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Post by Zelus on Sept 22, 2015 16:09:47 GMT -5
Andale, Capital Wasteland
Rusty looked between Michael and Shea. He wasn’t comfortable with the situation; something just itched at the back of his mind. He didn’t know quite what it was, but it was enough to make his shoulders tense up beneath his leather jacket. “I guess a drink would be alright…” He murmured, though the tone in his voice was one of utter weariness. As he heard Shea speak, his eyes wandered over to her. It seemed like she was up for the Nuka Cola at least. Then again, he wasn’t exactly surprised; he remembered her frustration at the empty nuka-cola machine. He gave her a small smirk, though when he heard Robert talk, Rusty turned to the guy. “Nuka freaks, huh?” Rusty’s eye latched onto the guy like a clamp. He blinked for a moment. Wait… that looked eerily familiar, it was a look that sent shivers down his spine. McQueen had looked at him just like that hadn’t he? Rusty wrung his hands together, as he watched the guy looking over at Shea. Surely this guy wasn’t another McQueen was he…? Rusty couldn’t deny the possibility of more men like him in the wasteland. It was an unfortunate truth, but with Talon Company in mind, there was probably an awful lot of McQueens out there. Now the guy was seemingly trying to push them towards Michael’s house. If Michael was anything like this Robert guy though… Rusty attempted to hide his suspicion as he turned to look at Shea. He remembered her talk about the poker face. It was at that moment that he realised she was seemingly having the same doubts about these men. Unfortunately she seemed to want to play along. If Rusty had been able to get his own way, he would’ve immediately passed the settlement and gone straight to their client. Unfortunately that wasn’t going to be the case, and the two would have to spend some time with this community of creepsters. Still, they couldn’t be that bad could they? It was Michael who took the opportunity to lead them towards his house. The way he moved, it was as if the man hadn’t a care in the world, he just stepped lightly off towards his house. Every so often he looked back at those behind him to make sure he was being followed. Rusty moved to walk next to Shea, though her attention was on the creepier of the two men. It was probably a wise move, so Rusty turned his attention to Michael. “So where guy guys from?” Michael asked as they walked up the garden path. Rusty flinched, though he was thankful for the fact that neither of the men could see his face. “Oh, uh. I’m from the inner city myself.” He told, deciding it didn’t really matter either way. He looked around, eying a lady in a dress. He hadn’t seen many women in dresses, thinking on it. Very few of the women in Rivet City wore dresses, his mother never wore them. She joke that she was practically a man on more than one occasion. Hell, weirdly enough, the half-naked dead raider from the previous night was the only woman he’d ever really looked at properly in a dress. The thought made him chuckle, though he quickly shook it off and turned back to the freshly swept steps of the house. Everything was perfect, and whilst the houses needed new coats of paint, they had been cleaned somehow. Where would someone even get paint for a house in the wasteland anyway? Rusty shook his head ‘nowhere’ he thought as Michael ascended towards the house. It was then they passed an ugly gnome statue. His face wrinkled up in utter disgust. He wanted to exclaim loudly ‘what the fuck is that,’ but that would’ve been rude. Rusty stifled his reaction as best as possible, though Shea noticed. He just shook his head at her as if to tell her he was fine. As Robert moved up the steps, it became clear that the man used a knife. Given how he seemed to be the resident handy man for the area, it was likely the guy had strength behind him. A knife was lethal in the right hands, and something told Rusty, Robert’s hands were the right hands… or the wrong hands depending on how you chose to look at it. Once inside, Rusty wiped his dusty feet on the doormat, like he had done a thousand times at home. He looked around and whistled slightly. It certainly was nice though, creepily so, but nice. Standing next to Shea, Rusty looked around, though Michael soon waved his hand towards the living room. “You guys make yourselves comfortable on the couch… Robert, you go wash up, ya know Barbara hates it when you get dirt in her chairs.” The man told, walking towards the kitchen door and poking his head inside. “Huh. Not in here. Wonder where she is.” He stated as he turned around to watch Rusty stomp off into the living room. Rusty took off his bags and popped them down on the floor next to the two seater couch he found a seat on. He looked around the room, noticing the intact TV sat on a stand in front of him. There was a small coffee table in front of him and next to his couch was another. Rusty noticed a polished ashtray sat on the table in front of him, a lighter stood neatly nearby. Everything was clean and spotless. Even the TV screen had been cleaned… not that it had worked in two centuries. “Ah there she is.” Michael said as a pair of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. “We’ve got visitors honey. Mind getting them some Nuka, we’ll be in the living room.” He told as he turned and wandered into the living room. Michael soon found ‘his’ chair off to one side. “Sure.” A female voice spoke lightly, as her heels clicked on the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll join you guys in a few minutes…” And with that the woman, who had only been briefly seen as she past the doorway disappeared into the kitchen. Glasses started clanging as the woman moved about in the kitchen. Sure enough a few minutes went by and she wandered into the living room with a small tray in hand. On it there were five bottles of Nuka-Cola. “Courtesy of the plant down the road.” She grinned, placing one in front of either of them, along with a clean glass. She was tall with pitch black hair, and like the other woman, wore a dress though hers was blue. She reached into her front pocket and pulled out a cigarette, and placed one in her mouth. Soon enough she reached for the lighter, though she quickly offered Rusty and Shea a cigarette. Rusty of course awkwardly refused, though he looked at Shea knowing she couldn’t help herself. “Welcome to my home… Uhm… I don’t think Michael told me your names.” |
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Sept 25, 2015 18:52:29 GMT -5
Andale, Capital Wasteland
“You guys make yourselves comfortable on the couch… Robert, you go wash up, ya know Barbara hates it when you get dirt in her chairs.” The man told, walking towards the kitchen door and poking his head inside.
Shea followed Rusty into the living room while Robert moved through a door that the woman presumed must be a bathroom. No longer occupied with studying the wandering-eyed handyman, she turned her attention to the living room. While Michael and Barbara's house contained all the common crap found in almost every Old-World home she'd looted, this dwelling was immaculate. Even the brass caps on the table legs reflected the sunlight brilliantly. Ammonia could be extracted from urine, and the chemical made an excellent cleaner and disinfectant. Abraxo was still common across the Wasteland as well, somehow weathering the apocalypse and a few centuries with little chemical breakdown. Regardless, a lot of effort had went into this house, and likely the entire community. The house, in contrast, made her feel much filthier than she had ten minutes ago. Ignoring the sudden self-conscious idea, she nonchalantly looked out the window as Rusty sat his gear down near the couch.
Why, hello. she thought to herself as a figure disappeared behind the blinds of the neighbor's house. Acting as if she had seen nothing, Shea made her way to the couch as Rusty say down. The expression on his face assured Shea that the cushion was comfortable as hell. She had noticed the lighter quickly; a windproof, stainless steel model of high quality. Her own was of the same make, but dirty, battered, and weathered. Satisfied with the situation, she placed her DKS rifle on the wall and her pack on the floor before setting down. While comfortable, she was aware that the "love-seat" restricted she and Rusty's movements if they had to act quickly. Her mind was busy attempting to read the entire situation when Mike spoke again.
“Ah there she is.” Michael said as a pair of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. “We’ve got visitors honey. Mind getting them some Nuka, we’ll be in the living room.”
“Sure.” A female voice spoke lightly, as her heels clicked on the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll join you guys in a few minutes…”
“Courtesy of the plant down the road.” She grinned, placing one in front of either of them, along with a clean glass. “Welcome to my home… Uhm… I don’t think Michael told me your names.”
Shea accepted the cigarette, leaning forward and allowing the domestic goddess to light it. Shea gave the woman a coy smile. The mercenary then took a long drag, burning nearly a quarter of the cigarette in one hit. Releasing a cloud of smoke from her nostrils and making a note of a nearby Nuka plant, she ignored the clean glass and picked up the bottle of cola. After emptying half of the bottle in two swills it was slowly sat back on the oddly shaped table.
"Daluka." Shea replied to Barbara, silently admiring the woman's obsidian hair as she crossed her legs. "And this is Argo." she continued, nodding her head to Rusty. "Thanks for tha drinks and tha smoke." she said, taking another swill. "Your as kind as you are beautiful." Shea admired, looking to Rusty for agreement.
"So, what brings Miss Daluka and Mister Argo to Andale?" Robert asked amiably, entering the living room. Somehow he had managed a change into clean clothes, and his arms and face showed no lingering signs of dirt and dust. Shea eyed him with an expressionless face, drinking in every minor detail of the waster's body language. The one-eyed woman had chose to ignore his formalities, even though it annoyed her greatly to be labeled anything like "Miss".
"Glad you asked. Business. We work fer Mr. Burt Raynes." The mercenary replied, taking another hit of the cigarette and observing the three strangers. If they had recognized the name of the ruthless caravan owner, they didn't show it. It was difficult to judge whether the name dropped had worked at all. "We're supposed to meet with a man named Eddie. Bigger guy, short hair, glasses." she said quietly. A moment of silence passed.
"You haven't seen him around, have you?" Shea knew the answer before the strangers could reply. Their own subtle, subconscious reactions had betrayed them just as Robert's eyes had minutes earlier. The mercenary glanced to Rusty, curious to see what he felt.
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Post by Zelus on Sept 26, 2015 16:23:29 GMT -5
Andale, Capital Wasteland
Rusty’s eye followed Shea around the room, his eyebrow raised somewhat as she looked out of the window. What had she caught sight of? He gave it a shrug as she walked back over to him. He was relieved to have a seat, to ease his ankle. What weight he had on it was now off allowing him to relax… Then again there were all these creepy people around. They were too friendly, too nice. He didn’t really think everyone was like Shea in the wasteland, but these guys had practically hugged them. With a snort, Rusty shook his head at Shea. Of course she had taken the cigarette, of course. He’d expected as much, and gave a look of slight triumph. As Barbara lit Shea’s cigarette, Rusty leaned forward. He pulled his glass closer to him, and then opened his nuka-cola. Quietly he watched the liquid as he poured it into the glass. Though he didn’t pour all of it in, he left some for later. He caught a glance from Michael; maybe he was offended by the amount he’d poured or something. Rusty sheepishly looked away, allowing Shea to introduce them. Daluka and Argo, huh? Rusty wondered where she’d gotten the name from, he certainly never heard of names like that. Then again, he certainly hadn’t heard many names over the years. Rusty sipped cautiously at his Nuka-cola, whilst Shea guzzled it. Clearly he was willing to take his time with it. He gave a brief chuckle as he realised Shea’s cigarette was almost gone by the time he leaned back against the cushion. Rusty almost choked as Shea complimented the woman and then turned to him to get confirmation. Red cheeks flared a bit, as he looked over at Barbara. “O-oh. Ye-eah. She really is, isn’t she…?” He asked, not entirely too comfortable showing that kind of side of himself. It was especially awkward given the fact that he’d never actually spoken about finding someone attractive out loud to anyone at all. Rusty fidgeted in his seat a bit, though he was glad when Robert spoke up. Rusty turned as he walked in, looking the man up and down. He certainly looked better clean, rather than caked with concrete dust or whatever he was using. His eyebrow rose up when he was referred to as ‘mister’. That wasn’t something that had happened before. If he remembered rightly, wasn’t a surname supposed to be used after that? When he had first gone to Rivet City he remembered sitting at the bar with some guy, He’d told Rusty about family names, and it was there he had come to the realisation that his parents had never told him what he was. So far as he had been concerned, he was Rusty, and well, that was that. There was that name again. Burt Raynes, the mysterious employer of rough necks. Rusty scratched at his cheek and nodded in agreement with Shea. Rusty noticed that none of them reacted to the name, perhaps he wasn’t as famous or infamous as Shea had led him to believe. Either that or they just didn’t care about the guy. It was then Shea asked about the guy who was going to buy that damn collar of Shea’s. The thing Rusty wanted to just destroy or get rid of. Throw it into the ocean or something. Unfortunately Shea had seemed adamant about selling it. More silence from the residents. Rusty blinked at them as Shea asked them whether they had seen them. It seemed like they had, though Rusty couldn’t tell. With a blink, he turned sluggishly towards Shea. Something was wrong. Did it get dark all of a sudden…? Why was she fuzzy..? What was going on…? Rusty leaned forward somewhat, but the glass slipped out of his hand, shattering on the floor and spilling the remains of his Nuka-Cola on the floor. “The fuck…” He moaned, looking over at Barbara. “Well then, a potty mouth this one.” She laughed rising to her feet. “Right after smashing one of my glasses too.” She pouted looking down at the debris at the floor. Rusty didn’t know how it happened, but as he fell forward, he was caught by Michael, who had somehow managed to get to his side. Michael casually pushed Rusty back against the cushion. “Careful not to let them fall in the glass, don’t wanna be picking glass out of them later. Robert, grab the woman, I’m sure you can handle her. Barb, clean this mess up, if you’d be a dear. Then go get Ralph, I’m sure he’ll want to get his hands on the product whilst it’s fresh.” Rusty managed to look up at Michael as the man grabbed a hold of his jacket and hauled him up. With vision fading, he sluggishly reached out to grab a hold of Michael, though it proved to be his last movement. Everything faded out before him, and it’d be sometime before he awoke. ‘Was that humming…? Ow. What the hell was that? Ow! There it is again!’ Rusty’s eye flickered open. He was on his back on a wooden table. Above him a light bulb, turned on swayed in the air, a chain switch clung lazily to the side of the bulb. Not really feeling like moving, he turned his head slightly, noticing a man standing over him with a fountain pen, scratching his skin occasionally. Rusty bit his lip to keep himself from moaning out in pain. ‘What the fuck… who is this guy?’ Rusty asked himself in thought. The man quietly placed the fountain pen down by Rusty’s side and turned his back to him. Rusty watched carefully as the man picked up a cleaver and began rubbing it over with a cloth. With a wide eye, Rusty quickly looked around for an escape route. He saw the door, as well as large metal shelf with several skulls sat neatly across it. There was a metal barrel, with it’s lid off, as well as some meat hooks. Though the light lit it up, Rusty couldn’t focus his eye enough to see what the dark patches were on the metal. Then again, he didn’t really need to see to know what was there. He did notice that he and the man was alone however, and that he was without clothing, though a quick look over to one side of the room allowed him to see the feint outline of his shirt, pants and boots folded neatly together. ‘Where the hell is Shea?’ Rusty asked himself. ‘Oh fuck, oh fuck.’ Rusty panicked as the man turned to him for a moment, before going back to cleaning his blade. Rusty quickly felt around, almost instantly finding the fountain pen. Without a second thought, he tossed it at the door. As the pen hit the door, it made a loud clang and then it fell down onto the doormat. The man jumped a bit, turning to the door with an angry growl. “I’m going to murder those kids.” He snapped, putting his cleaver down and stomping off towards the door. As the man passed him, Rusty quickly slid off the table, landing on the ground without a sound. He swayed a bit as he moved over to the only visible weapon in the shack. The door was pulled open though much to the man’s surprise, it didn’t open all the way. “Huh…? What’s going on?” the guy asked, looking down to see what had caught the door. He stepped out of the light to reveal the fountain pen lodged under the door. “But that’s…” Rusty moved quickly, manoeuvring around the man’s sight as he looked up at the table, seeing it empty. Cleaver in hand, Rusty swung at the stranger, who only had a moment to notice Rusty was even there before the cleaver caught in his throat. Stumbling back the man fell against the door closing it again with the weight of his body as blood leaked over the metal. Stomach churning, Rusty grabbed a hold of the table, and grimaced a bit. “Those… fuckers… they did something to the Nuka.” Rusty wiped the sweat of his brow as the room stopped spinning and he was able to compose himself. He then looked down at his body, noticing distinct markings all over his body, though they were neatly arranged, almost as if bits of him had been sectioned off. “The fuck… What am I…?” Rusty growled though the realisation hit him as he really ‘noticed’ the cleaver. “You… you assholes.” Rusty snapped at the leaking corpse leant against the door. “Ralph! Ralph, are you done in there yet? The kids are getting hungry. I need to put dinner on. You know what those kids are like when they’re hungry…” called a female voice from outside. Rusty flinched. There were a few awkward moments, before there was a frustrated noise and then a door slam. With a loud sigh, Rusty turned and grabbed his clothes from the nearby table and quickly pulled them on. “Shea… oh shit, she’s probably still with Michael and his gang.” Rusty murmured as he ran around the table and pulled the cleaver out of Ralph’s neck, causing more blood to spill out. Rusty quickly dragged the guy away from the door and then patted him over. After finding an ever so slightly blood pistol, Rusty released a slightly relieved sigh. Making sure to give the room a once over, but only finding that the shack was used for butchery, Rusty turned off the light and opened the door. It was early evening now, whilst the sun still sat on the horizon, it was getting dark quickly. Rusty looked over at the house he was now behind, relieved to see the curtains drawn. No one was going to be able to see him. He shut the door on his way out of the metal shack, before sprinting across the yard. It only took him a moment to get his bearing as the familiar sight of Michael’s house stood in front of him across the street. Rusty could hear the chatter of kids within a nearby window. He breathed a sigh at the thought of the kids. Did they know what they ate for dinner every night...? It was probably normal for them. He almost felt bad that they’d probably go hungry for the night… let alone having lost their dad. Still he couldn’t think about that now… He had to get over to help Shea… if she was even still alive. He gulped somewhat as he made his way around Ralph’s house. Not even looking up and down the street, Rusty sprinted towards Michael’s house. He hopped the foot-high fence and quickly headed straight toward’s the door. With his gun drawn, he opened the door and went inside in the hope that Shea was okay. |
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Sept 26, 2015 20:13:32 GMT -5
Sounds in the darkness.
Voices could be heard, muffled. Far away. The room was cold. Her skin was cold. Her head throbbed, the pain growing slowly as the mercenary faded back to consciousness. A cough escaped her lips, followed by a foul smell. They spiked the Nuka...
The thoughts were there, but difficult to piece together. Her mind was weak. It struggled to communicate with her body, a cold sensation creeping across her skin as the dampness of the room cooled her body. The blue eye fluttered, but refused to fully open. Shea attempted to lift her head and failed as it bobbed drunkenly towards the floor. A disgusting taste lingered in her mouth.
"Fuck." she whispered as he eyelids fluttered again. A lantern lit the room as her vision swam. The air smelled foul. Shea-Victoria groaned as she looked around slowly, her vision swaying with the jerky movements of her head. She was in a wide concrete room, hanging from something. She found her arms above her head, bound at the wrist and hanging from the ceiling. Another muffled coughing fit escaped her as the voices outside continued.
They were talking about her. Robert. The other voice is... I don't know. Her head continued to ache, and the young woman's stomach began to turn. The room contained a metal table, stained with the blood of previous victims. A knife sat on a steel tray, it's blade gleaming in the dim light. Shea grunted and shook her arms, unsuccessful at freeing her wrists from their bindings. Her breath came in quicker gasps now, adrenaline fighting the potent chemicals in her blood. She noticed a bathtub in the corner, spotting the source of the foul smell inside it. Blood.
"...and you know how Barbara is, she doesn't like the dirty meat. She agreed to..(muffled speech) And trust me, this one's dirty." Robert's voice could barely be heard somewhere behind the metal door.
"What'd you trade Mike and Barbara for her, then?" It definitely wasn't Michael's voice. Where was she?
As another wave of vertigo struck Shea, she struggled weakly against the bindings on which she hung. A sharp pain stung her palm, and the mercenary groaned as a warm trickle rolled down her wrist. A hook. Shea struggled to look above her, catching a glimpse of the hook. Duct tape bound her wrists, the woman's own weight holding her binding on the hook.
"...and im building his shed, so I'd say they got a bargain. (muffled speech) ...ow much you paying?"
"Why you in such a hurry?"
"Cus she works fer Burt Raynes. We can't afford to leave any trace of her... Michael will skin us alive if gun-hands come looking for them."
Shea groaned quietly, her head still spinning as she blinked away the water from her eyes. "Hell no." The woman jerked herself forward again, jumping from her bare feet and attempting to lift her wrists from the hook. Swinging back awkwardly, her gaze found her jacket, shorts, and gear in a dark corner. Where's Rusty? she thought suddenly, her visioning searching for signs of the young man. She saw nothing.
"Alright, no bruises. And remember, you.. (muffled speech) ...don't speak a word of this to Barbara, Michael, Ralph, no one. You know how they talk. You understand?"
"I know what I'm doing, Rob."
The mercenary shook her head, the pain in her skull constant. These fuckers are gonna pay. Oh boy.. he thoughts turned to a rage. They musta killed Eddie. They took my fucking money. If they hurt Rusty, I'll... something had caught her eye. On the metal counter were trays and various spices. On the wall was a drawing, a sort of diagram of a human leg. It was labed "prime cuts".
So this is happening. Son of a bitch.
The metal door swung open and a single person enters, closing the door slowly behind himself. From under her brow, Shea saw that it was not Robert who had entered the chamber. Must be his buddy.
"My name's Charlie. And girl, you look like you wanna take a bite outta me. I bet you'd love to have one of your guns, wouldn't you? You look like you would kill a man. Mmhmm. You're a mean one, alright. An look a those scars. Someone punished you good." the middle-aged man said quietly, walking closed to Shea as she hung from the hook. His brown mustache twitched. "But I know what to do with mean doggies, too..." the stranger said quietly, a disturbing look overcoming his face. He placed a small pocket-knife in his mouth. It looked disturbingly dull in the dim lighting.
"No.. " Shea said as pathetically as possible, giving a feeble wiggle on her restraints. The man closed the distance, his eyes on Shea's stomach.
Using all the strength in her torso, the woman lifted her legs up above the man's head, bringing them down so that he was caught just aboved her knees. The mans spit on her legs as she squeezed his neck and growled. The man grunted as her legs smashed his cheeks and chin.
"Is that all you have left in you, girl?" he taunted as his hands gripped her knees painfully. "I like a little struggle."
Shea's blue eye met the man's brown-eyed gaze, intent for him to understand she meant to kill him. With a groan and a heave, the woman used Charlie's shoulders as leverage. After a stressful second the duct tape pulled free of the hook, sending Shea lurching forward into the man as her weight fell fully to his shoulder's again. He stumbled backwards as the mercenary continued the pressure on his neck. They collided with the metal table. Charlie fell backwards on the steel, pinning both Shea's legs painfully behind him. Her two hands, still bound at the wrist, found the shining knife she had noticed when she first awoke.
Charlie caught her wrists as she attempted to plunge the Cosmic Knife into his throat, and a struggle ensued. Sweat dripped from Shea's dirty blonde hair, her eye never leaving the man's own panicked gaze. As he freed one hand and stuck the knife into the thigh of the woman on top of him, Shea ignored the sharp pain as she sank the reliably razor-edged blade into the man's neck. Her gurgled and shook beneath her.
Shea pulled the blade free, flipping it backwards and allowing the blade to slice through her duct-tape handcuffs silently. Asshole.
"Alright, Charlie. Times up." Robert's voice called from the other side of the rusty metal door. He knocked on it twice for emphasis. "Finish up, I'm coming in."
A minute later the metal door swung open again, this time with Robert's familiar face emerging into the light of the lantern. "Oh my..." he trailed off. Charlie's body lay on the table, his pocket knife sticking out of his forehead like a flag. Robert instinctively drew his own hunting knife, turning to scan the concrete room. As he spotted Shea standing in the darkest corner, a blast echoed out from the room.
A 10mm round took Robert in the knee, causing him to drop to the cold floor. His hunting knife clattered nosily.
"Looking for me?" Rob wailed in response to her question, holding his bloody knee. Shea's expression remained cold as she stepped slowly into the light. The mercenary was fully clothed again, the N99 pistol held in her right hand. The woman's gaze looked down at Robert from her armored shoulder. Her eye was bloodshot from the spiked Nuka and the jet she had recently inhaled.
"I won't waste my time telling you everywhere you went wrong and how we wound up here, worm, I'm just going to ask you questions and you are going to answer them or lose the other knee, understand?" she growled, showing her teeth.
"Yeah. You just f-y-yes. Don't shoot again." he pleaded.
"I know you fuckers probably ended Eddie, but lucky for you I don't care anymore. I want my briefcase, my money, and my friend. You will take me to them."
"Alright! Okay! But your friend might not be-"
"Then you better hurry, 'cus if he's dead I'm gonna turn this shit-hole into a ghost town. And your lovely bombshell Barbara? I'll string her up like a scarecrow. Understand?" Shea smirked at the coward, her gaze making him look away as he rose. He groaned again as he attempted to keep the weight from his bloody knee, turning back towards the door as the mercenary kept her N99 trained on his back.
"You won't make it out of town, Miss Daluka." he said weakly as he hobbled through the doorway.
"Shut up and move."
As Rusty entered the front door of Michael and Barbara's house, Shea kicked open the back door and shoved the bloody Robert inside. The man stumbled against the kitchen counter, knocking over a chair nosily as he gave a pitiful wail. The mercenary kicked the kitchen table over, just in case Michael or Barbara
"Come on out, Mike and Barb!" The mercenary growled. "Old Robbie here was just telling me where I could my fuckin' money, my briefcase, and my partner." she yelled, pulling the slide to the 10mm pistol in her left hand. Her right hand shook as her head throbbed. Shea had overheard her trade for various household labor in the dark room, and it sickened her. She had been trade for roof work and a case full of canned goods.
"And if I don't see Barbara's ass escorting me to all three within the next sixty seconds, Rob is gonna paint your floor instead of fixin' yer damn roof. And after that, I'm gonna find each and every one of you vulture's and peel you one by one." Robert's wails of fear emphasized the severity of the situation.
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Post by Zelus on Sept 27, 2015 9:43:11 GMT -5
Freezing suddenly as he heard the back door clatter as it was kicked open, Rusty found himself rather cool headed. In a moment, he managed to figure out the situation and knew what he was going to do. Having opted for a more stealthy approach than whoever was in the back, Rusty sucked himself behind a large cabinet that sat in the hall. He peeked out, after hearing movement in the nearby room.
“What in the world…?” Michael’s voice asked, as he ran across the room, opened up something and pulled out what Rusty assumed was a weapon. “Stay here; I’ll see to thi-oh shit what the fuck.” He said in short whispers as he heard Shea’s voice from the kitchen.
Having heard the voice too, Rusty smiled with relief, though given the present situation he knew he couldn’t stay still. They hadn’t even heard him come in the door, as was made clear when Michael appeared on the doorframe, looking around towards the kitchen door. Rusty managed to lean out just enough to see that he was armed with a hunting shotgun. Behind Michael, Barbara appeared, leaning around him, though she seemed to not have a gun of her own. She looked pissed, not scared.
“What has that idiot Rob done…? Did he let her get the drop on him? Michael waste ‘em both.” Barbara told casually pushing Michael on his shoulder. Rusty watched them carefully, his eyebrow rose slowly.
Michael looked back at Barbara and carefully pushed her back. “What? I can’t do that, Rob’s a friend, we’ve known each other for years.” Still speaking in hushed whispers, the two didn’t notice as Rusty moved across the hall. He lined the pistol up with Michael’s chest. In the other hand he carried the blood covered cleaver he’d used to kill Ralph.
“And that friend just allowed a scrawny one eyed bitch to get the drop on him and now she’s threatening to skin us all. If ya won’t, I’ll do it.” She snapped reaching for his gun. Her hand didn’t even get an inch closer to the gun before Michael stepped into the hall.
“Stall her, I’ll circle around the house and get them in the back.” Michael whispered, though Rusty was close enough to hear them now.
Barbara coughed a bit before her face became sickly sweet. “Oh, gosh, I’ll be right there swee-” She didn’t manage to finish talking.
Michael turned to the front door, his gun lazily held by his side. He was about to take a step as Barbara spoke when his eyes locked onto Rusty. “Oh.” He stated plainly, without emotion. Barbara turned at the noise, her eyebrow raised. She was about to speak when suddenly Rusty fired two shots into Michael’s chest. The loud noise from the pistol echoed slightly in the hall, extending the noise. Suddenly Barbara screamed reaching out to grab Michael as coughed up blood, stumbling back against the doorframe. The shotgun still in hand, he managed to move it somewhat in Rusty’s direction, but the kid fired two more shots.
Rusty looked down furiously at Michael’s dying eyes. Once he was sure the guy wasn’t going to move again, he turned his pistol towards Barbara. “Get back. Now.” Rusty ordered, stepping closer to the woman, a foot placed calmly on the barrel of the shotgun, keeping it from moving. Barbara was rather slow to respond, clinging to Michael’s arm. She eventually backed off, her eyes flooding with tears. Rusty kept his pistol on her, though he turned slightly to put his voice towards the kitchen. “Shea, I’m in here. Michael’s down.” His voice was accompanied by the snivelling Barbara who was just sat on the floor a few feet away. “Coast’s clear I think-though the neighbours probably heard the shots… Had no choice, he had a gun.” Rusty’s voice was one of certainty, a sheer look of defiance clear on his face.
It was soon clear that Barbara wasn’t going anywhere, so Rusty threw the cleaver onto the cabinet he’d hid behind. With his now free hand, Rusty leaned over and picked up the hunting shotgun and stuffed the pistol behind his belt. He figured he looked more threatening with a shotgun in his hand than a pistol, so he held it in his hands. “Bring Rob through, I can watch over ‘em why you grab our stuff.” Rusty told, figuring they probably wanted to get out of the place as soon as possible. There was Ralph’s woman, and the old man, who’d been looking after the kids, but beyond that, Rusty doubted there were too many people in this side of the town. Then again Andale was pretty big. Then again, the residents were probably used to screams of pain and the odd gunshot… Maybe no one would come at all… At least not until Ralph was discovered. Still that was no excuse to waste time. Rusty would be more than happy to get his shit and leave, though what they wanted to do with Barbara and Rob, Rusty didn’t exactly know.
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Sept 27, 2015 14:08:48 GMT -5
Gunshots. Then...
“Shea, I’m in here. Michael’s down.” His voice was accompanied by the sniveling Barbara who was just sat on the floor a few feet away. “Coast’s clear I think-though the neighbours probably heard the shots… Had no choice, he had a gun.” Rusty’s voice was one of certainty.
It was soon clear that Barbara wasn’t going anywhere, so Rusty threw the cleaver onto the cabinet he’d hid behind. With his now free hand, Rusty leaned over and picked up the hunting shotgun and stuffed the pistol behind his belt. He figured he looked more threatening with a shotgun in his hand than a pistol, so he held it in his hands. “Bring Rob through, I can watch over ‘em why you grab our stuff."
Shea grinned at he sound of Rusty's voice, and the sound of a controlled situation. He was getting better. The mercenary walked across the kitchen and kicked the table away from her. Approaching Robert quickly, she delivered a heavy boot to the whimpering man's ribs.
"Get in the living room." she snarled, waving the N99 beside his face. Robert hobbled down the hallway, leading Shea to Rusty and Barbara. The man groaned as he sat down in Michael's chair, his left knee badly injured by the bullet wound.
"Nice work, Kidd. Couldn't have planned that little rope-a-dope better myself." Shea said quietly while delivering another swift kick to Rob's injured knee. He wailed like a child before the threat of another bullet quieted him down. "Be right back, and try not to shoot Barb if you can help it. She's got some explaining to do."
The mercenary returned a moment later, fully equipped and a little pale. The buffout she had chomped while in the horror room left her feeling fully recovered and oddly violent. Charlie's blood stained her neck and forearms, but the woman didn't seem to notice or care. On her back was the DKS rifle, her gear, the briefcase, and another small pack. In her hand was a pair of glasses, a blood spatter long dried on the lens.
"Barbara, you killed Eddie. Far as that goes, I'm just glad you kept our caps safe." Shea said as she stood beside Rusty ominously, allowing him some relief from holding the two cannibals at bay. The one-eyed woman showed the glasses to Rusty quickly before throwing them at the woman.
"The trophies. The people you've killed and helped kill. You've got some sick shit in that room, Barbie... and I'm not one to judge. But where you fucked up? You tried to get us butchered us like fuckin' brahmin. Isn't that right, Rob!? Barb!?"
"Yes!" Robert replied, cowering from the two mercenaries looming over himself on the chair and Barbara on the floor.
"They were gonna carve us, Kidd. They knocked us out, stole everything we had, and they we're gonna serve us up as a Sunday dinner. ...Here, I'll give you the rest of your cut later." Shea added, using her free hand to give Rusty a heavy leather pouch with an ancient zipper. It was clear by the blood stains that the previous owner would not lonfer be needing the items or caps. Shea aimed her 10mm at Barbara once again.
"This kind of people, Kidd? Parasites." Shea's voice had taken a gravely, dry tone. "The lowest breed of human..." the gun began to shake in the mercenary's hand, but her face remained cold. "We gotta go, Barb. It's been fun. G-"
"Michael! Barbara! Everything alright!?" a voice called from the front porch, his boots stepping quickly across the wood. "Vicky n' me heard an awful lot of lot of shots!" the man burst into the broken doorway.
Shea fired the N99 three times, hitting the stranger in the chest. The man went down, dropping his shotgun onto the stained carpet. Robert lunged for the shotgun. With a twist of the weapon, Shea fired two more rounds. Smoke rolled lazily from the barrel of the 10mm pistol.
Shea loaded a fresh clip into the magazine, smiling at Barbara's horrified expression.
"Shoot her or let her live, your choice." the mercenary said to her partner while picking up the break-action shotgun. "...either way we're leaving. We got what we came for." She finished as she began walking towards the front door. The mercenary gave Barbara one last look of disgust as she exited the home.
WIP WIP
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Post by Zelus on Sept 28, 2015 9:58:55 GMT -5
“It’s good to see ya Shea. Thought these assholes had offed ya…” He told flatly as he stepped aside to allow Rob to go past him. He casually looked over at Robb’s knee, with something of a snort. “Oh. I assume that’s your handy work, huh?” Rusty asked Shea as he turned back to look at Barbara as she moved to lean against the couch.
By now Barbara’s makeup had become smudged, though she now looked at Robert with an angry almost murderous glare. She seemed to blame him entirely for their current predicament. Occassionally she’d look at Rusty, and then at Shea, though she couldn’t bear to bring herself to look at the corpse of Michael laid in the hall.
“Thanks…” Rusty told, receiving praise for his actions. He shrugged a bit. “Given all the racket you made, they didn’t even hear me come in the door.” He snorted checking the shotgun over to make sure it was loaded. He eyed Shea as she kicked Robert’s knee, wondering just how it had happened. He imagined it was probably much like what happened with him and Ralph. “I’ll try not to… but she’s made it real hard not want to shoot her.” He snapped, looking over in her direction. “Though I’ll keep my trigger finger loose,” Rusty added with a shrug.
With that said, Shea vanished off to look for their stuff. Casually Rusty moved to sit on the edge of the side table. He watched as Rob held onto his leg in a useless attempt to stop the bleeding. Barbara on the other hand was wiping her eyes with the top of her wrist. Whilst he was waiting for Shea, Rusty said not a word. He just kept his eye moving between the two.
When Shea finally returned, he looked her over, noticing the blood on her neck for the first time. He too was similarly caked with the blood of his foe, though Ralph’s blood was over his hands, forearm and side. Noticing she had grabbed her gear, Rusty turned to look at them. “Hey uh, bear with me a sec Shea, gonna take this moment to grab my stuff.” He told before Shea began to speak. Light on his feet, Rusty ran off through the house, up the stairs. It didn’t take him long to find their trophy room.
Though he gave the room a quick look over, he decided to just grab his bags and load him up, electing to not go rooting. Chances are he didn’t even want to know what half the stuff was. He was thankful when he saw his stuff again, grabbing the bag by the straps and carrying it in hand, so he could just drop it on the floor whilst they decided what to do.
A couple of minutes later, Rusty was back in the living room with Shea; he dropped his bag down by the doorway and stood next to Shea. The moment he was back, Shea spoke to Barbara about Eddie’s caps… or rather their caps, he supposed. Looking down casually at the glasses, Rusty figured that he probably should’ve felt bad for the guy… But then again, he wanted the slave collar. Rusty sighed at the conflicted feelings. At least he wasn’t fucking eating people, Rusty thought.
Barbara flinched somewhat as the glasses were thrown at her. She looked up helplessly at Shea, though she snapped a look at Rob as he cowered before them. There was a tinge of disgust on her face.
“Oh… I know.” Rusty shuddered at her words. “Ralph was marking me up.” He told, pulling the sleeve up on his left arm to show dotted lines on the meatier underside of his forearm. Rusty quietly took the leather pouch from Shea and stuffed it quietly into his satchel. “Oh, thanks.” He told with something of a smile. The pouch was nice, with a zipper too, that wasn’t something you saw every day, once it was cleaned up be could’ve probably sold it, or kept it. Then again, with his satchel, bandolier and backpack, he didn’t exactly have a need of another bag. He shrugged lightly.
Listening to what Shea said next, Rusty nodded in agreement. They really were the lowest breed, weak too. They didn’t even bother overcoming the struggle like many others in the wasteland, instead they decided to take the easy way and kill people through kindness. The thought of it disgusted him no end, though he was too pissed to actually be sick. As he stood there, all he could think was how they were lower than even raiders.
When Shea began to wrap up their conversation, there was suddenly a sound from outside. Rusty turned slightly, pulling up the shotgun. He’d been about to blast the guy, when Shea took the opportunity and shot the guy dead. The guy fell down over Michael and his shotgun clattered to the floor. Robert like the idiot he so obviously was, decided to go after the gun. Shea gunned him down too, so Rusty turned his gun on Barbara to make sure she didn’t get any ideas. She seemingly didn’t, instead she just looked panicked, now alone in the room. She drew her legs up to her chest, and made herself into the smallest target possible.
Rusty glanced over at Shea as she gave him the choice to kill Barbara or let her live. He was quiet for a moment, staring at the woman. There was no look of indecision on his face; he had long since decided what to do with her. As Shea moved to leave, Rusty pulled out Ralph’s pistol from his belt. With a quick walk over to her, Rusty stared down at her. She gasped a bit as she saw the pistol, uttered the word “no” as he moved the pistol up against her head and ended it.
“Time to leave,” he spoke, stowing the pistol back on his belt with the safety on. He then casually walked over to his bag and lifted it onto his back. Once he adjusted his assault rifle onto his shoulder to sit neatly against the bag, he followed Shea out into the wasteland. Rusty carried the hunting shotgun in his hand, breathing out a sigh of relief as they got out the door. He was glad it was all over. With one last look down the empty street, he let Shea lead the way.
Thankfully, there was a road that led directly south west, in the direction they were going. Once they were sufficiently away from Andale, Rusty turned to look at Shea. “That… was some fucked up shit. I thought the day before was fucked up, but that… Holy shit.” He breathed with a sigh. “So… We’re just gonna go to Hawking Hills and figure out what to do from there, huh?” He told as he looked around.
The sun was now far below the horizon, and the moon was rising steadily. Rusty hadn’t noticed how dark it had gotten until they were well at least an hour away from Andale. “Uhm… Perhaps we should make camp for the night, either that or we can find some place to hold up along the road?” He asked knowing there would probably be a gas station or something along the way.
After leaving Andale, the ruins had fallen away from them. Now they were following an old country road, which was scarcely there in places. Ahead of them looked a large partially burned out farmstead. “Oh huh… maybe that’ll do.” He told pointing carefully at the small house accompanying a broken barn. An old wooden fence surrounded the property, with barbed wire covering the two horizontal beams. Rusty shivered somewhat as a gust of wind blew. All around everything was next to pitch black; the only light was from the moon high above. As Rusty walked over the fallen gate he stepped onto the dirt path that led up to the house. He looked quietly at an old pickup truck that sat in front of the barn. It was dirty and rusted from exposure, though the glass in the windows only had a single crack or two. He looked slowly over at the barn behind it. Two of the barn walls had been blown in, presumably from the bombs, and the other two walls were precariously held up by two suffering beams. Rusty moved on, stomping over to the house, a small bungalow with an empty porch. Rusty quietly walked up to the door and pulled open the storm door and then he quietly tested the door and pushed it open. Rusty almost leapt out of his skin as a small bell rang out through the empty house.
“Oh shit.” Rusty hissed quietly as his feet found a dusty old carpet. He calmed himself down as nothing happened. No one came running or nothing snarled. Everything was just silent, besides him and Shea. Rusty quietly pulled out his railway lantern and turned it on, revealing the room. A big couch occupied most of the room, with a rocking chair off to one side. Against the back wall sat a huge ornament cabinet, though everything inside had fallen and smashed when the shelves inside had fallen at some point in the past two hundred years. Like with most houses, a television sat in the corner on a stand, though it was a far older model than Rusty had ever seen. He pulled off his bag and dropped it on the couch and turned to Shea. “Should be alright for the night, huh?”
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Sept 28, 2015 20:25:25 GMT -5
Arid Hills,
south-west of the Capital Wasteland Rusty chose to end Barbara's life back in Andale. The gunshot had rang out from the beautiful monument to suburbia like a thunderclap. As her boots carried her across the brittle dirt, Shea had smiled like the devil himself. Rusty had finally caught up to her afterwards, remaining silent for a while longer as they traveled. That was alright with the mercenary, she had some things on her mind as well. The longer they walked, the more she mused over it. Shea had let her guard down back there. It irritated her deeply, along with the idea that the entire ordeal may have been her fault for doing so. As usual, the mercenary decided to ignore the thoughts. They continued south-west and, to Shea's dismay, no one from Andale followed. A road emerged from the scorched earth. The pair followed it a the sun began to set. Once they were sufficiently away from Andale, Rusty turned to look at Shea. “That… was some fucked up shit. I thought the day before was fucked up, but that… Holy shit.”
Shea glanced over at Rusty, a smile crept across her blood-speckled face. Swinging the sniper rifle so that it rest up on her pauldron, the heat-stained barrel bounced lazily somewhere far behind her shoulder. Shea-Victoria then chuckled lightly at his comment. "Wus fucked up, alright. Make a great drinking story." The woman's free hand produced a cigarette from her pocket, along with Barbara's zippo. The polished metal gleamed in the dying sunlight. The mercenary lit her cigarette triumphantly before depositing the lighter back in her tattered jacket. As the pair moved down the broken road, the sound of clinking bottle caps followed. . . . As Rusty opened the door of the shack, a bell began to ring. Behind him, Shea rolled her eyes and nudged him forward. When no movement was heard, Rusty began to dig for his lantern and battery. Shea stood in the doorway, one handgun aimed inside the dark shack and the other aimed towards the road. As the latern's glow flashed behind her, Shea holstered the revolver. The mercenary took a long look across the farm, then followed Rusty.
“Should be alright for the night, huh?” "Yeah, it'll do." Shea replied, closing the door behind them. In truth, the farm made her feel vulnerable. Specifically the farmhouse, as small areas made her uneasy and a bit paranoid. Had she been alone, the woman would have likely slept on the porch or the roof so she was aware of anyone approaching outside. S'pose we'll be fine so long as that lantern isn't glowin' too long.
Leaning the rifle carefully against the wooden wall, she then placed her backpack and satchel beside it. Finding the bottle of whiskey, Shea removed the cap and took a swill. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she held the bottle out for Rusty. She wiggled the bottle and smirked. "It's been crazy the last few days, but you've learned well from 'em. Everything we been through, well 'cept maybe Andale, is typical outland shit... so now you know what yer dealin' with." the woman remarked, slowly sitting down indian-style after removing her boots. Of course he didn't know the extent of the toxic wasteland's dark corners yet, but he'd see in time. With a little luck, Shea would be able to lead the young man into hell and back. Using the fallen cabinet as a table, the vagabond pulled out a small duffle and dropped it heavily on the table. The thud it made was metallic. Shea's armored limb swatted the bag softy, sending a pile of caps flooding onto the busted cabinet. She took another swig of whiskey for emphasis. "Six-hundred caps, my payment from Eddie." the mercenary said quietly, looking slightly enamored by the sight. "And, as agreed..." Shea quickly pushed a third of the pile to her companion's side of the cabinet. "...Two-hundred caps fer coming with me to Andale, earned it." Splitting the mirelurk cake in half, the scarred young woman sat the other piece before Rusty. A bottle of Aqua-Pura followed, and she placed it in the center of their "table". Opening her pack, a white and blue box of cereal appeared. Quickly devouring a few handfuls of Sugar Bombs stolen from Barbara's kitchen, she placed it on the cabinet as well. The mercenary picked away at their meal, taking a drink of the water to wash down the Sugar Bombs. Running her fingers through her dirty blond hair, the mercenary appeared deep in thought. Her gaze became blank, lost in a memory. This lasted for several minutes before her companion snapped her out of the daze. "Rusty..." Shea began, obviously having a difficult time finding what she wanted to say. Deciding against the first thought, she defaulted with: "It's been cool havin' you along." she finished, lighting a cigarette. The woman seldom spoke honestly with anyone, reminding herself that any emotion was essentially weakness. She trusted Rusty, but Shea-Victoria didn't trust herself. "Should hit Hawkin' Hills just before sunset tomorrow. That'll be a good night." the mercenary said, leaning back against the couch lazily while smoking the cigarette. Kicking her feet up on the fallen cabinet, Shea leaned her back on the couch closed her eye. The brand on the vagabond's neck was accented by the lantern, shadowing it in a way that the scar appeared fresh again. Smoke rolled up slowly from her fingers, filling the dusty cabin with the smell of burnt tobacco. Taking one last drag without opening her eye, she snuffed out the cigarette on the cabinet. |
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Post by Zelus on Sept 30, 2015 15:48:04 GMT -5
Arid Hills, South-west of the Capital Wasteland The wind picked up just moments after Shea closed the door. With a quiet squeal, the barn outside moved in the darkness. Rusty turned slightly as he heard the noise and shook his head. “So long as that building outside doesn’t suddenly collapse whilst we sleep.” Rusty laughed, walking over to the window and looking up at the curtain rail. He carefully pulled the curtains shut, blocking the light from leaking into the wasteland. Carefully he walked about the living room, checking the place out. When he noticed a latch on the door, he walked over and turned it, locking the door. It wasn’t anything big, but at least it’d slow down anyone trying to get in. At least he hoped so. Giving Shea a grin as she shook her bottle of whiskey at him, Rusty waltzed over to her and took it. After taking a drink, he handed the bottle back and looked around idly. “Mmm… That was pretty good. I could get used to that.” He smirked, as he looked up at the dusty ceiling fan. Giving it a shrug he walked over to a book shelf. He noticed several old dusty books on it and carefully pulled one off and looked through it. “Crazy’s a bit of an uh… understatement,” he grinned a bit at Shea, looking over the letters in the dusty pages of the book. “Hopefully we don’t run into more of the Andale kind of crazy though ‘cause fuck… what even… urgh. Those poor kids.” He grimaced tossing the book on the table. He couldn’t even fathom the impact on the kids he’d seen. Let alone Ralph’s kids. “I uh… killed a guy with a meat cleaver… The guy who bought me I guess. Ralph was his name. After I killed him, I heard his wife talking about his kids.” He frowned somewhat. It wasn’t an entirely remorseful look. He didn’t feel bad about killing Ralph and the other Andale people, but he’d just killed some kid’s dad. Now they were like him almost… then again, at least they still had their mom. Even if she was a cannibal. “Ya think the kids know? That they eat people for dinner…” He asked. The question was more rhetorical than anything else. He had a feeling the kids were about as fucked up as their parents. Rusty slowly sat down across from Shea, on the edge of the couch as he watched her with the caps. With a snicker as he caught her looking over her caps, he gave her an expectant nod. Once he received his caps, he took them and stuffed them in his satchel. “Thanks.” He smiled lightly, before giving her a shake of the head. “Nah, you have it, I’ve got my own food… can’t exactly keep relying on your food.” He told as he reached into his pack and pulled out his lunchbox. Opening it, he pulled out his own mirelurk cake and immediately started to chew on it. Rusty looked in his satchel and smirked lightly as he remembered he was still carrying the bottle of scotch from the metro tunnel. Pulling it out, he popped it on the ‘table’. “Been saving this. Should I keep a hold of it?” He asked, leaving it there for her to decide what to do with it. With a slight stretch, Rusty looked around the house. He wanted to have a look around, but then he turned back to Shea when she spoke to him. “Uh huh?” he asked tilting his head a bit at her, with slight confusion as she started with his name. He smirked broadly at her. “The feeling’s mutual Shea… Or I guess, it’s been cool to accompany you-I mean not guess, it has been-ya know what I mean.” He snorted, shaking his head somewhat at himself. “I look forward to seeing this place you keep talkin’ about.” He grinned getting to his feet. As he noticed Shea closing his eye, he figured she must’ve been tired. He was too somewhat, but he didn’t necessarily feel ready to sleep. Instead he was curious about the rest of the farm house. “Get some sleep; I’ll take the first watch.” He told picking up the lantern and dimming the light as she put out her cigarette. “I won’t be far, just gonna have a look around this place. I’ll try not to make much noise.” |
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Oct 1, 2015 20:04:13 GMT -5
Abandoned Farm,
Capital Wasteland
“Get some sleep; I’ll take the first watch.” He told picking up the lantern and dimming the light as she put out her cigarette. “I won’t be far, just gonna have a look around this place. I’ll try not to make much noise.”
Shea slid up onto the small sofa awkwardly, stretching and wiggling her toes after reaching a comfortable area. "Sure. Careful. We'll see Arc tomorrow, too... maybe get your armor upgraded..." the mercenary trailed off as she was left in the darkness of the cabin. She heard his boots travel lightly off the porch, then opened her eye. The windows of the place, while covered, allowed just enough moonlight through for Shea to see her hand in front of her face.
Rolling onto her side, the mercenary stared at the shadowy outline her DKS rifle formed against the wall. Heavy thoughts would prevent sleep, at least for a few minutes. The woman's thin fingers glided through her own hair, picking away bits of debris and shaking it free of dust. Only the sound of the wind filled her ears. A feeling within her guts had began to trouble Shea. The mercenary knew it wasn't an upset stomach, this was deeper.
Guilt. her mind whispered. But of what? Killing the people in Andale, or in Fairfax? Not at all. The loss of Eddie? Definitely not. Shea had never cared much for the guy since she had met him years back. He was just a hand in which goods exchanged. A bagboy. The troubled feelings were obviously rooted somewhere between Rusty and Holden. Never much of a introspective thinker, she grunted angrily. As her mind wandered too close to the truth, the woman sat straight up on the couch. Snatching the bottle Rusty had left and taking a defiant chug of it's contents, Shea-Victoria refused to look any further inward.
Another swill followed, then another cigarette. The lighter cast and orange hue over the interior before closing with a snap. The burning cherry at the end of the tobacco illuminated only her face and torso briefly, fading back into darkness as her lips withdrew from the filter. Remember who you are.
As Rusty checked out the property and finally made his way around the battered barn, he spotted a creature sitting alongside the building's western wall. It's blinking eyes reflected a brilliant shine back at Rusty in the lantern's light. Large, soul-piercing, seemingly luminescent eyes. It was difficult to make out the creature's features in the dim light, but it was clear the monster was very large. Most of the creature was fur-less, except it's shin and lower nape, with tanned and sun-dried skin. A couple areas were torn open, exposing coagulant coated muscle. Long, obsidian claws rested in the dirt.
The beast regarded Rusty with little interest until the human moved, the lantern swaying and causing light to dance across the resting brute. It could sense his fear easily using it's black snout, the human's own body chemistry working against him. Long fangs and jagged teeth shone briefly, saliva dripping from a curled lip. The glowing eyes fixed on the young man. The mutant-thing rose quickly on it's hind legs, towering above Rusty like a monster in a nightmare. It's jowls pulled up and it's jaws opened disturbing wide, easily enough to crush a human skull or ribcage.
A primal bellow rolled across the farmland, the battlecry of the yao-guai.
WIp
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Post by Zelus on Oct 2, 2015 16:06:01 GMT -5
Abandoned Farm,
Capital Wasteland Quietly and tentatively, Rusty examined the outer walls of the house, setting up something of a patrol. The chilly air made him shiver as he walked. It had given him time to have a think over the past few days, though mostly what had happened over the last day. He’d shot three people dead. Ralph, Michael and Barbara, he’d remember their names, for they would probably be the people he’d base the bad guys off in the future within his mind. They were the first people he had witnessed doing something bad, and knew enough about them to remember their names. He’d seen raiders before. None had ever said their names; in fact he wasn’t entirely sure raiders had names until Big Ben. Rusty thought on that guy too… and the other raiders of Fairfax. They were supposed to have a meeting weren’t they? How would that meeting go now? They had seen the group previously that day and they were all battered and bloody from a battle. They were to meet Big Ben’s buddies, who had lost a good chunk of their buddies to Shea and Rusty. It was bound to put the group at odds. Rusty stopped walking in thought. Wait a second. If those guys walked into that meeting full of gunshot wounds, and Big Ben’s group was missing folks. Rusty’s mind raced at the idea. Did they just inadvertently cause two raider groups to fight? Rusty would have to pay attention to the radio in the future. The idea made him grin a bit. Walking around the back of the farm, Rusty stopped and turned to look at the wasteland, and the large field. He couldn’t see much, though he could see the dark silhouette of the horizon beneath the dark blue sky and shining stars. Hunting shotgun in hand, he rested it against his forearm. He supposed the sky was one of the few things that changed when the bombs dropped. Well, that was besides all the radstorms and whatnot. They were probably due for one sooner or later, Rusty thought as he looked up at the clear sky. What would they do if they were caught out in it? At least back home, he could’ve just stayed in, protected with a roof over his head. But now he didn’t have a constant roof. Instead he was vulnerable. With a frown at the thought, he decided to turn and press on with his patrol. Coming around the side of the house, Rusty came to see the broken and battered barn. He looked up at it’s flimsy exterior. At any moment it could come crashing down. He gave it the briefest of looks before he noticed something dark and large sitting next to the building. With a wide eye, Rusty stepped back. “The fuck is that…?” Rusty whispered holding his light up to get a better look. Rusty had a feeling he was in some deep shit. He gulped slightly as he went to move back away from it. “Uh nice… uh.. whatever you are… just… go back to sleep everything’s just…” He whispered, knowing it was foolish to try and pacify such a creature, though the attempt helped him focus. At least, he thought it did. With its eyes on him, Rusty knew it was time to fight or run. Knowing that in the darkness even with the lantern in hand, he probably couldn’t get very far. He wouldn’t be as fast as the beast, but if it got close it’d probably either tear his face off with its claws or just simply bite it off. Rusty breathed in deep. He was almost happy when the thing rose onto its hind legs rather than coming running at him. It left the creature exposed to an attack, so Rusty did the first thing that came to mind. Suddenly, Rusty aimed the shotgun down. Aiming between the yao-guai’s hind legs, he quickly fired. He spared no thought to the sound, due to it’s bellowing. He just fired into the bear’s lower regions, taking another shot immediately after. Within his chest, Rusty’s heart pounded heavily, quickening his breath. Though he was shaky, Rusty stood his ground. Two shots were gone, he counted, three more left. He didn’t even wait to check whether he’d actually hit, the lantern swinging clumsily about in Rusty’s grip. Rusty followed up the first two shots with two more in quick succession, keeping one back just in case. “Gah, fuck.” He told, waving the lantern over the area to try and identify the damage. |
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Oct 2, 2015 17:56:49 GMT -5
Shea had been sitting on the sofa, still bathed in darkness as she put the cigarette out in the same place as the previous one. Leaning her head back and looking to the ceiling of the house, she sighed. So close to Hawkin' now. Get some sleep. She thought over again, attempting to reason with er body. Then it was heard. The roar of the yao guai.
Rusty.
Shotgun blasts followed. The mercenary sprang from the couch and snatched her boots, running into the wall as she pulled them on while attempting to maintain her balance. The woman snatched her rifle from the wall, checked it, and grasped the door handle when the second two shots were heard.
The first two shotgun shells had sent a barrage of buckshot into the monster's groin and inner thigh, respectively. Echoes of the blasts mixed with a loud snort. The mutant dropped down on all fours quickly, the ground carrying the sounds up Rusty's boots. The yao-guai sprang forward and closed the distance in a mere second, seemingly unaware of the blood dripping from it's lower region. Rusty's second two rounds popped off quickly, one catching a shoulder and the other shell tearing the mutant bear's cheek and neck flesh away.
Stunned by the point-blank blast of buckshot, it's teeth snapped shut just shy of Rusty's arm. The beast's momentum crashed into the human shoulder-first, send both of them tumbling out from behind the barn as it rolled beside him awkwardly and grunted. The lantern skipped off the dirt and rolled against the ancient structure.
The creature swung a massive paw outward from it's position in the dirt, the claws sailing off-target in an attempt to disembowel him. Instead they raked lightly across the human's upper chest and shoulder, with the small claw nicking the young man's ear. Enraged by Rusty's shells and it's own failed attempts to significantly harm him, a bellowing growl escaped the beast's maw as it found it's footing quickly. The eye's glowed furiously in the darkness, reflecting the unmistakable intent to kill.
Boom.
A flash of light was seen from before the farmhouse, a gaping hole appearing suddenly in the left side of the beast's neck. The force of the bullet, which did not exit the other side, jerked the monster's head violently to the right and caused it's left arm to instinctively go limp and drop the damaged lower neck towars the ground. Air escaped the hole, along with frothing blood and bubbles. Shea's .308 round had come to a stop somewhere on the other side of the neck muscle, damaging the windpipe in the process. When the mutant attempted another roar of outrage, the sound faltered as frothy blood fell to the dirt. This all took place quickly as Rusy found his feet in the darkness.
It was instantly possessed by a new-found, berserkers rage. The second .308 round caught the thing in it's hip, rocking the mutant's rear end. The yao-guai sprang again off it's good leg, opening it's jaws wide as it met Rusty again.
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Post by Zelus on Oct 3, 2015 13:26:47 GMT -5
Rusty hissed with frustration and fear as he came to the realisation that four shots hadn’t been enough to take the beast down. He backed off as much as he could, though by that point he was already far too close. The shots had stunned the beast though, albeit temporarily. It didn’t stop the thing though and soon the yao-guai collided with him, instantly knocking Rusty back through the sheer weight of the thing. It was like being hit by a truck. The lantern, which had been held up loosely by Rusty’s thumb and finger, was sent flying. Plunged into complete darkness, Rusty found himself on the ground in the dirt and dust.
Quickly, the kid rolled onto his back and pushed his way to get some distance on the beast. His shotgun in hand only had one bullet left. If he was going to use it, he’d have to pretty much stick it in the beast’s mouth to have any real effect.
As the yao-guai scratched a claw across his chest, Rusty yelped. Though, he was immediately thankful for the thick leather coat he had bought in Rivet City. He wasn’t bleeding, at least not badly. His ear had been nicked however, and it stung somewhat as it bled. Grimacing as the beast snarled and growled. He could smell the beast now, the smell repulsed him, but there was no getting away from it. He quickly turned on his hands and knees and pushed himself off the ground.
It was then that he heard the unmistakable sound of Shea’s gun going off. He’d almost screamed in fright, almost believing the bullet had been meant for him. Panicked, he whirled around, to run at the house. As he did so, his ankle roared with pain. Rusty, had he not’ve been desperate, pushed himself on, though he limped. Rusty turned rapidly as he heard the thing moving behind him, he quickly pulled his shotgun up and aimed. He could feel the cold hair on his exposed chest. His torn coat with a large claw mark across it exposed much of his skin. If he was to receive another swipe, he guessed it’d be bad. He could only hope his last shot and whatever Shea was willing to fire at it was good enough. He pulled the shotgun up in hope, aimed it at the shadowy mass in front of him and fired. Rusty found the beast on him suddenly. Whilst he had hit it rather square on, the momentum it had mustered had brought the thing ontop of him. Rusty fell back against the wooden wall of the house, his arm elbowing the side window and shattering the glass that had stayed in their frames for two centuries. Rusty hit the back of his head rather roughly on the windowsill, leaving him dazed as the Yao-guai was over him. Rusty quickly felt his jacket for his pocket and quickly pulled out his switchblade. Flicking it open he reached up and stabbed at the beast with the rusty blade.
Soon became clear to Rusty that the thing was dead and had been since he’d shot it in the face with the shotgun. It lay against the side of the house, with it’s blood leaking down over him. Panting, Rusty slowly pulled himself out from under the yao-guai. His hands needing to drag himself a long as the weight of the beast had pinned his legs. Covered in blood from the chest down, he looked around to find his lantern. He couldn’t. Hell he’d lost the shotgun in the fall. Gripping his head in pain he gave a slight hiss. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet though it was clear his ankle was hurting him more now. “F-Fuck me.” Rusty snapped as he limped towards the house. He gave Shea a look, his expression melded into a mix of shame, pain and confusion. “I… I don’t even know what happened.” Rusty told, his head still ringing. “I uh- I need to sit down.” He told, as he moved towards the door and pushed it open quickly. Not waiting for her, Rusty limped over to the couch and practically fell into it. He quickly reached up to his chest and put his left hand through the holes made by the beast. Once he was sure he’d felt around slightly, he pulled his hand up and held it in front of him, checking for blood. When he was satisfied that he had, in fact been protected from the claw, he sighed with relief.
Whilst he sat there his eye caught glimpse of the bottle of scotch sat in front of him. Slowly, and in pain, he reached forward and grabbed the bottle. Throwing off the lid, he took a long drink, though not before almost choking on the taste as it went down.
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Oct 5, 2015 19:24:44 GMT -5
Abandonded Farm, South of the Capital Wasteland "Shit." Shea spat as she jogged over to the scene, throwing the rifle over her shoulder on it's sling as she crouched down. "How bad are ya hurt?" the young woman asked, placing a boot on the side of creatures mangle head in an attempt to push some of the weight off the young man. With more than a little effort and a mighty grunt, Shea helped Rusty escape the warm corpse. Either Rusty's pride or his lingering adrenaline did not appear to want the woman's help back inside the home. She understood better than most. Shea-Victoria looked him over, the young man still trying to grasp what had just happened to him. Shouldn't have let him scout on his own. Stupid of me. Doesn't know tha Outlands yet. The wind had kicked up once again, causing a few looses shingles to hop noisily on the roof. “F-Fuck me.” Rusty snapped as he limped towards the house. He gave Shea a look, his expression melded into a mix of shame, pain and confusion. “I… I don’t even know what happened.” Rusty told, his head still ringing. “I uh- I need to sit down.”
"Yeah, you should." she agreed, looking over her shoulder to hide a thin smile. When her scan of the outside was finished, the mercenary followed Rusty inside and placed the Quantum on the makeshift table. It granted only a small, neon-blue glow, which was still better than nothing. Watching him chug more of the alcohol, she quickly pulled the N99 from her back and left the house for a moment. When she returned the lantern and his shotgun were placed on the table as well. "Remnants from the Old World. Yao-Guai. Lucky that one was alone." Shea explained flatly while sitting beside him on the sofa. She gave him a good looking-over. The woman then kicked off her boots and took his bloody ear in her ungloved hand. "Hold still." The alcohol from the bottle was drizzled on the bloody notch in his ear. It caused the ear to bleed again. "Who knows were it's claws have been..." the mercenary continued absently, releasing Rusty's earlobe. "That notch adds some character." Shea-Victoria said. If Rusty waited for a sign of amusement, none came. It had been an honest statement. "Nothin' broken?" The blond woman pushed her hand under his armor, her fingers cool to the touch. They felt along his ribs and his chest, searching for signs of lacerations or a reaction from pressure on fractured ribs. Lightly grazed him. 'Barley's' more like it. Satisfied with his ribs, the mercenary removed her hand from under his armor and sat back against the arm of the sofa, watching him quietly with her single blue eye. He was a little beaten, no doubt soon to be bruised, but without any mortal injury. "Try to get some sleep." Shea rose from the couch, retrieved her rifle, and exited the house quietly. morning "Giddyup, Buttercup." the woman said, rousing Rusty from his slumber on the sofa with her usual boot-nudge. Buttercup? The phrase had been in her head, though the mercenary could not remember where she had ever heard it before. Weird. Was it from her childhood? Psh. Not likely. Where had she heard it, then? Climbing over the arm of the couch, she forced Rusty to sit up as the vagabond slid down onto the ancient cushion. In her left hand was a cigarette. In her right, the whiskey. Her arms were coated with dried blood, but the vagabond looked unharmed. A bag sat alone by the door, stuffed with something that was leaving a small blood spot around the fabric. "You slept like a rock. ...Prob-ly five hours from here to Hawkin'." the mercenary said before taking a swig of her dwindling bottle. "And with yer ankle, now we're going to take our time." Shea continued, producing a Med-X. She hit him directly in the leg, ensuring most of the chem was absorbed in that limb. She gave him an apologetic glance, but it wasn't as sincere as she had been going for.
"It'll help with the twist and the aches your gonna have from last night. You practically duked it out with the damn thing. Shit was nuts. ...When we met, I did say you had tha balls of a yao-guai. Now you know what kinda balls those are, eh?" she said with a smirk. She made light of the situation as best she could, but behind the impressive facade bubbled frustration. She needed Rusty in top shape for the next part of their journey, and her own lack of attention had compromised that. The scarred mercenary then stood up, stretching as smoke rolled from the burning cigarette. It seemed to defy gravity, handing on her lower lip by some unknown act in physics. Six days. Thais how long we'ved been traveling together. Most of the journey had been good nights, so Shea looked tired, but not completely beat. She had been able to catch a nap for more than an hour in the early morning twilight, and that had helped. "Let's get movin'. Sun's been up for an hour or so." They moved at a casual pace, with Shea inevitably explaining the mechanics behind bullets dropping from gravity, what rounds were best against what kind of targets, what thickness of armor would stop which rounds, and other musings on all things firearms. The idea of rifling, how shotgun shells worked, the difference between .38 special and .357, and more. "...And then there's your hand-to-hand skills. You an' me got some training to do. I like your instincts, but some day you'll end up facing an enemy without a weapon... So you need to learn some grapples, some throws, and how to break bones. You'll thank me later." she said smugly, giving him a little smirk. With Rusty's size and power, he would very likely surpass her own skills in melee combat down the road, and the idea pleased the mercenary. They made their way across a dry hill, passing the skeletons of dead trees and only the most stubborn of weeds and shrubs. Shea produced the DKS, took a knee, and surveyed the horizon through her scope. The wind howled again, coating the pair in more wasteland dust. "I can see the river." The Occoquan. It was a mighty river, reminding Shea of the darker and faster Ohio. Dark. Deep. Suffocating. The memories were unkind. Upstream and untouched from Project Purity, the moving water was still irradiated to the point that it looked sickly as it churned and flowed. The bridge that stretched before the mercenary and her companion was weathered, cracked, and littered with rotting vehicles. Some of them had been pushed into the river in an attempt to relieved the structure from excess weight. Another heavy wind kicked up, blowing the pair's clothing and hair into furious fits before calming moments later. When it lulled, the sound of rushing water greeted them again. Automatic gunfire echoed from across the river as well. The air was considerably more humid, and the sun seemed considerably hotter as well. They continued to stand in the sun, assaulted by a few more windy assaults. It smelled tainted. Unclean. Another moment of silence pass ed. The woman spoke, her voice low and serious.
"Once we cross this bridge, you stay by my side unless I tell you otherwise. Do not draw your weapon unless I do. Do not speak to anyone I am not speaking with. We need to get this case unloaded before doing anything else. Straight for the mall. There's an entrance facing the south, a machine shop. The man who runs the place is odd, but he's our best chance to get rid of the case quickly and painlessly. After that we can ged rid of the loot, restock, and head to Annies. That's the plan."
Hopefully. After lighting a cigarette, Shea and Rusty began to cross the battered bridge to the ruined city.
Hawking Hills, Virginia Wasteland They found the inner city as the sun sank behind the ruins to their west. There no gates to close off the city. The mercenary spoke as they descended a broke street that rolled behind the ruins and to the center of the settlement. "Snipers across the tall ruins. Mostly there to keep and eye out for incoming groups, make sure the streets dont get too out of hand, and just general guard duty. Not that any raiders or even Talon Co. have been stupid 'nuff to try and take Hawkin'. Too many big guns and short tempers here. An assualt on Hawkin' is close to a suicide mission for anyone other than the Brotherhood, and those pricks dont come this far south." Shea explained as they began to pass ruins that were now inhabited. Gunfire echoed from somewhere up ahead. "You get yourself a rifle like this," the vagabond nodded to the DKS-501 on her back, "...learn to shoot it good, and then you can make good money workin' sniper contracts guarding this place. Pretty boring, though." she rambled as they turned a corner. "Get better at close quarters fighting and guard contracts pull in decent caps around here. Doormen. Escorts. Guards for the shops in the mall."
The Boulevard, as the main street had been called in the Old World, was their destination. The structures had weathered the apocalypse better than most of D.C.. Lanterns made from debris adorned the surrounding ruins, a few of them burning already as the sun set. The vehicles and debris had been cleared. As Shea and Rusty passed a small building with a leaning balcony they were watched. A man followed their progress through thick goggles, his concealed under a duty bandanna. Rusty then crossed boundaries into the chaos that was Hawking Hills awakening at sunset. On another rooftop nearby three men conversed loudly about a particularly hilarious incident that happened in their collective past. Torches began to appear, the precious electricity all consumed by the mall's vast structure and a few of the businesses along the Boulevard. Several brahmin loaded with crates and sacks stood quietly before a parking garage. It was currently being used as a stable and camp for caravaneers. The further they moved down the Boulevard, the more crowded it became. In the distance stood the former Mount Pleasant Shopping Mall, but the tallest ruin along the strip of asphalt was once a classy apartment building. Shea nodded towards it as they walked, lighting a cigarette as they passed the vertical structure. "Elwood Terrace. Ground floor is where you find higher paying contracts, rescue contracts, bounties, and all that jazz. Gives ya a chance to really see what kind of different jobs pay. Then tha upper floors are apartments fer rent. Kinda pricey, but there's a good bit of mercs, traders, and working girls who live there." she explained as her eye glanced to Rusty, then back to the road ahead. Light spilled out from the rising windows of the Terrace, the beams brightening slowly as the sky darkened. A man was literally thrown out the front doors, rolling painfully down the stairs before colliding into the legs of another armored wastelander. "Get off me." the armored man said angrily, kicking the man away before resuming his own conversation. The woman he was talking with seemed awfully close to him, her clothes consisting of underwear and a strange, self-made, ass exposing dress with boots. The guy slapped her ass, and she gave a fake laugh. A man leaned against an old, his trench coat stained with dust and blood. He said nothing, only opening the coat as Shea and Rusty passed by. Inside the coat hung various shiny oddities from the Old World. Watches, jewelry, a water bottle, and other scavenged items had been hooked to the inside of the jacket. Most of the items were covered in blood. Something seemed odd about the man, almost as if he was struggling to keep still. "Nuh." Shea said to him loudly, keeping her eye trained ahead towards the mall. The guy closed his coat and resumed his haunting of the corner. "Hey-hey, hey, hey!". A haggard man popped out of a side-alley, his sweater ragged and stained. The guy's hair was long and oily, and his hands trembled as he approached Shea. "Deeyu have some blasts? I need a blast. Or some caps, baby. You, you got some, you-" "Get tha fuck back!" Shea spat, the N99 drawn and in his face nearly instantly. If the man had doubted her threat, the look in here eye convinced him quickly. "Yo. Yes!" he yipped, tripping and falling onto the broken sidewalk with the grace of a three-legged-mole rat. As Shea and Rusty moved on, he junkie eventually found his feet and continued the quest for Jet. "Dayum fuckas holdin' out on..." he mumbled as he entered another ruin. Shea and Rusty then began walking the stretch to the mall. Shouts could be heard from various structures along the strip as they passed. Sounds of a piano escaped from one ruin. Sounds of a brawl from another. Passing a dust-covered tent, sounds of erotic pleasures escaped into the street. A red lantern hung from outside the tent, swaying with either the wind or the activity inside. A stray dog scampered across the street, a stolen chunk of brahmin steak flapping from it's jowls. The balding creature disappeared under a leaning semi-trailer just before some man with a 10mm pistol appeared. "Where'd that mutt go!?" he growled, his gaze focusing on two street urchins and then Shea and Rusty. As the pair walked the broken street, Shea nonchalantly pointed back to the tent with the red lantern. The man with the pistol took off behind them, obviously obsessed with retrieving his stolen steak. When the man rushed into the tent, a scream was heard. This one was of surprise, not ecstasy. Some kind of fight seemed to break out noisily inside the canvas tent, with Shea chuckling as she and Rusty began crossing the mall parking lot. Shea gave Rusty a nod when she noticed his reaction. "He was gonna shoot it." the mercenary explained, attempting to sound neutral. Why did I do that? she thought as the continued on through the boisterous street. The mall was surprisingly intact, with he escaping noise and light alone a testament to it's inner population. The sun glow had all but disappeared, blanketing the massive structure in the light of it's parking lot lam posts. Various lanterns and stings of lights hung from all corners and signs, attaching to the other buildings. The glow of the Mt. Pleasant Mall was almost beautiful. If you like that kinda crap. Shea thought, attempting to smother her own admiration and remain focused on the task at hand. A circle of mercenaries occupied themselves with drinking and laughing under on of the parking lamps. Beside them lay a fresh corpse. "This way, around the side. The machine shop works on armor and weapons, and he buys and sells all sort of Old World tech in addition to the gear and guns. He's flighty, and if you're not careful he'll fuck you on his prices, but the guy has a way of finding great stuff. I had him make this armor, actually." Shea-Victoria said quietly, nodding to her steel shoulder pauldron and armored right arm. They entered the open bay doors of the machine shop, the asphalt glowing with the light from within. The sound of a grinder echoed inside with the sparking and hissing of an arc-welder. "Arc Belsway!" She said as they stood in the center of the working bay. The man with the arcwelder flipped his helmet up on top of his eye, the machinists brown eyes adjusting to the new light. Placing the heavy tool down on a steel table, he dropped his heavy lead apron onto the floor. The machine shop was lined with equipment. The tall man with the mask on his head removed a glove, stuck two dirty fingers in his mouth, and then whistled loudly. His employee, who had been using the grinder, quickly turned the machine off and exited the bay. "Fox." he said, smearing the grime across his face in an attempt to rid himself of sweat. "I see your still alive. Annie should have named you after a cat, instead. A bitch like you doesn't make friends, so who's the slave?" "He ain't no fuckin' slave." she spat, a darkness possessing her face despite the glow of the amber bulbs above them. It made her blond hair glow in the atrificial light, turning the dirty locks darkened gold. Occasionally the subject of slavery still hit a nerve, a reaction the mercenary had never been able to subdue over the years. The hidden guard near the door took a single step towards Shea, who's hand found the grip of the N99 instantly. "Yeah, alright, I forgot, relax, Jesus. Calmdown, dammit. Joe, you relax. She's cool. ...Alright, you're comrade? Is he a vaulty or somthing? Cus he looks-" "A merc I met in the Capital. We teamed up against some super mutants, an he decided to stick it out. He's level, Arc. Kinda smart, even... Killed a yao-guai by himself, with a shotgun." The mercenary replied as she calmed down, her eye drinking in the various weapons and equipment lining the room. A sentry turret slumbered in the corner, something the machinist had added since her last visit. "...So if you're done askin' stupid questions, we wanna barter." "An all-about-the-business kinda bitch and a monster bashin' dude. That's what I like about you, Fox. You two are alright..." he said, walking behind the counter and pressing a button. Several doors and cabinets swung open, revealing more tech, energy weapons, firearms, and like-wise exotic merchandise. His attitude quickly changed. Money to be gained had a way of doing that to people. "Tha specials this week are: An eyebot helmet! Impress the other mercs by knowing your helmet is bulletproof, and makes you look like an astronaught! Not concussion-proof, however." The gear-head added with a odd titter. His salesmanship had obviously returned "A hundred caps, what a bargain, eh?" The man walked away from the helmet, pulling an object that looked like an aluminum baton from under the shelf. "Ever wanted to shock the shit out of someone, but not necessarily kill them? Most of the time. Well this genuine Texas Tech cattle prod works like a human-bug-zapper-thing. And it's fun as hell. The price, for you two charming chaps, is a hundred-fifty caps. Energy cells sold separately." "I've got ammunition of all calibers. Handguns of all sorts. This laser pistol's on sale for a hundred caps. That power fist, fully repaired by your's truly, two hundred caps." Snatching a green cased device from one of the doors, man with the arm helmet on his head held up a Pip-Boy 3000.
"A treasure, right? V.A.T.S. module is damaged beyond repair, but all the other bells and whistles still work. Geiger counter, health and radiation analyisis, weight readings, real-time mapping, undamaged digital display. All that, and I'd day two years left on the internal battery. For friends like you, four hundred caps. Oh, and try not to get it wet."
Shea looked over the rest of the inventory and prepared to sell her own loot, allowing Rusty to trade and resupply first. |
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Post by Zelus on Oct 11, 2015 19:50:02 GMT -5
Abandonded Farm, South of the Capital Wasteland Rusty had given her a thankful, but pained expression as Shea assisted him in pushing the mighty beast off him. Later on, when he was sat down, nursing the bottle he’d left for Shea hours before, he watched her come inside. “Thanks for uh… the help. If you didn’t, I think I’d probably ended up dead.” He told after a moment, looking down in the dark at his shredded shirt. He was almost glad that he didn’t venture out into the wasteland on his own. He’d probably been the filling to the monster’s stomach within a week. He grimaced at the thought and the taste of the Scotch as he took a final drink. Finally deciding he was done, he reached over and put the bottle down on the table. When the lantern was placed on the table, Rusty turned to look at it noticing the glass was missing from the front. Unable to motivate himself through the pain, he sat there and just sighed. That would need fixing and replacing. Frankly he was just glad she found it again. It was too valuable to lose in the darkness. He took a glance at the shotgun whilst it was there. Like him, it was covered in the blood of the Yao-Guai. “Wait, do those things hunt in packs?” He shivered at the thought. “We struggled to take down one… Fuck, I don’t even want to think about that.” He told shaking his head Rusty turned to look at her as she sat next to him. He breathed out a bit as she took a hold of his stinging ear. With a wince he gave her an ‘uh huh’. Without moving he turned his eyes and watched her pick up the bottle. As she tipped it over his ear, Rusty let out an audible pained hiss. “F-fuck.” He snapped, almost recoiling from her, but he stayed where he was. With his ear released he gave her a nod. “Y-yeah, suppose.” He told his response to both statements. “Hopefully it’ll heal up fine… Thankfully it didn’t tear it off. Probably will get a scar too.” “I don’t think” was all that Rusty got out as Shea pushed her hand under his torn jacket. “W-woah. Hey!” He exclaimed, as he felt her fingers on his ribs. He watched her allowing her to do whatever she was doing. Rusty squirmed just slightly as her fingers brushed against the sensitive budding bruises. “Uh… found what you were looking for?” He asked as he watched her withdraw her hand through under his torn clothing. His chest was sore, and his scratch stung. Thankfully he was intact, with all but a few scratches and some developing bruises. “I uh, yeah that’d probably be a good idea. Thanks.” Rusty agreed, letting her get up and leave the house. Once she was gone, Rusty took off his jacket and threw it on the back of the couch. As he reached down and opened his shirt. Seeing the large scratches across his chest, he sighed out heavily. It could’ve been a whole lot worse. He could be at least thankful for that. Removing his boots, and doing up his shirt, Rusty lay down on the couch, placing his head against the arm rest. Morning Feeling her nudge him with her foot, Rusty jumped up. He instantly regretted it, wincing as he felt the bruises on his ribs. “Oof.” He winced, instantly taking a hold of his side. He’d dreamt of the Yao-Guai attacking, though it had been Shea in his place. He looked at her slightly relieved, but he quickly shook the feeling off. He snorted slightly as she barged her way onto the couch. Rusty pushed himself up with his good foot, moving to sit up straight. With a yawn, he looked over to her. “Uh…” He told, noticing the blood. He was about to ask her, when he turned and looked over at the bag by the door. He assumed she’d spent some of the morning butchering the Yao-Guai. Shrugging the situation off, Rusty lifted his bad leg up to rest on the other, keeping his weight off it. “I needed it.” He replied to her comment about his sleeping. With Hawking Hills in mind he gave her a bit of a nod. “Not too far at all then, huh?” He asked with a smile. He stretched a bit, though he made sure not to hurt himself in the process. Suddenly Shea hit him in the leg with some Med-X, making Rusty yelp suddenly with surprise. “H-Hey!” He shouted, though more of a look of surprise on his face rather than pain. “Ya-ya could’ve warned me, jeez.” He huffed, rubbing his leg slightly as she removed the needle. He kept rubbing his leg, though the medicine was quick to set in. He watched her carefully as she spoke about him. Not being able to keep himself from looking embarrassed. “I uh… I had no choice it was either stand and fight or run and uh… let it surprise you. Couldn’t really allow that.” He told, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “Plus I thought the shotgun would take care of it… apparently not.” He snorted, shaking his head a bit. “I guess… it eventually did.” With a shrug, he stretched out his bad leg. Once he was sure the pain was gone, Rusty slipped his boots on and got to his feet. Sure enough there was very little pain. “Hopefully if we get a good place in Hawkin’,” Rusty told, copying her pronunciation of the place, “we can get a good room and some actual rest… We both could do with some rest and relaxation.” He’d noticed her tired look, but he himself felt like he’d crawled out of the grave. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to move.”The Road South Rusty had kept his attention to her, when she spoke of the different kinds of rounds. He could probably go into this much detail about making explosives. He knew how to put a frag mine together in his sleep. The information about the different calibres was something to note down, he only wished he could write it down or something to help him remember. Still, if Shea could remember that stuff, so could he. Rusty watched her as she spoke about training. He didn’t doubt that he needed a world of training, but hand to hand? How were they going to do that? Was she gonna have him train on her, or were they gonna get some poor sap to train with at Hawking. He gave her a nod. “That sounds great to me. I look forward to it, didn’t really have siblings to practise that stuff with so, I bet it’d be really useful.” He knew that it certainly was useful. If he ever got disarmed, which could be a possibility if he ever faced someone like Shea; he’d have no choice but to fight hand to hand. With his reloaded shotgun in hand, he walked next to Shea. He came to a halt next to her as she took out her gun and used it to survey the area before them. With news of the river before them, Rusty grinned. “Not much further, huh?” He asked as he did his best to look out to spot it. He could just make it out in the distance. Though there were many hills in the surrounding areas. Rusty didn’t like the thought of climbing a hill, just to find more ahead of them, but from what Shea had said, they didn’t have much further to go. Almost an hour later, the two were stood on the end of the bridge over the river. Rusty stood quietly looking over to the rocky rapids that sat on the stretch of river right next to the bridge. He chewed his lip as he looked at it. It was beautiful and troubling at the same time. An old paddleboat lay beached on one of the rocks, empty. Rusty looked it over, noticing that it had been long broken. Rusty chewed on his lower lip as he looked at the fragile looking bridge. “Looks like they could do with someone to fix this up… Either that or a new bridge.” Rusty commented, as he noticed the car wrecks dumped in the river. With a shiver, Rusty looked over at Shea. The wind was strong now, probably funnelled thanks to the hills. It was pleasant though, a contrast to the hot and sticky heat spreading over the wasteland. Rusty was thankful for the slow pace. With the amount of crap they were carrying, a faster pace would’ve made their time almost intolerable. With a nod, Rusty listened to her. Sounded like this place wasn’t that safe… but then what place really was? But her plan sounded as good a plan as any other. She also knew this area far better than he did. He’d trust her, since she seemed to know more about this place than anywhere else. “Sounds good to me, I’ll do what you do.” He stated as he pulled his bag off his shoulders and stowed his shotgun with the other guns. He’d make do with the pistol for now. “So uh, lead the way I guess.” Rusty told, looking behind them into the wasteland. By now the city was nowhere in sight. This was the furthest he’d ever gone and it was about to go further. A grimace followed Rusty’s first step on the bridge. Time to head to Hawking Hills, he guessed. Hawking Hills, Virginia Wasteland
As they walked together through the ruins, Rusty noted the declining sun, and sighed a bit. Seemed they’d been slower than initially planned. They weren’t so late that things were closed. Still it seemed it was quite late. Rusty looked around idly. Given there was a settlement deep within the ruins, he imagined all the buildings around them had been picked clean. His mind wandered over what he was about to see, about the people there. He was incredibly curious about the mythical Annie. His train of thought was interrupted, when Shea started speaking. When Shea referenced the snipers, Rusty looked up and caught sight of them. He wondered how many of them there really were. Surely some remained hidden. He bit his lower lip as he focused on them, before giving them a shrug and turning back to Shea. “Too many big guns and short tempers huh? I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He spoke quietly, more to himself than her. Rusty’s eye flicked upwards and to the road ahead as he heard gunfire. That must’ve been a constant noise for the city. Hell, they’d heard gunfire all the way back on the bridge. Perhaps this place was a little rougher around the edges than it appeared. “I dunno if I could do that… I mean, I’m sure it’s effective and all, but I dunno. Killing from a distance just seems… disconnected ya know? Plus you’ve got more chance of missing. At least up front you’ve got more chances and ya know if you kill the guy he’s dead.” Rusty spoke as he ran a hand through his hair. “Though… With me being close quarters, and you being a sniper… Seems we got both areas covered, huh?” He asked with a grin. Whilst they turned a corner, Rusty looked up and down the street. The noise of life engulfed them as they walked down the main street. “This place actually doesn’t look bad… Though I bet this place didn’t take a direct hit,” Rusty rambled; a bit in wonder about how good the place looked, compared to the capital. He’d seen the craters left by direct impacts in DC, the mountains of rubble and fallen towers. This place however was certainly a lot cleaner. The rubble was pretty much gone and the junked up cars were completely gone. They’d either been scrapped or just plain old moved. Rusty wasn’t entirely sure which, not that it mattered. Passing by a balcony, Rusty caught the eye of a man. Casual as he could make it, Rusty turned and gave him a slight look, though he continued on. “This place is so different to Rivet City… I mean, I didn’t expect there to be another big tug, but… just the feeling of it is different.” He told Shea, as he watched torches being lit around them. He gave them a slight look, remembering that he needed spare parts for his lantern. The garage was something that interested him too. He could see the Brahmin being pulled inside for shelter. He could see a barrel fire lit inside and a bunch of caravaneers huddled around it. Continuing on, Rusty stuck close to Shea’s side. Rusty watched as the mall came into focus, as well as the tall apartment building closer to them. With a small impressed smile, he gave it a nod. The tall building wasn’t nearly the tallest building he’d ever seen, but it was certainly the tallest building around. It probably had a great view up top. “Hm… Might be worth a look one of these days… when we’re rolling in the caps and we can afford our own places… Looks as good a place as anywhere to live.” He stated, looking the building over. “That is… if we decide to settle here. I dunno about you, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to stick down roots just yet.” He hadn’t seen nearly enough of the wasteland to put his caps down on something. Then again it was a hub for merc jobs. Maybe it would be good to have something of a HQ to operate out of. Then again, who’s to say the place was secure whilst he was gone? He wondered about the topic. Plus there was the matter of cleaning and maintenance. There was also the matter of Shea’s safe house. Maybe that was Shea’s headquarters, a place to call home. He was quite curious of the place, what it looked like. He couldn’t imagine Shea to be the sort of woman to focus on the look of the place. It was probably just for function. As they passed the terrace, a man was thrown out. Rusty couldn’t help but give a slight chuckle. The chuckle soon faded as he saw the woman with the armoured guy. A wide eye from Rusty stared for utter moments at her outfit, before he turned quickly and looked away. He shook his head slightly to get the focus away from the woman. When they were clear enough away, he turned and looked to Shea giving her a look as if to ask ‘is that normal?’ The attention was drawn to the man in the trench coat, using his own clothing to sell his wears. Rusty was a little shocked to see the amount of stuff he was carrying, but he looked to Shea to allow her to refuse their service. He gave the man a polite apologetic smile as he continued on. He guessed people would do anything to get some caps. This didn’t exactly surprise him, though he felt bad for the guy knowing how many times he was probably declined sales. Suddenly the two was approached by what appeared to be a hobo. He’d seemed… eccentric to say the least. If Rusty was honest, that seemed to be something of an understatement. The guy seemed a bit insane… probably off his face on chems… either that or withdrawal. Rusty frowned at the man. He got close to Shea, too close. His gift was her pistol in his face, and instantly he backed down, quite literally so as the man fell down onto the pavement. Rusty looked over at Shea, sighing with relief as the guy proved to be harmless. Soon the two moved on and the guy disappeared off the street. The road leading to the mall was an odd one, musical even. He’d heard the music on the radio, but never had he listened to music live. He listened quietly to the music, as they past, though the sound was soon gone, replaced by brawling and some… sound he wasn’t entirely sure what. He had a good feeling what it was though. Shaking his head, he continued on. He looked over at Shea, and then turned slightly as he heard a dog running in front of them. “Huh. I haven’t seen a dog in a long time…” He told, remembering the last dog he’d seen belonged to a scavenger. “Oh shit.” Rusty spoke, surprised as he saw the man with his pistol drawn. Rusty turned to look at Shea to see what she would do when he asked them about the dog. She surprised him when she misdirected the guy into the tent with the moaning. Rusty wasn’t sure exactly why she did that, though once the man went off towards the tent, Rusty gave a little snicker. “Ya probably got that guy into a whole heap of trouble.” He told Shea in barely a whisper. There was a lingering good humoured tone in his voice. After the sound of the fight breaking out in the tent, Rusty snorted. “There it is~” He sang, shaking his head a bit. When Shea spoke to him he gave her a short nod. “Probably was… Wonder where it got off to. Bet it’s in it’s den now.” A short while later the two were stood in the plaza of the mall, and Rusty gave a quiet whistle. The planters were empty, but the majority of benches remained intact. He looked up at the glass ceiling. Whilst the majority of the glass remained intact, the rest had been covered to keep the plaza dry when it stormed. Rusty was reminded of the plaza back at the metro station. At least this place looked stable, Rusty thought. It looked nice though, with all the lights around. Two protectrons walked on slow patrols independent of each other. He watched the robots carefully, noticing the robots were ignoring the fresh corpse next to a bunch of mercenaries. Rusty paid the corpse some thought, wondering what had transpired. Hopefully it wasn’t another addict who decided to beg the wrong mercs. Chances are that was the case though. He sighed a bit, though he shook his head and turned to look at Shea. When Shea told him about the machine shop, he gave her a nod. “Oh sounds good, we can unload all this stuff, huh?” He asked, adjusting the straps on his back. He was instantly made happy at the fact that his weight would be off his shoulders. “Let’s get going then.” He grinned walking off in the direction of the machine shop “Maybe I’ll get him to fix me up some armour one day.” Rusty was half way through wondering what sort of armour he wanted, when they walked into the workshop. Keeping quiet, Rusty let Shea shout to the man, though he took a moment to look around the store at all the various spare parts. He wondered if he could’ve found a spare lens, though he shrugged and turned back to Arc. He turned slightly and watched the employee disappear off somewhere. As the mechanic called Shea Fox, he gave her a glance. It seemed they used the codenames here. He figured that was probably the norm here. As he listened, he heard talk of Annie again. So Annie had called her Fox? Huh… So that’s how she got her name. When the guy called him a slave, he was frankly surprised. Not nearly as surprised as when Shea turned hostile at the word. Rusty turned quickly as he heard the guard near the door. His hand followed Shea’s, taking a hold of the pistol stuck in his belt. He kept his eye fixed upon the guard. After a few brief moments of tenseness, the mechanic calmed the situation. Rusty released his grip on his pistol. He was a little confused at the attention he was getting from the man. Shifting awkwardly on the spot, the situation made him feel awkward. Rusty looked around hoping the conversation was going to move on. After hearing her almost prideful description of his tackling of a yao-guai, he almost choked on his own breath. “Oh please… it wasn’t that big of a deal…” Rusty told Shea, attempting to play down the ordeal. The Kid’s mouth fell open as the mechanic opened up his store for them. Quickly he looked around, ever so slightly confused. “That’s… pretty cool.” He spoke after a moment after he looked around. “That must’ve taken ages to wire up.” Walking up to the counter, Rusty’s eye began following the man about as he began showing off his goods. Rusty looked at the odd looking helmet with sheer disinterest. It looked odd, probably even odder actually being worn. It was a novelty thing, and he couldn’t imagine anyone would actually wear it in combat. If nothing else, it was probably some kind of weird knickknack to put on a wall. The second object was largely more interesting to him. It sounded useful in some aspect, though Rusty wasn’t entirely sure whether he actually wanted it. Something like that would’ve been helpful if they ever needed to capture someone alive, but right now it was just added weight. Rusty shrugged at the item, allowing the man to go on. Rusty had been about to interrupt the man as he spoke of ammunition, when he went straight on to talk about his handguns. After looking over the laser pistols, Rusty shook his head. “Nah, I wouldn’t be any good with those. Dunno how to maintain ‘em.” He explained, looking over the powerfist. “This too, sorry,” Rusty told, skipping on the power fist. The pipboy greatly interested him though, it sounded incredibly useful. He looked it over quickly. It was obviously rare, even Rusty knew that. He’d seen only a few in his time, but it certainly looked tempting. The large bag of caps in his satchel began to burn in his pocket. If he had some extra caps he probably would’ve took it. Instead he just shook his head. “Maybe another time, though uh, I’ve got some stuff to unload. I’m gonna need some ammo too, so uh. Let’s see.” Rusty put his bag carefully down on the counter. Carefully he took out the guns he’d taken from the various conflicts they had experienced since leaving Rivet City. With the pile of guns in front of him, Arc examined every one of them. He hummed and arhed and then calculated. Before too long he had a sum for Rusty, and the kid chewed his lower lip. “How about if I throw in…” Rusty paused for a brief moment pulling out the tins of mentats and dropping them on the counter. “Round it to two hundred?” He asked, looking around the store. His eye locked upon something instantly, and then he nodded. “Actually, scrap that. Gimme a full box of twelve gauge shots, that uh medical brace over there, three full cartridges of five-five-six… and the rest, caps.” Rusty told, letting Arc grab what he had asked for. After looking at the smaller pile, Rusty grinned. “Excellent, it’s a deal.” The pile of caps was much smaller, though it doubled the caps he had had before receiving his cut of Eddie’s money. Once Arc took the pile, Rusty stuffed his bartered items in his satchel. He was about to turn away when he caught Arc’s glance at his chest. “Oh… right I better see if you can fix this…” “It’d cost ya. Though you could always just buy another set of armour-actually now that I think about it, I think I’ve got…” Arc muttered as he stomped around the bar and over to a tan security uniform sat in one of the opened cabinet. “Here. This will fit ya. Newly come in actually- don’t ask where it came from.” He told, lifting the armour out and ontop the counter in front of Rusty, who’d wandered over. “Not as good as regular combat armour in terms of protection… or the kind those guards over on the boat in the deep city. It’s lighter though. It’ll keep you light on your feet… I’ll give it to ya for a hundred and fifty.” Rusty blinked at him. “Uh, huh…” he whispered, reaching out and checking the armour over. Any identifying insignias had been painted over. “And if you’re gonna go and tussle with more monsters, you’ll probably need more protection than I can fit in your jacket.” With that said, Rusty turned to look at Shea, as if checking with her. He then gave the guy a nod. “Alright. I’ll take it.” He agreed. Quickly he pulled out his caps and counted the amount out and slid them over to Arc. “Thanks… Shea? You wanna go now?” Rusty asked as he turned to look at her, though as he did so, he didn’t really look at her. Instead he peered past her as he noticed a panting dog by the door of the garage. Rusty smirked a bit to himself. Seemed Shea had attracted a little friend. Wondering how she’d react to the dog, Rusty looked over at her and nodded over to it, without so much more of a word. |
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