The Meeting

The duo of the travel-worn woman and the warrior went back to their own conversation, as if he had not spoken up. The clinic is fairly small, so their words reverberated against the metal walls – soft noises in the background of the groaning Rivet City. Well, he focused his attention on the one he asked the question to, if the other two want to join the conversation, they will.

There seemed to be some sort of miscommunication at play here. It only made sense, his dialect was different than theirs. He supposed he should be grateful that they spoke the same language at all – given how long the tribe has been isolated.

When she was done, Danveris said, “No, I didn’t mean to just get the Stimpacs for free – I know that you must pay for things, especially something as powerful as Stimpacs. Anyway, I’m glad to hear the clinic sells them. I’ll be back once I have some more caps.”

At this point the warrior left to join Preston and the bar fighter, probably to pick up his own possessions, and the travel-worn woman, Kirra, if he heard correctly, sat in a nearby chair. He turned to her, “Which is why I need a job,” He said, “What about you? Kirra was it? What do you do for work around here? Do you work at the clinic as well?”

To those uninitiated in the ways of the Pa Kua tribe the way Danveris seemed to jump from person to person must seem odd. But during the nights where warriors and hunters gathered around campfire such was the way conversations went – with each of the tribals interjecting when they could. This was doubly true for Danveris, who touched both groups in the tribe – belonging to none.

When the warrior, James, returned he spoke again to Kirra. Danveris figured the conversation with her was over now, so he turned his gaze back to the woman who worked there (her name was the only one he had not learned), however he stopped. James held the oddest weapon Danveris had ever seen in his hands. Instead of the metal “barrel” the weapon had a hollow, green tube at the end. The actual gun itself had cords, knobs and dials on its base. All in all it looked like the most complicated piece of Old World weaponry the tribal had ever seen. And there was only one reason to make a gun more complicated – in order to make the gun stronger.

Even by wastelander standards, such a weapon was not normal.

Eyes furrowed, Danveris turned his gaze entirely on James.

“You. Warrior.” He said, as his hands curled into fists, “What are you?”

He may have to reevaluate the decision to introduce himself to Rivet City if it had men walking around with such dangerous-looking weapons.

Victoria moved around to Kirra, slipping past the two men, back to her childhood friend, before the tribal man had confronted the concussed patient. "Mind if I steal you for a minute?" she asked, a smile curled on her lips. Kirra blinked for a moment, unsure whether or not to leave the boys alone together.
"Uh, sure Vicky. What's on your mind?" She asked. Victoria took them outside of the clinic for a moment.
"I just thought we could catch up really quick. I'm sure you have things to do, and I do have to get back to work, but... I haven't seen you in ages. How have you been?" She asked.
Kirra remained silent for a short moment, before replying. "To tell you the truth Vicky, I've been better, but i'm improving. A few years travelling definitely helped. I'd like to give you the full story sometime, but i think we should save that until later." A look of sadness lingered in Kirra's eyes, before she rubbed a hand over her face then smiled.
"So Vicky, what about you? How has life treated you here in Rivet City?"
"It's been... fine. A little bit lonely, I suppose... no-body wants to go for the nerdy girl that works in the lab, I guess." She said, giggling a little, though it was clear she wasn't too happy. "Anyway, we should probably get back inside. Need anything else?" She asked, as they walked back through the clinic door.

There was a beat of silence after he spoke. He could tell that Kirra could sense the tension in the air, feel its weight, however the other woman, the one who worked at the clinic, brushed by Danveris and talked with Kirra. (Only dimly did he register the words “Vicky” – a nickname of sorts? The name was spoken fondly.) Instead he still had his eyes focused on James, who now introduced himself.

“Paladin of the Brother Hood of Steel, Capitol Wasteland chapter. What are you?”

Danveris figured as much. The man was clearly part of some group, and if they all had such powerful weapons as the one he possessed they must be quite the threat. It did not escape Danveris’ notice that the man’s eyes flickered over to a bonesaw – he was overly aggressive. The type to throw a punch when someone just wanted to talk. Hostile aggression plus powerful, Old-World guns did not mix well.

“I am the Third Son of Grand Master Adam of the Pa Kua tribe. But I’m sure that means as little to you as your introduction did to me. Enlighten me, Paladin,” Danveris knew how to use titles of respect, “what is this Brotherhood of Steel? Do they all possess weaponry such as that?” Danveris said, gesturing to the odd weapon the warrior had been showing off to Kirra. “And what is their intentions for the Capitol Wasteland?” Even though this was the first time he had heard of the Capitol Wasteland, he had known of wastelands in general – having lived in the Viriginia one down south – so the words felt natural on his lips anyway.

What he was really concerned about at the moment was whether this “Brotherhood of Steel” meant ill for the wastelanders of the Capitol Wasteland, and by association him as well. The last time Danveris had set foot in the Capitol Wasteland he had been “enslaved” by “slavers” of Paradise Falls. He would not be in such a state again. He would learn about the factions in the Capitol Wasteland – his own survival depended on it.