The REALLY Wild Wasteland. (The Fallout RP!)

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | The Enclave Vault | Interrogation Room # 23
Impressions from #411​

Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 Charlotte Sorrowfeld looked at Enclave Intelligence Specialist #667, her eyes blackened and swollen from the repeated beatings that her former subordinate had administered throughout the interrogation session. It was visible from his expression that he was enjoying this time with his former superior. The room was like all the other rooms that she'd entered and she like all the other prisoners that had been brought to her for questioning since her entry into the Enclave Armed Forces, save in one respect. Unlike the others that she had questioned, she did not scream at the torture that Enclave Intelligence Specialist #667 administered, she did not beg for mercy or for the pain to cease. Unlike Charlotte, #667 did not have the courage to do what needed to be done in order to break a prisoner. He stopped cutting on her skin before she had time to fully appreciate the pain. He stopped pulling the skin away from the wound before she had time to register the sound of skin separating from muscle.

"It's all in my report Enclave Intelligence Specialist #667. A pair of visitors were observed..."

~BASH!~
~CRUNCH!~
~CRASH!~

The Former Enclave Intelligence Specialist's head rang as it impacted against the concrete floor after having been punched in the face, kneed in the gut and pulled forward to hit the ground.

"Well your report is under suspicion, prisoner. Tell us again."

Thus began Former Enclave Asset #411 third iteration of the story that she had already told Enclave Intelligence Specialist #667.

"A pair of visitors were observed entering the vicinity of Former Enclave Asset Lucy Black's residence. The first one was identified as the BlamCo Heiress, Kristin Blamco. There is a lengthy file in regards to her combat assessment and recruitment possibilities as you well know."

~BASH!~ Charlotte merely smiled at the Enclave Intelligence Specialist after the impact of his punch. She wanted to call him a panty waist but she'd simply be wasting what time she had left involved in bantering with someone who thought his station was in line with her's.

"The second visitor has yet to be identified due to a high classification lock on his file. Given patterns within the Enclave Databases and the fact that the file came from the Personnel Database, one could only assume that this was an Enclave deserter. Additionally due to the classified lock on his file I could only assume that the male subject was either a former Enclave Deep Ops Agent or involved with Research and Development. Given his appearance, I can only assume that he's the latter."

"As you've stated. But you deliberately broke the orders to leave Former Enclave Asset unmolested by your machinations. You could have easily captured and interrogated the unknown subject after his visit with Miss Black."

"But I don't have the leverage to do so. If there was one thing that you should have learned from me, and it appears that you have learned very little under my command, it should have been that when faced with two subjects for interrogation, you aim for the one you have the most leverage against, even if there are orders against doing so. If they are a threat to the Enclave then they should be dealt with before they become a major threat. Our mission in Enclave Intelligence is to not only ensure the flow of information into our data banks but to ensure that all issues are dealt before a full military strike becomes necessary."

"No. We simply report to our superiors and tell them what they need to know." #667 stated simply before looking back towards a one way window and a green light. If the light turned red, it would be time to stop the questioning and execute the observer's verdict.

"What happened next?"

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | 324 West Black Lane (The Black Residence)
#411 is impressed​

Enclave Intelligence Specialist had heard screams similar to the ones that came rushing out of the Former Enclave Asset's mouth, she'd even been the cause of quite a few of those screams. These were the screams that comforted #411 that she was doing the Enclave's will and the will of FalloutJack.

There was one real difference between this one and the others however, this one might have spelled the end of #411's career with the Enclave. This one might have been the trumpet that sounded the end of Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411's life and yet, she didn't mind so long as the enemies of the Enclave were vanquished. She could die happily knowing that.

The screaming had stopped and Lucy Black had stopped moving as well. The pain induced shock had caused the woman to pass out, her eye hanging loosely out of the socket like some deflated sport's ball. It was quite the familiar scene... for some reason. #411 unconsciously reached up and touched the scar that marred her once perfect face and remembered that it had been a member of the Enclave that had saved her from this bleeding out.

As FalloutJack had once done for Charlotte Sorrowfeld, Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 now did for Lucy Black. Pushing a panel located on her thigh, #411 revealed the built in first aid kit and removed a roll of bandages that had been treated to increase the clotting of an open wound, a scalpel, disinfecting anesthetic and a very large syringe of Med-X.

The application of the Med-X was very liberal. As much as Lucy was in pain at the moment, she would be in more pain in the moments to come. The scalpel cut the damaged artificial eye from the last of its moorings before being discarded. Free of the pressure caused by the eyeball, blood began to flow from Lucy's now empty eye socket, blood whose flow was soon staunched by the application of the bandages coated in Quik-Clot.

Minutes after pressure had been applied to the socket, the bleeding had stopped. Lucy, though she had no eye, was no longer in danger of bleeding out. Application of the disinfecting anesthetic soon came to cure the cuts that had been caused by the blade slipping against Lucy's skin. They would allow the skin to heal without scarification, unlike #411's own wound.

Looking down at Former Enclave Asset Lucy Black, Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 waited until her eye opened before asking Lucy one last time.

"Please, tell me. Are you a threat to the Enclave and FalloutJack? I... I need to know."

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Vault-Tec Headquarters
Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 meets people​

There are fewer and fewer certainties in this world than ever before but the ones that you are aware of make you think believe that normalcy is possible. One of these certainties is that the sun will rise in the East and set in the West. Another is that a Death Claw will always, ALWAYS attempt to eat you before you die. Then there are those certainties that make you scratch your head.

The certainty that I speak of is Enclave Heavy Weapon Specialist #209's ability to act without thought in regards to consequence. The Enclave Royale? Where he had taken a number of Enclave Personnel recently assigned to his outfit and pit them in a death match? No he didn't think about the fact that Enclave Human Resources would be rather pissed about having to write so many death payouts. The killing of everything in Plasma range of the Enclave B.A.R.N? He didn't think about the fact that he was solely responsible for a dramatic price increase for Brahmin milk. Fortunately, the Enclave was aware of this certainty and they had prepared for each of Enclave Heavy Weapons Special #209's actions.

This might not have been one of those cases where plans had been proofed against E.D. #209. Would it work out to the caravan's advantage? Who knows? I don't.

Enclave Dominator #209 was laughing at the sight that unfolded before his eyes. It seemed that the Bots that had previously been ignoring the Booming Bessies, allowing them to infiltrate their ranks and positions, had realized what the sort of threat the Bomb Laden Brahmin truly posed. The result was a sort of chaos that brought tears to #209's eyes.

MOO!
BOOM!!
MOO!
BOOM!!

Someone located within Vault-Tec HQ, a member of the faux Enclave Dominators most likely, had panicked when they realized that the danger that the roaming herd of Brahmin-ite posed and ordered the Sentry Bots and Gutsies to fire on the Kabooming Cattle. It would have been a good move if the Bots weren't destroying other Bots while killing those damn cows.

You know... with all this excitement and all these explosions and all this laughing, Enclave Dominator #209 was developing a mighty mighty thirst, a thirst that his standard Enclave Water Ration wouldn't quench. Where might he get a drink 'round these parts? Beer? Beer sounded good.

"HEY YOU!" Enclave Dominator #209 yelled towards the caravan, his voice booming due to the boost output of the unauthorized upgrade to his Enclave Power Armor's voice amplification module. They seemed to be avoiding him, however. Something about the Bots being a bunch of assholes. Walking towards the Caravaners, E.D. #209's Heavy Plasma Vulcan's barrels started spinning until they got to the proper speed, spitting out a stream of green at the Bots that were harassing his potential source for a drink.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU HAS SOME BEER ON THEM?" #209 tried again as he closed the position between himself and the Caravaners, trying to use his best, I'm not going to kill you right this second voice. Not super effective I'm sure.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona​

Road to Dunwich | Ruined Skyscraper Camp​

When Thomas opened his eyes when she bent down to examine him, Arizona's first thought was: Oh good. The idiot is just fine. Then he abruptly reached up and grabbed her in a surprisingly strong hug for such a skinny little drunk.

"OLD ONE! YOU'RE ALIVE! YOU'RE SAFE! YOUR HEAD IS STILL ... erm... ATTACHED!"

The whole display caught her entirely off-guard, so she didn't know whether to hug back, slug him, or do nothing. So she went with instinct and tried to pull away, muttering something along the lines of, "Didn't I tell you not to call me that?".

It didn't last very long though, much to her relief, so once he released her she sat back and leveled a cautious sidelong glance at him. He took the time to sit up, wobbling slightly as he gave her a rather sheepish look.

"S... sorry. I'm glad to see that I haven't failed my duties in keeping you from a slow an agonizing death caused by spending an eternity in a Mire Lurk's innards. Though I will admit that for a guide, I haven't been performing up to par."

She grunted quietly, saying "Being piss-faced-drunk up till now probably has something to do with it."

"I apologize for manhandling you, Old One. I know that despite your blessed longevity, there are those of you cursed with a certain frailty. If I hurt you or offended you, I'm sorry but I was very happy to see you still in the realm of the not yet departed."

"Arizona," she said after a moment, closing her eye and reaching up to pinch where the bridge of her nose used to be "It's Arizona, not 'Old One', and I'm tougher than I look. Have to be to have survived this long."

As he reached for his pack, presumably for a bottle of his hooch, she shook her head and reached into her own duffel, pulling out one of her personal bottles of Scotch. She pulled out the cork with her teeth, spat it out, took a swig, then offered it to him.

"Here. From the fuss you were makin' while you were out, I get the feeling you'll need a drink. Kept mentioning names in your sleep: Marlon, Sylph, Frank. I think I may have heard a 'Lucy' in there somewhere, but I'm not sure. Care to share?" she asked.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp
Thomas' Admissions​

It might have surprised the Old One... Arizona... to know that Thomas up until recently was only a social drinker. That knowledge might have saved Thomas the sheer embarrassment of not being able to tell the difference between the Mushroom Moonshine that he had purchased from Rivet City and the Scotch that Arizona offered him. Still, he accepted the offered bottle and took a short but polite swig, careful not to lose a drop of the liquid. As far as he was concerned, the Scotch may have been as old as his traveling companion and worth far more than Thomas.

There had been mention that Thomas had spoken while he was unconscious, something that he was embarrassingly aware of doing since he was a child, back before his mother had given him the nick name Shifty.

"Care to share?" Arizona prodded, poked, picked at.

The Former Undertaker of the East thought about it for a moment and nodded. If the Old One was trusting Thomas with her life, she deserved to know what she was in for should his past crop up again, as pasts inevitably do. The question was where to start.

"Prior to ending up... the way I am now... I was in the family business of burying the recently departed. Though you might not think of it this way, Undertaking is an honest an noble profession. Who else would care for a person's remains lest they become food for the common scavenger or worse, end up as adornment on some Raider's urinal?" Thomas said, remembering his long unused skill of herding words, "As a group, the Undertaker's union travels the Wastes, seeking the remains of those who have hired us... them... for their post mortem care. As you can imagine, the organization's means of employment tends to impact its members socially. No one likes to be reminded of their mortality. This suits the Union just fine however in that its main profession, the one that it does not advertise openly, is that of assassins for hire. As a semi-quasi-religious group dedicated to the dead, no one questions the reasons an Undertaker is around. They only think it best to avoid requiring an Undertaker's services in the near future."

There was a pause while drinks were drank.

"Marlon... Frank... Lucy. Until recently they were traveling companions of mine, all involved with the Brotherhood of Steel out of the Citadel. It was Frank that I met first, hawking my services upon him in the middle of a battle with a rather large Behemoth. Then Lucy and then Marlon. Of the three that I mentioned, it was Lucy that I think I grew closest to. She didn't judge me based upon how I made my living but rather how I lived. I think I... liked her." There was a slight pause, emotional pain, trauma and that whole lot had wormed its way into the man's voice, like maggots eating their way through a carcass, "She admitted to being forced into the service of the Enclave and during an Enclave assault, she sought to infiltrate their base of operations. I being myself, hitched a ride with her, passing myself as wanting to contract my work out to the Enclave. It seemed like a good cover story in light of what happened at Raven Rock and the Enclave's ill fated charge on the Citadel. But ultimately it was a failure."

Pause, sip, cough, thousand yard stare.

"I was captured and interrogated by the Enclave. As you might expect, their hospitality towards would be spies and infiltrators is slightly lower than a Super Mutant's hospitality towards... well... anything. My capture put my friend, Lucy, at risk. You would think that having witnessed so many others die, another on the pile would be easy. That just wasn't the case in regards to the young Miss Black. Ultimately, I acted in the same manner any other would be smitten fool would act. I covered for her and she was forced to execute me, or so we thought. It turns out, I was simply kept in a state of suspended animation, a fate worse than death since you are not dead but neither are you truly alive." Thomas wrapped a blanket around his shoulders as he remembered the intense cold that seeped into his body when he was frozen into a block of Carbonite, "I was freed only a few days ago and informed of Lucy's death by the people that I used to work for. The Undertaker's Union does not take kindly to those who know their secrets nor will it be merciful when they find me."

"As for Frank... I think he's dead as well. He lived life in a manner that wasn't conducive to living a long life. And Marlon... I'm sure he's still hawking his own wares to the Brotherhood, though I didn't think to look him up after my release from Enclave custody. I doubt he would look upon me too kindly when he learns that I was responsible for the death of Lucy nor would he take kindly to my thoughts on Frank's fate." This left the last blue haired homicidal elephant in the room, "Sylph."

Thomas thought about what he remembered about the situation with Sylph and something didn't quite sit right with him. The memories that he had, the sensation of pulling the trigger and sending a bullet through his own brother's head while Sylph watched was cloudy, hazy, foggy, unclear. It was very unlike the memories of the other lives that he had taken.

"She was my brother's slave." He said simply, "At least she was until I put a bullet in his skull."

That's all he would say in regards to Sylph. There had been another memory about that incident, one that didn't fit in with what he remembered. Thomas had passed it off as the effects of the alcohol that he had been choking down.

"So... with now that you know what you know about me, wudya think... worth saving my ass in Rivet City?"

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp​

Whatever response the old Ghoul was expecting from Thomas, what she got wasn't it. She figured that he would be evasive, say it was nothing, or even be defensive and say it wasn't any of her business. Instead, he told her his life story, one filled with quite a lot of death.

As he told her about what life as an Undertaker entailed, and his companions with the Brotherhood of Steel, she'd occasionally take the bottle from him to take another drink, then handed it back without much expression. Instead, she just listened as he told her about meeting Frank in the middle of a battle with a Super Mutant Behemoth, of becoming friends with Lucy, an unfortunate woman forced to work for the Enclave. Of their plan to infiltrate the Enclave, and then subsequent failure.

He went on to tell her how he was captured, and to keep his friend Lucy out of trouble, sacrificed himself for her, or at least tried to, and that when he was released was told that she had been killed. Her face stayed blank throughout, save a few indecipherable flashes in her eye that could've possibly been disgust, or confusion, or maybe even sympathy. He finished by telling her that Frank was likely dead, Marlon was probably with the Brotherhood, and explained that Sylph used to be a slave to his brother, before he had killed him.

"So... with now that you know what you know about me, wudya think... worth saving my ass in Rivet City?"

With that, she closed her eye and sighed, before reaching over for the bottle and taking a slow drink. When she pushed it back into his hand, she leaned back and gave him a level stare. He decided to share some personal details about himself, so she may as well return the favor. The question was where to start? After a moment of licking her lips, she decided to just jump right in.

"Before all of this, more than... Shit, has it been that long? More than two hundred years ago, before the bombs fell, I used to be a soldier. Well, armorer, actually. I maintained guns, armor, used to be in the Army. U.S. Army, before everything went to hell." she started, her eye starting to glaze over as she reminisced, "Was something of a troublemaker, got on the wrong side of the law, and the choice was basically prison or the military. I chose the Army."

She reached underneath the neckline of her tank top and pulled out a pair of beat-up dog-tags, mouth twisted into a lopsided grimace. Then she tucked them back in and continued.

"I liked it. Liked using guns, working with my hands. Didn't really care about the war much, till I heard about those damn Commie's launching the first nukes. Or maybe we launched 'em first, can't really remember. At that point, I was pissed and the first thing I thought to do was grab some gear and get the hell outta dodge. So I stole some supplies, my machine gun, some meds, and I ran, abandoning all of my teammates and friends to nuclear fire. Managed to get out of the blast radius too." she said, and at this point she reached over for the Scotch again.

"All I thought about was survivin'," she said after lowering the bottle, "Not much else. Not long after, I got sick, started turning into the gorgeous gal you see before you, and I figured that all bets were off. It was either me, or everyone else, and I was damn sure I'd still be alive in the end. So, I joined one of the first raider bands I could that didn't make me want to wipe em out. I killed people for some of the most petty things you could imagine, stole what I could, salvaged, survived. Then I left and just... Drifted. Been part of a few gangs, was a sheriff for this one little nowhere town, been a courier. Now I'm a freelancer, essentially a raider-for-hire." she finished with a sigh.

Leaning forward, she offered the last of the Scotch with a small smirk.

"So, in regards to whether or not I think you were worth saving? Sure. If my life is worth spit in these wastes, yours has to be worth a hell of a lot more. But I can't say one way or t'other, since I'm hardly one to judge." Arizona told him with a shrug.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp
Thomas' Question​

Thomas "Shifty" McGee smirked. Don't go getting any ideas here, this was the simple smirk of someone who just learned why Scotch seemed to be an infinitely better drink than Mushroom Moonshine. For one, it didn't make you want to simultaneously vomit, urinate and dedicate after the first couple of swigs. It was either than or the buzzing noise inside his head... also caused by the Scotch.

Like the Friendly Former Undertaker, she'd been dealt a bad hand of cards and like the Friendly Former Undertaker, she'd done what she did to survive. But that was everyone's story after the Bombs fell. While Thomas' father had been lucky enough to have found his calling burying his dead neighbors, Arizona appeared to still be looking for hers. As a Raider for Hire... Freelancer... Merc... she had her choice of vocations.

"[small]We're all the same in the Lord Walt's eyes.[/small]" Thomas muttered quietly as he took a drink from the bottle, "Given that I've killed my fair share and played Scar to my brother's Mufasa, I doubt that I'm in a particularly judge-like position either. I think that the world being the way it is has made us do things that we're not particularly proud of, but it has also made us do things that might have once been thought of as heroic. Oh I'm blabbing. I should apologize for this but once my words start flowing, I find it difficult to make them stop."

Pause for breathe, drink and thought. Thomas thought about going on about their lot in life and continue the wallowing session that they both seemed to be embarked upon. Instead, the Undertaker decided to ask a question.

"I have a question for you... given my former profession, I very rarely ran into a woman that would give me the time of day without ensuring that I had did not have ulterior motives that involved putting her in a hole... hmm... that sounded better in my mind... and given my recent recitation of my misadventures with Lucy, it left me wondering something. How do you know when a woman likes you... I mean... how do you know when she has romantic feelings for you?"

... what new level of hell have we reached? Romance advice from a Ghoul? Something tells me that this was a bad batch of Scotch...

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp​

When she finished, Thomas seemed to regard her with a smirk, but he took the last of the Scotch without much comment except for a murmur that she couldn't quite make out, but she would've sworn that she could pick out the name of that 'Lord Walt' character. Whoever that was.

"Given that I've killed my fair share and played Scar to my brother's Mufasa, I doubt that I'm in a particularly judge-like position either. I think that the world being the way it is has made us do things that we're not particularly proud of, but it has also made us do things that might have once been thought of as heroic. Oh I'm blabbing. I should apologize for this but once my words start flowing, I find it difficult to make them stop."

At the very mention of her having done anything that could've been considered heroic, either before or after the end of the world, she couldn't help but break out in laughter. But it wasn't the kind of laugh when someone found something genuinely funny: It was harsh and steeped in irony.

"Me? Do something 'heroic'? Funny." she murmured, her laughter dying down into a brutal chuckle.

But she looked back up at him when he decided to ask one of the strangest questions anyone had ever asked her.

"I have a question for you... given my former profession, I very rarely ran into a woman that would give me the time of day without ensuring that I had did not have ulterior motives that involved putting her in a hole... hmm... that sounded better in my mind... and given my recent recitation of my misadventures with Lucy, it left me wondering something. How do you know when a woman likes you... I mean... how do you know when she has romantic feelings for you?"

It caught her completely off-guard, and she looked at him with a blank stare as she tried to wrap her head around it. Was he seriously asking her for romantic advice? Why? It was a few moments before she recovered, and she decided to fall back on her ages-old snark.

"How should I know? I'm a Ghoul. Why, are you hittin' on me, Thomas?" she asked with a small smirk of her own before she shrugged, saying, "If you're looking for advice from me, on women, you've come to me more than two hundred years too late."

She got up then, striding over to the ruined couch behind him and lounging back before she continued, "And if you're looking to start something with me, remember: I'm old enough to be your grandmother's grandmother, and like I said, I'm a Ghoul besides. Most men aren't into that, and those that are, I'm not usually interested in."

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Vault-Tec Headquarters
Enclave Dominator #209 makes a friend​

What happens when an unstoppable force meets one an immovable object? It beats the bloody daylights outta me and the question is more than slightly irrelevant in the context of what was occurring around the Headquarters of Vault-Tec. The more pertinent question would be what happens when a pacifist meets a violence-monger? Typically the violence-monger would be gloating over the smoldering corpse of the pacifist. It's not really a story worth paying attention to typically, but we'll see how this plays out.

CLANG-ANG-ANG-ANG!! The sound of an wrench impacting against the knee joint of Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209's power armor reverberated loud enough to have been picked up by the Enclave voice amplification module.

"MANNERS!!!" said a voice from behind E.D. #209, one that sounded parched from the elements or perhaps the effort it took to sneak behind the usually impeccable observational skills of the Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist.

A whirring noise was emitted from the Enclave Heavy Weapons Platform Class Power Armor as gyroscopes attempted to compensate for the impact of the wrench on the knee joint, allowing for the man in the Power Armor to land on the attacked knee rather than fall over on his back. The still firing Plasma Vulcan stopped firing, but not before stitching a line neon green line of death along the windows of Vault-Tec Headquarters, flat lining a couple members of Bravo Company.

Meanwhile, from within the Power Armor, its occupant raged not only at the hypocritical nature of his attacker's statement but at the fact that he'd just killed a few Enclave soldiers due to his attacker's actions. He'd been planning on killing them in a slower more interesting fashion.

Without getting up on both feet, Enclave Dominator #209 planted his hand on the ground to turn to see who it was that had attacked him and give them a piece of his mind. It turned out that his attacker was a woman with mousy brown hair and a bright red ribbon tying her hair back. Enclave Dominator #209 HATED red ribbons, especially after that blue haired, crimson ribbon wearing bimbo had made him look like an idiot back at the Enclave Vault. Despite the fact that she had attacked him, the sensor display on his HUD informed E.D. #209 that there were no other weapons of note on her and it wouldn't have been fun to kill her outright at that very moment. It would be best to give her the opportunity to think that she had a chance to live before her hope was dashed by the sound of 8 barrels of plasma spewing Enclave fury spinning up.

"Speaking of manner, where are your's. Attacking a man while his back is turned isn't what I would consider the height of etiquette either," Enclave Dominator #209 said as he reached to his side and pulled out what looked like a combination combat knife and drill and threw it in Robin's direction, the weapon missing her by inches before striking its intended target. The sound of the drill bit spinning up was followed by the sound of armor being drilled through and then followed by someone screaming bloody murder. The Bravo Company flunky attempting to sneak up on the sneaky sneak fell over onto his face and stopped moving.

"Isn't that right, asshole?" E.D. #209 asked the dead man.

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp
Wh...what?!​

The open and honest conversation, an exercise in trust and understanding between the traveling companions, had suddenly taken a turn for the strange and appalling. There were many things, all fairly rude in nature, that Thomas had wanted to say when it came to the concept of courting Arizona. For starters, Arizona looked the way many of Thomas' clients ended up when they were in need of his services. While there were whispers of some of the Undertakers taking advantage of their clients in that state, Thomas McGee was not one of the practitioners of Dead-Loving.

"Huh? I... what I mean is... I..." The young man, a child in comparison to Arizona's two-hundred years walking the Wastes, stammered as his unusually pale cheeks changed into an unusually pale shade of pink, "NO!"

Settle down there, big boy, you got some 'splainin' to do. It took a moment and a chug from the Mushroom Moonshine to properly settle the Frazzled but still Friendly Former Undertaker.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be obtuse and I'm sure that you were quite the looker in your... younger years... not that you aren't now... I mean... I... ummm... what I meant was more along the lines of getting your input on Lucy, not that it matters now that she's passed... but ... I... ummm... was confused ... or rather... interested in knowing... if ... well... you know..." Deep cleansing breathes and spit it out, "It's-just-that-I've-never-been-with-a-woman-that-I-didn't-have-to-pay-for-so-I-was-wondering-if-you-thought-that-she-I-mean-Lucy-was-interested!"

That wasn't so hard was it? Thomas calmed down after the machine gun staccato of syllables that sort of sounded like words.

"But seeing as how you're uncomfortable with the topic, why don't you think that you've done anything heroic? You do remember the circumstances under which you hired me, right? I'd be dead if it wasn't for your actions, dead by the hands of one of Rivet City's upstanding citizens."

 

[Elfgore]

The Intro of Rufio.

"Let me go you hooligan!" Rufio demanded. Of course, his order only came out as "woof". Rufio had just been enjoying his evening walk when out of nowhere he was abducted by a young deviant. All he could see was blackness and all he could hear was the sound of jingle bells.

"I say again, you thug! Let go of me this instant!" As if somehow hearing his plea, the low-life picked up the sack Rufio had been contained and opened the top. Rufio caught a glimpse of the ugliest monster he had ever seen. Of course the smell was even worse. The monster gave Rufio a terrifying smile before he turned the bag upside down. Before Rufio knew what was happening, he was above open air and falling quite rapidly.

Fear filled Rufio's mind. A gentleman was to die in a state of honor, not falling to his death. A tear fled from his eye as he fell faster and faster. Before he knew it, Rufio had landed on something. Something he had hit hard.

The Tale of Blind girl and her Dog.

The young lady started rubbing Rufio's head in thanks of his fine service. "Anything for a young-lady." Rufio said with a bow. "Dass a gud boi. Yes it iz!" The lady stated with glee as she pet his head. Rufio may be a man of fine things, but he could never turn down a good petting.

This touching moment was soon broken as a man started groaning very loudly. Rufio turned around to see a man laying on his back, with several bones broken. Putting the pieces together, Rufio realized he had landed on this poor gent. "Terribly sorry about that, 'ole chap." Rufio apoligized. Before Rufio could say anything else, the young lady he had just saved started bashing the chap's head in. Rufio quickly ran up to her and gently bit her jacket, trying to tug her away from the poor man. "This is not how a lady should be acting!" Rufio shouted. Rufio then heard a loud bang and could smell the steaming barrel of gun. This young lady had just murdered an injured man.

Rufio, now worried for his own well-being, let go of the lady's jacket and started backing away slowly. The girl turned around and faced him and gave him a warm smile. "It's okay, Doggy. He was a bad man!" She said that without any remorse. She bent down on her knees and stuck her hand out. "Truth is, boy. I have a tough time seeing and could really use some help getting around. Would you be my puppy and go on adventures with me?

Rufio was struck with indecisiveness. This young lady was blind, but she had shown she has a darker side. But as she bludgeoned him with her shotgun she had said he hit her. Rufio could not stand for such a thing. Rufio had made his decision. Rufio walked forward and put the top of his head on the lady's hand. She immediately started petting his head again. "What's you name, doggy?"

"Well young lady... my name is... RUFF. IH. OHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

 

[evilengine]

"HEY YOU! WHICH ONE OF YOU HAS SOME BEER ON THEM?

The last minute or so had been somewhat of a blur... Heavy sentry guns, robots, disappearing lady, that chick hurling pulse mines like one of them Olympic sportsmen, stampeding cattle of the exploding variety... however, all of this snapped the old man out of his confused state at the sound of a voice. A voice requesting... merchandise!

In a surprising display of agility not often akin to ghoul-folk, Chester leapt to his feet, almost knocking down the young lady that had been taking cover beside him behind his mobile store. His cocked and ready rifle now slung back on his shoulder, his hand automatically reached back to his rucksack, fingers twiddling with the tiny switches and dials.


As the radio sparked back to life, happy tunes once again drifting through the air, Chester cleared his throat with a hacking cough, before facing his prospective customer with a wide toothy smile.

"Do my ears deceive me? A young gentleman in need of some refreshment on this? A glorious and warm summer's day in our beloved wasteland that is the United States of America?"

The fact he was addressing someone decked to the balls in powerarmour didn't seem to faze the ghoul whatsoever, instead throwing an arm out, gesturing for him to come closer.

"Something to quench a thirst would be in order, as well as perhaps, if I may be so bold, a little something extra? If the gentleman would care to browse my wares..."

In what must certainly be a well rehearsed movement, Chester whipped the lid off on his mobile store, unfolded the tattered beach umbrella strapped to the side, and unbuttoning his heavy merchant's jacket. His pockets on the outside my have looked pretty full, but as he opened his coat the inside had been lined with extra pockets, straps, pouches, baggies, nets, and many more slap-dash methods of carrying as much as possible.

"Step this way! Step this way, don't be shy! Chester's Wares is open for business! A refreshment may be in stock, but something to while away those long lonely hours at your post might just be in order? Or maybe the gentleman has a lovely young lady back home? in which case I have many a-ware that she would land a thousand-and-one kisses upon your cheek to see you march over the threshold! Only at Chester's Wares will you find bargains such as these!"

 

[Neuromancer]

Black Residence: It Just Keeps Tumbling Down​

This ***** had played them, and played them well. Jonathan stood shocked as he heard her admit that she knew he was ex-enclave, and even more shocked to listen to her twist how events played out.

They had won. They had won and somehow this ***** had turned it all around. What she said meant there probably wasn't going to be much peace in Lucy's life for the foreseeable future and to top it all off, she linked her life to McGee's. The anxiety caused by the situation they were forced in caused cold sweat to run down Jonathan's cheek. though saying nothing, Jonathan was trying to think of ways to deal with all this.

Before he could, though, Lucy grabbed a knife and, after a few anguish-fuelled words, went for her eye.


As Lucy tore her eye out, in Jonathan's eyes, everything went still for what seemed to be an eternity.

He was shocked and terrified at the sight, never having expect Lucy to attempt suicide in such a way. As he stared at the young girl bleeding out in front of him, his mind completely bereft of thought from the shock, a certain feeling of dread and the sense of deja vu filled him.

Again.

Again. He had been in this situation before. Not this particular one, but a similar one. But he couldn't... he couldn't remember when, or who it was, but he felt his entire body tense up as though it had experienced this before.

To the left, standing in front of the kitchen window, stood a figure. A figure with a female shape, whose features and body we all obscured by some kind of shadow, as though swallowing whatever light was coming from the sun. Even so,Jonathan felt that this figure was grinning at him. It didn't do anything; it didn't move, instead prefering to lie there with its back against the window, nor did make any notion, being stiller that the dead.

And then, it shrugged.


And as she did, Jonathan's head exploded in pain. If not for the counter in front of him, he would have fallen on the floor face down, his minded assaulted by pain and frantically shifting images.

bandits get in get in quick shoot fire fire fire careful youll get hit theyre oh no no no theyre getting in be careful fall back quick quick quick running out of ammo shit shit shit they're getting close blood blood bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

With the colour of blood stuck in his eyes, everything went black and Jonathan fain-

No.

From the void that had engulfed his mind a stranger emerged.

Now is not the time for naps and chit-chat. You are not welcome in my room. Wake up.

As the darkness resumed to swallow everything, the stranger removed his and sunglasses and hat, revealing his face and shocking Jonathan.

Wake. Up.

Waking up in a state of almost-freefall, Jonathan regained his balance, and, taking frantic but deep breaths, remembered where he was and what was happening. #411 was standing over Lucy, with visible concern in her face.

"Please, tell me. Are you a threat to the Enclave and FalloutJack? I... I need to know."

Upon hearing those words, Jonathan went berserk, jumping over the counter with unprecedented dexterity, rushing the agent with a powerful swing, hitting her with the bottom of his pistol's grip in the face. The agent, being caught off guard by Jonathan's assault, fell on the ground.

Jonathan, not waiting for his opponent to recuperate, stomped on her stomach and pointed his gun at her face.

"Lucy Black is no threat... BUT I AM!" he yelled, hatred in his voice and murder in his eyes.

"All the Enclave's ever done... is take away. We've taken away countless lives, property, hope... Kristin has lost her sisters to us... My weapons have claimed the lives hundreds of people, and nearly the entire Capital Wasteland... Lucy... Lucy had her father and her way of life taken away from her... tortured, made to betray a friend and the one time we almost gave something back, the one time we took responsibility for our actions, here you are to take away what little measure of peace Lucy had!" He could barely hold back from shooting her, and we would have if not for her DMS.


"And for what reason do we do all this? For what reason do we deliver suffering to innocent people who just want to live their lives? For our delusions of grandeur, that's why. Chasing a dream long dead in a country long collapsed in a land that is little more than a rotting carcass of what it once were. America is dead. Whatever claim we may have had to the land has long been neutered when we decided that genocide is a better alternative to helping our people get back on their feet. And don't start with all that "protecting our way of life from those that threaten it" bullshit. We had it all coming." Forming a fist on his other hand he showcased it and started counting with his fingers.

"The oil rig? We had it coming." One. "Raven Rock? We had it coming." Two. "Adams Air Force Base? We. Had it. Coming." Three.

Noticing that the cheese on the holster of her pistol had started cracking, Jonathan grabbed it with his free hand and examined it. "Cool gun. My design."

That wasn't necessarily a lie. Jonathan had worked on improving plasma weaponry, but that didn't necessarily make this particular pistol his design, and would need to properly examine it first. Nevertheless, what he said he said in a rare attempt at intimidation.

Pointing both the guns at her, he continued: "Yes... All we've ever done is take away. Think it's time we gave something back. My name is Jonathan Aristotle McKenna." he approached her further, now being over her face, "And this is a formal declaration of war." and proceeded to stomp it.

Holstering both guns on his back, Jonathan was done with the agent. He turned to Lucy and run to her, dropping on his knees and lightly raising her head. Though the bleeding had somehow stopped, she still was in quite the bad shape.

"Oh Lucy, why?" His disposition had changed from a wrothing berseker to a sorrowful old man who was watching someone that could well have been his daughter gravely injured. Tears fell down his eyes in torrents, and he had a hard time to find words to say.

"Why do this? Why, why, why? We came back for you... W-we, we would have figured something out, why..." he was now loudly sobbing as he attempted to talk. He turned to face Kristin and begged "Please... please tell me there is something we can do. Please!"

 

[Rip Van Rabbit]

Lucy Black - ?​

"Please, tell me. Are you a threat to the Enclave and FalloutJack? I... I need to know."​

Lucy Black, now a truly one-eyed woman, was asked a question in which she was in no physical or mental state to answer. Her thoughts were muddled, her vision was terrible, her skull felt like it was lit on fire and she could barely form sounds that didn't involve groans and pained panting while she started panicking. This tremendous shock to the system had sent the former Enclave Asset in and out of consciousness, the last thing she could remember was #411 leaning over her, before passing out once more.

Although there was a faint smell, the harsh aroma stung her nostrils and she realised that something must have been burning nearby. Looking around, Lucy walked - wait...where was she? Oh that's right, she was in the basement with her dad, hunched over a workbench and and soldering parts together, another repair no less.

"D-dad?"

Isaac Black jumped for a moment, turning to face his daughter, his neat hair was slicked back as if he had gotten home from a business trip. "Lucy...what are you doing up so late? Go back to bed, sweetie."

Indeed, Lucy was tired but she hadn't seen her father in quite awhile, so she would rather take a seat next to him and fall asleep to the rhythmic noise of repair work. When she leaned against him, her father nearly stumbled over from her new size.

"Lucy, when did you get so big?"

Lucy blinked, not sure whether to pout at her own father taking a jab at her weight, or due to the fact that he seemed out of sorts.

"Also, what happened to your eye?"

Lucy blinked once more, opening her eyes to that of Thomas Shifty Mcgee hunched over the workbench instead.

"You're bleeding, Miss Loooosey Goosey!"

Sylphee declared gleefully.

"What are you doing here?"

Vikki stared at her.

"...dispatched so easily."

Jonathan McKenna held his head in shame.

"Pick yourself up, Paladin of BlamCo!"

Kristin BlamCo declared and pointed a sword at her.

"Missy Pew-Pews Cyclops Loosey Goosey! You're wasting time!"

Sylphee pouted, crossing her arms.

"As much I hate to agree with the little *****, you aren't quite finished yet, Lucy Black."

Sylph twisted her wrist to extend a hidden blade and started to charge her position.
Lucy instinctually pulled at her Gauss rifle and initiated Beast Mode, the two sisters pulled back their fists in unison and landed the most devastating of punches on one another. Grabbing each other's faces, Sylph took the initiative to bite into Lucy's wrist only for Lucy to respond with a furious headbutt.

The two sisters took a few steps back from one another, Sylph smirked as she retracted the hidden blade and chose to threateningly draw the gifted katana from it's sheath. Lucy wiped the blood from her lip and responded by drawing her plasma pistol in her free hand during the Gauss Rifle's activation phase. The two sisters charged at one another, Lucy took quick but blind shots to force Sylph into dodging. Unfortunately, Sylph was focused on dodging, but once she had closed the distance, her attacks grew increasingly telegraphed as the scene had become a spectacle of plasma fire and the flurry of a blade.

Something had to break this stalemate and it wasn't long before Sylph had suffered too many plasma burns to the arm to carry the blade, let alone hold it, yet Lucy had lost her hand to one final malicious swing. Plasma pistol and katana clattered to the floor. They deathly-duo knew that this was coming to an end.

Sylph twisted her wrist and charged at Lucy while she had raised the Gauss Rifle. Blindly, Sylph drove the blade into Lucy's stomach, twisting and stabbing repeatedly in the process. Lucy swung the Gauss Rifle as a club to bash Sylph aside, merely putting some distance between the girls. Enough distance for Lucy to hastily raise the rifle and pull the trigger, blasting off Sylph's right leg completely. The two sisters fell to the floor, blood pooling at an alarming rate from both sources. Moments later, a hand clawed it's way onto her chest and Sylph appeared face-to-face with Lucy.

"Get up and live that life that you keep talking about."

The Crimson Menace collapsed on top of the Gauss Girl, the 'sisters' settled to hold one another during their final moments together...

[hr]

Lucy Black - Springvale
"Back to your regularly scheduled melodrama!"​

Waking up was easy, being aware of her surroundings was challenging but forming words were out of the question as Lucy stirred awake. Blood had stained the floor, then again, there was blood everywhere from Lucy's position. She had caught snippets of shouting nearby, a male voice - ... Jonathan?

"- time we gave something back. My name is Jonathan Aristotle McKenna... -"

Idiot.

Wait, that was Lucy's first thought? Give her a moment, she'll explain.

Lucy, in a last-ditch effort, had attempted to frame #411 by using the Enclave weapon on herself. And not just anywhere, but on an artificial eye, one that had been given to her by the Enclave. Call it symbolism, call it desperation, call it what you wish...but an organisation that valued order would not stand for someone, Enclave or not, to abuse their position while Lucy still held her current 'untouchable' status.

Worst-case scenario, Lucy dies, losing to #411's manipulation. Yet still saving Shifty and retaining Jonathan's cover identity as 'Bob'.
Best-case scenario, #411 withdraws and suffers for her insubordination, losing to the Enclave and Lucy's risky sacrifice. Lucy gets to dance with a certain Undertaker once more.

Scratch that - ...New worst-case scenario: Lucy meaninglessly loses an eye, puts herself in peril, #411 wins and Jonathan loses his cover identity in the heat of the moment. Leaving Shifty's fate to the whims of #411.

It seemed like things weren't going well at all. Another massive understatement, coming from the one-eyed girl. And while Lucy clawed at the ground, grabbing ahold of her fallen eyepatch and trying desperately to get up, Jonathan rushed to her side, raising her head in the process and she fell forward into his shoulder.

"Oh Lucy, why?"

[small]"- ...knife, eye, frame her...keep identity...safe."[/small] Lucy whispered to Jonathan, she didn't have the power to chastise him, but hopefully she could make some of her ruined plan known. For whatever it was worth.

Kristin's armored movement could be felt from the floor and Lucy watched as the BlamCo Heiress stood between #411 and her. Obscuring her view, but ensuring a moment of privacy. It seemed that Kristin was watching her intently, picking up on signals that Jonathan had seemingly missed.

"Miss Black, have you something to say to The Unknown Third?"

Kristin took the initiative and pulled Lucy from the grip of Jonathan, now cradling the one-eyed girl in her arms. Now being steered to the recovering #411, Lucy took several moments to answer, trying to gather what little conviction she could muster in her current state. "N-no...n...no!", Lucy briefly made eye contact with #411, hopefully it would further her sincerity. "Just want - ...home. Not threat...swear..."

And Lucy trailed off as her head rolled over to face Kristin, speaking loud enough for Jonathan to hear especially. "Megaton...now. Church. Docto - Doc...stay there. R-recover...- Don't trust, eye..."

Lucy passed out once more, now overwhelmed by whatever drugs were in her system.

It's your hands now.

...

Jonathan & Kristin.​

 

[Random Fella]

Even with the exploding brahime taking out most of the bots, there were still a few attacking the caravan, it was difficult keeping them off, until suddenly a voice came from the horizon. In the midst Trixie couldn't hear quite what he said, but when he started cutting down the bots with his gatling lazer, a short relief came over her.

"WHICH ONE OF YOU HAS SOME BEER ON THEM?"
Suddenly Trixie was knocked down out of the way by the ghoul who owned the bike she had taken cover behind. He seemed to be swindling the large man heavily clad in Enclave power armor. Despite her lack in trust of the Enclave, he did just save their asses, and that was worth at least something in her mind. Many of the other traders were too afraid to approach however.

"Thanks for the assist." She said in an attempt to get his attention, then grabbing one of the few bottles of beer from her now dead brahmin and throwing it to him past the ghoul. There was no point trying to get a sale out of this guy for her, she sold weapons and various armors, something he clearly didn't need, unless a swanky hat was something he was missing.

She kept her weapon in her hands, yet pointing toward the ground, when it comes to these Enclave guys you can never be sure of their motives, or their sanity.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Arizona

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp​

It was fascinating to watch as Thomas's pale face started to flush, turning a very intriguing shade of pink as he realized just what he stepped in with what he asked earlier. Arizona was already struggling against a snicker before he finally replied.

"Huh? I... what I mean is... I... NO!"

She couldn't help but sputter before falling back onto the couch and shaking with hysterical laughter. Regardless of implications, his reaction was simply too good, too priceless for her to be offended. By the time she sat back up and her laughter was dying down into a chuckle, Thomas was already trying to come up with a better response.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be obtuse and I'm sure that you were quite the looker in your... younger years... not that you aren't now... I mean... I... ummm... what I meant was more along the lines of getting your input on Lucy, not that it matters now that she's passed... but ... I... ummm... was confused ... or rather... interested in knowing... if ... well... you know..."

"Know what? Come on, Tommy-boy, spit it out." she said, still smiling as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"It's-just-that-I've-never-been-with-a-woman-that-I-didn't-have-to-pay-for-so-I-was-wondering-if-you-thought-that-she-I-mean-Lucy-was-interested!"

She blinked at that, and her mouth slowly formed a small grimace of sympathy. For the past two centuries, she had pretty much the same problem, only she wasn't willing to pay for that particular luxury, so she knew that pain.

"Oh." she murmured softly.

The young Undertaker took a breath after that fast sentence to presumably gather his dignity and composure before he went on.

"But seeing as how you're uncomfortable with the topic, why don't you think that you've done anything heroic? You do remember the circumstances under which you hired me, right? I'd be dead if it wasn't for your actions, dead by the hands of one of Rivet City's upstanding citizens."

She shook her head and jabbed a finger at him, saying, "Oh no, you're not changing the subject that easily. You can't seriously be telling me that not a single girl has been interested in you. Maybe it's just me, but working with dead bodies for a living is hardly the worst job you can do in the Wastes, and the reasons you told me for it are borderline noble!" she pointed out, before gesturing at him with a hand wave.

"Hell, especially by Wasteland standards, you're pretty handsome. You have all your parts from what I can see, and even for a drunk you're relatively clean. What, do women not go for the 'tall, dark and mysterious' type anymore?" she asked with a small smirk, before continuing with a soft sigh, "Anyway, I can't say. I don't know this Lucy, so how would I know?"

 

[Drummodino]

Citadel Outskirts - Abandoned(?) Shack​

The sight of Sylphee spinning round and round would have been amusing to Charlie if he wasn't so concerned for the girl's wellbeing. Grabbing her by the shoulders firmly he stopped her in place, which thankfully led to her finally noticing the bloodstains on her dress.

"Oh... that?! It's nothing Mister Chucky Camden. It's not even mine, honest!..."

"If you say so..." Charlie said, not entirely satisfied with that answer. Sylphee didn't seem hurt true, but Charlie suspected that she was the type to just brush off or not even notice her injuries until they were life-threatening. His little sister Claire had been like that, she'd keep running around all day even with a rusty nail stuck in her leg. THAT particular incident had resulted in Charlie getting a stern scolding from his parents, Hell hath no fury like a housewife overly protective of her children.

Watching Sylphee rummage through her things, having easily escaped his grasp, Charlie couldn't help but think of his younger siblings. The two twins Claire and Thomas were adorable little devils, never sitting still for a moment and constantly playing pranks on Charlie and their other two siblings, Andrew and Florence.

It had been a while since Charlie had thought of his family back on the ranch. He wondered how things were going there now, hopefully less crazily than they were for him right now. He still felt a little guilt for sneaking away during the night, but he knew it was the only way he would have ever gotten away from that place.

'I'm sure they're fine, Andrew and Florence are old enough now to help Pa with the herd. Ma will keep them in line.' he thought as Sylph turned back to him with something in hand.

"No close your eyes and no peeking."

Charlie obliged, extending his hands out in front of him. When something hard yet slightly wet was pressed into them he opened his eyes to inspect his new Christmas gift. It looked some kind of shank... wait was this bone? And what was this "leather" wrapped around the hilt? Pointedly deciding NOT to think about where that had come from, Charlie looked the weapon over, smiling at the crude smiley face carved into the handle.

"Thanks Sylphee, it's great," Charlie said as he tucked the gift away into his pack. "Sorry but I don't have anything to give you... I'll pick you up something the next time we get the chance."

Despite his squeamishness, Charlie was rather touched by the gift. It was nice to have met someone out in the Wastes who not only wasn't trying to violently murder him, but also actually appeared to like him. Feeling oddly happy he looked back to Sylphee, only to notice the weeping scars on her back.

"Hey Sylphee! I knew it, you really are hurt! Hang on, let me get that medkit out." he said as he searched his pack in a panic. Grabbing it out, he turned back to the injured girl and crouched down to look her in the eye.

"Listen Sylphee, I'm gonna need you to sit still for a moment for me okay? I want to take a look at your back, it looks like you're bleeding pretty bad. Can you please do this for me?" he asked. He wasn't going to let this girl die from her own foolishness.

 

[Generic NPC 22]

The Wild Wastelands | Enclave Vault | Interrogation Room # 23
#411's Demands​

Enclave Intelligence Specialist #667 looked towards up from where he sat. He'd been watching a graph of Charlotte's Emotional Status during the fifth iteration of the story. As it had been through out the other reports that Charlotte had given, the graph was a cacophony of lines indicating a steady stream of anger seething from every pore/orifice on the woman's body. The Enclave Intelligence Specialist had given up on the torture during the last iteration of the story, his hand was now almost as bruised as Charlotte Sorrowfeld's face.

"Alright, Charlotte. I know you. I've worked under you for 5 years. I know that your hunches are seldom wrong and now you're reporting that this Bob fellow is of no threat? This doesn't add up. Repeat your report." Enclave Intelligence Specialist #667 reported, the amusement at now outranking his former superior was now lost somewhere in the repeated retellings of the sequence of events.

"No." The bruised and battered woman stated simply, looking at her former subordinate in undisguised rage.

"What?" #667 blurted out, genuinely surprised at the response that he was now being given. She'd so readily acquiesced to his orders that he didn't know what to do.

"I'm invoking Enclave Regulation #547.24.164." Former Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 stated, getting a blank look in response, "All Enclave Personnel have the right to interrogation by a ranking member of the Enclave of their choosing, Number One excluded."

"But... you're no longer a member of the Enclave... or..."

"Enclave Regulation # 124.8.546: All Terminations of Employment by the Enclave will be given to the former employee in writing. As I haven't received my termination notice yet, I'm still a member of the Enclave." Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 stated to her subordinate, "I request to be interviewed by FalloutJack."

"But prisoners are not allowed any mail or packages..."

"Your problem, not mine. FalloutJack... now... that's an order." #411 ordered as she leaned back on her chair while #667 made inquires both into the validity of #411's request and the availability of FalloutJack.

[hr]

The Wild Wasteland | 324 West Black Street (Black Residence)
#411 Sees Stars​

Enclave Intelligence Officer #411's position that she found herself in, having her head stomped in by yet another another man who'd been in the Wastelands for too long, was a familiar one. With each and every kick to her head, the Enclave Specialist saw stars and the world went wobbly. She knew that if this continued, both she and The Former Enclave Asset's friend would be dead. Part of her didn't care. She'd simply seen too much to care and just wanted to lay down and rest her eyes for an eternity or two.

~THUD~

"You stupid *****. You're mine now and if you think I'm going to listen to you say 'No! No! Please! No!' over and over again..." The Raider Leader screamed, spit dripping into her face as his boot came down once more.

~THUD~

"The oil rig? We had it coming. Raven Rock? We had it coming. Adams Air Force Base? We. Had it. Coming." Bob the Postman/Jonathan Aristotle McKenna's words reverberated in her head even as his boot came down on her face.

~THUD~

"You think anyone's going to save you? You think the NCR or the Brotherhood care about trashy bitches like you? You're a fucking dime a dozen. You'll never be worth saving you stupid little c..."

~THUD~

"All the Enclave's ever done... is take away. We've taken away countless lives, property, hope... Kristin has lost her sisters to us... My weapons have claimed the lives hundreds of people, and nearly the entire Capital Wasteland... Lucy... Lucy had her father and her way of life taken away from her... tortured, made to betray a friend..." More words... more boot.

~THUD~

"You stupid fucking cow. All you'll ever be is this, my little toy, my doll, my plaything. This is your new life..."

~THUD~

"...this is a formal declaration of war."

Those were the words that Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 needed to hear. That was all the evidence that she needed that Jonathan McKenna was a danger to the Enclave. But given her current position, she wouldn't have been able to act on the new information had she wanted to. She closed her eyes and waited for the boot to come down a final time and yet... it never came. Opening her eyes, she saw the BlamCo Heiress hovering over her. Looking at her intently before picking up the wounded Lucy Black.

"N-no...n...no!", Lucy briefly made eye contact with #411, hopefully it would further her sincerity. "Just want - ...home. Not threat...swear..."

Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 nodded ever so slightly. The Traitor would be left alone for now but there would be a time where Former Enclave Asset Lucy Black would have to repay FalloutJack for his kindness to her, the training that the Enclave had provided her and the temporary use of the Gauss Rifle Plus. But that day wasn't here yet.

Standing up slowly, #411 walked over to Lucy and checked her vitals. She would survive the self inflicted wound, not that this bothered the Enclave Intelligence Specialist. What did bother her was the wasted eye that the Enclave had bestowed upon the woman and how by cutting out that eye, Lucy Black had just cut her way out of #411's plans.

Just what were Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411's plans? Why did she bother monitoring Lucy Black, someone who had every reason to hate the Enclave and why was she gladdened with Jonathan McKenna had declared war upon her and the Enclave? #411 went to the table and sat down.

"You're right. The Enclave isn't what is should be." Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 admitted, though it pained her to so, "We impose our will upon others when we should be saving them. We kill those who do not believe what we believe when we should be assisting them by propagating our stored knowledge and sending them aid. And you look at me, someone who was born in the Wastelands and are probably wondering, if I believe this, how can I be apart of this machine that has killed so many? FalloutJack. He's the one who saved me from the Wastelands and I believe that he's the one that can save the Wasteland itself. He just needs to be pushed in the right direction."

She allowed the words to sink in. What was she proposing?

"Jonathan. What would you do to the Enclave if you had an army of Self Replicating Clones at your disposal?" #411 asked, a smile on her lips. #411 had been building an army, an army that needed weapons, "What would you do to the people that murdered Isaac Black? What would you do to save the Wastelands from the Enclave the way it is now. Would you save the Enclave and see it assume its rightful role as savior, bringers of light and hope? You have your beliefs... what would you do for them?"

Thus the whole of Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411's plan and her machinations were brought to light. She'd been planning this little coup ever so quietly. A little paperwork was all it took to assign some of Number One's staunchest supporters to Enclave Heavy Weapon's Specialist #209's B.A.R.N. They were then taken care of in Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209's own special way, not that he was aware that he was doing #411's dirty work. The news that #210 had taken up the moniker of Enclave Dominator? #411 had let that little rumor fly in the mess halls. The Sylphys had been created by Henry McGee on #411's behalf and each of them had been subliminally suggested to take Constance Sorrowfeld as their leader. All they needed was weapons. This was where Jonathan fit in.

"So Jonathan," Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 asked, "Do you want to save the Wastelands?"

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Vault Tec HQ
E.D. #209 Makes More Friends!​

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!" Enclave Heavy Weapons Special #209 laughed a laugh that was both as head jarring as it was loud, "The day a woman can drink me under the table is the day I eat a Brahmin Shit Pie! That mean's NEVER!!!"

While if could have been the truth, E.D. #209 didn't look like the type that was above shooting a drinking opponent in the throat if it looked like he was losing, or Chutes and Ladders for that matter since he'd already done that. Still he did take up the woman on her offer.

"Alright, alright. I'll keep you guys outta my beef with these name stealing pussies! But after that, we drink! Unless you die. Then I'll drink!" Enclave Dominator #209 said as the bulk of the Brahmin finally reached the front door of Vault Tec HQ, "Hey! #210! BAIIIIII!!!"

~Click!~

~BEEP BEEEP BEEEP~

A plasma grenade was tossed towards the Vault Tec HQ front doors and a reenactment of what it must have looked like the day the bombs fell took place right in front of Vault Tec HQ took place as one Boombastic Brahmin after another exploded, wiping out the Faux-Enclave Dominators right off the map. With that little mess taken care of, it seemed like it was...

"DRINK TIME!!! C'MON BOYS!!!" Enclave Heavy Weapons Specialist #209 yelled to his other compatriots, #556, #762 and #309. The others gave a half-hearted yell of approval as they tried to remove the Brahmin Entrails from their armor.

"Thanks for the assist." Another voice said from the direction of the Caravan before a beer bottle smashed against #209's helmet, wasting perfectly good beer, not that #209 would have minded since this was the second woman that he'd met in the last few months since being assigned to the B.A.R.N.

"You're quite welcome, Miss... whomever you are. It is Miss right?" #209 said thinking that he'd have to talk to the ghoul later and talk to him about his wares that would land him One Thousand and One kisses. Of course there was still the matter of the beer drinking.

"You'll be joining me and your associate for a beer, right?" #209 asked, gesturing towards the woman who had hit him with a wrench.

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | Ruined Skyscraper Camp
Huh?​

Dignity? Shredded. Clothing? Shredded. Composure? Shredded. Ability to talk? Almost non-existent. Still Thomas had been through much worse than what he was going through and his dignity could use a bit more abuse before being sent back into that dark hole that it had called home since he'd found out that he was still alive. He was a bit taken aback by Arizona's compliment however since not very many people had bothered to give him one save one or two people.

"Yeah. About that, it seems that it doesn't matter what you look like or the reason for your work, noble or ignoble, working with corpses is still working with corpses. If it's one thing that technological advancement hasn't brought, it's the banishment of superstition. Most people think that I'm a sign that they're about to meet their bitter end, that death is immanent. It's very hard to share an intimate moment with someone you care about when you're a reminder of someone's mortality." Shifty stated rather in a rather solemn-bordering-on-depression sort of tone.

She did have a point, however, without knowledge of Lucy, Arizona could hardly make a well judged statement as to Lucy's feelings. There was the fact of the point being rendered moot by Lucy's passing.

"Of course, you're right, Arizona. Without knowing her, you're hardly in a position to judge her mental or emotion state. Which brings us to the closure of this topic. Of course, that doesn't mean that one of your status doesn't hold a few stories of her own. For one, we could start with the reason that we're traveling to Dunwich. As far as I know it's home to your... less polite kin. I'm not sure if you and they get along but I know that they and I have not had the pleasure of sitting down for a drink and telling stories surrounding ourselves nor have I had the pleasure of asking for their advice on personal matters. I believe that they have a problem with solicitors." Meaning either Thomas truly had no idea why Feral Ghouls tried to kill him or he was drunk and forgot why the Feral Ghouls had tried to kill him.

[hr]

The Wild Wastelands | The Battle for Super Duper Mart
Constance has Technical Issues​

Well this was a mighty awesome surprise for the American Enclave Scout of America. It seemed that her new traveling companion was able to speak something other than "Woof" or "Sylphy" which made for better conversation. After her initial shock at not only meeting a bonafide talking, gun toting augmented Husky, the young girl smiled a rather large smile, one that could have been seen from space.

The smile didn't last long however as she realized that something was wrong. It seemed that Gary King had damaged one of Constance's cat like ears, the ones that gave her the ability to see via echolocation. In short, she was actually blind and this was an actual problem.

This meant that Constance couldn't actually continue to fight in the Battle for Super Duper Mart, not that she was needed anymore since it looked like the Sylphys had the battle well in hand, the last wave of reinforcements combined with the loss of Gary King was the nail in the coffin so far as the Garys were concerned.

"Ummm... Mister Rufio? It looks like you'll have to escort me away from here since I can't see anything anymore." Constance said as she fumbled through her sack and pulled out a small device and pushed the rather large button on it.

"Locating nearest repair capable Enclave Unit.  Unit Located.  Enclave Intelligence Specialist #411 located in Springvale"

The beacon stated.

"Springvale? That's not too far from here. Do you think you could take me there Mister Rufio?"

[hr]

The Wildestest Wastedlands | Abandoned Shack
Sylphee's Scars​

"Nu-nooo! No touchy! No touchy! No touchy! No touchy!" Sylphee yelled as Mister Chucky Camden tried grabbed the Wounded Warrior of the Wastelands and placed her on her chest, determined to treat the wounds on the young woman's back, "I'm not hurt, Mister Chucky Camden! No! Stop it! No touchy!!!!"

The struggling continued for a time until Sylphee passed out from either exhaustion or blood loss, neither being fatal in the case of the Wasteland's most lovable psychopath. As Mister Chucky Camden pulled up the back of Sylphee's uniform, he might have been horrified by what he saw.

There was a patchwork of scars that crisscrossed Sylphee's back. While some looked like simple scrapes, others looked like burns, cuts. The huge majority of the scars, however, appeared to have been made by a whip of some sort. It was a relatively fresh looking shrapnel wound that had been the source of the bleeding.

"Father told me that discipline was good for me." A voice said from somewhere around Sylph's head, it seemed that Sylph had come back as her choker lay next to her neck, the clasp having popped open due to Sylphee's struggling.

 

[Drummodino]

Abandoned Shack​

Charlie ignored Sylphee's yells and thrashing as he held her down, using his greater weight to keep her face down on the floor. The sight of her mutilated back caused him to hiss through his teeth, what kind of torture had this poor girl been through? Anger and sadness battled within him as he took a soft cloth from the medkit and gently wiped the blood away from the fresh wound. Charlie had seen enough of these to know it was a shrapnel wound, thankfully only minor debris was lodged in there. That would be easy enough to remove, the more pressing concern was to stop the bleeding.

"Father told me that discipline was good for me."

Now that the girl had stopped struggling it was much easier to tend to her. Charlie glanced at her head and noted the choker lying on the ground next to her. Continuing to clean her back he spoke in a voice trembling slightly in rage.

"I take it I'm speaking to Sylph now?" he asked as he put the cloth down and grabbed some tweezers, gauze, antiseptic and surgical tape. "Now this will hurt a little," he continued "but I'm going to get these little bits of shrapnel out of your back and treat it with antiseptic. Please try and stay still."

As delicately as he could, Charlie plucked the little pieces of metal out of the wound with the tweezers. Setting them aside he wiped the area down with the antiseptic before placing the gauze over the wound as more blood oozed out of it, taping it down securely.

"There we go, that should be alright for now. We'll need to change the dressing eventually though." He gently pulled Sylph's clothes up to cover her scars before turning around and fishing a stimpack out.

"Would you like one of these? Normally I wouldn't hesitate but your... other half... didn't seem to fond of 'Mister Prickly Needle'. Is that because... because of those other scars on your back?" he asked hesitantly.