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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 18, 2015 14:32:29 GMT -5
(Just for the sake of clarity, I'm going to go ahead and say that this RP takes place after Rad Apple) "Move it, ya whore! MOVE IT!" The Slaver hissed fiercely as he yanked on the chains that bound the bony formed, gaunt faced woman to her two children. Night had fallen over the Capital Wasteland, shrouding it in a blanket of darkness, which, as it had even hundreds of years before the Great War, been the perfect cover for the black deeds of humanity. This was one of those times. A fresh batch of human meat to be sold to the highest bidder. More human trafficking for the ring at Paradise Falls shopping center. More business for Eulogy Jones. The children, a girl and a boy, had cried loudly for the first ten minutes after they had been violently captured and bound. Ten minutes, and several cuts and bruises and blackened eyes, later they simply trudge along, their young minds not fully comprehending what was happening to them. That was good. The Brotherhood of Steel was not often kind to the Slavers if they happened to cross paths, and those freaks that called themselves the "Regulators" were constantly searching for them, always looking to interrupt business. It was good to stay low. Always had been. And as long as you knew the territory, the wildlife wasn't too hard to avoid. As long as you approached from the South, Death Claws weren't an issue, since Paradise Falls was far enough from Old Olney and the Sanctuary that it was almost considered safe, and Radscorpions weren't too big a deal. The worst threat were the Super Mutants, but as long as you were quiet, they weren't a problem. "Christ, I'm beat..." One of the Slavers sighed. He was a younger guy, and, by the look of some of his clothes, which had human body parts on display, it was easy to see he had been a Raider previously. "I could use a drink..." "Shuddup," The Slaver tugging the woman along growled. "I'm sick of yer bitching." "Fuck you," The young man replied casually from behind him. "We're almost at The Falls," The leader mumbled, tugging hard on the woman's chains again. She gasped at the pain as the metal dug into her wrists. "MOVE damn it! After that, you can just about drown yourself in booze for all I care." "That'd be just fine," The Ex-Raider said smiling. "But you better be able to shoot tomorrow," The leader warned. "Gotta deal tomorrow. And if anything goes sour, you best be able to hit somethin, bud." The young man made a noise from behind him. A sharp exhale noise. A disrespectful snort, most likely. He was a punk, and the leader didn't like him. Thought he was tough shit since he'd been a Raider for three fucking months and had killed two dudes and collected their hands and ears. Yeah, what a real champ, a real fucking... One of the children, the girl, screamed, and the Slaver began to turn, his teeth barring in a nasty snarl. "Didn't I tell you to keep quiet!? Stick out your tongue!" That was what he meant to say. He had told the kids, as well as their mother, that if they made any further noise, he'd cut their tongues right out. The man was pulling his knife from the sheath, intent on doing just this, but before he could complete his turn, he felt cold steel sink into the back of his neck, right above the collar of his leather armor. Jesus, fuck! Was his first thought, That yellow bastard is turning on me!He felt the knife being pulled smoothly out and he turned in a clumsy circle, still trying to pull out his knife, but it seemed to gain a thousand pounds instantly, and the world began to swim in blur. It was not the Ex-Raider boy who he had expected, no, THAT guy was already down, a hefty amount of blood spewing from his slit throat. He never got a good look at who (or what) it was. For the moment he turned to completely face it, they stepped forward and drove their blade right into his right eye. The instant before that, he saw the moon glimmer over what appeared to be perfectly white hair. The person (if it was a person) moved with almost godlike speed. The knife was pulled smoothly out of the worthless eye as the man opened his mouth to scream, and before any noise could escape, the sharp edge whisked across his own throat, spewing warm blood in a spurting fan. He found he could only croak, but the pain forced him to continue to try to scream. He was still trying when his knees failed and he fell into the dirt. He was still trying when the blur turned into enveloping darkness. ... Special F.B.I Agent, Elizabeth Straton wiped the blade of the Balisong Knife onto the man's leather armor as he clutched his throat, a wet croak escaping his lips. When it was clean, she turned away from him as he fell to his knees. She was done him and her gaze fell upon the women and the children, all of whom shrank away from her at once. It was understandable. Even though she had technically just saved them, she had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. They hadn't even heard her coming... "Don't be afraid," Agent Straton said calmly. She held up a gloved hand. The key sparkled in the moon light. "Hold out your wrists." The mother hesitated for a moment before relenting. It wasn't as if she had a choice. Staton slipped the key into the lock of the shackles, and, in no time at all, they were off. A second later, the ones on the children were also removed. They all looked at the woman with the white hair and the dark suit, completely dumbfounded. "Who are you?" The mother asked, both gratefully and fearfully. "I'm nobody," The Agent replied, picking up the weapons of the two dead men. A 10MM, a Combat Knife, and an old Hunting Rifle. Grand. She extended all of these to the mother, who stepped back a moment before realizing that they were being given to her, not pointed at her. "Take these. Protect your children. There's a gas station just down that way. Stay there for the night. It's too dangerous to travel at night." "Why are you helping us?" The woman asked cautiously. "Because it's my job," The white haired woman replied simply and then turned. And it was here that the mother thought she must be going crazy for the next second the woman appeared to completely disappear without a trace in the night.
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055 Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Jan 24, 2015 1:16:20 GMT -5
The Warden had recently finished a contract in Megaton, and was on his way to Paradise Falls, to see if there was any work there. He did not enjoy working with Slavers, it was brutal, and inefficient. A slave does not read minds. It does not know how you want things exactly. But money was money.
He was on the home stretch, when he noticed a slaver caravan delivering some new blood. The Slavers did not see the figure moving towards them, but the Warden did. His eyesight was ever acute. He fastened his pace towards the caravan. The figure did indeed slay the slavers, he did not care, Eulogy Jones would not go with a caravan. The children had started to run in his direction, so the Warden used a tree as cover. His figure would surely intimidate them. Once the children had passed, he walked again in the direction of the caravan, the assassin was gone.
The Warden stood over the bodies of the men, and examined them. A knife made the fatal wounds on the slavers. He would tell Eulogy, in the morning, when the Warden felt less like killing a man for a bed. Onwards to Paradise Falls it was.
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 24, 2015 2:51:51 GMT -5
Agent Straton, shrouded under the veil of the Stealth Boy tech in her watch, stared down at Paradise Falls from atop a nearby hill that overhung it. It was dark out, and many of the Slavers would be asleep by now, while their victims remained locked in pens, like animals. It had long been her goal to eradicate the Slavers from the Capital Wasteland, but it was no easy task. These men were not Raiders, who were often so drugged up that when it was time for them to crash for the night, they really DID crash. It made it easy to simply walk through and slit all of their throats. These men, at least a fair amount of them, were not so careless. These were business men, and business men made a point to watch over their product if they had any sense. Kept it locked up and "protect" it from any unwanted harm.
Killing all of the Slavers wasn't really the problem. Even though it was extremely dangerous, with her being both outnumbered and outgunned severely, the Agent was certain that she could pull if off. She had done so in the past before. No, the real problem were the slaves themselves, regretfully. Men, women, elderly, children...how were she to get them out safely? If the Slavers caught wind of anything unusual going on in their territory, they'd send some groups to investigate, yes, but the rest of them would stay near the Slave Pen to make sure their source of income wasn't to be tampered with. And if push came to shove, Eulogy Jones would push a button to fire off the bomb collars around the necks of his "product". If he couldn't have them, then no one else would. The Slavers would be dead, but the victims would be lost in the process, and Straton couldn't let that happen. The best time would be to wait for the Slave Pen to be empty...but of course that had never happened...nor would it ever.
But one day, the Slavers would meet their end. Straton would see to it. That day would not be tonight. It most likely would not be tomorrow. But Agent Straton swore that, before she drew her last breath, Paradise Falls would fall.
And Eulogy Jones would hang.
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055 Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Jan 24, 2015 3:30:10 GMT -5
The Warden walked freely up to the front guard, and he knew very well not to converse with the Warden, there was simply a "Welcome back.", and a grunt of acknowledgement from the Warden. He walked into the settlement itself, and found a nice wall close to a fire to lean against and go to sleep on.
The sun shone down onto the Warden, indicating it was time to talk business. He groggily rose to his feet, and slung his rifle around his shoulder. The entrance to Eulogy's place was not far. He walked up the steps, and noticed many eyes were on him. It would not matter, he was not going to be here for long. The door opened before the Warden had a chance to get close to it, it was Eulogy.
"Ah. Warden. What can I help you with today."
"I was hoping you could help me. I need work."
Eulogy thought for a moment, the caravan that was attacked last night was brought up.
"I know you only do assassinations, but I have a caravan that did not arrive last night."
Before Eulogy could continue, the Warden cut him off.
"It was attacked, the slaves set free. I witnessed it before I came in here."
"And you didn't think of recapturing them?"
"They mean nothing to me."
"Very well. Find the attackers and kill them. A thousand caps?"
"Deal."
And with that, the Warden walked out of Paradise Falls, and back to the attacked caravan. He hoped to track the attacker.
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 24, 2015 5:14:42 GMT -5
The sun rose on Canterbury Commons and the caravans rode out. As they did every morning. The small town held one of Agent Straton's small bases. She had several out in the wasteland, places to go if she felt assassins were after her and she needed a rest, but few, if any, were as comfortable as the one in Canterbury. This place actually had a bed, where her other hide outs were lucky to have even a sleeping bag. Straton arose, got dressed, and made her way out into the street. She had been a regular appearance at Canterbury for several months now, and, at this point, even Uncle Roe barely spared her a glance. This caused some shady characters to find their way into town on a few occasions, but that wasn't a problem. Most of the time, they didn't make into town at all, and for the few that did, ol' Dom and Machete took care of them when caused a ruckus. The townspeople surely would have rallied to have her removed from the town if she hadn't assisted in killing Super Mutants a few months back, with the assistance of others (see Alert in Canterbury, apocyliptica.yuku.com/topic/680/Alert-in-Canterbury-open?page=1#.VMNe0i5rXzs). But, she clearly didn't mean to kill anybody, she helped keep the town safe, and she paid Uncle Roe on time every month. The woman had walked for a few moments before a voice spoke up. "Ah, Agent Straton!" It was, of course, Good Ol' Mister Sherman, a wandering prospector who frequented Canterbury regularly and was about the only person who spoke to Straton. "I haven't seen you in ages! How have you been?" "As well as one can be in today's world," Straton replied simply. "I took a trip up to New York." "Oh?" Sherman replied, curious. "What drove you there?" "I heard some stories from a few who had passed by there," The Agent told him. "It was a horrible place when I arrived, but it is doing better now." "Because of you?" "I wouldn't presume to that sort of credit," Straton shook her head. "A simple, yet sufficient way to explain it is to say that there was a change in management." "I see..." Mister Sherman replied gravely. He wasn't really completely sure if he DID actually see what she meant, but he supposed it didn't really matter. His life was here, in the Capital Wasteland, not up in New York. "What do you plan to do now that you're back, Agent Straton?" "I think I'd rather not say," The woman replied, beginning to walk away. "I wouldn't want to worry you." And she meant that. "Well..." Mister Sherman replied, removing his derby. "Whatever you're going to do...be careful, alright? You're a good soul, Agent Straton...I think I speak for a lot of people, whether they know it or not, when I say the Wasteland needs a person like you." "I know it does," Straton agreed. "And don't worry. I'll be back." She kept going. She had a full day ahead of her. It was not an easy job attempting to reduce the amount of filth that lived in the Capital Wasteland, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying. The Slavers of Paradise Falls were just one slice of the rotten pie. There were others, and they all needed to be destroyed; the Raiders, the Super Mutants, the Talon Company, the Enclave, each of them a plague. But the Enclave was crippled, and the Raiders and Super Mutants were had little organization and almost no leadership. The Talon Company and the Slavers were quickly become her two priorities these days. The Company could wait. The worst those thugs typically did was kill someone. They took the lives of their victims quickly with a bullet. The Slavers did it slowly, by taking away freedom and subjecting their victims with a life of misery and abuse. Straton gripped the stock of the Python revolver, as it sat in its holster, and began to think of Paradise Falls defenses again.
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Post by Endicott on Jan 24, 2015 17:21:11 GMT -5
It was dry morning in the wasteland, both in the atmosphere and Adan's mouth which felt like cotton. It took a while to get his bearings, but after seeing a familiar looking bottle on the ground nearby his glasses he knew too well what had happened; he'd wandered out from the Citadel after another argument with Lyons (either of them), drunk an entire bottle of either alcohol or whiskey and had passed out behind a rock in the wasteland, with the darkness as his safety blanket. Shaking his head and coughing, he picked up his glasses, stomped on the bottle with one of the boots of his power armour and wandered off, his head feeling as vast as the entire of a mutie if it was balding and had a grey combover.
The nearest town looked like it might be the Republic of Dave... or, maybe Megaton? No, no, it must've been Rivet City. In truth, it was none of these; it was Canterbury Commons. It looked to be a way away though, but Adan needed a drink of water and something to eat to ease his hangover. The Corvega Factory was visible in the distance, so the walk would be about a quarter of an hour as long as he didn't have to stop for anything or as long as the pain didn't make him pass out. About thirty seconds into the walk, he realised that his Laser RCW had been misplaced; if he was attacked on the journey, he'd be defenseless.
"Fuckin' goddamnit, Adan. You've had that gun since Lost Hills... ya'.. uh, my head..."
But it wouldn't be too long before he saw it again, it seemed. The burnt out cars in the area and the myriad of rock formations made for a lot of hiding places, and Adan knew this, but was in too much pain to care. Seemingly from beneath the blanket of dust of the wasteland itself, out came some junkie from one of the burnt out cars, with a very familiar looking Laser RCW in his hands, pointing it uncomfortably close to Adan's head.
"H-hey, yo', man, get down! Now! Get down! I want that armour!", the man seemed to scream.
Adan sighed, and tried his best to explain why this couldn't happen.
"I can't, jackass. It's fitted, it doesn't come off unless I go see one of the techies and get them to dismantle it. I can't just "take it off". So, tough luck.", he said dryly with a raspy voice.
"LIAR!", the robber screeched at full volume, deafening Adan, only making him angrier. The Laser RCW's cartridge release was pulled instead of the trigger, and the Electron Cell Pack fell to the ground. The man's jaw dropped simultaneously, as did the gun from his hands in disbelief.
"C'mon, man... it's... it's hard out here...", he squirmed as he backed away from Adan, who was now bearing his yellowed teeth. He paid no attention to the man's pleas and simply ran into him shoulder first and pinned him the ground, punching him over and over. His face changed colour with each hit; red, brown, purple, black, red... Adan had definitely lost his cool. Once the man's face was barely recognisable, he stood up and delivered the killing blow to the man's head beneath his metal boot.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME? YOU THINK I'M SOME PUSHOVER?! IS IT 'CAUSE I'M OLD, HUH?! IS IT?! YOU THINK I'M WORTHLESS TOO?!"
Adan's cries were not directed at this man, but at his peers within the Brotherhood who had began to grow detached from him due to him distancing himself from them due to their ideologies drifting down a different path. Adan had never killed so coldly as he had just, and the site of the man's blood and brains all of his hands and armour made him wretch, with last-night's alcohol coming out with it. He felt morbid as he picked up the gun and began to jog to Canterbury Commons, disgusted with his behavior.
...
As he arrived at the town's entrance, his armour which normally gave off an heir of trustworthiness was marred by bloodstains and cranial matter. Uncle Roe gave him a passing glance as he entered the town, and he headed straight for the diner. Without haste, he ordered some bottled water and then simply got out of there, avoiding the looks of the townsfolk who seemed a little shocked and a little worried about him. The day was still young, and he walked on down the route out of the town. Not far in the distance, there appeared to be a woman walking down the same path as him. Adan wasn't sure of who she could be, but her appearance was odd; white hair and some kind of formal attire. Odd for the wasteland. She was a little in the distance, but he picked up the pace and made his way about a metre behind her, about to greet her and see who she was. Hell, he needed someone to talk to other than himself, especially after that just happened...
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055 Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Jan 24, 2015 17:30:13 GMT -5
(Skip me, I'll let Adan and Straton get close to Paradise Falls before the Warden does anything.)
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 24, 2015 21:22:02 GMT -5
Agent Straton didn't really pay any mind to the man from the Brotherhood at first.
She tended to stay out of their way. Most of them weren't bad people, and her revolver was worthless against their power armor. The problem with them is they often didn't like her. The only reason she could think of was her appearance. Most people assumed her to be a member of the Enclave. The Brotherhood members of Elder Lyons usually didn't fire at her (the few times they actually saw her), but the Outcasts often did, and because of that, Straton made a point to carry at least one Pulse Grenade with her. This particular Brotherhood didn't seem to be part of their ilk, as his armor wasn't painted like theirs.
But he was painted with blood.
Especially around his right foot. You didn't need to be a trained killer to know that this man had just caved in a man's skull, which wasn't typical behavior from the Lyons Brotherhood. Still, she had no idea how that had occurred. It could have been a Raider's skull. So, she decided to ignore him and keep going.
But then she heard his heavy foot falls close in from behind, the reek of the man's victim's remains came with him. Seeing that an exchange was about to be had, she turned around and raised a hand for him to stop, like the way traffic cops had to cars before the War.
"That's close enough," She said. A hand went into her pocket and pulled out the Pulse Grenade. "If you have business with me, you can state it there." She paused. "A bit far off from the Citadel, aren't you? And alone, as well? Another defector from Lyon's Brotherhood, I presume?"
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Post by Endicott on Jan 24, 2015 21:42:49 GMT -5
Adan stopped as the woman did, standing still and expressionless until she spoke to him, holding a pulse grenade. She must've known of the weakness in their power armour to them, and her attire was like that of some kind of operative or professional assassin of sorts, seeing as if she'd just been a normal survival Adan theorised she would've been wearing something more practical.
"That's close enough," She said. A hand went into her pocket and pulled out the Pulse Grenade. "If you have business with me, you can state it there." She paused. "A bit far off from the Citadel, aren't you? And alone, as well? Another defector from Lyon's Brotherhood, I presume?"
Adan took a moment to think of an answer, since he himself wasn't really too sure.
"I ain't no defector, I'm just... on business.", he motioned, though his eyes, lips and breath told a different story altogether. He cleared his throat, and croaked, "I don't have any business with you, though... but... you don't look like other wasters, and I'm.. lonely, if you want the truth."
It certainly was the truth; he was lonely. The Brotherhood were his friends, but they were distant now, and the wastelanders he met always saw the Brotherhood as uppity and self-righteous... and, who knows, maybe they were right all along.
"What are you? Ex-Enclave? Another one of Eden's devil-headed minions? ...If ya' are, I wouldn't hold a grudge. They're certainly a damn sight better than those NCR assheads back west of here, but that's another story."
If this women had been aware of who the NCR were back in California, perhaps Adan wouldn't feel so old and away from home, but he was betting she wouldn't. Hell, people out here don't even know that some Super Mutants are still capable of human behavior and not just mindless aggression, or that aliens with no eyes and giant teeth exist. Nope, Adan was one of the oldest of his kind, and one of the most skeptical.
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 25, 2015 7:47:41 GMT -5
...I'm lonely...
The Agent blinked at the man, one of her eyebrows raising. That...was not the response she had been expecting by any means. This man was a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, and, by the look of him, old enough to be a veteran of sorts, one who was rich in combat experience. He was covered in blood, far away from the Citadel, and had just admitted to being lonely to somebody he had never met before in his life. Straton knew that only those trained in Power Armor could wear them, so this man certainly was no fraud. Perhaps he had seen one too many battles and it had finally gotten to him. Regardless, Agent Straton had no intention in helping this man with his "loneliness", whether or not he was sane.
"What are you? Ex-Enclave? Another one of Eden's devil-headed minions? ...If ya' are, I wouldn't hold a grudge. They're certainly a damn sight better than those NCR assheads back west of here, but that's another story."
"I have no affiliations with anybody...especially not the Enclave, sir," Agent Straton replied, still holding up the Pulse Grenade. She decided she was just going to ignore the whole "lonely" line of dialogue. "And to say that they're worse than the NCR is rather jaundiced, wouldn't you agree? The New California Republic is surely not the best of all factions, but I don't see them performing ghastly experimentations on people and planning mass genocide by poisoning the water supply. The Brotherhood and the Republic have hated each other for so long that they've forgotten the unity they once shared in eradicating the Enclave. Pitiful, really."
Agent Straton began to walk away from the man, but did not put the Pulse Grenade back in her pocket. Not yet...
"Now, if you'll excuse me, sir...' She said. "I have matters to attend to, and wicked men to put an end to."
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 27, 2015 7:01:19 GMT -5
(Endicott, we're still skipping Sal until we get close to Paradise Falls, in case you were waiting for him to go).
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Post by Endicott on Jan 28, 2015 14:18:54 GMT -5
"I have no affiliations with anybody...especially not the Enclave, sir," Agent Straton replied, still holding up the Pulse Grenade. Adan wasn't intimidated; he knew he wouldn't do anything to make her use her weapon. At least she wasn't with the Enclave... but that begged the question of who she really did work for, because her demeanor and mannerisms (as well as the pulse grenade) certainly suggest otherwise.
"And to say that they're worse than the NCR is rather jaundiced, wouldn't you agree? The New California Republic is surely not the best of all factions, but I don't see them performing ghastly experimentations on people and planning mass genocide by poisoning the water supply. The Brotherhood and the Republic have hated each other for so long that they've forgotten the unity they once shared in eradicating the Enclave. Pitiful, really."
Adan was astounded she even knew of the reference he was making, and in a way this made him more comfortable and less comfortable at the same time; she was familiar with something from his past (nostalgia, of sorts) but how on earth could she even know of their existence this far from California? Straton seemed almost unearthly to Adan, but he was too focused on arguing about the NCR to care.
"We didn't need their help to break the Enclave, we just didn't want to spare all of our expenses on the war. We USED them... hell, they're almost as fascist as the Enclave; the NCR's just a bloated corporate tumour growing on the west coast, poisoning the land with their tax reforms and knuckle-dragging gung-ho trigger-happy "army" keeping the people down!", Adan exclaimed, going a little red.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, sir...' She said, seeming to gracefully ignore his rage, "I have matters to attend to, and wicked men to put an end to."
As she began to walk away, Adan began to shout. "Hey, wait! How do you know of the NCR? And who are these "wicked men" you must put an end to?". She was still holding the pulse grenade, but Adan wasn't intimidated.
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Jan 29, 2015 8:10:48 GMT -5
Straton did indeed ignore the man's rage, as he spewed hatred towards the NCR. He wasn't entirely wrong; The Republic was, arguably, corrupt and their methods of assimilation was...questionable at times. Still, to say that the NCR was as malevolent as the Enclave was simply ludicrous to Straton's mind. The Agent had only had limited exposure to those of the Republic, but those she had met seemed to be alright people with their hearts in the right place. Most of them didn't view wastelanders as common filth to which mass genocide was the only solution. Not everything about the NCR was good...but everything about the Enclave was bad.
"Hey, wait! How do you know of the NCR? And who are these "wicked men" you must put an end to?"
"Neither of those things are any of your concern," Agent Straton replied, not turning around. "But if you must know, the Capital Wasteland is not the only place I've visited. And there are several 'wicked me', but the ones I specifically refer to are the lowlifes of the settlement known as Paradise Falls. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
In a previous life, Straton would never have given out this sort of information, for fear it might compromise her mission, and her reputation as a professional in the ranks of the F.B.I. But, these days, it hardly mattered. Back before the war, her opponents were often more technologically savvy and well equipped and had their own intelligence operations. Now, finding a person who could read was an accomplishment. Plus, she was her own agent now, with no one but herself to report to. She no longer cared about if people knew she was after them, sometimes. In fact, she sort of liked the idea, to be honest. It kept some of them up at night, and that suited her fine.
Just fine, indeed.
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Post by Endicott on Feb 4, 2015 3:22:25 GMT -5
"Neither of those things are any of your concern," Agent Straton replied, not turning around. "But if you must know, the Capital Wasteland is not the only place I've visited. And there are several 'wicked me', but the ones I specifically refer to are the lowlifes of the settlement known as Paradise Falls. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
Adan was becoming more and more intrigued, and yet more and more suspicious. This white-haired suit-sporting maiden had been to the West Coast and back again. She didn't exactly clarify how she had done so either, or what contact she may have had with the NCR, and something was nagging at the back of his head. The Brotherhood rarely met anyone that was organised except the Enclave or Talon Company (if you could call them organised), and she didn't seem to fit the mindset of the devil-headed Enclave nor the macabre Talon Company... Her mission was too noble to be the dirty work of these groups.
Speaking of her mission... perhaps Adan could shed some light on her if he were to assist her. Though seeing as she'd come here from the West Coast, he wasn't sure if she needed help. It couldn't hurt to try.
"It's a slaver settlement... I know of it. It's regrettable that the Enclave and Mutant threat have kept us at bay for so long, as the Falls has only become stronger in that time, and it still isn't a priority for Lyons. But.. Lyons and I don't see eye to eye so much anymore. Why don't you let me help you?"
Adan wasn't sure whether or not this was a good use of his time, but it was probably better than sitting around drowning his sorrows and waking up in whatever dark blanketed corner of the wasteland would choose to shelter him.
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Post by Ambassador SteelPlate on Feb 5, 2015 7:22:25 GMT -5
"Why don't you let me help you?"
Agent Straton turned to look at the man.
"Now why would you want to do that?" She asked, raising one of her eyebrows again. "The Slavers have never been a priority of the Brotherhood of Steel. If they had, then Paradise Falls would ceased to have existed quite some time ago."
This was undoubtedly true in Straton's mind. She could see no reason to believe otherwise. The Brotherhood possessed superior armor, weapons, and overall equipment. The Slavers, while well equipped when compared to the standard Raider, were certainly no match for three or four power armored Paladins, let alone a full squad.
"More importantly," Straton continued. "Why should I let you accompany me? I don't have the slightest inclination as to who you even are, let alone where your loyalties reside. Despite your claim to the contrary, you still strike me as a defector from the Brotherhood of Steel...or a member who is thinking of defecting, at any rate. Why would you have any interest in helping me and not joining the Outcasts?"
Straton was beginning to become interested in the man. All signs showed he was, indeed, a defector. He was out wandering on his own, far away from the Citadel. He seemed to have little respect for Elder Lyons. But, unlike most defectors, who went off to the Outcasts, looking down on every wastelander along the way, he seemed much less cruel and ignorant. Perhaps he was different from the Outcasts.
Maybe.
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