OOC: In no particular order...
IC>>>>>
Yes, it seemed like Dr. Crawver finally found some refuge and indeed some salvation, no troubles for the time being and no hunger to worry about for him or Udders. Yet...was he aware that he was being followed by a strange half-crippled man who proclaimed him to be a catfish? Let it be known that while the reports on Uriah Abraham St. John are very VERY hard to follow sometimes, there ain't no other Brahmin-mounting creature close to catfish than Dr. Crawver, being at least a being made from the Irradiated Walrex. Nevertheless, they would have a visitor in the night, surely. A stranger with a special and wild alcoholic concoction that does...things to people. And to walruses? We shall see.
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Barry was in a bad fix, strapped over the back of a Brahmin by a bunch off raiders. That, fellow wastelanders, is the shits. Poor man thinks he's a superhero and tries to do good, but he ends up clubbed and beaten all over. Terrible thing. Well, fortunately for our boy, Barry, his karma was about to pay off a little. Just a little. There was a sound from up above, rotors spinning rapidly. By now, half the bloody wasteland had to know the sound of a Vertibird coming. Little or no cover to be found, the machine was upon them, turning in their path, and plasma and laser at most of the men. They actually did not kill the Brahmin or its occupant, and in fact when it landed the few soldiers who climbed out merely gunned down the remaining raiders before approaching the beast. Thus, there was commentary...
#43: And now, meat's back on the menu, boys!
#57: That's good, 'cause I haven't had a juicey steak in weeks.
#109: Someone's on top of that thing, tied. Living or dead?
They approached and checked him out.
#57: Living. Shall I end him?
#43: No wait, I'll handle this.
Barry would be poked and prodded until he awoke to find three black powersuits - LIKE THE POSTER!! - staring at him.
#43: Uncle Sam wants YOU to give us that walking steak you're riding as a down-payment for the saving-your-ass tax. No charge for a'cuttin' ya down first!
Clearly, though high in equipment, there wasn't much in the way of meat back at the base.
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"Do you want some?"
"I'll have a taste."
What the- Hello... That rough and grating voice you just heard belonged to a ghoul. Apparently, during their engrossing conversation, such a ghoul with tattered leather clothing and such spotted him and came in closer, until now he was in speaking range. He was, of course, something that looked like a walking corpse, but at least this particular ghoul didn't seem irked by two humans talking. He was armed with a sidearm, but it was in his holster, so no worries there.
"It's been a long fucking walk. You're Knight, right? Boss described ya well enough. Gots a message."
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The situation between Lucy and Vikki had looked to be alright UNTIL...an armored BoS man walked in on them and held his own Gauss weapon at ready, interrogating about the rifle in Lucy's hands. Isaac Black and his daughter may've been known around the Underworld will enough, but were those jokes just jokes or...what? This particular instance was being watched from a distance. By what? By something metal that floats, something that keeps and EYE on things, but will defend itself if necessary. And why? Because the Eyebot was programmed to look at things of relevant interest, like Steel-clad armors. And Frank Rose NEVER seemed to take his off. Big target.
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GNR: ...well, there hasn't been a break-in since that day, but we're all on the lookout for the birds in the sky, children, and so far the talk is none too pleasant. The Enclave have been droppin' their posters all over the place, randomly having shoot-outs with mutants and raiders, and randomly patrolling the wasteland for...well, yur guess is as good as mine. But with signs of melted people burned-out wreckages, I'm not holdin' my breath for a peaceful co-existence. The worst part of it is...the silence. Enclave haven't had an open transmission since the one and that's spookier than the old Eden days...
Moriarty's was, of course, listening up to GNR while they ate, drank, and did whatever else. They treated Marlon well enough too. There was, however, a brief disruption of the signal as the sound of a Vertibird passing overhead could be heard. A moment later, Lucas Simms was walking into the bar with a poster in hand.
Sheriff: They're doin' it again, I see. Trying to get people on their side when we know they're shit. I'd rather worship the bomb
Moriarty: Can't be as bad as when the youngin' was here. S'not like they've tried to takeover the wastes, at least not yet.
Sheriff: They will. Just you w-
Suddenly, there was a voice from outside going "Hey, there's a super mutant out there!". The Sheriff walked out. Why in the hell were they bothering him about one super mutant? One and only one? I mean, unless it was a Behemoth - and they would've SAID - it wasn't worth bothering him about it. Upon reaching the wall, though, he could see why it was a problem. There'd been rumors of alot of dazed and weirded-out mutants lately. Something was wrong with 'em. There'd been rumors about mutants and Project Purity. Was this...?
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[HEADING=2]BOOOOMMM!!![/HEADING]
Somewhere in a nearby tunnel, a loud explosion was heard and a whole in the tunnel actually formed from it, revealing the contents. Trashy metro station room, getting trashier by the moment. The loud boom had sounded similar to a Fat-Man round, but that was not what had flung the doom-blast. A cursory examination would reveal that in this room, there were alot of feral ghouls, and alot of them were now dead. The reason?
"Communism is a lie! Democracy is truth!"
A humanoid robot of unknown design was soundly trouncing them with ray-beam eyes, thrown mini-nukes, and his fighting skill. Feral ghouls style was to run at the enemy and lunge at him with all speed, trying to rip 'em apart, usually. This was having little or no effect on the robot that could zap them dead or punch them hard enough to rupture skulls. And then, when several ghouls tackled him from behind, failing to do more than make him lurch, he he started to kick and elbow them away...
"Communist attack from behind! Chances of success..."
...picked the last one up to to hold it over his head and...
RRRIIIIPP!!!
"...ZERO!!"
Next Issue: Mechanist Meets Liberty Minor!
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After Rex's new master spoke to him, there'd be a wild dog howling from a distance. This was, of course, understandable by Rex, not Brandon. It said...'For a good time, call'...what?! No! What were these wild critters thinking?! None of them appeared to want to attack, though. However, further 'conversations' proved slightly more enlightening.
'Hey, what are those black things over there?'
'Oh, I see that! Smells funny...'
'They make the heavy sound and the big flash! Run!'
Yes, there was...off in the distance, a three man patrol of some sort. Black things? Funny smell? Big flash? Aha! Enclave troopers... Not precisely heading this way, but they could find themselves looking this way if their attention was drawn.
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No sooner had Cass removed said bullets than...
"MAAACAAAVOOOYY!!! Wheerrre aaarrre yyyoooouuu...?!"
Yeeks! That deep voice, that loud strut from downstairs, that sound of the last-surviving house guard panicking before a silencing gurgle! That had to be a super mutant! A super mutant that sounded...admittedly drunk right now. And quite burly. Should we tell him now or let him figure it out for himself?
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Poor Dudley, stuck waiting 'cause he can't abandon his vehicle. In the confusion ofthe moment, he didn't exactly see them coming, but fortune was on his side today, as they were not the violent sort. Well, not unless so given the inclination to. You know how it is. So, when a rough voice began to address him...
"I say! You appear to be having a spot of trouble. Vehicle playing up, is it?"
Oh my god! Morgan Bloom! A ghoul with a nice suit, top hat, monocle, and gentleman's cane stood nearby now, with at least half a dozen well-armed men flanking him on either side and back. He looked over to one of his guards.
"Do inquire as to when the marketplace is open. I have alot of business to take care of today and little time to do it."
Now, his attention returned to Dudley.
"These wastelands can be terrible for a man smooth of skin sometimes, but life carries on, or so they say!"
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The Vertibrd was headed due north.
#122: So, what are we going after again?
#44: Eyebots that haven't been wrecked by Deathclaws last reported some kind of settlement declaring independence up here, called 'The Republic of Dave'. Stupid shit of a 'Last Man on Earth' scenario.
#86: I wonder... Would you mind if I tried something?
They just shrugged at this. Soon, the Vertibird was coming in for a landing and three troopers approached on foot, plasma rifles on their backs, not on their hands. They stood outside the fence and declared that they must speak to Dave on an important matter of world-impacting importance. Naturally, Dave was falling for it. Of course, the landing of a Vertibird could scarcely be ignored by their guest (Sully).
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The man Michael found was Fishspear, of course, so unless our pale fellow wants to do anything to him, this meeting would be innocent enough, except...
Underworld is just choking with ghouls. Wasn't there some talk of this insanely-rich and well-protected ghoul of some great influence? Someone like that would know how to find the BoS, who in there to talk to, and what palms to grease to get what's needed.
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Heeey...! After a fair bit of examination, Gig managed to find a cave which lead indeed to the entrance to a vault. He found it because of a dead body, badly decayed, that had been outside of said cave. The door appeared to be shut...and yet operational, but...there was one small issue. Old blood stains were on the door, writing out a single message...
DONT
Wasn't this Vault abandoned? Maybe something had moved in? Maybe it was irradiated? Maybe...something else? I guess we'll never know, because you're going to guard it! Right? The nice big button to open the door? The shiny...candy-like red button? Well, only Gig can speak for Gig.