Stan sighed slightly as Wayne immediately opened fire, but shrugged. The plebs had already let him through one, it was doubtful they would again.
Stan drew his revolver, and blankly fired it at a raider. He went down.
Nobody was more surprised than Stan.
He fired twice more, missing once and dropping another, then ducked under cover, when the raiders got organized enough to mount a serious counterattack.
Which, in true raider style, was nothing more than a hail of bullets fired independently. Raiders: not the most organized fighters in the wastes.
Stan just stayed under cover, reloading. Wayne would more likely than not kill the rest. Stan hoped. With the bigass crab not far from them, this needed to be a very speedy fight.
"Crawver. Time gets to me wondering why I always head this journal with my name. I know who I am. Don't you know who I am? I'm a physician, though not on a mission. I'm a country doctor, far country doctor. Do I know who I am? I do, but do you? Who is here to question who I am? To offer me some token reassurance? A cadre of jabbering ninnies, an uber-jabbering ninny, and a cow. And perhaps it is she that offers me the most, simply by not talking back. But enough of this proselytising; you know all this already, don't you, journal?"
"I shan't deny that our group has experienced something of a collective vision; and that's all it was, a vision. A collective vision, undeniably; no fever-dream or hallucination brought on by exposure and brain-fever; but a vision nonetheless. Stranger things have happened; Abraham's recounting them all the time. Now let me make it positively clear; as a physician, I am a devotee to the empirical way of thought. Evidence, evidence, evidence. Is there evidence to support the reality of this vision? No, of course there isn't. But...the phenomena of our experience cannot be denied either. I have conducted a thorough survey of our group, and each of the glowing men, the red man; lord, even Abraham; all recount the same images. Not similar, the same, the exact same. The 'Wet One' and the towering serpent. I suppose if Udders could speak, she'd have remembered much the same. But she doesn't; perhaps that is a mercy, bless her."
"It must be admitted, the whole experience makes me want to crawl inside my blubber and hide until this whole business is past; I was not brought into this world to question it, I am a simple creature of the ice. At least, that's what I was; I shan't venture into what..."he"...desired in his experiments and his enhancement of my mind; but damn it! This creature shan't be forced out! That would be most unbecoming."
"..."
"Anyway, in order to establish some understanding of the schism that has developed in our 'congregation', I've set up an interview with one of them. Much as it's unfair to dismiss them as such, they all seem to be interchangeable anyway. Is that unfair? Until they prove otherwise, then it'll be unfair."
"Now then, uh, I'm going to be asking you some questions, some of them may seem strange to you; but it's important that I have my answers, do you understand?"
'Wet One, understanding flows through me like the pure water through your vein and your word.'
"Uhm...yes. Yes alright. Now then, what is your name; you do have a name, don't you?"
'In your presence, Wet One, names are like trinkets; alluring to the unenlightened, but ultimately to be discarded. I, my brothers and my sisters once slaved for trinkets, but lo! We heard the good news, and we threw them to the wind, with the trinkets that had before become the means and the end of our existences."
"...oh. Uh...hm. Where do you come from, exactly?"
'Oh but Wet One, of what importance is the journey, when the destination has been reached?'
"...This is going to be a long day, isn't it?"
'Each day is a blessing, dictated by you, Wet One.'
Johnny ignored the two robots and the cold ***** to take a closer look at the fallen turbine.
"Hmm..." he said, thinking to himself out loud, "Looks functional. Could salvage much of it. Think it was purely decorative before. Though... someone in town might be willing to pay to have it fixed. Hmm..." Johnny turned his gaze up at where the turbine had been, "Well, that's just fucking great."
He nudged Beryl and Sylph, then pointed at the turbine's former perch, "This looks like sabotage. The turbine came off too cleanly for it to just be the usual wear and tear. Hmm... better be careful. I heard some goon of Tenpenny's wants to burn this place to the ground. Fucking nut."
Then he shot Beryl a glare, "Don't even think about it, *****."
Wayne peered around the corner of the dumpster and quickly shot back when a bullet ricocheted off it's side, narrowly missing him. He didn't have time to mess around, all that weaponry being fired at the nukezilla was bound to send the buildings around him crumbling down. He pulled off his hat and held it out towards the edge of the dumpster again, as soon as he felt a bullet pass through the hat he jumped up, 10mm pistol in hand and fired at the raider who had decided to stand in the open. Four rapid shots and he was down, Stan had taken out another two, leaving just one who had decided running was better than gunning. Wayne threw on his hat, pulled up his rifle and shot him square in the back, probably not a kill shot but effective enough to ensure he wouldn't be a problem for him, or anybody else later on.
No sooner had the raider hit the floor than a bright yellow flash came from down the road, past the alleyway, followed by a roar from the beast. Next the building began to collapse beside him, sending debris raining into the alley. Wayne turned to Stan, 'MOOOOVVVEEEE!' He yelled, trying to beat the deafening sounds around him as he began running for his life down the alley, dodging chunks of concrete as they fell.
From the red-dress-clad 18 year old's perspective, the jet engine falling off of its mounts and crashing onto the ground was perfectly normal, weird since they would have to remount it every time they opened the gates to Megaton, but perfectly normal, especially since she had never ever been there.
"Hey Mister Johnny Shakes! Hey Miss Meryl Barrel! I'm going inside okay?" Sylph called out, waving her arms in the air wildly before running inside, pausing only long enough to take in her first look at the famed walled town.
"OHMYGOSH!" The girl exclaimed as she spotted the giant nuclear bomb that was firmly planted in a puddle in the middle of the town, complete with people worshiping it.
"OHMYGOSH!" The girl exclaimed once again as she spotted the various leaking pipes, but boy did those leaking pipes look fun to play with, that brought water to the citizens of Megaton.
"OHMYGOSH!" - Yeah she spotted Crater Side Supply.
"OHMY-owwww" Sylph started to say before she was interrupted by a loud growl that came from the pit of her stomach. It was feeding time and her tummy asked forDEMANDED sustenance.
Looking around, it seemed that her choices were rather limited. There was someplace called the Brass Lantern, which our manic girl assumed served food of some sort by the way it smelled and there was Moriarty's Saloon.
"(What did Mister Johnny Shakes say? Go to Moriarty's? OKAY!)" Sylphee thought to herself as she traipsed her way towards the Saloon, humming a tune to herself as she did.
"Jingle-ingle-ingle!" Said an unnamed bell as the red dressed girl entered the building and spotted a woman, a ghoulified barkeep and a grey haired man.
"Hey Mister! Mister! Hey Mister! Hey hey! Are you Mister Moriarty?"
"DON'T HIT ME!" Screeched the ghoulified barkeep who was obviously not Moriarty, hiding behind his station behind the bar.
"Hey Miss! Miss! Mis-"
"No. Not even if you paid me 10000 caps." Miss Nubile Nova said eyeing the blue haired girl who was giving Miss Nubile Nova a questioning look. That left only one person left in the Saloon who could have been Mister Moriarty.
"Hey Mister! Mister! Hey Mister!"
"YOU GONNA HIT ME?!?"
"Little Missy, are you looking for Moriarty because if you are, lass, you've found your man." Said a voice from behind our dressy little heroine.
Looking behind her, she saw that the grey hair man was speaking to her and giving her a look that made Sylphee feel like she was some sort of fruit that had a rind that someone could peel the rind off of and get to the juicy juicy fruit underneath.
"Hi! Mister Info-matic Moriarty! I got questions! Like, do you have Rad Scorpion Meat and do you have something to drink because I'm real thirsty and I'm looking for someone and -." The girl rambled, as Moriarty blocked out words that were thrown in his general direction. Instead he was looking at the little miss up and down, getting an appraisal on whether she was worth any money (either on her or over at Paradise Falls).
"Well lass. You've come to the right place. Why don't you come with me and we can discuss this information that you need." His Irish voice said as the man lead the young girl up towards a room, locking the door behind the two of them.
Johnny blinked as Sylph zoomed ahead of them. He heard her mention something about Moriarty and that was enough to set Johnny running right after the bubble of curiosity. Goddamnit. Just what we need. That son of a Beryl had better not try anything.
Johnny made it just in time to see Sylph glide into a back room with Moriarty... and to see the slippery bastard lock the door behind them. FUCK!(1)
Johnny knew the layout of this place, so he doubled back and ran to the other side of the building and forced open the backdoor into the room, slamming the door in Moriarty's face in the process. Then he got his rifle out and pointed it at Moriarty.
"Stay away from her you piece of shit!" he growled at the wannabe Irishman. Then, more calmly, more sweetly, he said to Sylph, "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
Lude came in whistling, "Hey man, what the fuck are you doing?"
Then Lude noticed the locked door on the other side of the room, then Moriarty.
"Ah," then he shot the most intimidating scowl he could manage at Moriarty.
(1)And Johnny wonders why Sylph acts like he's her parent. Hmmph. -Ed.
"Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" Asked Mister Truant, though perhaps the question should have been aimed at Moriarty more than Sylph.
Let us describe the scene upon which Mister Truant burst upon so haphazardly. Upon initial glance you would one might have started blushed for there upon Moriarty's bed was the very man upon which the establishment had been named, his hands tied above his head to the bed frame be a red ribbon, one that looked quite familiar to anyone who had been paying attention to the ribbons upon which our lass Sylph had been using to keep her hair in those two ponytails. Mounted on top of him was the very girl that Mister Truant was seeking to save, the red dress slightly off her shoulders, a smile on her face, her neck devoid of the choker that usually graced it.
Yes, this was not the scene that a father figure wanted to walk into when it involved his surrogate daughter unless of course he were to take a second glance at the scene.
Moriarty was the one who had the look of panic in his eyes. Not only because there was a ribbon wound tightly around his throat, constricting his airways enough to his eyes seemed to bulge out his head, there was a a flash of silver that joined the proprietor's shoulder to the bed frame, a slim wrist mounted spring blade, Mister Truant would later recall. Finally, and this was most likely the most important thing to note.
Mister Moriarty's N99 10mm pistol was pointed in Mister Truant's face, held not by Mister Moriarty who was rather incapable of holding such a weapon given his current condition but rather in the left had of the young woman who was straddling him with a blade that went all the way into the frame of the bed.
"I'm quite alright Mister Truant, but you will not be if you continue to interrupt my conversation with Colin Moriarty, here." A cold voice said, coming from the direction of our girl Sylph.
"If you'd like live another day, doing whatever chemical agents you can get your hands on, I suggest you take your rifle and point it at something non-essential on Mister Moriarty's anatomy. As I said, I was in the middle of a very interesting conversation with this fine entrepreneur." Looking at the girl, she no longer seemed to be the Sylph that Mister Truant recognized, even her eyes had gone from a sky blue to a stormy grey color as she twisted the blade in the Saloon Proprietor's shoulder, drawing a pained groan from its victim.
Any positive feelings Beryl had on reaching Megaton were destroyed by Johnny.
"I heard some goon of Tenpenny's wants to burn this place to the ground...Don't even think about it, *****," he had said to her. This was highly unfair. That wasn't her plan at all, but now that Johnny had made an issue of it, she began considering the option.
Before she had taken two steps, Sylph was already racing towards Moriarty's.
She sighed and followed on behind. Moriarty was the worst sort of bugger, but at least his mind went straight to the most predictable and appreciable places; Those regarding profit. By the time she had arrived in the saloon, Beryl could hear a commotion going on in the back room. The door was locked. Of course. She turned and looked into the eyes of the Ghoul bartender, who nervously gestured with his own towards the back door. Beryl nodded and walked out around the back of the saloon.
By the time she had shoved her way into the back room, the scene had taken its turn towards the bizarre. She took one look at the cold, unlimbered Sylph, who appeared to be strangle fucking the life out of the saloon's proprietor.
"I can't take you people anywhere," she said, eyes widening. "Now what the hell is all this about? Moriarty, you explain first."
Twisting the blade one more time, the blue haired girl smiled down at her victim before turning her stormy gaze towards the typically grumpy older woman who was the last to enter the room.
"Surgical extraction. Mister Moriarty here has some information that I need and he thought it would be fun to play Doctor in exchange for said information." Sylph said with a smirk on her lips before turning back to coo at Mister Moriarty. "This is really fun isn't it, Colin?"
Another twist of the blade elicited another pained groan from the Saloon's namesake and proprietor and another yank of the ribbon cut off the Mister Moriarty's yelp before it became too loud.
"Now, Colin," The girl cooed as gently as a lover would, "Tell me, have you seen the man that I'm looking for - the Undertaker - the man who shot my daddy in the head?"
[small]"Yu-Yu-YES!"[/small] The pinned man responded, tears flowing freely down his face, as the Sylph eased up on the ribbon a bit so that Mister Moriarty could respond.
"Then. Tell. Me. Everything. Or. I'll. Kill. You." The blue haired girl ordered slowly, her words promising a long and agonizing death should he not comply.
"Citadel. He went to the bloody Citadel. That's all I fuckin' know. Now let me go." The Saloon's owner begged.
"Okay." Sylph said, still smiling as she retracted the blade back into the sleeve of her dress. Standing up and looking at her traveling companions, there was a mighty THUD as the girl kicked the Bar owner's face with a combat boot, sending bits of teeth flying.
"Well I feel all sorts of better now." Sylph smiled cheerfully at Mister Truant and Miss Craw as she started straightening out her clothing and her hair.
"Oh and tell that ***** retard Sylph that she's buying the first round of drinks." The girl in red said as she pulled the choker tight around her neck and locked the clasp.
The girl stood motionless for a moment before sky blue eyes regarded the pair that stood in front of her.
"Hi Mister Johnny Shakes! Hi Missus Meryl Barrel! What are we doing in this room?"
Johnny stared at Sylph for several moments, then blinked at Beryl.
What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?
Without a word, he went into the bar, and grabbed a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, when the ghoul tried to stop him, Johnny just said "Moriarty said it was on the house." Figuring the sleazy fuck was not in a position to argue.
Johnny didn't bother with a glass, he just started drinking straight out of the bottle. After getting halfway through it, he fished out three jet inhalers, and went through all of them before finishing the vodka. Then he proceeded to bang his head on the bar for several minutes, occasionally muttering 'why me?'
And then, the darkness in the edges of the room started to coalesce. Despite his heavily inebriated state, Mr. Truant sat straight up, and bundled his arms together, shivering as the room got colder, much, much colder. Although the bar had descended into absolute pitch blackness, there seemed to be... shapes in the darkness. No, not the patrons, not the ghoul tending the bar, not even Johnny... but... others. And no matter where you stood in the room, no matter how good your 'view' of the room's normal layout might be... there was always the sense that, there was something just outside the edges of your peripheral vision. Maybe it was behind you, maybe it was to the side of you, maybe it was right in front of you, but still impossible to completely make out... nonetheless, it was there, and it was hungry. It was as though your deepest, darkest fear was coming alive before your eyes, given a vague but very definite shape, and yet... you just knew that there was something worse right behind you, breathing down your neck, sending blasts of cold air down your neck, teasing your spine with... something brushing your back. Was it a hand? A tendril? A claw? You can't be sure. But there was definitely something there, even if it seems to vanish the moment you take a look.
And in that moment, you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this resolute darkness is capable of anything. Of murdering Old Man Zampano, of murdering Mr. Truant, Sylph, Beryl, et al, even of murdering you, dear poster. And then, the moment passes, the darkness recedes back into the shadows it had been a minute ago, the shapes disappear, that... presence is... absent, for the moment. The thing becomes only a thing, and you move on. -Ed
Beryl continued to stare at Sylph for a full minute or so. She ignored Sylph's questions, and simply gestured for her to follow her, out of the upturned room and away from the crippled Mr Moriarty. She couldn't understand what Sylph really was, but Beryl knew that as long as this girl was around, she would be a terrible liability; a time bomb that didn't so much tick, as cluck like a chicken and bounce around the room. She wanted to reach for her gun and end this girl there and then, and she would have done too, but Beryl's instincts told her she'd be dead in a second if she were to even try. Arms length, she told herself, Always at arms length.
Finally, Beryl had reached the bar with the psychotic hellian in tow. She ignored Johnny, who had already gone to what would have been his happy place if it didn't involve so much head butting. She envied him.
Once she was a safe distance away, Beryl opened her mouth. "You're buying the drinks," she said to Syplh, "...you ***** retard."
"Three fingers of whiskey," she said to the Ghoul, without taking her eyes off of the girl.
Crabs now? Giant mutants, giant horses and now giant goddamn crabs. What the hell are the putting in the water around here? Such musings would have to wait til later though.
Marlon behaved much as he'd done in their prior encounters, finding a vantage point and taking aim. In this case he chose a place on the battlement a bit further removed from many of the others already firing back and as far to the flank that would still allow him a decent shot as possible. That way, the fire from the others should hopefully serve to keep the giant glowing freak occupied.
Between lasers and gauss shots dealing with the creature's legs and the...rider? The enclave have crabs now. Crabs. Goddamnit. Another great development on a long list of reasons to get this all over with as soon as possible. In any case, the legs and rider recieving plenty of attention, Marlon started to unload as much firepower as he could into the "elbow" joint of the the giant lurk. Whether or not it was worth the effort remained to be seen, but the way he figured, if he could damage, melt or otherwise mess the joint, preferably by eating through enough to sever it and throw the freak off balance, then all the better. Besides, if those legs gave out it'd be on the ground and one claw functioning at less than its usual power would be a good start when it came to finishing it off.
For the life of her, Sylphee couldn't understand why everyone was looking at her so strangely. Mister Johnny Shakes had run out of the room in a manner that made the girl quite concerned as to whether or not he was coming down with some sort of illness, possibly Wasteland Fever, and Missus Meryl Barrel was looking at her as if she had done something really really wrong.
Following Missus Meryl Barrel as she had been instructed to do so, the blue haired double ponytailed girl couldn't help but catch a glance at the white haired man on the bed, Mister Mouthy Moriarty and feel a little concerned at the man's health. He had been rather nice to her and had offered to help her with some nice Rad Scorpion Meat and something else that she had forgotten.
"(I thought I needed to talk to Mister Mouthy Moriarty about something else but I forget! I hope it wasn't importa-)" The just turned 18 year old's thoughts were interrupted by Missus Meryl Barrel's voice.
"...you ***** retard." concluded Miss Meryl Barrel's sentence and from where our little girl in red was seated it had an effect like a bullet as her eyes suddenly rolled up into her head and she suddenly fell off the bar stool.
*THUD*
This - This isn't the normal sort of reaction that you're used to seeing out of our little space cadet is it? Well to be honest even I was surprised when it happened but there's a perfectly good explanation for why it happened, I promise, I swear, just bear with me okay?
As you, the reader, probably have already realized if you've been following the Madcap Hi Jinx of Sylph (Wasteland Space Cadet), there's two sides to our happy go lucky, ever smiling, ever happy, adorably lucky, don't take the choker off her neck please please please, just turned legal blue haired girl. There's the one side that probably would cause most people to grate their teeth into dust and there's the other side that probably would make other people shit themselves in fear if they spent a minute inside her mind as she plotted the next way she could relieve her annoyance at being self aware while Space Sylph had control of their body. What you might not be aware of is the reason why a person would be trained to be violent when a certain article of clothing has been removed. Enter the choker.
If you were to look at our bipolar girl the same way you look at a guard dog, you don't always want the guard dog to be on attack mode. So you create a method in which you repress her violent urges. You train her to react accordingly to certain stimuli. Of course, the training doesn't end with attack and don't attack. You have to have other commands like: "...you ***** retard."
Just what would that command do? Well, Missus Meryl Barrel was about to find out.
Blue eyes opened and gazed up at the ceiling for a moment before the girl in red picked herself up and placed her butt back in the bar stool. Sylphee sat silently for a moment as if deep in thought before looking at Missus Meryl Barrel or should I say:
"Mommy Meryl Barrel? What happened?" The girl asked as she smiled at her new mommy.
"Mommy Meryl Barrel? What happened?" The girl asked as she smiled at her new mommy.
"Oh god," Johnny said before downing five mentats, "Are you okay there, kid?"
Johnny struggled to keep himself from shaking, both from the recent horror that had once again plagued him, and Sylph calling the cold ***** 'mommy.' Just when Johnny thought he couldn't have gained any more nightmares in his life, well... you know. Johnny started poking around behind the bar again before his heavily assaulted brain cells finally made a connection and realized something that had been bothering him.
"Hey," he growled at Beryl, "what the hell is wrong with you? Where do you get off calling that sweetheart(1) a 'retard *****'? If anyone's a ***** around here, it's you."
(1)Mr. Truant has a habit of instantly forgetting things he doesn't want to remember... well... sometimes. Don't look at me. It's not like I'm in his head pulling strings.-Ed
Sylph's response utterly confused Beryl. But then that always seemed to be the case. Luckily, it was a gentle enough reaction for Beryl to risk devoting some attention towards whatever else was going on in the bar, like Johnny calling her a ***** just now.
"You'd better watch that fucking mouth of yours Johnny," Beryl said, wagging one finger and tapping her gun with another, "I've had just about enough shenanigans for one day."
Truth be told, a confrontation with Mr Truant was the least of her problems right now, but she could hardly do with getting into a fight with a druggie when the World's most deadly thing in a red dress was standing within jumping distance.
"If you can keep it together, I'd save your scorn for that 'sweetheart' over there. She's the real threat. And speaking of the sweetheart..." Beryl turned back towards the young lady, "just what the hell is going on here? One minute you're an atomic powered pinball machine, the other you're Butcher Pete. Care to explain that?"
"If you can keep it together, I'd save your scorn for that 'sweetheart' over there. She's the real threat."
"So your solution is to bully a dragon?" Johnny said, crossing his arms, "If what you say is true, then... do you have a deathwish or are you just an idiot? If you're really that scared of her, try being nice for a change."
Johnny dropped his arms, and clenched his fists. This gesture was partially hidden from Beryl, as he was still behind the bar at the moment. But his clenching teeth were not. Let's just say that Johnny does not tolerate what he sees as child abuse. The more he thought about how he had seen Beryl treat Sylph, and the more he thought she must have been treating the young girl... the angrier Johnny got. When it got to a boiling point, Johnny breathed deeply a few times, and forced himself to calm down.
"Just try it," he told Beryl, "Try being nicer to people. Might be surprised how much more willing they might be to help you."(1)
"And," he continued, leaning on the bar, "If you be nicer to her, I'll do the same for you."
(1)That's rich. Coming from a drug-addict, a womanizer, a crackpot, a thief, and a one-time blackout rapist/murderer... I'm sure that means a lot. -Ed.
After William had put on the clothing that the man had been wearing, he walked along a hallway to gain deeper entry into the substation. However, as he headed there, there was the sound of a door opening from what looked like a big elevator. A voice spoke out.
"Hey, what're you doing out of uniform?"
Huh?! Wait, he was in Enclave clothing and...and... Oh my, but that was a tough-looking Tesla Soldier, one with white-glowing highlights on his armor.
FAVORED EQUIPMENT: E-Cycle (Transport), Tools and Parts, Big Book of Science
FAVORED SKILLS: Science/Computers, Energy Weapons, Melee, Agility, Repair
BACKGROUND: Greg is one of those hybrid types, a clever science whiz with a penchant for excitement. He is charged up by messing with anything that has a charge. It's not surprising that he would become an Enclave Tesla Soldier after much studying and tinkering. He belongs technically to the Enclave science division, but is found messing with the power systems more than experimenting or inventing. He's the organization's personal 'Elecman', in a way, having risen to heights measurable only in megavolts and kilowatts. There are rumors that he is a bit crazy, but really it's that he's impatient and irritable when things aren't going fast enough for his liking.
The soldier walked towards William with his hands out in an exasperated gesture.
FalloutGreg: I keep telling you newb-meisters... 'Uniform' means 'armor', not that outdated officer crap. Settle...into metal! Now, get in that locker room and suit up, pronto! I've got work to do and so do you!
He's probably lucky John isn't here. That guy would've spotted the bomb collar right off. Anyway, let's get back to our boys who just got labeled in the same way as Lucy Black. Dudley was making cracks about the number assignments and who's in charge. That was when Jack decided to burst his bubble.
FalloutJack: Oh right, like I'm going to leave Barf Lad in charge. FYI, boyo, the numbers are just numbers. The only number with any seniority around here is Number One. Asset-19, I charge you with looking after this guy and...getting him another bath. Your assignments will otherwise be to find out where the the Heads - the local raiders - have gone and to discover what the ghouls are doing back east. Something about them and all this pure rain is a bit...worrying.
Evan: Why? It's a miracle of nature. I thought it'd be pure acid, or highly-toxic.
FalloutJack: That's just it. It should've been toxic. It's not. So...who's causing it? And why? That's what we need to know.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Dr. Crawver's inability to get much sense out of the congregation would undoubtedly cause him a few headaches, but they seemed to be well-disposed enough towards his own party. Frankly, he would have a better chance of getting anything relevent out of the glowing Red Guy than anything else. The rest of them were zealots whose minds had been pierced by visions of all things Wet. Their chants of "The water flows through all and the Wet Ones shall rule!" made this clear. The Red Guy, of course, was this delirious Glowing One who spouted something between gibberish and some perceived past where he was a military commander of some sort. And then, along their travels, it happened.
Super Mutant: Hey you, ghouls! Stop right there, or it's bullet time! HAH HAH HAH!!
Over a hill came a group of super mutants in immprovised armor with assault rifles. That was when the Red Guy...uhhh...vaporized the leader with a death ray... [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0nb1n37D1s] The other super mutants looked at the smoking boots in shock, then back at the ghouls...who were slowly approaching them with knives, tools, and wires.
"The great brutes of the land shall serve the Wet Ones for all time. So sayeth the lore!"
"Hey prisoner, You're getting off for good behavior"
The guards outside had been taken care of and the room had gone dark. Then, as the door opened, the man behind the hockey mask grinned broadly as he saw who it was that had decided to get him out. FalloutBob laughed.
FalloutBob: Barry, buddy! I didn't think ya had it in you. That certainly makes my job easier, but I gotta tell you...I had my own plans.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deep within the Enclave Super-Vault, miles below the surface of the world, there was a lab. And inside of this lab - among other armored scientists - was Doctor-18, one of the best and brightest, a woman involved in the affairs of the Fallout Sector R&D. She had called in FalloutBob as she had the others, in turn. She had done so for the Emergency Protocol Program that Number One had ordered her to work on.
FalloutBob: Hello, Doc-Lady. How can Bob be of service today?
Doctor-18: You can get these installed in your mouth via autodoc immediately.
She held out a pair of fake wisdom teeth. Bob took them and then looked at her.
FalloutBob: You know cyanide capsules don't even work, right?
Doctor-18: They're not cyanide. I was ordered to develop something for each of the Fallout Sector in case of emergency, a final option in case your talents and weapons won't suffice, and I had them implanted on the body somehow to make sure it couldn't be taken away. Yours is the easiest, a pair of pills inside that-
FalloutBob: NO WAY! FalloutBob is a clean-living apocalypse of manliness! He does not take drugs!
Doctor-18: FalloutBob follows orders, does he not?
FalloutBob: Well...yeah...
Doctor-18: Put the fucking teeth in. You can argue and rehab all you want later, but for now you must take this one concession.
FalloutBob: Alright, fine...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There would be an audible crunch sound as two wisdom teeth (fakes) broke and FalloutBob swallowed the pills. What were they? Well...
FalloutBob: BOB SMAAAAAAAASH!!!
BUFFOUT!! Bob snapped a number of the chains and landed on the ground, pushing past Barry to pick up one of the laser guns and rip the DOOR off the hinges. He then ran down the hallway with a growl, slamming into a few more guards with the door and shooting them up. His eyes were ablaze and his body naked aside from the numerous chains and hockey mask adorning his face.
FalloutBob: BE STILL, MY DOGS OF WAR...
He ran off to go find his equipment, and woe be to anyone in his way!
Niko Renzo was riding from the Nuka Cola factory with his sights set on the giant monster. That creature was the cause of his employer's mental breakdown, and it was going to pay. He'd gotten the bike after an argument with the owner ended in three Enclave suits conking him out with a Super Sledge and dragging him off. Niko having the energy cells to work with, he recharged the cycle and got a'going. The battle against FalloutDavid and Nukezillla was, in the meantime, in full swing. BoS soldiers along with several others were trying to blast it at all points they good to disable or kill it...with varying results. They'd managed to remove David's means of immediate control by removing his grappler hooks, but the monster was already HERE and it had gotten mad. In response to the direct attack on his own person, FalloutDavid used his stealth system to go invisible and draw out his sniper rifle. There, he started firing off at several of the targets he could find. Soldiers were going down and...if you could listen closely...he appeared to be on his radio? Yes, David Davidson was largely ignoring everyone else except to shoot at them while talking to someone MILES AWAY.
FalloutDavid: Oh, hey there, doctor! Did you see the big prize I found?
Doctor-18: I heard about the giant crab. Could you take it in for me?
FalloutDavid: Can't be done, I'm afraid. It is now the personal property of the Empire of Dave, meaning I get to ride him wherever I like.
Doctor-18: That creature is too important to science to waste on a fight with the Brotherhood.
FalloutDavid: Sorry, but you know Number One's policies. No mutants allowed in the labs!
Doctor-18: *Sigh* You soldiers really irritate me sometimes...
FallloutDavid: Them's the breaks, lady. Ciao!
It was about this time that Nukazilla panned another Nuka Cola Quantum blast all over the place, surrounding itself in blue and starting to heal up again. But that wasn't all... From its shell-places, it unloaded a number of...pellets? Uhh, no. Try again. Oh crap, they're growing bigger, and fast too! Rapidly-growing Nukalurks! Dozens of them! FalloutDaviid appeared to be visible again, and he was taking some Rad-X and Radaway. Yeah, that was definitely going to be a problem here in a minute or two... Meanwhile, as Sara ordered a converged attack on the creature's head - for all the good it was - she received a radio report.
-This is Scout A-20 to citadel. I've got a report from that ghoul who was leading the Behemoths earlier. He's saying alot of weird things, something about a huge robot under a buillding. I'd like to call bullshit, but one of our guys spotted something moving in with a big dust traill, right into the city! I think we've got incoming.-
Sara: Oh, this is just what I fucking need...
-Hello, Citadel. This is Gilford. I'm still blue, but I'm coming over to you! There's a bird's eye view of the big crustacean now. D'you know this guy's actually got a Nuka Cola symbol on its back? It's even glowing. Ummm, orders?-
Sara: Don't get too close. We've a confirmed high ranking sniper riding that thing. I want you to come in and pick up a load of explosives...
For Wayne and Stan, an odd thing happened. A sewer grate opened nearby and out popped a...ghoul wearing a cloak of some sort. He seemed to be waving over to them.
"Smoothskins! Only those who are chosen may walk freely among the Great Wet Ones! Seek refuge this way, for only under the world shall ye be safe!"
At the moment, all the Robobrain could do, in between all of the mayhem, is attempt to use the brain's mental power to try and reconnect its functions via telekinesis. It was a tricky job, since the powers were not even meant for that in the first place. Nevertheless, what it wanted ost was to be repaired and restored as a rightful intelligent being and not somebody's foot pedestal or even continually hit with a hammer for his laments. Finally, though, as the group had entered Colin Moriarty's establishment and the girl went all sorts of weird on them, he had had quite enough.
"Statement: You people are all ignoramouses, as you fail to grasp something as simple and obvious as...the fact that the girl is under severe mental programming."
There was a sigh from the machine.
"Honestly, how do you humans even breathe, or manage to create something as sophisticated as I? You're all damn dirty apes with guns and I will never EVER understand you. I mean, did any of you even realize that this place is watched from afar? That even now, steel-clad villains look upon this place as a vantage point for - I assume - militaristic operations? Hmmm?"
I'm sorry, what?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Up the hill from Megaton, I spy with my Cat's Eye...something that begins with E. Several Enclave soldiers - three vertibirds parked in the next valley - were looking over the place.
#87: Yyyup, that looks pretty secure. Can't park in there, though, but it might be good for air drops and pull-outs. Nice solid construction...
You didn't think that nothing was going to happen around here for long, did you?
"Smoothskins! Only those who are chosen may walk freely among the Great Wet Ones! Seek refuge this way, for only under the world shall ye be safe!" some strange sewer ghoul shouting, appearing from a sewer grate nearby.
"You know, just one time I would like to set out on a job and not have it all go to hell before a single day's over." Stan sighed. "Time to get murdered and slash or eaten by ghouls, I guess! We're burning through options like a gecko kebab through the uninitiated. " He holstered his pistol, and climbed down after the cloaked ghoul.
"Wayne. There's no way of telling if crazypants here is safe, or if he's leading us to a deathclaw nest. Keep your gun handy, yeah? Today's not really my kind of day to die. Too much left to do." Stan said with a grin. "And I don't imagine you're especially keen on dying either, eh?"
The last pieces of the building had fallen, and a think cloud of dust filled the air, suffocating Wayne as he ran down the alleyway to the manhole that Stan was climbing into. He didn't hang about as he heard the beast roar and the weapons bang behind him. He slid accross the floor and fell straight down the hole.
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, and he adjusted his hat to keep the dust falling into his eyes from the ceiling as the ground quakes around him. It seems the roles were reversed for him and the crab, and although he was safer underground, the sewer wouldn't last long against the weight that was being thrown around above.
The crazed ghoul continued his ramblings about wet ones and sacred paths as he led he and Stan deeper into the tunnels, the sound of the battle becoming fainter behind them.
'You going feral patchskin?' He muttered, his 10mm pistol in hand. Then to Stan 'Don't worry buddy, I got your back. Good work back there' He said, ignoring the strange feeling he got from complementing somebody.
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