Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Oct 15, 2015 22:34:16 GMT -5
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Hawking Hills,
Virginia Wasteland
The machine shop was relatively quiet compared to the ambient sounds from the surrounding city, despite the sun having set an hour ago. As Rusty concluded his business with Arc, Shea laid her own trades out on the counter. Her old pistol sat before them, the barrel and cylinder scarred almost as badly as the mercenary herself. Despite having carried the ancient .357 revolver for years, the mercenary decided to sell it to the engineer. It was a choice of practicality over sentimentality. The N99, while not quite as reliable and requiring maintenance, was more versatile in the woman's hands. Faster firing rate, larger magazine capacity, less recoil, and faster reloads had outweighed the powerful but slow mule-of-a-revolver. The fact that the N99 was in mint condition was an added bonus.
The double barrel shotgun was next. It was sat on the counter slowly. The woman saw images of Andale for a moment, blinking quickly in an attempt to dismiss them. They deserved worse. she thought darkly. Arc folded the weapon in half quickly, his keen eyes scanning the break-action 12 gauge.
"Uncommon. A good find, but well-used. Missing a set screw and the sight bead. Fifty caps."
"Don't insult me." Shea replied, shifting her weight to the other leg.
"Sixty."
"Eighty, ya damn crook." the mercenary countered, moving a stray lock of glowing hair behind her ear.
"Seventy, and I'll throw in an ice-cold Nuka."
"...Deal."
Arc placed the shotgun on a shelf behind the counter as the woman helped herself to the beverages. As she walked, Shea gave Rusty a look that seemed to say "pay attention." For Rusty, this was a free introduction into haggling. Opening a Nuka-Cola fridge showing remarkably little corrosion, Shea then popped the cap and guzzled a brown cola. Gazing upwards as the Nuka drained from the bottle, her eye fixed on two items hanging near the ceiling.
"How much for the masks?" Shea asked, belching before tossing the bottle into a bin that contained a dozen others just like it. Shea tossed a Nuka to Rusty. Returning to the counter, the vagabond nodded upwards. As Arc's gaze followed her own to a matched set of leather and rubber gas masks. The eye lenses were presumably glass, and the thing's reminded Shea of ugly, mutant, human heads hanging from the ceiling.
"Them? Never used. Beautiful specimens, don't ya think? Came from tha Coast. Old-World, government issue, biological, chemical, and radioactive dust filt-"
"Goddammit Arc, how much?" she interrupted. Two things became clear to Rusty: Arc loved to talk up the he was selling and Shea had little patience for it. The tall man paused, seizing her up. As he did so her brow lowered and she blew smoke in his general direction, causing him to speak again quickly.
"Two hundred. 'Cus we're pals." the man said, adjusting the leather glove that ran up to his armpit. Burns and cuts adorned it, and heavy pieces hung from it like a strange membrane. The mercenary studied his changing body language as he fidgeted with his sleeve.
"Nah. I'd take 'em for hundred-seventy. With an extra set o' filters. And a six pack of Nuka. That would sound about fair."
"You're looney." Arc said, raising an eyebrow and glancing a Rusty comically. His odd ear-rings jangled noisily.
"Then I dun want 'em." Shea said with a shrug. The mercenary began gathering up her supplies and organizing her pack. When she was finished and slung the pack over one shoulder Arc spoke quickly.
"Wait, alright. Deal. They're Chinese anyway, shit's bad luck anyway." he moved to the hanging masks, plucking them from the old hook and placing them on the steel countertop before Shea. "You plannin' on seein' Annie, then?"
"Yeup." Shea said as one of the masks disappeared inside her bag. The other mask was tossed to Rusty, along with a package containing a second filtration canister. The woman glanced at Rusty to see if her was ready to leave. The engineer leaned against the steel counter, observing the silent exchange between the two companions. Shea and Rusty had developed a small vocabulary of unspoken words with facial expressions. A stranger would have a hard time believing they had only worked together for a week.
"Fox..." Arc began, his eyes focused past her further down the counter.
"Yeah?" Shea asked, looking up at the tall man. Smoke rolled from her nostrils.
"What's with the briefcase? Hidden machine gun? Full of Jet? Your dominatrix tools?" he mused, a smug look occupying his dirty face. Arc mimed being spanked and whipped a couple times, glancing at Rusty and chuckling. If it was an attempt to irritate Shea, it failed.
"Nah. Just some new tech. Rogue market stuff, ya know. Probably from the Commonwealth or something. Some scab is buyin' it for a thousand caps."
The engineer remained silent, obviously attempting to weight the likelihood of Shea's words and the credibility of her tone. His eye betrayed him quickly, however, glowing with the curiosity of someone who lives to understand technology in all forms. When she grabbed the handle, he took a step forward.
"Wait... what is it?"
"See for yourself." the mercenary said quietly, spinning the case around so it faced Arc. The engineer took a few steps down the counter, leaned over, then slowly opened the leather briefcase. "Holy shit, Fox. ---, close the fuckin' door. This... this is the real thing. I mean, this isn't a hack job."
"Yeup."
"And it works?"
"That I dunno, and dun care. Thousand caps is a thousand caps. Well, might seeya tomorrow." Shea concluded, reaching for the case again.
"Wait! Uh.. your probably takin' something like this north, right?"
"Not that it's any of yer business, but yeh."
"I could save you some time and headache. And I know you don't wanna go near those heathens, plus this thing is dangerous. Explosive, most likely. How about I give you six-hundred caps? As in, right now." Arc said, bewitched by the sinister beauty of the massive metal collar. The man ran his fingers over it's clean surface, his mouth hanging open ever-so-slightly.
"Take a hit of four-hundred caps and have a botched job on my record? No thanks, Archy. Seeya 'round."
"Wait!" he said again, his eyes widening a bit. "I mean, knowing them, they'll might just say 'fuck it' and try to kill you instead of payin' up, right? So why not take the guaranteed caps, save yourself some time and hassle? I'll even maintenance your weapons free of charge this time. C'mon Fox, I'd owe you one."
"Hmm." The mercenary said, doing her best to look torn. Gunfire echoed from somewhere outside. "Deal, but I'll need you to look at this armor...".
As Shea and Rusty made their way down the street, the mercenary glanced to her companion. Arc had added a two pieces to Shea's wasteland armor, a collar of sorts and a formed plate that covered her left breast and her heart. She had opted for it to be shaped from 3/8" steel, capable of stopping most handgun rounds and some low-powered rifle rounds. She adjusted the three-piece systems' leather straps, which she would need to modify later in the name of comfort.
"You seem pissed at me fer sellin' the thing." she said as they passed a well-armed man pulling a wagon. It contained corpse sporting a fresh bullet hole. The cart's wheels squeaked noisily over the ambient city noise and yelling. Small-time bounty.
Shea's blue eye ignored the car and trained on Rusty with her signature calm, cool, and collected expression. The wind blew her blond hair and her sleeveless jacket wildly for a moment, carrying with it the sound of a horrible scream.
"An' I s'pose I understand if yer mad, I don't mind cus all these caps are gonna take care of us for a while. I'll give you your cut when you decide you want it." Shea added once no one was within earshot. She turned her attention back to the road. The young man may not want the money immediately because of his intact morality, but the mercenary knew he'd need them eventually. They turned a corner, passing a wobbly man who was drowning his troubles in an unmarked bottle. A group of armored men and one tall woman leaned against an rusty metal bench ahead. They appeared to be throwing knives into a skeletal tree. Beside them, a large drum glowed as the tips of flames could be seen escaping the holes.
"You suck." one of the heavier men commented, nodding his head in emphasis.
"Shaddup." another mercenary replied, pulling his knife from the scorched bark. He had missed the circle completely.
"Step aside, ladies." the tall woman said, snatch the blade from the second mercenary. "After this I'll teach you all how to tie your boots."
Shea ignored the little competition, passing them without so much as a glance. Her eye had focused on the illuminated bar further down the street. Lamps hung from the porch of the establishment, swaying lazily in the wind and causing the light to sway back and forth across the front of the building. Painted in crooked across the wall were large letters that read: Annie's. Shea paused before the place. The died down slowly, allowing sounds from within the pub to escape into the street. Giving Rusty a smirk, the vagabond seemed to give herself a quick look-over. When she was satisfied, the scarred woman spoke.
"Welcome to Annie's, Kidd." she said quietly. Her voice seemed distant as the woman reflected quietly.
"Helluva little adventure, eh? Been walking for a week, slogged through some hell, and here we are. If things go right, this will be our temporary squat. If things get dicey, follow my lead." she said, starting to walk up the steps. If things go right, Annie will like him. If not...
"And for fuck's sake, don't act weird with Annie..."
...
WIP WIP
-fin tom
