The REALLY Wild Wasteland. (The Fallout RP!)

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Megaton | Megatonian Gates
I Left My Heart in Megaton
Thomas "Shifty" McGee and Sylphee​

[hr]

Loyalty, Love, Loss. These seemed to be the major themes that revolved around Thomas "Shifty" McGee's life. Loyalty sacrifices love and begets loss. There was never a simpler recipe for tragedy. To be separated from the one you love once involved pain beyond measure. To be separated from the one you love twice, the star crossed lovers had it easy but Romeo and Juliet had also never been so blessed as Thomas and Lucy. To have been reunited after all that had happened, there was no other word for it. Walt willing, they would be reunited again. For now, this was goodbye, Lucy Black.

"For now. This time it will only be temporary! You hear me? No dying this time, fake or otherwise, I forbid you.", The Once Mousy Haired and Bookish girl attempted to mockingly deride him in spite of her growing reluctance to leave him, "You do your thing. I have to go mend a few fences at the Brotherhood, find out why they kept my dad from me, or burn the place to the ground -- depending on my mood."

He did not envy those in the Brotherhood of Steel. He'd seen the ferocity of his One-Eyed Gauss Girl. Thomas "Shifty" McGee would have many a grave to dig if they did not cooperate. After all, Lucy was the true beast when it came to the Gauss Rifle Plus' "Beast Mode." Without her, the weapon was merely a shiny ornament left gathering dust on an Enclave shelf.

"Rivet City, Megaton, Springvale and the Citadel. Places where I'd most likely be.", one hand fell to her side, "Take care of my Sylphy. And look out for Arizona while I'm gone."

If the heroic thing to do was to stoically bear the sensation of ones heart being ripped from one's chest, our beloved Former Undertaker was acting decidedly non-heroic. The tears that fell from his face were swallowed by the thirsty D.C. Wastes. Faced with the prospect of roaming the Wastelands once, he was glad to be reminded that he would be in the company of friends, even if one of them was a psychotic blue haired imp with a penchant for accidentally killing everyone around her.

"I love you, Thomas Shifty McGee.", Lucy said before hurriedly stepping forward to kiss him a second time. Breaking away for good the girl that had shared a bottle of vodka and a dance with him smiled and added, "In no uncertain terms."

"I love you too, Lucy Black. I will come back." He said with as much certainty that could be mustered under the circumstances. The Wastelands had a rather nasty habit of robbing the certainty out of any equation. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waste. Looking down, he was surprised to see Sylphee hugging him where Lucy had. Smiling, Thomas ushered Sylphee towards her Big Sissy Lucy Psycho Caboosy.

For now this was farewell, Lucy.

------------------------------Sylphee------------------------------​

The Red Menace was unsure of how to feel. On the one hand, Mommy Lucy Caboosy and Sylphee's newly discovered Gampa Imax were leaving. So she had to be mad at them for that. On the other hand, Mommy Lucy Caboosy and Sylphee's newly discovered Gampa Imax were leaving to find out stuff about Gampa Imax and Sylphee couldn't be mad at them for that. In the end, all the uncertainty melted away like so much Rad Scorpion Meat mixed with Cheesy BlamCo Stew when Mommy Lucy Caboosy folded the Crimson Menace into a warm and loving embrace.

Explanations were given, secrets were divulged and bestest yet, gifts were gifted upon the luckiest blue haired girl standing in front of the Megaton Gates. As much as Sylphee loved gifts, the fact that Mommy Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy had given her so many gifts and Sylphee had not a one to give her back left a feeling of uneasiness deep within the chest of the usually happy go lucky little girl. An idea popped into Sylphee mind as Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy turned away to talk to Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun.

Grabbing Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy by the hand, Sylphee started to speak.

"Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy I want you to have -" Click

Sylphee never got a chance to finish her sentence as she gripped the choker around neck and gave it a tug. Where Sylphee once stood gripping the hand of her Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy, Sylph now stood holding the hand of Lucy. If Lucy had any compunction about distancing herself from the bloodthirstier of the Sylphee/Sylph duo, it was quickly squashed by the look on Sylph's face. Somewhere between thoughtful and sad, Sylph's eyes were fixed on the ground. She stayed like that for a moment before she pounced on her sister, her arms wrapping themselves around Lucy's waist. A hug. A genuine hug form the Blue Haired Psychopath.

"I... I remember you." Sylph said quietly, her face buried in Lucy's chest, "Thank you... for being my sister."

A heartbeat later, the moment was gone as Sylph released Lucy from the hug. Nodding at her older sister, Sylph walked back towards her Father before putting her choker back on, wiping away the traces of sadness from her face.

------------------------------Thomas------------------------------​

"You know... It's not like we've left Megaton yet," she started, "I'm sure I can find someone in this shithole that knows the way to Dunwich. If you want to go with her, now will probably be your last chance before I finish this job."

Arizona should have known better than to make that offer to the Former Undertaker. This wasn't about getting paid, or personal pride or a sense of honor, Natsuki Manriki had told the group what was happening around Dunwich. This was about ensuring the safety of the D.C. Wastes and its inhabitants.

"I'm sorry, Arizona. I can't let you do this without me. I owe you a debt that I intend to pay. You remember what Miss Manriki told us about the Ancient Ones around Dunwich. You'll need all the help you can get if you're to be successful. Besides, what's a little time away from Lucy to ensure that we have the rest of our lives to be happy?"

Picking up his pack, Thomas shouldered it as well as the assault rifle before gesturing for Sylphee to do the same. They were ready to go whenever everyone else was.

 

[Neuromancer]

Megaton Gates
Dark thoughts and silver linings​

A single glimpse was enough to take what frickle optimism he was feeling from his talk with Lucy and drown it in a sea of hopelessness.

What goes up inevitably crashes down. He was growing used to the hallucinations. But that didn't stop them from being unnerving. He wasn't sure if that was because of the hallucinations themselves or the fact that he was getting used to them not sitting right in his head, but the result was the same, anyway. It was happening again. How many times today? It was happening again. But this was different.

This time it was him.

It was happening again. Why him? Why now? It was happening again. Why did they not cease? It happened again. Why wouldn't they stop?

"It...it IS you, isn't it?"

At least it was in his voice, not hers. At least for once it wasn't lampooning him. At least he was being left alone.
He'd never escape them, would he? They'd never leave him alone. Sometime along the way something in his head broke and this was the result. A frickle old man, slowly losing it more and more, unable to differenciate reality from fantasy.

"I can see him now."

She could see him too? The poor girl. That made him feel even more miserable. Lucy didn't deserve something like this. She was too young... but then again, after everything she'd been through thanks to him, he shouldn't be surprised.

But... if she could see him...

He was real.

Jonathan watched as father and daughter reunited, a prospect that until a few minutes ago seemed impossible. Isaac Black, his benefactor who was regarded as deader than dead, had suddenly appeared before them, alive and well.

Then why didn't he feel happy?

Or for that matter, why didn't he feel anything? There was no excitement, no relief. A hollowness speard throughout his chest as he watched the Black family reunion. He almost wanted to take some steps back and disappear. Almost. He was sapped of energy for that too.

And then, Isaac turned to him.

Isaac: Jon? I'm sorry for being dead. I didn't plan it that way, but I'm here now. What I can do for you?

He couldn't help but feel dumbfounded.

"Do... for me?"

Words, words. Such devilish things. They elude you when you need them, and escape you when you don't. How could he describe the precariousness of his situation? What words would be adequate to describe the utter helpnessness that he felt, the self-loathing further fanned by the phantoms that plague him, his apparent disability at distinguishing reality to the twisted hallucinations of his mind? And what could a man, even if that man is Isaac Black, do?

"I don't know..." he hung his head, "What... what the hell am I even going to do, Isaac? I escaped the Enclave, stumbled my way in this hell of a wasteland for ten years... And for what? To return to their yoke again. History repeats itself. My lone hope hangs on a thread."

He raised his head to face him, and rubbed his forehead, "I don't know anymore. I'm too spent to not feel hopeless, but even so I have too little going for me."

[hr]

Enclave Vault
Cinders of the past, firestarters of the present​

Medical Officer #46 sit next to Intelligence Officer #411, hunching forward on the desk, clasping her hands in front of her mouth, the light of the monitor contrasting on her glasses, giving them an ominous glow.

Jonathan Aristotle McKenna. The man that almost ruined her life, the man that almost doomed her daughter, in the flesh. What a sorry state he was in; had she not been informed that this was him, she would have difficulty believing this broken shell of a man was him. On top of being covered in blood, he looked malnourished, unnaturally aged, his stature and gaze that of a man whose psyche is so fractured it's beyond repair, only breaking more and more. He deserved all that and more, for what he did to her. For what he almost did to Amarantha.

"What do you make of this? How does someone resurrect a traitor that was confirmed as bring killed years ago?"

#46 didn't even turn to acknowledge the question. In her chest reverbated a sensation she hadn't experienced in a long time, not since the breakup. Jonathan Aristotle McKenna, the man that she hoped died in the destruction of Raven Rock, still wasted oxygen. It almost felt like a cruel joke; so many good, capable people, people that could have made a real difference in saving the wasteland had died on that day, yet he, a despicable, manipulative man without morals or a shred of decency had survived. Had he wrapped this group of people under his finger yet? She couldn't tell. But she knew he was dangerous, and he would get more still, the more he spread his influence. She was almost tempted to call in all the favours she had, to make sure that he wouldn't survive the week.

But only almost. She was, above all, a professional, and would not let emotions rule over her. She was certain there was a reason he hadn't been killed yet, and though she was being kept out of the loop, she had faith in the Enclave and what it fought for.

Back to business. The apparent resurrection of Isaac Black was indeed quite puzzling, though her of all people knew there were many ways to cheat death out there, one less obvious than the next.

"It is certainly possible," she finally stated in a dry, matter-of-fact way, "But I have too little information to come to a satisfying conclusion. As such, I request that I am given access to Isaac Black's file, as well as the full report of his death."

She pulled back on her seat, almost slouching. Almost. A professional cannot afford to grow lax. She eyed the report that #411 put down, the one about another of her ex-husband's victims.

"I see that my recommendation that he be given two weeks time to fully recuperate have been ignored" she stated in the same tone, taking the report and reading it carefully, "Pretty impressive, considering he very recently woke up from a coma with a laser shot in the chest, a punctured lung and missing a hand. Plenty of potential, this one. At the rate he's going, he'll be qualified for assignment in six months." she put the report back on the desk, "Quicker than you, unless I am mistaken." She placed her arms on the chair's armrests, clasping her hands in front of her chest, "Hatred is one hell of a motivator." She knew, she finally realised what the sensation she was feeling were.

For the first time in 10 years, Chief Medical Officer #46 felt motivated.

 

[The Harkinator]

The Three Musketeers: A Parting Gift Or Two

Despite just encouraging Evan and Dudley to make new friends with their soon to be travelling companions, William had one last thing to do. Isaac and Lucy were preparing to leave, and a few were saying their goodbyes.

"You two, keys please. The Blacks could make better use of your motorcycles." Said William, gesturing with both of his hands.

"How do you figure that one?" Said Evan. It was a big ask, motorcycles were hard enough to come by or even get working. Asking Evan and Dudley to hand over theirs for an indefinite period of time sounded like a mad decision.

"Because we're going with that lot to Dunwich right? They don't have any vehicle so they'll have to go on foot, if we're travelling with them the most you can do on them is trundle along at three miles an hour and fight to keep them upright. They'll be more of a hindrance than help this time."

Evan raised his hand to make a point, lowered it slowly and almost formed a few words with his mouth. Instead he handed over his keys, Dudley followed Evan's lead and handed over his keys too.

"Thanks, at least you're more likely to get them back than I am mine. Still sitting right outside the Enclave base and everything..."

===========

William - You need these keys, your father, and two motorcycles.

Catching up the the imminently departing Black family, William handed the keys to Dudley's bike to Isaac and Evan's keys to Lucy.
"You could do with faster transportation. Just be careful with the suspension, we've been overloading them for some time." William turned to go before adding, "Just be careful in general really. You two just found each other, it's important not to abandon something like that." He said before actually leaving, not sure whether the advice about abandoning important people was more for Lucy or himself.

==========

Evan - How to win friends and influence people.

After seeing Dudley get a frosty reception from Arizona, Evan decided to try and smooth things over with their new travelling companions. Two of them were talking together, the ghoulette and Lucy's boyfriend. After deciding that would be a good name for a band or bandit duo Evan went for his opening line.

"Sorry about my friend, I'm looking forward to travelling with the pair of you.

Let's see THIS go wrong!

==========

Dudley - Where cheesy puns go to die.

For reasons we will probably never know, Dudley decided the first person he'd talk to was Kristin Blamco. After such a harsh rejection from Arizona he wasn't looking for luurrve in all the wrong places, she just seemed like a nice person that wouldn't yell at him.

"Hey missy, if it aint too personal a question so soon, why do ya smell like mac and cheese?"

A bit tactless, but have fun with that one Duds. You'll be waking up two weeks later praising Blamco with only half an idea what your name is.

==========

William again - It's dangerous to go alone, take this!

Alright, not really alone at all when you think about it, but William had returned to the rest of the group and handed Lucy's plasma pistol to Thomas "Shifty" McGee, the one she had given to him when they last parted company. It had been done with the intention of keeping him safe, but he'd hardly used it at all and Shifty seemed like a more appropriate person to have it.

"...I've hardly used it at all and you seem like a more appropriate person to have it." Finished William, handing over what little ammo he had for the plasma pistol. After that he turned to look west and spoke to nobody in particular.
"I'm actually quite excited to be back on foot again."

Adventure beckoned.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Road To Dunwich | Outside Megaton Gates
"Once you take in one stray, you end up taking in the rest."​

When Arizona looked at Thomas, she could tell by the expression on his face that the offer, even if tempting, wasn't enough to change his mind. She had two thoughts after realizing that: First was that he was a damned stubborn fool. Second was that she couldn't help but like that about the tall, gangling young man.

"I'm sorry, Arizona. I can't let you do this without me. I owe you a debt that I intend to pay. You remember what Miss Manriki told us about the Ancient Ones around Dunwich. You'll need all the help you can get if you're to be successful. Besides, what's a little time away from Lucy to ensure that we have the rest of our lives to be happy?"

She snorted softly and shook her head. Then she turned to face him, hands on her hips and her single eye glinting with a hint of amusement as she looked up at him.

"You know that you don't owe me a thing, Thomas, but I suppose I can't argue. It'll be nice to have you along." she said.

But when she glanced over at the kid, Sylph, she couldn't help but wonder about whether or not it was alright to take her along too. She was no doubt good in a fight, but even Sylph could get overrun by Ferals. The very idea threatened to send uneasy shivers up her spine.

She never particularly liked Ferals. Even though most were peaceful around other Ghouls, the fact that they used to be normal people unnerved her some. Radiation, time... Simple lack of will. Whatever the reason, they lost their minds and were reduced to nothing more than beasts. The idea freaked her out at odd moments, especially since it was a reminder that maybe, just maybe, that would end up being her one day.

"Sorry about my friend, I'm looking forward to travelling with the pair of you."

She hadn't even noticed that one of the trio that escorted Isaac Black had approached them, and as she looked him over it was clear that it wasn't the same one that had tried to hit her up. And he was lucky that he wasn't the same man, because otherwise she would've laughed in his face. Instead, she merely quirked up a brow and narrowed her eye.

"And why is that? I don't remember inviting you to join us to Dunwich." she drawled.

In truth, she knew that she couldn't really turn away help for this job. A small, greedy part of her wanted to, though. After all, ten thousand caps could only split so many ways until she barely had enough caps at the end of it to cover travel and ammunition expenses. Not only that, but she had a sneaking suspicion that The Three Stooges that showed up not long ago came as a set.

A suspicion that was confirmed not long after she thought it.

"I'm actually quite excited to be back on foot again."

The other member of the trio that wasn't a Casanova Wannabe had come up, and after handing a Plasma Pistol to Shifty, seemed to pose even as he looked off towards the inevitable sunset. Her withered face promptly twisted into an expression of annoyance.

"Oh, goody. Oh happy day! Lemme guess, Romeo over there is tagging along too, isn't he?" she asked with increasingly ill-temper as she jabbed a thumb in the direction of the man in question.

 

[TheDoctor455]

Outside the Abandoned Garage Outside Vault 112, which does not legally exist according to the town council of REDACTED, but is often used to torture re-educate those who vote incorrectly in meaningless municipal elections

Imagine a ball.

Not bad, not bad at all. Except for one detail you forgot: it is a metal ball you should be imagining right now. Don't worry, its clear that you're a little new or rusty at this... or possibly both at the same time. That is also quite possible. Time doesn't always work in one isolated town that this particular metal ball has flown through.

Incidentally, you should also be imagining that the ball can fly, and indeed is currently attempting to activate its hover engines at this very moment because it is not really a simple metal ball, but a vaguely ball-shaped robot with antennae. Maybe you're really not that good at this "imagining things"... thing.

Let's try again.

Imagine a beach ball sized robot vaguely shaped like a ball with grills where its "face" would be, a name spray-painted onto it that reads "VERA 2.0", the color of the paint is constantly shifting color so there may be irregular updates on what color it is if that proves to be important for any reason. Then again, nothing is really all that important if you think about it as you stare at the partially starry expanse at night, and start to worry about what would happen to the light pollution keeping you safe from the tyrannical stars if the radiation poisoning kills it off...

Anyway. Are you imagining a ball-shapped flying robot that has just now managed to get off the ground? Good. That's... actually really good. Are you in my head now? Well, pull up an armchair and those sexy bunny slippers you think no one knows about, you're going to be here for a while. So... the robot. Yes. She. And yes, most robots do not have a gender, but this one does. I mean... with a name like "Vera" (which may or may not be an abbreviation for something like her previous names "ED-E" and "EDNA" were), and adorable ribbons in her antennae... well, what else can you think of such a robot except as a "she?"

I dunno. How about by her name? Didya ever think about that?

Vera waved her antennae around a bit, sending a kind of hollow vibrating sound throughout the mostly empty tract of wasteland around her. This is how she says hello.

She was never entirely sure if that got across, so she also searched her data-banks for an appropriate series of voice files and cobbled together a somewhat hap-hazard greeting.

The following is a transcript of the voices that came out of the little flying robot in quick succession to form this greeting:

"Hello!" said a bright and chipper robotic voice which had that tinny, infuriatingly cheerful quality that instantly made you want to throttle the voice's original owner so that you no longer had to listen to their stupid, stupid voice.

"I'm..." said an old man's voice which sounded as though it were struggling for breath... as if someone were currently throttling its original owner.

"THREE DOG! BOW-WOW!" said an all-too familiar voice for the residents of the Capitol Wasteland.

"JK," said a much younger voice, one that sounded happy and mischievous... and like it knew its way around machines, though it is not clear how that came across in just the voice.

"I'm..." came the old man's death rattle again.

"lVERA!" said a sultry voice that sounded far too crisp and clear... and impossibly tantalizing to be anything but a Pre-War recording. Probably a late night talk show host or something along those lines... though the robot had clearly edited that file a little to emphasize the last part of the name, leaving the preceding "El" all but inaudible to anyone without superhuman hearing.

Is there anyone like that around? Its so hard to keep track sometimes with your brain-washed sleeper agents, and grunting cyber-ninjas, and clones of blue-haired people... and lots of just barely censor-approved sex hanging around at the edges...

Anyway. Meet Vera. Nicely done.

You've Met The Vera.

Cue music!

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Megaton | Outside the Gates
Departures... and Arrivals.
Thomas "Shifty" McGee and Sylphee​

[hr]

Thomas nodded in thanks to William Knight for his gifted Plasma Pistol. While he wasn't exactly a energy weapons nut as much as Lucy Black was, he simply needed to inspect the weapon to get the gist of the design. Point the business end at the bad guys and pull the trigger. Everything, like muzzle velocities and how leading would be picked up somewhere down the line when it was more appropriate to fire the weapon. Given that they were in front of the Megaton Gates under the watch of the guards after barely having escaped not just a riot but an attempt by Colin Moriarty on Jonathan McKenna's life. Now was not the time to stop and experiment with weapons.

Eyeing the man who'd gifted him with the handheld Plasma weapon, Shifty couldn't help but think that the name William Knight sounded familiar. Was it a name that was mentioned in the Enclave Vault? No, he remembered a place where the name was mentioned further back in the past. Perhaps the Citadel? If that was the case maybe they could use the trio's assistance in the matter that lay before them.

Thomas shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to focus more on the task at hand, which was get out of the area before more of Moriarty's goons showed up to finish the job that Moriarty himself couldn't complete... at least he tried to until Arizona's gruff voice pierced through his thought process.

"Oh, goody. Oh happy day! Lemme guess, Romeo over there is tagging along too, isn't he?" she asked with increasingly ill-temper as she jabbed a thumb in the direction of the man in question.

"I think he is, Arizona. at least that's the impression that I get from the trio." Thomas said neutrally. He enjoyed the Ancient one's company and while Thomas had seen kindness in her actions, she could hardly be called a saint and there were times where where she was as far from a saint as one could get.

Taking her to the side, Shifty addressed her gently and respectfully as was due to her status as a revered Ancient one.

"Maybe we should be nicer to them. I know that you might not like the one you call Romeo but you heard Natsuki. It's a guaranteed suicide mission. Maybe with more people, it wouldn't be." Thomas said slowly, thinking aloud before appealing to her more mercenary side, "Besides, if we have to run, at least the Sick Ones will have the three of them to rip up before getting to us."

Turning to William, he waved as introduced himself.

"I'm Thomas McGee by the way. This is Arizona and the one in the crimson is Sylphee. I would keep away from her if I were you." The Former Undertaker of the East nodded towards Sylphee who was looking intently at the Laser Pistol that Lucy had given to her... down the barrel.

"SYLPHEE! NO!" The Former Undertaker turned Father exclaimed as he rushed over to where Sylphee was standing and grabbed the laser, moving it just enough for the bright crimson beam to miss her head by inches, searing a hole in the Megatonian Gates They needed to go, post haste. The sooner they started moving, the sooner they would be able to keep Sylphee distracted. If it wasn't Sylphee, it was the other woman. No sooner than he had finished keeping Sylphee from scorching her face off, he stopped speaking in time to hear Jonathan McKenna's companion speak.

"May the Dairy Moonlight guide your path, let your erect nipples point you towards success and fight with relentless passion."

With the amount of craziness that was contained in this group, they were likely to draw attention sooner rather than later. With any hope, the group would be leaving before anything showed up.

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | The Enclave Vault | #411's Office
Patience...
Enclave Intelligence Officer #411​

[hr]

"Pretty impressive, considering he very recently woke up from a coma with a laser shot in the chest, a punctured lung and missing a hand. Plenty of potential, this one. At the rate he's going, he'll be qualified for assignment in six months." Enclave Medical Specialist #46 stated as she put the report back on the desk, "Quicker than you, unless I am mistaken... Hatred is one hell of a motivator."

The Enclave Intelligence Officer ignored the Medical Officer's jab in regards to Recruit #411B's shattering of a number of training records, a few of them held by #411 herself. It was to be expected that someone would some day break her records. It was rather impressive the progress that he'd been making. Pulling up an order form, Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 sent a request to the Training Arm of the Enclave to push up the time table for the trainee.

"Enclave Medical Officer #46. What's you assessment on pushing up the time table for the completion of your patient's training?" The Intelligence Officer asked rhetorically. The order to speed up the training process had already been sent. The wanted to get more of a gauge on her "partner's" resolve to see this through, regardless of the cost of life and regardless of whatever silly oath the Doctor had taken to preserve the life of her patients.

Of course, this also cut short the amount of time that the Sylphee Army would have to train and to get outfitted with new weapons. This was calculated however. The decision to use the Clone army to combat whatever aggression Ghoul China sent into the DC Wastes had already been made. She simply needed to reveal their existence to FalloutJack. After that, it was a matter of getting them trained en masse.

"It must be tempting." The Officer said out of the blue, her finger hovering over a button set next to the screen displaying the scene in front of Megaton "With just the push of a button, we could crash the aerial drone into his position and remove your ex-husband from the board as well as FalloutIsaac, once again."

It was indeed tempting even from Enclave Intelligence Officer #411's position. To have the ability to wipe out this group of threats to the Enclave and not use it took a high measure of discipline. There would likely never be another opportunity to kill so many of the Enclave's more dangerous enemies at one time. With one push of a button she could have wiped out Lucy Black, Isaac Black, Thomas McGee, Kristin Blamco and Jonathan McKenna.

Withdrawing her finger from the button, Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 continued waiting for the group to move out. On another screen, one that was set up to monitor activity around Springvale Elementary School, the remote controlled aerial drone picked up the movements of a Deathclaw, one that appeared to bypass the Sylphy guards with ease. Strangely enough, it appeared that the Deathclaw spoke a few words to them before they allowed him to pass.

 

[Anti-American Eagle]

Talion - The Republic of Dave

High exterior contamination, surrounded by hostile forces, mechanized weapons platform trained on self, disadvantageous position. Change of conditions required. Distract hostile forces, locate suitable cover from hostile forces, acquire suitable firepower, resolve situation, locate decontamination agents.

Talion snapped into focus as his pipboy shunted generated objectives into his mind. It had been awhile since it had done that, thought the situation seemed appropriate for that feature to come back online. He shook his head slightly as he tried to pull together a plan. More time was needed to think of a distraction that wouldn't kill him in the process. The buildings nearby would work for cover if he could make the run to them. Firepower would take time if he couldn't find an armoury on-site. Decontamination agents shouldn't even be considered at this point.

Talion crouched down as he could and began pulling supplies from his pack. The first thing on his mind at this point with little in the way of mobility was dealing with the Metal Gear Box, as he had learned it was called. Blueprints for the thing were an impossibility so it's capabilities were unknown and so falling back to training from the old days was the only choice. Design appeared to be post war but clearly built on pre-war methodology. AI would rely on IFFs and motion rather than actual intelligence. Operator possible considering he was still alive. Mechanisms would be hardened against pulses unless the designers didn't expect high burst electromagnetism in post-war conditions. Armour would be bulletproofed and hardened against explosives. Treating it like a hardened bunker would be a better choice than thinking of it as a machine, but ignoring the mechanical components would be idiotic.

He began disassembling a mini nuke, a pulse grenade, and a few other things he had brought with him as he began constructing a better charge for the job.

As he peeled away the casing of the nuke, something simple occurred to him, he switched through his radio channels and instructed her to return to the brotherhood citadel if he failed to communicate in an hour. He wasn't going to allow himself to be traded and it was entirely possible he could die in the escape attempt. The recognition tone came through to him and he continued his work, waiting for something to change around him or for enough to have been done to feel prepared.

 

[Neuromancer]

Alien Escape Pod
Rainy with a chance of Escape Pods​

"Hey, Astroboy. Heeeeey."

Eddie poked at the latest still unconcious victim of alien interspecies fetish porn, waiting for some sort of response. Alas, after around a minute that felt more like two and a half months, the young man remained unresponsive, and Eddie grew bored. Never a good thing, that, So, in his boredom, he decided to get creative.

At first, he'd poke along a steady rhythm, not really fast, just organised. Three pokes in quick succession, a small pause, rince and repeat. Then three became five, and the the pause smaller. Picking up the pace, he started alternating between the five-poke and the three-poke, as the rhythm grew quicker. The other hand joined in, poking at the other side, poking at a slower rhythm that matched the pauses of the original. He begun alternating the speed of the pokes between his two hands, and eventually created an entire different rhythm altogether. Then other fingers joined in, and, soon enough, the opening of Painkiller was being played on the poor intergalactic porn star's head. As Eddie was thinking on the lineup of the finger concert he was about to do (you gotta have songs that match, after all), aswell as debating whether he'd do an encore once finished, the sound of something large falling towards the ground whizzed in his ears, and soon enough the impact from the crash almost got him off balance. Turning around to see what it was now, Eddie couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation.

"I knew I should've bought an umbrella!"

As soon as he made his turn, a large, heavy, metallic object impacted on his head, knocking his hat off and causing him to humourously fall on the ground as it circled in the air, finally landing next to him. Rubbing the point of impact and letting out annoyed grunts, he raised his torso and grabbed the object. A familiar thing, a symbol of terror in East and West both, the Enclave Power Armour Helmet gleamed morbidly as light shone upon it from cracks in the damaged pod. Most people would've thrown it away; Enclave had caused a lot of suffering all around the coasts, and no one would be interested in wearing the helmet of the guys that killed their wife. Of course, Eddie being Eddie, he didn't have any problems with it, for he never had a wife; only one night stands and extremely short relationships. You can't keep a free spirit down, after all. Putting it on, he couldn't help but notice that he couldn't see shit, which was wierd as that could mean that all the Enclave soldiers that had tried to kill him in the past were firing blind, though that'd certainly explain their accuracy. Or it was simply broken. Luckily, Eddie was a trained mechanic, with knowledge on how to fix things pedestrian and imperial both. With his high amount of expertise, he tried the most universal and acclaimed method known to man: hitting the helmet until it worked. And work it did, after around five knocks. Stubborn thing.

[b][Spooky.][/b]

Putting his hat over the helmet, he turned once again to look at the cause of this ruckus. Another escape pod had landed, this one not of alien origin (Trust Eddie, he knows, he's a mechanic). From within spew forth two figures. One was a babe, a beautiful flower that rarely blossoms in the wasteland. Well, beautiful was subjective; any ghoul girl looks better than a feral ghoul girl, and since there are no fat ghoul girls. or worse, fat feral ghoul girls, it would thus be safe to say that the beauty standards when it comes to ghouls were pretty clear. Not that it mattered to Eddie, of course. A hole's a hole, after all. Speaking of, an exaggerated mass of muscled flesh, so exaggerated that that he looked like he ate Billy Herrington to gain his strength, lay on the ground. He looked like quite the speciment, a fine example of how brawn helped man survive through the stone age. Indeed, looking at his attempts to make a weapon made Eddie think of monkeys trying to make weapons out of branches. Of course, it was too early to tell if this furless gorilla would follow the monkeys to the next step; namely, reluctanctly giving up and throwing their poop at the audience. Right now, it more like seemed that he'd continue rubbing his head after a big metal ball landed on it.

[b][I must say, I am rather disappointed by the size of your gun.][/b]

Eddie said as he stared at the Aniki-wannabe from above, shotgun on hand,

[b][So, Biolante, what brings you to upon the presence of the Uberbilly and his two disciples? Art thou a pilgrim wishing for a blessing?][/b]

[hr]

Enclave Vault
Familiar Territory​

"Enclave Medical Officer #46. What's you assessment on pushing up the time table for the completion of your patient's training?"

#46 did not so turn to answer the question, instead continuing staring on the monitor. In her mind thoughts and emotions swirled violently, in contrast to her cold, emotionless exterior. Chief among them, a primal fear: That of the safety of her child. Jonathan Aristotle McKenna, that monster, once sought to deny their child its rightfully claimed chance at life, and if he were to learn...

No, it would not come to that. She wouldn't let it come to that. A parent must always put their child's life first.

"It must be tempting." #411 butted it, and this time #46 acknowledged the fledgling arriviste, raising an eyebrow, "With just the push of a button, we could crash the aerial drone into his position and remove your ex-husband from the board as well as FalloutIsaac, once again."

Needless to say, Enclave Chief Medical Officer was rather unimpressed by the Intelligence Officer's theatrics.

"Unless given the order, I would suggest you do not push that button," she said, as disconnected and emotionlessness as ever, "As for my assessment, it is that you should not waste my time with nugatory, inconsequencal questions. I have experience with immoral, deceptive parvenus, lest you forget." She gave the Agent an indifferent glare with half-closed eyes, before burying the lower half of her face in her clasped hands and turning back to the monitor, fully aware and unconcerned that she just compared #411 to her ex-husband.

"A talking deathclaw..." she paused, considering, seemingly unfettered by such a sight, "I thought them deemed a failed experiment and exterminated."

This already revelatory day was turning to be quite enlightening, indeed.

 

[Drummodino]

Alien Escape Pod​

Charlie Cannon wasn't quite sure where he was or how he'd got there, but wherever he was it was quite unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The first thing he noticed was he was completely surrounded by people, more than he thought he'd ever seen in his entire lifetime. They were all standing upright, jam-packed tightly together in a loud, sweaty mass of human flesh. The second thing was the music. It assaulted his eardrums in a murderous cacophony, but as he grew adjusted to the volume it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience. He even started moving along with the crowd to the beat, getting swept away in the atmosphere. The only thing that took away some of the enjoyment was someone behind him was using his head as a drum kit, tapping his head harder and harder as the music ramped up...

It was hot. And bright. Something sharp was digging into his back. Those were the sensations that greeted Charlie as he awoke with a groan, blinking and rubbing his grimy eyes against the blinding sun over the wasteland. His head pounded like someone had actually performed a drum solo on it rather than just a dream, and he was terribly thirsty. Just how long had he been lying there anyway? No wait a moment, where the hell were his clothes? He was almost completely naked, his modesty preserved by only a scant loincloth. There was also something tied around his head, however the string holding it in place refused to yield to his prying fingers.

It was at this moment Charlie realised he wasn't alone. He let out a strangled yelp at the sight of the huge, green ghoul with his back turned to him, its attention focused on something out of Charlie's view. He clapped a hand over his mouth, praying that the big creature hadn't heard him....

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Road To Dunwich | Outside Megaton Gates
"Three's a crowd, six is a raiding party."​

While Arizona was perfectly content to hold onto her bad attitude and glare at the new additions to their group, Thomas had other ideas as he leveled a patient gaze at her and took her off to one side.

"I think he is, Arizona. at least that's the impression that I get from the trio."

Her one-eyed glare flashed in his direction, but it was notably less-potent than when it was directed at William.

"Maybe we should be nicer to them. I know that you might not like the one you call Romeo but you heard Natsuki. It's a guaranteed suicide mission. Maybe with more people, it wouldn't be."

He raised perfectly reasonable, logical points. And while a small, petty part of her wanted to argue, she really couldn't, and she slowly deflated. When he mentioned that they could even be a distraction for the ferals, however, she had to suppress a shudder.

"Hopefully not. I'd only wish a horde of ferals on my worst enemy. But you're right." she said with a sigh, patting his shoulder, "We're not exactly in a position to turn away help."

But she looked back at the man that had tried to flirt with her before giving Thomas a sidelong glance.

"But I make no promises that I won't slug that guy if he tries another pickup line on me." she told him.

As Thomas introduced them all to the trio, or at least to the one that seemed like the "leader" of the trio she slipped her hands into the pockets of her fatigues and turned to Sylphee. When she did, her weathered face blanched and her eye widened as she watched the wacky, energetic, and ultimately clueless girl inspect her new Laser Pistol. Namely by pointing the business end at her own face.

"Kid, you don't--" Arizona started, holding out a hand to make her stop, only for Thomas to notice himself and be even quicker on the uptake.

"SYLPHEE! NO!"

He managed to wrest the Laser Pistol away just in time for the red beam to just miss Sylphee's face. Arizona froze at that, her face locked into a dull grimace. She had to take a moment to regain her composure, and by that point she strode over with a scowl and snatched the Laser Pistol away from them both.

"You never, ever, point a gun's dangerous end at your face, kid! I want you to remember that." she barked, before she shoved it into Sylphee's backpack.

Then she reached up and gave an ear-piercing whistle.

"Alright, everyone headed to Dunwich, we're getting this shit-show on the road!" she called.

Taking hold of Lester, she gave Thomas a backward glance. The look in her eye was plain: The sooner they got this job over with the better, because she was liking the idea of Dunwich less and less by the minute. It quickly passed, however, shifting to a mild glare at the members of their group that were lagging behind.

"...Come on, get the molasses out yer asses and let's go!" she added.

 

[The Harkinator]

The Three Musketeers - Walking still sucks.

"..Come on, get the molasses out yer asses and let's go!" Shouted the irascible ghoul to the lagging members of their group. This appeared to be aimed mostly at Evan and Dudley, who were still getting re-accustomed to travelling by putting one foot in front of the other rather than letting two wheels and an engine do all the work, and were therefore trailing badly behind everyone else. They'd be fine, it was a long walk to Dunwich.

This new crew seemed a decent bunch, if a bit stressed by life in the wasteland and the prospect of a journey to Dunwich. It was one of the few places in the Capital Wasteland William hadn't actually been to or made an attempt to get to. He'd heard the stories, and before now never had a job that led him there. Everything about the place just sounded wrong, and so many of the stories involved treasure hunters going missing after setting off for Dunwich. Things would be different this time, their team was experienced and fully aware of the dangers they were heading into.

"Doesn't mean we'll be fine." Thought William, "I bet dozens just like us thought they had enough about them to survive a dangerous trip like this. You don't stick your head in the Yao Guai's mouth because he's not hiding any sharp teeth."

William tried to force those thoughts from his mind. Their new team looked combat capable, if a little unpredictable. Having travelled with Sylph before, William knew just how dangerous she could be. Even if this was one of the Slyphee clones she was sure to have some combat ability. Arizona and Thomas looked like they could handle themselves in a fight, the ghoul particularly seemed a tough customer. As for Kristin Blamco, William had absolutely no idea what to make of her, but she too seemed to have a hyper-lethal setting.

"Any of you ever been to Dunwich? I'm sure we've all heard the rumours at this point, but does anyone know what it's actually like in there?" Enquired William to the group, hoping that somebody would know their way around once inside. Dudley and Evan remained silent, neither of them had ever been to Dunwich, though of course they'd heard the horror stories.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Megaton | Outside the Gates
Tales of the Travels of Sylphee...
Thomas "Shifty" McGee and Sylphee​

[hr]

The Wastelands that surrounded the former capital of the United States of America was a dangerous place with many ways to die. Deathclaws, Rad Scorpions, Mole Rats and Mirelurks were but a few examples of the horrible ways that many an unlucky traveler could hit 0 HP. Very few things, save for possibly a Super Mutant Deathclaw hybrid, could match the danger posed by a very bored Crimson Clad Catastrophe known simply by the name of Sylphee. The Phaser Pistol unleashed a crimson blast that had narrowly missed both Sylphee's and Daddy's face before blasting a hole in Megatoon's door.

Unknown to Daddy, Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy, Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun, Mister Willy Billy, Missy Krissy Boobs-A-Bunch, Mister Hollow Bongo Head or even Gampa IMAX, the door wasn't the terminal point of impact for the phaser blast. Having drilled a hole through Megatoon's gates, the phaser beam entered a window belonging to Mister Prone Wanderere, bouncing off the bathroom window and Mister Waddlesworth's body before exiting out into the town, toward the Bass Lantern, where a trio of recently converted BamCoists sat having lunch. It would have only been a minimally catastrophic day if Mister BamCoist #1 was the only one that had been affected by Sylphee's Phase Blast, unfortunately, something went bad... really bad. You see, the death of Mister BamCoist #1 triggered a DING DING! on Sylphee level meter and he suddenly exploded as he took a bite out of his Lizard on a Shtick, and Sylphee got the Meltdown perk, causing Mister BamCoist #2 and Mister BamCoist #3 to splode. True story. The Bass Lantern had problems getting customers after that day since people though that the Bass Lantern's Lizard on a Shticks caused spontaneous splosions.

Back to Sylphee and her adventures...

"Any of you ever been to [Sandwich]? I'm sure we've all heard the rumours at this point, but does anyone know what it's actually like in there?" Mister Willy Billy asked in hopes that someone would know their way around the Sandwich Building once they got there.

*PERK!*

"I've been to Sandwich, Mister Willy Billy!" The Blue Haired Air Head exclaimed cheerfully as she shouldered her Deathclaw Plushie pack.

"He said [Sandwich], Sylphee," Daddy said gently as he and Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun waited for Mister Hollow Bongo Head and Gampa IMAX to finish talking so that the ... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... seven of them could get going to the Sandwich Building.

"That's what I said, Daddy. Sandwich!" The Red Menace said in her typically perky tone, "Mister I-Eat-Small-Women-and-Children took me there once upon a time. It was so much fun! There were lots of leather faces that tried to jump out and scare us and grab us! We ran around the building with them chasing us! It was the bestest time ever! Mister I-Eat-Small-Dogs-and-Cats let me shoot a couple of them and run around in front of him so that I would get the most scares from the Sandwich Building!"

"So Hen... Mister I-Eat-Small-Dogs-and-Cats used you as bait for the Ghouls in the [Sandwich] Building?" Daddy asked, sounding more than a little concerned.

"No! He said that he wanted me to have a lot of fun and that he'd already been on that ride before!" Sylphee said with a smile as she remembered how much fun she had at the Sandwich Building.

Daddy turned to Mister Willy Billy and frowned slightly.

"I think we can take that as a no." Daddy said with a tone of resignation, "At least not in any manner that would help us navigate through that place. Besides, from what Natsuki told us, the place is filled with even more Old Ones than what Sylphee experienced in her... fun times in the [Sandwich] Building.

"You know, Mister I-Poop-On-You-Pillow wore a leather face mask when we were running around. He said that it was so that he could scare the leather faces... but... they didn't even try to scare him when we ran around."

"He ... what? Arizona... do you know what she's talking about? A mask that would keep the Mad Ancient Ones from attacking us? If such a thing existed, would it be possible for us to find some? The last thing I want for this expedition is for it to end tragically. You and I know that I've got plenty of reason for wanting to come back from this venture alive and in one piece." As Daddy said this, he looked over to where Big Sissy Lucy Caboosy stood next to Gampa IMAX, "I've got a promise to keep."

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Smith Casey's Garage
The Call of the Nudes...
Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209​

[hr]

The rather naked looking Enclave Dominator was unsure how to proceed from here. One one hand, there was a Ghoul holding a shotgun that looked like it had enough power to blow ED-209's oversized manhood into lesser sized but still oversized bits of manhood. On the other hand, the way things looked, any raider passing by might have thought that they'd just run into a strangest looking Furry Orgy this side of the Potomac River. I mean lets face it, they had Trixie, the token female of the group. Then they had the Ghoul that looked like he jumped into the rectal cavity of a Rock and Roll Brahmin. Then they had a guy who was dressed like he needed to be changed and breast fed every hour on the hour and finally they had a floating ball-bot that ... looked like a ball! If the Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist was into those sorts of parties, he'd probably have pitched a tent by now... though that would have required pants.

"[So, Biolante, what brings you to upon the presence of the Uberbilly and his two disciples? Art thou a pilgrim wishing for a blessing?]" The Ghoul said as he looked at the massivity that was ED-209's Man Missile. Whomever this Ghoul was, he talked funny, real funny. Was... he hitting on Enclave Dominator #209? Did he need to be shown who the boss of this... garage was?

Before the Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist had a chance to question the intentions of the Heavy Metal Ghoul, the Metal Ball that had landed on his head started talking... or rather... playing a random assortment of recorded voices to form an introduction for itself.

"I'm... lVERA" lVERA said through a not so complex arrangements of craftily edited soundbites.

And then there was the kid in the diapers... or loin cloth... or whatever it was that he was wearing. He was hiding in a corner away from the action. Apparently where ever he had come from, they hadn't treated him well. They'd probably kept him in a box of some sort until they needed to use him. The Enclave Dominator had that sort of feeling that this was the life the kid lead because he'd done that to a number of recruits that didn't have the cajones to make it through ED-209's Uber Training.

"I'm Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209..." Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 said feeling rather defeated by the fact that he was not only out gunned by the Rocking Ghoul but by the fact that the Floating Ball sounded kinda hot, "This is my... companion Trixie."

It should have been noted that Trixie had been silent for a time, probably mesmerized by the package that the ED was packing... and no ... ED does not stand for Erectile Dysfunction... if anything it would stand for Erectile Devastation... or something like that.

"She doesn't talk much out side of requesting girders and such..." Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist said, slightly aware that it could be taken the wrong way, "I think she's a construction worker."

So that was the introduction... now what was needed was clothing and perhaps a weapon and everything would be right as rain.

"So... who wants to help me get my armor? It's... kinda cold out here... you know what I'm saying?"

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona
The Wild Wastelands | The Road To Dunwich | Outside Megaton Gates
"--alias's include 'Butcher', 'Skinner', ' Missy Arizona Not Old One Not Leather Faced Lady Not Ghoul Whore With The Gun'..."​

As far as things went, the old Ghoul was looking forward to putting Megaton behind her. After all, with a combination of Sylph being on-par with a hyper-lethal Assaultron and the general mess that Tits McHugeKnockers' sad sack friend caused with Moriarty, she had a feeling that they weren't going to be welcome there again anytime soon.

Which really, was a shame.

Despite the fact that it undoubtedly still had a general prejudice against Ghouls such as herself, it was a secure enough settlement, and the nuke smack-dab in the middle of it all meant there was someplace with just enough radiation to relax in. It was also, presumably, disarmed. She also had the general rule that she hated to burn bridges unnecessarily when it came to wasteland settlements, even if they were shitholes. You never knew when you needed a safe, "civilized" place to hole up in, or needed a job, or even someplace to spend some caps and resupply.

Glancing backward at the growing group trailing behind her, she couldn't help but wonder if the new additions would be able to hold their own against a ruin filled with ferals. As if on cue, one of them even piped up, asking a question that echoed her own thoughts.

"Any of you ever been to Dunwich? I'm sure we've all heard the rumours at this point, but does anyone know what it's actually like in there?"

Sylphee immediately seemed to perk up at that, with excitement in her voice as she spoke up.

"I've been to Sandwich, Mister Willy Billy!"

She took a moment to close her eye and sigh. Of course. This was Sylphee, what else did she expect? Thomas tried to correct her without success.

"Mister I-Eat-Small-Women-and-Children took me there once upon a time. It was so much fun! There were lots of leather faces that tried to jump out and scare us and grab us! We ran around the building with them chasing us! It was the bestest time ever! Mister I-Eat-Small-Dogs-and-Cats let me shoot a couple of them and run around in front of him so that I would get the most scares from the Sandwich Building!"

Her eye popped back open at the odd nicknames, but it didn't take her long to connect them to one Henry McGee, brother to Thomas and given what she knew about him, a piss-poor excuse for a human fucking being. Quirking a brow, she turned to give Thomas a meaningful glance.

"So Hen... Mister I-Eat-Small-Dogs-and-Cats used you as bait for the Ghouls in the Dunwich Building?"

"It's a good thing you killed him when you had the chance, Shifty. I kind of wanted to kill him before from what Sylph told me about him, but now? I think I'd rather skin him alive first." she said flatly before adding in an undertone, "Using a girl as bait for ferals... That's really fucking low..."

"No! He said that he wanted me to have a lot of fun and that he'd already been on that ride before!"

Arizona scoffed. That was a likely story. If that was the case, she was the Queen of England and this was all a bad dream. When she woke up, she'd be waited on by muscular, scantily clad men who were willing and able to satisfy every whim she had.

"I think we can take that as a no. At least not in any manner that would help us navigate through that place. Besides, from what Natsuki told us, the place is filled with even more Old Ones than what Sylphee experienced in her... fun times in the Dunwich Building."

"Worse, actually. From what I was told by the men that hired me on behalf of some guy named Morgan Bloom, there's more than just ferals. There are apparently a lot of normal Ghouls like myself, but brainwashed somehow. And as if that wasn't enough, there's a chance that the Dunwich building's got a connection to some sorta sea monster. Really evil, lotta tentacles, that sort of thing." she added, wiggling her fingers a little for emphasis.

"You know, Mister I-Poop-On-You-Pillow wore a leather face mask when we were running around. He said that it was so that he could scare the leather faces... but... they didn't even try to scare him when we ran around."

Frowning, Arizona turned back to Sylphy with an odd look, wondering just what she was talking about. Leather face mask? Then it struck her. Ferals tended to ignore other Ghouls, sane or not, even if the only thing showing were their face. Added to the fact that ferals were hardly mental heavyweights, a simple mask that made someone look like a Ghoul may be enough to keep them from going ape-shit.

He ... what? Arizona... do you know what she's talking about? A mask that would keep the Mad Ancient Ones from attacking us? If such a thing existed, would it be possible for us to find some? The last thing I want for this expedition is for it to end tragically. You and I know that I've got plenty of reason for wanting to come back from this venture alive and in one piece. I've got a promise to keep."

"Yea, I think I know what she's talking about. Some kind of Ghoul mask. Ferals are stupid, but don't attack other Ghouls. The problem is, I'll need some proper skin to make the masks out of so that they'll look real enough to pass inspection." she said.

Bending down, she reached into her boot sheath and drew Jackie. The bowie knife's blade glinted in what sunlight was left.

"Now, I'm not going to volunteer my own skin for the cause, but if we find some raider's along the way, or better yet some stray ferals? I can probably make some masks for everyone." she said, her lips spreading into a crooked smile, "But I'll warn ya now, they'll stink like death. But who knows? Maybe that'll make them more convincing."

 

[FalloutJack]

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!!!


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"This is Number One speaking. Prepare the MGB for its next mission!"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Ugh, get those bastards on the radio. I've had enough of this."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Greetings, Mr. Bloom. I understand you've been acting against my people lately."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"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..."​

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Meanwhile, inside Megaton...

SPLORCH!!!

Those three look...ewww...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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.

 

[TheDoctor455]

Location: Within 30 feet of a mostly intact Pre-War structure approximately 40 by 20 by 10 feet, Last Known Owner: Casey Smith. Internal Query: How do I know that?

That and a great deal of other data flooding through the newly re-awakened Eyebot's systems wasn't making a whole lot of sense to it. Including but not limited to, why she had no less than three names circling around her head, their mysteries locked to her: ED-E, EDNA, Vera... as well as her certainty that she would rather die than remove the ribbons in her antennae, and then there were the faces... so many faces... that seemed so important mission critical to her, despite all of them being logged into her archive... as in... no longer directly relevant to her.

That was another thing... why was she thinking of herself as a "her"? So much just didn't make sense to her, the swirling, roiling broth of confusing, jumbled images and concepts buzzed through her mind back and forth, making her want to scream out loud with every fiber of her being.

Instead, she had to settle for playing the sound of a dying death-claw den mother before storming off to a nearby hill to take in more of her surroundings and consider her next move. Whatever that might be... and for whatever reason... the little Eyebot couldn't say. Literally, *and* figuratively.

 

[Neuromancer]

Megaton Gates
Chapter Change​

With farewells said, the Blacks rode on into the distance, their figures slowly but surely being swallowed by the dawning sun. He never got to give Lucy a proper farewell, but that was for the best. They had spoken, and made their peace, and said what needed to be said. Far from me to sour a never-expected family reunion with the careless muttering of words, whatever they may have been. He had never been good at goodbyes. Ironic, if you consider all the goodbyes I've had to say over the years.

Jonathan, giving the warmest farewell smile he could muster, stared on, and as the distance grew longer, so did his smile regress into a contemplative, melancholic frown, a single thought prevalent in his mind.

What now?

He turned to stare at Megaton's gate and the walls surrounding it, their gargauntian size and shape a promise of safety, one of keeping all the cruelty and violence of the wastes at bay. And yet, they never expected the violence to come from the inside.He had spent but a night in Megaton. But as I stare at these gates it feels more like months. He tried to remember the events of the night, Many though they are. His arrival, the bomb, the... undressing... and the talk that followed. And the part where it all goes downhill. The bar brawl, I'll have to make sure to steer clear of that child from now on. the clinic, Moriarty and, finally, the pogrom. How quickly my presence makes people thirsting for blood. How many people lie dead now in there? How many fathers did I pluck from their families, how many new graves are being dug on my behalf? It was as he always thought, his mere presence attracted death, and all his attempts to make amends only made things worse. So why do I do this?

He buried his head in his hat and gritted his teeth. Once you've got a task to do, it's better to do it than live with the fear of it. Even if it's a monumental task, like the one he was about to partake in. Then again, when was the last time I wasn't fighting an uphill battle?

With a sigh, he turned to the group standing a few strides away. Thomas had an expression much like his. Though for different reasons, no doubt. "We should get ready to move aswell," he said to Kristin, as he approached them, "I'd wager we all have quite a few things to do, the sooner the better. Thomas," he reached out, and the two shook hands, "Safe travels. Of all the places I've been, Dunwich is not one I'd rather visit again, and I've been to a lot of places."

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | The Road to Dunwich
I want to take his face... off...
Thomas "Shifty" McGee | Sylphee​

[hr]

Despite the fact that it was quite possible that Thomas had just exchanged his last words with Lucy Black, he was feeling surprisingly determined to complete this mission and, perhaps, find his way to the Citadal. While it was unseasonably warm for this time of year (well it was always warm) the Tall and Well Dressed Man was able to keep pace with the rest of the group, even if he was still feeling the effects of multiple blows to the head. Looking up ahead of the group, he noticed that Sylphee had put a fair amount of distance between herself and that group, thanks to her use of skipping as her preferred method of travel.

"Sylphee! Don't wander off to far, okay?" The Concerned Surrogate Father called out to his not quite all there in the head pseudo-daughter.

"Okie dokie Daddy!" Sylphee responded, slowing her skipping down by a hair.

He thought briefly about Jonathan and their departure from the group. The two had shook hands and settled their differences. While it had not been the smoothest of introductions, it had worked itself out in the end. We felt guilty that he was thankful to be rid of Jonathan and Kristin. Thomas had enough dealings with the torturous Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 to last a life time. That those two were on her watch list made the Friendly Former Undertaker less than thrilled to be in their presence, at least until they had gotten rid of the woman. Thomas' thoughts were interrupted by the gravelly voice of his traveling companion since Rivet City.

"It's a good thing you killed him when you had the chance, Shifty. I kind of wanted to kill him before from what Sylph told me about him, but now? I think I'd rather skin him alive first." Arizona said flatly before adding in an undertone, "Using a girl as bait for ferals... That's really fucking low..."

Was it actually a good thing that Henry had been killed? Thomas, wasn't quite sure considering the fact that despite the fact that his brother was a genuine bastard, he was still Thomas' brother. He supposed that the Undertaker's Union had its reasons for wanting Henry executed, but he doubted that it would have been because they were concerned about how nefarious his activities were. While there was still a tinge of guilt associated with the memory of killing his brother, he had to consider it a good thing that Henry had been liquidated, especially considering the revelation of what he'd put Sylphee through.

"I couldn't agree more. Though there are times where I feel like hanging her over a pit of hungry Mirelurks, even Walt could never forgive my brother for using Sylphee as bait for the Mad Ancient Ones." The Former Undertaker stated, surprised at the amount of anger that he did feel over Henry's use of Sylphee as a canary in a mine shaft. "Had I known this, I think that I more than likely would have buried him without benefit of Death. Of all the methods of dying, its the one thing that my brother feared the most. Ironically, it was also his chosen method of dispatching his targets. He would often give his victims a tool which could be used to break open the casket's lid. He would wait atop their grave, however, and would wait for the inevitable shifting of dirt. You see, once you compromise the integrity of a casket, the dirt starts flowing into empty cavity left by the burial vessel. His victims would suffocate to death in whether of not they broke free of their confines or not. He would often tell me that he loved it most when his targets reached the surface. He would stand there, watching for the relief to disappear from their eyes when they saw him waiting for them. He would them shoot them once in the head and leave it exposed to the elements."

The normally talkative Thomas stopped talking for a moment, wanting to change the topic of conversation. He thought about the plan to create masks out of the faces of Mad Ancient Ones.

"You know Arizona, if you need help creating these Ghoul Masks, I could always be of assistance. I do have experience with this in a way," Thomas stated as he warmed up to tell his traveling companion a story, "On my way here, I came across a Sheriff who was trying to infiltrate a gang of Raiders. These Raiders had gotten their hands on some old nuclear warheads and were threatening to detonate them in a highly populated area. Despite having knowledge of this plan, the Sheriff had no idea what the target location was. So he approached me with a rather... novel... idea. He had captured the ringleader of this Raider gang and requested that I remove the man's face and surgically graft it onto his face. Being the only one in a one hundred mile radius that knew as much about human anatomy as I did, I agreed to perform the facial transplant. I was... partially successful in completing the procedure. While I was able to remove his facial skin and that of the other patient's, I was not able to keep the both of them alive. In hindsight, this is probably why I was an Undertaker and not a surgeon. I did, however, learn quite a bit about the anatomy of the human face."

As the group trudge down the road away from Megaton, Thomas "Shifty" McGee pulled out a map he'd purchased from his pack and started looking over the crudely drawn example of cartographical sciences. If there was any singular word that could be used to describe this map, it would have been sad as its edges were in tatters and someone had obviously found an alternative use for the chart based on the prominent brown stain that covered the area of the Citadel. Despite these issues, the Friendly Former Undertaker of the DC Wastes was able to plot three different courses that would have taken them to the Dunwich Building.

Of the three paths that lead to the Dunwich Building and each of these paths had their own inherent dangers. If they took the Northern Route, it would take them through a region that was peppered with Raider groups, thanks to their proximity to Evergreen Mills, as well as Talon Company Patrols, thanks to their proximity to Fort Bannister. Not only that, they would then make a stop near Girdershade and pass through Yao Gaui central, aka F. Scott Key Trail and Campground.

A more central route would take them past the Ruins of Fairfax with its own horde of hostile Raider residents as well as Fort Independence, an apparent Brotherhood of Steel stronghold based on the intricately drawn hairy and silver phallus that was placed over the location. After these two locations, the group would then walk past the RobCo Facility to Tenpenny Towers. They would then have to traverse the Warrington Trainyard before reaching their destination. Thomas had an inkling that Arizona would want to stop at Tenpenny Towers in order to see the sights (and possibly take them if the opportunity presented itself).

The third and more southern route appeared to be safer. The group would have to hike through some rough terrain before making a stop in Andale for the night. The next morning, the group would then pass through the Overlook Drive-In and then Tenpenny Towers, where again, they would more than likely be taking in the sights.

Folding up the map, Thomas called out to the group and explained the three different paths that they could take in order to get to the Dunwich building before making his proposition.

"I doubt that we want to draw any more attention than we already will from the new inhabitants of the Dunwich Complex. So I think that the safest route would be the southern route through Andale." Shifty said as he folded up the map carefully as not to touch the brown stained corner.

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Springvale Elementary School
You're not the Sylphy I was expecting...
Constance Sorrowfeld​

[hr]

When hearing the same voice day in and day out like Constance Sorrowfeld had, something as simple a stranger's voice sticks out like a sore thumb, especially for someone who had the hearing capacity of the American Enclave Scout of America. It was especially true when the stranger's voice was an octave or two below that of Mister Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209's voice. Perhaps it had been this voice, too far out of range for her to hear what was being said but close enough for her subconscious to register, that had made the hair on the back of the Blind Scout's neck stand up on end. Then the voice finally did come into range of Constance's finely tuned ears, it was almost as if someone had hit her with the brown note.

"Sylphy Sylphy!" The voice said, triggering all sorts of alarms in the young girl's brain. The first was that the voice was imitating one of the Sylphys by simply saying "Sylphy Sylphy" without any attempt to change the pitch of his voice. The second was that he was close enough to Constance's position for her to hear him, whomever he was. The third was the fact that simply saying "Sylphy Sylphy" was all it took to bypass Sylphy Security.

Picking up her Pump Action Shotgun, the young Cat Eared Scout loaded the Swiss Army Knife of Firearms with a couple of Incendiary Rounds as well as a couple of solid slugs. Pumping the weapon, the Shotgun Wielding Neko-Scout loaded a bean bag round to be safe. Without knowing what she was going to be walking into, it was worth it to be able to bring in an additional force of Sylphys if needed.

Motioning to a couple of her subordinate Sylphys, Constance exited the school building and started following the sounds of the false Sylphy's voice. As she closed in on the source, the American Enclave Scout of America could make out another voice, this one not so strange as she'd already made Miss Jenna her acquaintance.

"I don't suppose we could talk this over, could we?" Constance heard Jenna's voice say in a very wary and very scared voice.
"I understand Mole-Rat to be plentiful in this region." Said the voice that had previously been imitating a Sylphy.

There was a big of a commotion before Jenna's voice could be heard squeaking, causing the Cat Eared Queen of the Sylphys to make her move. Charging out in the open the words "Freeze" and "Don't touch my friend (inappropriately)!" were on the tip of her tongue. Instead a word that would have cost Constance a weeks worth of dish duty slipped out when she spotted not a human imitating a Sylphy but a giant Deathclaw.

"FRR....UUUUUUCKING HELL!" Constance cursed... kinda. Out in the open, with a Deathclaw staring at her, the young girl's first instinct was to leave Jenna there and run. Her second instinct was to shoot at the Deathclaw, piss it off and get eviscerated by said pissed off Deathclaw. Her final instinct was to utter a singular phrase that all Deathclaws probably hear at least twice a day.

"Don't eat me." Constance muttered as her knees started feeling rather weak... "I... I... I... nyaaaaaah."

*THUD*

And that was two humans passed out in front of Malkos.

"Sylphy Sylphy?" A Sylphy asked Malkos eying both Jenna and Constance before attempting to drag them back to the school. Pausing the Sylphy turned back to Malkos and addressed him in a manner that made him think of ice cream with sugar on top... or whatever the Deathclaw equivalent to that was, "Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy! Sylphy!"

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

BlamCo: Retrospection & Revelations -- Work In Progress
"The foundation, development and secrets of an overlooked empire."​

Before the Great War, roughly two centuries encroaching on three, the BlamCo corporation had found itself a niche in the mainstream food industry. Best known for their specific brand of "Mac & Cheese" and relentless attempts to push the boundaries of innovation, they were met with devastating losses only exceeded by their absurd leaps of success. Still, BlamCo was not content to sit on their laurels and ride the initial wave of success with their nutritious dairy based meals.

Simple Macaroni & Cheese felt like lightning in a bottle, so BlamCo attempted to smash the bottle and seize the lightning with their bare hands.

And they did.

The corporation-turned-conglomerate rose to popularity with their cube-based food technology. The design process was simple: Take Instant Noodles and simplify the process. Aiming for a meal that could be prepared in 20 seconds, the yellow cubes were no larger than the palm of one's hand and experienced an extremely rapid cellular growth when exposed to water being boiled at average oven/microwave temperatures. Early prototypes achieved a 15-second preparation time, with the downsides of a 3 minute shelf life and an appalling flavorless texture. Inadvertently, early prototypes saw brief use in deep cover military operations where spies would swallow the cube whole only for it to rapidly expand and rupture the digestive tract -- a poor man's cyanide.

Millions of dollars of research later, the technology was perfected. With a preparation time of 10 seconds, the American Food and Drug Administration even considered BlamCo's Mac & Cheese as a positive health based product alongside the likes of raw fruits & vegetables. With an array of flavors to customise your meal and a 150-year boxed expiration date -- the BlamCo Conglomerate had caught the eye of another Industry Titan: Vault-Tec.

The idea of self-contained underground Vaults, in the advent of possible atomic annihilation, that could shelter humanities best & brightest was considered to be America's sigh of relief -- especially with regards to the political instability between America and China. So why would Vault-Tec approach BlamCo? Simple. Exclusive production rights and stocking of the Vaults with BlamCo products in exchange for resources, financial aid and protection of the Blamco Bloodline.

It was a match made in heaven. Two industry giants joining forces for the betterment of mankind. It seemed too good to be true...

---​

Very few records exist of what exactly had transpired during the decades spent in the Vault-whose-number-goes-unknown. As we all know, the Vaults were social experiments under the guise of protection in the advent of nuclear destruction. In BlamCo's case, their Vault was brimming with weaponry and Vault-Tec was interested in the psychological influence that a confined space, implements of war and the hypothesised bloodshed that would ensue in the resulting power-struggle from a haughty family of great affluence.

Not only did the BlamCo lineage surprise Vault-Tec, they exceeded their survival expectations.

For the first time, contact with the Vault was established and this branch of Vault-Tec had revealed itself to be that of the Enclave, the same group that assisted BlamCo with the Vault Food Project. The opening of the Vault was followed by one condition:

[HEADING=3]"Will you join us in the restoration of our great country?"[/HEADING]​

The BlamCo family and their descendents agreed. Implicitly.

Upon exiting the Vault and laying their eyes on a ruined world, the BlamCo Clan did not despair as one might think, instead they returned to the Vault and exited once more with everyone armed to the teeth and stocked with enough food and drink to survive a nuclear winter.

Vault-Tec no longer perceived the BlamCo bloodline as guinea pigs for a failed social experiment. No, they saw allies for their cause.

---​

The harsh Wasteland had given birth to the signature warrior mentality and glorification of triumph that permeated the BlamCo family's generations of values and teachings. With their roots in Christianity being molded by the tales of Norse Mythology, an anachronistic belief and lifestyle followed. Females of each generation romanticised the imagery and legends of Valkyries & Vikings, blending their influence to give birth to "BlamCoism" and their spiritual fervor that colored their perception of the world. A Monarchy system, in name only, was established and the titles of Kings, Queens, Princes & Princesses were worn as titles of honor, not to mention an even greater reputation that followed.

---​

The BlamCo Vault was placed in the East Coast. Unfamiliar with their terrain, they travelled to the West Coast in order to return home. The boxes of BlamCo's earlier products strewn across the Capital Wasteland was evidence of their exploration attempts, yet very few attempts were made to establish a Food Production presence on the East Coast without their resources or a base of operations. Strangely, no further contact was made by Vault-Tec -- or the Enclave, to be exact.

Returning to the West Coast, the new breed of warriors sought to the teachings of their elders, desperate to renew the former glory of the BlamCo empire under a new rule. With aid from the Follower's of The Apocalypse, the BlamCo generation of that time started the business from scratch -- integrating the luxuries of old values with the new methods that a survivalist lifestyle had taught them. The BlamCo Lineage found their footing in "New Vegas" once more, catapulting themselves on the hope that followed the subtle power of brand recognition.

Resolute in the face of danger, angry yet fiercely determined, curious to a fault and dedicated to the restoration of their great country.

[HEADING=3]"One meal at a time! We will fill their tum-tums with food and hearts with hope! FIRE THE CANNONS!!!"[/HEADING] - K.BlamCo, date unknown.​

---​

Not all information was shared, or more likely it was forgotten. The BlamCo's were reported to be found in various skirmishes with the Brotherhood and remnants of the West Coast Enclave. The Vault and subsequent rise to fame back in the day was provided by the East Coast Enclave.

So really, I was --- Kristin BlamCo, Princess, Heiress and "Valkyrie" to the BlamCo Conglomerate was *not* working with an "enemy" at a pivotal point in her life. Her actions lead to the subsequent return of BlamCo's titan levels of fame/infamy.

Actually, unknown to Kristin and her fellow sisters, she was helping out some old friends. Friends that protected her ancestors from nuclear annihilation. Trace it back far enough and remove some of the more needlessly complicated elements, you'll find that the BlamCo Conglomerate was a happily supportive affiliate of The Enclave.

How Kristin BlamCo eventually came to discover the truth...well, that was another story entirely.

---
End of excerpt

- Reigning Queen of Dairy
K.BlamCo​

[hr]
[hr]

Kristin BlamCo || Megaton Gates
"I want...an army"​

While the masses were distracted, Kristin was a little miffed that she had nobody to talk to, and she proceeded to prepare some snacks and light meals for Jonathan and herself in a somewhat passive-aggressive manner. Making occasional quips at the Mini-Microwave while it whirred and hummed, Kristin whirred and hummed in approval, clearly they had a bond that would make anyone else envious. "HUMPH!", humphed the Princess, who was actually acting like a spoiled little Princess, instead of the Unbreakable Golem of Destruction that she wished to be acknowledged as.

Echoing her previous sentiment, what would a rational person do after such a major conflict?! Clean their wounds, wash themselves off and celebrate over a hearty meal and a mug of mead! She had seen to the first 3 steps when her Mini-Micro chimed in, signalling the preparation of brahmin wraps stuffed with cheese, corn and green beans. Packaging it in little lunchboxes, Kristin withdrew a bottle of ale, smashed the bottleneck on her sword and proceeded to down the sweet ale in celebration of today's victory.

It would take a tremendous amount to get Kristin drunk, so one will be sorely disappointed if they expected to see some drunken antics from just a mere bottle of ale. Perhaps she'll challenge the Pugilist to a drinking contest at the next town that they find themselves in. A standard beer was what? A mere 200 caps? Pocket change. Why if she were home right now, she would request the construction of a BlamCo Brewery. Hmm, that was definitely an idea she going to hold onto. Mmmm, mead-maidens. She could see them now.

"We should get ready to move as well...", the Pugilist spoke to her without looking, moving past her over to the tall man from earlier.

Hmm, something was bugging her. Something from her previous exchange with him, when she had greeted him after the battle -- something was off. His enthusiasm did not match hers, let alone exist. At this point, Kristin's stare was a boring a hole into the back of Jonathan's skull, before taking a step to the side of him and she watched the very fake grin wash off his face. Her face scrunched up in concern with a spot of doubt.

"Jonathan.", the Heiress was using his first name, oh dear. She handed him a lunchbox with the brahmin wrap, along with a bottle of purified water, of which she was taking a hearty swig from one of her own. Thirstier than she expected. "Here. Eat up. It is unclear whether we will be getting a quiet moment again anytime soon."

"I've been thinking about our immediate prospects.", such a formal tone, well, unnecessarily formal given the context, "We can venture out and rally allies to our cause.", dull, unenthusiastic, a flat statement, "Or we ask if I can begin the combat training, evaluate their strengths and weaknesses, put in a request for armor or specific weapons, behavioral discipline, modify the dietary intake for the clones --- that sort of thing. Plus I have a plan for them. You can travel without my interference, if that eases things along for you. And we can meet up at a later point?"

Jonathan was the first person she would consider a friend since arriving on the East Coast. She was homesick in all honesty. Making this more complicate than it needed to be.

And by drawing on the BlamCo Valkyrie training regimen devised by her sister, Keira, she had an affinity for spotting a weakness in a pairing -- although this was not directly combat-related, it frustrated and slightly worried the Princess From Afar.
Perhaps a break would be good for them? Although she had difficulty telling what Jonathan was ever thinking, a stark contrast to the open communication with her sisters or -- Dairy forbid, a fight to the death with her Crimson Rival.

 

[Neuromancer]

Megaton Gates
Another Brick in the Wall​

Jonathan accepted the lunchbox with anything but enthusiasm. Truth of the matter was he wasn't hungry, but declining the food would likely be perceived as a slight. Especially considering her tone and demeanour. We wouldn't want the Princess to sweat over small stuff, now, would we? For what it was worth, the meal was enjoyable enough that eating didn't feel too much like a slog.

"I've been thinking about our immediate prospects." said the Princess, and Jonathan stopped in his tracks, felt his stomach tighten As though if I swallow any more I'd end up vomitting it all out.

"We can venture out and rally allies to our cause." It was evidently clear that she wasn't quite fond of the thought. The Princess finds the prospect of talking with her mouth rather than her sword a most uninspiring of endeavours. And what is her counter-proposal?

"Or we ask if I can begin the combat training, evaluate their strengths and weaknesses, put in a request for armor or specific weapons, behavioral discipline, modify the dietary intake for the clones --- that sort of thing. Plus I have a plan for them. You can travel without my interference, if that eases things along for you. And we can meet up at a later point?"

For the briefest of moments, Jonathan lost his cold composure, and stared at her, wide-eyed. So, that's how it is. Quickly regaining it, he stared at her, contemplatively Never mind the fact that was exactly what Charlotte wanted to begin with. Or the fact that I am supposed to requisition the very weapons the Princess may want. Or not knowing how the clones will even react to her training. Does she even know what she's doing? Do I?

"I cannot say that I find it the most sound of courses, given what we know," he finally said, diplomatically, "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. We are supposed to meet a contact in Springvale. We can discuss this after we learn more from them."

He turned away from her, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "If that's how you feel about the matter, I am not one to stop you."

"After all, if you've a task to do, it's better to do it than live in fear of it." And took the first step.

 

[The Harkinator]

"I doubt that we want to draw any more attention than we already will from the new inhabitants of the Dunwich Complex. So I think that the safest route would be the southern route through Andale." Said Shifty, folding his map up after laying out their options.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. It might take us a little longer but I'd rather make it there in one piece." William had absolutely no worries about raiders or Talon Company, particularly in their large group, but would prefer a relatively quiet journey. "I mean, we'll have to find some ghouls at some point so we can... wear their faces... but we should be fine up until that point. Andale isn't still full of cannibals is it? I heard it was a cannibal town." He continued, thinking out loud.

"Cannibals? Ya better be sure they ain't still around that place. I don't want us wakin' up on some creeps plate." Chipped in Dudley. He'd never been to Tenpenny Tower, and was looking forward to the opportunity. He wasn't looking forward to the ghoul masks though, for a man who projectile vomits when he hears to word "processing" Dudley wasn't likely to react well to wearing a mask of stitched up ghoul face.

"To be honest Duds I don't think we'd be waking up at all, if that's any comfort." Responded William, swiftly realising it was likely to have the opposite effect. Indeed Dudley went rather pale and quiet as he thought about it.

"The southern route would also provide us with the shade and cover of cliffs if we required it. Should we encounter a Vertibird flying overhead it would be bound to spot a group as large as ours on the open wasteland. But that southern route would give us plenty of shelter and we'd see the Vertibird from a mile away." Added Evan, trying to get the group's minds back on their journey.

"I suppose you could say it's all going a bit south..." Joked William as their group set off on the road to Andale, it was a rubbish joke that brought a collective groan from the group. Some may have though he'd jinxed the journey now, but William was sure people didn't really jinx things like they used to before. He'd heard years ago some people had the almost supernatural power to turn themselves and everything around them into a walking disaster zone.

One story he was almost certain had been exaggerated was about Calamity Jack, wasteland gunslinger. Who'd once walked into a bar full of people trying to kill him, only to have all their guns jam. Jack had then gone for his gun only to have that jam too. Calamity Jack was beaten to death in the ensuing brawl but the man who threw the final punch broke his hand and died two weeks later of an infection. Now there was a man who knew how to jinx things.