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ExcessivelyTimewise's avatar

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ℚ Bץєяℓy
“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”
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“No, nothing at all, thank you.” There was a slight, knowing smile and a nod. “You could say that.” The smile slipped away again and Byerley’s face was once again unreadable as he engaged in some subtle people-watching. With all the conversations going on around him, people nursing drinks that demanded their full attention, it was guaranteed that he could get away with it so long as he didn’t make it obvious, his eyes never rested on any one group for too long; be it the shifty man or the group that Valentine had indicated as her comrades.
The change in lighting caused him to raise his eyes momentarily.

The town had power again? That was nice; Raiders had less cover of darkness that way.
The nudge from under the table brought Valentine back into sharp focus, rousing Byerley from private thoughts that had ranged from the hasty burial of the Brahmin previously to the moment they entered the door of the Fission hole—and everything in between. He even glanced downward, not entirely sure the nudge had been intentional before he looked back to pinkhair.
“I… to a degree,I can generally hit something at 35 to 40 yards away, depending on the conditions—average range. Moving targets are difficult, but I’ve managed to kill some of the raiders on the way into town.” He said quietly with a glance in the general direction of the weapons closet as if it might bring the weapon back into his hands.
Despite the neutral voice, he couldn't help the almost dejected tone that crept into the edges of his voice. “I apparently didn’t kill enough to make a difference in their numbers…”

It was very well all the same, he told himself. If killing many of the raiders had been one of the unspoken criteria to be acceptable there, many of the townspeople would be worse off than he was. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lacing his fingers together as his eyes briefly skimmed the surface of the stew. It didn't look too particularly appetizing, but then again nothing ever did when one didn't have the concept of hunger and taste. Alcohol certainly threw him for a loop, he only found it useful for improvisational firebombs.

You just want him to draw attention to himself in that tuxedo. XD
Sithorn's avatar

Explorer

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Dr. Alcana
Danger Sense xxxxxx Hyperesthesia xxxxxx Anatomical Mastery

{ Wellbeing } Cooling downxxx{ Company } Trev, Caravanersxxx{ Patients } Trev - Stablized , Nadia - Wardxxx{ Location } Falls Creek/Clinic >>> Fission Hole


"beeep... beeep... beeep... CLANK - SEVEN O-FIVE PM E - S - T - "

"Crrrzzzt... Good evening sir. Dew point 19.75 °C at base window, temperature declines to .... chhhhht ... 265.372 °k low ... Anticipated showers. I detect you are in a bad temper sir. Perhaps a joke? -"

'George. Music. Now." Grumbled Dr. Alcana from where he leaned upon the blood-spattered sink with his face in his palm. He had been sitting in silence beside the acetyline lamp for the last quarter hour or so. The humming of the battery to which Trev's life support was jacked mixed with the heart monitors constant chirping to form a susurration which was slowly lulling him into something like a state of calm. He had just wholly shut his eyes when the current shuttered, and the ceiling lights slammed on, punching clouds of red after burn straight through his eyelids. With the power surge came a suddenly quite alert and partially defensive George radio system. George was hopscotch on its job, and didn't waste a moment to greet the good doctor. Which was just awful.

"-- very good sir. - ~'
♪-I hate to seeee that evening suuu-uuuunnn go-o downnnnn
I hate to see-eee that evening su-uunn go-o downnn
'Cause, my baaaby, he's go-oo'ne leeeft thi-iss town....♪
"

And so with the light and with George returned the voice of Bessie Smith, which wasn't so awful, and woke the doctor to something like full awareness. Cutting off the lamp, he sat up and took view of his operating room. Trev lay partially inclined upon the gurney nearest the sink. He saw now what he could not see by the harsh light of the lamp- the color was now rapidly returning to the trader's cheeks. The transfusion was taking effect. The read-out on the screen beside the bed confirmed what the doctor had supposed from the consistent nature of Trevor's heartbeat- he was going to make it. Optimistically, the doctor stood and walked over to his patient. Keeping an eye out around him as he walked, he saw the other injured trader who rested at ease in her bed over by the 'ward' in the corner. Nadia's arm was coiled in front of her, wrapped in a sling. Rickie dozed in a folding chair a few feet from Trev's bed. Not even the harsh clangor of the power blazing on could wake her. What an alarming change from earlier. The entire afternoon she stalked just outside the radius of the operating table, frantic, trying to ask the Doctor what she could do, prattling off allergens and dissolving into what seemed like an epileptic fit every time he flatlined. Now she was tuckered out.

Standing over the gurney, Alcana took a cool rag to the exposed right half of Trev's forehead and adjusted the diagonal bandage which secured the man's temple and destitute left orbit. As he did so, he saw the man's right eye flicker open and fix on his face with a glassy expression. He was still heavily drugged, it was all the doctor could do to stave off the pain, but the expression conveyed a sort of strange awareness. There was a moment where he just looked around, flitting his eye from left to right and trying rather unsuccessfully to shift his head, then he suddenly pressed to sit up. The confidence with which he did took the Doctor aback, but he didn't leap to stop him.

"Careful. You're not out of the woods yet. "
"Woods?" Trev muttered, squinting his eye as if he were adjusting to see trees he just wasn't seein'.
"Dante's Crossroad, Trev. No bullshit, you're short an eye son. How are you feeling?"
'Hungry." He moved a hand to cup his stomach. The Doctor noted his exceptional motor function, and almost split a smile.
"Nothing hefty yet. You like noodles?"
"Anything." He shut his eye and laid back down.
"Hold tight"

George turned the record, and the music wound off and cut as the phonograph prattled. Soon crackled on a lighter tune, one interspersed with french horn and a piano handle-
"♪Love, oh love, oh careless love, You've fly though my head like wine - You've wrecked the life Of many a poor girl, And you nearly spoiled this life of mine...♪"

Alcana strode around the gurney and the clinic to Nadia's bed. He snatched up a crutch from a shelf beside the bed and rested it on his shoulder. Nudging her good arm with the round rubber foot, he prompted her playfully to wake up. She complied with one bloodshot eye. In fact, she hadn't even really been sleeping.

"Evening. How's the leg?" Now he was almost chipper, beaming. He went to work unfolding the sling.
'Not so bad.' She said, almost defiantly. She gingerly bent it at the elbow, sooner flexing it with greater confidence. Her fracture was hairline throughout the Radius, which was expertly secured with a series of flexible splints. She sat up, legs hanging off of the bed. He nodded with approval at her attitude.

"I bet you're starving."
'Damnright."


"I'm getting some grub. You keep an eye on Trevor. Won't be long"
He snatched a small grey walkie-talkie from a holster on the wall and handed it to her, indicating as he did so that the counterpart hung at his belt. She nodded and flopped to her feet. Nadia had experienced some very severe blunt trauma, but she handled the discomfort like a pro. She gamboled towards the chair where the doctor had been sitting and edged her way into it.



Passing the chair where the comatose Rickie sat with head hanging, he stopped and turned on his heel to loudly whisper- "what does she like?" he stood pointing furtively over his shoulder.
Nadia snickered and shrugged her good arm, loudly whispering back "Anything BlamCo." The Doctor nodded and strode back for the door. He took one last look at Trev,
and saw that his eye was open again, looking right at him. The expression there was difficult to read, because the doped face that eye stared out of conveyed no general expression.
He looked away and pushed through the door, out into the cool breezy evening and towards the noise of the Fission Hole.

-- -- --


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[ Wearing ] Merc Charmer Outfit, Goggles
[ Packing ] Scalpel [1]
[ Carrying ] [In satchel] Gauze [2], Sanitary gloves [2], Thread and needle [2], Local Anisthetic [1], Radaway [1], Epinephrine [1] [bundle] Splint [3]
[Hide Sidebag] Bottle of Vodka [1], Geiger Counter [1]

[ Immediate vicinity ] Full medical array, various machines.


[ OOC ] Chomp chomp chomp.
Jamison Hollow

See in the Dark xxxxxx Danger Sense xxxxxx Hacker

[ Wellbeing ] Satiatedxxx[ Company ] Dustrunners, Val, Qxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

Jamison was watching the jumpsuit-clad man with quite fascination, though he was careful to avoid staring; rather, he just occasionally glanced at the man every once in a while while he was talking, to make it seem as though he was paying attention. He was curious as to why he wasn't eating, especially considering the scarcity of food in the wasteland. Perhaps the man wasn't hungry, but Jamison didn't buy it; even if you weren't hungry, you ate when food was presented to you. It was one of the earliest lessons he had learned once he had left his comfortable home and taken his first steps into the desert. Still, he mused, it wasn't any of his business, and he instead turned his attention back to the traders.

"So when are we going to be heading out?" he asked lightly, having been asleep for most of the day and therefore not privy to the current state of the town.

"Not anytime soon, kid," Garen replied, taking a swig of his beer. "Road's blocked by Raiders, and unless you want to take them all on, we're not gonna be leaving for a while. Might as well get comfortable."

Jamison briefly considered this. By himself, such a task surely wouldn't be too much of a challenge, right? He had avoided entire platoons of raiders when he was younger, able to keep out of sight as they went about their business. However, the problem wasn't avoiding them, but getting around them with all of their merchandise. He couldn't very well sneak a brahmin past an entire group of Raiders, after all. Besides, this was unfamiliar territory; sure, he had been able to survive in the Metro, but only after years of studying every aspect of them, every nook and cranny. He was no longer on his home turf, and trying to sneak out without scouting the surrounding area was nothing short of suicide. Besides, he added to himself, he couldn't honestly say that he was all that stealthy. He could keep quiet, sure, but most of his stealth abilities came more from his preparation than from any natural ability to go without being seen. He was no Crimson Dragoon, after all.

The boy was snapped out of his thoughts when a bowl of stew was set before him. Nodding his thanks, he sampled a bit of it. While slightly saltier than he would have liked, it was hearty and filling, and the taste was far superior to some of his own cooking. Radroach meat mixed with irradiated sewer water... Jamison suppressed that memory as soon as it surfaced, to keep his dinner from surfacing as well. Instead, he turned his attention to Val, once he had pulled his spoon away from his mouth.

"Mm... shooting raiders is one thing," he said slowly, "but how much ammo can he afford to waste, aye? Surely there are better ways to fight off Raiders than simply shooting them, especially if they're so much of a problem and likely have their own position set up." He was talking from experience here, his years in the tunnels surfacing. "Is there any way to scout out what they have set up, and maybe find a way to get around it? I could send out EVA to scout around, if need be." The floating Eyebot swung towards him slowly, and he could swear, if the machine could glare, it would be staring daggers at him.


*Wearing: Roving Trader's Outfit
*Packing: AEP7 Laser Pistol
*Carrying: Nothing
Misthral's avatar

Shadowy Streaker

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                                                  See Twice as Farxxx Danger Sensexxx Die Hard

                                                  Location: Fission HolexxxCompany: Valentine, Q & Jamison. (Plus everyone else around)xxxWellbeing: Itchyxxx

                                                  OOC: Toby le ronexxx

                                                  Following Shawn's outburst, Stella rose both hands in peace. For good measure she also shook her head. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that either. I was just trying to point out that something like that should be told sooner rather than later. You've already had most of the day to mention it Shawn." Stella tried to sound as friendly as possible this time, not wanting to upset her friend any more over the issue. She was honestly just trying to help. Just in that moment, Stella blinked into the returning light. Interestingly the power had come back on. With a smile she emptied her glass and set it back on the bar. "I'll take two this round, if you don't mind Shawn," she asked in her sweetest voice.

                                                  Once the drinks were poured Stella hopped down from the bar. She took the two glasses over to the small crowd surrounding Valentine and dropped the spare down by her friend. "Sorry to interrupt. Just making sure the patient hasn't scratched her stitches out yet." She grinned conspiratorially with Valentine. Stella still had the sheathed knife stuck in her bandage from her earlier. She wasn't exactly one to comment on leaving stitches to heal. Stella pulled up a chair nearby and listened in on the topic of conversation. She couldn't help but glance at the eyebot and wonder at its usefulness. "That might be useful," she mused. The idea of using a machine to scout, rather than a human life was easily justifiable in Stella's mind. Then again she doubted this guy wanted to lose his toy. "Then again, we tried doing some scouting ourselves when this all started. Two guys got killed on the first day, and we gave up after that. Seemed wiser to focus on defence. Would be great if you could find out more than we could. But you might risk losing that urrr... thingy?" She shrugged in a way that said it was up to him.

                                                  Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
                                                  Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded](stored), Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
                                                  Carrying: Canteen, Stimpack [3]
Misthral's avatar

Shadowy Streaker

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                                                  Hackerxxx Mechanicxxx Presence

                                                  Location: Power Station // Fission HolexxxCompany: Alone // Shawn & MaxxxxWellbeing: Tiredxxx

                                                  OOC: Bleghxxx

                                                  After what seemed like an eternity, Dean got to his feet and tried to stretch some of the kinks out of his back. It hadn't been hours since his last break, but it felt like it. In that same moment he yawned, reminded yet again that he was dog tired. But at last, he had repaired enough to at least return power to the town. The townsfolk might find the the next day that the mine equipment would seriously drain the power available. At least until he or someone else patched up the rest of the station. For now, this was acceptable. Dean grabbed his crutch and stumbled his way to where the circuit breakers were kept. He flicked the relevant switches, pushed the necessary buttons and then watched with satisfaction as the station powered up, and power returned to the main overhead lights. Shame that the light illuminated the blood stains that Dean had struggled to ignore earlier, when the sun had still been bright enough. It reminded him of Pascal's loss. Quickly Dean packed away the tools and stored them safely in the power station, he would need them again tomorrow so it seemed pointless to remove them. Now he was going to head over to the Fission Hole quickly to report to Shawn and thank Q for his assistance.

                                                  Shawn was easy to spot in his usual place behind the bar. Q took a bit more time, but soon Dean spotted him in a small crowd of all places. He hobbled up to them, leaning heavily on his crutch, a good sign that he looked as tired as he felt. "Q?" He inquired first to get the man's attention. Once he had it Dean stuck out one of his palms, "thanks for you help earlier. Those spare parts came in handy." Dean attempted a gratified smile, but he was too tired to tell if he made it or not. He waited for Q's returning handshake, then bid the others a pleasant evening and tottered off towards the bar. "Hey Shawn," Dean spoke like he was baring bad news. "The power is back on, but the generator isn't working at full capacity yet. I imagine your mining crew will run into power shortage problems tomorrow. I'll try and fix it as soon as possible tomorrow. Shouldn't take too long, I did the bulk of the work today with Q's help. But sorry for the inconvenience." As he finished Dean sank into one of the free barstools. Regretting it right away, because it would take a lot of effort to get back up again.



                                                  Wearing: Merc Grunt Outfit [Black Shirt, Khaki Pants]
                                                  Packing: 10mm Pistol [Modded]
                                                  Carrying: Med X [2], Crutch, Radio.
ExcessivelyTimewise's avatar

Questionable Friend

ℚ Bץєяℓy
“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”
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“Fighting them off, shooting them, it all takes ammunition in the end until it’s gone and one has to resort to a shovel or a pipewrench.” He said quietly, glancing from the younger man’s face, to the eyebot, then back again to Jamison.
The glass being offered and placed in front of him sent up a flag as red as the woman’s hair while he watched the liquid’s surface ripple and settle. He thanked her genuinely, never the less, smiling.
The eyebot’s presence had made him uneasy, when he noticed it but fortunately he reminded himself that eyebots generally couldn’t distinguish between living things and machines. He calmed himself down easily—the panic having barely registered on his face any more that his light eyes widening and darting toward the door. Dean’s appearance had also prompted the glance; the man looked a little worse for wear and Byerley hadn’t been around long enough to know that Dean’s injury was a rather old one.

Never the less, he served as a merciful—if only temporary—distraction as Byerley stood from the table and took the man’s hand, shaking it. “It was nothing.” Unfortunately the potential conversation wasn’t there, leaving him to excuse himself from the table with a murmured excuse for needing fresh air.
Outside he allowed his shoulders to slouch slightly as he wracked his positronic brain in an attempt to find a way out of drinking the proffered alcohol. Humans invariably were big on sharing alcohol the more they drank of it. He could always fake it, and simply have to clean the chest cavity out later—it was best that he wasn’t gone long while catching this 'breather'. He stepped back inside the Fission Hole, glancing toward a woman who appeared to be dozing at a table. Everyone was just as he had left them, even if a few sent more curious looks his way.
Tiny Red Bee's avatar

Omnipresent Consumer

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                            Valentine

                            Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxxxxx Fancy Footwork xxxxxx Survive Wound

                            [ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Everyone in th' bar!xxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

                            Valentine was focused on her food and booze, but she smiled at Byerley's answer. "You did your best with what you had," she said in a quiet tone intended for him. It was support from one merc to another, although Garen would understand, too. The loss of any caravan traders when you were set to ensure their survival was a bit hit on any decent bodyguard. That's harsh. Has he been dealing with that alone since he got here?

                            Her attention was drawn to Jamison. "Maybe you should come out with us tomorrow, with EVA of course. I want to try and get some of the mines. We could conserve ammunition if we planted them ourselves. EVA could scout while we find and disable the explosives." She flashed a smile at the youth. Valentine was used to the eye-bot by now, and occasionally she would follow it around trying to get a closer look, regardless of EVA's laser-firing capabilities. "I'm aiming to be at the Western Barricades around dawn, so if you want to come be there then." With a final swig, her drink was gone.

                            She hadn't thought to ask Byerley his opinion, but surely he wouldn't complain? She had no time to ask for his input as Stella sat down, bringing with her two fresh drinks. "Well there ya' are, I thought you forgot about me! And no scratchin'! See, my bandages are still in place." She patted her shoulder. If she moved the wrong way, it hurt, but all in all it wasn't the worst wound she'd ever taken, or likely would. She would have to watch herself tomorrow digging so she didn't rip the stitches, but she was confident she could remain active. Or even fight, if the need arose.

                            The bar was picking up. To her jumpsuit-clad companion she commented, "Well said. If you're out of bullets, you can always lob rocks." Valentine managed a few more mouthfuls of her meal before somebody approached their table, this time to see Byerley. When the brief exchange between the two men was done, she was surprised when Byerley rose and excused himself for a moment.

                            Hmmm... Well, he hadn't wanted anything earlier to order, right? So he wouldn't mind if she nipped the drink Stella had put before him. With a mischievous expression, Valentine picked up the glass, and as she drained it she tilted her head back. She shuddered when she was done, and replaced it.

                            The innocent expression on her face that she offered Byerley was a dead give-away.


                            [ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
                            [ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
                            [ Carrying ] Flashlight

                            [ OOC ]
Jamison Hollow

See in the Dark xxxxxx Danger Sense xxxxxx Hacker

[ Wellbeing ] Satiatedxxx[ Company ] Dustrunners, Val, Q, Stellaxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

"EVA," Jamison replied as he set down his spoon, though he said it with a smile. "Her name's EVA," he addressed Stella, glancing over his shoulder at Eyebot. "And you shouldn't worry about her. She preens a lot, but she's tough. It's not like she has reinforced armor or anything, but she can take hits, and I designed her internal hardware to be able to resist most damage. It can get jimmied, loose, or even partially destroyed, and she can still work just fine. So long as I have her chassis, even if she gets destroyed, I can still rebuild her." He smiled over his shoulder at the robot with a bit of pride. "This girl's got more than nine lives, I promise you that much."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Q staring at his Eyebot with what appeared to be surprise. This, in turn, raised Jamison's hackles slightly. What if he had figured out... no, that was impossible. Instead, he quirked his head at the man, smiling wistfully as he replied, "Well... not necessarily, not if you have a perpetual battery set up somehow, or an automatically recharging clip. I've heard of people tinkering around with machinery for that purpose, though I don't know if they were successful. It sounds like a pipe dream, but it'd be infinitely useful if it could be done." Shaking his head, he turned his attention over to Val, who was inviting him to join them clearing mines the next day.

This request he considered briefly. Mine-clearing was always dangerous, no matter how skilled with explosives and traps you were. Jamison had more experience than most in taking out traps and setting them up, but he wasn't stupid enough to want to charge headfirst into a minefield. Again, this came down to the lack of knowledge that he had about the surrounding area. Did the Raiders have snipers in the area? What kind of mines were they using? How wide was the field, and how much cover would they be under? If they worked in daylight, they would have a better chance of uncovering more mines, but they would also be more exposed; the opposite problem presented itself at night.

"You have a point," he replied slowly, pushing his empty bowl away from him. "And setting up our own minefield would definitely be more useful than trying to shoot everyone who pokes their head out of their holes. Alright, you can count me in. EVA as well," he added with a pointed look at the Eyebot, who let out a soft, mechanical sigh.


*Wearing: Roving Trader's Outfit
*Packing: AEP7 Laser Pistol
*Carrying: Nothing
ExcessivelyTimewise's avatar

Questionable Friend

ℚ Bץєяℓy
“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”
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"And setting up our own minefield would definitely be more useful than trying to shoot everyone who pokes their head out of their holes. Alright, you can count me in. EVA as well,"
Byerley caught the tail end of the conversation when he rejoined the small group of people, glancing down at the empty glass and then to Valentine’s entirely guilty face. Well, the expression was innocent but there was a certain mischievousness behind her eyes that gave her away.
Little emotion registered on his face beyond a slight smirk at the alcohol’s absence. It was better that way, anyway.
“On the way in to town, I didn’t notice whether they had set up outposts or had any sort of plan; it just seemed like they appeared out of nowhere…lying in wait, I’d imagine. They’ve probably had this town under siege before the vendor and I arrived.” He mused quietly as he took his seat once more, leaning on his elbow to rest his chin in his hand as the others talked around him and he quietly entertained his own thoughts; thoughts of revenge for as long as the subject was on the raider problem, unfortunately.
Chances were the one-armed raider was long gone, probably sleeping in a stolen bed in some other small town. Falls Creek couldn’t be the only place a large enough army of raiders would plague. Any small settlement within easy-travelling distance had probably been sacked, burned, and taken over.
His fingers curled into a fist under the table and he felt a hollow spot in his normal mood.
GeeGeeGoJayBee's avatar

Sparkly Streaker

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                                    Daniel Boudreaux

                                    Smooth Talker xxxxxx Allurexxxxxx Fortune's Choosen

                                    [ Wellbeing ] Alright xxx [ Company ] Bar goers xxx [ Whereabouts ] Fission Hole


                                    Daniel listened intently as the others recounted their encounters with the raiders. None of it seemed like good news. It was better than being dead, sure, but not by much. The minefield outside of town ruined any promise of fleeing town. Sure, the minefield could be cleared but if the raiders were willing to go through the trouble of setting up a minefield they were probably willing to do a lot more. Stella and Max seemed to be content with being stuck in Falls Creek but Daniel would rather be anywhere else. He was relatively content with Falls Creek a few weeks ago but the thought of being stuck there, well anywhere really, repulsed him.

                                    He found it surprising that Shawn would offer him a job at the Fission Hole. Sure, Daniel was okay to take care of the Fission Hole for a couple of hours but he never was really one for an official job. He felt the same way about jobs as he did places, he just couldn’t stay with one for long. There was really no urgent need for Daniel to have a job. Despite not being properly employed he did well for himself with cards and other ‘activities’. However there really wasn’t all that much to do in Falls Creek, especially now with this raider problem.

                                    While pondering the proposition the lights in the bar flickered and then kicked on. Daniel hummed with faint interest. He actually liked the momentary lack of light, it was cozy and relaxing. The lack of power makes a person slow down. It makes them think a little harder and look a little closer. Things became more deliberate when there was no power. Daniel was a deliberate person and he liked it when other people were the same way. ”Well Shawn” Daniel lazily said after a moment, ”I like you, so I wouldn’t mind helping out.”

                                    Daniel fished a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He tapped one out and put it in his mouth. ”Just let me have a drink every once and a while and I’ll be happy.” He lit the cigarette before continuing. ”Speaking of which could you get me something, if you don’t mind.”




                                    [ Wearing ] Well Heeled Gambler Suit
                                    [ Packing ] Cowboy Repeater [1], Switchblade [1]
                                    [ Carrying ] Deck of Cards[1], Pack of Cigarettes[1]

                                    [ OOC ]Bleh I'm awful
Misthral's avatar

Shadowy Streaker

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                                                  User Image

                                                  See Twice as Farxxx Danger Sensexxx Die Hard

                                                  Location: Fission HolexxxCompany: Valentine, Q & Jamison. (Plus everyone else around)xxxWellbeing: Itchyxxx

                                                  OOC: Toby Leronexxx

                                                  Stella nodded along with the Dustrunner's robotics lesson. She understood the jist of it even if repairing a burnt out chaises seemed like a long shot to her. Then again that guy up in the garage could do some amazing stuff with scrap too. "Well if EVA doesn't mind, any reconnaissance would be useful to the town." Stella had the feeling that the robot wasn't too pleased, but found the reaction somewhat fascinating. The ex mercenary hadn't come across many robots in her lifetime. Stella shifted her attention away from the floating mech and slugged down her drink. "Well I don't mind coming out and giving you guys the lay of the land, if you want." Stella offered, thinking that a local might be helpful and also thinking that doing something proactive was a welcome change from just running around cleaning up the mess the raiders caused.

                                                  Letting her offer sink in, Stella frowned at her friend. She'd noticed the drink swiping going on during offering her services to the group. Finally Stella rolled her eyes at Valentine's expression and took a glance at Byerley. He didn't seem bothered, so Stella thought that maybe he didn't like alcohol that much. Not everyone did. Stella turned her attention back to the group. She had just one other comment to make. "About those mines though. I'm sure you know what you're doing, but some folk in this town are a few cards short of a deck. Or they just don't listen to you." Stella shook her head, Mrs Greene came to the front of her mind. "Last thing we need are accidents. I'll ask Shawn in the morning if he has any schematic maps for the town. If we draw up enough copies of where the mine fields are then the town folk should be safe." Stella shrugged. Many friends knew she wasn't usually the careful type, but that was just in regards to her own safety. Stella always feels like she knows her limits. But the town folk are another matter, she stayed to protect them, even from themselves.


                                                  Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
                                                  Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded](stored), Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
                                                  Carrying: Canteen, Stimpack [3]
Tiny Red Bee's avatar

Omnipresent Consumer

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                            Shawn Levesque

                            Smoothtalker xxxxxx Presence xxxxxx Fancy Footwork

                            [ Wellbeing ] Jus' dandyxxx[ Company ] Anyone at the Barxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

                            Shawn grinned at both Max and Daniel. "That's great!" He stubbed his cigarette out on the bar ashtray and reached across to shake each man's hand. "Thank you, gentlemen. I'm just going to add you to my pay-roll right now, and make it official." From under the bar he pulled small duct-taped bundle that had once been an address book. It had less than half its pages left, but it held together. Although Shawn kept a record for the bar and mine on a computer in his room, he found it easier to keep track of tabs, tips, grocery lists and other such notations in the book. Quickly, he found the page with his employees names: after his brother and mother's passings, he'd torn out the old one and started fresh so for now, only Angus and Laurie were listed.

                            He added Max - Mercenary - 40 caps per shift and Daniel - Bar - 25 caps a day, free drinks. "I need to go have a chat with some other folk. Should be back in a few. Here, on me." He plunked a bottle of whiskey that had a few shots left between the two. Just as Shawn was heading out towards the tables, small book and pencil in hand, he recognized Dean headed his way.

                            It was a relief to have the power on. Shawn had been a mite worried about the kitchen--the ancient refrigerator needed Dean's constant maintenance and the electric stoves were finicky, too. He offered the mechanic a grateful smile. "Don't worry overmuch. I've decided to close the Canary for now, with all the raiders and all. It'd be best if everyone concentrated on their safety. You've done a wonder getting things up and running as is." He patted the other man on the shoulder as he passed by.

                            Liliana hadn't moved, had she? He approached the booth and saw her within its sheltering confines. Shawn cleared his throat. "Carson?" He called, loud enough to he heard over the jukebox and the discussions. He waited to see if she was awake or coherent enough to make a deal before he spoke further.

                            [ Wearing ] Bartending Outfit
                            [ Packing ] .45 Auto [1]
                            [ Carrying ] [In trouser & apron pockets] Cigarette Pack [1], Rad-X [2], Stimpack [2], 2043B Radio, Cigarette Lighter, Henry's Pocketwatch

                            [ OOC ]
Sithorn's avatar

Explorer

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Danger Sense xxxxxx Hyperesthesia xxxxxx Anatomical Mastery

{ Wellbeing } Pleasantxxx{ Company } Barfull of Creekersxxx{ Patients } Trev - Stablized, Nadia - Wardxxx{ Location } Falls Creek / Fission Hole


There is something truly incredible about the sun setting on the margins of the wasteland. Especially on an evening like this one, where the westering clouds reached as far as they could, but could not capture the orange disk as it rolled between their fingers and over the horizon. Through sheets of rain, over ridges of debris, bright along the great curve of the asphalt highway bending north of town, the orange beams of that setting sun struck the doctor still and pulled his narrow eyes across this momentarily beautiful landscape. This moment, perplexing and alien, is one that no living thing above the ground has gone a lifetime without seeing.

The doctor sometimes wondered what the sunset was like in times before. He wondered if he saw in moments like this the vague phantoms of what the original inhabitants of Falls Creek had known and flourished in before the cataclysm of the war. He wondered what sunsets were like in other places- in places where perhaps trees grew and stood on the hills, hills just like the barren ones that cupped the sun right now. He felt himself both invigorated and burdened with melancholy.

Whatever it was he saw in the sunset, or whatever it was he thought he saw there- Doctor Alcana was a realist who put his work before his flights of fancy, and he didn't stick around to look out for much more than a moment. He turned and walked on, watching his long shadow waver before him as he made east for the Fission Hole. He thought he saw a figure standing by the door of the bar as he made that way, but before he'd taken half the walk the now familiar shape of Byerly slunk back in through the door. He wondered just how many people were gathered in the hole. Considering the days' events, he figured a fair amount.

Roundabout a minute he pushed through the door to find a full house. He spotted right away half a dozen familiar faces. There were young Stella Vasile's bright reds bobbing beside the pink shock of Valtentine's hair. The doctor had been fascinated, though not exactly surprised, that Vasile's old A-Pex colleague had in the same measure a natural resilience to pain and an exceptionally colorful vocabulary. Those two together packed an entire canister of 'shut the ******** up'; he did not envy any adversary who did not see that at first glance.
There was Byerly, Cryptic as ever. That exact same posture, that exact same facial expression- Unperturbed and imperturbable. The doctor had earlier intended to express his gratitude, but the young man had slipped off just after they returned to the clinic. He could not now shake the image to which he had awoken from a flurry of intense procedure under the lean to- there stood Q, arm extended, rifle as level as a slide-rule, the remains of some wasted raider who had slipped the fight and gone north along the inner blockade. Brain matter, skull fragments and shards of helmet, the colors were all inside of the lines. Alcana had seen enough battleground brutality to know the aftermath of a good shot when he saw it.

There by the booths was young Shawn, elsewhere, old Silas at his drinks, little Penny bobbing in her chair, ready to destroy her dinner. A few others weren't so familiar to the Doctor. Some were faces he'd seen before, but didn't know the name that went with them- Settlers, Dust runners, and the odd Eyebot. The Eyebot caught his attention. He hadn't seen one of those functional for a good many years.

So, well, he stood bemused, looking at the Eyebot which for some reason was acting rather agitated. Quite odd to walk in from the dusk to find a spiky hunk of metal about the size of a medicine ball vibrating in mid air.



User Image - Blocked by "Display Image" Settings. Click to show.
[ Wearing ] Merc Charmer Outfit, Goggles
[ Packing ] Scalpel[1]
[ Carrying ] [In satchel] Gauze [2], Sanitary gloves [2], Thread and needle [2], Vodka [1], Radaway [1], Epinephrine [1] Walkie Talkie [1]
[ Immediate vicinity ] N/A


[ OOC ] -^-
ExcessivelyTimewise's avatar

Questionable Friend

ℚ Bץєяℓy
“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”
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“Mapping out the rearranged mine field might be the best thing.” Q spoke up again, looking to Stella momentarily with a small smile as he offered his opinion and approval for the other’s idea.
He recalled a little of what Valentine had mentioned of her, mostly name and the fact that they were good friends. She seemed nice enough offering the alcohol like that. Nothing else came to mind. “That may be the best course of action regarding the town, at least.” Although was no stopping the town drunk or two wandering into the minefield, unfortunately.
They were headed in the right direction.

He frowned slightly with the sudden thought that occurred to him. “If there are too many maps and the raiders get their hands on them, the effort could become a waste of time…at the same time people need to know where they are. It’s always possible to draw up the maps in such a way that the raiders may not be able to read them; hell, some of the bastards may even be illiterate…” He trailed off, glancing toward the door when the doctor entered the bar, causing Q to instinctively wonder if the man had bad news for Valentine. His eyes darted away once, but he offered the doctor a polite nod in the fraction of a second that they had made eye contact.
Alcana seemed more interested in the eyebot than he did whatever news he may have had; Q also found himself looking back to Eva as well, wondering if the machine had more capabilities than the young man had originally boasted.
Max Burrows
Danger Sense xxxxxx Hyperesthesia xxxxxx Die Hard


[ Location ] Fission Hole ==> Max's Shack xxxxxx [ Company ] Himself

[ Wearing ] Un-buttoned up shirt over a white tank top, jeans. xxxxxx [ Carrying ] .44 Desert Eagle, Cigarette Pack, Lighter


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Max merely surveyed the bar as the power turned back on and more bar patrons entered. Then Shawn took and shook his hand. Max nodded and watched him walk off. "Payroll". Sounds nice to hear. With that and his trading, he now had two incomes. He turned his head back to the counter where he left the whiskey bottle. This day keeps getting better. Well...not literally with the Raiders messing things up. He took more shots until satisfied, then left the rest to Daniel.

He left the counter and made his exit from the bar. He made his way to his "humbly abode". His "little house on the prairie". It wasn't much to look at, but he can't complain. Even if he could he wouldn't. He was content with it. It's not like the Wasteland dabbles in the art of property value. As long as he can stash his equipment, set up shop, sleep and not be bothered, then hey he can call it home. He lit another cigarette and took off his buttoned shirt and jeans. He opened a chest and pulled out his reinforced leather armor. This town took him in when they didn't have to. Gave him this "humbly abode" and let him set up shop. Decent enough sized town that can defend itself unlike the unlucky smaller ones that were taken over.he could've ended up somewhere way worse. Permanent home or not it was a place to lay his head with a roof over it. The least he could do was protect it from piss-n-s**t smelling raiders.

He then caught a glimpse of his father's ranger helmet in the corner of the chest. The same helmet Max himself wore during his tenure. Ah the memories it brought back as he looked into its shaded eyes. It was the one thing he kept from his ranger/NCR days...

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