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"A trip to Rivet City, eh...?" He grumbled, rubbing his jaw. The thought of something to do was nearly appealing enough. After all; it wasn't as if anything extremely exciting happened in Megaton. And as for payment? Well, maybe helping a woman with her shopping couldn't be too bad, especially with such a fine one at that.

Tommy grinned excitedly, "Sure lady, we can talk pay when we get there. I got a feeling you're not out to ******** me over, and I'm sure we'll talk pay somewhere along the way" He put his cap on his whiskey and tucked it away, but spit his cigarette over the rail into the water below and proceeded to light up another, "When do ya' wanna' move... ehh... what's your name?"

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(( Yeah. I kind of dig the idea of your characters Black Widow Perk; it would likely pull the wool over my characters eyes 3nodding ))

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The arid wasteland was visible through the ancient cracked glass windows of a once-proud Hospital. The building had, at one time, been a place of healing and mercy, it had since been corrupted and twisted into something vastly different. The only clue hinting at its benign origins were the magnificent red cross hanging off the exterior, and the massive amount of medical supplies hoarded within. The bodies of seven Super mutants lay bleeding on the ground, each had fallen prey to a combination of mines, their own traps, and Mason's rifle. The foul stench of sweat and excrement pounded his head like a sledgehammer. Jim shook his head to clear the powerful odor and stepped gently over the bodies. One continued to twitch and air rattled from its lungs. He looked down at the large, man-shaped creature and felt a momentary pang of regret. A hole the size of a bottle-cap sat dead-center in the mutant's neck, with thick red blood oozing from the wound, and a slowly expanding puddle surrounding the head in a grisly halo. The Mutant's eyes were wide with fear, or perhaps shock, and it sputtered out its final breath. Jim's round had severed the brute's spinal column, which was impressive considering his chosen weapon. The .32 hunting rifle didn't have the most stopping power in the world, but ammunition and repair parts were readily available, and it seemed that every Super Mutant and half-assed raider in the wastes had one. He placed a hand on his heart in a vain attempt to catch his breath and slow his heart-rate. The last thing anyone needed in these damned ruins was a heart-attack. He scanned the hallway and leaned against the aging drywall. He had come to these ruins in search of both medical supplies, which were more valuable than most everything else here in the wasteland, and medical texts. His scavenging had been partially successful, and he now had a rucksack filled with everything from bandages to stimpacks to several rare bottles of actual morphine. Med-X was a cheap knock-off that had been perfected before the war, and apparently it had beat out all of the competition. Regardless, there were people who would kill to get their hands on morphine. The doctors over in Rivet City or the BoS were just a few possibilities. He'd most likely pawn it to the BoS cheap, he owed them his life several times over, and he wasn't about to stiff out on a debt. As for the stimpacks, well any idiot with enough brains to know which end to hold could use them. But it took a skilled doctor to actually use them effectively, not to mention that it never hurt to have a large collection, just in-case.

That was when he noticed the dull throb in his side. Mason grunted as he collapsed against the wall, dragging a long-red streak down with his body. He looked down and instinctively clapped a hand over the hole in his side in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He wheezed as the endorphins in his system cycled through and the pain hit him. His own blood oozed onto the tiled floor and mixed with that of the Super Mutant's. He grimaced and dropped his rifle, acknowledging his momentary defenselessness, and reached into his satchel. He pulled out a syrette of Med-X and a stimpack. Mason clenched his jaw and injected the syrette. The pain-killer went to work almost immediately, numbing the stabbing pain in his side. He exhaled slowly and pushed the injector-needle for the stimpack into his skin. He felt the needle scrap against a rib and pulled back slightly. With a wheeze of pain he squeezed the plunger and poured the restorative agent into his system. Despite the Med-X in his system already he felt a surge of pain as the bio-restorative solution coursing through his veins knitted together broken tissues in a rapid-fire assault on the damaged areas. Jim watched the spectacle as the flesh knitted itself back together again, omitting the need for stitches. The entrance and exit wounds sealed first, with the interior damage knitting together quickly thereafter. The Lil' Pip 3000 miniaturized PipBoy wrapped around his left wrist chirped and the medical display activated. His "health level" was listed as full. He didn't know who thought that a "health bar" design was proper for medical devices, but he appreciated the gesture. The ability to immediately check his vitals was invaluable to someone in his chosen profession. The Lil' Pip 3000 was perhaps one of the most advanced pieces of technology ever created before the bombs fell. It used integrated circuits to achieve all the functionality of its larger cousin, the PipBoy 2000 without the bulk. In fact, Its total size was again halved by its flip-up screen. Of course, the sophisticated technology required to manufacture, let alone repair such devices was either too expensive or too unpopular for the general public, and the design wasn't commercially successful. Eventually the full-sized PipBoy 3000 arm-mounted interface was unveiled. Its similarity in aesthetics to the older, hand-held PipBoy 2000 made it more commercially viable. Of course, when the bombs fell none of that mattered. The members of Vault 58's medical staff received Lil' Pip 3000s because of their non-invasive size, which was important to anyone preforming surgery or any other complex operation.

He closed the display and shrugged off some of the pain. Jim rubbed the raw skin and breathed deeply for several minutes before climbing to his feet again. He picked up his rifle and gingerly stepped through the pile of bodies. Mason moved to the stairs and inched down to the ground-floor, all the while trying to remain as quiet as possible. His recent encounter with the Super Mutants was evidence enough that he was neither alone nor in any position to fend off an entire group of armed mutants. His survival had only been a matter of blind luck and superior intelligence. The mutants were only barely smarter than an infant it seemed. After picking his way through the dilapidated hospital Mason emerged from the shabby building and stepped onto the cracked pavement of downtown D.C. Waves of heat rolled off of the ancient asphalt streets and concrete sidewalks. He gingerly followed a path through several streets and climbed over many piles of rubble. Some as large as the buildings around him. His preferred method of travelling around D.C. wasn't proscribed in the Wasteland Survival Guide OR by any sane person. Everyone else was adamant about following the metro tunnels. Jim just couldn't handle being underground in the dark, surrounded by crazy flesh-starved zombies, and so he had opted to travel over the street-barring rubble and through collapsed buildings instead. Did that make him insane? Probably. But normal people were just too damned boring. The clatter of stones signalled his descent from the top of a pile of twisted metal, cracked concrete, and jutting rebar. He climbed, hopped, and slid down to the soft dirt and looked out at the remnants of the Potomac. In the distance, the Jefferson Memorial spewed thousands of gallons of fresh water into what remained of the river. The sound generated by the display was similar to the broken fire hydrants in Baltimore, only multiplied tenfold. Brotherhood of Steel knights stood guard and Rivet City security personnel moved like ants back and forth, safeguarding the caravans. Mason walked to the edge of the sidewalk and peered into the clear-blue tinted water. He crouched and placed a hand in the cool liquid. Unlike the other water in the Capitol Wasteland which was warm to the touch because of its radioactive nature, this was pleasantly cool and refreshing. He stood and shook the water off of his hand. Mason turned south, towards the degraded aircraft carrier that had become Rivet City. He would start there. Cindy Cantelli could always use the extra merchandise, and Doctor Preston never objected when it came to medicine.

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Kale didn't seem to care what Tommy said. He was trash. Trash didn't deserve to get acknowledged. What made him turn his head was the pale beauty. Damn she looked good. The slaver tossed away his cigarette and slid in front of Tommy. "I'll do it. Won't cost ya any caps, but I require a favor in return." he said with a grin. He looked at her feet then moved his head to look up at her body, then face. Damn... "Tell ya what. Why don't I buy ya a drink. Me n ol Gobby are good friends." he said with a small smirk on his face. She seemed like a good companion. Maybe for a couple of caps she'd help him out in Springvalve. Two heads were better than one. She seemed like slaver material. Though she may need a good bribin. Or gettin' mezzed. Either way he'd get his help. He always got what he wanted. Besides, he had been to Rivet City before. His good pal Sister resided there to ambush runaway slaves. The look on their face when they were ensnared was pricless. "I actually got a friend in Rivet City. Its easy to get there." he stated blandly and twisted the bottle cap off of his whiskey. "Care for some?"

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"Yeah, and I'm sure moving with assholes like you is a real blast..." Tommy grumbled loudly, turning his body and leaning over the railing once more. He tried not to make a big deal out of the guy trying to swoop in on his latest catch, but playing it cool might be the safest way to go... not with him, but her. He had a real hankering to punch the stranger square in the mouth, but resisted. After all; it wasn't like he was a Raider anymore. He had to attain at least some mode of public decency.

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As the misshapen city walls of Megaton materialized over the horizon, Sven finally felt all his exhaustion hit him at once. The lack of hydration in his system coupled with both the weight of his equipment and of the woman on his back caused the mercenary to fall hard on his right knee and clench hid teeth together as he strained to pull himself back upright. He figured it was a good workout, but he was in peak physical condition anyway and knew that he couldn't make the situation seem better than it actually was. However, the woman did owe him her life, and maybe he could use that life debt to his aid, provided she wouldn't run away the minute she felt healthy enough.

"Looks like you're coming with me missy."

Sven had forgotten how loud Megaton was when the gates opened. He had spent a few long weeks out in the wastes and in smaller settlements and they were much quieter than the city, although usually dingier and looking a little worse for the wear. Then again, everything in the Capitol Wasteland looked like s**t.

Moriarty's was the watering hole of the town. Everyone who so much as dropped by to say hello stopped in at the bar and had a drink or two, or four, or the bottle...
Sven found it difficult to enter the bar with the girl slung around his shoulders as her head would continuously hit the doorframe when he tried to slip inside. Instead he opted to go in himself and then drag her in after, carrying her with one arm over his own broad shoulders like a wounded soldier being carried to safety.

"Got a room under the name of 'Bill Stover'. Me and the wife will just be on our way then, eh?" He didn't waste any time sticking around talking to the ghoul Gob and grinned as he made his way up the steps, patting the unconscious "Red" when he referred to her as his wife.

The room was small and dirty, much like the others, although this one didn't carry the stench of Nova and sheets smelling of rancid food and sweat. Sven placed the woman on single bed in the room and took a seat across from her while he rubbed his shoulders gingerly. "Wake up buttercup. No, seriously, wake up now."

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"If you haven't noticed, e'eryone's an asrsehole." Amphis said with a chuckle. AMphis was really starting to like this guy, and was about to answer about when she wanted to leave, but the the slaver spoke up. Amphis found the slaver’s offer to be pretty enticing. Won’t cost me any caps? she thought excitedly, And only a favor? Amphis had a pretty good idea of what Kale wanted, after all, she was a pretty woman... But something about the way he talked suggested something else. Maybe he needed help as well? No matter what this favor was, it would probably be something exciting. “Why not? Sounds like a good idea. I’m pretty thirsty anyway. Maybe if you tell me about this favor over a drink, I just might say yes.” she said with a smirk. “In fact, why don’t we get a room? It’ll be quieter there.” she suggested, and latched herself onto his arm. Tugging gently, she wanted to lead him back inside the tavern. Before leaving to go inside, she turned to Tommy and asked him in as well. "You should come too. I haven't decided who I want taking me Rivet City yet." she said, laughing.

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(( Going to work soon, just so you guys know

EDIT: Added some more stuff onto the end of this post.))

Tommy grunted and folded his arms, spitting over the rail. Competing over taking her to Rivet City wasn't on his top priorities; he really just wanted to get some killing done, make caps, or get out of Megaton. Making up his mind, he sighs inwardly, then cracks open his mouth to form a twisted grin, walking towards the door ahead of them, "Sure thing, babe, whatever you want" He kicks open the door, roaring loudly to Gob, "Get us some booze, Gobby my boy!" Truth be told, he was more interested in pissing off Kale than flirting with Amphis, and the more booze the better for any occasion.

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(( Yeah, I’ve got to get moving. You guys could move on without me or just pretend I’m there or something. Be back in a few hours. Hopefully. ))

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So the pale woman wanted him and the twerp to all get a room together. Kale had always been a bit lecherous. Must've gotten it from his whore of a mother... Still a guy and a girl in bed sounded pretty damn awesome. He'd done stuff way kinkier. Though he didn't mind sharing a bed. Long as it was big engough. Guy or girl...didn't matter much. They all pleased his desires. He was their master, they were all his slaves. "All three of us? Maybe next time bud. But me and the lady gotta work some plans out." he said pulling her lightly to Gob. Tommy seemed like a seven and a half. He could do so much better. Amphis however was a perfect ten...maybe a 9.9. "Gobby...I got a room. Goes under the name of Bill Stover." The ghou bartenderl tossed him a key. Kale released Amphis and stumbled into the room. The slaver poked his head and saw another sitting. "Is this occupied?" he asked Sven. Was he Bill Stover? The person who had promised him everything? If so, he had a lot to ask him.

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(( Alright. Been awhile. So forgive me if my post is a little off, or weird, or breaking some kind of rule. I'm not 100% certain on what's going on. ))

Shannon's eyelids peeked open for a moment at the sound of Sven's voice and then closed again. It was taking her a second to recover enough energy to keep her eyes open and figure out where she was. For the moment, she figured that she was safe in the company of Sven. Yawning, Shannon found the will to open her eyes and stare across at the man.

"Where are we...?" She asked lazily, her hand going up to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes as she looked around the room. Shannon looked tired and exhausted from her long travels. Her pretty green eyes were bloodshot from the lack of real sleep, and her face was now clearly visible; She had a few bruises as well as cuts and scratches. The gash on her cheek was scabbing over, and she just looked like a real mess of a woman. Shannon pulled a cylindrical clasp out of her hair and allowed her now-dirty, curly red hair to fall freely to her shoulders, a grimace on her face as she felt a lump on the back of her head. She was half-inclined to ask how it had got there, but decided she wasn't sure she wanted to know that.

Then, just as Shannon was opening her mouth to speak something to Sven, someone opened the door and peeked their head in. Surprised, she turned her head to see who it was.

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"Relax babe." Sven said, tossing her a grin and turning to face the newcomer and his partner. "Uh, no I'm waiting for Bill Stover. Are you him...?"

Odd. The whole situation made him feel a little uneasy, and what he was asked to do on the holotape felt a little immoral but he had never had problems with that before. You couldn't always be the good guy out in the wastes, no, but by the looks of it the newcomer probably wasn't the nicest man either. He could tell by the the way he carried himself, what he wore, and what he could overhear from downstairs.

He turned in his chair to face Shannon, sitting backwards now with his arm's across the top of the chair and his chin resting on them. "Got a message uh..told me to wait here for some guy named Bill Stover. I figured you owed me your life so I don't know...guessed you wouldn't complain about coming along, eh?"

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Shannon shrugged and propped herself up on an elbow, "Not like I have a choice, punk."

She brushed her hair back behind her ear and sighed as she checked to ensure her helmet was still fastened to her belt. Satisfied, she did a quick check of her weapons and noted that she was missing one sidearm. A little confused, she looked up at Sven, her brow furrowed as she tried to determine whether or not her had taken one of her weapons. She figured he might've, as that would be the only place it could have gone; Unless she left it out in the wastes, in which case... she would be mighty angry with herself, and Sven, for not retrieving. Owe you my life? Where's that damn N99, punk... She decided she would ask about it later.

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Kale shook his head. He took out the holotape that had somehow managed to find its way into his pocket. The slaver set the tape on a desk and said "Damn, you guys got one too? Wonder if yer the reinforcements." he stated blandly and took a seat on a chair. "Your not Bill Stover? Never herd of this guy..." Kale said and tapped his fingers on the table next to the holotape. The loud banter of the various creeps in Moriarty could be herd just outside the door. This was quite peculiar. Had someone stalked him on his way to Megaton? He didn't sense himself being followed. "So what the ******** do we do now? Sit 'round and drink? Introduce each other?" Whatd this Bill Stover guy want? A huge orgy? It seemed farfetched, but it would be pretty sweet.

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Natalia Had been making her way down across the waste with all possible haste. She'd heard the news from GNR itself, but she still didn't believe it "Roy Philips...You..." She trembled as she spoke, with helpless, seething rage. She had told the Lone Wanderer from 101 personally that she would give the ghouls a chance, as long as they had the caps. But this, she couldn't believe it, she wouldn't till she saw it with her own two eyes. She had given those...those zombies the benefit of the doubt, she believed Roy Philips when he said that they could co-exist. Everyone who hadn't been disgusted by the idea had left, and the ghouls had brought with them more caps and stories than ever before. The place seemed, more alive and all of her neighbors seemed so happy. And yet, and yet that dirty zombie wasn't satisfied with that.

"...Killed every living human to get it..." Her neighbors, the only people in the waste who looked on her beauty with optimism, who laughed with her when she talked of her scandalous misadventures in the wastes. It was hard to believe that all of that was gone. As she continued toward Tenpenny Tower, she didn't even bother avoiding the raiders and Supermutants, pumping herself with stimpack after stimpack as she went toe to toe with every creature in the wastes that got in her way, eschewing sleep for buffout and jet to keep herself going. Her growing chem dependency hardly mattered, she had the means to treat it if she could get back to her apartment. A cocktail of drugs and a burning desire for vengeance fueling her, raging behind ruby colored eyes. Despite her slight degree of ire at having to wear the biometrically sealed pip-boy, she'd never been happier for her Vault-Tec Assisted Target System.

Flaxen's combat prowess exceeded the ex-vault dweller's expectations, Hanging back and taking carefully placed shots, she was always fresh for the next combat session. Her efficiency in lethal combat, combined with her ability as a pack mule was making her perhaps the most valuable tool in her current arsenal, discounting her custom-job energy weapons of course.

Natalia was about halfway to Tenpenny tower when she noticed a bulge in one one her packs, an unfamiliar weight and shape, one she knew wasn't there the night before. Pulling out the the unmarked holotape, and plugging into her Pip boy to play, a smile played across her lips, and thoughts of ghoul genocide were temporarily pushed to back of her mind, the smile turning into a grin as she played all the way through it. She even gave it a second listen, just to be sure she was hearing it right. When she had spoken to Burke before, she had been sorely let down in discovering how, what was the word she was looking for...minuscule in influence Alistair Tenpenny and his weak organization was. They could not even handle a small armed conflict against Roy Philips and his feral pets on their own. It was rather pathetic really, and now they were gone. They lacked soldiers ready and willing to fight and die for their cause. The only factions that really had both organization and soldiers were the Talon Company, which lacked a central goal and was embroiled in a conflict with the Supermutants, the Brotherhood, who were engaged with the Enclave and the Supermutants, Rivet City, who was mainly focused on the security of their own battleship home, and the slavers, who were loosly held together by Eulogy, but their loyalty was limited by the supply of caps flowing in, if the slaves stopped going wherever they were headed, that would cripple the whole operation.

This was different, the level of technology needed to even make a recording like this with a voice scrambler meant that whomever got this to her was quite tech savvy, possibly...Naw, that would be too good to be true. Besides with the number of their soldiers she'd picked off, they were probably irate with her, either way, she knew where Dukov's place was, and she was near enough to megaton that she could resupply there and drop her chem dependency. "Flaxen, we've a potential job, lets get a move on to Megaton. Lets hope Roy Philips lives it up long enough for us to kill him ourselves." The contracted slave nodded, and shouldered her pack and setting her brow, looking to the fortress of a scrap pile city on the hill to the east.
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