And now, a Jackelude.
You open this door with either the key of imagination or a quick twist to the left, just in case it sticks. Once open, space melts away until only the door remains, and the interior comes into full view. The Bar Beyond Time And Space is a place where one can meet oneself coming and going, and that is precisely what is happening now. Into the bar strode the familiar black powersuit with green energy highlights, signifying that this man was Cornelius Jack, Enclave Fallout Sector. He had received an invitation to come here, stating that it was of the utmost importance. And underneath that glaring helmet, he was indeed surprised to see...JACKS!
Jack: No way... It's
you guys.
Three men at a booth, one spot left open for him. The first man was a fellow dressed like something out of
Mad Max, a barely-concealed blue overall underneath, with a laser rifle on his back and a sledgehammer at his side. The next one was in an old-style gray Enclave powersuit, the helmet off and a Solar Scorcher on the table near it. Finally, the last one was a guy in a Shady Hat, dressed in leather armor, with a plasma rifle on his back and a Wasteland Survival Guide on the table. Or, in short, these guys were in fact the Vault Dweller, the Chosen One, and the Lone Wanderer - all of them named Jack.
VD: Have a seat, man. Take a load off.
Jack: Uhh, sure.
He did so, removing his own helmet and ordering a drink.
Jack: Man, it's weird, like I'm staring at a bunch of freaky mirrors.
CO: Yeah, it takes some getting use to, sort of like walking in on the Cafe of Broken Dreams. This place is better, though.
Jack: So, all of you are aspects of my personality, right? Because I'm a composite character?
LW: That about sums it up. Nice fourth wall break, by the way.
Jack: Hey, this is the Bar. There's no fourth wall here. This series leans on it a bit hard, as is. So, is everybody in here me right now?
VD: Not all of us. That guy, for instance?
He indicated the man sitting at the counter, drinking a shot of whiskey. They all had black hair, but his was brown, and a different sort of face. He looked younger too, and had on a Suave Gambler Hat on with combat armor and leather pants. On his belt was a formidable-looking laser pistol, with the words 'Pew Pew' etched into the side.
VD: He's a Courier.
LW: Listen, Jack... We wanted to warn you. I mean, you ARE a composite character and all, so it only stands to reason that certain things could change your basic structure a bit.
Jack: What? Why would that happen?
CO: Because of
him.
Jack: Who?
VD: It's been a long time coming, Jack. The legend has to continue, and it will...soon.
Jack: Will you guys stop being cryptic and just tell me already?
LW: We wanted to warn you about
that guy.
They all pointed to a man coming out of the bathroom and heading for he door. Jack couldn't help but utter "Holy shit!" as the man from Vault 111 stepped out. It would come to pass...in the not-too-distant future.
Jack: Thanks for the warning... Anything I can do for
you guys?
VD: Certainly. Tell us who Number One is.
Jack: I can't do that. That would be telling.
CO: Aw, come on! Be a pal!
Jack: I'm sorry, I can't. Buuut...I'll tell you the secret of our Vault.
LW: We're all ears!
Jack: Back before the war, when the American Government and armed military forces were building the Vaults through their ownership of Vault-Tec, the Fort Knox facility was made as the most important project of all, not only because of its sheer power and weapons development, but for so much more! What they built down there was more maddening and powerful than anything you've ever seen.
VD: Was it Number One?
Jack: No, it wasn't Number One! It was-
Suddenly, a green-skinned super mutant [http://i107.photobucket.com/albums/m315/MagnusReaper/Santa-Kirk.jpg] in a festive holiday garb dropped a bunch of presents wrapped in mole-rat skin on their table. It was Santa Kirk, the christmas mutant!
Santa Kirk: Urrgh. Is time to make rounds. I go now.
He stepped outside...to his robot-drawn rocket-sleigh...and climbed aboard. He had no time to listen to story spoilers. Christmas was coming, and he had to get going. He shouted to his robots, a bunch of souped-up Mr. Gutsy types.
Santa Kirk:
On Richard, on Hamlet! On Slippery John and Mark Hamill! On Belcher and Badass, on Basher and Whomper! MAZINGER GO!!!
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"This is Number One speaking. Prepare the MGB for its next mission!"
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"Ugh, get those bastards on the radio. I've had enough of this."
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"Greetings, Mr. Bloom. I understand you've been acting against my people lately."
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"This is Threeee Dog, coming to you with the latest, greatest. This just in: Transmissions from the MOON have just come in. Seems there's been a man living up in space all this time, but he just can't get in touch with the right people. Exclusive interview to follow..."
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While Lucy and company were dealing with things - Lucy having to say goodbye, to head off to the Citadel and settle things there - Isaac looked Jonathan over carefully. This man had his life, but his mind and his soul had been put through the wringer. He needed something quiet, something secure, something...not within the reach of the Enclave. The Brotherhood of Steel was a good choice, but there'd always be that friction. Jon may not be in good terms like he himself was. GNR was a place of good and honest work, though...hmmm. He might not like Three Dog. Hold on...
Isaac: While I was helping out the Brotherhood, I met a man - A ghoul, actually - who seemed alright. Rich guy, very business-oriented, has his own town somewhere west of here...but more importantly, he's operated out of Rivet City. What do you think? Big armored ship of a town, safely in Brotherhood territory without actually having them close at hand?
Jonathan raised an eyebrow at what he was being told. The promise of protection, a chance at an honest living, far, far away from this damnable business, a chance at escape.
But then again, look where escaping got me last time. This whole deal looked too good to be true.
Must be because it is.
"I'm afraid it isn't quite so simple..." he smilled weakly, and rubbed his neck, "If there's one thing I've learned in the past ten years, is that the past has a tendency to catch up with you,"
Even when least expected. "The Enclave is aware of my existence now. Lucy has explained the situation, hasn't she? Sorrowfield is the motivated bunch. No way she'll let me go, no matter how much I run. And besides, if I work for her, that means less heat on your backs. As long as I work for her, I can assure that she sends no heat your way. May even get her to keep heat off your back."
He put a cig in his mouth, lit it up with a match and inhaled. Violent coughing followed, and he frowned; it was gonna take him a while yet to get used to them, "I swear, this brand packs one hell of a punch!" he joked, or rather attempted to. "I just... figure that it's time I atoned. I've caused enough grief out here. Maybe... Maybe I can do some good, for once."
As soon as Jonathan mentioned things catching up to you, Isaac had this look on his face that said 'Really now. I hadn't
noticed.' like he really shouldn't have to mention that to the no-longer-dead man, but he did not interrupt him. It was better to let people speak their peace before delivering more. Besides, that coughing fit all of a sudden had him worried, cigarettes or not.
Isaac: Well, whatever you do, don't overdo it, that's what I say. But in all seriousness, Jon, it doesn't sound to me like getting involved with this Charlotte woman is the 'good' you're looking for. Helping out the Wasteland is
always a good thing, but don't do it for
them. In the end, I always figured there was something inhuman down there in the Vault. Maybe it was Number One or maybe it was something else. Or maybe both. I couldn't take it any longer, not when I had finished training my protege and had a daughter to look after. They don't give you happiness, old friend, just duty and more duty.
"I know." bluntly stated Jonathan, and took a pause to inhale again. He didn't cough this time. "I've already gone through all that for the majority of my life. Difference is, I'm not doing this for them." he stared at his hands, "These hands are stained with the blood of all the innocents my creations brought suffering to. Yours and Lucy's included. My... craftsmanship is considered unparalled, key to many a success for the Enclave!" he mockingly imitated the congratulatory tone, "How ironic, then, that with it I can now plant the seeds of its destruction."
He turned to look Isaac in the eyes, his stare tired but determined, "I built my reputation creating weapons with the intent to destroy, and it is on that reputation that #411 is cashing upon. So, I will give her what she wants: A weapon to surpass the GRP."
A weak smile appeared across the edge of his lips, "Heh. I probably sound mad, and may well be. I will admit that my gambit is equivocal, and prospects are grim. If I pull it off, then we'll all be better off from it. If not... I will have made all contingencies so that it doesn't cause collateral damage."
And besides, it's not like the lifeless body of a single old man will mean anything to the Wasteland.
"I wish I could go into further detail, but I get the feeling that we're being watched. Shifty was being tailed by aerial drones. I don't want to risk jeopardising the plan. I can only ask you to trust me."
Isaac nodded.
Isaac: I understand, and it wouldn't surprise me. Good luck, Jon.
"Thank you, Isaac. This may have not been the best of reunions but... I'm glad you're alive." He eyed Lucy waiting not too far away, "I'm glad to know that she's in safe hands now. I don't doubt Shifty's combat abilities, but that boy is heading into something way over his head." He turned to his friend, "You'll be leaving soon, yes?"
Another nod.
Isaac: Yeah, pretty soon. I wish there was something more I could do for you. We haven't exactly had the easiest of lives, you and I. I'll try and think of something, though. Stay safe, Jon, whatever you do.
With this handled, Isaac now turned back to his daughter, still saying her goodbyes. Suddenly, the rather ancient-looking ghoul turned to him after having shoved some caps back into Lucy's arms.
"As for you, Isaac Black, if we ever meet again, remind me to buy you a drink. I'm sure by that point we'll both have plenty of fucked-up shit to talk about."
The man let off a smile, then.
Isaac: I'll take you up on that, sure.
And now, it was officially a conga line of acquaintances, as William Knight handed over the keys to the bikes.
"You could do with faster transportation. Just be careful with the suspension, we've been overloading them for some time. Just be careful in general really. You two just found each other, it's important not to abandon something like that."
Isaac: I will, thanks.
And with that, they parted company. He and Lucy had some decent rides and a destination, which they would now be off to. As they mounted up to get going - the other party headed off to Dunwich - Isaac turned to his daughter now.
Isaac: So, what's all this Sylphy business about, anyway?
Fade to Black.
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Meanwhile, inside Megaton...
SPLORCH!!!
Those three look...ewww...
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So, at last the party bound for Dunwich was heading off. Moving at speeds of
walking, they began to drum up a conversation regarding...well, had anybody actually
been there? Oh sure, everyone had heard the stories. About the hauntings, the voices, the sheer amount of feral ghouls that go in and out of there every year... The more Evan heard about it, the more irritated he felt inside. That pink-haired girl, Natsuki, had forced them into this. Her reasoning had been to help the Blacks, but it looked as though they helped themselves out of the frying pan to head for home base. Evan would have gladly called that much 'Mischief Managed', but hearing how this girl had apparently tipped them all off to the dangers ahead AND that this was another trip financed by Morgan Bloom told him that this was serious business...and that Natsuki would have their heads if they backed out.
Evan:
Somehow, I'm gonna get back at that girl. Somehow...
They were talking about ghouls, sandwiches, and masks about now. Arizona - the ghoul ON this trip, mentioned cutting it from raider or feral faces. Well, she wasn't
wrong, but it WAS kinda' wrong...to do, that is. The mention of
sea monsters didn't help either. Just what were they getting themselves into here?
Evan: Umm...so...let's say we actually use these masks to...blend in. What's our actual mission goal?
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Constance chuckled lightly at Miss Jenna's mention of a potential invasion of Megaton. There were no such plans in the works but one did never know with the Sylphys. Standing up, a Sylphy, the one that had managed to almost burn dinner, grabbed the Cat Eared American Enclave Scout of America's plate before scurrying off to the kitchen with it.
"Well I guess since we're talking about it, we should investigate the possibilities of something weird going on," Constance Sorrowfeld stated in a manner that said a blind girl with Cat Ears, a woman who wore a face mask that she could eat through and an army of self replicating clones was normal. Making sure she had her shotgun with her and that it was loaded.
"By the way... what are the chances that some sort of talking Deathclaw would exist?" Constance asked nonchalantly.
Jenna paused for a moment at the young girl's question, and reached up to rub her chin. Or at least, where her chin would have been.
"I'm not sure. And no one can really say one way or another when radiation-induced mutations are involved. It's possible, I suppose." she conceded, "Especially since a few of the trade caravans have told stories about intelligent, talking Deathclaws on the East Coast, but I have no idea if those have any real basis in fact."
She shrugged, and walked over to her AER9.6. With it in hand, she motioned for Constance to go ahead and sit back down.
"Still, I'll check it out with the outside guards. You probably have more important things to do, what with your army of Sylphy's." she told her, the holographic emitter projecting a cartoonish smile over her helmet.
With a friendly wave, she hefted her rifle and started to make her way outside without too much worry. After all, what were the chances of an intelligent, talking Deathclaw actually being real? Well, it was dark out there, even with the patrolling Sylphys around, but after a bit of wandering out there, she would happen to come across something moving in the dark, something with a bit of brush as its concealment. Didn't sound like the usual patrols, but...if it
were a Deathclaw, it would be charging right now...right? Right?
The Followers Doctor hesitated for a moment when she noticed the sounds of something moving. She couldn't really tell what it was. She couldn't even tell how large it was, whatever it was. But given the area, something like a mole rat or a giant ant wouldn't have been unusual. Or a raider, for that matter. But, she thought as she leveled her AER9.6 in the direction of the noise, it was always better to be cautious.
"Hello? Is there someone there?" she called out.
There was a pause, and then she heard...
"Sylphy."
Wow, that one must've been REALLY butch, 'cause it sounded incredibly deep-voiced out there in the darkness! The end of her Laser Rifle lowered only slightly, and she tilted her head a little in confusion. That was, without a doubt, a horrible impression of one of the Sylphy's. After all, one of the small benefits of each one being a clone, identical to one another in every physical way, meant that it was hard to impersonate successfully. Especially if the impersonator sounded distinctively male.
"Care to run that by me again? It's pretty obvious you aren't one of the girls." she told the dark.
"Sylphy! Sylphy! Sylphy! Sylphy!"
The irony here was that while this was indeed not a Sylphy, but a gray-hide Deathclaw, he was correctly
speaking Sylphese and - in fact - had gotten by several curious patrols using both this and a blue-haired wig. The
problem lay in the fact that he was not addressing another of the Sylphys, who were - Let's face it. - not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
"Uh... I don't understand." Jenna said with an uncertain waver in her voice, "I'm sorry?"
"Syl-phy..."
This translated to "Good grief..." and Jenna could
hear the facepalm from there. At that point, Jenna simply lowered her Laser Rifle and shook her head with an audible sigh. She still wasn't sure who she was talking to, but it was clear by now they were trying to communicate. Unfortunately...
"Look, if you would speak English, then I could understand you. I don't understand the Sylphys, especially since I only managed to arrive here today." she explained to the source of the voice.
"That is unfortunate."
NYAH! Okay, hello scary voice! Now that it stopped saying that silly word, proper english conversation was just
a leetle bit intimidating, coming from whoever that was.
"Oh, good! You do speak English." she said with a soft, nervous giggle as she took a slow backward step, "Who are you, and what brings you here?"
The figure did not move from cover...yet.
"I am Malkos, and I am here to change the menu."
Oh shit. He could only mean one thing... Jenna froze. Change the menu? Since the menu for Constance and the Sylphy's happened to have been Deathclaw recently, that had to mean...
"Oh m-my." she breathed, not moving a single muscle.
This had to be an intelligent, talking Deathclaw, and chances were, she was dead where she stood. Unless she did something, she reminded herself as her mind raced to think of some kind of solution. Terror made thinking awfully hard, since any thought she had was interspersed with images of her suit being torn open, along with her person, by massive hardened claws.
Come on, Jenna, think! she urged herself.
What do you know about Deathclaws? Deathclaw Eggs are the main ingredient of a hangover remedy called a Wasteland Oyster, along with gunpowder, pepper, and generic hot sauce--No, that doesn't help! What else? Deathclaws are known to be among the hardiest as well as one of the most dangerous wasteland creatures around, known for being extremely territorial and--That doesn't help right now either! What can kill a Deathclaw? A Gauss or Anti-Materiel Rifle at long range, multiple Miniguns, Gatling Lasers, or Plasma Casters, Missile Launchers or Grenade Machine Guns, or a Tesla Cannon.
None of which she had. What she
did have, however, was a modified Laser Rifle, and her fists. She didn't even have the benefit of her Ripper, which was still with her doctors bag in the school. So, since fighting was sure to be fatal, that left the shaky possibility of diplomacy.
"I don't suppose we could talk this over, could we?" she asked when she finally trusted her voice to speak again.
There was a sudden
swoosh of movement as a hulking sort of figure leapt up and landed heavily before her, all happening
very quickly and allowing her to see the full extent of how BAD this might get. Judging by the development of the horns and the increased size, this was an
Alpha Deathclaw... His pale glowing eyes were now but
inches from her helmet, glaring at her.
"I understand Mole-Rat to be plentiful in this region."
She hadn't been expecting Malkos the Deathclaw to reveal himself so suddenly, or so closely, at that. The moment he thudded to the ground in front of her, she dropped her rifle and stumbled backwards with what was clearly
meant to be a scream. What ended up coming out was a quiet squeak. At that point, she wasn't thinking so much as she was reacting with irrational terror. She scrabbled backwards on all fours with surprising speed with a whimper before crashing into the wall of the school.
"Gaaaah..." she grunted softly before passing out limply.
Malkos poked the suited one a couple times, then huffed in irritation. Great Grandpa Goris never had a day like this...that he mentioned. Well, nothing more he could do with
this one, so inside he went and soon...Constance would find a Deathclaw going
"Sylphy Sylphy!" at her, explaining in a Lassie-like manner that either timmy had fallen down the well or that the doc in the weird suit had passed out.
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Meanwhile, at the place of all falling escape pods, the Smith Casey's Garage, we have the highly-rhythmic and ghoulish Eddie The Dead, the almost similarly-named Enclave naked-man ED-209, the falls-from-the-heavens-wearing-women's-clothing Charlie Cannon, an unconscious girl, and...an Eyebot. Well,
Number 6 had seen enough. The dark-haired man in the helmetless Enclave powersuit approached, plasma rifle on his back, and addressed the group.
Number 6: I know the naked man. He's a loose cannon from the Enclave. The Eyebot
should be safe enough, since it's not Rover. The others...I do not know, but I will in a moment. Now then...
The ex-Enclave man fixed Eddie with a decided glare.
Number 6: Whose side are you on?
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The sniper master of the Fallout Sector settled into his new custom Enclave powersuit with the dark-blue glowing tracelines as he received two calls, both of them at once. The first one was that Metal Gear Box should be prepared to mobilize, Number One's orders. The second one was from the Brotherhood of Steel, Sara Lyons on the horn about FalloutScott, at last.
FalloutDavid: This is the Empire of Dave speaking.
Sara: We have your engineer. He's been more than a little problematic, but we finally caught him again. And his suit. Who knew that it could move on its own?
FalloutDavid: We did. Sooo...you come in at a good time. I have this cyborg that literally walked with me right up north to my base and got captured as a result. I have him pinned down with the BOX, but central says the MGB has a mission soon. So, we're proposing a trade-
Sara: Actually, I was thinking of using Scotty-boy here as leverage against
you. You see, we heard about him killing Frank Rose. His family in the Outcasts aren't happy about that. He'll make a nice peace offering.
FalloutDavid: You're really getting the band back together? Excellent.
Sara: Wait, you
want us to unite? What's your game?
FalloutDavid: Keep the wastes nice and organized to kill the China ghouls, of course. Haven't you heard? There's still a war on. I believe they know over in the West Coast. Sadly, most of the Brotherhood of Steel
there was wiped out like we were. Well, I suppose NCR can keep them occupied.
Sara: So, you'd actually sacrifice your engineer, then?
FalloutDavid: War is hell, Miss Lyons. We'll be shipping Talion back to base, then.
Change happened. While Talion was fussing with his equipment, a squad of Enclave soldiers came over with five explosive collars in hand. Looks like they wanted to hook them onto all four of Talion's limbs AND around his neck. One of the soldiers spoke up to clear away any confusion.
#73: There's been a change of plans. We need to mobilize the BOX, so we're putting these collars on you to take you back to homebase. The vertibird's waiting, so put that stuff a way and get these on.
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Sara glared at the mic as David signed off, then turned away in frustration. What the hell was this? The Enclave wasn't trying to tear them apart to conquer the wastes, but keep them whole to fight a new enemy? Did they really think their position so strong? Well, they had that robot of theirs, but that couldn't be it. They actually just sacrificed FalloutScott, one of their best, for this. Why? No, nevermind. The Enclave has ALWAYS been inhuman... Sara Lyons set out orders to put Scott in a packing crate while they analyze his suit. Some answer may lie in there now.
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Three Dog: Hello, children, and welcome to Three Dog's exclusive interview with the man from space! What'll we call you, space man? Space Ranger?
Absolute Zero: Agent Zero will do. I'm an experimental Cryo Soldier. They froze me and delivered me into space, to land on the moon and sleep within a specially-prepared base until post-war time when I was needed.
Three Dog: Any way you can verify this for our viewers?
Absolute Zero: It's funny you ask that, but I'm in possession of a large space laser which a rogue operation had been threatening your New California Republic with not too long ago. The robots running it are...on ice.