Post Nuclear Fallout x3

[[Q]]

Original thread deleted in Barton Town; huge success. Did it once more in this guild, another success. Trying it one more time because the both of us have nothing better to do. But since Tsurai is such a douchebag, I'm switching up my character. To Q. Because yes, I am that lame.

----------

It had been months after the bombings had happened, and here in Vault 335 it had been a gruelling nightmare. Those who had reached the shelters in time were lucky, and were here. But int his vault, it was mostly men. This vault had been in the middle of a nowheresville, next to a pub. Oh, how quaint.

The Great War was something that seemed to come out of nowhere. It was partly due to the French, but it would be a lie to say other countries weren't dealt in. Quatre Bornes, if he were not different enough, was an african french. He had come to this country before the war had become a distant thought in the normal man's mind, and by the time he had reached the vault with these others, the accent that would give him away had left. The only remnants of his heritage was his a book written in french, which for the better half of a year no one had noticed as he read it to pass time, and his language, should he choose to speak it to himself. He never did.

Bornes had dropped the more french sounding part of his name and preferred to simply called the american version of Bornes, pronounced "Born," to avoid more suspicion than he already had.
Unlike most of the vault residents who were unclothed, Bornes preferred his entire body to be covered. He had long sleeves and long pants. The shirt had a maroon midsection with black sleeves, and all his other accessories were black. His eyes were a bright green, but they were always covered by sunglasses, so no one knew what he was looking at.

Bornes had facial tattooes near the end of his chin, two "Whiskers" on each side, but his two most defining features were his premature grey hair and his dark grey dog tail, resembling that of a husky's or saluki's.
His hair was long, and parted to the side so it covered an eye. It was not to make a fashion statement, but rather to cover a diagonal scar running over the bridge of his nose. His tail only curled slightly, but reached to about his knees in length. And the french book he most often liked to preoccupy himself with? The most notable historical french battles, and how they could've been improved through the use of better strategists.

Bornes held himself like ex-military, and while the other men picked on him now and then, it was often quickly resolved. Almost a year had gone by now, and supplies of food and water were becoming sparse. More and more resent grew toward Bornes- he was different. He was quiet. He was suspicious. He shouldn't have been eating their food, drinking their water.

Today was the day someone finally noticed his book was in a foreign language, and another fight began. A part of Bornes wondered why it had taken so long for the subject to come up, but it didn't matter. He was being pinned now for the reason the whole war began. Something about super soldiers and that's why he had a dog tail and hid his eyes. Bornes would've laughed, but he was sure that would've made his situation all the more worse. The imagination and paranoia of some of these men was ridiculous.

Bornes stood from his place on the floor. At six feet tall he was not much of a menace, but he was built well and held himself proudly. He tried to remain as calm as possible.
"You think this book is training me to deal with you all? Telling me how to mess with your brains and kill you and eat you-- all for myself? For the french?"

Bornes turned to Isiah. The man seemed laid back. He normally simply read books as well, and his tattoos had proved interesting to look at. Bornes had guessed he was a part of something more before this war. Perhaps a gang of somesort. Regardless if the suspicions were true, Isiah had more muscle than Bornes could possibly hope for, although time and lack of sustanence had thinned him down.

"Isiah; you are unlike the others," he said. "Do you think this book is a work of evil? Do you believe I am only here to kill these men?"
His face was toward Isiah, but his eyes, behind dark sunglasses, kept their spy on the man who still felt threatened. Bornes wanted to avoid a fight. Isiah had the muscularture to intimidate moreso than Bornes had.
Bornes and Isiah were not friends. They hardly even spoke to eachother. But Bornes hoped the irishman would stand in and dissipate the argument.

While Bornes could fight, he didn't like doing so. His moves were graceful and quick. He could not street fight. When he fought someone and won, the loser was often more angry than before the fight had begun. Bornes had never been hit before. And often, the men who chose to challenge him never got past one strike. It would've been an embarrassment if Bornes took the offensive now; and he felt that if he did fight, it would be more than one of them at a time. More men had growing interest in this match. Morale was low and Bornes was worth less than a minority. He kne he wouldn't be able to stay here much longer, and he didn't want to test himself against multiple enemies.

Isiah seemed to be a smart man. Bornes had hoped Isiah would see what Bornes saw, and stand up for the tailed frenchman. Bornes didn't know if Isiah trusted him, but he did have Isiah pegged as someone who at least knew how to smartly avoid a quarrel.  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah's hair stood up on the back of his neck as he felt resentment building- in an animal way, he knew the fight was coming before it began, but the rest of his conscious had yet to catch up with it. It was a part of his psyche that had been dead for a long time. His green eyes darted up to watch the hybrid get backed into a corner, and he did feel.. sympathetic. More importantly, once that boy was gone, he was next.

He stood from his place against the wall, throwing his cheap romance novel down, rolling his head on his neck. He pulled off his jacket- full view of the tatts usually sent out a clearer message than with the camo on. He rose his hands up, palms forward. "Easy," he offered in low baritone before predictably stepping between Bornes and the advancing horde. "No reason to waste energy on pointless violence." His words were curt and poignant, making it clear he would throw his muscle into the ring if he had to. He turned his head halfway to give Bornes a heated look over his shoulder, brow furrowed downward. Why the hell did you get yourself into such trouble...  

[[Q]]

The man who had started all this had short cropped brown hair. He was short, had blue eyes and blank dog tags around his neck with no shirt on. He was in perhaps his late twenties, early thirties, but he looked much older. He didn't look like he had much muscle, but he was big boned.

Bornes took a step back, to allow Isiah to take over the negotiation. Bornes did not talk much, and even if he had, nothing would have made a difference. He was not 'of their kind'.

"Why are you so incessant that there's no fight, huh?" the instigator insisted, his shirtless chest full of sweat. "You a Frog, too? You hiding a tail in those huge pants of yours?!"
The man, who was a DuPloy, talked big but it was clear his bark was worse than his bite.

Bornes took another step back, surveying the onlookers. They looked like a swatch of vultures waiting to come in for the kill, also eerily silent. Quatre's back remained straight, his fat book in his darkskinned hand. Behind his green eyes went to Isiah. Fists were going to sly soon enough. The hybrid wondered if he should try to say something to clear the air.

He decided it against it.  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah cracked his neck, following suit with his knuckles. His stance changed visibly- his back straightened, shoulders back, fists half clenched and relaxed at his sides, far from his usual relaxed, somewhat hunched figure. He ran his tongue over his teeth- two steps closed the distance between him and the southerner, towering over the shorter man, his arms tense and ready to block anything he'd throw out.

"Why don't you just sit your stupid a** down, you ******** hick," he hissed, spitting his words at a thousand degrees. "Before I break you into pieces. I don't want a fight between anybody, but if there's going to be one, it's going to be between me and you, and you are going to lose."  

[[Q]]

Bornes stood idly by as he watched the confrontation take place. The DuPloy grumbled a few choice words to himself, and sat down. It was clear he had not been happy about doing so. The onlookers whispered amongst themselves but eventually went quiet again.

Quatre Bornes would have asked himself why he would not purposefully act threatening had he been a younger man. But he knew why. As idle glares came his way, he calmly opened his book back up, thumbing to a specific page, and walking out of the room. It was probably better for there to be distance between him and the normal humans.

As he passed in from of Isiah, he made no mention of a thank you, and once he was outside the bunks, he sat down against the opposing wall and began to read again.

Come night time, he should probably leave here. But the hybrid wasn't too ecstatic about going outside. Would the air be safe to breathe? Would there be shelter? Food? He didn't like the idea, but the growing unspoken stress here was not a very welcoming choice.  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah watched the Duploy back up and sit down, eyes wide and intense, only relenting once he felt the threat was over and the crowd had dispersed. He took his first steps away tentatively, not turning until he was out of lunges reach. He turned at long last, picking up his book and jacket in a swoop, following the trail the lupine had left before tossing the book down hard on the cement floor right in front of his feet.

"You are some piece of work," he offered quickly, low in his throat. "Throwing my name out for your own benefit and then walking away." He paused, pulling his jacket back on arm by arm. "Don't you have something to say?"  

[[Q]]

Bornes flinched slightly at the book slamming on the floor near him. The hybrid only had two better-than-average traits. His hearing, and his sight. It was the hearing that did him in currently. He tried to act nonchalant, turning the page of his book, not even looking up as he replied.

"In fact, I do," He stated. "Thank you."

He frowned slightly, and after slight hesitation, closed his book, picked up Isiah's, and stood to face the irishman properly. "You are much more intimidating than I," he explained.
"I knew you could resolve the issue with little effort. So, I thank you."

Behind the sunglasses, Bornes' green eyes looked over the man's body, taking it all in, almost sizing him up. After a few seconds, he took Isiah's book from his right hand, offering it back to the other with his left.  

[Evil Disco]

He took the book slowly before bending at the knees to plop down onto his rump ungracefully, grunting as air rushed out of him. "It might have been just a little effort now.. But I don't know if I can afford to bunch myself in with you." He set his book down on his lap, shrugging. "Nothing against you personally.. But if people start to group us together, BOTH of us will be out in the radiation and not relatively safe in here."

Isiah was not well liked as it was. He managed to keep his name off the lips of those he was near but there was always talk. He had used his muscle and intimidation before to bully his way into food, water, cigarettes, bedspace, whatever commodity he needed at the time. All things were in short supply after the bomb.

But that wasn't on his mind in the quick aftermath of the almost-fight. He was looking out for his skin first, and secondly, for the lupine's. "I don't think you can much afford to bunch yourself with me either."  

[[Q]]

Bornes' tail swayed idly between his legs as he watched the irishman sit down.
"Are you insinuating something?" he questioned, wondering if Isiah thoguht Quatre too weak to defend himself should a confrontation occur. Just because Bornes didn't like fighting didn't mean his strength should be called into question. Perhaps his own strength were more preserved than the others', simplyf rom the sheer fact he wasn't entirely human.

Bornes washed the thought from his mind, smirking slightly.
"They've already grouped us together, Isiah. We were outcasts the second this vault's occupants realized the horn was not a drill."

He idly pushed his sunglasses up his face, even though they had not budged from the top of the bridge of his nose. "The thing to be worried about now is how long they will decide to be afraid of us before trying to snuff us out." He lowered his head to look at Isiah, although his glasses were too dark to see through. "Even if I did sacrifice myself, it would not be too long before you went too."

He straightened, forcing a fake, oversympathetic shrug. "That is, of course, unless I pegged you wrong and you are the leader type."
He looked down again, confident in his speech. Oh, that stupid history book had gotten to him. How methodic the solutions to the problems in its pages were.  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah took a long moment before deciding between taking offense to his last statement or leaving it. He rubbed along the back of his neck, eyes rolling shut, releasing breath, his shoulders sinking as he exhaled.

"Fine," he offered with a slow grumble. "Then it sounds like our options are kind of limited." He counted in his head- how long had it been?... ten. Ten months in the hole. "We can stay here, and meet certain death..."

He wrapped his hands around his ankles, crinkling up his BDUs as he did so. "Or we can venture out into the unknown. Fifty fifty chance out there."

He quirked an eyebrow upward. "I don't know what your plans are.. But there's strength in numbers, and if you're willing, then.. I say we face the odds rather than the horde."  

[[Q]]

Bornes shifted his weight idly, and hesitated before agreeing. "I like your ideas."

His free hand went into his black pants pocket, pulling out a rather crumpled looking, yet unopened box of benson and hedges. He tossed them on Isiah's lap. "If you steal the supplies we need, I could open up the hatch."

Bornes wasn't sure if that was Isiah's brand of choice- probably wasn't, knowing his kind. But he knew Isiah smoked and would take what he could get. "Leave a couple for me, will you?"

It was a blank statement as he walked toward the entrance of the vault, wondering exactly how tight the lock was.  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah caught the cigarettes and handled them delicately, as if they were made of delicate, antique ivory. He opened them up to count the cancer sticks on his fingertips, before tucking them into his BDU pockets with a shove. He didn't have a lighter, but he'd be damned if he didn't find one in his search for supplies.

He jumped to his feet, energized by the prospect of a first cigarette in what felt like centuries. Muscles and quick curt looks gathered him a duffel bag, jugs of water, canned food, a few cans of sterno, a lighter... among others. He left a wake of angry, shocked, and frightened people who began to re-organize their former mob. He jogged over to Bornes, at long last, bag over his shoulder. "So? Any luck?"  

[[Q]]

Quatre Bornes had left Isiah to do... Whatever the man would do to get the supplies, and had inspected the lock for a few minutes. It was comparable to one of the fixtures of a submarine, in that it turned open and closed.

He took a deep breath and reached his hands out to one of the many knobs on the edge of the circle outlining the handle, beginning to pull toward himself. The lock began to squeak. Bornes, as he grunted, winced at the sound.

As Isiah came over, Bornes put all his strength into the lock with a growl, a final, rusty screech reverberating through the vault as it was pushed open, and another screech while the hinges moved for the first time in the better half of a year. The frenchman had curled his lip and shouted out in pain at the sounds, but as they took place during the sounds that caused them, he would hope his weakness was not entirely visible to the others. Not that it mattered, since he was in the process of leaving.

When he was finished, he turned to Isiah, the door giving a few loud thuds on the metal at the other side as it opened wide.
Bornes lifted his left hand- with the book- and pointed out. "Be my guest," he offered.  

[Evil Disco]

Isiah gave him a strange look, wincing against bright white sunlight. He curled his lip up a little, glancing behind him to take one last look at the horrid little hovel they had been living in before venturing up the rusted iron ladder on his way out into the light.

He ignored the growing murmur of worry and thanks from the crowd beneath them, opening up his palm to help Bornes out if he decided he needed the help, readjusting the duffel bag over his thick shoulder.  

[[Q]]

As Bornes watched Isiah, the other's form mostly disappeared except for a reaching hand. Bornes tail whisked from one leg to the other uneasily, and he took a nervous sidestep before taking the offer Isiah gave and going outside.

Of course, once he got out there, even with the sunglasses, he was completely blinded, and saw nothing but white. He decided the smart thing to do would be to close his eyes, and did so, but didn't let go of Isiah's hand until almost a full thirty seconds had passed. He shoved his right hand into his pocket, his left clutching the book at his side. He was fidgety, but forced himself to remain still, presumably facing Isiah, waiting to hear the sound of the door closing before he decided to let slip that he would be completely blind whenever the sun was up.