Full Version: Miss Vicious
Who cares about Megaton. Playing baseball with Burke was more fun.
Hello, happy Sundas. 
A lot of the pauses which have been happening have been due to me trying to balance real-life stuff with my convoluted modding ideas, but I think I've finally got everything ironed enough by now. Maybe by the time the holidays are upon us, somewhere between Thanksgiving and Xmas
, Vicious's story will come to a conclusion. Sort of. I don't know. I have a slew of ideas by now.
Mostly I get inspired to play Fallout games because summer begins. All that green foliage outside, with yellow/orange sunlight burning its contrast. Something about that is what causes me to get inspired to play Fallout, just as leaves falling off trees matched with the blues and grays of winter causes me to get into Skyrim.
I do know how this story is going to continue and "end," and what an ending it shall be.
Do we have any questions or comments?
Acadian: Yes, there is quite a lot of action going on, with the restroom scene and Mister Burke meeting his demise. Half of that story was imagination, whereas the other half actually happened in real-time. That's been a pattern, so far. I like it.
SubRosa: Yeesh, yes, sorry! I couldn't think of any better way to explain Mister Burke's head meeting Ichiro's bat. I know January 'took care' of Moriarty, did she do the same with Mister Burke as well?
Lopov: Thanks, brother! More to come. Hope you are doing okay.
Lopov's hospital is dealing with a slew of new COVID cases, which is why he's been quiet this week.
Khajiit: Very astute, yes, I think we'll be hearing more from that creepy restroom intruder. And I also think that Vicious does not want to tell Simms about that encounter because she's had problems in the past, in Megaton. She's trying to keep a low profile, not draw attention to herself.
Limelight is a great song, I really like Jacob's Ladder most of all!
macole: Absolutely. Cho thinks so.
A lot of the pauses which have been happening have been due to me trying to balance real-life stuff with my convoluted modding ideas, but I think I've finally got everything ironed enough by now. Maybe by the time the holidays are upon us, somewhere between Thanksgiving and Xmas
, Vicious's story will come to a conclusion. Sort of. I don't know. I have a slew of ideas by now. Mostly I get inspired to play Fallout games because summer begins. All that green foliage outside, with yellow/orange sunlight burning its contrast. Something about that is what causes me to get inspired to play Fallout, just as leaves falling off trees matched with the blues and grays of winter causes me to get into Skyrim.
I do know how this story is going to continue and "end," and what an ending it shall be.
Do we have any questions or comments? Acadian: Yes, there is quite a lot of action going on, with the restroom scene and Mister Burke meeting his demise. Half of that story was imagination, whereas the other half actually happened in real-time. That's been a pattern, so far. I like it.
SubRosa: Yeesh, yes, sorry! I couldn't think of any better way to explain Mister Burke's head meeting Ichiro's bat. I know January 'took care' of Moriarty, did she do the same with Mister Burke as well?
Lopov: Thanks, brother! More to come. Hope you are doing okay.
Lopov's hospital is dealing with a slew of new COVID cases, which is why he's been quiet this week.
Khajiit: Very astute, yes, I think we'll be hearing more from that creepy restroom intruder. And I also think that Vicious does not want to tell Simms about that encounter because she's had problems in the past, in Megaton. She's trying to keep a low profile, not draw attention to herself.
Limelight is a great song, I really like Jacob's Ladder most of all!
macole: Absolutely. Cho thinks so.
January did not deal with Mr. Burke at all. She never even met him. She disarmed the bomb as soon as she got to Megaton, so he was never part of the equation at all.
Don't waste your time fighting blind-minded thoughts of despair
Hold on! To your love...
Lucy West woke the next morning, feeling optimistic.
Adjusting to life in cramped and quirky Megaton had been challenging at times. The letters she’d sent to her family up in Arefu hadn’t been answered for over a week, definitely a cause for concern. But she felt more optimistic this morning. She had made herself a new friend.
Sun was shining through the tiny cracks in her tin metal bedroom, a gentle summer breeze creaked its joints. Lucy and her new friend hadn't spent long chatting the night before, when suddenly Taneesha yawned. Not a stifled-under-her-writst sort of yawn, but a real jaw-cracking, open-faced mawing. It was though her guest hadn't meant to do it. "Uh, sorry," Taneesha said, grinning. "You don't know the day I had...you only got to see the end of it."
But Lucy got it immediately, she understood. Stood right up off her couch, allowing her guest a place to rest. Talk could wait until the next morning. It had been a long day. Not to mention, Taneesha had come into town from the wasteland, where every day was a long day.
After going to bed upstairs, Lucy was surprised to hear her visitor began to mutter to herself. Taneesha was doing so quietly, but the night was also quiet, and Lucy's place fostered a slight echo. So, it was impossible not to hear. Lucy focused her ears. Curiosity. After a moment, she realized Taneesha was saying some sort of prayer. Not to Atom, but to God! “Phew,” Lucy exhaled. One thing she did not want was to have one of those nuts in her home.
So ... this next morning. It came as a surprise when Lucy woke with vigor, clamped downstairs to her living room / kitchen, but then discovered her new friend was nowhere to be seen.
"Taneesha?"
Lucy moved quickly past her home's entrance, peering into its pantry area. No Taneesha. Instead, Lucy found a note, propped upon her scrappy dining table.
“Well shoot,” Lucy said aloud, a little saddened. She had just begun to think perhaps she and Taneesha could embark on a little adventure. Headed northeast. Maybe to Arefu itself. "I do hope I'll see her around town," she mused as she poured herself some Sugar Bombs.
THE BRASS LANTERN, 9:52 AM
"Now I KNOW I've never seen you in Megaton, right?" Jenny Stahl, The Brass Lantern's cook, asked the young lady standing before her. "We get people passing through here all the time. Anyway if you're hungry, you came to the right place. What can I get you?"
Still early morning it was. Taneesha's head ached slightly from the previous night's alcohol. "Mac and cheese," she answered, looking forward to an actual hot meal, her first in almost a week. She gazed around momentarily, then focused upward. Thought she caught a glimpse of Lucy West leaving her two-story box, high above. She felt a little something about that, like maybe she should not have left Lucy's place so abruptly. That lady had been so kind the night before. But ...Taneesha Jones had never been the sort who liked to freeload off of other people. Last night had been an exception.
"Hey, I won't say it's all fresh," said the cook, "but it'll keep you going,"
Taneesha sat down next to a blonde lady wearing black and white armor, thinking it was the most fantastic set of armor she'd ever seen. Like something out of an action comic. Jericho, that bastard, stood off to the side, watching Jenny heat up Taneesha's breakfast. Thankfully, he was being quiet this morning. Behind them both, a lady wearing a guard's outfit strolled amongst a smattering of settlers. And as always, Confessor Cromwell had already begun his morning sermon.
"...Give your bodies to Atom, my friends! We shall see our release from the pain and hardship of this world, as we leap into Atom's glow...!"
"Oh my guhd." Taneesha tried to stifle her voice, hoped she succeeded. And ah, her meal was ready. Goopy mac & cheese carbohydrates, poured righteously. She began to dig in, the food was good and hot. Taking a second mouthful, then a third. The pasta squished delightfully in her mouth. At this moment, she felt a sudden hand upon her shoulder.
"Don't try the noodles." It was the blonde in the gleaming black and white armor, getting up to leave, speaking matter-of-factly under her breath. "I think I saw something moving in mine."
Taneesha chuckled. Had another bite, then looked to her left. The blonde in the fantastic hero armor was already nowhere to be seen.
THE CHURCH OF THE CHILDREN OF ATOM
"The Confessor is truly the Child of Atom," said a dark-skinned man as Taneesha walked in the church's door. He was imparting to Taneesha what she assumed he thought was divine wisdom.
She walked a few steps more into Atom's church, her shoes whispering upon sheet metal floor.
"Speak to the Confessor, or the Mother, if you wish to know more." This was said by a large-chested woman wearing an armless white shirt. The woman's shirt was white, but stained with a few dark flecks which Taneesha assumed was blood.
"I .. uh, do dwell within Atom's Glow." Taneesha tried, before having a seat at a table nearby. Oh my guhd, what am I doing here? she thought to herself, fidgeting a cigarette from her satchel. Suddenly, she was a little nervous. She needed to think. And sometimes, having a smoke was the best way to do it.
Thing is, the Children of the Church of Atom's members frequently turned over, as some "children" joined, and some children stayed. Others? They moved on. So she wouldn't be noticed as an outsider, at least not right away. But still. What exactly was she doing back in the church? As she exhaled some smoke, she hoped the two children at the other table would leave her alone. And they did.
She thought back to the Year 2275, when she had first arrived in Megaton. Scared, and seventeen. The group of Jehovah's Witnesses she'd been traveling with had scattered some days before (getting constantly shot at had helped), now she was on her own. In her previous faith, The End was always coming, and always The End was near. Better prepare for Paradise, as those who were faithful would trend towards the Kingdom of Zion. The Earth would perish in fire and hailstones. All of this was always given some date just ahead, whether this date be weeks, months, or years. It was how she had been raised. Perhaps it was because of this religious background that she'd instantly flocked to the building she was in now. Being within its walls, she cared little for their faith. But at least she had gained back some of the life she had known.
Back then, she had had good reason to flock toward the church. Where else was she going to go? Heading back north to her home was not an option; she'd never make there alive, especially on her own. But now? Where else could she go now? Maybe back to Big Town. Yeah, that could be. Nobody really worked in Megaton except the cook, the bartenders, the merchant, and Sherriff Simms. The whore in Moriarty's. The folks who ran the clinic. But in Big Town, everybody had a job, everybody who was able, that is. She could head there, maybe get back on her feet under less constrained conditions.
She nodded to herself, crushing her cigarette into an ash tray. Got up, and headed toward the church's refrigerator. Everything would be okay, she thought as she opened the fridge, grabbing some iguana meat. She could stay here the night perhaps, maybe say a few "hail Atoms" here and there. Otherwise, she'd be out of Megaton by the next day.
"Hey put that back!" the lady in the armless shirt with its dried blood exclaimed.
"Stop! Thief!" a man called aloud, getting up from across the room. He paced over quickly, and snatched the food from Taneesha's hand.
"But I thought--" she started.
But what was the use? They knew, somehow. She was not one of them. In the past, this wouldn't have mattered. The church's refrigerator had been communal during her previous Church of Atom stay. Obviously, this had changed. Not wishing to cause any more concern, she left the church's confines quickly.
----------------------------------------
Lucy West
Mac & Cheese breakfast
The Church of Atom
"Oh my guhd."
Hold on! To your love...
Lucy West woke the next morning, feeling optimistic.
Adjusting to life in cramped and quirky Megaton had been challenging at times. The letters she’d sent to her family up in Arefu hadn’t been answered for over a week, definitely a cause for concern. But she felt more optimistic this morning. She had made herself a new friend.
Sun was shining through the tiny cracks in her tin metal bedroom, a gentle summer breeze creaked its joints. Lucy and her new friend hadn't spent long chatting the night before, when suddenly Taneesha yawned. Not a stifled-under-her-writst sort of yawn, but a real jaw-cracking, open-faced mawing. It was though her guest hadn't meant to do it. "Uh, sorry," Taneesha said, grinning. "You don't know the day I had...you only got to see the end of it."
But Lucy got it immediately, she understood. Stood right up off her couch, allowing her guest a place to rest. Talk could wait until the next morning. It had been a long day. Not to mention, Taneesha had come into town from the wasteland, where every day was a long day.
After going to bed upstairs, Lucy was surprised to hear her visitor began to mutter to herself. Taneesha was doing so quietly, but the night was also quiet, and Lucy's place fostered a slight echo. So, it was impossible not to hear. Lucy focused her ears. Curiosity. After a moment, she realized Taneesha was saying some sort of prayer. Not to Atom, but to God! “Phew,” Lucy exhaled. One thing she did not want was to have one of those nuts in her home.
So ... this next morning. It came as a surprise when Lucy woke with vigor, clamped downstairs to her living room / kitchen, but then discovered her new friend was nowhere to be seen.
"Taneesha?"
Lucy moved quickly past her home's entrance, peering into its pantry area. No Taneesha. Instead, Lucy found a note, propped upon her scrappy dining table.
Hey Miss West,
Thank you for letting me stay. Sorry I have to run.. but I don’t want to be a burden or anything.I feel like maybe IMaybe I’ll see you around town.
Taneesha
“Well shoot,” Lucy said aloud, a little saddened. She had just begun to think perhaps she and Taneesha could embark on a little adventure. Headed northeast. Maybe to Arefu itself. "I do hope I'll see her around town," she mused as she poured herself some Sugar Bombs.
---------------------------------------------
THE BRASS LANTERN, 9:52 AM
"Now I KNOW I've never seen you in Megaton, right?" Jenny Stahl, The Brass Lantern's cook, asked the young lady standing before her. "We get people passing through here all the time. Anyway if you're hungry, you came to the right place. What can I get you?"
Still early morning it was. Taneesha's head ached slightly from the previous night's alcohol. "Mac and cheese," she answered, looking forward to an actual hot meal, her first in almost a week. She gazed around momentarily, then focused upward. Thought she caught a glimpse of Lucy West leaving her two-story box, high above. She felt a little something about that, like maybe she should not have left Lucy's place so abruptly. That lady had been so kind the night before. But ...Taneesha Jones had never been the sort who liked to freeload off of other people. Last night had been an exception.
"Hey, I won't say it's all fresh," said the cook, "but it'll keep you going,"
Taneesha sat down next to a blonde lady wearing black and white armor, thinking it was the most fantastic set of armor she'd ever seen. Like something out of an action comic. Jericho, that bastard, stood off to the side, watching Jenny heat up Taneesha's breakfast. Thankfully, he was being quiet this morning. Behind them both, a lady wearing a guard's outfit strolled amongst a smattering of settlers. And as always, Confessor Cromwell had already begun his morning sermon.
"...Give your bodies to Atom, my friends! We shall see our release from the pain and hardship of this world, as we leap into Atom's glow...!"
"Oh my guhd." Taneesha tried to stifle her voice, hoped she succeeded. And ah, her meal was ready. Goopy mac & cheese carbohydrates, poured righteously. She began to dig in, the food was good and hot. Taking a second mouthful, then a third. The pasta squished delightfully in her mouth. At this moment, she felt a sudden hand upon her shoulder.
"Don't try the noodles." It was the blonde in the gleaming black and white armor, getting up to leave, speaking matter-of-factly under her breath. "I think I saw something moving in mine."
Taneesha chuckled. Had another bite, then looked to her left. The blonde in the fantastic hero armor was already nowhere to be seen.
---------------------------------------------
THE CHURCH OF THE CHILDREN OF ATOM
"The Confessor is truly the Child of Atom," said a dark-skinned man as Taneesha walked in the church's door. He was imparting to Taneesha what she assumed he thought was divine wisdom.
She walked a few steps more into Atom's church, her shoes whispering upon sheet metal floor.
"Speak to the Confessor, or the Mother, if you wish to know more." This was said by a large-chested woman wearing an armless white shirt. The woman's shirt was white, but stained with a few dark flecks which Taneesha assumed was blood.
"I .. uh, do dwell within Atom's Glow." Taneesha tried, before having a seat at a table nearby. Oh my guhd, what am I doing here? she thought to herself, fidgeting a cigarette from her satchel. Suddenly, she was a little nervous. She needed to think. And sometimes, having a smoke was the best way to do it.
Thing is, the Children of the Church of Atom's members frequently turned over, as some "children" joined, and some children stayed. Others? They moved on. So she wouldn't be noticed as an outsider, at least not right away. But still. What exactly was she doing back in the church? As she exhaled some smoke, she hoped the two children at the other table would leave her alone. And they did.
She thought back to the Year 2275, when she had first arrived in Megaton. Scared, and seventeen. The group of Jehovah's Witnesses she'd been traveling with had scattered some days before (getting constantly shot at had helped), now she was on her own. In her previous faith, The End was always coming, and always The End was near. Better prepare for Paradise, as those who were faithful would trend towards the Kingdom of Zion. The Earth would perish in fire and hailstones. All of this was always given some date just ahead, whether this date be weeks, months, or years. It was how she had been raised. Perhaps it was because of this religious background that she'd instantly flocked to the building she was in now. Being within its walls, she cared little for their faith. But at least she had gained back some of the life she had known.
Back then, she had had good reason to flock toward the church. Where else was she going to go? Heading back north to her home was not an option; she'd never make there alive, especially on her own. But now? Where else could she go now? Maybe back to Big Town. Yeah, that could be. Nobody really worked in Megaton except the cook, the bartenders, the merchant, and Sherriff Simms. The whore in Moriarty's. The folks who ran the clinic. But in Big Town, everybody had a job, everybody who was able, that is. She could head there, maybe get back on her feet under less constrained conditions.
She nodded to herself, crushing her cigarette into an ash tray. Got up, and headed toward the church's refrigerator. Everything would be okay, she thought as she opened the fridge, grabbing some iguana meat. She could stay here the night perhaps, maybe say a few "hail Atoms" here and there. Otherwise, she'd be out of Megaton by the next day.
"Hey put that back!" the lady in the armless shirt with its dried blood exclaimed.
"Stop! Thief!" a man called aloud, getting up from across the room. He paced over quickly, and snatched the food from Taneesha's hand.
"But I thought--" she started.
But what was the use? They knew, somehow. She was not one of them. In the past, this wouldn't have mattered. The church's refrigerator had been communal during her previous Church of Atom stay. Obviously, this had changed. Not wishing to cause any more concern, she left the church's confines quickly.
----------------------------------------
Lucy West
Mac & Cheese breakfast
The Church of Atom
"Oh my guhd."
QUOTE(Renee @ Oct 18 2020, 10:21 AM) 
Lopov's hospital is dealing with a slew of new COVID cases, which is why he's been quiet this week.
Sorry to hear that. Please, Lopov take all necessary precautions.
He is okay. We've been messaging today and other than working 9 days in a row, he is okay. Tired, but okay. 
Let me know if there's a problem with my allusion in the second section of this week's story. I don't know if I crossed a line... maybe I should ask first? It's just that moment seemed so perfect, since they were both sitting in the same place.
Let me know if there's a problem with my allusion in the second section of this week's story. I don't know if I crossed a line... maybe I should ask first? It's just that moment seemed so perfect, since they were both sitting in the same place.
Hot mac & cheese sounds much better for breakfast than a bowl of sugar bombs.
’We shall see our release from the pain and hardship of this world, as we leap into Atom's glow...!"
- - Oh, where do I sign up for that?!? NOT!
Methinks we have a Stormcrow sighting!
’We shall see our release from the pain and hardship of this world, as we leap into Atom's glow...!"
- - Oh, where do I sign up for that?!? NOT!
Methinks we have a Stormcrow sighting!
Is Miss V's pasta moving too?
I think I recognize that blonde lady in the black and white armor!
Ha! The noodles were moving!
Given that they like to stand in radioactive water, I would imagine that the Children of Atom have a high turnover rate from radiation poisoning...
Oh no! Stop Criminal Scum!
I think I recognize that blonde lady in the black and white armor!
Ha! The noodles were moving!
Given that they like to stand in radioactive water, I would imagine that the Children of Atom have a high turnover rate from radiation poisoning...
Oh no! Stop Criminal Scum!
Uh woo woo! Somebody’s in trouble! Good thing she’s rather fleet of foot!
Yes Acadian, Sugar Bombs sound disgusting! And yes, there was a Stormcrow sighting..
I think I recognize that blonde lady in the black and white armor!
Hee hee! I was so worried about this!
I'll ask next time, if there is a next time. I had real fun writing that part up.
Uh woo woo! Somebody’s in trouble! Good thing she’s rather fleet of foot!
I hope so. We shall see....
--------------------------------
Last week! Taneesha Jones, also known as Miss Vicious, has settled into Megaton, but is having some trouble deciding whether to stay or not.
Megaton. Sunday, August 26, 2277
Two days passed, and life moved on. Taneesha Jones settled quietly into Megaton. The odder moments of her initial entrance into town became the latest topics of gossip for some. But overall, nothing much came of this.
The creep from the restroom three nights' prior did not make a reappearance. Taneesha listened for his voice all over town, which she knew she'd be able to identify. Whoever the creep was, he'd been keeping silent. Maybe he'd even left town.
Lucas Simms, the tall dude who'd startled her arrival, now generally left her alone. The man with the bat who'd killed Mister Burke (whose name was Cho, she learned) left town to do some investigating for Moira Brown, Megaton's main trader. Rumor was he'd originally come from nearby Vault 101; even the d.j. on the radio had mentioned something about this. Taneesha also met up with Lucy West a couple times. Apologized in person for leaving Lucy's pad so abruptly.
"Any time you need a place to crash," Lucy had said the previous day...
For reasons Taneesha herself did not fully understand, she declined Lucy's offer once again. Instead, she'd begun to stay at another Megaton establishment, a place simply called the Common House. Located on Megaton's top tier, kitty-corner to the Church of Atom, the Common House was just that, a place where any commoner (or settler, as they often called themselves) could stay. No religion required. But staying there had its own set of catches. Compared to Atom's church, the Common House was dimmer. Dirtier. Danker. It had less rules, and its fridge was communally packed with food offered from those who had more money. However, it was the sort of place for layabouts and vagabonds. The sort of place where you kept your things nearby at all times. Certain commoners had been living there for years, somehow. Taneesha did not wish to become one of them.
Otherwise, staying in the Common House wasn't so bad. Over the past two years, she'd willingly lived in places much worse. Her problems began as the stash she'd looted from those raiders in Fairfax finally ran out.
-----------------------
8:32 pm
"Can't even afford some damn squirrel stick," a nearby settler mumbled, as Taneesha walked by on this fine summer evening.
"Hi there, miss," a young girl greeted.
Taneesha waved back. Smiled, even. Her third full day in town, and things weren't going so bad. A little dull perhaps, but safe, and tolerable.
She entered Megaton's bar, bought herself some rum. Twelve less caps in her purse. Money was getting tight. And, as she had intuited, there were no jobs available in Megaton. No paying jobs, anyway. Moira Brown was offering money to anybody who would help her with some sort of book she was writing, but to get compensated meant to go into some highly dangerous places, and come back out alive! Not a mission for somebody packing a dime store pistol, at best.
She sipped her rum, retching a bit at its awesome warmth. Reached into her pack, only to find she was out of chems. "Uhhh, geez. Say it ain't so" she moaned. Unfortuantely, it was so. She'd injected her last Psycho the previous day, and had used her last Jet inhaler some time in the night. She sat pensively a moment. Lit a cigarette. Megaton might be safe and tolerable; it was its 'dull' part could eventually become a problem.
"Lord, give me strength."
She prayed to herself a moment, but quickly knew this attempt was futile. Religion was not going to help, not without the full support of her former Witness group, most of whom were probably dead by now. She tried again. Nothing, from the Man upstairs. Her thoughts raced a bit, and her arms were suddenly itchy. This wasn't due to the clothes she'd now been wearing for four days straight. She twisted in her chair. Knew where she'd need to go next, if she was to avoid withdrawal.
"Lookin's free," said Nova, the bar's resident call girl, as Taneesha stood out of her chair, "but the rest will cost ya."
"As if," Taneesha answered with a smirk. "But good luck to you, girl." Stalked off into the night. Outside, it had begun to rain again.
----------------------------
9:33 pm
"STOP!" exclaimed the lady wearing the beige guard's uniform, as Taneesha exited Megaton's clinic. This lady, this guard or whatever, grabbed Taneesha's arm forcefully. "You have violated the law here in Megaton!"
"Say what?" Taneesha had noticed this guard lady several times by now, in days' past. Guard lady was someone new. She hadn't been in town two years ago. So who the hell was this lady? "I have violated the law? ... What law?"
"You have been caught committing a crime," guard lady ignored patiently, "and for this you must pay. Stealing, pickpockets, trespassing, assault and murder are all against the law nowadays, by order of Sherriff Simms."
Taneesha grimaced glumly, trying to think of an excuse, or something. But also thinking suddenly of 'Thou shalt not steal.' The seventh commandment, which she had just broken, plain as day. "Okay, you got me," she relented. Moments before, she'd been witnessed stealing some Psycho. Once inside of Megaton's Clinic, she'd looked around a bit, crouched down, and then tried to take an injector off a shelf, only to be seen by Doc Church, the clinic's physician. "So like ... what is this? What are you saying, here?"
She glanced momentarily around the plaza, embarrassed and confused. There were a few settlers moseying around, but nobody she knew well. Best of all, there was no Lucy West.
"You have but three choices now," guard lady informed. "Pay some caps, go to our fine jail, or resist arrest. I'd highly recommend not taking that final choice."
"Jail?" she asked incredulously. "Ain't no jail in Megaton."
"There is now. Are you saying you wish to go there?"
Taneesha thought about it a moment. Paying caps was not an option, not when she was down to her last two dozen or so. "Uh. I guess."
"I know you've done wrong," guard lady replied, her voice toning down. "It happens sometimes. Hopefully cooling your heels in our cell might set you straight." She sounded different now. Maybe even compassionate.
"So, what does this all mean?"
"You're off to jail. I hereby sentence you to the term of 24 hours, after which, you'll be conditionally allowed back into Megaton, assuming you keep your thieving hands to yourself."
"Oh my guhd."
Taneesha Jones was handcuffed, then led outside of Megaton's gigantic, creaking gates.
------------------------------------------
Common House
Psycho in Megaton Clinic
Arrest
Incarceration
QUOTE
I think I recognize that blonde lady in the black and white armor!
Hee hee! I was so worried about this!
I'll ask next time, if there is a next time. I had real fun writing that part up. QUOTE
Uh woo woo! Somebody’s in trouble! Good thing she’s rather fleet of foot!
I hope so. We shall see....
--------------------------------
Last week! Taneesha Jones, also known as Miss Vicious, has settled into Megaton, but is having some trouble deciding whether to stay or not.
Megaton. Sunday, August 26, 2277
Two days passed, and life moved on. Taneesha Jones settled quietly into Megaton. The odder moments of her initial entrance into town became the latest topics of gossip for some. But overall, nothing much came of this.
The creep from the restroom three nights' prior did not make a reappearance. Taneesha listened for his voice all over town, which she knew she'd be able to identify. Whoever the creep was, he'd been keeping silent. Maybe he'd even left town.
Lucas Simms, the tall dude who'd startled her arrival, now generally left her alone. The man with the bat who'd killed Mister Burke (whose name was Cho, she learned) left town to do some investigating for Moira Brown, Megaton's main trader. Rumor was he'd originally come from nearby Vault 101; even the d.j. on the radio had mentioned something about this. Taneesha also met up with Lucy West a couple times. Apologized in person for leaving Lucy's pad so abruptly.
"Any time you need a place to crash," Lucy had said the previous day...
For reasons Taneesha herself did not fully understand, she declined Lucy's offer once again. Instead, she'd begun to stay at another Megaton establishment, a place simply called the Common House. Located on Megaton's top tier, kitty-corner to the Church of Atom, the Common House was just that, a place where any commoner (or settler, as they often called themselves) could stay. No religion required. But staying there had its own set of catches. Compared to Atom's church, the Common House was dimmer. Dirtier. Danker. It had less rules, and its fridge was communally packed with food offered from those who had more money. However, it was the sort of place for layabouts and vagabonds. The sort of place where you kept your things nearby at all times. Certain commoners had been living there for years, somehow. Taneesha did not wish to become one of them.
Otherwise, staying in the Common House wasn't so bad. Over the past two years, she'd willingly lived in places much worse. Her problems began as the stash she'd looted from those raiders in Fairfax finally ran out.
-----------------------
8:32 pm
"Can't even afford some damn squirrel stick," a nearby settler mumbled, as Taneesha walked by on this fine summer evening.
"Hi there, miss," a young girl greeted.
Taneesha waved back. Smiled, even. Her third full day in town, and things weren't going so bad. A little dull perhaps, but safe, and tolerable.
She entered Megaton's bar, bought herself some rum. Twelve less caps in her purse. Money was getting tight. And, as she had intuited, there were no jobs available in Megaton. No paying jobs, anyway. Moira Brown was offering money to anybody who would help her with some sort of book she was writing, but to get compensated meant to go into some highly dangerous places, and come back out alive! Not a mission for somebody packing a dime store pistol, at best.
She sipped her rum, retching a bit at its awesome warmth. Reached into her pack, only to find she was out of chems. "Uhhh, geez. Say it ain't so" she moaned. Unfortuantely, it was so. She'd injected her last Psycho the previous day, and had used her last Jet inhaler some time in the night. She sat pensively a moment. Lit a cigarette. Megaton might be safe and tolerable; it was its 'dull' part could eventually become a problem.
"Lord, give me strength."
She prayed to herself a moment, but quickly knew this attempt was futile. Religion was not going to help, not without the full support of her former Witness group, most of whom were probably dead by now. She tried again. Nothing, from the Man upstairs. Her thoughts raced a bit, and her arms were suddenly itchy. This wasn't due to the clothes she'd now been wearing for four days straight. She twisted in her chair. Knew where she'd need to go next, if she was to avoid withdrawal.
"Lookin's free," said Nova, the bar's resident call girl, as Taneesha stood out of her chair, "but the rest will cost ya."
"As if," Taneesha answered with a smirk. "But good luck to you, girl." Stalked off into the night. Outside, it had begun to rain again.
----------------------------
9:33 pm
"STOP!" exclaimed the lady wearing the beige guard's uniform, as Taneesha exited Megaton's clinic. This lady, this guard or whatever, grabbed Taneesha's arm forcefully. "You have violated the law here in Megaton!"
"Say what?" Taneesha had noticed this guard lady several times by now, in days' past. Guard lady was someone new. She hadn't been in town two years ago. So who the hell was this lady? "I have violated the law? ... What law?"
"You have been caught committing a crime," guard lady ignored patiently, "and for this you must pay. Stealing, pickpockets, trespassing, assault and murder are all against the law nowadays, by order of Sherriff Simms."
Taneesha grimaced glumly, trying to think of an excuse, or something. But also thinking suddenly of 'Thou shalt not steal.' The seventh commandment, which she had just broken, plain as day. "Okay, you got me," she relented. Moments before, she'd been witnessed stealing some Psycho. Once inside of Megaton's Clinic, she'd looked around a bit, crouched down, and then tried to take an injector off a shelf, only to be seen by Doc Church, the clinic's physician. "So like ... what is this? What are you saying, here?"
She glanced momentarily around the plaza, embarrassed and confused. There were a few settlers moseying around, but nobody she knew well. Best of all, there was no Lucy West.
"You have but three choices now," guard lady informed. "Pay some caps, go to our fine jail, or resist arrest. I'd highly recommend not taking that final choice."
"Jail?" she asked incredulously. "Ain't no jail in Megaton."
"There is now. Are you saying you wish to go there?"
Taneesha thought about it a moment. Paying caps was not an option, not when she was down to her last two dozen or so. "Uh. I guess."
"I know you've done wrong," guard lady replied, her voice toning down. "It happens sometimes. Hopefully cooling your heels in our cell might set you straight." She sounded different now. Maybe even compassionate.
"So, what does this all mean?"
"You're off to jail. I hereby sentence you to the term of 24 hours, after which, you'll be conditionally allowed back into Megaton, assuming you keep your thieving hands to yourself."
"Oh my guhd."
Taneesha Jones was handcuffed, then led outside of Megaton's gigantic, creaking gates.
------------------------------------------
Common House
Psycho in Megaton Clinic
Arrest
Incarceration
I do not think I have ever had a character sleep in the Common House. Are the beds sleepable? Or are they owned by the NPCs?
Uh oh, out of chems, and nearly out of caps. I suspect that Miss V might have to hit the road with her dime store gun and do some scavenging.
Uh oh, V turned to crime, and now she's going to the slam! Well, at least she might meet the Wheet Bandit in there, and get a few pointers...
Uh oh, out of chems, and nearly out of caps. I suspect that Miss V might have to hit the road with her dime store gun and do some scavenging.
Uh oh, V turned to crime, and now she's going to the slam! Well, at least she might meet the Wheet Bandit in there, and get a few pointers...
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Oct 24 2020, 11:17 PM)
I do not think I have ever had a character sleep in the Common House. Are the beds sleepable? Or are they owned by the NPCs?
Uh oh, out of chems, and nearly out of caps. I suspect that Miss V might have to hit the road with her dime store gun and do some scavenging.
Uh oh, V turned to crime, and now she's going to the slam! Well, at least she might meet the Wheet Bandit in there, and get a few pointers...
I’m pretty sure the common house is off limits for sleeping in the vanilla game.
Nice to hear some details of her daily routine as Miss VD settles into Megaton. Uh-oh, looks like she ran into an Imperial Legion trained guard and earned some incarceration. Say, is she related to the Weet Bandit? 
SubRosa -- Yes beds are sleepable in Common House, although as Khajiit says, they might not be this way in the vanilla game. At this point I could have installed some mod by now which made them this way, not sure. 
I wonder if I even SetOwneship to a bed, then forgot about this! Could be.
Acadian -- Aw, hey thanks! I spent two entire in-game days in real-time to write that last chapter. No waiting, although hours did pass more quickly as she slept a couple times.
I think she may be related to the Weet Bandit in spirit. Like a reincarnation kind of thing.
Lopov -- No Lopov.
------------------------------------------
Anyone 'lucky' enough to live and grow during the Twenty-Third century Anno Domini would have faced and witnessed plenty of situations unfamiliar to those who'd lived and grew during the Twenty-First.
Motorized transportation, for example. A necessary facet of the past, now permanently halted -- equating to hunks of scrap metal at best. The concept of real estate only existed if one had enough guns and ammo to protect it. Malls and markets and refineries and industrial firms and car dealerships which once generated piles of cash, now inhabited by monsters and outlaws. Indeed, the use of the word "outlaw" is in fact an untruth. How could somebody be an outlaw if there was no law?
The notion of law. Here was one idea from the past which Lucas Simms tried to bring into the present, for better or worse. Law and justice, retained from history books, would hopefully equate to order. In Megaton, at least.
During his tenure as "mayor" and sheriff there had been a number of thefts, a smattering of unprovoked assaults, and even one murder. These incidents were uncommon, but when they occurred everyone would throw their hands up, as if to say that's how it goes, nowadays.
Wasteland Justice, this was called. The furor which took place after each of these incidents was never pretty. Suddenly it became 'every man for himself', as the saying goes. Whoever caused one of these incidents (known as "crimes" in the history books) was suddenly surrounded, quickly beaten down by others. Gunfire would erupt from Moriarty's, perhaps. The incident-causer (known as a "criminal" or "perp" in the history books) would be chased out of town, at best. Killed on the spot, at worst. At the most extreme, occasional innocent dwellers of Megaton had gotten caught in moments of friendly fire, as everyone clamored to get a shot into the perp at once. Shots would get fired, but somebody would miss, and some guy or gal unrelated to the original crime would now have some lead in his or her gut. Technically there were now two perps, if we're to go by how law worked in those books from the past.
In the spring of 2277, Sherriff Simms decided to broaden his role to Mayor Simms. Lucas had been the one who'd been enacting whatever rules there were in Megaton, now he'd be the one writing those rules, as well. "I am your sheriff," he told his townspeople, "and now I'll also be your mayor, when the need arises."
It had indeed arisen in his opinion, and in the opinion of plenty others. Some folks preferred the way it was, while others wished to see themselves thrust out of their somewhat barbaric way of doing things. "Some of us have children, you know..." these latter folks argued most convincingly.
Wheels rolled into motion quickly. Lucas read those books, and then drafted a slew of ideas. He explained them all to other prominent members of Megaton society, many of whom had no idea how things were once done. These book-ideas became The Law of Megaton. Caps were allocated. A couple of tough-looking goons from Tenpenny Tower were hired. Both were deputized as officers, earning 30 caps a day, plus free lodging.
The final approved motion was made for what would become Megaton's jail. Over the summer, a Quonset-styled hut was built just outside of town. Here was Megaton's jail, where the perps, the criminals, would be taken, assuming they chose to be incarcerated instead of paying caps. As for those who resisted arrest? They'd face a bit of Wasteland Justice, just like in the old days.
Taneesha did not wish to face the 'old days' sort of justice, nor did she pay any caps to rid her crime. So it was into the Quonset-styled jail (off to the slammer, as they say) she'd been brought the night before.
11:22 PM. Sunday, August 27, 2277
They told her she'd be locked for 24 hours, which didn't sound so bad. What they didn't tell her was who (what) she'd be locked up with.
Clank.... fwa ... Clank! ...fwa.... Clank!...fwa
Jail Bot, a two-hundred forty year-old RobCo Protectron, clanked her way, stood in one of its three destinated patrol spots. Jail Bot had been programmed to walk in a triangular pattern on the other side of her cell's gate, over and over. According to those who brought her here, the bot had also been programmed to dispense food, and would be in charge of unlocking the gate when her sentence was over.
Taneesha poised herself awkwardly before her cell's gate. "So, you are supposed to give me food, right? Well I'm hungry."
"Protect. And. Serve.," the robot answered, before clanking away.
They'd taken away all her things, but oddly allowed her to keep her solar-powered handheld device. She powered this on. Checked the time. 23:16 it said. According to the jail's rulebook, it was too late to get food; Jail Bot had been programmed to do so only in the morning and early evening, and it was now nearer to midnight. But she didn't care. She was hungry! She'd try again.
She waited 30 seconds for the robot to return in front of her cell. "Hey you *flipping* *bleeping* hunk of junk, I said I want more food! You gonna give me some, or what?"
"Protect. And. Serve."
"Oh my god."
Another 30 seconds, the robot clanked its patrol.
"Hey, Sorry I called you a *flipping* hunk of junk. But really. You can't give me no food right now? I am a human being. And we human beings use something called food for energy. We aren't powered by nuclear fission, or whatever the heck. Come on, just once. Break the rules. I won't say nothing."
"Mooove. Along. Please."
"Oh my god. Lord help me."
It would be the longest 24 hours of her life, it seemed.
8:44 AM. Monday, August 27, 2277
'Hungry ... pard'ner?" Jail Bot asked the next morning, to Taneesha's relief. She had a small hangover after last night's drinking session, and was worried the damn thing might not feed her at all. It would malfunction, or whatever. She'd be stuck in here for days, a corpse by the time they found her. "I have a .. deelightful ... Assortment of food."
She was given a stick of squirrel meat, a box of Sugar Bombs, and a Nuka Cola. Yum. She ate with a near sort of fervor, then laid back on the jail's cot. Tried to sleep, but she'd already slept the previous night, so this was impossible. She checked her device. Sixteen hours to go.
Oh lord help me
Being cooped up in here. Nothing to do. Not even a book to read. Bored. She had never been so bored.
She found a rusty nail on the floor, something which they had apparently missed while cleaning up. She grabbed the nail. Began to scratch it onto a nearby wall, seeing if it would leave any marks. It did. So she scratched her name onto the wall. But not her real name.
She carved into the wall's corrugated metal, the rusted nail making little shrieking noises as she worked. There. She left her mark. Looked over at the Jail Bot, but apparently it had not been programmed to do anything about people who wanted to write or doodle on the jail's walls. Taneesha placed the nail back on the floor, in a rather obvious spot. Mm hmm. Let the next guest of this wholesome and fine establisment also carve his or her mark.
Four more hours of this madness. Though the jail was air-conditioned, it got quite warm as its prisoner stirred. Taneesha continued to doodle on her wall. And then finally, Jail Bot's release programming kicked in.
"You have. Serrrved. All your time," its metallic voice blared. "You ... are ... now ... free to go."
Taneesha grinned, and checked her device. They said she'd be locked for 24 hours, but only 13 had passed. This seemed to be a glitch, but a welcome one, of course. She opened the gate, and stepped back to freedom.
"Please. Remove your things... from. The evidence ... locker. Before you go."
Taneesha Jones did so, opening the locker in which they'd stored her things. One Chinese pistol, one outfit made of brahmin skin, her container of Abraxo Cleaner, one cheap plastic ashtray. A bobby pin, one pack of cigarettes. And finally, her empty hypodermic needle. Taneesha looked for the lead pipe she'd been using as a hand weapon, but remembered she'd left this behind somewhere. Or maybe it'd been stolen. Her 10 millimeter rounds were not in the locker. But this was no matter, she'd simply scavenge some more, at some point. But for now, she was free!
Once outside, she spent just a few seconds breathing precious Wasteland air before a vicious mongrel of a dog attacked. Taneesha reached for her pistol, only to remember it was unloaded. "Dammit!" The dog was on her. It bit her arm. She had no choice but to pummel it with her fist. She high-kicked its face!
"Come on," she said. "I got more of this."
But the battle wasn't going so well. She not wearing armor, and not very good with unarmed combat. Really missing that old, rusted pipe. Angered and frustrated, she scurried around the jail's side. The dog bit at her again, snapping at her leg! Only this time, it also made a whelping noise. Somebody else had struck it, or something. She winced as a gun fired nearby. Held her fists, blocking the dog's teeth. Somebody was rushing toward the fight! Whoever it was, he swapped his gun for some sort of hand-weapon. Whatever this hand weapon was, it was motorized. It began making a buzzing sort of noise. Like a power saw, perhaps. The man swung at the dog with this device, whatever it was, killing the beast instantly.
Thumping and thumping. Her heartbeat, guzzling adrenaline. Taneesha stumbled. Unclenched her fists. Breathed the fresh air she'd been meaning to breathe just a minute before. What kind of a moment back to freedom was that?
Suddenly, she remembered the man who just saved her, who was standing right there. He put his power saw device away, and looked at her solemnly.
"What's up, princess. Remember me?" he asked.
---------------------------------
"You have serrrved. All your time."
High kick!
The man with the Ripper
Appealing and appalling
I wonder if I even SetOwneship to a bed, then forgot about this! Could be. Acadian -- Aw, hey thanks! I spent two entire in-game days in real-time to write that last chapter. No waiting, although hours did pass more quickly as she slept a couple times.
I think she may be related to the Weet Bandit in spirit.
Like a reincarnation kind of thing. Lopov -- No Lopov.
------------------------------------------
Anyone 'lucky' enough to live and grow during the Twenty-Third century Anno Domini would have faced and witnessed plenty of situations unfamiliar to those who'd lived and grew during the Twenty-First.
Motorized transportation, for example. A necessary facet of the past, now permanently halted -- equating to hunks of scrap metal at best. The concept of real estate only existed if one had enough guns and ammo to protect it. Malls and markets and refineries and industrial firms and car dealerships which once generated piles of cash, now inhabited by monsters and outlaws. Indeed, the use of the word "outlaw" is in fact an untruth. How could somebody be an outlaw if there was no law?
The notion of law. Here was one idea from the past which Lucas Simms tried to bring into the present, for better or worse. Law and justice, retained from history books, would hopefully equate to order. In Megaton, at least.
During his tenure as "mayor" and sheriff there had been a number of thefts, a smattering of unprovoked assaults, and even one murder. These incidents were uncommon, but when they occurred everyone would throw their hands up, as if to say that's how it goes, nowadays.
Wasteland Justice, this was called. The furor which took place after each of these incidents was never pretty. Suddenly it became 'every man for himself', as the saying goes. Whoever caused one of these incidents (known as "crimes" in the history books) was suddenly surrounded, quickly beaten down by others. Gunfire would erupt from Moriarty's, perhaps. The incident-causer (known as a "criminal" or "perp" in the history books) would be chased out of town, at best. Killed on the spot, at worst. At the most extreme, occasional innocent dwellers of Megaton had gotten caught in moments of friendly fire, as everyone clamored to get a shot into the perp at once. Shots would get fired, but somebody would miss, and some guy or gal unrelated to the original crime would now have some lead in his or her gut. Technically there were now two perps, if we're to go by how law worked in those books from the past.
In the spring of 2277, Sherriff Simms decided to broaden his role to Mayor Simms. Lucas had been the one who'd been enacting whatever rules there were in Megaton, now he'd be the one writing those rules, as well. "I am your sheriff," he told his townspeople, "and now I'll also be your mayor, when the need arises."
It had indeed arisen in his opinion, and in the opinion of plenty others. Some folks preferred the way it was, while others wished to see themselves thrust out of their somewhat barbaric way of doing things. "Some of us have children, you know..." these latter folks argued most convincingly.
Wheels rolled into motion quickly. Lucas read those books, and then drafted a slew of ideas. He explained them all to other prominent members of Megaton society, many of whom had no idea how things were once done. These book-ideas became The Law of Megaton. Caps were allocated. A couple of tough-looking goons from Tenpenny Tower were hired. Both were deputized as officers, earning 30 caps a day, plus free lodging.
The final approved motion was made for what would become Megaton's jail. Over the summer, a Quonset-styled hut was built just outside of town. Here was Megaton's jail, where the perps, the criminals, would be taken, assuming they chose to be incarcerated instead of paying caps. As for those who resisted arrest? They'd face a bit of Wasteland Justice, just like in the old days.
Taneesha did not wish to face the 'old days' sort of justice, nor did she pay any caps to rid her crime. So it was into the Quonset-styled jail (off to the slammer, as they say) she'd been brought the night before.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
11:22 PM. Sunday, August 27, 2277
They told her she'd be locked for 24 hours, which didn't sound so bad. What they didn't tell her was who (what) she'd be locked up with.
Clank.... fwa ... Clank! ...fwa.... Clank!...fwa
Jail Bot, a two-hundred forty year-old RobCo Protectron, clanked her way, stood in one of its three destinated patrol spots. Jail Bot had been programmed to walk in a triangular pattern on the other side of her cell's gate, over and over. According to those who brought her here, the bot had also been programmed to dispense food, and would be in charge of unlocking the gate when her sentence was over.
Taneesha poised herself awkwardly before her cell's gate. "So, you are supposed to give me food, right? Well I'm hungry."
"Protect. And. Serve.," the robot answered, before clanking away.
They'd taken away all her things, but oddly allowed her to keep her solar-powered handheld device. She powered this on. Checked the time. 23:16 it said. According to the jail's rulebook, it was too late to get food; Jail Bot had been programmed to do so only in the morning and early evening, and it was now nearer to midnight. But she didn't care. She was hungry! She'd try again.
She waited 30 seconds for the robot to return in front of her cell. "Hey you *flipping* *bleeping* hunk of junk, I said I want more food! You gonna give me some, or what?"
"Protect. And. Serve."
"Oh my god."
Another 30 seconds, the robot clanked its patrol.
"Hey, Sorry I called you a *flipping* hunk of junk. But really. You can't give me no food right now? I am a human being. And we human beings use something called food for energy. We aren't powered by nuclear fission, or whatever the heck. Come on, just once. Break the rules. I won't say nothing."
"Mooove. Along. Please."
"Oh my god. Lord help me."
It would be the longest 24 hours of her life, it seemed.
[][][][][][][][][][][]
8:44 AM. Monday, August 27, 2277
'Hungry ... pard'ner?" Jail Bot asked the next morning, to Taneesha's relief. She had a small hangover after last night's drinking session, and was worried the damn thing might not feed her at all. It would malfunction, or whatever. She'd be stuck in here for days, a corpse by the time they found her. "I have a .. deelightful ... Assortment of food."
She was given a stick of squirrel meat, a box of Sugar Bombs, and a Nuka Cola. Yum. She ate with a near sort of fervor, then laid back on the jail's cot. Tried to sleep, but she'd already slept the previous night, so this was impossible. She checked her device. Sixteen hours to go.
Oh lord help me
Being cooped up in here. Nothing to do. Not even a book to read. Bored. She had never been so bored.
She found a rusty nail on the floor, something which they had apparently missed while cleaning up. She grabbed the nail. Began to scratch it onto a nearby wall, seeing if it would leave any marks. It did. So she scratched her name onto the wall. But not her real name.
VICIOUS 2277
She carved into the wall's corrugated metal, the rusted nail making little shrieking noises as she worked. There. She left her mark. Looked over at the Jail Bot, but apparently it had not been programmed to do anything about people who wanted to write or doodle on the jail's walls. Taneesha placed the nail back on the floor, in a rather obvious spot. Mm hmm. Let the next guest of this wholesome and fine establisment also carve his or her mark.
Four more hours of this madness. Though the jail was air-conditioned, it got quite warm as its prisoner stirred. Taneesha continued to doodle on her wall. And then finally, Jail Bot's release programming kicked in.
"You have. Serrrved. All your time," its metallic voice blared. "You ... are ... now ... free to go."
Taneesha grinned, and checked her device. They said she'd be locked for 24 hours, but only 13 had passed. This seemed to be a glitch, but a welcome one, of course. She opened the gate, and stepped back to freedom.
"Please. Remove your things... from. The evidence ... locker. Before you go."
Taneesha Jones did so, opening the locker in which they'd stored her things. One Chinese pistol, one outfit made of brahmin skin, her container of Abraxo Cleaner, one cheap plastic ashtray. A bobby pin, one pack of cigarettes. And finally, her empty hypodermic needle. Taneesha looked for the lead pipe she'd been using as a hand weapon, but remembered she'd left this behind somewhere. Or maybe it'd been stolen. Her 10 millimeter rounds were not in the locker. But this was no matter, she'd simply scavenge some more, at some point. But for now, she was free!
Once outside, she spent just a few seconds breathing precious Wasteland air before a vicious mongrel of a dog attacked. Taneesha reached for her pistol, only to remember it was unloaded. "Dammit!" The dog was on her. It bit her arm. She had no choice but to pummel it with her fist. She high-kicked its face!
"Come on," she said. "I got more of this."
But the battle wasn't going so well. She not wearing armor, and not very good with unarmed combat. Really missing that old, rusted pipe. Angered and frustrated, she scurried around the jail's side. The dog bit at her again, snapping at her leg! Only this time, it also made a whelping noise. Somebody else had struck it, or something. She winced as a gun fired nearby. Held her fists, blocking the dog's teeth. Somebody was rushing toward the fight! Whoever it was, he swapped his gun for some sort of hand-weapon. Whatever this hand weapon was, it was motorized. It began making a buzzing sort of noise. Like a power saw, perhaps. The man swung at the dog with this device, whatever it was, killing the beast instantly.
Thumping and thumping. Her heartbeat, guzzling adrenaline. Taneesha stumbled. Unclenched her fists. Breathed the fresh air she'd been meaning to breathe just a minute before. What kind of a moment back to freedom was that?
Suddenly, she remembered the man who just saved her, who was standing right there. He put his power saw device away, and looked at her solemnly.
"What's up, princess. Remember me?" he asked.
---------------------------------
"You have serrrved. All your time."
High kick!
The man with the Ripper
Appealing and appalling
You did a great job of making Miss VD’s stay in jail interesting to read – even if she didn’t find the time interesting. Gosh, can’t a girl get a midnight snack? Oh well, it was worth it in the morning to feast on squirrel meat, sugar bombs and nuka cola – breakfast of champions and perps. What a conversationalist that jail bot is. Funny how Taneesha takes up nail writing to pass the time.
Freedom is. . . dangerous. Fortunately more so for the dog than Miss VD as she is rescued by the mysterious Chainsaw Prince.
Freedom is. . . dangerous. Fortunately more so for the dog than Miss VD as she is rescued by the mysterious Chainsaw Prince.
Interesting little bit of Wasteland Criminal Justice history at the start there.
Deputy Droid?
Uh oh, the princess was rescued, but it looks like she might have gotten out of the frying pan and fallen into the fire.
Deputy Droid?
Uh oh, the princess was rescued, but it looks like she might have gotten out of the frying pan and fallen into the fire.
Thanks so much. You folks are encouraging.
In the last episode: Taneesha Jones got out of jail, but was attacked by a Vicious Dog. A man with a ripper saved her, so who is this man?
"What's up with you, princess? Doncha remember me?"
It was him, the creep she had heard several nights before in that restroom. She'd been studying the sound of his voice in her head over the last few days, so she'd be able to recognize it anywhere. Only now, there was no door between Taneesha and him. Nor was she trapped inside a metal stall with her pants literally down. Nothing now to impede her aim. She grabbed her pistol. Raised it quickly at the creep's chest, even though it was unloaded. Kept her face steady. Hopefully he wouldn't realize she was bluffing.
"Oh I remember you fine," Taneesha said, aiming for center mass.
The man did not flinch, not one bit. He'd had a gun pointed at him before, no doubt. He was wearing an ordinary white T-shirt and tan overalls, but what stood out immediately to Taneesha was his hair, which was as white as a cue ball.
"You's Vicious, right?" he asked. "My name's Q Tip."
"Q Tip, eh? Hence you got yourself some dyed white hair."
She checked her peripheral vision, darting her eyes slightly from left to right, checking to see if anyone else was about to surprise. She listened as well to the sounds nearby. Nobody was coming.
"Eh, look," he replied casually, as if a weapon was not in his face. "Didn't mean to startle you the other night, alright? That was rude. Shouldn't a done that. The hell was I thinkin'?"
But she was angry. "What are you now, following me?" The wounds from that dog did not matter, the dull pain they were causing, pushed aside. "Well, you want to not make that a habit, okay? I will mess you up, you ratched cueball-headed dope. Don't make me use this."
She snapped the gun's clip slightly out and then back in. --SNICK!-- Though the clip was empty, she was hoping its quiet metallic noise would cause some sort of reaction.
"Eh, whoa whoa... I come in peace, sister. Put that gun away."
Taneesha Jones did not.
"Look here. I am putting my own gun down here. Right on the ground," he said calmly.
To her surprise he did just that, laid his own 10 mil sidearm on the dirt before her, all while keeping eye contact. He then laid the buzz-saw weapon he'd used to kill that dog a few moments ago. To further this odd intent, he kicked both weapons aside, out of his own possible reach.
"What is this? Why are you here?"
"Like I said, I come in peace. Hope not to leave in pieces, Vicious."
She blinked at hearing her nickname. How the *flip* does he know who I am?
"Hah, that's right, I know your name. You is Miss Vicious, right?"
She said nothing. Her gun unwavering its aim.
"Come on, now. You want to shoot me here? Well go ahead and do so. I just laid all my pieces before you. You can take me out now," he put his hands up in a 'you got me' sort of gesture. "But what then? Whatcha gonna do next? ... Head back into town? Where you know you is wanted?"
Taneesha flinched, suddenly curious. Her gun lowered a notch. "What is this? You know about my troubles in Megaton? How? Why are you here?"
"Dogmaster," he said, folding his arms, a slight smirk on his face. "Dogmaster sent me."
The gun lowered entirely, though she kept it gripped in both hands. "Oh I see. That idiot gooftang sent you. And why would he send you, and not some group of half-trained raiders?"
"Raiders. Funny you should mention raiders," his smirk was gone. "After what you did in Fairfax Ruins a couple weeks ago, it is indeed funny you would mention raiders."
"What about them?" she asked. Couldn't help herself. Her curiosity boiling by now.
"Dogmaster is impressed by what you did there. In Fairfax Ruins. You killed all those raiders, thinks he, and then you snuck by that whole team the dog sent. His best men and women. You got by them all, then made it here to Megaton. Like I said, Dogmaster is impressed by all that."
Taneesha grimaced, not exactly proud. "Well, I had nothing to do with any of that. You can tell him I said so personally. That was the Outcasts. The ones in Fort Independence. If you're looking for a scapegoat, blame them, not me."
"Okay, we know," the white-haired Q Tip said. "We know you didn't kill them all. Dogmaster though, he don't care. You know how he is. He wants what he wants, sister. And right now what he wants is you."
Taneesha said nothing in reply, her gun now hanging limply from her dominant hand.
"I am headed back to the Springvale school right now," the white-haired man said. "I want you to come and follow me there. You got yourself a home with us, Vicious."
She made no reply. Her face rather sad.
"Here. Take my rounds," he said, reaching into his pack, and handing her a box of bullets. "And my gun too. That is yours, now. See? I mean no harm."
She paused. But a few seconds later made her decision, and threw her Chinese pistol to the side. She took his box of 10 millimeter rounds, and then reached down to the ground. Grabbed the gun as well. Checked its action --snick!-- which was good. The piece was well-taken care of, she could see. Not the junk she'd just tossed aside.
"But I want that ripper back," he said. "That you can't have."
Taneesha remained silent, thinking of her options at this point in time, nibbling the inside of her cheek.
"I got somethin' else for you," he said, handing her three unwrapped Psycho syringes. There was a smile in his voice, now. "I know you been wanting to have those. From what I hear, those are the reason you was locked up in the first place."
Her eyes goggled a bit while she otherwise tried to keep a straight face. Three syringes of Psycho. She could not help herself as she grabbed all three.
"Look," she finally spoke. "Really, I had nothing to do with those raiders in Farifax. That was the Outcasts who did all that."
"Uh huh," the man with the white hair winked. "You gonna follow me to Springvale now or what? Come on, now. You got us both lookin' stupid out here, for all the deathclaws and mutants to see."
Again, she said nothing. Weighing her options, which suddenly seemed slimmer and dimmer.
"Well I did my part," the man named Q Tip shrugged. "I'm headed back to school. If you do decide to follow, make sure you speak to Slick Rick first, when you get back in there."
"Slick Rick?" Taneesha asked, surprised. "Slick Rick is in Springvale Elementary School?"
"He is. He wants to see you, too. Make sure you talk to him first, before you talk to any of the others. Because not all of us at Springvale are happy by what you did in Fairfax. Or what they think you did."
The man calling himself Q Tip turned, then sprinted quickly away to the east.
------------------------------------------------------
Megaton's Jail
Land overview -- (the jail is on the right, and Megaton is that vague shape on the left.
Aiming
Q Tip
Taneesha Interrupted
----------------------------------------------------------------
"What's up with you, princess? Doncha remember me?"
It was him, the creep she had heard several nights before in that restroom. She'd been studying the sound of his voice in her head over the last few days, so she'd be able to recognize it anywhere. Only now, there was no door between Taneesha and him. Nor was she trapped inside a metal stall with her pants literally down. Nothing now to impede her aim. She grabbed her pistol. Raised it quickly at the creep's chest, even though it was unloaded. Kept her face steady. Hopefully he wouldn't realize she was bluffing.
"Oh I remember you fine," Taneesha said, aiming for center mass.
The man did not flinch, not one bit. He'd had a gun pointed at him before, no doubt. He was wearing an ordinary white T-shirt and tan overalls, but what stood out immediately to Taneesha was his hair, which was as white as a cue ball.
"You's Vicious, right?" he asked. "My name's Q Tip."
"Q Tip, eh? Hence you got yourself some dyed white hair."
She checked her peripheral vision, darting her eyes slightly from left to right, checking to see if anyone else was about to surprise. She listened as well to the sounds nearby. Nobody was coming.
"Eh, look," he replied casually, as if a weapon was not in his face. "Didn't mean to startle you the other night, alright? That was rude. Shouldn't a done that. The hell was I thinkin'?"
But she was angry. "What are you now, following me?" The wounds from that dog did not matter, the dull pain they were causing, pushed aside. "Well, you want to not make that a habit, okay? I will mess you up, you ratched cueball-headed dope. Don't make me use this."
She snapped the gun's clip slightly out and then back in. --SNICK!-- Though the clip was empty, she was hoping its quiet metallic noise would cause some sort of reaction.
"Eh, whoa whoa... I come in peace, sister. Put that gun away."
Taneesha Jones did not.
"Look here. I am putting my own gun down here. Right on the ground," he said calmly.
To her surprise he did just that, laid his own 10 mil sidearm on the dirt before her, all while keeping eye contact. He then laid the buzz-saw weapon he'd used to kill that dog a few moments ago. To further this odd intent, he kicked both weapons aside, out of his own possible reach.
"What is this? Why are you here?"
"Like I said, I come in peace. Hope not to leave in pieces, Vicious."
She blinked at hearing her nickname. How the *flip* does he know who I am?
"Hah, that's right, I know your name. You is Miss Vicious, right?"
She said nothing. Her gun unwavering its aim.
"Come on, now. You want to shoot me here? Well go ahead and do so. I just laid all my pieces before you. You can take me out now," he put his hands up in a 'you got me' sort of gesture. "But what then? Whatcha gonna do next? ... Head back into town? Where you know you is wanted?"
Taneesha flinched, suddenly curious. Her gun lowered a notch. "What is this? You know about my troubles in Megaton? How? Why are you here?"
"Dogmaster," he said, folding his arms, a slight smirk on his face. "Dogmaster sent me."
The gun lowered entirely, though she kept it gripped in both hands. "Oh I see. That idiot gooftang sent you. And why would he send you, and not some group of half-trained raiders?"
"Raiders. Funny you should mention raiders," his smirk was gone. "After what you did in Fairfax Ruins a couple weeks ago, it is indeed funny you would mention raiders."
"What about them?" she asked. Couldn't help herself. Her curiosity boiling by now.
"Dogmaster is impressed by what you did there. In Fairfax Ruins. You killed all those raiders, thinks he, and then you snuck by that whole team the dog sent. His best men and women. You got by them all, then made it here to Megaton. Like I said, Dogmaster is impressed by all that."
Taneesha grimaced, not exactly proud. "Well, I had nothing to do with any of that. You can tell him I said so personally. That was the Outcasts. The ones in Fort Independence. If you're looking for a scapegoat, blame them, not me."
"Okay, we know," the white-haired Q Tip said. "We know you didn't kill them all. Dogmaster though, he don't care. You know how he is. He wants what he wants, sister. And right now what he wants is you."
Taneesha said nothing in reply, her gun now hanging limply from her dominant hand.
"I am headed back to the Springvale school right now," the white-haired man said. "I want you to come and follow me there. You got yourself a home with us, Vicious."
She made no reply. Her face rather sad.
"Here. Take my rounds," he said, reaching into his pack, and handing her a box of bullets. "And my gun too. That is yours, now. See? I mean no harm."
She paused. But a few seconds later made her decision, and threw her Chinese pistol to the side. She took his box of 10 millimeter rounds, and then reached down to the ground. Grabbed the gun as well. Checked its action --snick!-- which was good. The piece was well-taken care of, she could see. Not the junk she'd just tossed aside.
"But I want that ripper back," he said. "That you can't have."
Taneesha remained silent, thinking of her options at this point in time, nibbling the inside of her cheek.
"I got somethin' else for you," he said, handing her three unwrapped Psycho syringes. There was a smile in his voice, now. "I know you been wanting to have those. From what I hear, those are the reason you was locked up in the first place."
Her eyes goggled a bit while she otherwise tried to keep a straight face. Three syringes of Psycho. She could not help herself as she grabbed all three.
"Look," she finally spoke. "Really, I had nothing to do with those raiders in Farifax. That was the Outcasts who did all that."
"Uh huh," the man with the white hair winked. "You gonna follow me to Springvale now or what? Come on, now. You got us both lookin' stupid out here, for all the deathclaws and mutants to see."
Again, she said nothing. Weighing her options, which suddenly seemed slimmer and dimmer.
"Well I did my part," the man named Q Tip shrugged. "I'm headed back to school. If you do decide to follow, make sure you speak to Slick Rick first, when you get back in there."
"Slick Rick?" Taneesha asked, surprised. "Slick Rick is in Springvale Elementary School?"
"He is. He wants to see you, too. Make sure you talk to him first, before you talk to any of the others. Because not all of us at Springvale are happy by what you did in Fairfax. Or what they think you did."
The man calling himself Q Tip turned, then sprinted quickly away to the east.
------------------------------------------------------
Megaton's Jail
Land overview -- (the jail is on the right, and Megaton is that vague shape on the left.
Aiming
Q Tip
Taneesha Interrupted
I like the little reminder of what happened 'in the previous episode'.
So the Chainsaw Prince is named Q-Tip. Well, either name's as odd as the other.
Gosh, he sure got off to a bad start making his first intro when Taneesha was in the ladies room! No wonder she's reluctant to trust him.
Well, she did upgrade her pistol and now has more options to consider.
So the Chainsaw Prince is named Q-Tip. Well, either name's as odd as the other.
Gosh, he sure got off to a bad start making his first intro when Taneesha was in the ladies room! No wonder she's reluctant to trust him.
Well, she did upgrade her pistol and now has more options to consider.
Q Tip, I love your names! The Chainsaw Prince is pretty good too!
Looks like Tips wants to lure her back into Raider territory. He talks a good game. But who can trust a Raider? Though Miss V might show up later and find out that Stormcrow had already killed them all.
Looks like Tips wants to lure her back into Raider territory. He talks a good game. But who can trust a Raider? Though Miss V might show up later and find out that Stormcrow had already killed them all.
Miss Florens: Ha ha ha ha that is true! Those raiders have been pwned by our wicked-awesome tooins who buff their stats over and over and over!
Q Tip is a real-life rapper from my 17 year-old's generation, although my Q Tip Is supposed to actually get his name from his appearance.
Acadian: I write those reminders for ME as well as you all. It's sort of like in TV shows. Last week on Miss Vicious Delicious!!! .... But it also helps me get focused. Q Tip is going to have an interesting story all his own. I don't exactly know where his story will lead, or that of Slick Rick or anybody else except Vicious. In fact the overall story is going to be crazy. Just you wait and see!
I am going to put this story on hiatus. Two reasons: I am getting more inspired by Skyrim, and also Lopov is not around lately. Since Lopov has two children + the COVID, he hasn't been gaming at all, but he has been working in the GECK. He added a bunch of content via the GECK into Vicious' story, and so I want to wait until he comes back before the story resumes.
Thanks so much.
Q Tip is a real-life rapper from my 17 year-old's generation, although my Q Tip Is supposed to actually get his name from his appearance.
Acadian: I write those reminders for ME as well as you all.
It's sort of like in TV shows. Last week on Miss Vicious Delicious!!! .... But it also helps me get focused. Q Tip is going to have an interesting story all his own. I don't exactly know where his story will lead, or that of Slick Rick or anybody else except Vicious. In fact the overall story is going to be crazy. Just you wait and see! I am going to put this story on hiatus.
Two reasons: I am getting more inspired by Skyrim, and also Lopov is not around lately. Since Lopov has two children + the COVID, he hasn't been gaming at all, but he has been working in the GECK. He added a bunch of content via the GECK into Vicious' story, and so I want to wait until he comes back before the story resumes. Thanks so much.
I am returning to MVD today. The first portion of this next chapter was originally written back in November. The second portion will be me gaming, in real-time.
Last we saw, Vicious had been staying in Megaton for a few days, after deciding to avoid the Capitol Wasteland for awhile. The Wasteland can be a dangerous place, after all!
She was offered a place to stay (um... at Lucy West's house) but declined. With her funds getting low, without a way to earn extra caps, yet fighting an addiction to Psycho, Vicious got desperate. Stole some chems from Megaton's Clinic. Got arrested, and was thrown into Megaton's brand-new jail.
Upon her release she was force-greeted by Q Tip *PIC* who has informed Vicious that Dogmaster, the Potomac-area top raider boss, wants her back with the Raiders. Will Vicious decide to rejoin them?
-------------------
Chapter 14: Springvale Elementary
Before the bombs dropped, Springvale Elementary was located in Virginia's tenth congressional district, right on the edge of Fairfax County. Quaintly-set homes, mostly ranches and split-levels, surrounded the school. A strip mall with a small drive-in movie theatre was located to the south. Crosswalks and stoplights kept local pedestrians and traffic orderly. Conveniently, a twelve-aisle supermarket was just down the hill. The Potomac river was also blocks away, for those who wanted a scenic jog, or a walk along its slow-moving tides.
What a wonderful place to raise one's kids!
Springvale educated children ages five through eleven; basically Kindergarten through 5th Grade. It catered mostly to the town of Springvale of course (population 48,051 in the year 2077), although some students might also get bused in from Fairfax or McLean.
Like a lot of schools just outside the D.C. perimeter, Springvale housed a rather broad cross-section of young society. A Springvale student could be the child of anybody, from the most mundane members of the surrounding populace to the most prominent. The son of a ten dollar-an-hour janitor could start his education at Springvale just as possibly as the daughter of a high-powered senator, who preferred her daughter be educated in public schools, for whatever reason. This was something the school's leaders were discreetly proud of.
As Mrs. Carter, Springvale's principal, often said over the loudspeaker each morning "You're all Special at Springvale!" Back then, most students and staff believed her.
Springvale Elementary also survived the blasts, somehow. When the bombs fell and the world seemed as though it would come to an end, some of the school's ceilings and walls crumbled into rubble of course, especially on its north side. But most of them still stood. The pupils and educators who attended and instructed at Springvale in the year 2077 would be completely shocked to discover what the fate of their beloved institution would be in the year 2277.
In 2077, Springvale's roll call totaled 442, its number of honor students a remarkable record of 34. Tardiness was down to 1.9%, the school's dropout rate an outstanding zero.
In 2277, its occupants usually totaled less than forty, mostly comprised of bands of roamers who never stayed in one place for too long. In 2277, every last one of the former school's occupants was a thief, a murderer, an addict, a whore, or some combination of all these. Its cellar area was rumored to contain gigantic, fire-breathing ants, its former classrooms always a disastrous mess of dust and dirt and overturned desks. Though the school still contained its desks, its chalkboards, and even its computer monitors, most of these were broken, bashed-in, and useless hulks which got placed and kicked around at random.
And the man delegated to oversee what remained of this once proud and prosperous school? This man was a tall degenerate whose given name was Richard Dupont, also known as 'Slick Rick'.
08.27.77, 12:00 Noon
Taneesha Jones, otherwise known as Miss Vicious, approached what remained of Springvale Elementary, whose long-ago principal used to declare "You're all special at Springvale!" each morning over the school's public announcement system. Nowhere to be seen were the throngs of populace which once flourished the town; no children, no teachers, nobody at all, in fact. As she approached the former educational facility, Taneesha walked calmly, but with a false sense of confidence.
A half-hour ago, she had found an abandoned bus she could hide in, and then injected one of the Psychos given to her by Q Tip, that white-haired raider recruiter. With this chem in her system, her blood was boiling by now; her senses super-aware. She forced herself to walk more slowly. Tried to calm her nerves. Patted her pockets, and was dismayed to find she was out of cigarettes. Looked this way and that, for any sort of ambush. Heard nothing but a couple cicadas. buzzing somewhere off in the distance. She knew that raiders often lurked on the north side of the building, goofing around and such. Fortunately, she was approaching from its south side.
The sun was hot, directly above. Taneesha realized she was sweating. Q Tip had promised she'd be able to rejoin the raiders, but he'd also warned her that she must speak to Slick Rick first. Until she spoke to him, she was not yet one of them. It would be Rick who would decide whether she'd be inducted back into raider society, or not.
A half-hour ago, Taneesha Jones was unsure about all this. What if this is an ambush? she had thought.
But with a few dozen milliliters of liquid courage in her veins? The idea of returning to them didn't seem so bad.
Taneesha Jones neared the front doors of Springvale Elementary. Pondered a moment. Weighed her options just a moment more. I've been here before, thought she. Ain't no big thing. Just walk in, girl.
Taneesha Jones went back to school.
-------------------------
SEC display board
Going back to school
The first portion of this next chapter was originally written back in November. The second portion will be me gaming, in real-time. Last we saw, Vicious had been staying in Megaton for a few days, after deciding to avoid the Capitol Wasteland for awhile. The Wasteland can be a dangerous place, after all!
She was offered a place to stay (um... at Lucy West's house) but declined. With her funds getting low, without a way to earn extra caps, yet fighting an addiction to Psycho, Vicious got desperate. Stole some chems from Megaton's Clinic. Got arrested, and was thrown into Megaton's brand-new jail. Upon her release she was force-greeted by Q Tip *PIC* who has informed Vicious that Dogmaster, the Potomac-area top raider boss, wants her back with the Raiders. Will Vicious decide to rejoin them?
-------------------
Chapter 14: Springvale Elementary
Before the bombs dropped, Springvale Elementary was located in Virginia's tenth congressional district, right on the edge of Fairfax County. Quaintly-set homes, mostly ranches and split-levels, surrounded the school. A strip mall with a small drive-in movie theatre was located to the south. Crosswalks and stoplights kept local pedestrians and traffic orderly. Conveniently, a twelve-aisle supermarket was just down the hill. The Potomac river was also blocks away, for those who wanted a scenic jog, or a walk along its slow-moving tides.
What a wonderful place to raise one's kids!
Springvale educated children ages five through eleven; basically Kindergarten through 5th Grade. It catered mostly to the town of Springvale of course (population 48,051 in the year 2077), although some students might also get bused in from Fairfax or McLean.
Like a lot of schools just outside the D.C. perimeter, Springvale housed a rather broad cross-section of young society. A Springvale student could be the child of anybody, from the most mundane members of the surrounding populace to the most prominent. The son of a ten dollar-an-hour janitor could start his education at Springvale just as possibly as the daughter of a high-powered senator, who preferred her daughter be educated in public schools, for whatever reason. This was something the school's leaders were discreetly proud of.
As Mrs. Carter, Springvale's principal, often said over the loudspeaker each morning "You're all Special at Springvale!" Back then, most students and staff believed her.
Springvale Elementary also survived the blasts, somehow. When the bombs fell and the world seemed as though it would come to an end, some of the school's ceilings and walls crumbled into rubble of course, especially on its north side. But most of them still stood. The pupils and educators who attended and instructed at Springvale in the year 2077 would be completely shocked to discover what the fate of their beloved institution would be in the year 2277.
In 2077, Springvale's roll call totaled 442, its number of honor students a remarkable record of 34. Tardiness was down to 1.9%, the school's dropout rate an outstanding zero.
In 2277, its occupants usually totaled less than forty, mostly comprised of bands of roamers who never stayed in one place for too long. In 2277, every last one of the former school's occupants was a thief, a murderer, an addict, a whore, or some combination of all these. Its cellar area was rumored to contain gigantic, fire-breathing ants, its former classrooms always a disastrous mess of dust and dirt and overturned desks. Though the school still contained its desks, its chalkboards, and even its computer monitors, most of these were broken, bashed-in, and useless hulks which got placed and kicked around at random.
And the man delegated to oversee what remained of this once proud and prosperous school? This man was a tall degenerate whose given name was Richard Dupont, also known as 'Slick Rick'.
[-[-[-[-[-[-[-[-
08.27.77, 12:00 Noon
Taneesha Jones, otherwise known as Miss Vicious, approached what remained of Springvale Elementary, whose long-ago principal used to declare "You're all special at Springvale!" each morning over the school's public announcement system. Nowhere to be seen were the throngs of populace which once flourished the town; no children, no teachers, nobody at all, in fact. As she approached the former educational facility, Taneesha walked calmly, but with a false sense of confidence.
A half-hour ago, she had found an abandoned bus she could hide in, and then injected one of the Psychos given to her by Q Tip, that white-haired raider recruiter. With this chem in her system, her blood was boiling by now; her senses super-aware. She forced herself to walk more slowly. Tried to calm her nerves. Patted her pockets, and was dismayed to find she was out of cigarettes. Looked this way and that, for any sort of ambush. Heard nothing but a couple cicadas. buzzing somewhere off in the distance. She knew that raiders often lurked on the north side of the building, goofing around and such. Fortunately, she was approaching from its south side.
The sun was hot, directly above. Taneesha realized she was sweating. Q Tip had promised she'd be able to rejoin the raiders, but he'd also warned her that she must speak to Slick Rick first. Until she spoke to him, she was not yet one of them. It would be Rick who would decide whether she'd be inducted back into raider society, or not.
A half-hour ago, Taneesha Jones was unsure about all this. What if this is an ambush? she had thought.
But with a few dozen milliliters of liquid courage in her veins? The idea of returning to them didn't seem so bad.
Taneesha Jones neared the front doors of Springvale Elementary. Pondered a moment. Weighed her options just a moment more. I've been here before, thought she. Ain't no big thing. Just walk in, girl.
Taneesha Jones went back to school.
-------------------------
SEC display board
Going back to school
As the feeling “do I really want to do this” sets in the pause has me sitting on the edge of my seat, eagerly awaiting the toll of the bell.
Thanks again for the 'In our previous episode' intro.
The first part of this was wonderfully done as you set the stage with what Springvale used to be - compared to its current state.
Can't wait to see if this is indeed an ambush or a pathway to a legit gig for Vicious.
The first part of this was wonderfully done as you set the stage with what Springvale used to be - compared to its current state.
Can't wait to see if this is indeed an ambush or a pathway to a legit gig for Vicious.
Oh noes Tan, don't go down that road! The ground's gone south...
This is not what most people mean when they say they are going back to school.
This is not what most people mean when they say they are going back to school.
Yes, macole, that bell is about to toll. Isn't it funny how the world of Fallout is sort of closer to what could happen here on Earth, sort of? Comparing Fallout to Elder Scrolls, that is. I can take several liberties because of this--using more 'modern' language, referring to the way things were, and so on. Whereas the Elder Scrolls universe is totally fictional.
Acadian: RaderOfTheLostArk influenced me with his Fallout: Florida story, so far as the background of Springvale Elementary goes. I'm still not entirely sure if there is an actual Springvale, Virginia. If so, I've never heard of the place. But I try to imagine what sort of school they'd have in their community, and what sort of students would go there. The thing about this area of the United States is it is very possible to rub elbows with a senator's daughter, or have an FBI safehouse located in my neighborhood, and not even know it. A lot of these adults have children, and a lot of these children can go to any middle-area sort of school of their choosing, as long as they fall into certain districts / zonings. So I try to imagine all of what was, and compare it to what is now.
SubRosa: now it sounds you you are yelling at your computer screen! Love your new avatar, by the way. It looks valiant.
Lopov: No Lopov. He'd better get here soon, he's going to miss his story additions!
-------------------------------------------
..,
Chapter 15: Returning to the Raiders
Taneesha Jones neared the front doors of Springvale Elementary. Pondered a moment. Weighed her options just a moment more. I've been here before, thought she. Ain't no big thing. Just walk in, girl.
But she didn't just do this. These were the doors which would define her coming future, and she knew this future would not be so brilliant, or glorious. Did she really have other options?
In the distant past, many students had also entered these doors day after day, defining their own futures, from dismal to promising. Taneesha had once wondered what these students must have been like. Did most of them show up every day with smiles on their faces? Gaily-painted posters advertising the Spring Play or latest talent show displayed in the school's front foyer? Did they cower under their desks (as she had once seen in an old bomb-safety newsreel) when the ground began to shake, as missile after missile found their nearby American targets? Perhaps so.
Taneesha had once wondered all these things. But at this moment, all she could think about? What's on the other side of that door. She readied the pistol Q Tip had given her, just in case. Then she scrambled inside, aiming, aiming, aiming left and right, high and low, like some heroine in one of the action flicks she had seen from America's past.
"Well look who it is," said a man with a smooth-talking baritone voice. "Miss Vicious Delicious. Been a long time, it seems like, since I seen you." The man walked calmly toward her, ignoring her gun and antics. Obviously, he had been waiting just inside for her.
Taneesha bit her lip, and waited a moment for the ambush. Which did not occur. "Been awhile since I seen you too, Slick." She looked down at her pistol, now unsure, now feeling a bit silly about her 'action hero' entrance. "So what's up? You want to tell me what's going on?"
"You can put that gun away, sister. Ain't nobody's gonna mess with you, nuh-uh. We already been knowin' all about you. What you done. Where you been. All-a that."
Taneesha took a moment to be sure, then holstered her piece. Took a look around. Relaxed as best she could, though it was tough with Psycho still running through her system. The school's front foyer, which she had once imagined to be gay and bright, now had a large cage in its middle. Several corpses had been strung from chains, hanging from the foyer's ceiling. Whatever that was about, she did not want to know.
Suddenly, she was angry.
"They said I didn't deliver those goods, but I DID!" she bolstered loudly, nearly yelling at Slick Rick, hoping whatever dumb-asses holed up in this dump might hear. "I DID what they told. And so there musta been some mix-up, or something. Whatever. And what the *ferk* did I get for this service? You all put me out in the middle of nowhere, that's what. Put me in that old Parkstroller suit. Got raiders out there takin' aim to kill a sister. THAT's what! As though they knew who I was, and when I'd be coming."
"Hey, easy there," said Slick with an 'ease-down' sort of gesture. "I got nothing to do with any of that. And anyway, uh, we're all good now, Vicious. You proved yourself good."
"My name ain't Vicious no more, it's --"
She stopped herself. Looked down at the floor, as if embarrassed.
"Huh?"
"Nothing," she said finally.
"Well look," Slick Rick continued, with a facial expression which any former used Chryslus dealer would try as he worked up to his pitch. "I am on your side. I know what you been through, and it wasn't right, okay?"
"Whatever," Taneesha / Vicious pouted. She shifted her weight, like a tardy schoolgirl must have once done when arriving late to this very institution.
"Hey, cheer up," he said. "And look here. I got something for you. Uh. We got something for you."
Slick Rick pointed to the floor, and she so she couldn't help but look to the box which had been placed there. Taneesha / Vicious looked inside. Picked up its contents with her own two hands, and was momentarily surprised. "This is for me?"
"Yep. That's a brand-new, perfect condition set of badlands-style armor, which I know was your favorite, yuh? And it's just for you. But it's like, a special set, okay? ... It signifies you, as a, uh, special sort of raider. Like, no one can mess with you now, yokay?"
Taneesha placed the upper part of the suit upon her chest area, as we in our own times might place a dress or a shirt upon our own upper-half in a modern department store. The armor's coloring was somewhere between tan and greyish, perfect for subterfuge amongst the Capitol Wasteland's bland and dried-out terrain. The suit also had a set of button-up gloves, and a series of fastening belts to keep everything tight and in place. Best of all was the long string of ammo, which were placed across the armor's chest padding. This ammo would be from some old bunker perhaps. Useless, and merely for show / intimidation; the powder in each round no longer potent after centuries of storage. But it was the sort of thing which would display to the world who its wearer was, and what this wearer could potentially be, if some intruder or enemy came too close.
"Go on Vicious, or uh... whatever your new name is, and take it outside. Put it on." He was now making some sort of shooing gesture.
"You want me to go outside?" she asked unsurely.
"Okay look." Slick Rick had his Used Chryslus face on again: half smiling, half something-else. It was the look of somebody who wants you to trust him, but for some reason you don't. Not entirely, anyway. "You need to go outside for awhile. Put that armor on. Wait about an hour or so, okay? While I ... uh... confer with my peoples in here, yuh? And then you can come back in here after that, okay? We should be all good then."
"I can't just walk in inside, yet, and see all the others?"
"No!" Slick Rick's voice rose abruptly. "Uh, I mean no. Not yet. I just gotta confer with my peoples in here, right? Then after that, we all good, okay?"
Though Taneesha (Miss Vicious) was anxious and unsure at Slick Rick's odd choice of words, she was also feeling a certain.... something. Gratitude? Perhaps. They were going to let her back into their family, it seemed. And though this was not the sort of family which would have once been featured in a Good Housekeeping magazine exposé, she at least knew this family was broad, and powerful. This family took care of its own, and defined its own rules. She'd always have somewhere to go, at least.
No more would she need to worry about slumming in Megaton, or anywhere else which could be termed more civilized-than-usual in the rough-and-rumble wasteland. Megaton, where no jobs were available, all the best houses were already taken, and one could get locked into the new jail just for stealing a syringeful of meds.
With the raiders she'd at least have a life, and a future, and maybe even some respect. All of this could be hers, she knew, if she chose to walk out that door, and don the armor set Rick was giving her. She'd already be dead (or nearly so) if they weren't offering her these very things.
She took a moment to decide, before walking out of Springvale Elementary.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Springvale Elementary Front Foyer
No schoolbell tolls here
Slick Rick
Changing clothes -- (argh, still can't get animation mod to work)
Miss Vicious Delicious
Isn't it funny how the world of Fallout is sort of closer to what could happen here on Earth, sort of? Comparing Fallout to Elder Scrolls, that is. I can take several liberties because of this--using more 'modern' language, referring to the way things were, and so on. Whereas the Elder Scrolls universe is totally fictional. Acadian: RaderOfTheLostArk influenced me with his Fallout: Florida story, so far as the background of Springvale Elementary goes. I'm still not entirely sure if there is an actual Springvale, Virginia. If so, I've never heard of the place. But I try to imagine what sort of school they'd have in their community, and what sort of students would go there. The thing about this area of the United States is it is very possible to rub elbows with a senator's daughter, or have an FBI safehouse located in my neighborhood, and not even know it. A lot of these adults have children, and a lot of these children can go to any middle-area sort of school of their choosing, as long as they fall into certain districts / zonings. So I try to imagine all of what was, and compare it to what is now.
SubRosa: now it sounds you you are yelling at your computer screen!
Love your new avatar, by the way. It looks valiant. Lopov: No Lopov.
He'd better get here soon, he's going to miss his story additions! -------------------------------------------
..,
Chapter 15: Returning to the Raiders
Taneesha Jones neared the front doors of Springvale Elementary. Pondered a moment. Weighed her options just a moment more. I've been here before, thought she. Ain't no big thing. Just walk in, girl.
But she didn't just do this. These were the doors which would define her coming future, and she knew this future would not be so brilliant, or glorious. Did she really have other options?
In the distant past, many students had also entered these doors day after day, defining their own futures, from dismal to promising. Taneesha had once wondered what these students must have been like. Did most of them show up every day with smiles on their faces? Gaily-painted posters advertising the Spring Play or latest talent show displayed in the school's front foyer? Did they cower under their desks (as she had once seen in an old bomb-safety newsreel) when the ground began to shake, as missile after missile found their nearby American targets? Perhaps so.
Taneesha had once wondered all these things. But at this moment, all she could think about? What's on the other side of that door. She readied the pistol Q Tip had given her, just in case. Then she scrambled inside, aiming, aiming, aiming left and right, high and low, like some heroine in one of the action flicks she had seen from America's past.
"Well look who it is," said a man with a smooth-talking baritone voice. "Miss Vicious Delicious. Been a long time, it seems like, since I seen you." The man walked calmly toward her, ignoring her gun and antics. Obviously, he had been waiting just inside for her.
Taneesha bit her lip, and waited a moment for the ambush. Which did not occur. "Been awhile since I seen you too, Slick." She looked down at her pistol, now unsure, now feeling a bit silly about her 'action hero' entrance. "So what's up? You want to tell me what's going on?"
"You can put that gun away, sister. Ain't nobody's gonna mess with you, nuh-uh. We already been knowin' all about you. What you done. Where you been. All-a that."
Taneesha took a moment to be sure, then holstered her piece. Took a look around. Relaxed as best she could, though it was tough with Psycho still running through her system. The school's front foyer, which she had once imagined to be gay and bright, now had a large cage in its middle. Several corpses had been strung from chains, hanging from the foyer's ceiling. Whatever that was about, she did not want to know.
Suddenly, she was angry.
"They said I didn't deliver those goods, but I DID!" she bolstered loudly, nearly yelling at Slick Rick, hoping whatever dumb-asses holed up in this dump might hear. "I DID what they told. And so there musta been some mix-up, or something. Whatever. And what the *ferk* did I get for this service? You all put me out in the middle of nowhere, that's what. Put me in that old Parkstroller suit. Got raiders out there takin' aim to kill a sister. THAT's what! As though they knew who I was, and when I'd be coming."
"Hey, easy there," said Slick with an 'ease-down' sort of gesture. "I got nothing to do with any of that. And anyway, uh, we're all good now, Vicious. You proved yourself good."
"My name ain't Vicious no more, it's --"
She stopped herself. Looked down at the floor, as if embarrassed.
"Huh?"
"Nothing," she said finally.
"Well look," Slick Rick continued, with a facial expression which any former used Chryslus dealer would try as he worked up to his pitch. "I am on your side. I know what you been through, and it wasn't right, okay?"
"Whatever," Taneesha / Vicious pouted. She shifted her weight, like a tardy schoolgirl must have once done when arriving late to this very institution.
"Hey, cheer up," he said. "And look here. I got something for you. Uh. We got something for you."
Slick Rick pointed to the floor, and she so she couldn't help but look to the box which had been placed there. Taneesha / Vicious looked inside. Picked up its contents with her own two hands, and was momentarily surprised. "This is for me?"
"Yep. That's a brand-new, perfect condition set of badlands-style armor, which I know was your favorite, yuh? And it's just for you. But it's like, a special set, okay? ... It signifies you, as a, uh, special sort of raider. Like, no one can mess with you now, yokay?"
Taneesha placed the upper part of the suit upon her chest area, as we in our own times might place a dress or a shirt upon our own upper-half in a modern department store. The armor's coloring was somewhere between tan and greyish, perfect for subterfuge amongst the Capitol Wasteland's bland and dried-out terrain. The suit also had a set of button-up gloves, and a series of fastening belts to keep everything tight and in place. Best of all was the long string of ammo, which were placed across the armor's chest padding. This ammo would be from some old bunker perhaps. Useless, and merely for show / intimidation; the powder in each round no longer potent after centuries of storage. But it was the sort of thing which would display to the world who its wearer was, and what this wearer could potentially be, if some intruder or enemy came too close.
"Go on Vicious, or uh... whatever your new name is, and take it outside. Put it on." He was now making some sort of shooing gesture.
"You want me to go outside?" she asked unsurely.
"Okay look." Slick Rick had his Used Chryslus face on again: half smiling, half something-else. It was the look of somebody who wants you to trust him, but for some reason you don't. Not entirely, anyway. "You need to go outside for awhile. Put that armor on. Wait about an hour or so, okay? While I ... uh... confer with my peoples in here, yuh? And then you can come back in here after that, okay? We should be all good then."
"I can't just walk in inside, yet, and see all the others?"
"No!" Slick Rick's voice rose abruptly. "Uh, I mean no. Not yet. I just gotta confer with my peoples in here, right? Then after that, we all good, okay?"
Though Taneesha (Miss Vicious) was anxious and unsure at Slick Rick's odd choice of words, she was also feeling a certain.... something. Gratitude? Perhaps. They were going to let her back into their family, it seemed. And though this was not the sort of family which would have once been featured in a Good Housekeeping magazine exposé, she at least knew this family was broad, and powerful. This family took care of its own, and defined its own rules. She'd always have somewhere to go, at least.
No more would she need to worry about slumming in Megaton, or anywhere else which could be termed more civilized-than-usual in the rough-and-rumble wasteland. Megaton, where no jobs were available, all the best houses were already taken, and one could get locked into the new jail just for stealing a syringeful of meds.
With the raiders she'd at least have a life, and a future, and maybe even some respect. All of this could be hers, she knew, if she chose to walk out that door, and don the armor set Rick was giving her. She'd already be dead (or nearly so) if they weren't offering her these very things.
She took a moment to decide, before walking out of Springvale Elementary.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Springvale Elementary Front Foyer
No schoolbell tolls here
Slick Rick
Changing clothes -- (argh, still can't get animation mod to work)
Miss Vicious Delicious
Nice job of continuing to reference what Sunnyvale's past may have been.
Slick's request for Miss Vicious to 'put on this armor and go wait outside for an hour, then come back in' . . . . Kinda smells like a trap to me. Hope I'm wrong.
Slick's request for Miss Vicious to 'put on this armor and go wait outside for an hour, then come back in' . . . . Kinda smells like a trap to me. Hope I'm wrong.
Vicious D is back!
VD is back in her old gang armor.
Slick seems pretty hard to trust. Sounds to me like some weird shit is about to go down.
VD is back in her old gang armor.
Slick seems pretty hard to trust. Sounds to me like some weird shit is about to go down.
QUOTE
"Well look," Slick Rick continued, with a facial expression which any former used Chryslus dealer would try as he worked up to his pitch.
I wouldn't trust Slick Rick either.
From all the raider variants of armor, the badlands one is appearance-wise the best choice, I think.Springvale School now definitely serves a completely other purpose than before the Great War.
Taneesha may have found her "family" again but she'd better be careful around these "relatives".
Acadian: Yes, well... I hope she isn't about to walk into a trap. The whole 'put on the armor, "go outside and wait an hour" bit is actually due to a mod idea I used way back in Janet's game. Basically, I added a script to some raider armor which makes her compatible with the Raider Faction. 
Put it on, and they're her friends. Take it off, and now they're not. The way to get it to work is to put the armor on in another cell or worldspace, and then wait an hour.
Still though, maybe the word 'trap' can be used in a different context here.
SubRosa: Yes, some weird s--- is about to go down. Think of Slick Rick is really a pawn in this game, but he may still have some relevance in greater terms later on. We'll see. The whole thing about this story is that portions of it are malleable. Portions of this story depend on who is able to survive, and this includes some NPCs.
There have been a few characters in your own story with Stormcrow who I've also not been able to trust fully, although some of them (like that lawyer) turned out to be inconsequential, or not bad guys at all.
Lopov: Yes, you're right about Taneesha needing to be careful around her relatives! Even I don't know all that could go wrong in the future.
Love you all.
Put it on, and they're her friends. Take it off, and now they're not. The way to get it to work is to put the armor on in another cell or worldspace, and then wait an hour. Still though, maybe the word 'trap' can be used in a different context here.
SubRosa: Yes, some weird s--- is about to go down. Think of Slick Rick is really a pawn in this game, but he may still have some relevance in greater terms later on. We'll see. The whole thing about this story is that portions of it are malleable. Portions of this story depend on who is able to survive, and this includes some NPCs.
There have been a few characters in your own story with Stormcrow who I've also not been able to trust fully, although some of them (like that lawyer) turned out to be inconsequential, or not bad guys at all.
Lopov: Yes, you're right about Taneesha needing to be careful around her relatives! Even I don't know all that could go wrong in the future.
Love you all.
..,
Slick was still standing just inside the school's doors as Vicious reentered its foyer. "Que pasa?" asked he with his usual half-smirk, half something-else.
"Well as you can see," she said a bit sullenly, "here I am."
"Damn straight Vicious, hoo! Look at you!"
"So is that it?" she challenged. "Is that all? So I am back with the raiders now?"
"Yep," said Slick with a loud sniff. "We all cool wi'chu now. So now you be cool. Have a walk around the school, yuh? And stick around for a bit, a'ight? I may... I mean, we may have some work with you comin' up real soon. Because we all know you's all that and a bag of Potato Crisps, right?"
"Well thank you," said Vicious uneasily. "I guess. Whatever that means. Thank you for accepting me back."
"Now ... here," Slick said. He reached behind himself and grabbed something nearby. "I know you like shotguns. Have this one on me. And some shells."
Vicious's eyes nearly popped when she saw the piece being given to her now. Freshly machined and oiled, this was no mutt of a firearm (as was so commonly found out here in the wasteland). No, this was a gun which had received some care. She immediately jammed a round of shells into its casing, and aimed for a wall. She then fired the gun into one of the nearby corpses, which had been hung there for whatever reason. ...*BKKSH!*...
The gun worked. Its recoil was solid, causing her to almost lose her balance. Its action and aim were both true. Which meant she was back. This was real. She was really being re-inducted into the Potomac area raiders.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there!" Slick cautioned, backing up as though he'd never fired a gun himself. "At least wait 'til you outside, eh?"
"Uh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that."
Vicious noticed her ears were ringing.
One facet, one common, unspoken rule of raider society, was this. If an object was placed in or on a 'common area' for more than X number of seconds or minutes, this object (whether it was a piece of clothing, a weapon, or even a chem) was now up for grabs. Especially if the object was placed there, and then the original owner of that object passed out, or wandered off into another room.
Unlike Megaton, where picking up a mere fork off the counter in Moriarty's could potentially set off a fight, or apparently cause somebody to get arrested, grabbing anything from an open shelf or a counter in a raider hideout was allowed. Some raiders might store their stuff in a locked container perhaps. Otherwise, it could be anyone's. Because of this unspoken rule, Miss Vicious began a small hunt for anything located in or on one of these common areas (lockers, shelves, desks...), just after Slick Rick told the others she'd be rejoining their family.
Despite her unease, nobody attacked her. Nobody ganged up on her. And so what if they did? She now had two well-kept weapons to defend herself with. She now possessed a set of armor which was also well-crafted. So let them come at her now, was her current train of thought. She was back, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Since she had some free time before learning what her first mission would be, she spent her first hour back in Springvale wandering its rooms and halls. Greeting the various raiders who currently lived here, all the while keeping an eye open for any items lying in the open. Anything she could choose, and maybe use. By the end of her walk around the school's first floor, she had scored some morphine, a Prewar bill, a Stimpak, and a couple of beers.
"Uh. Hello," Vicious spoke to the first man she found, who was pacing around the darkened gloom of a former classroom.
"I'm not in the mood for you, *arsehole*," was his answer.
Miss Vicious noticed he spoke with an accent. Like most Potomac raiders, he was probably not from the area.
The bulk of those dwelling in the wasteland's outlying locations, such as Springvale, Fairfax Ruins, and Super Duper Mart, had mostly come down from Philadelphia, New York City, or somewhere in New Jersey. Like the man who just called her a dirty word, they spoke with 'Joisey' accents. Locals who chose the raider life, such as Dogmaster, Q Tip, and Slick Rick, were actually uncommon. Why and when did those from Jersey migrate? Years ago? Decades ago? How had the locals managed to keep their positions at the top? These topics were unclear to Vicious. Mostly because she had been raised in a religious setting, and had not fallen in with the Capitol Wasteland Potomac raiders until a couple years ago.
"Hey. You," said another dude, this one with spiked hair. Again, he spoke with that same Jersey accent. "Yeah. You. I don't like the look you're givin' me. Keep it up, and I'll break your *ferking* skull open!"
"Up yours," was Vicious's answer to him.
Like the dude with spiked hair, most were rude to Vicious as she moved from room to room, perhaps because they were jealous.
"You best point those peepers somewhere else," said yet another. "Before I TEAR them outta your skull!"
"Says who? Your momma? I heard your momma is so old, she got her bible autographed by the Man, himself."
"Eat me, sister!"
"Yeah, you wish I would."
They all knew who she was by now, and most were jealous about this. At least, this is what she told herself. As she wandered around, she sure did put up a brave face. But inside, Vicious felt she was crumbling.
"Oh hey. Check this out," said yet another to Vicious as she wandered up a dark hallway. Unlike the others so far, he did not just insult her on sight. "You know those rookie idiots who tried to head up north? They got their *arses* handed to them by some *ferking* monsters!"
"Oh yeah? Well--" Miss Vicious stopped. She had a comeback comment planned and ready for him, just in case he had nothing nice to say. She was a little surprised when she did not get to use it. "That's too bad for them, I guess," she finished lamely.
After another few minutes of wandering, looking for a place she could shoot her latest score (and maybe just be on her own for awhile) Vicious did find a raider female; the first gal she met in this dump.
"Hey you. What's up?" the gal asked. "You look all lost, and stuff-like." Another Jersey-ite. She spoke with a high-pitched voice which apparently hadn't yet been ravaged by years of cigs or chem-use. She was drinking a beer, and had a cutesy haircut done in the 'Fairytale' style, a popular look for raider females.
"Well as you may know already, my name's Tan-- I mean Vicious," she answered. "Back with y'all raiders, I guess. Are you nice? Sick of being put down and all. Can I have one of those beers?"
"Hey, well don't look so down, and yes you can. I'm Bratty. Been here for a few days now. The others in here are all in some big commonotion about who you is, and whatcha been done in the past, or something," Bratty said, making a gesture and rolling her eyes. "I don't know what they all is rambling all about, and better yet, nor I don't care!"
"Well that's good," said Miss Vicious. She grabbed one of several beers from a nearby table, and had a seat. "So, What's a girl gotta do around here to find somebody nice to hang with?"
And from that point, Bratty and Vicious bonded. This was good, because by now, all Vicious wanted and needed was a friend. The pair decided to leave the school altogether, and headed toward an abandoned bus just up the street. There they drank a couple of beers, talked about their lives, and shared the morphine Vicious had found earlier.
"Hey, cansh I do ..." Bratty later slurred, the combination of opiates and alcohol having full effect. "I mean like, can I do ... your hair?"
"Whaaat? You know how to work a hot-comb?" Vicious asked, genuinely surprised.
Bratty did know. Bratty pulled a razor, some scissors, some soap, some water, some cosmetologist's oil, and a metal comb from her pack. The comb was set upon a pile of burning rubbish within the abandoned bus (causing a large, messy cloud of smoke which the girls had to vent with outside air). Bratty then went to work on Vicious's new look. The job took an unknown amount of time, probably longer than it should have, due to their intoxication. In her haze, Vicious was a little concerned maybe she'd wake up tomorrow looking like a centaur-head, or something. But other than a couple incidental burn-marks from the comb, she had little to worry about. Her new friend was trained in these matters.
Vicious smiled genuinely after seeing herself in one of the bus's mirrors. She looked good. More important, she looked different. Gone was her former coif, which she had kept since roaming astray from the Jehovah's Witnesses a couple years before. Though she wasn't looking like an outright raider, with spiked hair or a totally shaved head perhaps, she found herself pleased.
From that point on, the future seemed wild and bright, and full of whatever was to come in the Capitol Wasteland.
------------------------
Quest Completed
Vicious got a new gun
BLAM! goes the Blamhammer
Bratty
Vicious and Bratty
Intoxicated
Can I do your hair?
New look for Miss Vicious
Chapter 16 -- Reinstated with the Raiders
Slick was still standing just inside the school's doors as Vicious reentered its foyer. "Que pasa?" asked he with his usual half-smirk, half something-else.
"Well as you can see," she said a bit sullenly, "here I am."
"Damn straight Vicious, hoo! Look at you!"
"So is that it?" she challenged. "Is that all? So I am back with the raiders now?"
"Yep," said Slick with a loud sniff. "We all cool wi'chu now. So now you be cool. Have a walk around the school, yuh? And stick around for a bit, a'ight? I may... I mean, we may have some work with you comin' up real soon. Because we all know you's all that and a bag of Potato Crisps, right?"
"Well thank you," said Vicious uneasily. "I guess. Whatever that means. Thank you for accepting me back."
"Now ... here," Slick said. He reached behind himself and grabbed something nearby. "I know you like shotguns. Have this one on me. And some shells."
Vicious's eyes nearly popped when she saw the piece being given to her now. Freshly machined and oiled, this was no mutt of a firearm (as was so commonly found out here in the wasteland). No, this was a gun which had received some care. She immediately jammed a round of shells into its casing, and aimed for a wall. She then fired the gun into one of the nearby corpses, which had been hung there for whatever reason. ...*BKKSH!*...
The gun worked. Its recoil was solid, causing her to almost lose her balance. Its action and aim were both true. Which meant she was back. This was real. She was really being re-inducted into the Potomac area raiders.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there!" Slick cautioned, backing up as though he'd never fired a gun himself. "At least wait 'til you outside, eh?"
"Uh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that."
Vicious noticed her ears were ringing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One facet, one common, unspoken rule of raider society, was this. If an object was placed in or on a 'common area' for more than X number of seconds or minutes, this object (whether it was a piece of clothing, a weapon, or even a chem) was now up for grabs. Especially if the object was placed there, and then the original owner of that object passed out, or wandered off into another room.
Unlike Megaton, where picking up a mere fork off the counter in Moriarty's could potentially set off a fight, or apparently cause somebody to get arrested, grabbing anything from an open shelf or a counter in a raider hideout was allowed. Some raiders might store their stuff in a locked container perhaps. Otherwise, it could be anyone's. Because of this unspoken rule, Miss Vicious began a small hunt for anything located in or on one of these common areas (lockers, shelves, desks...), just after Slick Rick told the others she'd be rejoining their family.
Despite her unease, nobody attacked her. Nobody ganged up on her. And so what if they did? She now had two well-kept weapons to defend herself with. She now possessed a set of armor which was also well-crafted. So let them come at her now, was her current train of thought. She was back, and there was nothing they could do about it.
Since she had some free time before learning what her first mission would be, she spent her first hour back in Springvale wandering its rooms and halls. Greeting the various raiders who currently lived here, all the while keeping an eye open for any items lying in the open. Anything she could choose, and maybe use. By the end of her walk around the school's first floor, she had scored some morphine, a Prewar bill, a Stimpak, and a couple of beers.
"Uh. Hello," Vicious spoke to the first man she found, who was pacing around the darkened gloom of a former classroom.
"I'm not in the mood for you, *arsehole*," was his answer.
Miss Vicious noticed he spoke with an accent. Like most Potomac raiders, he was probably not from the area.
The bulk of those dwelling in the wasteland's outlying locations, such as Springvale, Fairfax Ruins, and Super Duper Mart, had mostly come down from Philadelphia, New York City, or somewhere in New Jersey. Like the man who just called her a dirty word, they spoke with 'Joisey' accents. Locals who chose the raider life, such as Dogmaster, Q Tip, and Slick Rick, were actually uncommon. Why and when did those from Jersey migrate? Years ago? Decades ago? How had the locals managed to keep their positions at the top? These topics were unclear to Vicious. Mostly because she had been raised in a religious setting, and had not fallen in with the Capitol Wasteland Potomac raiders until a couple years ago.
"Hey. You," said another dude, this one with spiked hair. Again, he spoke with that same Jersey accent. "Yeah. You. I don't like the look you're givin' me. Keep it up, and I'll break your *ferking* skull open!"
"Up yours," was Vicious's answer to him.
Like the dude with spiked hair, most were rude to Vicious as she moved from room to room, perhaps because they were jealous.
"You best point those peepers somewhere else," said yet another. "Before I TEAR them outta your skull!"
"Says who? Your momma? I heard your momma is so old, she got her bible autographed by the Man, himself."
"Eat me, sister!"
"Yeah, you wish I would."
They all knew who she was by now, and most were jealous about this. At least, this is what she told herself. As she wandered around, she sure did put up a brave face. But inside, Vicious felt she was crumbling.
"Oh hey. Check this out," said yet another to Vicious as she wandered up a dark hallway. Unlike the others so far, he did not just insult her on sight. "You know those rookie idiots who tried to head up north? They got their *arses* handed to them by some *ferking* monsters!"
"Oh yeah? Well--" Miss Vicious stopped. She had a comeback comment planned and ready for him, just in case he had nothing nice to say. She was a little surprised when she did not get to use it. "That's too bad for them, I guess," she finished lamely.
After another few minutes of wandering, looking for a place she could shoot her latest score (and maybe just be on her own for awhile) Vicious did find a raider female; the first gal she met in this dump.
"Hey you. What's up?" the gal asked. "You look all lost, and stuff-like." Another Jersey-ite. She spoke with a high-pitched voice which apparently hadn't yet been ravaged by years of cigs or chem-use. She was drinking a beer, and had a cutesy haircut done in the 'Fairytale' style, a popular look for raider females.
"Well as you may know already, my name's Tan-- I mean Vicious," she answered. "Back with y'all raiders, I guess. Are you nice? Sick of being put down and all. Can I have one of those beers?"
"Hey, well don't look so down, and yes you can. I'm Bratty. Been here for a few days now. The others in here are all in some big commonotion about who you is, and whatcha been done in the past, or something," Bratty said, making a gesture and rolling her eyes. "I don't know what they all is rambling all about, and better yet, nor I don't care!"
"Well that's good," said Miss Vicious. She grabbed one of several beers from a nearby table, and had a seat. "So, What's a girl gotta do around here to find somebody nice to hang with?"
And from that point, Bratty and Vicious bonded. This was good, because by now, all Vicious wanted and needed was a friend. The pair decided to leave the school altogether, and headed toward an abandoned bus just up the street. There they drank a couple of beers, talked about their lives, and shared the morphine Vicious had found earlier.
"Hey, cansh I do ..." Bratty later slurred, the combination of opiates and alcohol having full effect. "I mean like, can I do ... your hair?"
"Whaaat? You know how to work a hot-comb?" Vicious asked, genuinely surprised.
Bratty did know. Bratty pulled a razor, some scissors, some soap, some water, some cosmetologist's oil, and a metal comb from her pack. The comb was set upon a pile of burning rubbish within the abandoned bus (causing a large, messy cloud of smoke which the girls had to vent with outside air). Bratty then went to work on Vicious's new look. The job took an unknown amount of time, probably longer than it should have, due to their intoxication. In her haze, Vicious was a little concerned maybe she'd wake up tomorrow looking like a centaur-head, or something. But other than a couple incidental burn-marks from the comb, she had little to worry about. Her new friend was trained in these matters.
Vicious smiled genuinely after seeing herself in one of the bus's mirrors. She looked good. More important, she looked different. Gone was her former coif, which she had kept since roaming astray from the Jehovah's Witnesses a couple years before. Though she wasn't looking like an outright raider, with spiked hair or a totally shaved head perhaps, she found herself pleased.
From that point on, the future seemed wild and bright, and full of whatever was to come in the Capitol Wasteland.
------------------------
Quest Completed
Vicious got a new gun
BLAM! goes the Blamhammer
Bratty
Vicious and Bratty
Intoxicated
Can I do your hair?
New look for Miss Vicious
QUOTE
One facet, one common, unspoken rule of raider society, was this. If an object was placed in or on a 'common area' for more than X number of seconds or minutes, this object (whether it was a piece of clothing, a weapon, or even a chem) was now up for grabs. Especially if the object was placed there, and then the original owner of that object passed out, or wandered off into another room.
Taneesha better be careful not to put her shotgun down.
I like her attitude among raiders - one must be rude with them, I guess, else they'd immediately sense some weakness.
Nice that Taneesha has a friend now!
Although unladylike, Taneesha's looking good!
New gun, new doo and new friend! Miss VD's making gains there at that Raider hideout.
I still don't trust Slick. Methinks he has a card up his sleeve, and is planning on using Miss VD to do some dirty work for him. Maybe be the fall guy for something he does.
I was just talking to one of my neighbors that the great thing about an apocalypse are the hair styles. Everyone gets a colored mohawk or spikes or something else equally outrageous. No one ever runs out of hair product when the world ends, and everyone is a hairdresser.
I was just talking to one of my neighbors that the great thing about an apocalypse are the hair styles. Everyone gets a colored mohawk or spikes or something else equally outrageous. No one ever runs out of hair product when the world ends, and everyone is a hairdresser.
Yes Lopov, I'd imagine since she's already been around all those jerks in the past, she is able to handle their rude comments.
I did some gaming with Vicious here and there these past weeks, just walking her around as a raider. I gotta admit, there is something nice about being able to go to Super Duper Mart and also that bridge which overlooks Springvale, which is full of raiders, and not get attacked like Cho or one of our others would. It's like Vicious now has a range of areas she can safely walk around, and into.
I sometimes tense up as she approaches one of these areas, expecting a hail of gunfire or whatever.
Personally I like the 'new friend' part most of all. I had a lot of fun making Bratty and some of her in-game dialog and such. In fact I've been quiet these last few weeks as I've been setting up a bunch of stuff in Vicious's world.
Hee hee, I actually take this as a compliment! :blush: Slick Rick is a rather compelling character, I think. Although it depends how things go in the future.
You are also right, Rosa. The world ends, the apocalypse has come, but this doesn't mean we can't still make all those cool hairstyles from the past! Just wait 'til you see some of Taneesha's future hairdos.
I did some gaming with Vicious here and there these past weeks, just walking her around as a raider. I gotta admit, there is something nice about being able to go to Super Duper Mart and also that bridge which overlooks Springvale, which is full of raiders, and not get attacked like Cho or one of our others would. It's like Vicious now has a range of areas she can safely walk around, and into.
I sometimes tense up as she approaches one of these areas, expecting a hail of gunfire or whatever. QUOTE
New gun, new doo and new friend!
Personally I like the 'new friend' part most of all.
I had a lot of fun making Bratty and some of her in-game dialog and such. In fact I've been quiet these last few weeks as I've been setting up a bunch of stuff in Vicious's world. QUOTE
I still don't trust Slick.
Hee hee, I actually take this as a compliment! :blush: Slick Rick is a rather compelling character, I think. Although it depends how things go in the future.
You are also right, Rosa. The world ends, the apocalypse has come, but this doesn't mean we can't still make all those cool hairstyles from the past!
Just wait 'til you see some of Taneesha's future hairdos.
Chapter 17 -- The Assignment
Thursday morning, August 29, 2277
Minimum Temperature: 61
Maximum Temperature: 91
"Hey, say, what's doin' Vicious? You looking good today, and we gots something for ya, too. So, you ready for your first ... uh ... assignment?"
Outside of Springvale, temperatures were soaring; the summer sun continued to beat down. When it was cloudy, and seemed as if it would cool off, instead things got even worse, as Maryland's dreadful humidity then began to climb. Only good thing about it was the 17 year cycle of radcicadas had not occurred during 2277.
Unlike Megaton with its air-conditioned interior, Springvale Elementary's power generators had never been fully rebuilt. Because of this, everybody inside of the school was perspiring a bit, and this included Miss Vicious.
"Yeah, Slick. I am," she said, wiping her brow, not knowing what the heck to expect. "Whatcha got?"
By now, she'd been living amongst the raiders for days. Eating their food, sleeping on their natty cots and bedrolls. Though nobody would ever accuse her of being a freeloader, it was also clear she'd be expected to perform whatever tasks they had. Because she was good at what she did. That was the word everyone was saying. She had survived the Wasteland all by herself, after being cast into the boonies.
She had kicked all those asses a few weeks ago out at Fairfax Ruins! .. Dogmaster would eventually want to exploit her talent for survival. Somehow.
"Damn RIGHT!" said Slick Rick. "That's what we want to HEAR!" He did some weird twisting motion with his torso as he said this, as though he were swinging a pool cue in the air.
"So seriously, Slick. What is this? Please don't send me all the way up into another *ferking* trap."
"Oh no, this is no trap, sister," Rick lit a cigarette. "Dogmaster wants you to head up to Germantown, where those rookie idiots was sent. They got a police department up there, yuhh? Place called Germantown HQ, a'right?"
"Okay, yep. I have been hearing about these rookie idiots which went up north. Kinda hard not to, since everyone's been talking about it. You think they went to that police station?"
"A bunch of us was already livin' up there and stuff," Rick explained. "But then, a week ago, like *poof* ... all the sudden we uh... lost contact. And that ain't right. Place is all electrified," he said, making a motion now like he was having a seizure. "It's got, you know. Uh. Power. Place already had its own radio, it bein' a po-lice station and all. So we gots contact day-to-day with our brothers and sisters up there."
"Okay, and?"
"And we's ready to take over the whole region up there, spread our selves to Minefield, right?"
"But then..."
"*Poof*. Nothing. No word from anybody," Rick said, looking truly dismayed.
"And you want me to go up there. See what's up?" Vicious rolled her eyes as she said this, but inside she felt sort of delighted. Dogmaster wanted her to forge this mission.
"You got it. We want you to head up there, see what's up," the raider agent smiled. A genuine smile, it seemed. No Chryslus dealer nonsense. "And you can take any of these mongrels with you," he added, gesturing with his hands. "Any of these lowlife scumbags you want to take with you, you just say the word. And if they ... uh... refuse..."
His words trailed off. Either because he didn't want to say what would happen if they refused, or couldn't say it.
But Vicious found she had no problem trying to convince a couple others to join her. She'd already made a friend who seemed eager to follow into whatever trouble lay ahead. Pretty soon she had a second person join her. A man, who refused to tell her his name, and also seemed as if he didn't quite fit in with raider society a hundred percent.
Other than that, everyone in Springvale declined. But maybe this was a good thing. A gang of three, it would be.
------------------
The Assignment
Quest update
Thursday morning, August 29, 2277
Minimum Temperature: 61
Maximum Temperature: 91
"Hey, say, what's doin' Vicious? You looking good today, and we gots something for ya, too. So, you ready for your first ... uh ... assignment?"
Outside of Springvale, temperatures were soaring; the summer sun continued to beat down. When it was cloudy, and seemed as if it would cool off, instead things got even worse, as Maryland's dreadful humidity then began to climb. Only good thing about it was the 17 year cycle of radcicadas had not occurred during 2277.
Unlike Megaton with its air-conditioned interior, Springvale Elementary's power generators had never been fully rebuilt. Because of this, everybody inside of the school was perspiring a bit, and this included Miss Vicious.
"Yeah, Slick. I am," she said, wiping her brow, not knowing what the heck to expect. "Whatcha got?"
By now, she'd been living amongst the raiders for days. Eating their food, sleeping on their natty cots and bedrolls. Though nobody would ever accuse her of being a freeloader, it was also clear she'd be expected to perform whatever tasks they had. Because she was good at what she did. That was the word everyone was saying. She had survived the Wasteland all by herself, after being cast into the boonies.
She had kicked all those asses a few weeks ago out at Fairfax Ruins! .. Dogmaster would eventually want to exploit her talent for survival. Somehow.
"Damn RIGHT!" said Slick Rick. "That's what we want to HEAR!" He did some weird twisting motion with his torso as he said this, as though he were swinging a pool cue in the air.
"So seriously, Slick. What is this? Please don't send me all the way up into another *ferking* trap."
"Oh no, this is no trap, sister," Rick lit a cigarette. "Dogmaster wants you to head up to Germantown, where those rookie idiots was sent. They got a police department up there, yuhh? Place called Germantown HQ, a'right?"
"Okay, yep. I have been hearing about these rookie idiots which went up north. Kinda hard not to, since everyone's been talking about it. You think they went to that police station?"
"A bunch of us was already livin' up there and stuff," Rick explained. "But then, a week ago, like *poof* ... all the sudden we uh... lost contact. And that ain't right. Place is all electrified," he said, making a motion now like he was having a seizure. "It's got, you know. Uh. Power. Place already had its own radio, it bein' a po-lice station and all. So we gots contact day-to-day with our brothers and sisters up there."
"Okay, and?"
"And we's ready to take over the whole region up there, spread our selves to Minefield, right?"
"But then..."
"*Poof*. Nothing. No word from anybody," Rick said, looking truly dismayed.
"And you want me to go up there. See what's up?" Vicious rolled her eyes as she said this, but inside she felt sort of delighted. Dogmaster wanted her to forge this mission.
"You got it. We want you to head up there, see what's up," the raider agent smiled. A genuine smile, it seemed. No Chryslus dealer nonsense. "And you can take any of these mongrels with you," he added, gesturing with his hands. "Any of these lowlife scumbags you want to take with you, you just say the word. And if they ... uh... refuse..."
His words trailed off. Either because he didn't want to say what would happen if they refused, or couldn't say it.
But Vicious found she had no problem trying to convince a couple others to join her. She'd already made a friend who seemed eager to follow into whatever trouble lay ahead. Pretty soon she had a second person join her. A man, who refused to tell her his name, and also seemed as if he didn't quite fit in with raider society a hundred percent.
Other than that, everyone in Springvale declined. But maybe this was a good thing. A gang of three, it would be.
------------------
The Assignment
Quest update
Taneesha's going to the police station! Quite an irony that a raider is asked to investigate the building that used to represent the law so many years ago.
I wonder what happened to those raiders.
I wonder what happened to those raiders.
Uh oh, Miss VD is off to Germantown. I bet what happened to those raiders was big and yellow...
Wow, do they have radcicadas?
Her reaction to Slick Rick's inquiry about taking a mission reminds me of a line by one of the Space Marines in the movie 'Aliens': "Is this gonna be a real stand up fight, or just another ferking bug hunt?"
Vicious is in command of an Away Team!
Her reaction to Slick Rick's inquiry about taking a mission reminds me of a line by one of the Space Marines in the movie 'Aliens': "Is this gonna be a real stand up fight, or just another ferking bug hunt?"
Vicious is in command of an Away Team!
Chorrol's quite busy today. The new Stormcrow is up, Lopov posted some pictures of his ESO toon, and (holy crepe) mirocu has a fanfic? I love when the forums get busy like this. Let's see if I can add my own bombshell to the carnage today.
Taneesha's going to the police station! Quite an irony that a raider is asked to investigate the building that used to represent the law so many years ago.
Ha yes, good point. The place in which a bunch of crimedoers from the 21st century would have been locked up is now a place where crimedoers and monsters reign.
Uh oh, Miss VD is off to Germantown. I bet what happened to those raiders was big and yellow...
You know what happens due to the Big Town quest, although there will be some twists in Vicious's story, as we'll see.
Wow, do they have radcicadas?
Hee hee that is imagination.
Her reaction to Slick Rick's inquiry about taking a mission reminds me of a line by one of the Space Marines in the movie 'Aliens': "Is this gonna be a real stand up fight, or just another ferking bug hunt?"
Oh gosh, I love Aliens, and Aliens 2 even more. One of my fave sci-fi movies, if not my favorite.
"This little girl has survived for weeks despite aliens running around...." Ripley said. (sic)
"Well why don't we put her in charge?"
Also... "It's game over, man. Game over!"
The new Stormcrow is up, Lopov posted some pictures of his ESO toon, and (holy crepe) mirocu has a fanfic? I love when the forums get busy like this. Let's see if I can add my own bombshell to the carnage today. QUOTE(Lopov @ May 9 2021, 04:31 PM)
Taneesha's going to the police station! Quite an irony that a raider is asked to investigate the building that used to represent the law so many years ago.
Ha yes, good point. The place in which a bunch of crimedoers from the 21st century would have been locked up is now a place where crimedoers and monsters reign.
QUOTE(SubRosa @ May 9 2021, 04:48 PM)
Uh oh, Miss VD is off to Germantown. I bet what happened to those raiders was big and yellow...
You know what happens due to the Big Town quest, although there will be some twists in Vicious's story, as we'll see.
QUOTE(Acadian @ May 9 2021, 08:07 PM)
Wow, do they have radcicadas?
Hee hee that is imagination.
QUOTE
Her reaction to Slick Rick's inquiry about taking a mission reminds me of a line by one of the Space Marines in the movie 'Aliens': "Is this gonna be a real stand up fight, or just another ferking bug hunt?"
Oh gosh, I love Aliens, and Aliens 2 even more. One of my fave sci-fi movies, if not my favorite.
"This little girl has survived for weeks despite aliens running around...." Ripley said. (sic)
"Well why don't we put her in charge?"
Also... "It's game over, man. Game over!"
Chapter 18 -- The Road Trip, Part 1
Thursday, August 30, 2277
Minimum Temperature: 68.0
Maximum Temperature: 91.9
"Oh I'm just gonna tear you up..."
"Get 'im!"
Bratty, Vicious, and the man who was traveling along with Bratty and Vicous readied their current weapons. - Bratty took aim and fired into the grass with her assault rifle. - Vicious lunged forward and ran with her shot gun - and the man who refused to tell them his name strutted forth with a crappy little combat knife.
"Special delivery!" shouted Bratty, Vicious's new friend from Jersey. "It's go time!" Her cheap machine gun sounded like pieces of plywood caught in a hurricane.
... Bratty was screaming.
"No, I got this one." Miss Vicious had a calm smile in her voice as she spoke. "Y'all watch this, and learn." Not getting too excited like the others. Eventually, a molerat came crashing out of the brush. All this fuss and muss over a large, mutated, simple-minded nuisance creature. Relatively harmless, especially amongst all the firepower it faced.
*Bkksh!* Vicious blew its head off with her shotgun, with just one shot. "That's gettin' it done!" she said.
"Hell yeah!" Bratty exclaimed, skipping in her boots. "That's what we do 'round here! Take care of business! Springvale School raiders rock!"
The man with no name? He stayed silent as the two gals gloated.
"Yes, we do uh... rock, don't we?" Miss Vicious reloaded the gun Rick had given her with a new shell. "I think we'll be seein' more of this here Blamhammer, quite a lot more."
"That's a nice piece you got," admitted Bratty, her face going from ecstatic to serious, almost in reverence. Like she really meant what she was saying. "You know, like I got the range, I got the hail of rounds, but you got the power, for close-up actions, right? Together we make a great team."
"Well I prefer shotguns, stated Vicious seriously. "That was one of the weapons we had when I was growin' up. In our temple. A shotgun. I used to sit guard sometimes since I was eight years old."
The three began walking again, headed north, when Vicious abruptly turned to the man. "Is that all you got for a weapon?" her voice exasperated. "Just that lousy knife?"
The man shrugged. Said nothing.
"We'll find you something better," Vicious promised. "Got to. And soon. 'specially out here."
"Say, you ain't that guy they call Rattler, are ya?" the girl from Jersey teased their male companion. "Rattler? He goes around killin' with just a knife, they say. And so does you. You know. I bet even if you ain't that Rattler guy, you sure is creepy as hell."
"Shut the *firk* up, *birch*, okay?" He sheathed his knife, after wiping it on some grass.
"Oh now you speak," she pouted mockingly. "Quiet riot stays on his diet, until the Missus from Jersey comes along. Oh booo hoo. I wike to wuse my wittle knife to fight with! Who fights a molerat with a knife, anyway?" Hands on hips. "You know, maybe you is that Rattler guy! Maybe you is, right? Sure would make a lot of sense. Like, why youse all gettin' up close and personal with your wittle wife, eh? Come on, speak up, dumpster cup."
"That's why they call you Bratty?" he returned. "Because you won't shut up, and sure are one hell of a brat."
"Will you guys?" Vicious glared. "We can't be having none of that if we're going to survive out here, okay?" She lit a cigarette, subconsciously rewarding herself just then. "This is the Capitol Wasteland. If we is to make like we'll surivive, we's gonna have to cooperate. Like we's a part of Talon Company or the Enclave. Y'all got it?"
The three began walking again, in silence at first. Vicious passed her cigarette to Bratty, who noted silently she was smoking more than a mere cigarette. She puffed, held the smoke in a few seconds, and exhaled. Bratty did not pass their special cigarette to the man.
"Who is this guy you call Rattler, anyway?" asked Vicious.
"Oh, you ain't heard yet? He's some sort of maniac. A carnival! He like... eats people and stuff!"
"You mean cannibal..."
"Huh?"
"You said carnival," Vicious corrected. "Not cannibal. A cannibal is someone who eats people."
"Whatever! My point is this guy Rattler, like there's all these rumors about him. Like, he murdered, then ate some *birch* over at Dukov's place! He's got a lair full of dead bodies! He even tried to kill Three Dog!"
"Oh my guhd, how terrible. What kind of maniac...."
By now it was getting into early afternoon, and they were approaching the north end of the irradiated Potomac. Vicious took a Rad-X (protecting her from the rivers's extreme radiation) before wading into the water. "That feels good." After hours of oven-like heat, she did not care if she took on a few extra rads. After a moment, Bratty joined her.
"There's also this guy called .. um.... Card Killer!" Bratty continued. They began to walk again, dripping yellowish water from their skin. "And he's like, this guy who goes around killing women only." Her voice became sad now. "Only females. And wherever he kills, he leaves a special card behind. Like, a card from a playing card deck. Dude's been linked to a bunch of murders by now."
"What the hell's the world coming to?" Vicious asked, as if the wasteland was a happier place a week ago.
Miss Vicious Delicious carefully avoided getting anywhere near Big Town, as the posse of three approached from the south. Pretty soon they found an outdoor campsite, where others of their kind had already been living for awhile. Safety in numbers, at least for some hours. Here they stayed, partied, and slept for the night.
--------------------------
Vicious 'n' Bratty
Ragdoll'd Wastelander*
Blam! goes the Blamhammer
One less Molerat
Summer night campfire
* This is what I was talking about. Wastelanders keep showing up as random NPCs in her game, and always near raider hangouts! Maybe some dev at Bethesda was playing around with being a raider before the game was released, and put these Wastelanders into the game specifically for those who play as raiders.
Thursday, August 30, 2277
Minimum Temperature: 68.0
Maximum Temperature: 91.9
"Oh I'm just gonna tear you up..."
"Get 'im!"
Bratty, Vicious, and the man who was traveling along with Bratty and Vicous readied their current weapons. - Bratty took aim and fired into the grass with her assault rifle. - Vicious lunged forward and ran with her shot gun - and the man who refused to tell them his name strutted forth with a crappy little combat knife.
"Special delivery!" shouted Bratty, Vicious's new friend from Jersey. "It's go time!" Her cheap machine gun sounded like pieces of plywood caught in a hurricane.
... Bratty was screaming.
"No, I got this one." Miss Vicious had a calm smile in her voice as she spoke. "Y'all watch this, and learn." Not getting too excited like the others. Eventually, a molerat came crashing out of the brush. All this fuss and muss over a large, mutated, simple-minded nuisance creature. Relatively harmless, especially amongst all the firepower it faced.
*Bkksh!* Vicious blew its head off with her shotgun, with just one shot. "That's gettin' it done!" she said.
"Hell yeah!" Bratty exclaimed, skipping in her boots. "That's what we do 'round here! Take care of business! Springvale School raiders rock!"
The man with no name? He stayed silent as the two gals gloated.
"Yes, we do uh... rock, don't we?" Miss Vicious reloaded the gun Rick had given her with a new shell. "I think we'll be seein' more of this here Blamhammer, quite a lot more."
"That's a nice piece you got," admitted Bratty, her face going from ecstatic to serious, almost in reverence. Like she really meant what she was saying. "You know, like I got the range, I got the hail of rounds, but you got the power, for close-up actions, right? Together we make a great team."
"Well I prefer shotguns, stated Vicious seriously. "That was one of the weapons we had when I was growin' up. In our temple. A shotgun. I used to sit guard sometimes since I was eight years old."
The three began walking again, headed north, when Vicious abruptly turned to the man. "Is that all you got for a weapon?" her voice exasperated. "Just that lousy knife?"
The man shrugged. Said nothing.
"We'll find you something better," Vicious promised. "Got to. And soon. 'specially out here."
"Say, you ain't that guy they call Rattler, are ya?" the girl from Jersey teased their male companion. "Rattler? He goes around killin' with just a knife, they say. And so does you. You know. I bet even if you ain't that Rattler guy, you sure is creepy as hell."
"Shut the *firk* up, *birch*, okay?" He sheathed his knife, after wiping it on some grass.
"Oh now you speak," she pouted mockingly. "Quiet riot stays on his diet, until the Missus from Jersey comes along. Oh booo hoo. I wike to wuse my wittle knife to fight with! Who fights a molerat with a knife, anyway?" Hands on hips. "You know, maybe you is that Rattler guy! Maybe you is, right? Sure would make a lot of sense. Like, why youse all gettin' up close and personal with your wittle wife, eh? Come on, speak up, dumpster cup."
"That's why they call you Bratty?" he returned. "Because you won't shut up, and sure are one hell of a brat."
"Will you guys?" Vicious glared. "We can't be having none of that if we're going to survive out here, okay?" She lit a cigarette, subconsciously rewarding herself just then. "This is the Capitol Wasteland. If we is to make like we'll surivive, we's gonna have to cooperate. Like we's a part of Talon Company or the Enclave. Y'all got it?"
The three began walking again, in silence at first. Vicious passed her cigarette to Bratty, who noted silently she was smoking more than a mere cigarette. She puffed, held the smoke in a few seconds, and exhaled. Bratty did not pass their special cigarette to the man.
"Who is this guy you call Rattler, anyway?" asked Vicious.
"Oh, you ain't heard yet? He's some sort of maniac. A carnival! He like... eats people and stuff!"
"You mean cannibal..."
"Huh?"
"You said carnival," Vicious corrected. "Not cannibal. A cannibal is someone who eats people."
"Whatever! My point is this guy Rattler, like there's all these rumors about him. Like, he murdered, then ate some *birch* over at Dukov's place! He's got a lair full of dead bodies! He even tried to kill Three Dog!"
"Oh my guhd, how terrible. What kind of maniac...."
By now it was getting into early afternoon, and they were approaching the north end of the irradiated Potomac. Vicious took a Rad-X (protecting her from the rivers's extreme radiation) before wading into the water. "That feels good." After hours of oven-like heat, she did not care if she took on a few extra rads. After a moment, Bratty joined her.
"There's also this guy called .. um.... Card Killer!" Bratty continued. They began to walk again, dripping yellowish water from their skin. "And he's like, this guy who goes around killing women only." Her voice became sad now. "Only females. And wherever he kills, he leaves a special card behind. Like, a card from a playing card deck. Dude's been linked to a bunch of murders by now."
"What the hell's the world coming to?" Vicious asked, as if the wasteland was a happier place a week ago.
Miss Vicious Delicious carefully avoided getting anywhere near Big Town, as the posse of three approached from the south. Pretty soon they found an outdoor campsite, where others of their kind had already been living for awhile. Safety in numbers, at least for some hours. Here they stayed, partied, and slept for the night.
--------------------------
Vicious 'n' Bratty
Ragdoll'd Wastelander*
Blam! goes the Blamhammer
One less Molerat
Summer night campfire
* This is what I was talking about. Wastelanders keep showing up as random NPCs in her game, and always near raider hangouts! Maybe some dev at Bethesda was playing around with being a raider before the game was released, and put these Wastelanders into the game specifically for those who play as raiders.
Hey, this story is a homage to Lopov's ex-characters. 
The spirit of Rattler lives on.
He did kill Three Dog.
But we still don't know the name of the 3rd member...
Nice pics, the grass in the first one seems a bit brighter than usual, a play of lights or are you using some mod?
The spirit of Rattler lives on. QUOTE
He even tried to kill Three Dog!
He did kill Three Dog.
But we still don't know the name of the 3rd member...
Nice pics, the grass in the first one seems a bit brighter than usual, a play of lights or are you using some mod?
Ha! Yeah, I thought you'd like this chapter. I am glad you said the SPIRIT of Rattler lives on. Not Rattler himself, thank the Nine.
I do use a weather mod, not sure if it's causing this light change you're seeing. But pretty sure Enhanced Weather does include lighting changes.
Meh, I wanted to crank out more material on this fine Saturday day, but the weather's not cooperating, and we have other things to do anyway.
I am glad you said the SPIRIT of Rattler lives on. Not Rattler himself, thank the Nine. I do use a weather mod, not sure if it's causing this light change you're seeing. But pretty sure Enhanced Weather does include lighting changes.
Meh, I wanted to crank out more material on this fine Saturday day, but the weather's not cooperating, and we have other things to do anyway.
Homage to Lopov indeed!
"You said carnival," Vicious corrected. "Not cannibal. A cannibal is someone who eats people."
- - This is just one example of how clever and creative this episode was in terms of wording/dialogue that fits the situation perfectly.
Wow, Bratty's name really does fit her!
"You said carnival," Vicious corrected. "Not cannibal. A cannibal is someone who eats people."
- - This is just one example of how clever and creative this episode was in terms of wording/dialogue that fits the situation perfectly.
Wow, Bratty's name really does fit her!
Blamhammer is a great name for a shotgun.
Bratty seems really excitable.
Miss VD certainly lives in a world full of monsters, with the likes of the Rattler and Card Killer roaming the wastes.
Bratty seems really excitable.
Miss VD certainly lives in a world full of monsters, with the likes of the Rattler and Card Killer roaming the wastes.
I always love a good nickname for a weapon. "Blamhammer" is a good one.
Pretty neat how you get these screenshots to tie in with your story, Renee. Do you write the story in accordance with the screenshots you get? Or do you sometimes try to get screenshots that go along with your story? Both? Neither? Some other answer?
Hoping Card Killer meets an especially horrific death.
Pretty neat how you get these screenshots to tie in with your story, Renee. Do you write the story in accordance with the screenshots you get? Or do you sometimes try to get screenshots that go along with your story? Both? Neither? Some other answer?
Hoping Card Killer meets an especially horrific death.
QUOTE(Lopov @ May 15 2021, 02:21 PM)
He did kill Three Dog.
Not in my gameworld!
Acadian: Bratty is fun to write, like a child who refuses to grow Good thing is, she doesn't have to. She lives in a world without jobs, without resumes & portfolios, without laws and typical modern adult social cues!
Miss Florens: Blamhammer is a play on Banhammer. *bkksh!* Yes, I like to imagine that some of our other characters also roam the wasteland. Makes the story feel bigger!
Rader: Cool, glad you have caught at least some of this.
Hope you continue with Fallout Florida this summer, I think our stories compliment each other. In the past Lopov and I were writing Fallout stuff side-by-side, which was pretty fun, but Lopov's career has taken off, and he only has time for casual gaming nowadays. Card Killer was one of Lopov's past characters (along with Rattler) and both of those guys are thankfully deceased.
The story definitely comes first, although there is some back and forth. Some pictures are just random, and don't have anything to do with the story, but add to the overall atmosphere. I think all the ones from last week actually fit what was going on.
Chapter 19, The Road Trip, Part 2
Friday, August 31st, 2277
Min Temp:: 69 degrees
Max Temp:: 90 degrees
The next morning started off with a bang, which thankfully exploded somewhere far away. Nowhere close to the raiders' outdoor campsite. Vicious got up off the cot she had managed to fall asleep upon the night before, said a quick prayer, and got started with whatever was to come on this warming summer day. The other raiders were still asleep all around her, either by choice or because their intake of chems and alcohol had caused them to fall over, zombified.
She gazed about for a moment. Could not find her new friend amongst the small multitude of fallen arms and limbs.
As she awoke further she grabbed a package of Mutfruit from her pack. Breakfast! She was glad she hadn't 'partied hardy' the night before, as was so common within raider society. Other than a couple beers and a couple cigs, she hadn't done anything too dangerous to her health. No Jet, no Psycho, no cocaine, no opiates. Perhaps this was due to the seriousness of their mission? She asked herself this question as she moseyed about, but was unsure if she could answer positively just yet.
She decided to take a quick inventory of all the items on her person just then.
1 - Pip-Girl 2500 personal information processor
1 - lead pipe (for combat up close)
1 - specialized shotgun. Her precious Blamhammer.
1 - 10 mm pistol
2 - frag grenades
1 - package of Brahmin Steak, and 1 Salisbury Steak
2 - cigarettes (and no pack hidden anywhere. Dammit!)
1 - Chlorazopam tablet
1 - purified water bottle
1 - Rad-X tablet
1 - package of RadAway
2 - Stealth Boys
8 - Stimpaks (their trip to Super Duper Mart two days ago had been worth it)
1 - package of YumYum Deviled Eggs
19 - bobby pins (for lockpicking)
1 - used hypodermic needle
dozens of rounds of 10 mm bullets, and over a hundred shotgun shells.
Good enough, she thought. Time to get this show on the road.
"Rise and shine Vicious." It was the male of their party, come to greet her. "I've already been up for an hour or so. Hard to sleep out here. You ready to head off?"
"Uhm..."
"Starsky's my name, by the way. Starsky Nathaniel Hutch. My momma used to say I was named after some TV action stars from way when, or something."
"Uh-huh. So... have you seen Bratty?" Vicious did a quick look around on her tiptoes, looking all around the small, irradiated pond they'd camped by.
Starsky N. Hutch made a face. "Do we really need to bring her along?" he asked. "Seriously. I am going to be blunt with you now, and you know why I'm asking this. Why did you include her at all?"
Vicious said nothing. Looked to the ground, biting her inner cheek. Two cigarettes, she thought, trying not to fidget.
"Seriously," he repeated. "She's a liability. She's undisciplined. She's a loudmouth. And she pissed me off royally yesterday. We could just leave her here, okay? Just leave her here for a day or two, while we head north to Germantown. Pick her back up as we head back to the school. She got so drunk last night, probably wouldn't know the difference." Starsky was smirking.
"Yeah, but she's my friend," Vicious muttered. She lit up just then, losing her personal nicotine battle for the morning. "I know she's a handful and stuff. But she's a loyal friend. My only friend, in all this mess of a world we live in. And I would disagree somewhat with your assessment of her. Yes she's a loudmouth, but she was the only one who actually volunteered to come along. None of those others wanted the mission. Even Q Tip."
Starsky shrugged. Made another face. "Q Tip's more of an administrative sort of guy.... a pawn, really."
"Plus, she got an actual gun," Vicious ignored. "A machine gun, in relatively good condition. Even though it is a mutt, I'd rather have her firepower at my side than your cheap-ass combat knife. No offense."
"Hey, you're the boss," Starsky put his hands up, surrendering his side of the argument. "And I wouldn't discount my talents with a knife just yet, Miss Vicious."
"Well come on then. Help me find the *stitch*."
9:25 am
Vicious searched all around the campsite, not just for her friend, but also for any sort of weapon she could find, then give to Starsky. Unfortunately, there was nothing laying about. No guns, no bombs. And she was not about to try stealing anything from one of the sleeping raiders. Oh well, I tried. It's his funeral, I guess, thought she.
They eventually did locate the girl from Jersey, a-lay on an old, dusty bedroll. Bratty had passed out at some undetermined time. She still smelled of last night's booze. As Vicious attempted again and again to wake the gal up, she almost did consider Starsky N. Hutch's words more seriously. They could just leave her here. Like she'd know the difference after waking up around noon, or so.
But Vicious did not give up. Call it persistence, call it stubbornness, she simply would not leave her unprincipled chum behind.
As they began walking north, a soft rain began to fall. Blessedly cool and also rad-free. Bratty had been coughing and sputtering like an old hag up until then, trying to wake up. But also determined to wake up, so she could participate with the others. The rain was a good thing, Vicious thought. It seemed to help.
She consulted her Pip-Girl 2500. Switched on its locational map (causing a 212 year-old solar-powered satellite 17 miles above the Earth to beam information). She noted that Germantown Police Department was not too far away. Maybe a quarter mile. Great. They'd be able to get inside the place by afternoon, then. As they walked north, they encountered a centaur, and then a supermutant, both of which were disposed of easily. Up a small hill was Hallowed Moore Cemetery. Another centaur and a half-dozen mutants were there. Again, they didn't stand a chance against the three raiders from Springvale.
"Damn, we is good!" The brat, now fully awake.
"Here take this," Vicious said to Starsky. "You do know how to shoot, right?"
"I know how shoot," he said defensively. "Just 'cause I prefer my knife don't mean I don't know how to shoot."
"Well two those mutants had rifles, and looks like got a few rounds, too. You take all these, then. And maybe we'll get you some more ammo inside. Place we're goin' is a police station, after all."
"You're the boss."
The trio began to walk north again. Vicious consulted the Global Positioning Satellite in her Pip-Girl's map several times. Finally, the place they were looking for was just ahead. As they neared the place something exploded, about a thousand feet to their left. This caused the three of them to stop for a moment. In the distance they could now see what had caused the explosion. Somebody was over there, shooting up cars.
"Yo, is that dude wearin' a policeman's outfit?"
"Yeah, I can see him too!"
"Is that a ghoul? Why would a ghoul be out here, dressed like a policeman, and blowing up cars?"
"Just another day in the Capitol Wasteland," their leader muttered. Her two companions silently agreed.
-----------------------------
Morning Mutfruit
Starsky N. Hutch in action!
Blamhammering a supermutant
Notes: Miss Vicious attained Level 3 today, woo hoo! I dumped a lot of points into Sneak, and chose Thief for her perk. Going for a stealthy type, once again.
Friday, August 31st, 2277
Min Temp:: 69 degrees
Max Temp:: 90 degrees
The next morning started off with a bang, which thankfully exploded somewhere far away. Nowhere close to the raiders' outdoor campsite. Vicious got up off the cot she had managed to fall asleep upon the night before, said a quick prayer, and got started with whatever was to come on this warming summer day. The other raiders were still asleep all around her, either by choice or because their intake of chems and alcohol had caused them to fall over, zombified.
She gazed about for a moment. Could not find her new friend amongst the small multitude of fallen arms and limbs.
As she awoke further she grabbed a package of Mutfruit from her pack. Breakfast! She was glad she hadn't 'partied hardy' the night before, as was so common within raider society. Other than a couple beers and a couple cigs, she hadn't done anything too dangerous to her health. No Jet, no Psycho, no cocaine, no opiates. Perhaps this was due to the seriousness of their mission? She asked herself this question as she moseyed about, but was unsure if she could answer positively just yet.
She decided to take a quick inventory of all the items on her person just then.
1 - Pip-Girl 2500 personal information processor
1 - lead pipe (for combat up close)
1 - specialized shotgun. Her precious Blamhammer.
1 - 10 mm pistol
2 - frag grenades
1 - package of Brahmin Steak, and 1 Salisbury Steak
2 - cigarettes (and no pack hidden anywhere. Dammit!)
1 - Chlorazopam tablet
1 - purified water bottle
1 - Rad-X tablet
1 - package of RadAway
2 - Stealth Boys
8 - Stimpaks (their trip to Super Duper Mart two days ago had been worth it)
1 - package of YumYum Deviled Eggs
19 - bobby pins (for lockpicking)
1 - used hypodermic needle
dozens of rounds of 10 mm bullets, and over a hundred shotgun shells.
Good enough, she thought. Time to get this show on the road.
"Rise and shine Vicious." It was the male of their party, come to greet her. "I've already been up for an hour or so. Hard to sleep out here. You ready to head off?"
"Uhm..."
"Starsky's my name, by the way. Starsky Nathaniel Hutch. My momma used to say I was named after some TV action stars from way when, or something."
"Uh-huh. So... have you seen Bratty?" Vicious did a quick look around on her tiptoes, looking all around the small, irradiated pond they'd camped by.
Starsky N. Hutch made a face. "Do we really need to bring her along?" he asked. "Seriously. I am going to be blunt with you now, and you know why I'm asking this. Why did you include her at all?"
Vicious said nothing. Looked to the ground, biting her inner cheek. Two cigarettes, she thought, trying not to fidget.
"Seriously," he repeated. "She's a liability. She's undisciplined. She's a loudmouth. And she pissed me off royally yesterday. We could just leave her here, okay? Just leave her here for a day or two, while we head north to Germantown. Pick her back up as we head back to the school. She got so drunk last night, probably wouldn't know the difference." Starsky was smirking.
"Yeah, but she's my friend," Vicious muttered. She lit up just then, losing her personal nicotine battle for the morning. "I know she's a handful and stuff. But she's a loyal friend. My only friend, in all this mess of a world we live in. And I would disagree somewhat with your assessment of her. Yes she's a loudmouth, but she was the only one who actually volunteered to come along. None of those others wanted the mission. Even Q Tip."
Starsky shrugged. Made another face. "Q Tip's more of an administrative sort of guy.... a pawn, really."
"Plus, she got an actual gun," Vicious ignored. "A machine gun, in relatively good condition. Even though it is a mutt, I'd rather have her firepower at my side than your cheap-ass combat knife. No offense."
"Hey, you're the boss," Starsky put his hands up, surrendering his side of the argument. "And I wouldn't discount my talents with a knife just yet, Miss Vicious."
"Well come on then. Help me find the *stitch*."
9:25 am
Vicious searched all around the campsite, not just for her friend, but also for any sort of weapon she could find, then give to Starsky. Unfortunately, there was nothing laying about. No guns, no bombs. And she was not about to try stealing anything from one of the sleeping raiders. Oh well, I tried. It's his funeral, I guess, thought she.
They eventually did locate the girl from Jersey, a-lay on an old, dusty bedroll. Bratty had passed out at some undetermined time. She still smelled of last night's booze. As Vicious attempted again and again to wake the gal up, she almost did consider Starsky N. Hutch's words more seriously. They could just leave her here. Like she'd know the difference after waking up around noon, or so.
But Vicious did not give up. Call it persistence, call it stubbornness, she simply would not leave her unprincipled chum behind.
As they began walking north, a soft rain began to fall. Blessedly cool and also rad-free. Bratty had been coughing and sputtering like an old hag up until then, trying to wake up. But also determined to wake up, so she could participate with the others. The rain was a good thing, Vicious thought. It seemed to help.
She consulted her Pip-Girl 2500. Switched on its locational map (causing a 212 year-old solar-powered satellite 17 miles above the Earth to beam information). She noted that Germantown Police Department was not too far away. Maybe a quarter mile. Great. They'd be able to get inside the place by afternoon, then. As they walked north, they encountered a centaur, and then a supermutant, both of which were disposed of easily. Up a small hill was Hallowed Moore Cemetery. Another centaur and a half-dozen mutants were there. Again, they didn't stand a chance against the three raiders from Springvale.
"Damn, we is good!" The brat, now fully awake.
"Here take this," Vicious said to Starsky. "You do know how to shoot, right?"
"I know how shoot," he said defensively. "Just 'cause I prefer my knife don't mean I don't know how to shoot."
"Well two those mutants had rifles, and looks like got a few rounds, too. You take all these, then. And maybe we'll get you some more ammo inside. Place we're goin' is a police station, after all."
"You're the boss."
The trio began to walk north again. Vicious consulted the Global Positioning Satellite in her Pip-Girl's map several times. Finally, the place they were looking for was just ahead. As they neared the place something exploded, about a thousand feet to their left. This caused the three of them to stop for a moment. In the distance they could now see what had caused the explosion. Somebody was over there, shooting up cars.
"Yo, is that dude wearin' a policeman's outfit?"
"Yeah, I can see him too!"
"Is that a ghoul? Why would a ghoul be out here, dressed like a policeman, and blowing up cars?"
"Just another day in the Capitol Wasteland," their leader muttered. Her two companions silently agreed.
-----------------------------
Morning Mutfruit
Starsky N. Hutch in action!
Blamhammering a supermutant
Notes: Miss Vicious attained Level 3 today, woo hoo! I dumped a lot of points into Sneak, and chose Thief for her perk. Going for a stealthy type, once again.
QUOTE
Vicious got up off the cot she had managed to fall asleep upon the night before, said a quick prayer, and got started with whatever was to come on this warming summer day.
That's just one of the things that make Taneesha stand out among other raiders of the Capital Wasteland.
Starsky & Hutch united in one person!
Did they spend a night in that camp just over the bridge north of Big Town?
Lol, I think I liked Starsky better when he kept his mouth shut.
Oh my! We know who that ghoulish police officer is!
Oh my! We know who that ghoulish police officer is!
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