The REALLY Wild Wasteland. (The Fallout RP!)

[Rip Van Rabbit]

Kristin Blamco - Dreams & Flashbacks​

The Berserker Princess, fueled by the psycho-laced stimpack had conquered her very first foe. A super mutant, wielding nothing more than a bumper sword had fallen to her now-broken sledgehammer. Her battle-sisters cheers could be heard from all around the rocky canyon. Those that had opted to using conventional firearms had signalled to their father that Kristin had succeeded, in melee combat no less.

Kristin, however, had collapsed to her knees. While coughing up blood, she could feel a definite swelling on one side of her face somewhat numbed by the effects of the stimpack. The injured Princess was aided by her battle-sisters, helping her to stand up and walk.

"Not just yet!", bellowed the voice of Kristin's father as he approached the dead super mutant, "You have made me proud beyond words, my dearest daughter! This - ", he held out the sword claimed from her opponent, "This is your blade now. You have earned the right to don the finest armor we have available. For you, Kristin Blamco, are the first of your sisters to willingly choose the path of the blade and succeed!"

Content that she could bring such joy to her father, the injured Princess grabbed the grip of the sword, only to underestimate it's weight and drop it. Her father laughed, "Fret not, you will get used to it."

"Why do we do this?", uttered the injured Princess, "Beyond the glory of combat, I mean."

It's not just about combat, Kristin. How many lives do you think you saved here today?, Kristin's father cut in.

"My own?", Kristin answered weakly, beginning to feel the extent of her wounds.

"Think beyond yourself.", her father replied with a soft-hearted smile, "Potential is key. This beast had the potential to kill one, two or maybe even ten people. Perhaps someone else would have struck this beast down. You never truly know and that's the very point."

Kristin's father stopped to stroke his beard, frowning ever-so-slightly. "How do I put this..."

"The Brotherhood hole themselves up in a bunker. The NCR squabble amongst themselves. The Legion care not for their fellow man. New Vegas cares only for itself. But what can we, as Blamco's, do? We can fight for others much like we provide for others. We fight where others may run. And in the face of ridicule, hopelessness and death: We remain brave above all."

[hr]

8 years have passed since that speech.
And Kristin Blamco took those words to heart.

[hr]
Kristin Blamco - Megaton: Moriarty's Saloon
Face your fears​

The Sleeping Princess stirred from her slumber, vastly underestimating just how physically drained she was. Blinking softly, she discovered Jonathan standing nearby, he must have been the source of the disturbance.

"I have brought you clothes," Jonathan started firmly, "I'm sorry if they aren't of the best condition, they were the best I could get at such a time." he continued as he put the paper bag on the bed, next to her feet.

"Thank you...", murmured the Sleepy Princess, slowly getting her bearings once more as she sat up and pulled the paper bag onto her lap. Growing eager to inspect her new set of clothing.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll be in the bathroom. I need to change my clothes." Jonathan concluded, entering the nearby bathroom and closing the door behind him, leaving Kristin to her own devices.

If one could imagine a mini-Kristin pressing the power button on her brain, the real Kristin jolted awake when she properly took stock of what she was wearing, or more accurately, what she wasn't wearing. Putting her bra on once more, she bit her lip anxiously - had he seen? Of course he had seen! This was going to devalue her argument somewhat. On another note, he didn't take advantage of the situation - and for that, the Princess was thankful. Falling asleep without securing the room was careless, then again, she was used to having 17 Butler Bots guarding her room in New Vegas at all times.

Kristin emptied the contents of the paper bag onto the bed. Of all the things that Jonathan could have found for her, this article of clothing was not something that she would particularly wear back at home. Not out of snobbish contempt, don't get her wrong, she was just unaccustomed to clothing bearing the signs of fire damage.

Opening a nearby closet door had revealed a full-length mirror for her to properly model her new clothing. The plaid skirt was frayed at the edges, but it rested above the knees, an acceptable length. A stained, or rather burnt sleeves of a button-up white dress shirt was next. It was one size too large for her, but this was remedied when she opted to roll up her sleeves. Digging through her bag, Kristin fetched her emergency stockings, an item to keep her legs warm during cold days. The black stockings contrasted well with the white shirt. Stepping back to adjust her hair, she played with the idea of tying it up or letting it hang loose. She decided on the latter, all her hairpins were being used to substitute for missing buttons on the shirt.

Overall, she looked like a college graduate playing up a school uniform for a party. It was quite the departure from her silver plate-reinforced leather armor appearance. She didn't dislike it, but she could see the potential for this being an outfit for Jonathan's excitement.

Oh dear.

Her mind just had to go there.
All dressed, with little else to do, Kristin was left alone with her thoughts. Of which she had many, and of those thoughts, questions, unsettling implications and the much-loathed creep of vulnerability had arisen. Kristin appreciated the little gestures of kindness that was given to her, yet the manner in which they were handled and the harsh coldness that emanated from Jonathan made her question why he was still around.

Kristin wanted nothing more than a guide on the East Coast, since Lucy Black had refused. And while part of her entertained the notion of friendship, her relationship with Jonathan had grown strangely complicated. One moment, she was aiding him in battle with near-flawless communication, the next, she was talked down to for her inability to keep up with #411's web of manipulation. It was clear that Kristin preferred the direct approach, one steeped in honesty. Jonathan, however, had no qualms with subversion. As impressive as his display was, it did raise the worrying question: Was he just humoring her?

It wouldn't be the first time that she had lost friends to attempted exploitation because of her wealth or influence. Although in the East Coast, Kristin possessed neither wealth nor influence. She had a family name and the abilities to prove it, that was all.

Even if that weren't the case, what was Jonathan's plan for the Blue-Haired army of untrained young females? Surely he could not ignore that. They would needlessly be marching to their death, and while Kristin would prefer to train these females to be competent in their own right...she would much rather convert them to a more peaceful cause. That of Blamcoism, with an army of her own, cheese will run through the streets. Either way, her conscience will not allow her to stand by while these girls were being used as cannon fodder.

Kristin replaced the dead energy cell on her mini-microwave, heating white cheese and noodles while she waited for Jonathan.
She couldn't put this off forever, Kristin needed to talk to Jonathan and discover what kind of future they would have together.

Knocking on the bathroom door, Kristin paused a little before she piped up.

"Mister Jonathan.", she was being formal, that wasn't a good sign. "Thank you for my outfit, it's - erm - certainly different from what I usually wear."

Noticing the gap between the stockings and skirt, she imagined that this outfit might have some implications on its own. Something which she needed to rectify immediately.

Be brave at all times.

"I - I - ", Kristin almost punched the door in frustration. She's fought super mutants in melee combat! What was so preposterously difficult about this kind of confession!? With a sigh and a pause, she swallowed her pride and continued. "I don't know what you think of me, or what kind of person you think I am - and that's something I want to discuss - although, I fear that I might have the wrong impression about you - which is also something I want to discuss - and there are things I need to explain - but you - I don't know if you want to in the first place..."

She was babbling nervously. Then silence fell. A few moments passed before a softer, less-strained reply had followed.

"I didn't have enough money to afford two rooms. Then the clothes, and the radiation happened - I trust your judgement, so I got undressed.", Kristin audibly groaned and just blurted out the next sentence. "I'm a virgin, okay? This is not how I want it to happen, not that there's anything wrong with you!", she added earnestly.

She was happy that a door was separating them.

"I'm just not ready for it at all.", Kristin concluded sadly. More disappointed with herself, of all the things that could strike fear into her heart, it was the act of sex and the vulnerability surrounding it. "I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."

She opened her mouth to say more on the subject, but she was feeling painfully insecure as it was. "I made us dinner if you would like. Finely sliced brahmin jerky & noodles, topped with white Blamco cheese."

Even in the brief role of BlamCo Hostess, she couldn't move past the awkwardness.

"I'll understand if this is our last meal together."

 

[Drummodino]

The Wild Wastelands | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite​

"Oof!"

The air rushed out of Charlie's lungs as Thomas' fist rammed into his torso. The followup crack to the head dazed him temporarily and by the time his vision cleared he realized with horror that his own pistol was moving towards his head...

"STOP IT CHARLIE CANNON!"

Thomas and Charlie both froze at that outburst, which gave Arizona the chance to drag them apart. The old ghoul then proceeded to dress them down. The lecturing tone reminded Charlie of being back home when his mother caught him and his siblings roughhousing out in the fields. A flush of shame ran through him, which was compounded when Arizona slapped him around the back of the head. Then she said something ridiculous.

"Hug."

"Excuse me?" Charlie said, looking at Arizona incredulously. He'd had more physical contact with this man than he wanted already, this wasn't some bullshit kid's story where people's issues could be solved with hugs and friendship.

Speaking of kids...

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY! YOU'RE ALIVE!!! WHERE'VE YOU BEEN?! I MISSED YOU? WHERE'D YOU GO? DID YOU GET THAT MEAN MAN THAT TRIED TO KILL YOU?"

Oh dear. Sylphee was back. Charlie had to chuckle as the Blue Haired Whirlwind of Limbs launched herself at her "Father". That chuckle turned into groans of pain as Sylphee turned to him and launched into a crash tackle hug.

"Gah! Sylphee please... can't... breathe!" Charlie choked out as Sylphee's iron hug crushed his windpipe. Then things got even worse as Thomas wandered over and hugged the pair of them.

'How did this even happen?' Charlie wondered as he slowly ran out of oxygen and dignity.

 

[evilengine]

"Hrmphh, this episode again?! I swear that those fellas only ever recorded 'bout three of these things."

Chester grumbled, radio held close to his ear, only just getting the feint signal from GNR. Like a safe-cracker with a stethoscope he listened close, very slowly turning the dials this way and that, listening for anything else that wasn't static. Not much luck. He let out an annoyed sigh, peering into the jumble of wires.

"Might be a slight misalignment..."

Only now did he turn back to Trixie, who was frantically piecing things together, mumbling to herself.

"You gots an idea I'm guessin', hm?"

He asked, eyebrow raised, peering over at whatever she was doing.

"I might just have a few other things too if ya need em, within reason at least..."

He added the last bit cautiously, not wanting to sacrifice any of the good merchandise if he could get away without it.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wasteland | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite​

When Thomas finally lurched over to the two and wrapped his arms around them both in a hug of his own, Arizona smiled a little and nodded in approval.

"See? Don't you feel better now?" she asked, before she finally caught a glimpse of the kid's face and grimaced.

"Alright, that's enough. A hug isn't meant to suffocate someone." the Ghoul told them as she strode over and pulled Thomas off of him.

But when she tried to do the same to Sylph, she was surprised at just how strong the little things arms were. It almost seemed like no matter how hard she tried to dislodge her, she wouldn't budge.

"The hell?! What are her arms made of, steel? Thomas, help me out here!" she called as she tried to tug her off of the poor, suffocating boy.

But the moment she manged to get her hands unlocked, she realized the problem. Her legs were locked around Charlie too, meaning she wasn't coming off without getting her peeled off all at once.

"Alright, new plan: I'll get her legs, you get her arms." she told him, before she started to try and unwrap Sylph from her friend.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite
Witness and Suffer!​

A large part of Thomas "Shifty" McGee was tempted to allow Sylphee's hug to crush the chest cavity of her young benefactor while he watched with a stupid and silly grin on his face and chalking up the young man's death to reaping what he had sowed. There was another part of the Formerly Friendly Neighborhood Undertaker that admired the conviction and unwavering loyalty that Charlie Cannon had displayed. Despite his desire to protect the weak from the evils of the Wastelands, Thomas was quite certain that Charlie was getting a crash course on how far from weak Sylphee was, especially since the young man's face was starting to turn blue.

"Alright." The Pale and Tall Manhandler responded as he gripped the Red Menace's arms, "One... two... THREE!"

~WUMPFFF!~

The sound of lungs reinflating themselves for the first time in what probably seemed an eternity for Charlie Cannon was welcome since it meant that Thomas would not be performing any life saving procedures on him that day. It was slightly ironic that one so familiar with the subject of death be somewhat versed in first aid.

With the danger of Charlie dying from a catastrophic failure of his rib cage passed, the well meaning, dapperly dressed gentleman took a seat next to the fire, looking at the key that he had lifted from the Crimson Clad Kook's neck.

"Hey Daddy! Whatcha looking at?" Sylphee asked as she sat herself next to him, completely unaware of the face that she had the key around her neck in the first place, "Ohhhhhhh! I have a Mister Clicky Key in Mister Death Bag-o-treasure! Want me to show you?"

"No... it won't be necessary Sylphee." The Member of Clan McGee said quietly. Given her lapse in memory, he doubted that she was aware of who this belonged to. There was another possible reason that Sylphee had the key that had been to Lucy by Thomas McGee and it related to his last request before being frozen by the C**T known as Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411. It was possible that Lucy was very much alive and had given the key to Sylphee.

Turning to Arizona, he motioned for her attention.

"I've been going through our supplies. Between the ammo you and Lester ran through with those Raiders and the Explosives that Sylph used to bring down the building over there, I suspect that we may need to stop for supplies sooner than we had anticipated. Given that Tenpenny Towers is still a fair distance from here, it might be more feasible for us to resupply at Megaton. The girl that owns the supply store these is a bit eclectic but she does have a large stock of ammunition on hand. We could get there by the tail end of tomorrow if we leave in the morning." He stated before adding, "We'll have to be quick about it. I doubt that we'll be wanting the explosives junky to linger too long around the Nuclear Bomb in the town center and Walt knows what sort of trouble Sylphee will get herself into."

Of course, Thomas was unaware that Sylph had already gotten herself into a bit of trouble in that particular town since she'd impaled the proprietor of Moriarty's Saloon in the shoulder with her wrist blade. Had he known that, he would have likely left Sylphee tied to a pole outside the town.

"What do you think?"

 

[Random Fella]

"I might just have a few other things too if ya need em, within reason at least..."

The noise from the ventilation threw Trixie from her focus, quickly she turned to Chesture.
"Well if you have a small knife or tweezers along with some tape..." She paused for a second, noticing a voice coming from the ventilation. "Do you hear that?"

"ERRRR! UUUUUUGH!!! OOOOOMPH!!!"
Trixie's face turned a bright red, right after she was done slapping it with the palm of her hand, that is.
She approached #209 and looked up at him, her hands positioned on her hips with a tad of sass.
"Now how are you going to get us out of this mess you caused up there? Hmm?" She asked in a hushed tone, pulling Chester's small screwdriver from where she was seated.
"Maybe I can make use of you after all, but the rest of your clothes had better be covering your lower end." From this position all she could see was his naked torso and face.
"Give me a quick lift Chester, and you'd better not fall apart while doing so!"

Reaching up to where #209 was positioned, she started jabbing at the screws, the grating was thin, so she missed a few times, stabbing into #209's now fleshy exterior. "Stop squirming!" She stated, loosening the bolts, a creaking noise occurring as the ventilation cover strained to maintain #209's weight.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | The Evil Vault of Doctor Evil
Frictional Forces​

Given the very nature of the setting of the Wild Wastelands and the title of this ongoing series it would only be in the nature of these series of posts to go on about how Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209's muscular rippling body, his sweat glistening in the light of the overhead florescent lighting, muscles heaving against the metal shaft that wrapped itself around him as if desiring to touch every inch and orifice of his body as he was released from the ventilation system opening like a new born baby, his naked body falling upon the hapless Trixie, splashing her face with his manliness before settling on top of her.

Of course that's one way to look at it (you perv). The observational method would have noted that sure Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 was in fact using all of his substantial muscle mass to escape the metal tomb. The issue was that by contacting all of his muscles at once, he was actually causing his body to expand through the flexing of his muscles and increasing the frictional forces that kept hi in place. It was only through sheer accident and the sensation of a spider crawling on his leg that the Enclave Dominator managed to fall out of the opened Ventilation shaft and land on top of Trixie before hopping up and brushing himself off rather briskly as he sought to kill the spider.

"AHHH GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" The rather less than manly looking #209 yelled until a rather large looking spider dropped to the ground with an audible click before skittering off under one of the cell's beds which was soon followed by a number of laser blasts coming from the vicinity of the pistols in #209's hands.

"Goddamn Spiders! I hate those things." Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 said before realizing that the two inhabitants of the cell were looking at him, "What? It's called shrinkage okay? It's cold up there!"

Feeling rather exposed, the Enclave Dominator grabbed a blanket from a bed and wrapped it around his waist before looking at the Trixie and Chester.

"Sooooo... did I miss anything?"

 

[Drummodino]

The Wild Wastelands | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite​

"One... two... THREE!"

~WUMPFFF!~

Sweet, delicious oxygen rushed into Charlie's lungs before being expelled again in a violent fit of coughing. It took him several moments to recover his composure and realise that he hadn't been accidentally strangled to death. Rubbing his sore neck he tuned in to the conversation going on between his strange companions..

"We'll have to be quick about it. I doubt that we'll be wanting the explosives junky to linger too long around the Nuclear Bomb in the town center and Walt knows what sort of trouble Sylphee will get herself into."

"Heh, yea about that bomb... last time I was in Megaton I may or may not have tried to pull it apart..." Charlie chimed in awkwardly. "I'm sure they won't remember that though... maybe."

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wastelands | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite​

Once Charlie was free from Sylphee's clutches, Arizona bent down over him and couldn't help but smirk, even as he started to cough. She had to give the little girl credit, she had an iron-grip whenever she really wanted to give a hug. It was something to be wary of in case she ever got on her good side.

"Ah, you'll be fine." she said after a moment when he finally started to breathe properly again.

She started to make her way back to the car she was using as a seat when Thomas motioned her over and she joined him off to one side.

"I've been going through our supplies. Between the ammo you and Lester ran through with those Raiders and the Explosives that Sylph used to bring down the building over there, I suspect that we may need to stop for supplies sooner than we had anticipated. Given that Tenpenny Towers is still a fair distance from here, it might be more feasible for us to resupply at Megaton. The girl that owns the supply store these is a bit eclectic but she does have a large stock of ammunition on hand. We could get there by the tail end of tomorrow if we leave in the morning. We'll have to be quick about it. I doubt that we'll be wanting the explosives junky to linger too long around the Nuclear Bomb in the town center and Walt knows what sort of trouble Sylphee will get herself into."

She started to nod, but the mention of a Nuclear Bomb made her hesitate. Charlie took notice of it too.

"Heh, yea about that bomb... last time I was in Megaton I may or may not have tried to pull it apart... I'm sure they won't remember that though... maybe."

"Right... Well I can keep an eye on the kid in regards to the bomb, nothing to worry about that. It sounds like a good plan, Thomas. For now though," she said, turning to Charlie and Sylphee, "If either of you two have guns, hand 'em over. If you're going to tag along, chances are I'm going to have to put my life in your hands, and I'm only going to trust properly maintained weapons."

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Conjoined Paths | Temporary Campsite
The French Stickler​

"Okie dokie Missy Leather Faced Lady!" The Crimson Menace exclaimed, excited that she was going to be allowed to carry a gun once again, not that she used guns all that often, but it made the young Blue Haired munchkin feel important. The one problem that Sylphee had was that the last gun that she had been allowed to carry was all the way back in Mister Citermadel inside of some storage room. Sylphee, however, wasn't going to let something as small as distance keep her from carrying a boomstick. This was very likely the reason the young blue eyed, eternally happy little sprite suddenly walked ran skipped off towards the ruins of Mister Fishy Face and Amigos building.

Looking at his Partner, the Former Undertaker sitting by the fire shrugged in am "I have no idea" sort of manner before returning to his duties of preparing something to eat, which was some sort of weird cross between cheese sauce and beef stew. Food in the Wastelands had been getting progressively weirder and weirder in the recent weeks, even the game that Thomas had hunted seemed to be suffering from a cheesy assault on their intestines.

As the under-appreciated former Undertaker finished preparing that night's meal, a strange noise drew closer and closer to the small camp. The sound of something being dragged was reminiscent of the sound a plow makes when being pulled behind a pair of brahmin. Looking up from where he sat, Thomas spotted the rouge rogue pulling a rather large and beat up looking Anti Materiel rifle.

Mister Ti Mat (so named because the rest of the letters in Anti Materiel Rifle had been scratched off) was super super heavy, forcing the Red Menace to drag him behind her as she returned to Missy Leather Faced Lady. The mad trip was brought to a skidding halt when Sylphee attempted to hand Mister Ti Mat to Missy Leather Faced Lady and accidentally dropped him.

BOOOOOOOM! went Mister Ti Mat as he struck the found and went flying into the air before landing on top of Daddy.

CRACK! THUD! SPLISH! Went Daddy as he went to sleep, his face landing in a bowl of dinner.

Not at all worried about her Daddy's medical state, Sylphee picked up Mister Ti Mat and handed him to Missy Leather Faced Lady.

"Here you go, Missy Leather Faced Lady!"

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wastelands | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite​

Sylph, or Sylphee, or whatever the blue-haired girl's name was seemed overly excited at Arizona's demand for whatever guns they had, and she promptly skipped off in the direction of the building that she had demolished not long ago. But it was her response that caused the old Ghoul to glare in her wake.

"Okie dokie Missy Leather Faced Lady!"

"Hey! I have a name, girlie, you better use it!" she called out before sitting down with a huff, muttering, "First Thomas with his 'Old One' shit, now I'm 'Leather Faced Lady'? For fucks sake."

Turning to both Thomas and Charlie, she jerked a thumb in the girl's direction.

"What's her deal anyway? A little bit ago, she was this sullen little thing that didn't mind keeping to herself, now she's this bundle of energy that nearly strangled both of you with the mother of all bear-hugs. What gives?" she asked with a quirked brow.

She didn't get a chance to hear their answers though, since the girl in question made her way back to camp, making an ungodly noise as she dragged something behind her. Arizona found out just what it was when she pulled it up to hand it over, only to drop it. It turned out to be a rifle, and a big one. The moment it hit the ground, it bounced, and promptly hit Thomas, knocking him out cold and sending him face-first into his dinner.

"Oh shit, Thomas!" she cried, rushing over to pull his face out of the stew and check the back of his head.

It didn't seem to injure him too badly from what she could tell. Maybe a concussion at the worst, she thought as she breathed a sigh of relief and gently laid him back. He was guaranteed to have one hell of a headache though when he woke up. Poor Thomas didn't seem to catch a break today. She shook her head and sighed softly before turning to the little blue-haired hellion as she held out the rifle.

"Here you go, Missy Leather Faced Lady!"

"Arizona." she ground out, snatching the rifle out of her hands with an intense glare, "My name is Arizona. Not 'Old One', not 'Leather Faced Lady', not 'Ghoul Whore With The Gun'. It's Arizona. Got it? And please, can you both stop trying to break my guide?"

When she sat back down to look the rifle over, her mouth fell open in a gape. It was easily the worst-maintained Anti-Materiel Rifle she had ever seen, and the state it was in was almost enough to make her weep. It certainly looked like it had barely been cleaned once in two centuries.

"Oh my fucking god, whose rifle is this?! If you took it from one of those assholes in the building, then good riddance! Whoever this poor thing belonged to deserves to die just because of how goddamn filthy this thing is! I'd be surprised if it could even fire like this!" she said with a look that was a cross between pity and insult.

Standing up, she sighed before starting towards the remains of the raiders building.

"I'm going to need more parts for this thing. Don't wait up on my account." she told them.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Conjoined Paths | Temporary Camp
Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun​

That was a rather long name. That was actually a really long name, so long that the Red Menace might have had a rather difficult time remembering it. Sylphee was easy to remember. Daddy was definitely easy to remember and Mister Chuckles Camden was pretty easy as well. Missy "Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun" was a bit of a mouthful. This would definitely not deter the Blue Haired Butcher of Blair Circle. She'd remember Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun's name if it was the last thing she would ever ever ever do... which, given Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun's attitude, it might be.

Sylphee watched as Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun walked off towards some of the ruined buildings that once belonged to Mister Fishy Gishy Face and waited until Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun was just out of view before responding.

"Alright Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun, we'll wait up for you!!" Sylphee called out cheerfully as she started stirring the bubbling stew that had been flavored with Daddy's face, humming cheerfully and loudly before tasting the stew.

"Hmmmm... needs more Rad Scorpion." The Ditzy Assassin exclaimed as she pulled Mister Pinchy out of her pack. It appeared that Mister Pinchy was almost finishing the process of regenerating his stinger and was violently trying to pinch Sylphee's face off.

"Oh calm down Mister Pinchy! This won't hurt." The Blue Eyed Idiot said soothingly before she plucked Mister Pinchy's half formed stinger off of his tail with an expert twist, "There! See? That wasn't so bad was it?"

Apparently Mister Pinchy agreed because he had gone limp.

Depositing the half formed stinger into the stew, Sylphee stirred the bubbling mixture a bit before tasting it.

"Perfect!" Sylphee squee'd as she put some on a bowl for Mister Chucky Camden, "Here you go Mister Chucky Camden! Eat up! You'll need your strength."

Grabbing a bowl for herself, Sylphee laid on her Daddy's belly as she waited for Mister Chucky Camden's verdict on the stew.

 

[Drummodino]

The Wild Wastelands | Intersecting Paths | Temporary Campsite​

Charlie's Going Through One of Those Phases​

"I'll keep my gun thank you very much. It works just fine." Charlie responded to Arizona, somewhat snappily. He knew that he was being a bit of a jerk but the events of the day were wearing on him and he was rather tired of being lectured at by the two newcomers.

After Sylphee ran off before he could stop her Charlie spent the time waiting for her return checking his gear, making sure all his explosives were secure and not about to fail. His armour had gone through a lot recently but it was still holding together fairly well, apart from the hole in his glove where the shrapnel had gone through. Hopefully he could get that fixed in Megaton or wherever it was they ended up going from here.

Sylphee's return brought about Arizona's departure. Mumbling and grumbling about the state of the rifle she stalked off into the ruins. As far as Charlie was concerned the rifle had served well enough already, giving Sylphee's "Father" a good brain rattling. He had to suppress a smile at that, it wasn't nice to gloat over others pain. It did make him feel good though. What did not was the sight of Sylphee preparing him some radscorpion-flavoured stew.

"Here you go Mister Chucky Camden! Eat up! You'll need your strength."

"Uh... sure Sylphee." Charlie said, taking the bowl nervously. With the boisterous girl watching him expectantly he couldn't not eat the food...

Taking a deep breath Charlie took a spoonful and shoved it in his mouth. The flavour was acidic and overpowering, burning the back of his throat and rising up into his nose. Swallowing the painful brew he coughed before weakly smiling at Sylphee.

"Not bad Sylphee. It's strong but good." He lied, hoping she'd be satisfied with that so he could dispose of the poisonous dish.

 

[Neuromancer]

The bathroom was surprisingly clean and functional for a saloon built out of scrap from a scrap city built around an atomic bomb. The floor, walls, appliances and mirror were (somewhat) clean, the toilet didn't have human waste decomposing in it, and the shower, small though it was, looked so clean he wondered if anyone had ever used it. Moriarty, sad excuse of a human being as he was, at the very least offered services worthy of the coin he asked for, for along with what he had seen of the rest of the room, it was the bestquality he had encountered since the fall of Raven Rock.

He could use a shower, though he doubted he'd have the time for it. Considering how he had found Kristin, it seemed evident that she was in the mood for... other things, and he was afraid she would be filled with wroth if he were to request time to shower.

Or even worse, join him.

No. Nononono. Showering would not do for now. He hurriedly removed his clothes, reluctant to keep her waiting to long, a motion he abandoned once he saw his naked upper body in the mirror, letting out a groan of dissatisfaction as his insecurities resurfaced. He looked... skeletal, and along with his body hanging from old age, he looked extremely unattractive. Just... what the hell did she see in him?

Anxiety rising, he turned away from the mirror. He had survived bandits, deathclaws, super mutants! Why the hell did this have to bugger him so? Placing his clothes on the left corner of the room, he turned to his backpack, starting to search for the spares. As he did, though, he saw something and immediately stopped in his tracks.

The cross pendant. Just seeing it made his already bad mood worsen. He picked it up and stared for a second, before clunching it in his fist bitterly and finally putting it back in the pack.

Don't go there now, Jon. You have more pressing matters to deal with.

Yes. Right. Back to reality. He found the clothes, except... It wasn't his spares. It was the clothing that Lucy Black had left for him, Isaac's clothes.

"It's family tradition to help those that we meet."

Lucy... how was she, he wondered. He felt guilty for not going to the clinic to check on her. But he... didn't have the mental fortitude to face her. No, stop. Don't dwell on it. The day had been difficult enough as it were; he needed time to recharge lest the negativity swallowed him whole.

That wasn't exactly a hopeful prospect.

He wore the clothes: a white dress shirt and brown trousers. They were his size, except for the fact that they were made for a person his size that at least ate every day, and so felt a bit... spacious. Rolling up the sleeves up to the forearm, he also changed the bandage on his left hand, rolling it all the way up to the sleeve. He took one more look at the mirror, stroked his filthy almost-beard, and turned back to his backpack, taking out a plastic bag containing shaving gel, a razor and aftershave. Shaving had a bit of a risk attached to it due to the fact that it would take some amount of time and he didn't want to keep her waiting, but it was one he was willing to take; he looked like shit, yes, but maybe he could look less so.

Shit is shit. What's the point?

Was he really arguing with himself about shaving? Damn it, old man, get it together. Just fucking do it. And so he did. Burying his issues about his looks deep in a layer of shaving cream, Jonathan found himself absorbed in the act, for it worked well as a distraction. Unfortunately for him, one cannot ignore reality forever, and in his case it came knocking on the bathroom door. His chest tightened. The princess had grown impatient it would seem. The knocking stopped for a second, and all that followed was silence. He couldn't stop his hands shaking, and his breaths had become short.

"Mister Jonathan," the princess finally said, breaking the silence. Did she... really call him mister? She didn't exactly seem the kind to stick to formalities. Something was amiss. Was the change of attitude another attempt at bedding him? Surely it was so; she had been direct with the way she was "sleeping", so it made sense that, seeing it didn't work, she would try something more subtle. Too bad she wasn't good with subtleties, then, for he saw through her attempt immediately.

Not even a moment's respite, he thought to himself. The princess had been relentless with her advances, but he wasn't quite ready yet. All he asked for was a bit of patience as he prepared himself for the act. But then again, the princess had proven that she wasn't exactly the understanding sort. His treatment during most of the day had proved evidence enough.

And so, with razor in trembling hand, he went back to shaving. She'd get what she wanted, but not before he was ready aswell. It was only fair, after all.

"Thank you for my outfit, it's - erm - certainly different from what I usually wear."

It only just occured to him that he hadn't quite seen what he had gotten her. Was that a hint of hesitation that he spied in her voice? Surely not; the woman was willing to walk around in her underwear, whatever it was that he had gotten her surely was tame in comparison. He cleaned the razor with water and continued.

"I - I - "

Jonathan threw a glance at the door before going back to shaving. This behaviour she was exhibiting was highly uncharacteristic. He couldn't help but wonder what was the cause of this sudden switch in moods. Was she suffering from a behavioural disorder? Or was this also one of her easy-to-spot tricks? He couldn't help but feel she was humouring him.

"I don't know what you think of me, or what kind of person you think I am - and that's something I want to discuss - although, I fear that I might have the wrong impression about you - which is also something I want to discuss - and there are things I need to explain - but you - I don't know if you want to in the first place..."

He turned to stare at the door, puzzled, before shaking his head and going back to shaving. The girl was making even less sense than before, and her mumbling was as incoherent as it was annoying. He couldn't quite grasp what her problem was, or why she was being so frustratingly unintelligible, or why of all the times to talk about whatever the fuck she was talking about she chose this time when she had made it clear that she wanted a good fuck to pass the night.

"I didn't have enough money to afford two rooms. Then the clothes, and the radiation happened - I trust your judgement, so I got undressed."

Yeah, right. He was growing tired of her charade and the situation she had thrown him in, and her last words felt like she was insulting his intelligence. And it showed, for his barberwork had grown from being very attentive to detail to rash and rough. Good thing he was almost done, then, for he wanted it done. He wanted it all done. The shaving, the sex, the night... let it be all be done already.

"I'm a virgin, okay? This is not how I want it to happen, not that there's anything wrong with you!"

The razor drew blood as Jonathan turned to stare at the door, his mouth hanging, unable to take action or even muster a thought. The princesses' words hit him like a tree falling on an inexperienced lumberjack, and he stood there starring for a good few seconds. It wasn't often that he found himself in such loss of words or moves or thought, and he didn't quite know what to make of what was said, but there was one thing he was certain of.

He was glad that a door was separating them.

"I'm just not ready for it at all."


What the hell... was she talking about?! Had she not been the one to do this with all her advancements and not-quite-subtle-but-subtle-enough seduction? No way this was part of her foreplay; such degrees of manipulation were well above her. If so, then was she really having second thoughts?

"I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."

Ruined his evening? Was she really so blind so as to see that this wasn't what he wanted? That-

"I made us dinner if you would like. Finely sliced brahmin jerky & noodles, topped with white Blamco cheese."

Oh no.

"I'll understand if this is our last meal together."

Nonononononononono.

Everything slowly started making sense. All that bullshit she was saying about getting wrong impressions wasn't, in fact, bullshit.

She thought he was in love with the Princess of BlamCo.

He gave off such a bad impression he could hardly believe how blind he was to seeing it. Of course she got the wrong impression! He had stared at her breasts for what seemed to be an eternity and stuttered like a mentally challenged super mutant. And considering how uncomfortable she sounded and how she thought she had ruined his evening... Boy, did she have quite the bad idea of him. She really thought that he wanted to seduce her? How had he given her such a ba-

Of course. He was Enclave, it's what they did. Lies, murder and emotional manipulation. Still, she had made dinner for the both of them. Was she perhaps actually giving him a chance to explain himself? If so, he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

He sighed, and went back to shaving. The wound from the razor was only a shallow one and had already stopped bleeding. He finished, and took a look at the mirror. He looked like a plain, old university professor. Or at least, a university professor that was dragged into a top-secret organization orchistrating the salvation (or maybe end) of the world. But at least, he no longer had to care so much about his looks, because the princess wasn't quite interested in them. That fact made him feel a bit disappointed for a fraction of a second, though he couldn't quite figure out why. Checking the bandage on his hand to make sure it hadn't gone loose, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

The princess, anxiously sitting on the bed as she was, jolted upwards at the sound of the door that one of her hairpins, poor substitute for a button as it were, launched off the dress shirt, revealing a bit of cleavage.

So that was the clothes he had gotten her... well... it was something, he supposed. He couldn't deny she looked rather attrac-

Shaking his head for a brief second, Jonathan took another deep breath and eyed the princess sternly. He had one chance to make amends for the day, and by the hells he wasn't about to let it go to waste.

"You... aren't the only one that was given the wrong impression..." he started, regretful of the farce of a scene he had contributed to making, before collecting his words to be more neutral and collected, "But that doesn't matter. You have prepared us dinner and wish to talk. Shall we begin?"

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | The Wierder Wastelands
///Totally Random Unconscious Happenstance///​

If Thomas "Shifty" McGee has passed away due to massive head trauma caused by the impact of a rather large anti-materiel rifle against the back of his head, he certainly had never dreamed that the after life could be so... boring. Where ever it was that the formerly conscious former Undertaker found himself, it was certainly... grey... and certainly massive. This Purgatory for the Wounded Heads had all the qualities that one might find in your typical desert, if one were to remove the cacti, the vultures, the poisonous biting or stinging insects and even the blazing sun that should have been beating down on the now thoroughly depressed Thomas McGee. Despite the fact that this afterlife, or what he believed was the afterlife, was far away from what he had been raised to expect the grey emptiness wasn't the most disheartening feature of this Afterlife for the Unconscious, it was who was there with him.

"Of all the Levels of Hell in all of Existence, you walked into mine," Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 muttered, not bothering to look at him as she continued to survey their featureless domain, "I must have stumbled into the level for souls who died in a ridiculous fashion."

"What makes you think that I died in a ridiculous fashion?" Thomas asked, half thinking that he should get the Power Armored ***** before she said another word, stopping himself with the thought that he should wait since she had an eternity of ass kicking coming to her, a few minutes of delayed gratification wouldn't stop her from getting her just desserts.

"You and your ghoul were heading on an intersecting path with that Blue Haired Air Head and her equally Air Headed Companion, I figured that it was only a matter of time before she killed you in some ridiculous manner, that is her M.O. isn't it?" The Unholy Incarnation of ***** stated.

"How'd you know that we ran into each other?" The Formerly Conscious Undertaker asked, before a glare from the ***** Queen forced him to remember that the Enclave Intelligence Specialist was a member of the Enclave Intelligence Services. She had ways of keeping her eyes on him. The question remain:

"Why were you spying on me?"

"Ha! Spying on a washed up maggot who drowns himself in as much alcohol as he can get his grubby hands on so that he can forget how he failed to protect the one woman that he ever promised anything to? As much as I'd love to inflate your sense of self importance, I had my eyes on bigger fish, namely the very same woman that you were killing yourself over." The Enclave Intelligence Asshole said with a sneer.

"Lucy?! You told me that she was dead!" The Angry Undertaker retorted though there was a sense of relief at the realization that she wasn't dead.

"No, not dead... yet. If that knife went deeper into her eye socket she might have been."

The sense of rage that had been building up pressure since he first spotted the Enclave Queen ***** peeked and started overflowing as Thomas found himself charging at the woman who hadn't bothered to get up yet. The wild, unaimed haymaker impacted against the woman's face, sending her backwards, though Thomas would have preferred to have sent her to a different level of Hell, one reserved for incarnations of Evil C**ts.

The impact of the strike didn't seem to phase the woman, however as she used the momentum the punch had imparted on her body to roll backwards and onto her feet before she sent a roundhouse kick to Thomas' midsection. There was a loud crack as rubs fractured from the power assisted strike. Strangely enough, however, there was no pain from either the kick nor the fractured bones.

Seeing that the woman had followed through with her kick and was spinning around for a back heel kick, the Former Provider of Last Rights charged towards the woman's planted leg, knocking her onto her back. Before she could get up, Thomas was on her, kicking her in the mid section. As Thomas attempted to punt the ***** into next week, her arm reached out and knocked his feet from under him, sending him flailing on top of her, which was just fine with him as he started punching the stupid grin off her face.

Not to be outdone, Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 reached out, wrapping her hands around Thomas' scrawny neck and brought it down towards hers, his nose making a popping noise as it met the woman's forehead. The broken nose didn't seem to phase the tall and pale berserker as he continued to try to pound the woman's face towards the back of her skull.

It could have been anywhere between 30 seconds and 30 centuries before the brawl was finished, the two fighters laying down in a pile of panting bruised bodies.

"I'll... huff huff ... be ready for... round 2... huff huff... in a second." Thomas McGee stated as he tried to catch his breath.

"No... no... huff huff... need to rush... huff huff... to another... beating." Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 said as she looked at the man who was laying next to her. It'd been a while since anyone had been able to fight her to a standstill without having to resort to some sort of trickery, like waiting for her to administer first aid on a woman who had gouged her own eye out [footnote]Eyes @Neuromancer[/footnote].

"What the hell are you looking at?" Thomas asked as he realized that she was staring at him.

"Nothing... are you ready to go again?" Charlotte asked, not moving yet.

"Yeah... just ... a minute." Thomas responded as he checked his ribs to find that they had healed.

"Tell me... what do you see in that traitorous woman anyways? You can't think that any woman that would willingly leave you in the hands of her mortal enemy would be willing to start any sort of relationship with you, do you?" #411 found herself asking, "I could do it."

"You couldn't what... care about anyone?" Thomas returned fire.

"Fuck you."

"No. Fuck you." The normally well versed Undertaker spat back before he found a hand wrapped around his neck, bringing his head towards hers. Instead of an impact on his nose, he felt something else...

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Conjoined Paths
///The Realm of the Conscious///​

"AAAARGH!! Get away from me you Crazy Fucking *****!" Thomas yelled out as he sat up suddenly before he could realize that he wasn't... where ever it was that he had been. Looking around, he saw that he was back at the camp... with Sylphee sitting next to him and her fisty companion sitting not too far away.

"Crap." Thomas muttered, hoping that Charlie wouldn't get the urge to punch him again.

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Megaton
///The Realm of the Conscious///​

Opening her eyes, Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 saw that she was in the Megaton Clinic, her arms strapped down to a gurney with guards posted nearby.

"Great." #411 muttered as she laid her head back against the hard but thankfully cold pillow that the doctor had kindly placed behind her head. Looking to her right, she saw Lucy Black laying in a bed, the empty eye socket having been professionally dressed by the doctor.

"Lucky *****." She muttered as she passed out again, this time seeing nothing as she went to sleep.

 

[evilengine]

"Well if you have a small knife or tweezers along with some tape..."

He didn't move, thinking for a moment, his stock whizzing through his head, keeping a mental inventory on everything he collected.

"Sorry, Ma'am, afraid to say I've no tweezers of the like on me; bathroom, toiletries, and sanitary products are kept in the right-hand satchel, which I was unfortunately separated from... I do have a knife though, just be carefu..."

The noise and commotion from the vent interrupted the cell mates, all clattering and squealing.

"Give me a quick lift Chester, and you'd better not fall apart while doing so!"

"Surprised if the whole damn prison can't here us..." Chester grunted, helping Trix up. "And don't you worry, Miss Trix, it'll take more than a young lady of your size to break any of these bones, just watch where you put them feet of yurs."

...

"Sooooo... did I miss anything?"

"Nah, always the same few episodes, you didn't miss a thing," he said, waving his radio and sitting back on the floor as he watched #209 fumble around to cover himself.

"Me and the young lady been thinking of ways out, though by the looks of it your way in won't take us to salvation and freedom. But, if you've got any fresh ideas, soldier-boy, that don't involve us getting shot or thrown in a shark pool I'd be willing to hear you out."

He looked around, from Trixie's disapproving expression to #209 wrapped himself in bedsheets, flailing his pistol around at anything resembling a spider.

"Hrmm, a young woman, a ghoul, and a naked soldier are in an supervillain prison cell... you couldn't make it up, could ya?"

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wasteland | Conjoined Paths | Temporary Camp​

As she stalked off towards the rubble where Sylph had scrounged up her Anti-Materiel Rifle, she glanced back as Charlie snapped at her regarding his Laser Pistol.

"I'll keep my gun thank you very much. It works just fine."

"Man, what a brat." she murmured with a backward glare, before she started digging through the debris.

As she searched one mangled corpse after another for anything suitable to help fix the rifle, she couldn't help but think that Sylph was easily one of the most destructive people she had met so far. Oh, sure, she had known some explosive-happy fiends in her travels, but none that had leveled an office building. And Thomas was well on his way to being having some of the worst luck she could think of, though he wasn't there yet. She had no idea if he had been shot in the ass at some point before now.

By the time she was finished gathering decent parts for Sylph's gun and made her way back to the camp, Charlie was busy trying to choke down whatever Thomas had made for food.

"Not bad Sylphee. It's strong but good."

She nodded slightly to herself. It seemed Sylph, or Sylphee, whichever it was, had added a little something of her own to the stew. The look on Charlies face was enough to tell her that it probably wasn't something as harmless as a dash of pepper. A wicked grin spread on her face as she dumped the rifle and parts on the ground, then quickly added some more stew to his bowl before getting a bowl of her own.

"You like it, huh? Well here, have some more. You're a growing boy after all." she said before turning to Sylph, "In fact, make sure he eats every single bite Sylph. He's going to need it if he's going to put some hair on his chest."

When she sat down and took a spoonful, she froze. The taste was almost indescribable, but she had the feeling that if one took the stew and spread it over some fresh corpses, even buzzards wouldn't be so much as tempted to take a bite. It was almost the worst taste she had ever experienced, though she vaguely remembered having something worse at some point. But she couldn't place what it was.

Swallowing hard, she set the bowl down and glanced over at Thomas. Still out cold, it seemed. With a sigh, she tugged her pack over and started to dig through it, pulling out her single syringe of Med-X. She had started to stride over when Thomas woke up with a start.

"AAAARGH!! Get away from me you Crazy Fucking *****!"

Arizona stopped a step away from him and blinked.

"I'm gonna assume you aren't referring to me." she said dryly before tossing the Med-X onto his lap.

"There, for your headache. And take care of the stew, its... Strong." she added, striding back to her place by the fire and starting to work on the rifle.

There was no way she was going to eat what was in the bowl next to her. She valued her stomach lining, at least to the point that she didn't want anything but alcohol to eat away at it. And she was pretty sure that, whatever that Blue-Haired Girl added to it wasn't hooch.

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

Talion - Old Olney

The man in the longcoat rubbed his chin in thought.

FalloutDavid: Hmmm, that's a good point.

He pulled out a communicator and apparently called for an...air-strike? Afterwhich, he hung up and gestured for Talion to walk with him.

FalloutDavid: They'll be dropping napalm in a moment. Much faster and more effective. I'm afraid you'll have to walk a bit if you want to hose off anywhere.

Talion nodded "Good, the faster the better if it follows the stories."

As he walked with the man, Talion started to think. The behemoth was dead which meant the next task was the plants but information on that was limited. The unarmoured strangers in black vertibirds with access to napalm, he might as well ask them if they knew anything about it or if they had seen that robot that he was on the lookout for. But first there was another question, who were they. Kind of an important detail who they were he thought considering that they had access to vertibirds.

Resting his hand on his revolver he spoke "My name is Talion. Would you mind telling me who you are and how you managed to get your hands on that?" he motioned with his other hand at the vertibird that the man had repelled from.

 

[Random Fella]

Wait, what?

A distinctive 'slap' was heard as #209 landed pelvis first onto Trixie's face, followed by frantic screeching and shooting over a tiny arachnid.
Trixie's face had become one of fury, but the fact of the matter was she needed the now armed soldier boy to get out of this box.

"Sooooo... did I miss anything?"

Trixy jumped toward #209, covering his mouth and furiously pointing at his weapon. No, I mean the laser pistol, obviously.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? If the guards find you in here who knows what they'll do to us." She whispered in an agitated tone, her eyes darting to and from the small window on the door.

"Me and the young lady been thinking of ways out, though by the looks of it your way in won't take us to salvation and freedom. But, if you've got any fresh ideas, soldier-boy, that don't involve us getting shot or thrown in a shark pool I'd be willing to hear you out."

"You're lucky I need you for this, otherwise I'd have left you in that vent!" She barked at #209 in a hushed tone, wiping her face frantically.
Grabbing the knife and tape, she made some final adjustments to the strange wired object she'd constructed from Chester's Radio parts.

She let go of #209, turning toward the door.
"There's no locks on this door, it's operated electronically, if I can send a shock to the right location, it might just be enough to trigger an automatic unlock."
She peered back and forth to Chester and #209
"However without any proper anti-grounding footwear, this kind of shock will probably hurt, a lot..." Trixie let out a short sigh.
"It sounds like there's at least two guards directly outside the door, probably armed, this is where you come in." She pointed at #209.
"As soon as the door opens, you'll need to spring out and disable them."
She glanced back at Chester "I hope you have some basic firearms knowledge."

Signalling for the both of them to stand by the door, Trixie positioned the device to a specific location on the wall, almost as if she was feeling for it.
"Here it goes..." She flicked the switch, a visible shock ran through her body, causing her muscles to spasm.
The door suddenly opened, Trixie's body began to fall backwards toward the ground, while she started to slowly repeat the same sentence. In a strange, feminine, monotone voice.

"P-W-0-3-5 Requesting Girder"
...
"P-W-0-3-5 Requesting Girder"
...
"P-W-0-3-5 Requesting Girder"
...

 

[Generic NPC 22]

Spoiler: THIS IS NO MORE!!!!

The Wild Wastelands | Conjoined Paths | Temporary Camp
///Because Someone Has Family for Easter///​

I'm gonna assume you aren't referring to me." The Stern Machine Wielding Ghoul and Partner to the Formerly Unconscious but now conscious and quite embarrassed former Undertaker of the East said as she tossed him a syringe of Med-X, drug that kept on giving. Now, Thomas didn't know much about medicines but he was pretty sure that mixing Med-X with alcohol was a no-no, sort of like how mixing BlamCo cheese with water rather than milk was a no-no as well, though one would only give you a nasty case of goo mouth rather where as the other would send you into a coma.

"You weren't talking me me, were you Daddy?" Sylphee asked from where she stood, dusting off the back of her skirt from where she had landed after Thomas had surprised her enough to cause her to fly backwards a couple meters.

"No... no no no." Thomas McGee responded rather quickly. As much as he enjoyed being knocked in the head by Sylphee's over sized rifle that looked like it had been built to bring down satellites from space, he doubted he would have enjoyed the Red Menace's over bearing body guard punching him in the face until the back of Thomas' eyeballs met the back of his skull, not that he was afraid of the kid, he was more afraid of what Arizona would do if another fight broke out. He hated to think of what would be next on the punishment scale after the hug.

"Just a bad dream about a woman that I would have been rather happy having never met." The sharply dressed man said as he picked up the bowl and shoveled a large spoonful of the Sylphee Special into his mouth. Chewing on the food, Thomas suddenly stopped for a moment when his dazed taste buds had a moment to actually register that they were tasting something rather unpleasant. Thomas had always found it strange that people start chewing more slowly when tasting something foul and yet, there he was chewing the Sylphee Surprise quite slowly as his tongue attempted to find a spot in Thomas' mouth that wasn't covered in stew.

"Needs... something." Thomas stated as he poured some of the ShroomShine into the bowl, hoping that the alcohol would kill the taste of whatever it was that he was tasting.

"Hey Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun, do you like my Daddy?" Thomas overheard Sylphee asking, causing him to choke on his meal even more.

[hr]

Meanwhile in Doctor Evil's Vault of Evil...​

Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 simply stared at the form of Trixie as she fell backwards, muttering something about Girders. Catching the woman before she hit the back of her head on the floor, the man who was used to carrying weapons capable of leveling whole battalions in seconds, noticed that the weird woman was slightly heavier than she should be. This meant that #209 would have to pick her up into a lame looking Fireman's Carry rather than an infinitely cooler looking cradle.

"HEY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN THERE AND HOW THE FUCK DID YOU OPEN THAT DOOR AND WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NAKED?!" A voice from beyond the doorway screamed.

"Oh... that's right. The guards," Enclave Dominator #209 remembered as he moved scrambled through the door to deliver a kick to the first guard's chest, sending him against the wall, which was thankfully crafted of unforgiving, bone shattering metal. A satisfying crack informed #209 that the guard was going to be out of commission for some time... like forever.

Behind him, the second guard was unshouldering his weapon while attempting to grab for his radio. This gave the Enclave Soldier the opportunity to shoot a hole in the second guard's chest with the miniature feeling laser pistol. As the guard crumpled to the floor Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 felt a momentary pang of disappointment at the lack of explosions or dismemberment or even blood.

"P-W-0-3-5 Requesting Girder" The woman slung over #209's shoulders repeated.

"What the hell is this lady talking about?" #209 asked Chester.