with Professor Zoidberg The Mirelurk Emperor. WHOO! WHOO! WHOOWHOOP! WHOO! WHOO! WHOOWHOOP!"

[hr]

Somewhere between Dunwich and Rivet City

Thomas wasn't used to travelling the Wasted on foot. He used to have a bicycle and it was a thing of beauty. All spray can matte black. Vintage brahmin leather seat. Shock absorbers that actually absorbed shock rather than exist solely as a 10 pound decoration. A bell that went *Ching ching! What happened to it? Oh yes. Frank. Frank happened. Still, if the former Undertaker was going to be forced out of the bottom most levels of Rivet city and out into the oppressive sun, he figured that it was best with someone that gave it to him straight and someone that he would more that likely not be required to bury at a later date, since he would probably be dead as well.

Having an Old One as a traveling companion wasn't as bad as one may have assumed. There was no decaying or burnt smell. It was more like a finely polished leather. She spoke in a manner that put her personality on display, something that Thomas could not say of himself at one time or another. Plus the sight of someone dressed like someone that buried the dead walking with one that appeared to have been dug up from the dead gave the Former Friendly Neighborhood Undertaker all the privacy he wanted.

Speaking of which, the Old One was speaking to him.

"Nope, not unless any of those places are on the way to Dunwich. But two things first: The 'Old One' shit? That's gotta stop, or it'll drive me nuts. And once we have a chance to stop and rest, I'm gonna need to look at that rifle. If you think I'm going to have you cover my ass without making sure it's in decent condition, you've got another think coming." The Old One stated to him as they crossed the Rivet City bridge.

"I'm sorry about calling you that, ma'am. I can see why you might not be too comfortable with being called 'Old One,' but it's how my pa referred to you people, Ma'am. He has a lot of respect for you and says that you're Walt's chosen. Those who lived long enough see who was worthy of going upstairs and who was worthy of being sent to, feh, Knott's. I hope that you didn't take any offense to the term, ma'am. Among my... family... those who can avoid giving death its due are to be revered, just as Lord Walt was able to cheat death by placing himself in cryogenic suspension, ma'am." Thomas stated simply as the crossed the bridge's midway pooint.

"And speaking of my rifle, why not look at it now, ma'am?" Thomas asked as he dropped depressed the rifle's magazine release and almost caught the clip before it hit the ground, bounced off the ground and flew off into the water.

"Oops." Former Undertaker McGee said as he pulled the charging handle and caught the single chambered round, this time before it hit the ground before handing the rifle to Arizona.

"Carrying that thing keeps me from my true calling, anyways." The man said as he reached into his bag and pulled out one of the many bottles he'd purchased. The mention of Paradise Falls seemed to have triggered something in the man formerly stuck in the family business as he took a long drink from the bottle.

*GLUG! GLUG! GLUG!*

"As for Paradise Falls... feh."

 

[The Harkinator]

"Scribe Explodium? Are you in here?" Enquired William, tentatively putting his head around the scorched door where said madwoman was supposed to reside.

BOOM

Yep, this room was where Scribe Explodium was. You could tell because things were exploding. There was an Enclave flatpack cage that would normally have held a deathclaw in it at one end of the room with various sets of Power Armour stood up inside it. The Tesla Armour was on fire just a bit. As for the orchestrator of all this destruction, Scribe Explodium was busy writing some notes from the latest experiment. Except, Scribe Explodium wasn't a woman, he was a middle aged man with glasses.

"A-ha!I'll be with you in a moment, I just have to record these results... for science dear boy!" Said Scribe Explodium. William tentatively entered the room as Scribe Explodium finished the notes.

"Thanks, er... why did the other scribes refer to you as she? Because they were quite clear on that bit."

Oh that's just their way of having a joke. I'm new here so I can only assume this is part of an initiation ritual. Social structures within the Brotherhood of Steel are of a complex nature. I'm not actually a scribe you see, I'm a scientist!" Explodium put extra emphasis on this last word, clearly some point of pride. "You see, as I said I'm new, just what the Brotherhood needs really but I don't like to boast about my vast genius. Except I was explaining to these buffoons about a past experiment of mine involving the manipulation of ant DNA, the experiment didn't actually work come to think of it but that's beside the point. I might have mentioned an Ant Queen one too many times and the nickname stuck. They call me the Ant Queen because they say I'm always bugging people. Bah! I'll blind them with science, or at least this new compound I'm working on that blinds dogs if you feed it to them for six months."

"Ant DNA, Ant Queens, you're that guy who torched Grayditch aren't you?" Accused William, confident that Scribe Explodium was actually Doctor Lesko, the idiot that had turned a bunch of giant ants into giant firebreathing ants. Until the Lone Wanderer showed up in town and destroyed all the specimens, the kid at the Weatherley Hotel, Bryan Wilks used to talk about it all the time.

"I SIMPLY GOT CARRIED AWAY AND SKIPPED TESTING IN A CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENT!!" Snapped Lesko, still hurt from his failure of years ago. "Spit it out ignorant one, you clearly need my scientific wonder for something or you would not be here.... nobody ever comes here..." muttered Lesko, now tired of William and his mention of Grayditch.

"Yes doc, I need you to take something from me, you can keep it afterwards if you really want, for science." William pointed to the collar around his neck.

"Really?" Lesko perked up at this, the mention of science put a smile on his face. "Of course my boy, I'll help you. For science."

===============

Right around the corner from MGB "Ok gentlemen, right around this corner is the greatest thing ever that you could imagine." Said Evan, grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of having a go at the canned colossus. What wonder lay inside? The mind boggles.

Dudley's mind was boggling, mostly with the possibility that this big metal monster would stomp them in a second. "You sure about this?"

Evan grinned a little more, if such a thing were possible, "Nope, but I wouldn't miss this for the world. Now I have a plan, so listen up."

===============

*phew* It felt good to have that collar off at long last, a weight from Williams neck had been lifted and a mental burden was gone from his shoulders. Lesko had removed the thing in an instant, the man was a genius, just one that shouted it from the rooftops at every given moment.

Now I have removed the item in question, and I presume I may use it for my research? You relinquish all ownership of the item?

"Yes of course doc, I never want to see that thing again unless it's to see it destroyed without hurting anyone." Said William, a smile creeping onto his face as for the first time in a few days he felt really free, probably because his head wasn't about to be blown from his neck.

"Wait around a moment more and I'll do just that. Now then, I've never actually recorded what one of these would do to Power Armour. Hmmm, I think the Tesla Armour would wear it best." Said Lesko, attaching the collar to said Tesla Armour and bashing part of it with a rock. He then ran back to his console before throwing the rock at the collar again. One more hit blew it up and crumpled the neck of the Tesla suit.

"Very interesting results, it appears that the explosion, powerful as it was, was unable to pierce the armour. It did of course crush it in such a way that would suffocate the wearer of this thing and cause an even more painful death. If you brought me more of these I'd like to try the results on other armour suits." Enthused Lesko, happy at the prospect of more explosions. William wondered if there weren't a few marbles missing in that brain, or if he would have allowed Lesko to remove the collar if there wasn't a touch of madness about him. A perfectly sane scientist would probably have triggered the bomb when disarming the remote detonation mechanism.

"No doc, I'm sure you'd pay well and it would benefit science... but I really never want to see another one of these fucking things for my entire life. Nice to meet you, goodbye!" Said William, backing out of the door and into the hall. Evan and Dudley were somewhere in the DC Ruins, chasing a giant robot. That sounded like a fun adventure to have.

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

Lucy: Springvale​

"Thanks Dad..."

Lucy smiled softly as the lights flickered to life, allowing her to replace the floor tile which hid the energy cell power generator. One of her father's inventions which was created primarily for Lucy to read well into the evenings when she was younger.

Lucy, while waiting for a dinner promised by Kristin, started to strip the damaged armor from her body in front of a full-length mirror in her room. Content with a moment of privacy, she started to survey the damage that her travels had incurred.

New and unfamiliar scrapes, scratches and ugly bruises were discovered on her legs, lower back and shoulders. Yet one detail had her bitterly clutching the black eyepatch once more - her left eye was red, or more accurately, the iris was red. This was in stark contrast to her natural blue.

Lucy applied the eyepatch once more.
Today was an emotional day, that being the biggest understatement of her life, and she wasn't quite sure how to deal with any permanent physical changes that her journey might have incurred just yet.

After giving her hair a good scrub in the basin, Lucy wore one of the few articles of clothing that wasn't some form of armor - a ridiculous black & white polkadot dress. It clashed with her boots, but -

"Miss Lucy! Dinner may be late. I am preparing for three!"

What?

Grabbing her hunting rifle, the One-eyed rifle girl headed outside.

[hr]

Kristin: Yum-Yums​

Kristin had great fun cleaning her acolyte's house for the day. At some point, a broken toaster was used for bumper sword baseball...

While Lucy had requested some privacy. Kristin took her dinner preparations outside, her mini-microwave whirring and beeping along with her humming. She had settled for a large plate full of BlamCo pies which contained pieces of salisbury steak which oozed with delicious white cheese. Topped with a white cheese smiley face and unique spices for each pie. Kristin sought to dessert, BlamCo cupcakes -

"Hulloooo! I'm lukin fer... eh..."

Kristin turned to find the source of interruption. Oh! There in the distance...

"...Ishmael! I'm lukin fer Ishamael... Black..."

...a lonely hobo had made his presence known. Kristin knew that he was a hobo, not only had he dressed as such, but he had adopted their vague mouth-words speech pattern. She had spent countless times feeding the impoverished, although sadly she had rarely seen the same face twice after a new recipe. She wondered why that happened...more importantly:

A potential acolyte, this one might have ties to street rats, thugs and gang members. Men and women of opportunity who's belly's ached for something to munch on during vandalism and thievery!

Kristin would find a way to this hobo's heart, down his throat and through his colon!

Carrying a small plate with a single pie and her bumper sword in each hand, Kristin strolled over to the collapsed hobo. This wasn't the first time someone had collapsed after one whiff of her food.

"To answer your question: 'Is their mail back?', I must regretfully inform you that we have only recently moved in. Are you, by any chance, the postman?"

Kristin proceeded to gently prod the man in the side with her bumper sword.

"Hey, Mr Postman, get up!" Kristin chirped as her perkometer (perky meter) suddenly spiked when she laid the plate on the ground for him. "Why don't you join us for a complimentary dinner, hosted by the BlamCo heiress herself?!"

Almost on cue, the nearby house lit up brightly from the inside and Kristin proceeded to walk back to her dessert preparations before they grew cold.

"Miss Lucy! Dessert may be late. I am preparing for three!"

 

[Neuromancer]

????(?)


Jonathan woke up with a headache, which left him curious. He couldn't recall drinking enough last night to cause a hangover. Then again, he couldn't remember a thing about last night, so maybe he had drunk enough to cause a hangover. Still, it was going to be a busy day today, so he couldn't let a stupid maybe-headache-maybe-hangover get the best of him. As such, Jonathan, with the clumsiness befitting of a man that hadn't drunk as much as he wanted(or maybe had and couldn't remember it), hadn't slept as much as he wanted(debateable, but the heaviness and exhaustion he felt made him feel so) and still ended up with a hangover (which may have actually been just a headache), got out of bed and, much like how a robot set to patrol a certain route, went straight for the bathroom.

The apartment was quite spacious, with decor reminiscent of rich pre-war suites. The walls were painted in deep, blood red and the floor was dressed with ostentatiously detailed persian carpets. The bathroom followed the same motif as the rest of the apartment, with the exception that the colour of the walls were sea blue. The cold water as he washed his face was rejuvenating.

"Goddamn, I don't look so good," he though as he looked himself in the mirror. He was right. There were black circles under his eyes, his hair was messy and greasy, his stubble had grown into an unkempt, dirty semi-beard and it just dawned upon him that he had slept on his shirt and work pants. "Just what the hell was I doing last night?"

"Could use a shower," he told himself as he scratched his itchy not-beard. "And a shave. Yeah. Shower, shave and go do..."

What did he have to do? He felt a certain degree of urgency toward doing... something. Why couldn't he remember?

A heavy banging sound derailed his train of thought and filled his mind with fear and worry. What made it worse was that the sound came from inside the apartment.

From the edge of the bathroom door, Jonathan sneaked a careful peak into the rest of the apartment. There was no one to be found. Crouching, and with careful steps, he walked onwards into the room. Where did the sound come from, and what caused it?

As he looked around for the answer to these questions, he felt himself drawn to the closet, a feeling that increased as he got closer to it. Slowly, but steadily, he reached out to the handle and started opening the-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Jonathan jumped backwards onto the bed as he heard... whoever it was talk. Distraught with fear and confusion, he searched around the room with anxious, frantic stares. He pinpointed the speaker at the edge of the room, his features obscured by shadow.

"Heh, my bad. I know just how much of a scaredy-cat you are, Johnny boy. But..." In a blink of an eye, the stranger somehow moved in front of the closet and closed the barely opened door. "...you really don't wanna open it."

The stranger was strange indeed. Having a slouching posture; their clothing, duster especially, was dirty and looked worn out, and their face was completely concealed by a combo of scarf, sunglasses and cowboy hat. It all looked pretty familiar, though Jonathan couldn't quite figure why.

"Who... who are you?" Jonathan muttered in an attempt to make sense of the situation.

"Did you know," the stranger continued, moving their index finger as though emphasizing each word, "that there are skeletons in there? Don't answer that, a rhetorical question."

"Skeletons?" Jonathan replied dumbfounded, "What do you mean by- What? How can there be skeletons in my closet?"

The stranger tilted their head for a second, then put their palm on their face and sighed heavily.

"You know, it's getting really old, me having to explain this every time you come by. Yes, there are skeletons in there." They turned towards the door and put a hand on it, "Poor skeletons... They're pretty misunderstood, ya know. All they want to do is socialize..."

"But I don't think they should!" they continued briskly as they quickly made a sharp turn, facing Jonathan. "Do you? Ya see, in their thirst and anxiety to socialize, the skeletons may get a bit... overbearing. Just-won't-leave-you-be overbearing. Be exposed to them for long enough and you might go... insane."

"But... But..." Jonathan was completely at a loss of words. The situation described by the stranger was completely irrational.

"Butt? Now is hardly the time to think about that, Johnny boy."

"...How?!?"

"How? How did the skeletons end up in there?"

"How are they even alive?"

"Is alive the correct term for this case? Hmm... But to answer your question, I dunno. You brought them to life. You threw them in there."

"I... What?!? What are yo- WHAT?"

"You're kinda freaking out."

"Freaking out? FREAKING OUT?! What the hell do you expect me to do? Do you have any idea how ridiculous what you're saying sounds?"

"Ridiculous, you say? So, you don't believe me?"

"Like hell I do! You make no sense!"

"No sense..." the stranger's voice turned cold and a bit threatening. "Ridiculous... Alright, Johhny boy, if you don't believe me..." they opened the closet, "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Jonathan felt shivers go down his spine as the stranger opened the door. As they did, the walls became damaged and disrepaired, and the carpets lost their elaborate detail; it was as though the room started rapidly decaying. The inside of the closet was pitch black; literally nothing inside could be seen. What made it even worse, perhaps, was the absolutely suffocating silence.

"T-that's enough... c-close it!"

"Uh-uh. You said you don't believe me."

"No. Nonononono, I do. I really really do. Just close it, please!"

"I'm not really convinced, Johnny boy. Besides, it might do you some good! When was the last time running away solved something?"

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps could be heard coming from inside the closet.

"Yes... I think a little confrontation is just what a man like you needs..."

"Close the door... pleeeeeease!" Jonathan begged in desperation. The footsteps grew louder.

"Look at you, a grown man, crying like a baby. You could really use some backbone"

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!"

"There we go! About time you grew a spine! See? I told you this is what you needed."

The footsteps grew louder and louder... and then, nothing. Suffocating silence again. Jonathan, sweating harder than a turkey before Thanksgiving, stood completely still, his eyes completely hooked to the vast nothingness of the closet. Time passed, and as it did, so did his fear.

And then, it leaped on him, and-


Springvale. Probably.

Jonathan woke with dirt in his mouth. He hoped this wasn't going to become frequent. His side was in pain, as though someone had swung a club at it.

"Hey, Mr Postman, get up!"

The words exploded in his ears like grenades. Just who in the hells was shouting at him? He was too weak to move his head to look, so all he could do was try and recollect what had happened.

"I was... looking for Isaac... Springvale... knight wannabe..."

Could it be the lady knight? How long was he passed out?

As he continued to brainstorm, his suspicions turned out to be correct. A hand wearing shiny armour moved into his view, blinding him thanks to the sun being reflected right into his eyes. When his vision returned the first thing he saw was...

Heaven. In the form of a slice of pie. The smell completely enthralled Jonathan. He thought he heard the what-was-her say something before she headed back towards oblivion. Or wherever it was she came from- It didn't matter! What mattered was the slice. The slice extends life. The slice expands consciousness. He who controls the slice controls the universe.

It glowed from the sheer magnitude of the power resonating from it. Or the radioactivity. Maybe the glow was a hallucination- It. Didn't. Matter. He had to get the slice!

He reached his hand out to grab it, but alas! It was too far away. The cursed knight-pretender-wannabe was taunting him, placing it just out of his reach! A thousand poxes upon her!

No, no, no. It was a test. The slice would not allow itself to be eaten by just anyone! It needed a champion, a man that would not falter at the face of adversity! And Jonathan was! that! man!

With the new-found strength gained from his conviction, Jonathan dragged himself towards the pie. When he reached the plate, he raised his head over the slice, breathing in its divine fragrance. He wasn't just going to devour the slice. He was going to savour it.

The time had come. The culmination of all his labours lead to this: The pie slice was within his grasp, he, its most recognized and revered champion. He opened his mouth, ready to become one with it and transcend this pitiful, limited existence and...

Passed out on it.

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

Kristin - Springvale: Feeding the homeless!​

*beeeep!* *foooomp!*

Kristin's Limited Edition BlamCo Mini-Microwave comically produced the first batch of mini-cheesecakes. The cakes were spewed from a chimney-like extension and landed as gracefully as any cake would, on a large plate for dessert. Proud that her cake babies were looking beautiful and edible, Kristin whimsically turned on her heel to announce that preparations were complete.

*splaaaaat*

Her declaration would have to wait, for the unwashed and quite frankly ungrateful hobo had smashed her gift with his face. This indiscretion will simply not do! Kristin marched over to the hobo postman/woman, knelt by his/her side and proceeded to grope at his/her chest. As Kristin pawed at the undoubtedly flat-chested unperky nipples of the the now-confirmed male, she sighed and shook her head.

"Oh dear." Kristin put a palm to her face and applied a single smear of cheese to his forehead. "You are merely misguided, breastless one. I have no doubt that you were overwhelmed by the Milky One's offering."

Now let it be said that Kristin was not angry, she was just disappointed with the newcomer. Let it also be said that Kristin has gone toe-to-toe with a Super Mutant, hence why she could do the following: Without a second thought, Kristin had hauled the barely conscious body over her shoulder and stomped her way back to the table.

On the way, her vocal inflections shifted from sweet and motherly to downright indignant at the hobo-postman's wasteful display.
"Regardless...your flapping mouth jaw has been graced with dairy of the holiest variety! Do the denizens of the Capital Wasteland feast with their foreheads!? Answer not the question, but redeem your soul with proper manners instead!"

Comically, Kristin had propped the hobo-postman in a comfortable yet weathered armchair at the edge of the table. Lucy and Kristin had made arrangements to feast outside to celebrate the dawn of a new day.

"You have 10 seconds to explain before I make - !"

"Oh! Miss Black! No no, no fireworks will be required. As you can see, we have a guest and our feast is ready! So please, take a seat."

Lucy Black had exited the house brandishing her shiny hunting rifle, wearing a black eyepatch and a withering glare. This would usually be an intimidating combo, although the effect was unfortunately diminished by the addition of a frankly adorable polkadot dress and an uneven handling of said weapon. Cautiously, the foul-tempered woman had taken a seat at the head of the table while Kristin fussed over plates and minor smiley-face cheese decorations.

"Who is he?" Lucy growled unflinchingly without taking an eye off of the guest.

"He seems..." Kristin delicately cut open one of the pies and liberally sprinkled lemon-flavored mentats to offset the bitterness of the healing powder into the mix. "...to be the Springvale Postman. He mumbled something about 'Spring Male Nights' and such. One of your Lady Magazines, I presume? You need not worry, I won't judge."

Kristin cut a bite-sized piece of the powder-pie and shovelled it into the mouth of the newcomer, comically making him chew in process. It was rude to sleep at the table! The powder-addled pie was bound to jolt a person awake or - well she had forgotten the rest!

"Or wait!" Kristin clapped her hands together enthusiastically, failing to check if the newcomer had properly swallowed. "Is there a Springvale strip club?! We simply must spread the goodwill of BlamCo through a promotional catering event!"

"...I'm going to ignore most of that." Lucy's glare had wavered somewhat, to an outsider like her, this had probably looked like a dramatised poisoning. "Shouldn't you be a little more careful?"

"BlamCo is the ultimate science! The healing powder and dash of lemon mentats will alleviate this man's fatigue and he will be full of vim and vigor. His body will be restored..."

Kristin took a seat across from the half-conscious newcomer, brushed her unnaturally long silver hair aside, puffed out her chest, took a deep breath, grinned and spread her arms with a great deal of enthusiasm.

With stacks of BlamCo pies and BlamCo cupcakes on two large plates and Kristin in the middle, this almost seemed deliberately planned.

"Now...allow our souls to be bound by the grace of our Grand Cream Overseer for one more day!"

 

[Neuromancer]

????(!?)

Jonathan woke up with a headache, which left him curious. He couldn't recall drinking enough last night to cause a hangover. Then again, he couldn't remember a thing about last night, so maybe he had drunk enough to cause a hangover. Still, it was going to be a busy day today, so he couldn't let a stupid maybe-headache-maybe-hangover get the best of him. As such, Jonathan, with the clumsiness befitting of a man that hadn't drunk as much as he wanted(or maybe had and couldn't remember it), hadn't slept as much as he wanted(debateable, but the heaviness and exhaustion he felt made him feel so) and still ended up with a hangover (which may have actually been just a headache), got out of bed. An extremely squeaky bed. He didn't remember it being so, or at least as much. Curious, indeed. Whatever the case, Jonathan made a mental note to go buy a new one ASAP and, much like a robot set to patrol a certain route, went straight for the bathroom.

The apartment, ruined as it was, was quite spacious, with decor reminiscent of rich pre-war suites, albeit left to ruin by the nuclear armageddon that had transpired ages ago. The walls had lost all colour, being left with a morbidly depressing grey, and the floor was dressed with large, burnt carpets, leaving but a memory of the grandeur that once was. The bathroom followed the same motif as the rest of the apartment, with largely decayed walls, a shower and tub filled with filth and a toilet... well, the fewer things said about the toilet, the better. As he placed himself in front of the tub, it occured to Jonathan that it was broken. Great. Absolutely wonderful.

Jonathan would've taken a look at himself in the mirror- if the mirror wasn't a broken, filthy mess. The ruin of the place gave him an epiphany: Why was he living in such a room in the first place?

A heavy banging sound derailed his train of thought (before it could even begin) and filled his mind with fear and worry. What made it worse was that the sound came from inside the apartment.

From the edge of the bathroom door, Jonathan sneaked a careful peak into the rest of the apartment. There was no one to be found. Crouching, and with careful steps, he walked onwards into the room. Where did the sound come from, and what caused it?

As he looked around for the answer to these questions, he felt himself drawn to the closet, a feeling that increased as he got closer to it. He felt the urge to open it, but, just as he was about to, decided against it.

"Well, at least you remember that much."

Jonathan jumped backwards onto the bed (which creaked harder than a bulldozer starting up) as he heard the stranger. Distraught with fear and confusion, he searched around the room with anxious, frantic stares. He pinpointed the speaker at the edge of the room, lying sideways on the sofa-chair.

"Bravo, bravo!" the stranger continued, clapping. In a blink of an eye, they sit upwards, with their tilted head resting on their arm and their legs crossed.

"Must say, I didn't expect you to come back so fast. You must have quite the fond memories from last time... Do you remember who I am?"

Jonathan took a look at the stranger, and then at the closet. Yes. He remembered.

"You opened the closet..."

"Yes! Exactly! I'm glad you remember, Johnny boy. It would've been a real hassle for me to have to go through everything again. If this were a novel, we'd have bored the reader to death by now!"

Jonathan shifted his view between looking at the stranger and the closet. His head was throbbing; he clearly remembered being in the same room, being talked to by the same stranger, the closet being opened and being attacked by... something.


But when did it all happen? Why did it all happen?

"You ok there, Johnny boy? You've been quiet for a while."

"You said that the skeletons... where created by me?"

"Yep. You made them and threw them in there."

"But..."

"Here we go again with the butts! Look, everyone has gone through moments in life that they are not proud of. So, they do their best to ignore them. That's pretty much what's been happening here."

"How do you know all this? Who are you?"

"Me? Well..." the stranger said in an amused tone, teleporting right on Jonathan's face, who proceeded to fall back with a bedazzled "Woah".

"I'm your best friend. Not that hard an achievement, considering I'm your only friend. I was with you after your father died, talking to you through those dark times of adolescence mixed with suicidal thoughts. Quite the combination, that one! Eventually you got better and threw me into the endless depths of oblivion. But hey, I don't judge."

"You're not answering the question."

"And that's because you already know the answer! You just have to... think about it a little. It's not like you get all the answers handed to you in life anyway."

With that, the stranger said no more and instead opted to get themselves comfortable on the bed, leaving Jonathan to ponder on what was said.

The stranger stated that they were Jonathan's best (and only) friend. But if that were the case, Jonathan was certain he would recognize them even if this was a dream- He considered his keen memory to be one of his few qualities. And what did they mean by...

"You said that I left you."

"Sure did! Didn't even look back!"

"Why?"

"Because you outgrew me, I suppose."

Outgrew? What did the stranger mean by that? Jonathan doubted he was going to get an answer to that, so he didn't bother.

"If I outgrew you... then why are you back?"

"Ah!" the stranger replied as they got up into a sitting position next to Jonathan, their index finger pointing upwards, "Now, that! That is a very good question!"

"And here's a better one!" they continued, disappearing only to appear leaning on the closet door, "Why did you leave inner DC?"

"Why? Well, the Enclave's back so... gotta get as far away from the hotspots as possible, right?"

"True enough! But is that the only reason?"

"What... of course it's the only reason! Why would I leave DC otherwise? Living out here is much harder!"

"Ok, ok! Just asking! No need to get all defensive from an innocent question! Relax."

"I'm... I'm not being defensive. I'm just aggravated that you're avoiding all my questions."

"That's the thing, though. I'm not avoiding them." They paused for a moment, looking upwards, then faced Jonathan again. "Looks like this is all the time we have for now."

As the stranger said that, Jonathan started feeling wierd; lightheaded. As though his conciousness was fading. The light in the room intensified, almost blinding him. He could faintly see the figure of the stranger waving at him goodbye.

"Don't forget, remember! And more importantly, swalloo[small]ooo[/small][sub][small]oooo[/small][/sub][sub][sub][small]ooow![/small][/sub][/sub]

Springvale. Possibly.

Jonathan woke with- by the gods! What in the seven hells was that taste?!? He could feel the taste buds in his tongue dying, screaming at him to get "it" off! In a desperate struggle, Jonathan half-swallowed half-choked as he forced "it" down his throat, coughing intensively as he did. With "it" swallowed, he wiped the tears from his eyes and with a blank, cow-like look, surveyed his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't on the ground anymore. Someone had put him on a chair in a less than gentle manner, if the pain on his rear was any indication.

The second thing he noticed was a table full of pies and cupcakes. Jonathan was certain that, had eating "it" not completely ruined his appetite, his mouth would have become a waterfall of saliva.

And finally, the third thing he noticed was the other people. Two ladies shared the table with him. One was the knight-crusader-pretender-wannabe he had met before, taking a rather... interesting posture, as though showing off her bosomy chest. The other one wore a polkadot dress, which classed with her otherwise threatening look.

Speaking of the ladies, Jonathan's life-and-death struggle with "it" seemed to cause a good amount of noise, attracting their attention and creating an awkward situation. There was contrast in their stares; while the hedge knight looked at him somewhat welcomingly, the polkadot lady's stare was a cautious, fuck-with-me-and-I'll-disembowel-you one. It only made the situation feel even more awkward.

Collecting himself, both from the shock of his struggle and the awkwardness of being watched by two dangerous femme fatales, Jonathan decided to make the first move.

"Um..." he started, exchanging eye contact with the two. "Hello. I'm Bob."

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

Springvale - Bickering and Development​

"Um..." the stranger started, exchanging eye contact with the two ladies. "Hello. I'm Bob."

Kristin:

"Bo-oooooo-ooob.", Kristin sounded out the name as if it had some significant meaning to her.

Lucy:

Unlike Kristin, Lucy was not so comfortable in the stranger's presence. Her home, FalloutBob, the Enclave, the Enclave Asset Programme, her eyepatch, her Father, the answers she had found...

If Lucy's glare could harm another, there was little doubt that this man would be writhing in pain.

"Why..." She had begun uncharacteristically softly. Her eye widened when she remembered that her cover and identity as an Enclave Asset was tarnished and that there was no reason to keep herself shackled. In doing so, "Why did you come to Springvale?", her voice had gained a poisonous edge.

Kristin:

Kristin was busy putting together a plate of her best pies and cupcakes. The newcomer named Bob, seemed displeased with her powder-pie. This was a great injustice! Her cooking was her pride and joy! For BlamCo's sake, her very identity as the heiress to her illustrious organisation was being threatened! Her own faith was at stake!

This will simply not do.

"Oh dear." Kristin laid a hand to her cheek once more, growing incredibly haughty as the speech continued. "You were being terribly rude by destroying my offering with your failed-forehead-feasting attempt. Your table manners leave much to be desired. And I urge you to bathe in the excess dairy of our feast, breastless one."

Kristin's attitude suddenly whiplashed to benevolent and well-meaning, "Here you go, Mister Bob the Springvale postman. This should reinvigorate your tongue, taste buds and by extension...your soul.", Kristin uttered sweetly as she pushed a readied plate of her finest selection across the table.

Bear in mind, Kristin was so busy with preparations that she had forgotten to have a much-needed snack.

Lucy:

Lucy hadn't taken her eye off of this Bob character, yet Kristin wasn't doing her any favors by interrupting her.

"I don't care if you're the heiress to BlamCo family whatever fortune." Lucy almost hissed at Kristin for the first time, "But this - " Lucy gestured to the brightly-lit house, " - is the home of my late father, Isaac. YOU are the guest here!"

Kristin:

Kristin, of all people, was stunned...for the wrong reasons. "Miss Black...I am the chef and that does not make me immune to the rules of the dinner table, I understand." (She didn't.) "However, I implore you to eat. Your stomach-brain seems grumpy."

Lucy:

If Lucy still had her Gauss Rifle...

Choosing to ignore Kristin for now until she had cooled off. Lucy started eating to placate the Heiress, sure enough, the pies were delicious and each contained a unique flavour. Some better than others, but still some of the best food that she had eaten in months. It was somewhat undermining her outburst earlier, as she actually was mostly grumpy due to extreme hunger and fatigue since her one-sided conflict with FalloutJack.

Finishing off a cupcake slowly, Lucy started to gather her thoughts in an attempt to reign in her paranoia. This wasn't the Enclave Vault anymore. True, it had been less than a day since FalloutJack had assured her that she would be off their radar. It was... highly unreasonable to automatically assume everyone had an ulterior motive based on the coincidence of a mere name.

Sylph had taught her how to trust once more. Lucy couldn't stand to be doing her sister any sort of disservice.

"Lucy Black." Lucy turned to Bob slowly after much contemplation, introducing herself in a more gentle manner. Even the characteristic glare had lifted, replaced by an eye of curiosity. "Lets restart, what brings you to Springvale?"

 

[The Harkinator]

Just outside the Citadel

"You, hey you! Which way did Scribe Ramsey go? He might have been accompanied by a really tall blonde guy too." Said Willing, feeling free and raring to go for another adventure. The Paladin gate guard he addressed pointed across the bridge that led into the main part of the DC Ruins, "Thanks mate." Said William, who then looked around for his bike to journey on.

...Oh yeah. Well at least it was a nice day for a jog, plus he had a Pip-Boy to return. Now that he didn't need the thing he was suddenly aware of the extra weight it carried, it dragged his arm down. William hadn't noticed that before but now it ran in circles around his head.

How did the Vault Dwellers wear these things all the time? Did they keep them on in the shower, wouldn't it stink under there after a while? My arm is starting to smell I think, and it sweats there really badly right now that can't help. What about in bed when you're trying to rest but you're always aware of it there? Or in bed but not for sleeping? That'd be a bit of a turn off if you're trying to get into the moment and you keep hitting each other with these giant metal bricks around your wrists.

I might be thinking into this a bit too much...


It turns out that jogging clears William's mind and allows him to mentally relax for a bit. Unfortunately his relaxing mind has to deal with some questions that have been skipped by in the last few days.

 

[Neuromancer]

Springvale. Totally!

Jonathan was nervous as to the reaction of his company; if possible, he would indulge them as well as he could. He was so used to it by now that it came to him naturally; he had, after all, been lying all his life. Even so, all the charisma in the world wouldn't be able to save him if his hosts arbitrarily decided to kill him.

The knight-errant was the first to respond. "Bo-oooooo-ooob.", she bellowed like a stag issuing a mating call, putting an unnatural emphasis on the name. Jonathan wasn't quite sure how to react to that, but he did feel a small amount of relief that he wasn't attacked.

"Why..."

The voice reached Jonathan's ears as he looked at the woman-at-arms and filled him with hope, for it was a calm voice. Perhaps his hosts could be reasoned with, after all. He turned towards the polkadot lady an- No, they couldn't.

The one-eyed one looked at him with an intense, you've-fucked-with-the-wrong-polkadot-dress-wearing-mass-murderer stare, which was enough to make his eye twitch and cold sweat to run down his forehead. He was lucky the lady was missing one eye, for he was sure that, given the intensity of her one-eyed stare, one with two-eyes would have made his head explode like a blood sausage.

"Why did you come to Springvale?" The words came out of her mouth with the intensity of shotgun fire, causing to Jonathan instictively tense up, close his eyes and put his hands in front of his face; he was half-certain the woman would shoot him with that rifle she was carrying.

But why such a hostile response? The other woman emphasised the name, and she nearly tore him apart with her look. Was it the name? Could he have run into some sort of Bob-hating cult? I knew I should have gone for Steward...

No, no, no. That couldn't be it! Crazy people roamed the wasteland, sure, but surely there weren't any that would kill someone just because they didn't like the name, right? Actually, scratch that- there totally were people out there that would do that. But surely Jonathan hadn't run into them, right?

Jonathan causiously opened his eyes. He had to pick his next words very, very carefully. The one-eyed woman mentioned that he was in Springvale... That's it! He was at Springvale! And since he was at Springvale, he could ask them to bring him to Isaac, who would be able to get him out of this mess! Steeling himself, Jonathan prepared to spill the beans. "Um... I-I-"

"Oh dear." said the chevalier, completely stopping Jonathan in his tracks.

"You were being terribly rude by destroying my offering with your failed-forehead-feasting attempt." Jonathan touched his forehead, there were still parts of the pie stuck on it. Wait, offering?!?!

"Your table manners leave much to be desired" Noticing that his elbows were on the table, Jonathan hurriedly removed them. Did she just say offering?

"And I urge you to bathe in the excess dairy of our feast, breastless one." Jonathan took a sniff at his shoulders. He could use a bath, indeed. Wait, bath with dairy? Breastless one? Offering?!? Had Jonathan just run into a Bob-hating radical feminist neo-pagan cult?

This didn't look good. He hadn't even said anything, yet his hosts had already started abhorring his presence. If this were to continue then-

"Here you go, Mister Bob the Springvale postman. This should reinvigorate your tongue, taste buds and by extension...your soul." The sudden change in tone caught Jonathan completely off guard. What caused such an attitude whiplash? The cavaliere seemed all too eager to push the plate towards him; could there be a catch?

Jonathan opted to not be overly suspicious about it. If they wanted him dead, he was going to die anyway. Might as well try to appease one of them. Grabbing a slice of pie, he took a couple of sniffs at it. It did smell kind of wierd, but at this point he'd eat just about anything if it meant he could get out of this mess.

"I don't care if you're the heiress to BlamCo family whatever fortune." protested the venomous one. BlamCo? Like the fast food? Regardless, Jonathan decided against trying to reason with that one and instead focus on the Hussar. To do so, he started munching the piece of pie, which actually had a refined, if not wierd at places, taste. Jonathan reasoned that the wierdness must have been leftovers from "it".

"But this - " she continued just as Jonathan started swallowing, " - is the home of my late father, Isaac. YOU are the guest here!"

Shocked by her words, Jonathan once again started coughing intensely, causing the piece of pie he was swallowing to violently eject from his mouth, fly right next to the alleged heiress, and land on the ground.

Did she just say Isaac? And more importantly, late Isaac? Jonathan stared at the one-eyed Jack the Ripper aghast, his mouth open.

No. There is no way, no way she was talking about the same Isaac. There's many Isaacs out there, right? Surely he was Isaac Brown, maybe Isaac Green? Isaac Pink, yes, that's it! She was the child of Isaac Pink!

Even with his totally sane rationalizations, Jonathan couldn't do anything but stare as the one-eyed Atlanta Ripper was calmed down by the silver-haired prince. He had to make sure that she wasn't talking about Isaac Black. But how were he to go about doing that?

Before he could come up with anything, the one-eyed Gilles de Rais, her features noticeably calmer, spoke to him again

"Lucy Black."

Those two words shattered whatever hope he had like
So, she was the child of Isaac Black. And, unless she meant that he was late for an appointment, Isaac was dead.

...Fuck.

Jonathan fell back on his chair, assumed a defeated, slouching manner, and covered his face with his palm. It was all so much. He had evaded the ghouls and raiders of the DC metro, defeated a Stealth Boy-using super giant, outrun deathclaw and yao guai alike, starved for days and found himself in a tea party sponsored by two demented beasts, only to find that the last man he knew out in the wilds was dead.

What a joke. What a fucking joke.

"Lets restart, what brings you to Springvale?"

"I... I was..." he whispered while rubbing his face with his palm. He had stopped acting. I have grown tired of this hopeless charade.

With a heavy sigh, he raised his head and looked straight at Isaac's child with a tired, defeated expression.

"I was looking for your father... Isaac Black."

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

Lucy - Springvale: Explanations...​

Lucy Black felt that she may have unintentionally dropped a bomb on this Bob character. His reactions had reflected many of Lucy's own after her earlier outburst, minus the spewing of food that is and more emotional stress.

"I... I was..."

Under Lucy's observation, she had gleamed that Bob was an expressive man, whether that was due to an unorthodox cheese party, Kristin's company or her own eyepatched appearance, needless to say it was an eccentric combination that would throw many people into an uncomfortable position. Had Lucy not dealt with the antics of the Red Menace, she would feel just as uncomfortable as Bob, if not more.

(Note to self: Invite Sylphy to a BlamCo party one day.)

"I was looking for your father... Isaac Black."

Lucy met the direct gaze of Bob with an unflinching yet weary stare. A look that said: 'Why can I not rest for one day?'. Perhaps her paranoia had paid off, for the hypersensitivity that she had never truly left at the Enclave Vault was going into overdrive. Something about Bob had shifted, his actions were more spontaneous, his expressions were that of true defeat, even the way he had expressed his last sentence seemed more...genuine.

She could be overthinking this, speaking as someone that was informally trained by an abusive and controlling Mother to monitor and control herself in order to get information out of others. Obviously her travels had displayed more failures than successes with regards to that particular portion of 'training'.

"Miss Black, is everything alright?", Kristin had prodded Lucy in the side with her already-oversized Bumper Sword, her head tilted in a fashion that seemed to be inspecting Lucy as if her batteries needed replacing.

It had dawned on Lucy that minutes had passed as she had stared at Bob, her lips had curled downward in an expression of sadness. Kristin, however, had cleaned up the table, left enough for two people and took her meal inside. Not after proclaiming that she had to wash up. Whether she had read the atmosphere...or truly needed to wash up was anyones guess.

"Sorry." Lucy uttered softly before speaking up to Bob, "You're about 4 - well technically, nearly 5 years too late."

Lucy had little idea on how to relay the death of her Father to someone else that was connected to him. Although details would depend on this person's relationship to Isaac. Then again...she was tired of fighting and tired of lying. So she opted for the unedited truth.

"Springvale wasn't always a mess, it used to be worse, but this was once an actual neighborhood about two years ago. That all changed when the Enclave arrived. They were looking for something..."

With comfort food available, Lucy delved into an explanation of the events, "...This area was purged by a high-ranking Enclave Specialist of the Fallout Sector, FalloutBob. Apparently, Isaac Black, who was previously FalloutIsaac had stolen an enhanced prototype weapon. A Gauss Rifle Plus. The GRP was proof that the Enclave was back in full-force, it was a weapon that had no security measures installed and whoever could harness the weapon's technology would have all the proof they needed to launch a surprise attack on the present Enclave itself..."

Lucy felt that Bob's defeated expression and rough appearance was the signal of a man that had travelled far for answers and resolutions. She knew that feeling all too well, unfortunately she had to claw her way through two opposing organisations and other obstacles to get to the truth. All she could offer this person connected to her father was an explanation...a luxury she never had. So she continued...

"...I took to Megaton for two years, I couldn't stay here anymore and all I had was some leather armor, the GRP and three stimpacks. I would have taken a shot at a normal life there, but I was breaking when FalloutBob returned and forced me into the Enclave Asset Programme. So I thought I could use that against them in time..."

Lucy had finished countless pies by this time and she had laid the perfect-condition hunting rifle in her lap.

"...I infiltrated the Brotherhood due to sheer luck, partly to keep up appearances for the Enclave, but later I had discovered that he was closely tied up with the Brotherhood's business." Lucy grew a little proud at her combat accomplishments, especially the giant mirelurk and its army. "...Behemoth's launched an attack, I killed one from an unstable vertibird. Then the Enclave launched an attack, since I was an Asset, I was replaceable and the scope of my rifle was sniped - " Lucy gestured to her eyepatch for emphasis. "...FalloutBob was captured and then he tried to escape. Still under the impression that I was an Asset, and since the Brotherhood was a dead end, I took a chance and helped FalloutBob escape. With my cover identity secured somewhat, I infiltrated the Enclave Vault where I learned the truth."

Lucy's pride was nowhere to be found when she had reached this part of the story, she still harbored a lot of guilt for her actions, or more accurately, her inactions.

"...I had to unwillingly sacrifice a friend to prove my loyalty. I met some recently-captured outsiders, we banded together and under my leadership as an Enclave Asset, they had become my team. I made a choice: Avenge Isaac...or live up to what he wanted and save these people. So I lied and lied and lied until I lost sight of who I had become. I was apparently important enough to warrant a meeting with Number One and the man primarily tasked with Isaac's murder, FalloutJack who had handed it off to FalloutBob. My Father had opposed everything that Number One stood for, he wanted co-operation with the Brotherhood to better the Wasteland."

"So I received my first mission. I ignored it and used it as my means to take my team and let them escape." Lucy sat back in her seat as she was finishing off, "...So I had the Enclave, Brotherhood AND then all of a sudden, The Talon Company after my head." ... "Less than 24 hours ago, FalloutJack arrived in person, we fought one-on-one, I lost...we talked and he had given me a second chance. Apparently I'm off their radar, since involving and using me caused a hell of a lot more complications for them in the long-run."

Lucy bravely told her entire story, thankful that Kristin had also taken the time to prepare lemon-juice for them while they talked in private. Returning with their drinks, Kristin made no comment, instead she was met a hand to her shoulder and what looked like a nod of earnest respect. Apparently Kristin had heard everything through the open kitchen windows.

Laying her glass down after a few moments of silence, Lucy lifted the eyepatch to reveal her crimson-iris, the defect on her organic replacement eye to confirm her story and quickly put it back on. There was no malice or aggression to be found in Lucy's explanations or speech, instead, an observant individual would recognise the gaze of someone that had experienced far too much in a short time-span.

"Why am I telling you all this?" Lucy queried softly, clearly unsettled at having to relive those memories, "If you were here to kill Isaac, you wouldn't exactly have grief written all over your face. Besides, I'm sure you can tell...I am done fighting."

And on that note, Lucy laid the new hunting rifle on the table and unclipped the bullet-holder-thingy to further illustrate her point.

"Before I ask you if you have any questions. You don't owe me anything, but...was he a good person to you?"

 

[Drummodino]

Citadel Outskirts

Rubble crunched underfoot as the odd trio dashed through the ruins, the hot sun beating down on them from above. Buchanan cursed as he awkwardly jumped over the remains of a fallen wall, yet despite the heat, sweat and fear of disembowelment, he was enjoying himself for the first time in weeks. It felt so good to be out of that dreary old compound and running through the wastes again, tearing through mutated creatures with his chainsaw.

*pew pew pew*

*RUMBLE! RUMBLE! RUMBLE!*

*CRASH! BOOM! SPLORCH!!!!*

The Knight Captain spun at the unexpected sounds to see their remaining pursuers get crushed under the collapsing alleyway, the route they had just run through cut off.

"You can set me down now."

Glancing at the girl under his arm with surprise Buchanan gently set her down before snatching his pistol out of her hand. Her calm demeanor and quick thinking, not to mention the ability to aim while being jolted about so violently, were not something he'd expected from the excitable girl who'd been poking him in the chest and thought mirelurks were inclined to hug people. Unsure what to make of her he turned around to see an out of breath Charlie staring at the strangest looking Mirelurk he'd ever seen.

"WHOO! WHOO! WHOOWHOOP! WHOO! WHOO! WHOOWHOOP!"

"Sir! Quickly, shoot this!"

With a quick shout Charlie pulled the pin from one of his grenades and threw it at the strange creature running around sideways clacking his pincers together. Reacting purely through instinct Buchanan quickly brought up his laser pistol and fired, detonating the explosive just as Professor Zoidberg The Mirelurk Emperor caught it in midair. The close range blast kicked up a storm of dust and several bits of shrapnel bounced off Buchanan's power armour as he protected his face with one arm. Charlie's combat armour saveed him from the worst of the debris as he dived in front of Sylph, shielding her from the blast. His exposed arms received several deep cuts however and one particularly large piece tearing through his left forearm

"Oh crap" he said, clutching the bleeding arm with his other hand as he sat up from where he had fallen.