The Really Wild Wastelands | The Distant Past | New Vegas
'The Followers, Freeside and Hunting'
- Sable "Swan-Maiden" Blamco -
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'The Followers, Freeside and Hunting'
- Sable "Swan-Maiden" Blamco -
---
RadAway & Rad-X, often considered to be miracles of modern medicine, were absolutely vital in an age where radiation exposure was all-too-plentiful to the unfortunate and the unsavvy. A recent stream of successful results had emerged from BlamCo's Research & Development division. Several new entries were being considered for mass-production and the department was left with a surplus of emergency medical supplies. Keeping in line with Blamco tradition and BlamCo business practises, anything that was deemed useful to their allies was fit for delivery.
A mousey female, jumpy in disposition, was struggling to find a way to carry four of the aforementioned medical supplies in various containers. The pursed lips and furrowed brows lead to an air of frustration. An air of frustration so seemingly senseless, even a bemused BlamCo Swan-Maiden couldn't stifle an off-putting giggle mere centimeters from the girl's back.
"M-m-m-miss -- LADY BLAMCO!", the girl stammered, hand clutched over her heart.
"Come now, Delivery Girl." Sable Blamco waved off the loyal retainer with a faint smile. "Save the formalities for Keira and those that live on prideful validation. I am here to assist you for a change of pace. Freeside, was it? Did you not grow up there?"
Delivery Girl blinked, swallowed and grew flustered in her attempts to wipe the surprise from her face. Of all the sisters, Sable was the least-demanding and very rarely sought Delivery Girl's services, instead settling for personal advice and quiet moments between a shared pot of tea. If anything, Delivery Girl was treated like an equal, yet she felt like Sable kept a wellspring of secrets under the eerily calm exterior.
"Y-yes. Lady Sa-- sorry -- Sable.", Delivery Girl stammered whilst frowning with greater intensity, seemingly frustrated with Sable's uncanny ability to disarm the plucky girl with an uncanny force of presence. "Freeside is home for me. Though we need to move quickly and inconspicuously which might prove difficult with your...armor, cape and various implements of war. Miss Blamco! I urge you to reconsider this trip! Freeside is a dangerous place and you might draw too much attention -- ..."
"I am one-third of the Valkyrie Unit.", Sable interrupted with a delicately raised a hand at an opportune moment, "I do ever so appreciate the sentiment my dear Delivery Girl, but I fear you might need the protection more than I do.", a faint smile emerged, exuding an unnerving serenity so unquestionable that her retainer simply agreed without question.
Clad in white leather armor with dazzling silver plate reinforcements, Sable had a retracted ballistic riot shield with an accompanying power spear worn across her back. A short-barreled hunting rifle rested on a thigh-holster along a bandoleer of pouches draped across her chest. What was inside these pouches were a mystery to anyone else but Sable. Strawberry blonde hair tied into an immaculate french braid draped over her shoulder --- the Delivery Girl, clad in an oversized jacket and a mechanic's overalls looked positively mortified at the disparity between their respective appearances.
Sharing the burden of containers, the duo proceeded with their delivery of the cooled medical supplies. "Umm."
"Speak freely.", Sable replied flatly, not before adding a bemused, "...Delivery Girl."
"I have a name you know! It's Annabelle. 'Anne-with-a-bell'.", Catching herself, Annabelle almost dropped the containers out of shock. "My apologies Lady Sable! I spoke out of turn, please forgiv -- ..."
"You've been working with Keira lately, am I right?", Annabelle nodded and Sable's eyes glazed over. "Do not let her abuse you. We were born with great privilege and an insurmountable responsibility on our shoulders. We would not be here if you weren't supporting us from afar. You are not a slave, Annabelle. You are a dear friend. So if Kristin's pride threatens to overthrow your opinion or if Keira's callous behaviour has you intimidated -- tell them, in no uncertain terms, that I will personally teach them a lesson when they least expect it."
"Thank you, Lady Sable.", Annabelle looked like she was on the verge of tears.
Poor girl, it was quite common for BlamCo technicians and scientists to feel reluctant to work with Keira BlamCo. More prone to cerebral activities and BlamCo's business-orientated work, Keira possessed a brilliant mind yet a terrible attitude. It was little wonder why Kristin Blamco was becoming the face of BlamCo, a milestone that Sable was all-too-pleased to hear, Kristin's upbeat attitude and flair for the bombastic served as inspiration to those around her at any given moment.
"Lady Sable?", Annabelle queried after making their way through a large crowd, "I thought you were the designated sniper of the Valkyrie Unit. Why the shield and spear?"
Sable cocked her head to the side, remembering how much more imposing she looked with a shield & spear. While she regarded her hunting rifle with a level of contempt, she felt like a failure of a sniper. It was her role to prevent the deaths of her sisters, yet she was not fast enough, strong enough, too cautious. No, today marked the end of her use of gun-related weaponry...she would master the intensity of close quarter combat, albeit with a very precise approach. After all, today she was on her way out for training with her new weaponry on top of the memorial for her lost sisters.
"I dislike guns.", Sable stated, "While I respect their power, I am not fond of the dehumanisation that takes place during combat. I am no less guilty of it than those that picked off my sisters. People, abominations, feral animals --- nothing should be treated as just a target. So if I must, if I absolutely have to, I will fight for the sake of protection and support."
"How does Kristin do it then?", Annabelle looked on with bewilderment, "She has no shield and she has...difficulties finding the safety switch on ballistic weaponry."
"Kristin is the type of warrior that can look down the barrel of a gun and laugh. A confused enemy will then be dashed away by that moment of hesitation. She knows no fear and defies common sense in order to topple her foes. She is bigger than me, bigger than you, bigger than this very story. Her spirit is larger than life itself."
Annabelle still looked confused. It wasn't a very satisfying answer. Then the mousey girl stopped in her tracks and clung to the medical containers. "Stay very still, Lady Sable!", Annabelle hissed in fear, "Cover your pockets and don't react to anything. Don't move. Cling onto everything you hold dear!"
Sable, confused, was about to request what had caused the sudden shift in disposition. Before she could speak, the duo were enveloped in a small roaming crowd. Hoods drawn over their heads and bandana's concealing their faces, Sable could feel her body being groped. Their hands, in a matter of milliseconds, changed size and shape. Searching, ever searching for something and it was in that moment that Sable drew her shield, manually pulling the adjustable ballistic shield to cover the length of her body. During this seemingly aggressive motion, the crowd dispersed in every direction possible, scattering and causing a ruckus for everyone nearby.
"Lady Sable! Check your pockets, check everything!", Annabelle was panicked, less so for her sake and more so for Sable.
Sable checked her inventory. Shield, spear, rifle, armor and even the medical supplies...everything seemed intact. "What was that?"
"A Rabbit Run!", Annabelle spat those words with fury, "They overwhelm you with numbers, taking advantage of your surprise and steal whatever they can get their hands on. Before you realise what's happening, they scamper away before you can even identify what's missing, let alone who took your things!"
Sable kneeled down, laid a pale hand on Annabelle's shoulder. "Whatever they did, they failed. But --- ", Oh. Annabelle was furiously patting the inside of her coat. "Your pocketwatch? I'll buy you a new one, no, I'll make an urgent request for your very own pip-boy.", Annabelle looked tearful once more, pip-boys were nigh-impossible to simply purchase due to their extreme utility and high-demand. "They probably saw your panicked state and you had become the easier target. They probably assumed I was your bodyguard."
Annabelle sniffed, wiped her nose on her sleeve, picked herself up and proceeded to carry the medical supplies to the Follower's HQ in Freeside. "I won't make you regret it, Lady Sable!", Annabelle stated with fiery determination, "When my pip-boy arrives, I will work night-and-day to make it up to you. One day, I will make a Vertibird fly once more and it will bear the BlamCo banner! I will paint it black in your honor!"
Is this what Kristin felt like? This feeling of unquestionable loyalty being declared for her sake. It was heartwarming and admirable, Sable enjoyed the passion in Annabelle's eyes. And yet -- all it took was a promise to buy a pip-boy. It was a tool that Sable overlooked, but to someone like Annabelle, it was invaluable in her studies as a mechanic and maintenance-maiden.
"Then it's settled.", Sable concluded with a soft smile, her heart beating faster at the reciprocation of kindness. Annabelle was one of few that did not actively avoid Sable. "I will put in a request when I get home tomorrow morning."
"THIEEEF! WE GOT A THIIIEEEEF HERE!!!"//"D'JA HEAR DAT?! HE WAS GONNA MAKE ME DEAD!"//"STOP HIM! GET HIM!"
As the duo rounded the corner, those words cut through the intimate moment with Annabelle. Sable, having already seen a victim of thievery before her very eyes, was not about to let this stand as long she roamed this street. Drawing her hunting rifle, Annabelle eyes widened. "Please! Lady Sable, don't do anything rash!"
Sable exhaled and steadied her breathing, her eyes wide and unblinking, her face expressionless, "Take the supplies to the Follower's. Now.", her voice was distant and cold.
After watching a man with a raider-style haircut desecrate the corpse of a woman sprawled in the middle of the road. The deviant panicked as a crowd stood and watched, a few shouted, yet nobody reacted except the outraged woman that had regained consciousness, apparently not as lifeless as she had appeared. The bystander effect, he was probably taking advantage of this phenomenon. Meanwhile, Sable had steadied her rifle in order to confirm that she could take a clean headshot. Quickly, she reached for a hollow-point round on the bandoleer of pouches containing various bullets and memorial items. Nothing...her bullets were missing! The pouch was gone. Quickly taking aim, centering the reticle on the sharply-dressed man's forehead, she pulled the trigger.
*click!*...*click!*...*click!*
The chambered round was removed. No, worse. This wasn't even her rifle! A dud, a fake, a replacement! A short-barreled hunting rifle was extremely common and rather popular, so her refurbished version would fetch a higher price than this rusted contraption. How had those Rabbits so deftly switched out a rifle of all things!?
In a rare moment of anger, Sable slammed the body-sized ballistic shield into the ground. Drawing her power spear, the superheated tip started to glow and emanate a heat shimmer in the air when it reached it's dangerous blue glow.
Uprooting the shield, Sable ran after the thief. The crowd turned to the face the heavy sound of armor hitting the ground as Sable broke out into a sprint. A few people screamed or jumped out of the way, the 6.5 foot black shield mixed with a glowing weapon and silver armor was a fearful sight to the unprepared. Following the dispersed crowd and direction of pointed fingers from those idly standing around, Sable rounded a corner which lead to a narrow alleyway.
Slamming down her shield to block the exit, Sable drew the attention of the thief by prodding at a nearby metal dumpster, the spear melted and pierced the material with minimal effort. Whatever residue remained was quickly melted with an audible sizzle when Sable lowered the spear towards the thief.
"Hand over what you have taken, Thief.", Sable commanded with empty eyes, advancing with a single step and in doing so, putting the pressure on her adversary. "There is no need for bloodshed if you have some semblance of sense!"
Who would have thought, the first day of putting her melee weapons training into practice...it would occur with an Illustrious Undertaker.
[hr]
The Wild Wastelands | Present Day | Springvale Elementary School
"Embers of Pride"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
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"Embers of Pride"
- Kristin 'Valkyrie' Blamco -
---
"Thank you, Miss Kristin," The Formerly Silent American Enclave Scout said with a smile, "Thank you for helping the Sylphys and me. Thank you for accepting us without a second's hesitation. Thank you for everything... especially this wonderful food. The American Enclave Scouts of America never taught us to make foods with this much flavor. They'd always said nutrition first and taste last. But... this is the best meal I've ever had."
The BlamCo Heiress was humbled and truly happy to discover unbridled appreciation in the confines of a relatively small kitchen space. Moments like these where people from all walks of life, stripped of affiliation and responsibilities, were brought together by the joys of food. With a wry grin, Kristin attempted to imagine what kind of lifestyle one would have to lead to so thoroughly neglect the palate of our All-Seeing-Scout.
"I really, really, really, reallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreallyreally hope that I can live up to your expectations, Mimimiss Kristinininin." The Young Girl practically stuttered with excitement! Kristin's head whipped to the side.
"
...
"I would hate to disapp-"
The sentence was abruptly cut off by the sudden appearance of a mob of Sylphys that barged through the kitchen door. Their special guest? None other that Jonathan McKenna himself. Not quite the reunion that Kristin had in mind, considering that she originally planned to deliver him his meal and hope to find him in a more amicable mood while they ironed out their differences, in spite of Kristin's reluctance to justify her two centuries of family history that she had no control over. Stubborn pride aside, Kristin expected to feel a familiar rush of hope --- a call-to-arms for those around her with a sour face. But watching intently, her former companion rose to his feet, took a seat and proceeded to cut away at his bindings. On any other day, Kristin would have slapped the glumness from his face. But not today. The sight of his apathy had lead to Kristin's despondent disposition. Their relationship, if one could call it that, had become an emotional minefield.
"I... ummmm... I..." Constance stammered for a moment, diverting Kristin's attention to her once more, "When I said bring Mister McKenna here for dinner, I meant ask him to come here to have dinner, not capture him and bring him here to be dinner." Turning to Kristin, "Miss Kristin... I... thought that if I were going to be a good host like you are, it would be best to have Mister McKenna arrive for dinner with all of us. I didn't mean for... this... to happen."[/b]
Kristin's jaw clenched instinctively, brow furrowed and chin raised to look down upon the smaller Scout. This flash of searing-frustration was intense but short-lived. Shoulders sagged, a last bite was taken and a small dismissive sigh was Kristin's reply. Her eyes had lost their spark and her posture was off, almost like she was minimising the space she was taking up, the furious grip on her wrist betrayed her restraint. All the while, her face was uncharacteristically devoid of emotion -- well, any positive emotion that is.
"I have heard the summons.", Jonathan finally started, breaking the silence which lead to a greater deafening silence.
"Enjoy your meal.", Kristin replied mechanically, lifting the plastic cover off of his warm plate. "Excuse me, I have others guests to attend to."
With a complete loss in her appetite, Kristin walked over to the kitchen proper and started putting her armor back on. She felt exposed, not in a manner of liberation, but rather in the claustrophobia of vulnerability. The familiar weight of her battle regalia did nothing for her mood. Fetching her things and grabbing one of the larger cooks pots. Something prodded at her rear, that something being the Pattycake Sylphy eagerly eyeing the contents of the large container. Kristin pointed at the stack of bowls. Understanding her intent, the Sylphy grabbed a precariously balanced stack while Kristin beckoned her to follow.
--------------
Exiting the kitchen with more Sylphys joining as she walked, Kristin attempted to speak to Pattycake Sylph. "Your name would be?"
"Sylphy!"
"Ahh, of course.", Kristin muttered under her breath, "How am I meant to differentiate you from your sisters?"
"Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy Sylphy.", the Sylphy concluded with a proud nod.
"So...you are considered the 7th Sylphy?". Kristin was in dire need of Constance's help.
Communication barrier aside, the Sylphys understood intent and universal signals. Upon reaching an empty classroom, the gaggle of Sylphys followed in single file. At the front of the classroom, Kristin put the pot of food on the classroom's podium. A few attempted to claw at the lid, those few received a swift slap of the wrist. In a demonstrating fashion, Kristin beckoned for the Pattycake Sylph to step forward and lay the bowls on a nearby table. Grabbing a bowl and handing it to Pattycake Sylph, she was greeting with her first helping of BlamCo stew along with the necessary cutlery that was fetched from the kitchen.
After a few miscommunications and the assertion that the bowls were not hats. This batch of Sylphy's slower learned that if they were to be fed, they would need to follow a basic rule structure. Positive reinforcement.
Admittedly, the sight of each Sylphy's eyes lighting up upon receiving a complete meal with a potential promise of leftovers was more than heartwarming. It was a longer process than expected, she had to resort to a visual pantomime of the act of receiving food and taking a seat without bothering anyone else. Very few of them fought for food, yet the rate at which they wolfed down their serving portions had the Heiress concerned.
It was going to be a rough few days. Taking note of her students, Kristin kept an eye out for those that shared, kept to themselves or those that appeared to argue. Every detail was important and Kristin would begin dividing the Sylphys into differing categories based on displayed behaviour. Pattycake Sylphy seemed particularly attached, probably for the promise of more food. But during her antics to draw Kristin's attention, Pattycake Sylphy started mimicking Kristin's stance -- eagerly untying her hair and pulling downwards in an attempt to create the impression of artificial length. This gave her an idea, walking over to each Sylphy, Kristin mimicked a certain hairstyle for the Sylphy to wear.
- The team-players wore their hair in an over-the-shoulder braid.
- The quiet ones were fine with a simple ponytail.
- The aggressive ones retained their loose messy hair, a reflection of their disposition.
It wasn't quite as useful as a name or even stringing together a sentence, but by her count: 25 Sylphys were accounted for, fed and temporarily categorised in this previously abandoned classroom. Back to the kitchen and onto the next batch or so, BlamCo forbid that these Sylphys had begun to multiply.