#it really do be a load of Brahmin shit

[capcollector]

HIII!!! I saw your fallout oc reblog and bunny is super cool, so.. I have some questions!!! a lot of them actually

57. What is a sensation / texture they cannot stand?

65. Describe their living space. (How do they decorate it? Does it have running water and/or electricity? Etc.)

62. Do they have any weaknesses or struggle with any vices?

42. What is their favorite wasteland creature?

43. What is their favorite meal and drink?

32. What is their go-to weapon or weapon class?

28. What faction(s) do they despise?

29. What is their moral alignment / karma?

SORRY THEY ARE OUT OF ORDER I COPY-AND-PASTED MOST OF THEM EUGH.. also don't feel like you have to answer them all I picked out a lot.. OKAY TY 💥💥💥🗣🗣

FALLOUT OC ASKS

thank you! i’m genuinely so glad ppl like them😭 by all means pls feel free to ask me shit about them whenever. and for this i’ll answer for both of them :]

this got SO LONG……i have so much to say about them both so. lots of stuff under the cut

29. What is their moral alignment / karma?

honestly i’d say they’re both good but bunny does lean more towards neutral over time. leon strives to see the good in everything, will try to talk things out and only uses weapons as a last resort (but will never attack first). he’s killed people before and he absolutely hates it. it haunts him. when bunny first left the vault she tried to keep away from violence and also went the route of talking, and in her case was actually more successful bc her charisma is so much higher. but over time she’s come to believe that violence is just kinda necessary to survive in the wasteland. she’ll kill if it means protecting those she loves, protecting this new world she’s made for herself. she’s more selfish in her motivations than leon is.

28. What faction(s) do they despise?

kinda loaded question for both. leon obviously has his issues w the enclave while bunny similarly has her problems w the institute. and both have very obvious baggage w the brotherhood of steel. leon’s comes from a place of mourning in retrospect, coming to realize that he was a terrified kid who got caught up w them. he does not agree w them at all and he feels bad for having sided w them, and part of his reasons for his ultimate career path was to try to make up for his own transgressions in his own mind? he cares if he is guilty. it’s complicated. bunny looks at the brotherhood and just sees all of nate’s friends pre-war. she knows exactly how they operate and think and act and she thinks they’re pathetic. her disdain for them is a lot more outward than leon’s is. but in her case it’s also very much “they aren’t personally bothering me/my family and i don’t want an all-out war w them so i’ll leave them be.” which is what leads to some rising tensions post-game but. i wanna develop that into an actual plotline lol

leon’s time in the west was likely pre-fnv so he doesn’t have too strong an opinion on the NCR but caesar’s legion horrifies him.

32. What is their go-to weapon or weapon class?

bunny’s grown really fond of rifles and shotguns. leon’s weapons of choice are energy weapons. neither of them are big guns or melee ppl; not exactly the most physically strong so anything that gives either distance or packs a huge punch is preferred.

42. What is their favorite wasteland creature?

bunny has a certain appreciation for radstags. she just remembers seeing one in the midst of everything, calmly grazing in the woods, blanketed in the glow of the sun in the cool autumn air and for the first time in a long time she felt a sense of relief, no matter how melancholic. seeing something so tranquil at the end of the world just made her believe that some day that could be her.

do aliens count. bc that’s definitely leon’s. big believer in all that, swears he’s met aliens (tho that may have just been a fever dream). appreciates brahmin bc he travels so much. centaurs are on his mind a lot too. not gonna say they’re a “favorite” bc they ultimately just make him sad but they definitely occupy a permanent place in his mind.

43. What is their favorite meal and drink?

oh i know there’s plenty of pre-war food bunny misses. i think she often misses familiar homecooked meals that she knows she’ll never eat again. she’s a very present and future-oriented person but she can’t deny that she does mourn so much from her past, food included. now tho? she likes mirelurk meat. she was also a model in an old fancy lads snack cakes ad so she does find it funny they’re still around. she’s always enjoyed those. as far as drinks go she’ll drink whatever. likes nuka cola (and was also a nukagirl in some ad campaigns). loves a nice bottle of wine or vodka. and still remembers a lot of fun party tricks from back in the day too! forever a party girl.

leon’s much less of a party person than bunny is but he’ll have a drink or two if the occasion allows. likes wine or beer in particular. thinks nuka cola is too sweet. the sugar content of it and several other items just concerns him more than anything else, but he’s generally not a huge sweet tooth. if he can ever get his hands on any he does love fruit tho. likes potato crisps. i always kinda imagined he didn’t really eat meat growing up in the vault but that had to change when he left bc he was gonna starve otherwise.

57. What is a sensation / texture they cannot stand?

bunny cannot STAND power armor. it makes her feel immobile and like she has no control over her body. doesn’t like the confinement. overbearing. it’s just too much for her.

leon’s been roughing it in the wasteland for the last 10+ years so he’s kinda learned to get used to a lot of shit but he one thing that still makes his skin crawl is the sound of certain insects. wings buzzing, appendages rubbing together, whatever. not a fan.

62. Do they have any weaknesses or struggle with any vices?

another loaded question…..

bunny does occasionally use chems but keeps it very secretive. i’ve mentioned it before but nuka world was literally gonna be her and hancock’s post-game bender while riding faulty amusement park rides before they discovered. well. whatever the hell’s happening over there. i think sometimes her desire to still do something thrill-seeking and free and “i’ll do it myself” attitude can come back to bite her. she gets stir crazy easily. it’s why she struggled so much w being a housewife and why she saw waking up 200+ years later as a real chance to start over. and she’s also someone who lies often and very well. she’s been doing it since before the war. putting on masks and being who ppl want her to be. her fierce protectiveness of those she loves and her new life does mean tho that she’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep it safe, so if she believes she has to kill someone to do it, she’ll do it. but this also means like. she likely won’t directly challenge someone if they aren’t actively targeting her/her loved ones.

i think leon has plenty of internal struggles. a lot of his tenets get challenged over the years as he experiences so much and has to learn to deal w his own grief. on particularly difficult occasions he will smoke sometimes, but it’s not often. he worries if maybe he’s just running from his problems, if he’ll never absolve himself of the shame he feels. he has bouts of severe imposter syndrome. he just wants to do good, even in the face of the wasteland telling him it’s pointless.

65. Describe their living space. (How do they decorate it? Does it have running water and/or electricity? Etc.)

leon’s is always changing! he tends to look for abandoned houses to take shelter in rather than trying to build a tent/be outdoors. he’s considered setting up a permanent practice somewhere but he just can’t bring himself to do it yet. he really does just love to travel that much.

for bunny, sanctuary hills and the red rocket are connected. the red rocket acts more or less like a checkpoint/toll booth/etc. for sanctuary hills, so she considers both her home. the red rocket is where most of her companions stay and they have lodging there that’s been built. as well as a rooftop bar/lounge. sanctuary hills is continually growing, and she lives in her old house still. sanctuary hills has a farm, shops, beds for rent (for travelers), a big treehouse, even a school. she really goes all-in on the community planning and building post-game. it’s very important to her. it’s an ugly world out there but we can make it beautiful. she saw coming out of that vault as a blessing in disguise. a chance at a new life for herself. and she’s not gonna waste it.

[lowqualitygarbage]

sorry about the post, but I do have a question, do any of city or surrounding factions have tanks or armored cars?

Nah, it wasn't you, dude. I just spent way too long in fan groups fighting with bros doing bad faith arguments so The Lore discourse gets my fight or flight going. Sorry if my response was bitchy.

For ground vehicles, in Pentagram city in districts where the Overlords bother with infrastructure, the roads are passable enough that carts/rickshaws/etc. are common for people getting around. Bicycles are amusingly popular in Cannibal Town, which has properly paved walkways, and would probably have a trolley if it were big enough that you couldn't easily travel on foot.

Vox loves showing off, and the Vees want to encourage as many people into their territory as possible, so they do have a monorail/tram that goes around their district, and he bugs his neighbors to let him build lines through their districts as well. The roads and sidewalks in their district are absolutely shit though and you could lose a Brahmin in some of those potholes.

Thinking about it, Zeezi would absolutely have some sort of Mad Max truck with big treads for offroading, just for the fun of it. Not practical or central to her operations, but seeing a restored semi in neon paint and deatchclaw skulls loaded up with Raiders screaming towards you would ruin anyone's day.

The Army of the Righteous, true to their Enclave-esque role, do have some tanks and land vehicles, which mostly go between their bases. The Wasteland's terrain can make it really inefficient to use them as a main source of transportation, and vertibirds are their preferred mode of transportation for Exterminations.

So in my AU, there are functioning land vehicles, but they're not really as common as pre-war because few roadways are restored, and more infrastructure, especially in the city, is focused on foot traffic.

[pregnantsecondo]

Me: *leaves after talking to Caesar for the first time*

Arcade:

[ground-zero-idiocies]

How would companions react to Bad Habits by Ed Sheeran?

 So I just heard this song for the first time yesterday so now sounds lik a good time to answer this.

Fallout 4 Companions React to 'Bad Habits' by Ed Sheeran

Is it beach day? It's beach day. Across the picnic blanket from the mutfruit sandwiches lies a small ham radio, playing Diamond City Radio and slowly leaking out it's 'old gold' tunes. However, after a short ad from CHOICE CHOPS!, a new song starts playing. The artist is unknown to all, but the song plays. 

Cait: “What the...where is this guy from? His accent makes me wanna puke. Really, who thought people from that place deserve rights or the ability to make music or a microphone? I didn’t think I liked the Ink Spots all too much but I would listen to that forever instead of hearing that ever again.”

Curie: “Zis song is very new! I do not believe that this song ‘as ever been played before on this radio station! I do so wonder how Mr. Travis obtained a new record zis long after the war, but I commend him for doing so.”

Codsworth: “Well mum, this song is certainly a ‘blast from the past’, now isn’t it? The last time I heard this song, GNN was still on the air, haha! I do so wonder if Mr. Sheeran is still alive today. Say, with ghouls and super mutants it may be possible! Ah, what a strange world we live in.”

Danse: “This song belongs to a genre of music that I certainly despise. I’ve said it before but I much prefer country and bluegrass music. It really tickles my balls makes me feel like a man. This sounds like what Proctor Taegan listens to when he breaks up with his monthly boy toy.”

Deacon: “NO WAY! I actually met this guy a couple years ago. When I traveled to England. He’s a robobrain now! Can’t sing, but he’s certainly an interesting guy. I should really talk more about England. Did you guys know that they have three-headed Brahmin over there? Yeah! They call them ‘cows’. Weird stuff.”

Hancock: “What’s this shit on the radio? If you’re gonna play something that doesn’t sound like it was recorded at the end of a tunnel, play something by my girl Magnolia. Now she can sing, without having to load the sound into a terminal and monkey with the audio. I should start my own radio station for her. It would make lots of caps.”

Gage: “I’m gonna get shit for sayin’ this, but that song was better than anything RedEye ever does. And I like RedEye! Man, it’s all stuck in my head now. Bad habits lead to this and that...”

Longfellow: “This reminds me of a song I heard once. ‘There’s no one as Irish as Barrack Obama’. I think Obama was the president before they unfroze Walt Disney’s head and elected him. Those were strange times. Anyway the song is ok, I guess.”

MacCready: “Dang, Lucy would’ve loved that song. It’s just so catchy, y’know? I’m gonna be singing that for the next ten years straight. Ooo, here’s an idea, Gage and I could record our own version! If he promised not to kill me and everything.”

Nick Valentine: “And this is why they play ‘old gold’ instead of this 21st century junk. Why couldn’t Travis have found Mambo Italiano or She Blinded Me With Science? At least that one’s relevant. This song is just so off-putting. I’m hoping he doesn’t make it a regular listen.”

Piper: “Official notice: local DJ Travis Miles plays mediocre, 4/10 song on the radio. No one’s heard this song in 200 years, yet he found it anyway. Polls show that most people don’t want to hear it again. This concludes the official notice.”

Preston: “This song is so upbeat and catchy! What an amazing song! I’m gonna make this the Minutemen’s anthem. Why can’t Travis play more of this guy? It’s so good. This song is perfect. Thank you Travis and thank you God, because only he could make something so incredible.”

Strong: “Strong could not hear the song. DJ Travis needs to make song louder. Strong thinks that Super Mutants sing better than puny humans. Strong will sing a song soon, and everyone will want to be friends with Strong.”

X6-88: “Damn it. Father’s mixtape got leaked. This is a code red, activate the silos. We gotta start humanity all over again.

[fallout-lou-begas]

Elevated Extras: Ranger Ghost Companion

You a Courier? If so, this might be your lucky day...if you don't mind walking a bit and your eyes are good. 

(Original sketch by @tarberrymentats / based on the OC Companion Meme by @falloutfandomeventhub / if you borrow this concept please tag it as #fallout elevated extras)

General

Name: Ranger Ghost

Location: Mojave Outpost

How to obtain: Complete the sidequest “Keep Your Eyes on the Prize,” then begin the sidequest “Giving Up the Ghost” to get her reassigned from the Mojave Outpost. Once freed of her assignment, she can travel with the Courier to monitor Legion activity throughout the Mojave.

Companion Quest: “Giving Up the Ghost.”

Ranger Ghost, like everyone else, is sick and tired of being stuck at the Mojave Outpost. Unfortunately, orders are orders. With the courier’s help, though, she just might be able to come down from that rooftop, but dealing with NCR bureaucracy might be a worse ordeal than Legion crucifixion.

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together. You probably can’t tell, but that’d make me very happy. Let’s get the hell out of here.

Let’s talk about your tactics. Sure. Lecture the ranger on tactics. Go ahead. / What’re you thinking?

I want you to change your combat style. (humoring) Alright. / If you insist.

Use a melee weapon. Close combat, then. / Sure. We can hold their hands and tuck them in while we’re at it. / (Wild Wasteland Enabled) Try to remember the basics of CQC.

Use a ranged weapon. (stating the obvious) It’s what I do. / You going to spot for me? / (deeply sarcastic) Aww. Finally remembered I’m a ranger?

Be passive. Sure, give peace a chance. / Don’t go pacifist on me, now.

Be aggressive: Locked and loaded. / (mocking the company line) Right, and with “extreme prejudice.”

Enough about tactics. Agreed. Anything else? / Are we good, then?

Let’s talk about how close you’re following me. Is there a problem? / What are you...implying, exactly?

Wait here. Right. Things to do, places to be? / Holding down here. / I’ll keep watch here.

Follow me. Let’s roll out. / Finally. Don’t like waiting. / Right. Skip to my fucking lou.

Stay close to me. (sternly cautious) Define “close.” / Got it, on you. / Just don’t bump my gun.

Keep your distance. Positioning, got it. / Yeah, covering you. / (facetious concern) Don’t get lost, now.

Let’s trade equipment. Don’t get fucking handsy, now. / Just don’t hog the ammo.

(Overburdened). I’m not your fucking pack brahmin. / (exasperated) I’ve only got so many pockets.

(Sneaking). Staying low. / (wryly imperative) Quiet, now.

(In Courier’s iron sights). What the fuck is wrong with you? / (slowly, emphasizing) Watch your trigger discipline. / Don’t make me take that away.

(Courier lays mine). I’ve got my eyes on that. / You’d better have a plan for that.

It’s time for us to part ways. It’s because i’m a bitch, isn’t it. / Such sweet fucking sorrow, I bet.

I’d like you to go to the Lucky 38. Hm. Sending the Ghost to the haunted house. See you there. I’ll try not to spook the Securitrons.

We can meet again at the Mojave Outpost. (sucks teeth) Guess I’ll report what I’ve got back to headquarters. Hopefully by now they’ve got someone else watching the brahmins shit full-time.

Injured: (seething) SSShhit. / Didn’t want it like this. / (with conviction) I didn’t get off that roof just to fucking bite it.

Damaged Limb: (shout of pain) Fucker clipped me! / Sure could use a fucking medic.

Regaining Consciousness: What...what the hell happened? / (trailing off) Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Death: (death rattle) / (weakly) Ghosts...can die, huh...ha...

Attributes

Aggression: Aggressive.

Confidence: Brave.

Assistance: Helps friends and allies.

Karma: Neutral.

Perks

Ghost of a Chance: When Ranger Ghost is by your side, so are the odds. In addition to gaining an extra 3% chance to critically hit, any single attack that would kill you may instead leave you just barely alive and invulnerable for a brief moment..

Drops, if killed

Ranger Vest Outfit

Ranger Grey Hat

Authority Glasses

Cowboy Repeater

Combat Knife

Iguana Bits

Grognak the Barbarian

Dialogue, Quest Details, and Ending Slides:

Dialogue

Why do they call you Ghost? What, don’t I scare you? Boo? Nothing? (beat) Well, if you gotta know, it stuck pretty quick back in basic. Not like there were many other albinos in boot camp. The all-white spooky bitch who shoots better at night? Yeah, that’s a ghost, alright. Pissed me off at first, but I came around when it started giving privates the heebie-jeebies. Just a little kick, is all.

What’s an albino? Albinism is a pigment disorder. You know, the color of your skin and hair? As in I don’t have color. Pale as a sheet.

[Medicine 35] A sharpshooter with albinism? Isn’t your vision affected? Done your homework, huh? Well, these big, bad sunglasses aren’t just for intimidation, doc. They only come off when I sleep. Sucks enough being photosensitive in the goddamn desert, but like I said. I’m a lot better at night.

What’s your real name? (the thousandth time she’s answered this exact question) If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.

Aw, come on. Curiosity killed the courier. Don’t push it.

[Speech 40] I’m just trying to understand my partner better. Then “understand” that I don’t owe you shit except loyalty. Just call me Ghost, and you’ll get that.

[Cherchez La Femme] Surely you’ve got a name to match that lovely personality. (flustered) Are you d-...I-...Yeah, I do.But you can just keep calling me Ghost. (quietly) For...for now.

What’s the deal with Ranger Jackson? Man hasn’t got a thought in his fucking head...which is why he’s such a good C.O., from the top down. He’s a nice enough guy on a good day. He’s...principled, for sure. But the man wouldn’t budge on an order from brass if it’d save his life. Stranded caravaneers get so bored and restless because of the impasse he’s overseeing that he’s started (excessive emphasis) “hiring” the rowdier ones for odd jobs off the grounds, which is why we’ve been “losing” supplies for a while. Gets shit done, I guess, but wish he’d show half that drive when bitching to HQ, but no. They tell him to sit tight, he says yes sir, and then he takes it out on us when we get frustrated at the frustrating bullshit.

Do you know Major Knight? (standoffish) Yeah. Good guy. Known him a while. Hell, he’s been at M.O. longer than I have.

What does he do? Repairs, mostly. With all the caravans backed up, we sort of have a monopoly on maintenance and upkeep. And believe me, he does damn fine work.

[Confirmed Bachelor] Is he...you know…? Is he...oh. Between you and me? Yeah. He and I are...alike. I mean, I’m the bitch everybody hates, so I don’t really give a shit, but beneath that…(thinking how best to describe him, ribbing him a bit)...accountant exterior of his, he’s really the soft, sensitive type. Needs someone to talk to sometimes. I’m that someone, sometimes, but if you get the chance...it’d do him good just to know he’s not that alone out here.

How can I best use your skills? Hard to find a way that’d be worse than all the wasted time at M.O., but I’ll make it easy for you: give me a target and let me shoot it. If it’s too close to shoot, I’m trained in hand-to-hand, and if it’s too far to shoot, it’ll never see me coming. Standard repertoire for a ranger.

What’s your opinion on the NCR? High enough to keep me enlisted, low enough to where I’ve got plenty to mock. We’re a good country, a damn good country. We’re the only real country actually left in the West. We’d be the best thing to ever crawl out of the bombed-out ruins of this war if it weren’t for all the bureaucratic bullshit, and the brass getting duller the higher you go. It’s all just song and dance and sloganeering to them out here. Whatever looks good on paper. They don’t give a shit what really happens to people out here, and if Caesar doesn’t kill us, that might. At least on the inside.

What’s it like being a ranger? Ranger training is the best, most brutal gauntlet this side of the Colorado. Hours and hours of days and days spent shooting, drilling, fighting, bringing the body to its breaking points, pouring blood and sweat just to get an inch past the wide-eye hopefuls who were always going to just wash out...and all of it just to stand on a fucking rooftop staring at ants and malnourished raiders on the interstate. I swear, if you gave headquarters a golden egg, they’d fucking cook it.

Were you at the battle of Hoover Dam? Was going to be, but believe it or not, I sat out sick. Got the fucking flu right before and was stuck at McCarran the whole time, half-lucid. Let me tell you, the whole tent of coughs and sneezes crowding around that radio, listening to the reports...when Hanlon ordered that retreat out of Boulder City, we were grabbing our rifles and getting ready to march out on foot, even if we could barely stand. We thought that was it. Of course, it wasn’t, and we cheered so loud when they radioed about the explosion that I hope Caesar damn well heard it.

Do you wish that you had been there? Of course I do. If I miss the next one because I’m stuck at the Outpost or some shit, I’m deserting with a dozen fed-up caravaneers to flank his fucking fort myself, if only for some goddamn excitement.

How do you feel about the Legion? Love ‘em. Joined the NCR because I just wanted to meet them that bad. Their new Legate’s such a heartthrob, I hear.

You’re not serious. (sucks teeth, deep sigh) Look. You saw Nipton. It was just a taste of what they do. I’ve seen good men die on crosses, and that’s a mercy compared to the good women. I hear when women sign up now, they get about five extra “are you sures?” from recruiters. Not officially, of course. Brass would never let people back home know how bad it is. But it’s just another thing that makes me glad I’m a sniper, sometimes. Engage at range. Out of reach.

What about Legion society? Do you know anything about life across the river? There’s nothing across that river. Nothing. (beat, pondering) Do you remember the Enclave War? Bitter, bloody, big explosion at Navarro? And the Brotherhood campaign out here? Even worse of a shitshow, but still, we won that out, too. But the Enclave and the Brotherhood at least stood for something. They were societies, or at least promises of one, and if things had shaken out the other way for the NCR at least something would still be standing here. The Legion isn’t like that. They aren’t “something.” They’re one big razor across Arizona, shaving everything down. And if we don’t stop them here, we never will.

What about their Legate? (with contempt) Lanius, “The Monster of the East.” Caesar must’ve plucked him out of hell or something after his first legate blew it at Hoover Dam. Word from recon is that the only reason we’re all still twiddling our thumbs there is that he’s out making friends for Caesar someplace, and he’ll be bringing them all back for a whole ‘nother goddamn jamboree soon. (tension broken by a funny thought; spoken dryly) Or should I say a Damboree. Since it’d be at the Dam.

Do you know anything about Mr. House? No. Closest I’ve ever been to the Strip has been McCarran, where I was too proud to get wasted on expensive booze in the casinos. As punishment, I got stuck with nothing to do but get shitfaced on cheap booze at the outpost. All I know is Mr. House runs the whole Strip himself, and there’s one casino, the Lucky 36 or something, that’s supposed to be all his. No one’s allowed in, no one’s ever come out. Frankly? Just strikes me as fucking weird.

Companion Quest: Giving Up the Ghost

After completing the sidequest “Eyes On the Prize” (in which the Courier checks Nipton for survivors), Ghost will remark that the Mojave’s going to hell, and all she can do is sit and watch. The Courier will reply that she ought to stop watching and travel with them, to which she’ll respond that her orders are absolute—but if the courier can change her orders somehow, she’d be indebted. The quest then begins.

= = = Stage 1: Deal with Jackson = = =

First, the Courier must speak to Ranger Jackson and convince him to consider Ghost’s reassignment. They can do this through the following dialogue options:

[Speech 80] This outpost is just waiting to be overrun by Legion. You’ll be the next Nipton unless you’re proactive.

[Speech 55; completed “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart” beforehand] Maybe I could tell your superiors about where I “found” these “lost” supplies, then.

[Barter 80] Ghost is an exceptional asset to the rangers. Stationing her here is a waste of valuable NCR resources.

[NCR Fame] There’s work to be done for the NCR out there, and Ghost is who I trust to do it with me.

[Black Widow] I’ve ways of making men come around...especially handsome men in uniform. (The Courier must then sleep with Ranger Jackson)

Note that the Courier can not simply complete the quest “Can’t You Find It In Your Heart?” as a favor to Jackson for Ghost’s reassignment. While he’ll let a caravaneer go, it’ll take more than clearing some ants from the road to get him to compromise his standing force and let go of a ranger. 

Alternatively, Jackson’s death will advance the quest.

Kill Jackson. Similar to Cass’ companion quest, Jackson can simply be killed. However, Ghost is far less sympathetic to this course of action and will confront the Courier over the murder. If Jackson is simply killed, the Courier will either need a convincing alibi [Speech 90] to argue that they weren’t responsible or admit to the murder. If the Courier fails the Speech check or admits to the murder, Ghost will turn hostile (“Maybe you didn’t fucking think this through, but do you know what we call someone who kills an NCR ranger? An enemy of the NCR rangers. Now, eat shit.”). Alternatively, the Courier can intimidate Ghost into silence with a [Terrifying Presence] option, after which a shaken but seething Ghost will simply ask the Courier to leave the outpost and never come back. Passing the Speech check is the way to not fail the quest from this option.

Kill Jackson and frame Cass. If the Courier kills Jackson themself, attempting to loot Jackson’s body will trigger a message suggesting that they could frame Cass for the murder by splashing whiskey on the body (so long as Cass is not currently the player’s companion and is currently at the Mojave Outpost, not the Lucky 38). By adding a whiskey bottle to Jackson’s body without themself or the body being discovered in the meantime, they can successfully implicate Cass for the murder, and explain as much to Ghost. She’ll buy it, since Cass was one of the most frustrated residents of the outpost and was drunk almost all the time. Cass will then disappear from the game, and if Lacey, Major Knight, or Ghost (if the Courier left the outpost before speaking to her again) are asked, they will explain that Cass was arrested by the NCR.

Have someone else kill Jackson. A desperate, fed-up caravaneer named Paul by the brahmin pens is willing to kill Jackson for 5,500 caps. This price can be negotiated down to 4,000 with a [Barter 60] check, and 3,500 with [Barter 75]. At midnight that night, Paul will attempt to sneakily kill Jackson. Alternatively, Paul can be incensed into attacking Jackson immediately and for free with a [Hot Blooded] trait check. In either case, though, there is no guarantee that Paul will succeed, and if Paul is killed then the Courier must advance the quest another way (though they can loot their spent caps from Paul’s body). When spoken to afterwards, Ghost will remark that she saw the Courier speaking to Paul and ask if they had anything to do with it. By passing a [Speech 50] check, the Courier can convincingly lie that they were trying to talk him out of it. With either the [Black Widow] or [Cherchez la Femme] perks, the Courier can lie and say that Paul very foolishly did it to try to impress them. With [Low Intelligence] the Courier can earnestly say that they thought “taking care” of Jackson meant doing something nice for him.

Somehow allow Jackson to die. If Jackson just somehow dies in an unaccounted way, such as from a spawned-in deathclaw eviscerating him in his own office, Ghost will remark on the strangeness of the situation but won’t blame the Courier. This is a failsafe option to prevent quest breakage.

= = = Stage 2: Find a Replacement = = =

If Jackson is alive, he’ll agree with the Courier that he ought to let Ghost go, but he’s still under orders to maintain a standing force at Mojave—a standing force which includes a highly trained sniper. If Jackson has been killed, Ghost will mention that Major Knight is next in command and would be glad to give her clearance, but that he won’t be able to do so without a replacement sniper, either. Either way, the Courier is tasked with finding a suitable replacement. The Courier can ask her for advice:

Who should I look for to be your replacement? They have to be NCR, obviously. Ex-NCR might work, too, so long as they’re in good standing. Any Dick or Jane off the road is a no-go, since brass put the kibosh on officially contracting mercenaries. Oh, and anyone you get would have to be well-trained. Not necessarily a ranger, but good enough to replace one, even for a sit-on-the-shitter job like this. Only the best and brightest get to stare at this fucking road all day, apparently.

Where should I look for your replacement? If you checked out some of the ranger stations around the Mojave, they might be able to move some people around. Hell, take it all the way to McCarran if you want, or with Hanlon. If you’re going to give them shit on my behalf, by all means, go nuts. A lot of higher-ups can be greased with enough favors, anyway. Whoever you get just needs the right credentials. Legion attacks get dragged asses and twiddled thumbs, sure, but bad paperwork would set a goddamn fire at headquarters.

The following characters can be recruited as the Mojave Outpost’s new watch:

A generic ranger. By speaking to the commanding officers of at least three of the NCR ranger camps across the Mojave with sufficient [NCR Fame], the Courier can speak to Chief Hanlon to arrange for Ghost’s replacement with a generic ranger. This option is impossible if “Return to Sender” has already been completed.

Craig Boone. If the Courier has completed “I Forgot to Remember to Forget” in a way that makes Boone repentant over his past, he can be persuaded to take over Ghost’s position as a good way to put his skills to use. Otherwise, he will refuse, either preferring to stay in Novac where he lived with Carla or not wanting to be stuck as a watchman again when he could be out killing Legionnaires. If selected, Boone’s home marker will change from Novac to the Mojave Outpost.

Manny Vargas. Novac’s other sniper can be convinced to take up Ghost’s post, but only if the Courier has completed “One For My Baby,” “Come Fly With Me,” and eradicated the Legion presence from Nelson. Once convinced that Novac seems safe, for now, he’ll be willing to reenlist if paid a generous salary. The Courier can either pay Manny 5,000 caps to reenlist now, pass a [Barter 65] check to explain that it’s a provisional reenlistment and reduce their bribe to 3,000, or if the Courier has already passed the [Confirmed Bachelor] check in dialogue with Knight, they can tell Manny about the cute little major sitting behind the desk all day there by his lonesome. Once convinced, Manny will relocate to the Mojave Outpost and take Ghost’s place.

Bryce Anders. This keen-eyed ranger can be recruited to Ghost’s position if he is rescued from the Vault 3 Fiends by the Courier. Once spoken with in Camp McCarran, the Courier can explain that the Mojave Outpost needs a new ranger stationed there. He will defer to Colonel Hsu’s authority on reassignments, and with a successful [Speech 60], [Medicine 40], or [NCR Fame] check, Hsu will agree to the reassignment on the grounds that it’s a useful position still sedentary enough to not complicate the ranger’s recovery.

Little Buster. The listless bounty hunter at Camp McCarran is looking for another career path and would be willing to take over Ghost’s do-nothing position. However, the only way to recruit him is to fabricate both credentials and enlistment records by either stealing personnel files from either Colonel Hsu’s office at Camp McCarran or from the filing cabinets at Camp Golf, or speaking to Daniel Contreras, who “knows a guy” who’ll take care of it if the Courier has already acquired access to Contreras' expanded inventory by siding with him in the unmarked quest “Dealing with Contreras.”

Private Halford. The sole survivor of Camp Guardian mentions that he wants to head back home through Mojave Outpost after being rescued from the mirelurk caves, at which point the Courier can mention no one is allowed to leave through there, and ask if he’d like to take Ghost’s position there instead. At first he’ll refuse, but with a [Speech 45] or [NCR Fame] check he can be convinced that a quiet, do-nothing watch assignment would be a lot better than anything else after what happened at Camp Guardian, to which he’ll agree. He will also relocate to the Mojave Outpost after being freed anyway, getting stuck like everyone else so that the speech check can be re-attempted. However, Halford isn’t considered well-trained enough for a ranger’s job. The Courier must speak to Jackson (or Knight, if Jackson is dead) and pass a [Speech 80] or [NCR Fame] check to make a strong endorsement, or a [Survival 55] check to explain how impressive it is that he survived an attack from so many mirelurks. Alternatively, the Courier can fabricate impressive enough credentials through the options required to assign Little Buster.

Once Ghost’s replacement has been assigned to the Mojave Outpost, the Courier only needs to speak to Ghost again. She will explain that she’s been “reassigned” to open patrol across the Mojave, ostensibly to track Legion activity, so long as she does so with the Courier. She also gains an additional dialogue option dependent on your choice of replacement:

What do you think of your replacement?

(Generic ranger) For this job? Any ranger’s as wasted as any other. I almost feel bad, I doubt she’ll like that fucking roof any more than I did...almost feel bad. Doesn’t quite cancel out the relief.

(Boone) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Strikes me as the...quiet, contemplative type. Likes to think. Not much else to do up there, anyway. I bet those brahmin pins have never felt safer.

(Manny) First recon is one hell of a pull. Took right to it, too, like he was already used to it. Seems like a nice enough guy, and seems to be getting along with Major Knight. Hell, you love to see it.

(Bryce) A good man. Heard about what the Fiends did to him, and after all that, he certainly deserves a break. Didn’t think of this shit job as much of a vacation before, but seems like it’ll do him good.

(Buster) Not sure where the hell you found this guy, but if (Jackson / Knight) gave the okay, then...okay. I would’ve put a goddamn brahmin in a beret up there if it could have gotten me another assignment.

(Halford) The mirelurk guy? Yeah, he seems alright. I’ve never actually seen a mirelurk, but after hearing his story, I don’t think I want to. I didn’t even know we had a camp that far up there.

Speaking to Ghost after her replacement takes her position completes the quest, and from then on, she can now be recruited as a companion. However, similar to Boone, she will only remain the Courier’s companion if they maintain good reputation with the NCR, and as an active-duty ranger, her intolerance for anti-NCR actions is even more strict.

Ending Slides

If "Giving Up the Ghost” is started, but never completed:

NCR Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, at least she was the first to see the bearer of good news come up the road. In the moment, at least, it was worth everything to be there.

Legion, House, or Independent Victory. Ranger Ghost remained at Mojave Outpost, dutifully, thanklessly, and restlessly. When the rangers there received word that the Legion had made their move on the dam, the entire outpost went silent. Waiting. From her rooftop perch, she was the first to see the NCR’s retreat, as civilians and troopers alike began fleeing through the Long 15. She was right: this whole time, all she could do was watch.

Ghost is dead. Ghost, bitterly, died as she lived...(deep sigh) at the Mojave fucking Outpost.

If “Giving Up the Ghost” is completed:

NCR Victory: When legionnaires by the score descended upon Hoover Dam, Ghost was proud to have been one of the many rangers in the battle that kicked their shit in back across the Colorado. She celebrated with the rest of them, even a smile creeping onto her face every now and then. Still, Ghost returned to business before long, as part of a squad out East tracking down the straggling remnants of Caesar’s retreating Legion.

Legion Victory: Ghost was among the many rangers who fought at Hoover Dam, but when the army of legionnaires led by the Courier, to whom she owed her very presence there, proved unstoppable, she was ultimately among its many casualties. Their advance was too sudden, too overwhelming, for a clean evacuation, and a grisly duel with a centurion trapped her near the front. Still, the Legion never took Ghost alive. She made sure of it.

House or Independent Victory: The arrival of the Securitrons at Hoover Dam was a surprise to every NCR trooper stationed there, including Ghost. Their sudden turn against the NCR, and their allegiance to the Courier, even more so. The triumph of vanquishing the Legion was short-lived, then, as Ghost joined the forced retreat, one pale face in a sea of many. 

Ghost is dead: Despite her name, there was no supernatural flourish when Ghost died. She simply died like a ranger, fighting to the end. That’s all that mattered.

(Bonus) Cass’s Ending Slide if the Courier frames her for the murder of Jackson:

Rose of Sharon Cassidy spent all of her time at the Mojave Outpost in a drunken stupor, which is why when Major Knight oversaw her arrest for the murder of Ranger Jackson, it took so long to get exonerated. By the time the alibi was pieced together and the evidence was admitted as circumstantial, the battle of Hoover Dam shifted NCR’s attention elsewhere, and the crime was never solved. For a few months in the clink, though, at least Cass got what she wanted: home, and finally away from the outpost.

[mitsybubbles]

arcade & uhhh perhaps raul? 👀

Arcade: 1: sexuality headcanon It is canon that he is gay so I’ll give a gender headcannon instead. ^^ He’s trans! 2: otp Arcade/Male Courier is wonderful and amazing and I love seeing it. I’m also pretty soft for Arcade/The King and Arcade/Boone. As for my ocs, I adore Arcade/River. 3: brotp Arcade and Veronica, Arcade and Cass, Arcade and Boone, Arcade and Emily Ortal, Arcade and Julie and Arcade and Daisy. As for OCs, Arcade and Miranda! >:D 4: notp Arcade and Caesar is a HUGE NO for me. I’m also not super crazy about other Arcade/Legionary ships, it doesn’t work for me at all.  And as usual, Arcade/any woman ships are a notp for ...obvious reasons. 5: first headcanon that pops into my head He can’t drive. By that I mean, he’s a mixture of absentminded as heck and "thinks he’s in the Indy 500″.  6: favorite line from this character “WHAT A LOAD OF BRAHMIN SHIT” 7: one way in which I relate to this character His awkwardness and inability to lie is pretty relatable ^^’ 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character Sir. Don’t confess to me about the enclave *in front of the NCR soldiers*. Don’t yell about Caesar *surrounded by legionaries*...Arcade...there’s a time and place for this. 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? Cinnamon Roll lol Raul: 1: sexuality headcanon Bi! >:D 2: otp I do not have any ;-; 3: brotp Raul and Veronica, Raul and the Courier, Raul and Lily! As for ocs, Raul and Sylvia. 4: notp Uhhh I can’t really see Raul with any of the companions or any of my adult ocs? He feels like an uncle or The Parent of the group. ^^’ That is to say I’m not against other people shipping Raul with their couriers if they wanna! Go wild guys. 5: first headcanon that pops into my head He makes the *best* food ever, everyone begs him to write down his recipes but he refuses to. 6: favorite line from this character “I'm an open book, boss. Granted, the book's in Spanish and some of the pages have fallen out, but I'm an open book. “ 7: one way in which I relate to this character I can’t relate too much to Raul mostly because he reminds me SO MUCH of my great uncle. They share a similar brand of sarcasm among other things. 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character Uhhh...nothing really? 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? Cinnamon roll.

[cheatdeathsarchive]

They’d been inseparable the entire time they had been in Sanctuary. They’d been side by side when Nick had been holding on by a thread. Sort of like seeing Mayor Hancock without his red jacket or Trashcan Carla without her brahmin. So when Six showed up by herself, a bright and sunny smile on her painted red lips Preston wondered where the synth had been, prepared himself for the worst in fact.

“Ma’am ... Six, I’m so sorry --”

Preston was surprised when her hand came up to stop him, “Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, cat. Nicky’s right as rain, just crashin’ at DiMA’s pad in Acadia. It was touch and go for awhile there, but we’re outta the woods. I have you to thank for that. Also for puttin’ up with me bein’ so frosted.” She smiled, and it was a nice smile even when it was tinged with sheepishness. A kind of smile that was hard not to reciprocate. It was enough to make anybody feel special. Her panic had been pretty understandable.

“Just apart of what we do, Six,” he reminded her. She laughed a bit, though Preston had a feeling that he knew what was coming next. He was right, as she batted her lashes and looked at him fondly with bright blue eyes.

“Would you mind cluin’ me in to what we’ve missed, handsome? I think I’ve got a couple’a visits to make.”

Only one, really, but in case Nick was behind her she’d have to move fast. Six couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Benny felt and what he meant when he’d say that she forced his hand. For a second it looked like Preston had more questions -- another look seemed to do the trick, though. All Preston could really say was that things had been...

Quiet.

Things had been quiet; just as well while he waited for his nose to heal. Gunners were in place, plenty of bands of raiders and thugs just like the Khans or any group of murderers were more than ready to deal with the pockets of resistance that wouldn’t be blown to hell with all who were on board. The only real difference between the NCR or anybody else out here was the uniform, but that was a no brainer.

Benny was resourceful as much as he was anything else. He was no Six, but Yes Man had been entirely his own doing. It took bartering and trading and far too much bullshit to get the old flight manuals he could to figure out how the Prydwen might work, but he was getting there. The information he had pulled from Nick’s brain hadn’t been good enough. Useful, yes, but Benny wasn’t keen on praising half-assed jobs.

It would have been simpler if he could just sneak some C-4 onto the load-bearing parts of the ship during his little rendezvous with Maxson, but that lacked panache. Maybe in some serendipitous way the fact he had to figure out what systems to sabotage by working his way backwards was a little more refined.

There hadn’t been hide nor hair of either Nick or Six. Minutemen had been doing something, but the trail went cold nearer it went to the coast. Not that he looked far or hard. There were other things to worry about. He almost hoped she’d keep her promise and come back and kill him. It would’ve meant something, maybe. If he cared about that at all.

There were muffled voices on the other side of his office door. The first time in awhile, and he groaned to himself; if it was that goddamn news reporter again he’d finally make good on his threat to kick her little sister out of here. His hand dragged across his face, and he listened for the annoying bite of her voice and her complaints still, even now, about how he threw Nick Valentine out. He felt that same satisfaction he felt every time he heard that name nowadays -- the sight of him helpless and dead in that chair.

Piper Wright’s voice never came. Instead he sat upright for a second at the sound of bells, like a slash of cold water to the face or a shot of something strong, “Ring a ding ding,” was all he could say dryly under his breath. He stood up to shoo away the bodyguards that were posted at various doors while he stood up to see if his ears were deceiving him, careful not to rush even in his own privacy where no one could see him fighting to not trip over his feet.

“The mayor isn’t expecting anyone,” Geneva insisted with a politeness that made even Benny cringe, “Let alone one of you... Minutemen. We have no need for you -- now leave.”

“I’m not anyone,” Six replied, voice pleasant but clipped. She might as well dropped an unpleasant insult. As he opened the door he could see the wool frock coat and the old militia hat that covered her face just so. He whistled low instead of giving into his desire to laugh -- not one of his more favorite costumes.

Both of them looked up, and Geneva opened her mouth to say something, instead Benny opened the door up to invite Courier Six inside.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” Benny asked dryly, and Six pursed her lips before she stepped past him, he shot a look at his confused receptionist and shut the door.

She didn’t walk by him slow, taking her time like she used to. It was rushed, like she wanted to be close to him as little as possible. Soon as the door was shut the hat was tossed onto the couch that made the office feeling more like a his penthouse in The Tops.

“Ain’t here if you’re worried about your nose again,” she replied coolly, and he was almost proud of her.

“Pussycat, I ain’t a rebound,” the look on his face wasn’t a smile, though his lips twisted up like it was one, “You don’t get to down grade and change your mind once you realize what you gave up. And if you’re here to kill me, well... Can’t say that get up does anything to stop my heart.”

She was shrugging off her jacket, and Benny reached for it to help like was the usual routine of things. There was that trusty old vault suit. There was something markedly different in the way she leaned away when he leaned in. Minor, but still there and painfully noticeable to someone who was used to the script going a different way. She looked up at him different -- harder, and now that almost proud was changing.

He was proud. First time ever he wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“Go pound sand you smarmy bastard. I’m here to blow up a ship -- or have you gotten cold feet? Accordin’ to Mr. Garvey you’ve been sittin’ around doin’ a fat lot of nothin'.”

“That’d be more fun,” he grumbled, and pulled out a cigarette to feed between her lips. She took it -- so some things were the same, but they also weren’t as she lit it herself. Benny didn’t miss a beat as he put the second one he procured into his own mouth. “You forced my hand, baby. Don’t have all the information I need on that big ship to know how to properly infiltrate it, dig?”

“Let me take a look,” she offered, crossing the table to lean over the manuals scattered about. She seemed focused, determined. Benny lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall.

“The Boomers taught me a thing or two about pre-war flyin’ machines,” Six explained, “Prydwen ain’t one o’ those, but they use all old world parts. Surprised you even know what half these words mean, Benny.” This was her in -- he always pulled Maria out to spin her on his finger after one too many drinks. A few many more passed that and she’d be on the table. She’d get him drunk and then she’d strike, because Six would be damned if she ever kissed him again. The thought of doing so repulsed her.

“Sticks and stones, Sixie -- I’ll pour us some drinks just like the old days,” He’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t relieved -- he could use her for now. This minute shit was more her bread and butter, the mechanical her unnatural obsession. Couldn’t rightly look a gift horse in the mouth, however; she still hated the brotherhood more than she hated him, and Benny could use that to his advantage. Once she was of use then he could figure out what to do with her.

After all, you don’t trust a broad from New Vegas, especially not the one you molded with your own two hands.

@o-rusted-heart

[antiquechampagne]

Beastly Kingdom: Chapter 14 Knock’em Down

“FALL BACK!” Liz screamed, digging her heels into Mama’s sides. From behind her came the distinct thwum of a laser. A pile of rubble to the right of her became a giant glowing pile of slag. Looking quickly back over her shoulder, she saw the giant robot shamble forward, reaching behind its back. Slowly it produced a gigantic warhead and lifted it over its shoulder like a colossal nuclear football.

“AMERICA WILL NEVER FALL TO A COMMUNIST INVASION.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered under hear breath, pressing Mama to gallop faster. Unconsciously, she ducked as she heard the missile whistle over her head. The bomb must have fallen short. As the shock wave washed over from behind, Liz trusted a few people got out of the way in time.

Skidding to a stop behind the prep school, Mama panted, her tongue lolling. Liz vaulted off her saddle, pushing her way through the chaotic throng in the HQ courtyard.

Liz raised her voice over the din. “MAGS!” She huffed. “Where the fuck are…”

Mags seemed to materialize before her, her eyes wild with fierce determination. “Yes, Boss?”

Liz grabbed a large heavy duffle bag off the floor, upending it, the papers it held spilling across the floor. “Fill this up with as many explosives as you can find. The bigger the boom, the better,” she ordered.

“Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” Nate raised a hand at her as if she was a misbehaving puppy who chewed on his expensive dress shoes.

“You got a plan for Prime, big man?” Liz shot back.

Nate seethed angrily, but he was flustered. “This wasn’t something we had contingencies for. All of our intelligence said-“

Liz cut him off. “Are you serious? You didn’t once think that the enemy could feed you false information?! What the fuck kind of ‘general’ are you? What horse shit!”

Mags returned, struggling a bit with the now awkwardly heavy bag. Liz grabbed it and slipped it over her shoulder, securing it behind her back.

Nate attempted to save face. “And, I take it, you have some kind of plan?”

Liz shot him a deadly glare. “Of course I do.” She turned back to Mags. “I lost my stealth boys when I scuttled my armor. Find me a couple. NOW.”

Liz squared herself off across the table from Nate. She took a quick breath to calm her nerves. She needed him on her side if this had any chance at working. “I need everyone to fall back and keep out of Prime’s way as they can. By the looks of things, the Brotherhood didn’t get it fully operational. It’s slower than it should be and its aim sucks brahmin balls. It’s dragging its right leg for some reason.” She pressed her fingers against what was left of the bridge of her nose. “I need two things from you. One: keep Prime distracted, I don’t care how. Two: pelt the Prydwen with as much artillery as you can. We need it out of the sky… Oh and three: take out as many vertibirds as you can. Those things are fucking annoying.”

Mags returned with a pair of stealth boys and handed them to Liz.

“What are you going to do?” Nate asked.

“I’m going to shove this bag as far up Prime’s ass as I can and pull the pin.” Liz turned to leave.

“Wait!” Nate called after her. He turned and quickly dug through another crate near the table, retrieving an off-white block of explosives and strange looking gun with a huge red trigger. “This is a remote detonator and C4. They should make things a bit easier.”

Liz quickly looked over the explosives before shoving them in the bag with the rest. She gave him a satisfactory nod and headed out.

“See you in hell!” she called back jovially.

Once outside, Liz scratched Mama’s chin to get her attention. “Listen, Mama,” she cooed. “I need you to get me to that big nasty robot as quietly and quickly as you can. Here’s the kicker… you can’t touch anyone on the way in, okay?” Mama cocked her head to the side. “I know, I know… I told you earlier you could have a full day of fun today, but this is really important, okay?” Mama snorted, then her luminescent tongue licked Liz’s scarred cheek. Liz thumped the side of Mama’s thick neck affectionately. “Good girl.”

In the distance, Prime’s eye laser cut through a crumbling building, setting the ancient beams on fire with a bone rattling boom.

“Ready?” Liz pulled herself back up into the saddle. She slotted one stealth boy into a slot on Mama’s armor while she clipped the other to her belt before turning them both on. The air around them shimmered. Digging her heels into the deathclaw’s sides, she guided Mama as silently as she could across the battlefield.

As the smoldering wreckage of her destroyed power armor came into view, Liz started to curse to herself. The doors were just barely ajar. She noticed a whistle above her head. She stifled a ‘whoa’, slowing Mama by sheer force, steering her away from the entrance as a barrage of mortars hit their target, blowing them clean off their hinges. Before the smoke could clear, she guided Mama through the burning metal gap, hoping the smoking remains of the gate would hide their advance.

Past the firing line of the wall, it was much easier to avoid the smattering of distracted troops, each focused on some task supporting the front line. Slipping around, they slowly made their way in a wide arc behind Prime.

From this vantage point, Liz’s early observations were confirmed. The robot was not combat ready. Its limbs hitched and ground as it tried to advance and target enemies. On its back, Liz could make out a stack of warheads waiting in a huge clip for a hydraulic metal hand to reach back and grab one. Luckily, there appeared to be a limited stock loaded into the carriage.

Quickly studying the giant, Liz realized that even with Mama’s considerable height, she was going to have to do considerable amount of climbing before she would have any chance of securing her payload for maximum effect.

“Get me close, Mama.” She coaxed her glowing companion within an arm’s reach of the trailing leg of the robot. Gathering her strength, Liz stood and balanced on Mama’s back, carefully gauging the gap. Springing into the air, she reached out and grabbed ahold of the scaffolding supporting the robot’s massive hydraulic thigh. Once she found her footing and steadied herself, she glanced down to see Mama peering up at her, reluctant to leave.

Liz pointed back towards the front line. “Go!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down but still issue an order. “Go kill some fuckers!” Mama chuffed before bounding away at full speed.

Liz steeled herself and began to pick her way up the metal leg. As she approached Prime’s midsection, she had a quick decision to make. If she lingered too long, the robot could pivot, crushing her between the bomb chassis and its colossal hips… but the alternative was to climb onto the ladder-like chassis. This path had her dangling precariously and exposed off the giant’s back. Her choice was quickly made for her as Prime turned to target something on the other side of the field. On reflex, Liz scrambled onto the chassis before it fatally pinned her to Prime’s left hip. Liz let herself exhale the breath she was holding only when she reached the robot’s solid shoulders. This area had a smattering of strategically placed handholds, which made scaling the beast slightly easier. Between the array power coils jutting from Prime’s back, Liz happened upon a sizable hatch, most likely for maintenance.

Just as she was debating how she might pick the lock on the hatch, Prime began to reach back for, reaching for another nuke.

“COMMUNIST TARGET ACQUIRED.” It bellowed ominously.

Realizing that time was not on her side, she tossed all thought of subtlety out the window.

“Screw this!” She reached for her back up weapon, a short crowbar from her belt loop. She savagely started peeling open the access hatch, her stealth field failing as she jabbed at the steel behemoth skin. The hatch started to bend, the latch giving with a satisfying snap just as a handful of laser bolts scorched the metal next to her. Soldiers from the ground had spotted her.

Liz opened the hatch. She shrugged her deadly cargo off her shoulders, sliding it into the open cavity. She was just about to close the hatch when something familiar caught her eye. Inside, nestled in among the guts of the machine, was a commonly used combat inhibitor. She had seen countless numbers of these units as she tinkered on robots over the years. With a quick twist and yank, the circular component popped out.

Liberty Prime suddenly reared back, nearly sending Liz spilling over the edge.

“DEATH IS A PREFERABLE ALTERNATIVE TO COMMUNISM!” Prime took aim at a passing vertibird and opened fire with its laser, catching the tail and sending it plummeting to the ground, before tossing the nuke in the direction of the airport building.

More gunfire hit Prime around her. Liz wasn’t sure if more Brotherhood soldiers had seen her meddling with their toy or if they realized Liberty Prime was now firing indiscriminately at anything in its field of view. Either way, it was time for her to make a quick exit before someone hit something vital. And, in her mind, there was only one way down. The hard way down.

With one hand, she held onto the detonator. With the other, she reached into a deep pocket and pulled out a handful of chem syringes. She didn’t even bother to read which ones she grabbed before she jabbed a half dozen into her thigh and smashed the plungers. Time slowed to a crawl as she jumped, propelling herself off the giant’s shoulder with a feral scream. Her heartbeat deafened her ears, drowning out any sounds of the war waging around her. If she could have flown by pure force of will, Liz would have risen into the clouds and tore the Prydwen apart with her own two hands. As her slow and dreamy trajectory took a notable but expected arc downward, she pulled the red trigger.

Reality and time snapped back violently. Her fall was suddenly interrupted by a colossal explosion. An intense wave of heat and shrapnel threw Liz’s body sideways, flipping her chaotically ass-over-teakettle. She had one last glance at the sun in the sky before she hit the ground and everything went black.

 Consciousness came back in scattered flashes. First, light leaked in as Liz’s eye and brain began to argue over the exact mechanism by which shapes should be in focus. Something warm and wet coated one of her cheeks, the other pressed on something coarse and cold. Why did she smell mutfruit jelly? She groaned, trying to roll over. Something in her shoulder ground together so loud she swore she could hear it more than feel it. Her head swam as she propped herself up on one functional elbow. In the back of her mind, Liz was aware that many parts of her body were on fire with pain but somehow, but that information didn’t seem to be all that pressing at the moment.

Out of the fog walked a hulking figure. The ground reverberated with each heavy step as the drab green power armor advanced, a glowing laser musket throwing pulsing red light over the metal chest armor. It reminded Liz of prewar Christmas lights.

Liz tried to reach for her crowbar, fumbling as her shoulder refused to cooperate before remembering that it was gone, lost in the explosion.

“Damn it…” she mumbled, just as more movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Something colorful and large.

“BOSS!” Mason ran to Liz’s prone body. “Boss?! Are you alright?” He started looking her over. Liz could read his grimace like a highway billboard. She was not alright.

“What fuck do you think? Ghoul’s weren’t meant to fly.”

The power armor towered over her, it pointed to her leg. A multitude broken needles still protruded from her thigh, the broken glass and shredded metal looking like a deadly bouquet.

“What chems did you take?” Nate’s voice crackled out of the helmet’s exterior speaker.

“Hell if I know. All of them?” Liz started to pluck them out, the grinding in her shoulder forcing her to stop after the first few. Mason took over, pulling the remainder out before opening his own med pouch.

The General put a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Hold on.” Her pointed at Liz’s other leg. “We need to get that out first.”

Liz moved her one leg, revealing the other beneath it. Clean through the meat of her thigh jutted a jagged and bloody board. The sight seemed to break her from her shock induced haze. Against her internal protestations, Liz’s mind swam, the edges of her vision dimming. Pain burned through her body from what felt like a thousand places.

Suddenly, bullets began to pelt the group, bouncing harmlessly off Nate’s armor. One grazed Mason’s arm. Both men returned fire, turning the wounded scribe who was trying for a lucky shot into a broken heap.

“We need to move the Boss out of the open,” Mason looked around, calculating their best route. “But I’m going to need a hand.” His wound was bleeding profusely, his hand limp held tight at his side.

Nate wordlessly scooped Liz from the pavement. This was the first time she had a chance to see where she had landed. She nearly started to chuckle. She had smashed through a picnic table, complete with scattered food and smashed place settings, but the pain cut her off before she could. Guess that is where the smell of mutfruit came from!

Nate carried her swiftly through the fray, heading towards the school, Mason in tow. Another deafening concussive wave stop them in their tracks. Nate nearly dropping Liz as he ducked reflexively. Instead, he just ended up jostled her broken body. Around them, screams and whoops erupted. Turning, Liz could see the Prydwen in flames, listing dangerously. Liz let out her own triumphant yelp, but it was cut short when Nate decided to continue his jog back to the HQ.

Once in the courtyard, Nate handed Liz off to a waiting medic. Mags was quickly at her side, giving the medic an icy death glare as she gave Liz various reports. Liz was a bit disappointed she was left behind during the final offensive, the sounds of battle farther away than she liked. The medic was swift and efficient. They hopped her up on more Med-X before pulling out the offensive plank from her thigh. Once the wound was cleaned, they checked her various other wounds, stabilizing her crushed shoulder. After administering a handful of stimpacks, Liz felt well enough to hobble over and watch the once proud air ship crash and sink, flaming, into the sea.

[mindmischiefrp]

welcome to the yosul school for witches and wizards

araya willems 02.21.1992 (28) arithmancer, quidditch blogger (baek ho alumni) pure-blood

TO DO LIST—

BUY MORE COFFEE !!!

prepare notes for tues meeting

start packing pls

birthday present shopping for grandma?? if there’s time???

follow up on the match before leaving for work

answer comments on blog

throw self off cliff if this list ever disappears :(

–

YOU HAVE 1 NEW VOICEMAIL. MESSAGE LEFT 11 MARCH, 11:49 PM.

“hey love, it’s dad. just wondering if everything’s okay since you missed dinner last week, and i haven’t really had the chance to ask how things are. i know you’re busy with work and all, but can you please give me a call when you’re free? look after yourself in the meantime, okay? love you, bye.”

–

03/04/2019:

“we need to take into consideration the history of the number 3 first, such as for the romans, chinese, brahmin indians, and even make mention of how it changed in the caliphate in the 9th century? possibly? from there we can see how it is in the western world, before moving on to assess the various equations and other numeral systems to determine whether—i have no idea what i’m talking about anymore, ha!”

–

THE MUTANAWECHS MAKE “HEFTY DONATION” TOWARDS NEW MUSIC BUILDING, TO HAVE WING NAMED IN THEIR HONOUR

1. “hefty donation”? lol are they trying to show off about this now? how low 2. must be nice being rich and having the world cater to them… 3. that whole family is a mess…. can’t get over them bragging about their wealth. GET OVER YOURSELVES

–

“when you weren’t here, grandma threw her fancy plates because aunts kept arguing at dinner.”

“… wait, which fancy plates?”

“the porcelain ones. the real expensive ones. the rose ones.”

“shit. our family’s a damn mess.”

“so, i should definitely follow you and move to seoul for school and work, huh?”

“sorry, one mutanawech is enough. they’ll get suspicious if they lose another, and you’re just—stronger than i am to deal with their bullshit.”

“f*ck off.”

–

wills_ara92 uploaded a picture (10:01 AM AEST) ↴      — location: sydney, australia

work work work work work ☼

Load more comments

paopaos: lololol aren’t u there for an arithmancy conference tho  ↳ @wills_ara92: yeah but let’s pretend i’m on holiday too lmao watiii45:have fun and come back home safely! ♡ aychirrn: i’ve never seen so many numbers in my life…   ↳ @oun.ing.79: never seen a calculator before 👀   ↳ @cassyaaaa_: or a maths book 👀   ↳ @wills_ara92: can you have your sibling bickering on your own post thanks

–

( INCOMING MSG : MOM )

5:01 pm → when are you coming home? 5:02 pm → people keep joking that i have no daughter because you’re never here

( OUTGOING MSG : ARA )

6:10 pm → that’s depressing 6:10 pm → and kinda rude too lol 6:10 pm → tell them i’m busy working and trying to make a living! 6:11 pm → i’ll be home tomorrow :) :) :)

( INCOMING MSG : MOM )

6:12 pm → what time? 6:15 pm → hey, what time? i need to get things ready for you and that takes a while 6:30 pm → DON’T LEAVE ME ON READ

( INCOMING CALL : MOM )

–

NEW BLOG POST!: ‘IT WAS A TERRIBLE LOSS—BUT THEIR SEASON ISN’T OVER.’

Following what’s arguably the biggest upset of the season, many are adamant the reigning premiers will be […]

comments (62) order by newest:

puddlesnears (1 min ago): guess i won’t need to tear up my membership then lol allthingsblue (1 min ago): i don’t know, it’s hard to see them recovering after playing so poorly but you’re right, still plenty of time left for a change! go pudds! woods24 (4 min ago): do you think the captain’s presence would’ve made a difference? you said last time that it didn’t, so i want to know if the same could be said this time around?       ↳ thekeeper: No, I think so. To be honest, the team didn’t seem to be in it since the beginning—they turned the quaffle over multiple times, failed to make use of their scoring opportunities, and were just disorganised in general. As much as we praise his leadership, I doubt it would’ve been enough to push the other players to get their act together when they should be able to do so without his help. The pieces unfortunately didn’t come together tonight, but watch them bounce back next match.       ↳ woods24: that’s what i thought lol! here’s hoping they manage to turn it around next week and prove the haters wrong. thanks for the insight as always, the keeper.

[sneakywitch-thief]

Words:  4,577 || One-Shot Robert Joseph MacCready/Lucy MacCready

An unlabeled holotape found in a Third Rail trash can.

( A short look into MacCready's past set in the world of my fic "It Had To Be You", but can be read independently.)

Now for all you Johnny Mathis fans out there in the Capital Wasteland, playing ‘til forever, it’s The Twelfth of Never.

Even now, Three Dog’s still running Galaxy News Radio.  

Him and his damn— dang Brotherhood goons.  They’ve got DC in a chokehold and its even got most of the mercs spooked.  The ones that have a shred of a soul, anyway.  After the clean water started flowing it was good for a while, but now.  Now that the Brotherhood’s got its shit— crap together, they took back everything they promised, and then some.  It was all some ploy, I guess, to get us wastelanders in line.

Even Little Lamplight hadn’t been entirely immune to that.

That funny mungo who passed through Little Lamplight never came back, now that I think about it.  Said I looked like her butt and insulted my mom, even with my rifle pointed right between her eyes.  Balls of brass.  Last I heard of her, though, she got herself killed to get the Brotherhood’s little project up and running.  Used her all up too.  She was our friend, she had saved some of the kids.  Hearing she helped the Brotherhood, that mungo, our mungo, well.  We were a bit friendlier to mungos in steel after that.  We didn’t just outright shoot them like we damn right— like we definitely should have.  Lucy even gave them some of our fungus for their drugs and medicines.  It was good for a while.  Life was good, if you can believe it.

Then Lucy and I got big.  Didn’t matter that I had made Little Lamplight what it was.  Rules were rules, even for the mayor.

Big Town was a mess when we got there.  Our kids who got big, well, they had been easy pickings for raiders and slavers and muties.  Our mungo helped them out a bit, so they survived, at least.  We were far enough from DC that we didn’t feel what happened right away.  It was good for a while.  I found work to support me and Lucy guarding caravans.  Got good caps to buy food and Brotherhood Aqua Pura.  Better guns for our big kids in Big Town.  Funny, how I still think of them as kids.  Most were older than me and Lucy, but still.  I had been their Mayor and I had done well by them.  They were good kids, and they were mine.  So I did my all to keep doing that.

I took different jobs, a bit shadier and some a bit less moral, but hey.  I had a wife to feed and my own stomach to fill, don’t judge me.  Lucy kept doctoring for Big Town, even helped travelers and merchants with their brahmin even though she didn’t know a thing about them.  Didn’t stop her from learning.  She wanted to help.  All the time, mothering anyone and everyone and just being so damn— dang— so dang kind.  And the world ain’t kind to kind people.

And true to fashion, the world went and made her an actual mother.  

You ask me how much I need you, must I explain? I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain

I didn’t know quite what to think when she told me.  I still hadn’t even told her what I was actually doing on all those long jobs in the Capital Wasteland.  I told her I was a soldier.  I couldn’t tell her that I was a hired gun for half a dozen merc groups, taking and stealing and killing to put bread on the table.   I don’t know why, I had done worse to protect Little Lamplight when I was mayor and she hadn’t batted an eye then.  But now, married to a girl I didn’t deserve and now to be the father of her child— a father!  The words would just catch in my throat and choke the courage straight out of me.  So I’d slink off to another job or some other thing.  Anything to distract me from the thought of actually being a father, I guess.  The thought of it all terrified me.

When Duncan was finally born, happy and healthy, well.  I was more scared than ever.  He was this tiny and delicate thing, beautiful and perfect, a miracle, and me.  Me, his merc daddy and his mother who knew fuck-all, er, nothing about it all, I wondered what on earth I had done to deserve him.  At first, I felt like I didn’t.  I didn’t spend a lot of time in Big Town, or at the homestead we built together some years later.  There were always more jobs to take and more caps to make.  Looking back I have no clue why Lucy decided to stay with me, but for some reason she stayed.  She stayed and raised our son, built our home, and loved me.

And I was there for almost none of it.

I didn’t see my son’s first steps or hear his first words, and at the time I told myself I didn’t care.  I was making sure we survived and I was providing for them, that was enough.  Jeez, I remember now Lucy playing with him, he was two, I think.  He was smashing together some blocks she had whittled him, she sneaking glances at me as she picked up another of his messes.  And during it all I was pouring over some new rifle or loading pistols.  I don’t remember that anymore, but I thought it was important at the time, I think.  A soldier, I told her I was, gunning for the Brotherhood.  They were the good guys, I would lie to her, we’re making the Wasteland a better place.  And at that she would smile and tell me she was proud of me.  I hated hearing it every time but, hey, if it kept up the lie it was good enough for me.  I remember the guns, Lucy walking up to me and wrapping her arms around my neck, settling her head next to mine.

She told me that she’d be having another.

And I remember being, of all things, mad at her.  Wasn’t one kid enough for her, I had wondered, as if it had been in her control or something.  I was having enough trouble even being able to look at Duncan, being what I was and how I was, I was a pretty shit— no, I think I’ll say it.  I was a pretty shit father and husband, then.  Having two kids with a shit father seemed a bit much, and to me then, well.  Might as well have been the end of the world for me.

So I did what I was best at, lied about having to do a job or something and split.  I think that was my first time to the Commonwealth, after she told me.  Place was almost sh— crappier than the Capital Wasteland, if you could believe it.  Good bar in Goodneighbor to drink away my sorrows.  Spent all the caps I would have earned that job drinking at that bar.

When I came back Lucy was bigger then, and Duncan was too.  They were both so beautiful, waving at me from behind the rows of razorgrain, Duncan running to catch me around my knees.  Daddy, daddy, he was nearly screaming his joy.  That smile, that f— that freaking smile on his face, every time he saw me.  Breaks my heart even thinking about it, now.  Especially now.

Lucy pulled me aside that night and told me she was getting lonely.  Didn’t we have enough to get by now?  Couldn’t we settle down now, raise our children?

God, I loved them so much, but at the time, hell if I knew it.  All I could think about was all the danger around the corner and the caps we needed to stay alive.  I ran on that, I had to.  I couldn’t handle being a husband, a father.  Shooting, stealing, killing — that was what I knew.  What I know.  So I kept doing that.  I brushed her off, telling her raiders and slavers didn’t just stop and settle down.  I had to keep working, getting caps, soldiering as I told her.  Doing my part and fighting the goddamn Good Fight.  More lies to keep her happy, to keep her from knowing who I really was.  And it worked for a while.

You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true Until the Twelfth of Never, I'll still be loving you

She was pretty well along with our second when the Aqua Pura stopped flowing.

Of course, it still was here and there, say through my merc contacts — but the merchants weren’t carrying it anymore.  They couldn’t, they would tell me, the Brotherhood wasn’t giving it freely anymore, and what remained of the purified Potomac was swarming with the horrors of the Wasteland.  They had quit their patrols outside of DC.  Merchants couldn’t even buy the stuff, they had to brave muties and ants and ferals for it at the river.  And of course none of them did.  I had nearly blown one of their heads off, the a fu— freaking coward.  I needed the stuff for Lucy.  She had told me children weren’t easy to have here in the Wasteland, what with all the radiation and the disease and the fighting.  So I only ever got the best for her.  For our kid.  She almost lost Duncan once when I couldn’t get any of the good stuff.  Got so sick she couldn’t even stand, and then the bleeding...  

Ever since, only Aqua Pura would do.

So I went to DC, through all the muties and all the whatever else decided to ‘eff me up that day, and went straight to the Brotherhood.  Cut through all the dang middlemen, get straight to the source, you know?  Well DC was a warzone again, what with the Brotherhood infighting.  It had stopped though, suddenly and without warning, and the streets of DC were quiet.  I remember feeling uneasy about it.  I finally found them holed up in the Citadel, even the red ones.  Something was off, but I didn’t give a damn.  Getting water for Lucy, that was something I could do.

They offered me water in exchange for hired muscle.  Like an idiot, I agreed.  I was part of a team of mercs, some of them I had done less savory work with before, some looked more like raiders than anything.  We were all men and led by one of the reds’ officers, some Paladin.  They called the job a supply run.  Didn’t know why they needed mercs for that, but hey, they were giving me good water so who cared.  We went to some settlement built out of a fallen building.  Not many people there, and it looked like it had seen better days.  Like the rest of us, they were hurting bad for the pure water we had become accustomed to.  Being in the worst of the Wasteland, they were getting the worst of the water.  Many were dead or dying from it.  

That, that was even we could see just looking at them as the red Paladin spoke to some scruffy looking scavver.  The conversation between them wasn’t long, and after it a few bottles of precious Aqua Pura switched hands.  I remember being taken aback by it at first, as I was working for the jerks and I wasn’t getting any until the job was done.  But then the scavver went into his tent and brought out what must’ve been his wife.  She was just as scruffy looking as he was, if not more.   She was quiet.  A little girl clung to her ankles, giggling at being dragged about.  Another child, an older boy, looked somberly on from the door.  I thought of Lucy and Duncan at the sight.  I wanted to see them for some reason, then, so much so my heart ached with it.  But I brushed it off and focused on the job.  We left the settlement, undoubtedly to move to the next one.  I wondered, absently, what kind of supplies we were trying to get.  Or were we just giving them away?  But no, the merchants weren’t getting any.  What gives, I thought to myself, and soldiered on.

The woman and her girl followed us.  When we got far enough from their settlement, the girl got scared and started crying.  Wailing.  Made me think of Lucy back home, across the Potomac and far away from all this.  Was she crying for me, about having to raise Duncan and the next kid all on her own, run the farm, while I was trying to run from it all?  That little girl crying reminded me of all of this and I needed it to stop, immediately.  The annoyed Paladin shouting back another order to quit it just made it more official.

So I bent down to the girl, remembering Lucy’s tricks to make Duncan calm from his frequent toddler rages.  Puffing out my cheeks, funny faces, the whole thing.  Probably made myself look like an a— like an idiot to the other mercs, but who cares?  I needed that girl to stop crying before I did too.  She thankfully got to laughing then at me, and it was better then.  When I stood and went to move back to spot in formation, the mother spat at me.  She called me cruel.  

Hold me close, never let me go Hold me close, melt my heart like April snow

I shrugged it off, thinking it was just her being naggy or crabby or something, and went back to my position.  When we stopped for the night, and the woman and her child were still following us, I asked why she was there.  The merc I asked, a really shady guy called Neil I had run a heist with a few years back, had instead of answering me, given me a cigarette.  He asked me about how my wife was doing, if she had had her kid or not.  For what I later learned to be good reason, something in my gut told me I shouldn’t answer him.  Something was off.  But I wanted to know, so I told him.  Duncan was as healthy as can be, and a second was on the way.  Lucy couldn’t have literal sh— crap water, so here I was.  Neil just nodded over his cigarette and never answered me.  But at that point, I had got to thinking about her and him and nothing else really mattered anymore.

Suddenly I just wanted the job to be over so I could go home.  I thought seriously about just doing what Lucy told me.  Settle down.  For good, stop doing godda— gosh-dang merc work, farm the earth and be a father, a husband.

The next morning we were off to the next settlement and the Paladin talked to two more men.  The first was a filthy old man, so old I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dropped dead from a fart right then and there.  The red Paladin gave him three bottles of water and the old man brought out a woman with only one arm. One of many of his women, if what I saw through the open door was right, and most were in similar condition.  She was despondent and wouldn’t answer our questions, but sidled over to our woman and her girl.   We left the old man and his women, despite the pleading looks they gave us.  The Paladin did nothing and neither did we.  As we walked I looked back to the women that followed us.  They must have been good friends or something, I had thought, because they held their hands so hard their knuckles were white.

The next house was more of a tent than anything, and the Paladin talked to this guy who looked like a literal greaseball.  Balding and fat, covered in grime, chewing on some sort of leaf as he listened to the Paladin.  He accepted ten bottles of Aqua Pura with a toothless smile and parted the flap of his tent.  Inside was a teenage girl, so young she wouldn’t even be a mungo by Little Lamplight standards, if she had had the luck to be with us.  She screamed at the sight of the Paladin.

He dragged her out kicking and screaming by the hair.

I really wanted out of the job after that, after I realized what it was.  When we were ordered to shackle her to the other women, the little girl.  When we herded them into the gates of the Citadel.  For my work, I was given five bottles of Aqua Pura, half of what we had bought a teenage girl for, and a sack fat and heavy with caps.  I remember clearly walking home the weight of those caps, that water that felt so tainted with the mark of Brotherhood upon it, the stain of what I had witnessed.  Of what I had done.  What I had stupidly told that, that fucker Neil!  I remember then throwing them all in a dumpster and breaking into a sprint.

Lucy and Duncan were sleeping when I burst through the door, nearly out of breath and muscles screaming from running for miles without rest.  We have to leave, I remember saying, packing up what little we had in a suitcase in a frenzy, we have to go.  Lucy, after she had woken and seen the look on my face, the terror, she didn’t question.  She gathered up Duncan, carried him in her thin arms above her massive belly, and followed me as we ran from the place that had been our home.  A light appeared in the sky in the distance, growing bigger.  I knew immediately what it was and told Lucy and Duncan to stay quiet and hide in the far end of our razorgrain fields.  

I watched with a sinking heart as the vertibird landed outside our homestead, armored men in red and silver milling about.  They kicked open the door when no one answered, began searching when they couldn’t find us.  Their headlamps were approaching.  I don’t know how, I can’t remember from the adrenaline and panic in that moment, but we got past them, only shot at once or twice, and away.  Though I’d like to say far away.  The Wasteland was too empty to evade sight by their Vertibirds, ironically our only safe haven was among the ruins of DC.  I hated the idea of having to go closer to them to get away from them, but there weren’t too many options.

We took the metro system to evade notice, and maybe, flee the Wasteland.  To what lengths would the Brotherhood search for us?

I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume

Well, we never found out.  The Metros were something both taken and avoided by many.  In the days before the Brotherhood change in leadership, well.  There had been patrols to clear out feral nests and mutant hives.  Not anymore.

All the routes I had learned over the years through my merc jobs, none panned out.  We got lost in the dark twists and turns, we got blocked by locked gates or train cars scattered or busted to hell by explosions or who knows what horrors that walked these tunnels.  Sometimes tunnels carried the echoes of the laughter of drugged-up raider gangs, others the freaky shouting of super mutants.  Hours passed, or minutes that felt like it, I don’t know.  But we were lost in the metro and we were at our wit’s end.

It got dark again, and Duncan was hungry.  When he began to cry, it carried loud and long through the tunnels.  It was shrill and it near made my heart stop.  Lucy did her best to make him stop, but he was inconsolable.  He wouldn’t stop fucking crying, and when I heard the scrambling and the shuffling of feet I knew soon we’d all be.  I yelled at them to hide and we do, in a subway car.  This horde of ferals, more than I’ve seen in my entire goddamn life, come running down the tunnel searching for us.  There’s like, thirty.  Fifty.  I don’t even know how many, but all I’ve got is this stupid fucking hunting rifle from my Little Lamplight days on me.  My arsenal’s back at the house, which is swarming with Brotherhood sons of bitches and now there’s a bunch of ferals between me and them, so I’m fucked.  The thing’s a rusty bolt-action and I’d maybe manage to gun down two or three before we’re torn apart.  They’re slowing now, following the echo, but they don’t know where we’ve gone.  Fucking miracle, that.

I tell Lucy to sneak down the car, past the ghouls and down the tunnel.  I’d stall them here and follow them.  I knew I could outrun them, and I’d distract them from Lucy and Duncan, who were slow.  It’s a fucking dumb-ass plan, but it’s the only one I’ve got, okay?  I tell her to run, I push her when she tries to say no.  She has to, for our kids.  A ghoul hears us, starts walking towards us through the darkness.  It’s face, it’s face freaks out Duncan and he starts screaming again.  Lucy clamps a hand on his mouth but it’s not enough.  She runs off at a sprint, but she’s so pregnant she’s waddling and straining with the effort of it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck it all!

I slam a leg bone from a nearby skeleton into the handles of the subway door and smash open a window with my elbow.  I start firing at the ghouls trying to get in at me, one by one, I fire at their fucking heads.  They explode, bloody and wet and they fall to the ground.  For every one I shoot there’s two more and the bone won’t hold forever.  I hear Duncan still fucking screaming and it’s so much louder here in the tunnels, I can hear it it’s so fucking loud in my ears it hurts, but I keep firing.  As fast as I can I keep firing, and the bone creaks with a sickening snap.  God, they’re breaking through and—

They scramble over each other for me, for flesh, and I keep firing as I run, I have to.  They can’t reach Lucy, they can’t reach Duncan.  I need to fucking stop them or I have to distract them from the screaming from my wailing little boy or something, anything, but god damn it I can’t! One runs past me, then two.  I turn and sprint past them, punching them or kicking them in the back of their melted legs to trip them.  But it’s not enough, it’s not enough!

I catch up to Lucy, and thankfully I’m still ahead of the ghouls.  But her hair’s sticking to her face from the sweat, her face strained from the exertion of the running, from carrying Duncan.  She looks about ready to collapse, but still when she sees me she gives me one of her smiles.  It’s tired and weary from the pain from the running, from fear of the ghouls, but still.  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and the sight of it is burned like a brand into my fucking brain.

I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme Until the Twelfth of Never and that's a long, long time

She trips then, a ghoul has her.  She yelps at it bites at her.  Duncan falls out of her hands and to the ground, hitting his head on the concrete.  Immediately, he’s quiet.  So quiet I can feel, I can hear, my heart drop.  I scream, everything’s falling apart.  My body burns with adrenaline, with fear, with everything as I scoop up Duncan and kick the ghoul in the face.  But there are five more behind them running faster than I can shoot them and their mouths slobbering with hunger, and who knows how many behind them.  I can’t see for shit anymore anyway, there are too many tears.

She sees them too, looking back, and she tells me to run.

Lucy, I can’t just leave you!  I can’t leave you to die!  Lucy!  I’m screaming at her, crying freely now, I can’t stop it.  Thinking about it now, looking back, I feel it again.  God dammit.

She tells me to save Duncan.

I don’t know how I managed to escape the Metro with Duncan, unconscious in my arms, or how I found myself at a farm north of the Capital.  Lucy wasn’t there.  She still hasn’t come back, in these years, though part of me still wants her to come back to me.  I never told her that I loved her, not even as she left herself for the ghouls.  More than anything, I want to tell her that.

I… I want to tell you that.

Duncan’s four now, and I’ve sworn to be better for him, but shit, it’s so fucking hard without you.  He needs a father to be there for him and he keeps asking where his mother is, fuck, he can’t remember your face anymore, Lucy!  He doesn’t remember the Metro, thank god, but he can’t forget you.  Fuck, I can’t forget you.

And now he’s coming down with something real weird and I don’t know what to do.  He’s, he’s sick.  He’s coughing and he’s covered in these blue boils and it’s scaring me to death, the doctors I’ve talked to and wasted all my fucking caps on don’t know anything.  Lucy!  Lucy, I can’t… I don’t know what to do.  Where ever you are, just, just help me.  Please.  I can’t lose him, too, not after losing you.  

I’ve heard about all the tech in the Commonwealth, I’ve seen it.  Before the war that’s where all the egg-heads went, right?  There might be something there, some medicine or something, that might be able to help him.  I’m thinking of leaving him here in the care of this family I’ve been a farmhand for the past year or so.  Don’t worry, they’re good people and I think I can trust them.  If not, I’ve given them a fuckton of caps to keep him safe until I can find a cure for him.

Until the Twelfth of Never and that's a long, long time

But anyway, the caravan I’m leaving with is calling for me.  They’ll leave if I don’t go— well, and I’m sick of hearing that fuck— freaking Brotherhood sellout Three Dog anyway.  Why didn’t I turn off that damn radio before I started recording… and what’s with this song anyway?  So terrible, making my eyes water.

Shit, I said all that while I was recording?  I meant to make something for Duncan for when he was old enough, if I didn’t come back, to remember his old man— but, f-freakin’ heck, this stuff is utter shit.  Said too much.  You’d be better at this, Lucy, I think.  I’ll have to delete this later…

Anyway, I’m headed out so I guess this is goodbye, huh?  I already told Duncan but I guess I should tell you too.  Leaving you two and the Wasteland behind…

Good-bye, Lucy.  I… I love you.

[static.]

[cerastes]

HEY DRIMO it's been a while since you did a big myth post so how about you tell me a cool story about my boi karna

Oh dear me, Hindu mythos, damn, ok, so, first rule of Hindu mythos is that you all have to wear your seat belts while reading this. If you don’t, you are susceptible to immense physical and spiritual damage, enough that it might kick you right out of the cycle of reincarnation, and then the Mythos Retelling Collective (MRC) will revoke my license due to Irresponsible Sharing of Intense Tales (art. 23847). Are you all strapped in? Y’all got your helmets? Alright alright, let’s get this show on the road.

SO, KARNA. I assume most of you are familiar with Karna having Big Strength and being god damn unkillable. Ok, so, it goes beyond that. It goes at least three Milky Ways in width beyond that. Originally known by his other name, Vasusena (and this dude has like 14 different names), Karna is the main protagonist of the Hindu epic, Mahabharata, and–

Oh, right, before I can tell you anything about the Mahabharata, or about Hindu mythos in general, I need to explain power levels. So you know how in Dragon Ball Z Abridged, Vegeta and Nappa use “Raditz” as a unit of measure for power levels and ki? “My power level is 500 Raditz.” “My power level is 23000 Raditz”, the joke being that Raditz was such a weak grunt that his meager total power can be used as a unit as you would with centimeters? Ok, this is actually canon in Hindu mythos. They have a scale of power levels, referred to as “Levels of Warrior Excellence”. The levels are:

Ardha-rathi: The lowest level, meaning literally “Half of a Rathi”. Read the next section for a more elaborate explanation, but this is Yamcha-tier, basically, the weakest of the badasses.

Rathi: It almost sounds like Raditz, doesn’t it? Well, Rathi is the unit by which all the other levels of Warrior Excellence are measured, as well as a rank by itself. A Rathi is an individual so powerful and skilled, that they can do battle with 1000 regular warriors simultaneously. This is the “Dynasty Warriors Playable Character” tier: Strong, but still susceptible to frames per seconds drops and getting stunlocked by arrows.

Atirathi: HERE is where things get spicy. An Atirathi is a warrior that can fight with six Rathi simultaneously. This is the level of strength possessed by Kevin by the time of Home Alone 2.

Ekarathi: You thought six was impressive? TRY EIGHT RATHI SIMULTANEOUSLY. We are entering Popeye-with-spinach levels of world-ending strength now.

Maharathi: The top level, the cream of the crop, the true definition of “Fuckhouse”. Those who reach this level are immensely powerful, and can do battle with 12 or more Rathi simultaneously. That is 12000 asses worth of whoopings. This is where you favorite Touhou is, obviously, and fuck what everyone else says.

Their measure of unit is basically “How many thousands of dudes can this person fight, or how many people that can fight a thousand people at once can this person fight?”, which, in other words, means that India has not fucked around a single day in it history.

So you might be wondering, “where’s Karna in all of this?”. Well, Chili Con Karna is SO MINDBOGGLINGLY STRONG AND SPICY that he is, literally, a Double Maharathi. Karna is stated to be “in terms of strength and skill, equal to two Maharathi warriors”. These peak jokers made this elaborate power level chart just so they could say “AND KARNA IS DOUBLE AS STRONG AS THE STRONGEST”. He is Two Gokus. Karna could literally look at you, without the laser, and you would just be atomized, restructured, and atomized again in the span of minus three seconds, and you would thank him for it. And damn RIGHT you would thank him for it, because he probably didn’t mean to do that to you. That’s because Karna, despite having more powers than Superman and God combined, is the Ultimate Good Boy. This dude is Puppy Kiss Central, this dude chips in on Pizza Thursday every week, and makes up for those who didn’t chip in. Karna lets you take the last chicken nugget. Karna lets you use Player 1 when you hang out at his place. Karna tells you to text him or call him once you get home after hanging out and he gets worried if you don’t. That dashing guy you saw doing volunteer work at the homeless shelter the other day? Probably Karna. The owner of Old Friends Dog Sanctuary? Definitely Karna.

He’s GOOD.

And that’s why the Mahabharata is so painful: I don’t speak Hindi, but I am pretty sure “mahabharata” translates directly to “Karna Has Bad Day :(”. Today, we’ll be talking about Karna’s Three Curses, with a little bit of his childhood for context on the first one, and because I just want to talk about his dumbass mom. Also that one time he clowned Arjuna and Planet Fucking Earth got mad at him.

SO, there was this lady named Kunti, princess of the Kunti Kingdom (yeah), and this one time she was the host to a sage named Durvasa, who was visiting. She is a most Excellent Host, and provided Durvasa with the best of services, the most delicious food, the most luxurious of drinks, and every volume of Detective Conan, and Durvasa was so stoked at this 10/10 Would Come Again service, that he gave Kunti a special boon: With a mantra he taught her, she now had the amazing power to get knocked up by any deity of her selection. Kunti was really happy with her new pregnancy powers, and couldn’t wait to try them out, so she did to call upon the Sun God Surya, and guess what fucking happened: That’s right, fucking happened. It was a violent and intense cyclone of sex so kinky that the baby was born with armor and earrings (in some versions, Surya “handed” the child to Kunti, but in others, which I opt to believe, Kunti bore his child, and his fat solar load was so powerful that the fetus was armored). And then Kunti was like “oh fuck it worked lol but I am not wed” and since she didn’t want to be an unmarried mother (refer to Hindu tradition for this one), so she did like many other Mothers In Mythology and she put Armor Baby on a basket and set him afloat on the rivER LIKE A REAL KUNT, IT WAS IN HER NAME ALL ALONG, WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES KEEP DOING THIS.

THE REST IS UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS IS TURNING LONG.

Like many other Babies In Mythology, Armor Baby was found by someone, this someone being a charioteer named Adhiratha, but not just ANY charioteer, this was the chief charioteer of King Dhritarashtra, who I hope will forgive me if I wrote his name wrong, and was adopted by the charioteer and his wife, Radha. Armor Baby was given a name, Vasusena, and his pet name was Radheya among the locals. Being born an armored baby, it should come as no surprise Vasusena was interested in the military arts, and so he approached this really cool dude named Dronacharya who taught princes about warfare, BUT Drone told the armor kid to fuck the off because he only taught Kshatriyas (the military social caste in Hindu culture), but he was very impressed by Vasusena’s guts because this shit ass kid more or less just strolled into his house and said “HEY TEACH ME HOW TO BE A BADASS”, so he suggested to his father to change his name to Karna, which means “one who peels his own skin”, as a reference to his guts and totally not any sort of foreshadowing to anything NO SIR WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT.

So ok he got a cool name and whatever, bUT SEE, he still got told to fuck off, which he DIDN’T LIKE, so Cartman, not one to be daunted, sought out Dron’s own teacher instead, because fuck you, that’s why. So Kane finds him, name of Parashurama, and asks him BUT FIRST he disguises himself as a Brahmin, because Futurama only teaches Brahmins, and Karlos was not gonna make THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE. Panasonic agrees, seeing potential in this Double Goku kid and so begins the training arc. Result: Parashurama proudly announces that Karna is his equal in the art of warfare and archery. All this heaving and hoing gets my man Parmesan tired, though, so Karna, ever the good boy, offers his sensei his lap so he can sleep, sensei says fuck yeah and he uses his lap pillow. While he is sleeping, however, a very angry bee goes and stings the hell out of Karna’s thigh, but he’s got his sensei on his lap, which is like when you have a cat or a puppy on your lap and it falls asleep and you do not DARE move. So he didn’t, and this leads to a very important lesson to be learned in the Mahabharata: NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED. When he woke up, Parashurama saw the wound and the blood that flowed from it (and from this, I take bees in India are Cazadores from Fallout New Vegas) and immediately realized that Kane was NOT a Brahmin. This lie meant he had ILLEGALLY STOLEN INFORMATION, and so he cast a curse on Karna that made him forget everything about how to wield the divine weapon Brahmandra-astra, an immensely powerful divine weapon he learned to use, but Karna pleaded to please be reasonable, at which point Par realized, hey, maybe this is kinda excessive and impulsive, so he reduced the curse to make it so Karna would only forget it when he needed it the most against an equally powerful warrior, which IS NOT ANY FUCKING BETTER, and then he felt EVEN WORSE because Karna had basically been his best student ever and is a Good Person, so he gave him his own divine weapon, the Bhagavastra, as well as his bow, Vijaya. I mean, you could’ve just. Undone the curse. But hey. New weapons!

So Karna, a dedicated and excellent archer, was VERY HYPED to try out this new legendary bow he had come to own! There’s a thing in Hindu martial arts called “Shabdavedi Vidhya”, the art of hitting a target by detecting the source of the sound. What Karna didn’t consider is that shooting things by just detecting their sound, you know, means you are not REALLY LOOKING AT WHAT YOU ARE SHOOTING, but hey, like eager-to-try-new-toys mother, like eager-to-try-new-toys son. Three guesses as to what happened. You are RIGHT, HE SHOT A FUCKING COW. And it’s not with a little arrow or a harmless stick, this was with the Vijaya, which means that cow was obliterated off the face of this god damn planet. My dude was practicing “shooting at sounds” with a tactical nuke launcher. What the tits did he expect to happen. SEE, I’m sure you know, but shooting cows in India is not exactly something you just apologize about. But Karna, albeit not the brightest crayon in the box, was still Ultimate Good Boy, so he went to apologize to the owner of the cow, who happened to be an actual Brahmin who had performed the Agnihotra rite daily, which made him extra holy. Brahmin, of course, was pissed, and since apparently people in India just have a full moveset of curses ready to sling at a moment’s noticed, cursed Karna AGAIN, with this curse being “fated to die a helpless and callous death”. Not the best series of days for Karna. He could’ve just walked away, but he’s a Good Boy, so he had to take responsibility. NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED.

So I want to call attention to this bitch of a life for a second: Baby is born because some cunt used her super pregnancy powers to see if they worked without considering the consequences of, you know, getting super pregnant, Baby is chucked into a basket and sent to fuck off on the rapids, is picked up, immediately tries to enroll with a fighting master, instead enrolls with a SUPER fighting master that taught the previous fighting master, and gets double cursed for being a good boy and having bad trigger discipline.

Now, let’s skip a couple of chapters, and we arrive at the moment where the Pandava princes, all demi-gods, hosted a “tournament” of sorts to show off their skills to the people and to their guru, Drona. They were all having a good time, being badass and superpowered WHEN SUDDENLY Karna shows up and arrogantly challenges them because he knows he can do better, from what he has seen. One of the princes, Arjuna (kept you waiting, huh?), who was regarded by Drona to be the most powerful and skilled on the Pandava, told him to maybe fuck off, and that they couldn’t compete because they were above him, as his caste was no doubt lower than theirs. A certain pair of ears DID NOT LIKE THIS and jumped to Karna’s defense: Duryodhana is the name of the owner of said ears, and he’s got Authority. How much of it? Well, he just up and named Karna King of Anga then and there, just so he could compete. Holy SHIT. Now, see, Duryo hates the Pandava. Duryo REALLY, REALLY HATES the Pandava, and he was 100% behind supporting this random stranger if it meant he could possibly maybe humiliate these ugly sumbitches. Maybe. Ok, see, here’s where it gets a bit weird, but depending on who tells the tale, Duryo and Karna actually already knew each other and were childhood friends, but most tellings make this their first meeting, and I am absolutely on board with that, because it only goes on to show how much Duryo hated the Pandava, and divine people in general. He just fucking HATED gods, man. Can relate. So Karna goes and UTTERLY OUTDOES AND UPSTAGES the Pandava princes. Outright beats all their highscores and writes “ASS” in the 1st Place billboard on each entry as his name. They are all FURIOUS at him, especially Arjuna, who had aced every single event, and now had to wear a nice 2nd place on all of them because this absolutely nobody (no one knew Karna was the sun’s son yet) showed up and utterly pulverized them. This also starts his relationship with Duryo, with whom he’d become fast, and eventually, best friends.

BUT, SEE, HE KINDA GOT MADE A KING, SO HEY, HE HAD TO GO, UH, TEND TO THAT. He was checking his brand new sudden kingdom, when he came across a WEEPING CHILD. If there is one thing Ultimate Good Boy can’t stand, that’s the tears of children, so he approached the girl and asked what’s wrong. See, the girl had accidentally dropped her ghee (kinda like butter but less dense) and she was going to get her ass whooped by her step mother. Karna kindly offered to buy her new ghee, but she said it had to be THAT SPECIFIC ghee with the dirt on it, and that she didn’t want any other. Karna, in his infinite kindness, said “oh, sure, lol”, so he grabbed the dirt and squeezed it with all of his extremely godly might, extracting the ghee back into the jar as if squeezing water out of a sponge, because that’s just the kind of solution you come up with when you are the strongest person in Ever.

hey

hey

you guys remember what I said a while ago?

WHY YES

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED.

Guess what happened. Guess whose anger he incurred. He got Bhumi Devi/Mother Earth herself pissed at him. And what was her beef, you ask? Well, see, Karna squeezed that soil SO DAMN HARD that she took offense. Yes. Really. And guess whSHE FUCKING CURSED HIM TOO, OH MY GOD, CEASE THIS, YOU CAN’T JUST HEX A DUDE FOR SQUEEZING DIRTY, COME ON. The curse this time was that she would one day trap his chariot’s wheel during a crucial moment in his life. All because that little girl wouldn’t make do with a new jar of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.

WORST. WORLD. EVER.

And guess how Karna dies.

Yes.

His chariot’s wheel gets trapped on the earth (third curse) during a crucial confrontation with Arjuna, he attempts to defend himself with his astral weapon, but forgets how to conjure it (first curse), and is decapitated by a shot of Arjuna’s Gandiva as he helplessly leans against the chariot’s wheel, unable to free it (second curse).

The moral of the story is don’t fucking help anyone, ever, and don’t own up to your mistakes, because if you do, you’ll be triple cursed.

                                                                                       Karna deserved better.

[practicingmedicine]

Practicing Medicine: Chapter Six

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2075 ROBCO(R)

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HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: "THE-LORD'S-MIDDLE-FINGER"

INITIALISING….

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STATUS

Battery Level: 67%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 90F

HEALTH

BP: 120/90

SPO2: 100%

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RR: 17

HR: 70

TIME

Day: 24 SEP. 2279

Time: 15:32

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Current Temperature: 89F

Atmospheric Pressure: 750 mm

Background Radiation: 0.431 RAD

---

"Chomps Lewis! How ya doing, old buddy?" cried Gram, throwing his arms out and motioning for "Chomps" to come hug him. Chomps didn't play ball. He was wearing a yellow mining helmet, and holding some sort of animal in his arms- a mole-rat, I think. Didn't seem like he wanted to let it down to hug Gram.

"Howdy, Gram. Going to New Vegas again?"

Gram shrugged. "Dropping off a shipment there. And if it all works out, maybe I'll have enough money to settle down there for good." Chomps stroked his mole rat, and it let out a quiet sniffle.

"That city sucks the money right out of you, Hoplite. I traveled there once- never again. Blew a whole month's earnings in one hour..." He didn't sound bitter, when he spoke, just regretful. Gram put a hand on his shoulder.

"A hundred-thousand caps, Chomps! That's how much I'm gonna get paid, and I ain't gamblin' away a single cent of it. There are other things in Vegas than gambling," he said. There was a serpentine emphasis in his voice as he spoke aloud the absurd amount of money he'd be earning from this job. The old man sighed.

"Listen, Hoplite, that's great and all, but if you want to go to New Vegas, then you might as well turn around right now. This route is closed to travelers."

Gram looked hurt. "Closed to travelers? Is everything okay here?" Chomps shook his head.

"No, things are not okay. You heard about them escaped NCR convicts? Powder gangers, they're calling themselves. Dangerous folks," he replied, still stroking his mole-rat. Gram nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah, I always knew that the correctional facility was a stupid idea. Giving a bunch of violent criminals dynamite, they should have seen that one coming from a mile away…" Gram trailed off, then snapped back to attention. "But, those boys- they don't trouble us. Bounty hunting is one of Tandi's favorite pastimes. Am I right, Tandi?"

"I've killed at least a hundred now, and that's just since I got to America. Do you want to know how many times I killed in Kiev? I used to keep track," said Tandi. My heart skipped a beat.

Kiev?

Oh.

Oh, of course that's who she is!

"Wait, Tandi, did you just say Kiev? As in, Kiev Ukraine?" Tandi put a finger up to the mouth of her gas mask.

"Shut it, sawbones. I'm busy," she said. But she wasn't getting off that easy- I nudged her in the shoulder.

"As in, the Scourge of Kiev? Is that who you are? I thought you were retired!" Tandi yanked her mask off. She didn't look happy.

"Yeah, that's me! I served my 25 years, I got my medals, and now I'm retired. You want a fucking autograph?"

She didn't shout. She just looked and sounded completely disgusted with me, and that hurt a lot more than the shouting would have. I slunk back behind the cart and tried not to care about the opinion of a 50-something year old serial killer.

But, despite how much I disliked the NCR, and how much I disdained killers, I'd heard a lot of stories about, "The Scourge of Kiev," that mysterious Eastern ranger. She might not have been born here, but her dedication to the NCR was legendary. She was on the propaganda posters, in the Newspaper headlines- hell, I'd even seen a comic-book with her likeness on the cover! They never showed her face or said her name, but you could tell it was her by the way she stood, the flowing cape that they always had her wearing, and by the big, obnoxious labelling that said, on every portrayal, "THE SCOURGE OF KIEV," usually with a big blue rifle-crosshair next to it.

Not that I'd had mom read it for me. Or that I'd enjoyed it, and briefly aspired to be like Tandi until father convinced me that killing was bad.

Really what I'm saying is, I could pretend that I was above her, but the unfortunate fact remained: She was a hero, and I was nothing. It's hard to ignore the opinion of someone like that.

"So Ignore this boy- there could be a hundred of these men, there could be a thousand, and it wouldn't matter to me. Not with all the lives I've ended, no. They are still only men. And these hands have broken many men..."

There was silence. The wind changed direction in the seconds that followed.

"You all done pretending to be scary?" asked Chomps, when some time had passed. She nodded and re-applied her gas mask. "Well then lemme explain why you'd best be turning back. See, we ain't worried about the convicts; we're worried about the deathclaw infestation that they caused when they blew up the valley."

"Shit," muttered Gram. Chomps looked a little smug at that. Gram started pacing back and forth, glaring at the ground. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…!"

"I can kill deathclaws too," said Tandi, nonchalant. Chomps shook his head.

"Well, you can try, but- I'm warning you, there's a lot of em-" Tandi was already striding past him, sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. She gave us a confident nod goodbye.

"I'll be back when they're all dead!" Gram spit on the ground.

"Damn straight- give em hell, Tandi!"

"And, if you see an egg, would you mind hauling it back? Asking for a friend!" added Cook. But I don't reckon that Tandi heard her, cause she had already turned her back to us and started walking towards deathclaw territory. Chomps looked indifferent.

"You don't think she's actually gonna do it, do ya Hoplite?" asked Chomps, staring off after the ranger had climbed to the top of a large, rocky hill. Gram stared after her for a moment, then nodded. She disappeared over the crest.

"I've learned better than to doubt that old maid, Chomps. She lives up to the hype."

Suddenly, Chomps looked at me. I hadn't really been acknowledged thus far, so it caught me off guard when he looked into my eyes. Immediately, I broke eye contact and stared at the ground.

"Not sure I've seen you traveling with Gram before- you new to the business?" I started to reply, but Gram interrupted me.

"He's a Doctor! Gotta get Downtown for some reason, so we took him on for this run," said Gram. Chomps ignored him.

"Who are you really, though- what's your name? Are you a doctor?" I looked up at him for a moment, not sure if I should answer, then looked back down. I hated it when people did stuff like this. To be fair, I also hated when other people tried to tell me who I was, but Gram hadn't said much.

"Isaac Saller. My father was a member of the Followers, so I... picked some things up along the way," I said, indicating my badge. For a few seconds, Chomps wore a look that was impossible for me to parse. Then, he broke into a wide smile, which was enough to scare me. Why was he smiling? Did I say something stupid?

"You're Lucas's boy, right?" He asked. I nodded; I'd be surprised, but apparently a lot of people had heard about father, and I had a bit of his likeness. It was a hard thing to live up to.

"You see, Lucas was a big name around here after the work he did in Novac. Saved the whole town from some sort of plague, or something. My wife Margaret was visiting at the time, and she invited him back here for the night when he finally decided that it was safe to let the residents travel again. An intimidating man to be around, but I was grateful- If it weren't for him, Margaret probably wouldn't have lived to fight at Hoover Dam- wouldn't have died a hero…" Chomps stared off into space for a while, then snapped back to the conversation. I felt a pang of sorrow for this strange old man. "Anyways, Lucas is a good man. Is he still working for the Followers? I haven't gotten a letter back from him in years."

I shook my head. "He's dead. A drunk courier from the Mojave Express came into town one night and shot him." Chomps didn't flinch.

"That's a damn shame. But, as I've learned, people come and go- be glad he managed to do so much good in his life before he died. Probably helped more people than everyone who's ever worked this quarry combined."

It was sort of disorienting to hear a complete stranger talking about my father like this. Like, I always knew that he was kind of important, but here this old man was talking about how my father had saved the life of his wife. I even vaguely remembered father talking about Novac, but he hadn't talked about it like it was anything but a little pit-stop, a side quest. Had he really impacted so many people?

In the time that I had been mentally absent from the conversation, Chomps had started walking to the front door of the main building, and Gram was currently walking the cart and the two Brahmin to a little stable area beside the main building. Judging by how far they got, I'd been standing around slack-jawed for a good twenty seconds.

Well, nothing new there. Trying not to look embarrassed, I casually (read: stiffly and suspiciously) jogged up behind the caravan.

"Wow, that quarry sure is abandoned! Can't imagine what it must've been like watching all those deathclaws come flooding in," I commented, even though I had actually been facing the opposite direction of the apparently deathclaw-infested mining quarry, and I actually could imagine all of the deathclaws flooding in because it's a recurring nightmare of mine. I don't think anyone heard me except for maybe Cook, who was still sitting on the roof of the cart as it was secured beside the main building. She gave me a nod of acknowledgement as she stepped down from the roof, and sidled up next to the Brahmin. She led them up to a little wooden stable, much like the one we had behind the casino in Primm.

"Did we feed Flebe this morning? She keeps giving me the puppy eyes whenever I come near her," Cook said, indicating the larger of the two- Well, four Brahmin, depending on whether or not you counted each head as a separate entity. I wasn't exactly sure how that worked, though I'd noticed that each head seemed to be doing its own thing. Which one controlled the body? Did they both control the body?

Does it matter to the story I'm trying to tell? Probably not.

"Yeah, I fed and milked 'em both this morning. Though now that I think about it, Flebe probably hasn't had any water for a while. Hebe drank some when we stopped in Primm, but I think we forgot to water Flebe on account of this guy," said Gram, nodding in my direction. I snorted.

"Oh- Oh, I'm so sorry Flebe! I must admit, I weren't thinking much for your health when I got assaulted yesterday!" Gram looked like he was gonna try and say something, so I raised my voice. "I SURE DO HOPE that I can make it up to you someday, but I understand if that's too much to ask! Water's a precious thing in the Mojave, ain't it?." Both of the heads regarded me with dull interest for a moment. Gram gave me a punch in the shoulder.

"I wasn't insulting you, wise-guy! Just answering Cook's question."

"Oh, and while we're still on the subject, why don't you make it up to poor little Flebe by helping us pump him some water? I'm about to get started on dinner, and if he hasn't drank since the stop before Primm, he's probably going to collapse soon," said Cook, stroking Flebe's head. I gave her a nod of assent.

"Seems like the least I can do. Where's the pump?" I asked. Cook pointed at the corner of the wall we were standing beside.

"Behind here, there are a couple of water pumps and buckets. Just dump some water in the troughs, and be careful not to spill any- Chomps has chewed me out for that before," she said, and I raised a rectifying finger.

"Don't you mean... chomped you out?" Cook broke into a toothy grin. Gram looked decidedly less amused.

"Look Gram- now we have a teammate who's even dorkier than me, and I think that crossword puzzles are fun! I told you it would happen someday," said Cook. I took her comment with pride; Father had taught me the fine art of the awful pun when we were reading Discworld together for the first time, and I'd been fabricating them since.

Come to think of it, can you believe that no one had shot me yet? Like, I might've done alright before the war, but I'm genuinely impressed with myself for surviving past my 12th birthday, given the world I grew up in and the many, many counterintuitive traits I possessed. It's a miracle that someone so insultingly naive, neurotic, and out of place as me managed to avoid getting blasted to pieces sometime between my birth and now!

As I prepared to make a retort, Cook disappeared into the main building, leaving me alone with Gram and the Brahmin. Gram nodded towards the water pumps.

"Better get to pumping," he said. I watched him slip through the partially opened front door and close it behind him, yanking it shut loud enough that I winced.

Did I just get delegated? It sure felt like it. After a few moments of thinking, I decided I'd been delegated. Pretty tame, as far as hazing rituals go, though I was still surprised with the swiftness and efficiency with which the task had been dumped on my lap while the others went off to relax. Kinda reminded me of how mom roped her employees into going "above and beyond" for the business...

Ah well. It wouldn't hurt to do some mindless work to take my mind off of everything, and maybe I'd earn some brownie points for it. All that in mind, I headed around the back of the building, picked up a bucket, placed it under a rusty blue water-pump, and got to work extracting water from the Earth.

-Break-

I opened up the back door to the mess hall, and was immediately struck by the delicious smell of roasted meat wafting in from the kitchen. In the main hall, plates and silverware were being set out on a fancy wooden dinner table by a uniformed NCR soldier. Gram was sitting at one end of the table, while chomps sat across from him, and all of the other stools were unoccupied. I walked into the room a bit, and saw Cook and some lanky, sunburned young lady with brown hair and a ponytail arguing back and forth in the kitchen. I decided to listen in.

"… that isn't mole-rat meat, Jas! Just who the hell are you getting your meat from?"

"A very nice old lady, who just happens to not want to diverge her name to me." Cook glared accusingly at the woman, and she threw her hands up above her head. "Okay, fine, maybe that should have rung some alarm bells! But I can't believe it's actually…"

"Jas, that's human meat. You've been making meat pies out of human meat," Cook whisper-shouted. I don't think anyone else heard her, but my appetite shrank away just like that. Of course, now that I'd heard it, I had to investigate…

"What's this about some human meat? We just find out about the secret of soylent-green or something?" I asked, stepping into the kitchen. Immediately, Cook pointed at a cut of meat on the counter. It didn't take me a magnifying glass to figure out what that was.

"Yep, that's people," I said, backing up a little bit. Jas looked betrayed.

"Are you sure? I mean, I guess I thought it was a little bit too beefy for mole rat meat, but it tasted kind of similar," murmured Jas. I nodded. She didn't sound nearly horrified enough to me.

"Trust me, I've seen human meat. My father and I performed a few autopsies when I was younger- that strip right there is probably a cut from the inner thigh…" I said, indicating the larger of the two hunks of meat. I briefly examined the other one, adjusting my glasses and kneeling down to put my face a little bit closer to it. It had been cut down a bit, but I could still vaguely figure out where it came from. Looked sorta like bird poultry. "…and I think the one beside it is from the bicep, but don't quote me on that. Someone cut the fat off the edges, so it could also be a different cut of meat off the humerus." The color was rapidly draining from Jas's face as she stared at the meat in question. Cook looked kinda curious as I was explaining the cuts, but seemed to get back to being angry with Jas pretty quickly.

"Anyways, it's like I told you last time- don't get your meat from people who you don't know and trust. They might be cannibals or something," said Cook. Jas crossed her arms.

"Fine. I'm not planning on sticking around here anyways. As soon as I get to my next stop, I'll get a new supplier. For now, I'll just have to sort out the human meat from the rest," she said. Cook rolled her eyes.

"Please. You've been here for at least a year now, I don't think you're leaving anytime soon."

"Jas, stop arguing with the guests! I don't know what it's about, but if it's holding up dinner then you better quit it!" shouted Chomps from the other room. Jas sighed dramatically.

"Alright, fine, I'll get a new supplier! If your ranger solves the deathclaw problem, maybe I can finally get back on the road to New Vegas, and then we won't even have to worry about it." Cook crossed her arms.

"Well, then you better start packing soon, cause Tandi is good at killing stuff. Bet you she gets back before we're done eating." She opened up the oven and grabbed a stray rag to pull out the contents. Jas grabbed a rag as well, and together they hauled out two platters, each of which contained a big cut of steaming Brahmin roast.

Sensing that I was in the way, I silently retreated from the kitchen and tried to find a seat among the rest of the guests in the dining room. Gram had moved to sit beside Chomps, and was halfway through a conversation with the old man, but he gave me a nod of acknowledgment as I sat down at the table. A young NCR soldier whose name I didn't know said something to the effect of, "welcome back," but I didn't quite catch it. One leg of my stool was shorter than the others, so I occupied myself tipping it up and down. A dangerous thing, on account of my stubby little legs.

"… Where do you think she went?" asked Gram. Chomps looked distressed. The little mole rat was crawling under the table, so I pet it on the head while I tried to figure out what they were talking about. It squeaked pleasantly as I stroked its nose.

"I don't know! She left a note, says she was going off to live life free from me and the NCR, but she didn't say what she was doing." Chomps put his elbows on the table, and let his chin rest in his hands. His eyes were watering, I noticed. Had his wife run away- wait, no, she was dead. His daughter then?

After a few seconds of silent tears, he stiffened his upper lip and sat back up. When he spoke, you could hear the tears.

"I'm worried about her, is all. Her mother did the same thing when she was that age, and that's how she met me, so I guess I should be happy for her- but it just ain't the same world it was all those years ago. I don't want to have my daughter disappear out there in the wasteland. I just love her so damn much..." Chomps started crying again, and Gram gave him a sympathetic squeeze.

So it was a daughter, then.

I tried not to accidentally catch anyone's gaze- I felt bad for Chomps, but I didn't know him well enough to try and comfort him. Whenever I tried to comfort people who I didn't know, I'd just make things worse. So, I stuck to treating people's physical symptoms. I'd never learned very much about psychology.

"The worst part is knowing that it's my fault she ran away. After her mother died, I guess I clung to her a little too tight- I put limits on her that she didn't need, told her to stop talking with friends I didn't like. Looking back, it's so easy to see where I was wrong, but I was so scared of losing her that I was blind to how much I was hurting her. Or, maybe I did see it and I didn't care. It's hard to remember now..."

In the corner of my vision, I could see the two chefs emerging from the kitchen, carrying their platters of vegetables and roast Brahmin to the table. Chomps wiped his eyes, relaxed his posture, and tried not to look like he'd been crying as Cook and Jas set down the platters. I fought with myself to say something, to try to tell him that his daughter would be fine, because I knew I'd screw it up, but it was hard not to say something- the details were different, but it reminded me so much of what I'd done. Was this how my mom felt right now? Was she worried that I'd been done in, and that it was her fault?

Simmering with emotions, I stayed silent and watched Cook and Jas heap slices of beef and vegetables onto the assorted plates sitting around the table. I muttered my thanks to Jas as she served me two slices of meat and some unidentifiable vegetables. As was customary in the Saller household, I held off eating until everyone had sat down. The NCR soldier didn't even bother, slicing up his steak and spearing one of his vegetables as soon as the food was laid before him. He was the odd one out, actually- everyone else waited until Jas and Cook had sat, though only Jas and Chomps kept waiting even after that. As everyone prepared to eat, Chomps cleared his throat, and all eyes fell on him. He looked like he had recovered somewhat, but I still felt uneasy seeing him get ready to speak so soon after all that emotion. Was he gonna start crying again?

"Now, I know that most of you don't believe in any sort of God- I have to admit, I've had my doubts too. But, I was raised to say a prayer before I eat, and I intend to carry on the tradition until the day I die. I invite everyone here to pray with me if you know the words, or give a silent prayer if you don't. We haven't necessarily been lucky here in Sloan lately, but let's all tell the lord how grateful we are for what we've still got..."

I didn't believe in god- still don't, probably never will- but I ain't no asshole neither, and I was pretty sure I knew the prayer that he was talking about. My father had read the Bible with me as a kid, because he was a big fan of Jesus and all that, and the McBain's had taught me the dinner prayer when I stayed with them for a while. So, calling on knowledge that I hadn't used in years, I put my hands together, bowed my head, and started talking with God.

"Bless us, Oh Lord…" Chomps began. Jas, the NCR soldier and I recited it with him, while Gram had his own silent prayer. Cook just looked annoyed the whole way through.

"... and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord." Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Amen," Said Chomps. I nodded.

"Amen!" we said, and then a huge chunk of the wall exploded inwards in a shower of rocks, wood, and pink-insulation foam, peppering us all with debris. Everyone sat in shocked silence as the dust cleared, and a massive white deathclaw appeared in the hole.

Yeah, well, fuck you too, God! Don't suppose you're offering prayer-refunds these days?

[+]

[crawl-out-through-the-callout]

Fallout 4 Mods on PS4

So I made a list of all the mods I have active on my current file. In doing so I found some I need to, uh, change or that are redundant, but I can still fully endorse any of these mods. For context, I have the Season Pass, I'm on the PS4 and usually play on Very Hard. The balance feels okay in that it's never outright impossible but situations vary wildly from easy and hilarious to drain-the-blood-from-your-face levels of oh shit. I can also safely say this is the prettiest mixture of mods that I've ever had. Anyway, the mods:

Armor and Weapon Keywords Community Resource (AWKCR) (PS4: All DLC) Creator: Valdacil Notes: Important. For everything. Seriously.

USO Base Game (core component of Unlocked Settlement Objects) USO Season Pass USO Mashups Creator: ANDREWCX Notes: Good for people like myself who spend entirely too much time decorating settlements.

Integrated Commonwealth Creator: ANDREWCX Notes: Actually makes the DLC kind of mixed with the main region instead of this weird, walled-off land you can only really tell your other companions about.

[PS4] SimpleGreen - SimpleSeasons 'Spring' [PS4] SimpleGreen / SimpleYellow / SimpleRed (Nuka-World Plugin) Creator: ANDREWCX Notes: I know it's fall and all, but it's been 200 years and plants are vicious little buggers. If nothing else, Boston should be drowning in kudzu.

[PS4] Cages Overhauled & More Creator: 3lric Notes: Kidnap and adopt local faction members, synths, and creatures, and get robot settlers that work.

[PS4] Overgrowth, Immersive Living Forests And Grasslands [PS4] Overgrowth, Far Harbor Creator: MisterOverseer Notes: -and sure, the bombs in Fallout are supposed to be crazy strong, and it's not like people have stopped using nukes there since the Great War, but if people can live there, plants certainly should be. And Nagasaki and Hiroshima look just fine today. It's been way longer in Fallout.

Reverb And Ambiance Overhaul -  ALL DLC [PS4] Creator: Mm137 Notes: The reverb sometimes sets back to max at odd intervals - I usually keep it at around half - but it makes the audio blend into the various settings so much better. You'll be less eager to throw an explosive in that pipe you're standing in, but it's more immersive and just sounds nice. The radio echoing off of old walls in abandoned rooms is especially nice.

[PS4] Eli's Tweaks and Fixes All-In-One Creator: TheRealElianora Notes: So, so many of these bugs needed this. Water, power, and defense go up more per their sources, weights have been altered, you can get a new molerat disease cure by befriending Curie and gathering a bunch of stuff, and more unique game items don't get dropped into the 'junk' category - like MacCready's toy soldier.

[PS4] Water Redux Creator: lamanise Notes: Looks good. Like, so good. The water is changed based on what kind of body of water it is and whether or not it's stagnant.

Limited Minutemen Quests [PS4] Creator: Chucksteel Notes: Poor, sweet Preston. He didn't ask for that overwhelming sense of duty, and this mod helps the both of you out. You won't be constantly getting asked to help settlements (or failing the quests when you don't immediately jump on them) and he gets to relax a little.

[PS4] OCDecorator Creator: Ethreon Notes: For placing all those little objects in your settlements without worrying about a settler making them explode into an interior decorating disaster.

Time Scale changed from 20 to 6 [PS4] Creator: StormLord Notes: Longer days, longer nights. Makes keeping track of in-game time easier and more immersive without outright breaking any quests.

Peaceful Radstags Creator: Ash1597 Notes: No more bloodthirsty companions running off to murder the local wildlife for, uh, existing.

Loaded Loading Screens Creator: PoppaMcNikap Notes: Funniest mod by far, is even better if you're familiar with the original ones. Had actually made me laugh out loud sometimes.

Be smol (p small) NO DLC! [PS4] Creator: Drhamm Notes: I'm short. I like my character being short, too. Only makes some animations (like putting a fusion core in Power Armor) look silly at its worst, is otherwise very immersive.

Sanctuary No More Hammering Creator: Djpudz Notes: Sweet, sweet relief for your ears and for the settlers' arms. It's not like they were doing anything except aggressively hitting buildings anyway.

[PS4] Restore Barney Rook mission Creator: Abates Notes: Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy is this such a paaaaaaaaain. C'mon, Barney, you've been here for how long and you're gonna die as soon as you since I'm within three miles? Dude.

Plenty 'O' Exploration - PS4 - New Interiors And Exteriors To Explore! BETA Creator: DangoSan Notes: Lots more story and many more locations to check out. Blends in well with the vanilla setting - to the point that looking at the list now, I'm surprised by how many of these locations I thought were just a part of the game to begin with!

Power Conduits Radius Increase And No Build Limit - All DLC [PS4] Creator: StormLord Notes: Settlements no longer end up 60% wiring, 40% building.

The Beantown Interiors Project [PS4] Creator: Chucksteel Notes: Love me some new places to explore. There were too many boarded-up buildings, anyway. This one even adds some to Far Harbor and Nuka-World!

Colzie's Place Doors Anywhere Mod Creator: Colzie Notes: Doors are nice. The Wikipedia page for walls says, "Doors are mobile walls on hinges which open to form a gateway." Which, I mean, I guess is true. I can't say it's wrong.

NSA No Settlement Attacks  (Base Game + DLC) PS4 Creator: Djulisa Notes: The only part of the vanilla game I actually dread. Settlement attacks never seemed to really care what your defense was at or where you were, but now you can escape that responsibility.

The Castle Revamp [PS4] Creator: FelloutIsLife Notes: Has that annoying problem where the debris sometimes respawns, but the fixes to the wall (and the free materials from scrapping that debris) are worth it.

[PS4] Luminus Workshop Lights Creator: ShanicTheOatMeme Notes: No more streetlamps that give off the light equivalent to that of a candle! Works and looks great with mods to change the brightness of nights.

Vault 88 - Restored Lighting - Rad Scanners - Turrets [PS4] Creator: StormLord Notes: The first area in the Vault looks crummy and is a pain to fix/work around...Until now. This mod fixes all that.

Immortal Cats - PS4 Creator: GenaTrius Notes: I really like cats. That's all I have to say about this one.

D.C. Glory Expansion Pack 1 Light [PS4] Creator: SlacksNawfside Notes: The Great Green Jewel sure as hell doesn't look like one...Until now. My poor system doesn't like the full version of this mod, but the Light one still looks lovely and makes it feel like a settlement worthy of the name.

TenPines Bluff Settlement Overhaul Ps4 Creator: Undernier Notes: Went here at too low a level. Gonna have to come back. The settlement itself still functions regardless but the nearby quest can be pretty dangerous. Look out for the minefield.

Power Line Physics [PS4] Creator: Cdante Notes: Because that's what a Bethesda game needs. More physics. (No, but really, it looks nice.)

Stumble Upon Interiors [PS4] Creator: Chiaro22 Notes: More things to explore? Yes, please. Some of these are actually really cool, and all of it blends in well with the vanilla game.

Consumables Overhaul - PS4 Creator: Aaronc53 Notes: Because food should matter, and cooking it should matter more. Works well with mods that decrease stimpak quantities.

No Build Limit - No DLC [PS4] Creator: StormLord Notes: Oh, no. This is here twice, sort of. Aw, shi-

Fizztop Grille Workshop - PS4 Creator: Mk221 Notes: Gage did say Colter had some peculiar taste, and I agree. I'm just gonna push everything off the top of the Fizztop and put in my own stuff.

Workshop Decorations Pack Creator: Astlem Notes: Probably one of my favorite mods ever. The bookshelves can have books, tables can come with clutter, desks look like they're in use...It's all so, so good.

Insignificant Object Remover Creator: AKcelsior Notes: Helps with frames, is generally comforting. Tucks you in at night and reads you a story.

[PS4] STS - Scrap that Settlement (Base Game) (+dlc addons) Creator: 3lric Notes: Doesn't let you scrap everything, but it sure lets you scrap a lot. There's this one makeshift structure on Spectacle Island that gets on my nerves, but I can't think of anything else I've had issues with since getting this mod.

UCO Base Game (core component of Unified Clothing Overhaul) (+season pass) Creator: ANDREWCX Notes: Very important. Very nice. Lets you upgrade, recolor, and wear armor in all kinds of ways.

DLC Ammo Leveled Lists Creator: Worlds Notes: Adds DLC ammo and weapons to other level lists, rearranges what drops when.

NPC Pipboys for PS4! Creator: Batta0909 Notes: Looks cool. That's about it.

(DLC) Companion Combat Overhaul Creator: Haighter Notes: A different mod that changes up perks for companions and actually makes them, you know, hit their targets. Their base clothing is also a little better. Also makes every other Courser a little harder thanks to the boost to the Courser Uniform X6 wears.

Superb Settlers [PS4] Creator: LilleMats90 Notes: Settlers actually show up with some gear, which makes sense since they're been getting by on their own 'til now.

NPCs are not Cartoons AIO  -vBy Drhamm [PS4] Creator: Drhamm Notes: Companions look a little less unsettling. Plus, why do these twenty-year-olds look forty? Radioactive problems or not, it's creeping me out.

PS4 Shut. Your. FACE. Creator: Random.Encounter Notes: Why does every NPC feel the need to yell at me?! I'm JUST TRYING TO LIVE MY LIFE.

[PS4] Dogs not Brahmin Creator: ANDREWCX Notes: No more Brahmin cornering you in settlements or spawning on your roof. Besides, the Commonwealth could use more dogs, right?

Equilibrium: Weapons (Balance Fixes) Creator: Alexananiev Notes: Pros: Your pipe pistols are no longer useless. Cons: Enemy pipe pistols are no longer useless.

M.C.O.R. - Main Character Outfit Redux Creator: Sargeschultz Notes: One time I accidentally scrapped Kellogg's Outfit and broke my own heart. Never again.

Buffed Minutemen Militia 2 [PS4 Version] Creator: Dragonovith Notes: If I'm gonna be the general, you can bet your ass I'm training and equipping you...Or this mod can do it for me. Squads summoned by the flare gun (I'm not sure I've ever done that?) also have a squad leader, which is a nice touch.

Companions In The Institute Creator: Ash1597 Notes: I get lonely, okay?

Companion Perks (PS4)-DrNewcenstein Creator: DrNewcenstein Notes: Gives companions lore/backstory-based perks, which is pretty cool.

Ranged Robotics Hack Creator: Djulisa Notes: Re-breaks this perk into the funniest thing to bring into the Mechanist questline ever. Make robots explode at a distance by aiming your gun at them, then hacking from however far you are. Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

More Map Markers - PS4 Creator: Mogomra Notes: Because it's nice to know where you're going - and where you've been.

Slower Respawn Rate Creator: Sway4829 Notes: I like feeling like I'm actually having an effect on the Commonwealth, like clearing out a location matters. This lets me pretend.

[PS4] Deliverer Mark2 Creator: Areis3020 Notes: I love Deliverer. I usually grab the Mark2 at ~level 60 or so and use the regular one until then.

1st Person Animation Tweaks [PS4] Creator: Thedust01 Notes: Mostly lets your character chill out when moving around instead of constantly pointing their gun at everything all of the time. Don't be so paranoid, Sole, it's not like everyone you've ever known is de-oh.

Vender Diversity Overhaul [PS4] Creator: Hroun Notes: Vendors should matter, right? Right.

NPC Loot Drop Rebalance [PS4] Creator: Hroun Notes: Fewer enemies carrying stimpaks, adds more variety and character to the various factions. Maybe this file won't end up with 200+ stimpaks (but it probably will)

No Legendary Items from Creatures [PS4] Creator: Hroun Notes: Why did that Mirelurk have a gun, anyway? It'd be cool if it was jutting out from one of its claws from someone it had killed before, or something, but no. It just has a gun. This fixes that.

Sanctuary Hills SP Rebuild [PS4] Creator: SpiritPixie Notes: C'mon, Codsworth, you've been cleaning for 200 years and this is what it looks like? No way.

Silent Stealth Field [PS4] Creator: AlpineYJ Notes: Bweeep. Bwooo. Bweep. Bwooo. Bweep. Bwooo. Every. Single. Time. You move. NO MORE.

Loyal Gage [PS4] Creator: Sway4829 Notes: I just wanna keep my trash friend, okay? I love Porter, but I also really love shooting the Nuka-World Raiders in the face. Or in the back, in this case.

Pipboy Light To Spotlight Creator: Ska00l Notes: Provides a bigger light than similar mods while still remaining more immersive than the vanilla light, which apparently turns you into a beacon or something.

[nuclearmu5hroom]

@raythrill and @itsmesaberaltered asked me more about my shit children so here we go   (thank you for asking :) )

  1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

Michelle 'Chell' Elizabeth Holoway (don't judge she's named after me cause I'm not original, only the last name is different). She was named after her grandmother (cause I will be in my upper 80s in 2077)

Drake Michael Fenring. The middle name was his fathers but the first name was taken from his family's crest.

 2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

 Both of them hold Doctorates; Drake's has a PhD in Biology and Psychology and Chell holds one in Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. Both attended CIT. 

 3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? 

Chell's favorite memories are of New Years Eve and her Oma would let her drink and she taught her all the good German drinking songs. Worst memories include being assaulted in elementary school by the other kids

Drake can barely remember anything from childhood, but he remembers his first 'invisible man' model which fascinated him when he was 4 or 5. His worst memory was when he was invited to a classmate's birthday party and they got cooler toys than he had which caused panic attacks.

 4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?

Chell didn't really have any problems with her parents. She clashed with her Mother when she got older but got along well with her Dad. They would go to Maine to visit family from time to time and went camping that whole schtick.

Drake had a very impersonal relationship with his folks but you wouldn't really know it since he hid it so well. He just didn't really have the capability to care beyond the things that he needed or wanted. His parents were very home-centered and didn't go places or take him to do things most of the time.

  5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

Chell had an older sister, Erin, who left to study abroad in France and ended up staying there permanently. She was very close with her and the fact that she never got to say goodbye to her dear sister is a huge weight for her.

Drake is an only child and if he wasn't he absorbed his twin in utero.

 6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Chell was kinda shit at school; got in trouble a lot for talking back, minor acts of vandalism, truancy but in the subjects she did like she was leagues ahead. Her favorite subjects were English Lit, Sociology, Life Sciences, Small Engine Repair/Metal Shop, and History. Hated Gym/Health and the sheer amount of homework that her Math teachers gave her.

Drake was Valedictorian, High Honors, NHS kinda kid. Excelled in most of his subjects but particularly enjoyed Biology and Science, Math, and Sociology. Disliked Gym, Study Halls and Lunch.

 7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? 

Chell tried. She was goofy as fuck when she was growing up and it didn't work out so well for her. She had difficulties making lasting relationships.

Drake pretended to be friendly and well liked but only when he knew he could use it to advance. In any regard, he worked/studied too hard to even really want any friends.

 8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

Chell had cats when she lived with her parents, but opted out since keeping pets was expensive as a college student. Post War though she has Dogmeat and Daisy whom she bought from Gene.

Drake finds their insides fascinating.

  9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? 

Chell’s got this weird drunken Snow White vibe with the animals of the Commonwealth going on. She loves and protects Radstags and will usually keep some corn or razorgrain on her just to feed them if she ever comes across them. Hates the bugs though, Christ they got big and ugly....

Drake would rather prefer to stay away from them if it can be helped unless he needs to use them.

 10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

Chell never really wanted to be a parent, she kinda got knocked up accidentally but she embraced it and she wanted to be a good mom. When Shaun was abducted she thought her life was over. When she found out who her son turned out to be it changed her pretty profoundly. Then when Synth!Shaun came around she was really unprepared but tried to make the best of it. Shaun has his own room back in Sanctuary all decked out with all kinds of toys and posters. She’s a pretty absent parent though unfortunately. Being General means that she’s Mother to all 400,000 settlements. She asked Preston and Curie to be Shaun’s godparents/foster parents and she just comes blowing in every now and then like the drunk aunt.

Drake doesn't want kids but I think we can all guess that by now.

 11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

Nope. Although if you get canned meat anywhere near Drake you’re gonna end up wearing it.

 12. What is their favourite food? 

As previously mentioned in the last ask, Chell’s favorite food is razorgrain oatmeal with tarberry or mutfruit. Something about its very comforting to her and it lasts a long time. She also makes great Radstag stew (its rare she ever makes it though since she won’t kill them unless they’re suffering)

Drake has an affinity for meat, the rarer the better. He won't touch anything other than Brahmin or Radstag though.

 13. What is their least favourite food?

Both of them are completely disgusted by anything that comes off the gigantic fucking bugs in the Commonwealth. Chell will at least attempt to if she's absolutely starving life or death, but will most likely throw up. Drake won't even look at it. He also hates Cram, Salisbury Steak or the Potted Meat that's available too.

 14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?

Nate used to take Chell out frequently before the War; they were regulars at the Drumlin Diner for a few months after she came home from Anchorage.

Drake was a member of the Boylston Club and most likely would've drank the poisoned wine had he not been in taken as a POW when the bomb fell.

 15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Chell is an excellent cook and is even better when she's really high. If she's at the Castle or Sanctuary she will often offer to cook for everyone all night if she can.

Drake is also not terrible, although he prefers to have someone else make his food for him.

 16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? 

Chell can't seem to let go of the notion that she still needs prewar money so she'll snag every dollar she can. Turns out that its worth more than caps anyway so she'll spend it just like she used to. She also will snag any and all toys to bring back to Shaun (and maybe keep one or two for herself)

Drake collects....parts...of people...

 17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

Neither of them are very comfortable in front of a camera although Chell could be convinced if you ask her nicely and she's not feeling as insecure.

 18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

Chell loves comic books, sci fi, fantasy stuff. Even though she didn't think so at the time, her issue of Gronak that was still on her counter at home in Sanctuary was a major comfort to her. Musical tastes vary but she's really into Swing and Rockabilly. She didn't really watch much TV but fuck if she doesn't jam on Zeta Invaders every night.

Drake goes for classical literature and pours himself into anatomy books (they're like porn to him).  Most conventional media disinterests him, but sometimes enjoys classical music (Wagner is probably his favorite if he had one)

   19. What’s their least favourite genres?

Chell hates pop country music. Drake has too many to list but its mostly everything. He particularly despises romance or love songs.

 20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?

Chell actually gets kind of uncomfortable with musicals in a second hand embarrassment kind of way, but she loves music, cant live without music and has an extensive library of music that was loaded onto a holotape that fortunately survived throughout the years. She doesn't hesitate to dance when her jam comes on and often blasts music while she's fighting to keep her from focusing too much on the fact that she's killing people.

Drake would never admit to it but he does admire most musical actors. Music is often played while hes researching and he finds it stimulating.

 21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

Chell's patient with most people, but loses it around the BOS pretty quickly. She's slow to anger but once the switch is flipped she won't really hesitate to put a bullet in your head for the inconvenience. I'd say you could ask the people in Covenant but they're all dead so...

Drake's temper is short. He's mostly irritated all the time as it is but once he's proper angry there is one of two reactions. One being in his rage he'll stab you as many times as he possibly can, the other being so angry that he freezes and leaves but this might be worse because he'll find someone who can't defend themselves to take it out on.

 22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

This is a hard question to answer really because context is important. Drake constantly insults everyone he thinks is dumber than he is (which in his eyes is actually everyone). His insults are personal, hand selected daggers that tend to cut to the deeper insecurities of a person.  Chell would like to know who glued pubes to Elder Maxson's face and buy them a beer. She'll also use 'babyface', 'kid', 'Junior', 'Micro Maxson', 'limp dick', 'shit heel' etc, etc, etc....  

 23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

The drawback of doing so many chems is that Chell's short term memory is kinda shit. She's still having a hard time adjusting to life in the Commonwealth so she can go faceblind occasionally unless there is something very particular about you that she can make note of.

Drake has an excellent memory however this is limited only to after his incident in Russia. He has a difficulties remembering parts of his life before the event. 

 24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

Both wake up frequently with nightmares although Chell's gets better if she's romanced. She carries her own sleeping bag for the road and prefers to sleep as far away from ground level as she can. If she got really drunk the night before she tends to snore a little haha. It doesn't matter what surface if she's tired enough, which is all the time.

Drake's a primadonna when it comes to the surface on which he sleeps. If there's no bed he just won't. He only ever really sleeps for 2 or 3 hours at a time anyway.

 25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

Chell's pretty entertaining I'd say. She tends to pull her personality from whomever she's with at the time in order to fit in better so if she's around Deacon or Hancock (or Elijah ^-^) there's an abnormal amount of asshattery going around. She teases Nick and Preston relentlessly but its in good humor. Piper and Mac don't quite get her humor really since she makes a hell of a lot of references to old world things. She has a lot of snark for Danse.

Drake finds humiliating people great fun. He enjoys watching them become uncomfortable and waits for them to start stumbling over their words before he becomes mean. When tables are turned though hes a spoiled sport and will sulk or lash out at whoever's trying to joke with him.

 26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? 

Chell does all of the above. Sing, dance, generally silly. She's affectionate as heck and hugs and kisses everyone.

Drake is the one that hides as much as he can.

 27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

Chell is an emotional creature and cries when warranted. She doesn't like to display this in front of people though and withdraws. She will lie to you if you ask her if she's ok.

Drake doesn't have much empathy towards others but he despairs if he finds himself in a position where he has no control over any aspect of a situation. When he's afraid, he will cry, and he cries ugly.

 28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

Chell's fear is losing everyone she loves again. If her companion falls in combat she often acts very stupidly to rush to them and save them.

Drake's fear is humiliation and failure. If hes confronted by someone stronger willed than he is hes filled with dread and will find any excuse to leave their presence. If he cant, he panics and cries.

 29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? 

Chell is definitely protective of this information and only teases Deacon and his fear of heights.

Drake will actively try to find out what those fears are so he can exploit you and get you to do something you normally wouldn't.  

 30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Basically living post war is an endurance challenge in and of itself so there's no real need for either of them to exercise, however Chell can go for hours under the sheets ;)

 31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

Chell's drunk like maybe a 3rd of her waking life. She's pretty high functioning and its a whole lot of fun whether or not she's drunk. She gets pretty handsy more so than normal so *grabby grabby*

Drake prefers to abstain completely.

   32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

Pre war, Chell went for comfortable; jeans, t-shirt, sweatshirt and usually had her hair pulled back out of her face. Post war, she sticks with practical and light, outfits that can afford her the most dexterity. Bedtime is usually just a tank top and undies (or nothing). No make up ever.

Pre war Drake preferred higher end made garments, often custom tailored. Post war, he is severely disappointed in the variety (?) of choices so he tends to stick with either his SRB uniform or just a simple lab coat. Drake doesn't feel comfortable enough above ground to change into other clothes. 

 33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?

(WOOOO)

Chell WISHES she had more exciting undies but she's just thankful she has the ratty ass bra and panties she found at Fallon's. Sometimes if

Drake wears black boxers.

 34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?

Chell is 5'4" thin but not unhealthy. She has no problems with the size of her body but she's self conscious of the scar on her face.

Drake is 5'7" and lean due to a high metabolism and preference for proteins over carbs.  He hates his physical form and really just can't wait to get it over with.

 35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

 Chell definitely feels guilty about the amount of chems she does. She knows its destroying her but they feel good and she cant get busted by the fuzz anymore. Her unguilty pleasure though is probably her sexual appetite which she has no shame in whatsoever.

Drake doesn’t quite get the concept of personal guilt per se because that would mean he cares about what other people think about him. He is starting to recognize the fact that people and livestock have very similar cuts of meat.

 36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

Chells ok at singing, she does it for fun most of the time. She’s very good at cooking chems and makes some of the best in the Commonwealth.

Drake would probably be good at taxidermy if he applied himself but he feels most hobbies are a waste of time.

 37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?

Chell likes to read but doesn't have much time for it to be honest. She sticks to comic books and the old covert manuals that she finds laying around. It doesn't take her long to get through a full sized novel though, she just wishes she could stay still long enough to pay attention.

Drake reads pretty regularly if he can; usually old text books if they’re still intact. His favorite Fiction is Dante’s Inferno and carries a copy with him during his down time. 

 38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

Chell admires people who see the value of being free to live the life they want, rather than how others want them to live it. 

Drake can admire someone who can be cruel with little or no effort. The more ruthless, the better 

 39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? 

Chell likes love letters cause she’s sappy and appreciates a handwritten thought.

Drake doesn't want anyone to communicate with him so none. 

 40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

Coffee for both; Chell HATES Nuka Cola but loves snack cakes and sweet rolls. Drake is the only one who can function without any kind of stimulant so he only drinks coffee if hes in the mood.

 41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

Chell’s bi/pan, not picky about looks considering she has her own self esteem issues. She’s attracted to kind people, people who like to cause trouble, and people who can hang out and indulge in mind altering substances

Drake is Gay/Aro. hes attracted to pretty men younger than he is. He tends to look for people who are naturally submissive but he abhors the idea of a relationship. Its too much baggage for him to care anything about.

 42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

Chell’s ultimate goal is to secure a place for people to live without having to worry if they’re going to die the next day and to rebuild her own life.

Drake’s is to replace all the incompetent idiots with higher functioning Synths but some dumb blonde bitch had to fuck it up.... 

 43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

Chell had studied the occult as a teenager since it ran in her family and she tried to learn as much as she could about other culture’s mythos. Nowadays though that faith is pretty shaken since the bombs and Shaun and all that.

Drake hates the idea of God. There is no salvation, there is no divine intervention. There is life, and death, and the pain in between.

 44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? 

Both prefer it to be cooler. Hate the heat cause heat sucks and who wants to be sticky and sweaty all the time?

 45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? 

Chell tries hard to get people to like her, she seeks validation often. She sometimes feels like she’s being annoying or bothers people too much. She would like to hope that others see her as a kind and loving person though.

Drake is a monster and he knows it and is completely unapologetic. He doesn't care what others think about him as long as they do what they’re told.

 46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

Chell can be awkward at first until she gets to know you and can match your personality better. Sometimes this doesn't translate well and she comes across as disingenuous or lacking in her own personality. If its your first time meeting her she will use her title as General to introduce herself (or codename depending if you have your Geiger counter or not)

Drake isn't friendly but he stays neutral so long as he doesn't have to interact with you too much. Its the most misleading thing about him since he can come across as “that nice guy from the office” all too well.

 47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

Chell gets real bored at fancy parties, preferring to tear it up with the dregs of society better. Rich people pay good money for chems though so she’ll sometimes try to squeeze a few more caps out of them to invest in her settlements.

Drake actually somewhat enjoys the status of attending high class events, believing himself to be amongst peers of his caliber. He still doesn't like interacting much though and will often stay by the sidelines and observe.

 48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? 

Chell throws the BEST parties. Most of the time they’re held in Goodneighbor but occasionally on major holidays the big settlements like Starlight, The Castle, and Sanctuary go all out too with open pit BBQ and lots of beer and liquor and music and dancing.

Drake sometimes wishes he could allow himself to feel that kind of revelry but dismisses that thought as soon as it forms. He has work to do and why on earth would he want to associate with the squabble?

 49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

Chell has a baby picture of Shaun that she keeps close to her as a reminder of what used to be. It might not have always been the best for her but the late nights being up with the baby were bittersweet and she knows she’ll never get that time back.

Drake keeps two teeth, an incisor and a molar, with him at all times but he’ll never show anyone. These came from his first test subject in Anchorage.

 50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

Chell takes her sleeping bag, her Deliverer, a change of clothes, some prewar money, a knife, 3 of each chem, a bottle of Whiskey, some left over steak and her headphones.

Drake takes his 10mm, a knife, a book or two, and some questionable looking meat.

[illidria]

Fallout (5)

“You aren’t the chatty kind, huh?”

They’d found an overall that fit him, a few pieces of combat armour and gave him a pistol, ridiculously small-looking on him, that he could fire one-handed. Strapped a backpack to him and led him out of this shithole of a cell. Out of the city even and when he’d expected them to shackle him to their belt, they didn’t. He’d followed, intrigued. Maybe they needed him as a pack-brahmin for one of their loot-stashes?

The black-haired man with the slicked-back curls was Karley, the blonde one Henschel. And they treated him like he wasn’t a dangerous Raider with a loaded weapon and his hand free. After many miles of walking over those roof-walkways, they’d struck up a conversation and apparently Karley was somewhat keen on him joining in.

“There didn’t seem to be many people wanting to talk with me in my cell.”

He expected the man to get angry at his disrespectful tone, but noticed with surprise that both were chuckling.

“Yeah, well. When Miles says no, we usually obey. He’s not the Sir, but for him to intervene with anything at all is so rare, that we take it to heart most of the time. As long as it doesn’t clash with the Sir’s order at least. Gets dangerous when you have to pick a side.”

Talking with them might prove to be a good distraction, could give him an advantage when they arrived at their destination.

“That Miles’s a scary dude. Seemed way more the boss to me, than that blonde woman.”

It was Henschel answering him, voice sterner than Karley’s, yet with a hidden humour.

“The Sir’s training and steering us all in the right direction, but rather fond of having us figure out the details on our own. Miles is usually on boat with that, but for some reason just really doesn’t like you. Can’t remember an occasion in which he’d so openly said that bringing in someone is a bad idea.”

“Maybe said some shit about that boss-lady that he heard.”

He tried to sound apologetic, but wasn’t feeling it. She’d shot off his arm and if things went his way, she’d pay with more than just being called a bitch for that.

The men answered with quiet laughter.

“That explains everything!”

Karley had a twinkle in his eye, his grin pulling the skin of his face and neck tight. You could see a fine scar over his throat.

“He’s extremely protective of her. It’s been just them for a very long time, so you gotta understand.”

He harrumphed upon this new information, wondering what to do with it, how it could aid him in his quest for revenge. Fighting with this Miles-guy, seemed like a bad idea to him. Yet, he wanted to keep the men in this good mood, carrying on the conversation.

“Tell me, is it normal for you guys to get people into your fold by kidnapping them?”

Keeping his tone jovial, trying to utilize his ability to lie convincingly, he was met with a stern and guarded gaze from Henschel. Knowing that this had been a misstep, that his intentions were at least partly exposed to one of his guards.

The man switched off any undertones, just being stern, even a tad bit threatening.

“You think someone getting you expensive medical treatment after an injury is kidnapping? You were a Raider, what did you think would’ve happened if the Sir had just left you laying outside with your wounds? We all heard the story, you were trying to loot with your gang, would’ve probs killed her for a few caps. Or found worse things to do to her. Everybody at the Wall would’ve rubbed some dirt into your wounds and left, so be happy it was the Sir and not one of us!”

Buccaneer had heard of the guys at Diamond Cities wall before. Smarter than Gunners, stronger than Raiders and more business-oriented than the Red Carawan. They had power-armour, powerful weaponry and a reputation that preceded them. Good or bad, depending on who you asked. And slowly he started to understand, what glued them all together, revelation hitting him.

“She picked you all from the dirties pieces of soil she could find, huh?”

Karley chuckled still, eyebrows raised, forelock swinging.

“Miles was always most irritated with her habit of bringing in strays.”

They wandered in silence after that, Buccaneer pondering. Watching the men before him, suddenly aware that they too, had once been what most thought of as scum. He’d seen the people in Diamond City greet them respectfully when they passed. When night fell, he dared to speak again, thoughts of running away forgotten for the moment.

“Where are we going?”

It was Karley that spoke again, Henschel motioning for them to keep their voices down.

“Not remembering the landscape? We’re on our way to your gangs hiding place.”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, a feeling of uneasiness sweeping over him.

“And what is the assignment?”

The words spoken sounded even darker, when said by the usually cheerful man.

“Get rid of the nest, with or without your help!”

[antiquechampagne]

Chapter 13

She could not spend all morning in the bathroom hiding from him. She knew that intellectually, but it didn’t make coming out any easier. She tried straightening her disheveled hair with her fingers after trying to find a brush, logic dictating that Hancock had no need for such devices. Eventually she made her way out and found him in his office eating breakfast, which happened to be grabbing Sugar Bombs straight out of the box and popping them in his mouth.

“Morning, Dreamer!” Payne rolled her eyes. She was wondering when he would find a stupid moniker for her… but of course, it had to be this. “Think your stomach can handle some food yet?” He shook the box in her direction. “Or would some of the hair of dog that bit ya be better?” On the table sat a half-full bottle of vodka. Payne’s guts rolled at both prospects and declined.

“Thanks for helping me out last night.” She rubbed her forehead; a headache seemed to building behind her eyes.

“Sit down and eat something. While you don’t look as much like shit, you still look horrible.”

Payne shook her head. “I have to get back to the Rexford…” Her mind tried to come up with a logical reason for leaving, but she came up empty handed.

“It’s 10 in the afternoon. You aren’t going anywhere.”

It took a second for his reasoning to percolate through the cotton fluff that had become her head, and then she realized he was right. She was still in the slinky Mistress of Mystery. Unless she wanted to reach her hotel room looking like a roast brahmin, she was stuck here.

“I got some of my guys on it. They should be back soon. Seriously, take a load off.” He nodded to the other couch. It groaned as Payne sat down and absent-mindedly rubbed her arms.

“What are those?” Hancock pointed to her arms and the two perfectly round scars visible on her upper arms, one placed above the other.

Payne turned her body, making them harder to see. “Scars.”  She sat silently, knowing he was not going to leave it at that.

“And…”

“They are the reason I don’t like doctors.” The tone of her voice made it extremely clear this subject was not up for discussion.

Fahrenheit knocked on the open doorframe to announce her presence. “Found one for ya, boss.” She walked over to Hancock, a plastic brush in hand. Hancock nodded in Payne’s direction.

Payne accepted it, nodding her thanks. She excused herself, again retreating to the bathroom but this time to straighten her hair.

“The guys should be back with her stuff in a few minutes. I’m surprised to see that dress still intact.” Fahrenheit said wryly.

“If only… she spent most of the night in the bathroom.”

“She couldn’t stand your ugly mug either?” she ribbed.

Hancock playfully threw a handful of colorful cereal at Fahr’s head.

“This came for you late yesterday on one of the supply caravans.” She handed him a crumpled note.

After a few minutes, Payne came back, cereal crunching under her bare feet. “What the hell?” She scowled at Hancock, who just smiled.

“When are the guys supposed to be back with my clothes?” As Payne sat down to pick crumbs off her heel, an idea hit her. “They didn’t go to the Rexford, did they?” Fahrenheit nodded. “Irma has my clothes; I changed at the Memory Den.”

Fahrenheit pursed her lips. “No wonder they are taking so long. I’ll go get them myself.” After she left, Payne watched Hancock as he finished reading the letter and put it down.

“What’s that about?” she asked.

“A possible opportunity for Goodneighbor.” Hancock tapped the table with his index finger as he mulled over the letter in his head. Suddenly, he turned to Payne and pointed. “You and me, we are going to take a little trip into the city.” He nodded to himself, confirming the plan in his head as he talked. “Should only take a couple of days. Tommy can put us up if we need it. Get out and have some fun.”

“Just the two of us? Why not take some guys with us… Fahr?” The thought of traveling with Hancock alone seemed like a really bad idea at the moment.

“Nah, the Combat Zone isn’t that far. Plus, the more people that tag along, the more attention we will attract. Fahr can stay back and take care of business while we are away.” Payne looked unsure. Hancock got up and walked behind the couch, putting his hands on her bare shoulders. “Don’t worry, Dream Girl, you job is just to make sure I get there and back in one piece. Besides, I have a feeling you are going to like it there… there is a huge stage to ham it up on!” He squeezed her shoulders playfully.

Almost on cue, Fahrenheit returned with a bag full of clothes in one hand and her helmet in the other.

“Thank God!” Payne sprang up, took her things and quickly dressed in the bathroom. She popped her head into the room where Hancock and Fahrenheit were talking about the upcoming trip for a quick good bye before making her exit down the staircase.

“Be ready in two days!” Hancock called as Payne closed the door and stepped out onto the street. The sunlight blinded her, even though the darkened visor of her helmet. As she headed towards the Rexford, she realized how hungry she was. She wanted something hot. Turning around, she went down to see if Charley had anything on for lunch that sounded good.

The Third Rail looked like a bomb went off; table and chairs askew, empty bottles and refuse stacked up everywhere. A few partiers were passed out in corners, slouched in odd painful positions. Charlie buzzed around, cleaning as he went about his Herculean task.

“Bugger off, we’re closed.”

Payne’s stomach growled. “How about this, Charley. I’ll make myself a little snack and in return, I’ll help you clean up a bit? Deal?”

Charley momentarily paused. “Deal.” He grumbled before returning to cleaning up a nasty mess on the stage.

Letting herself behind the bar, she grabbed a pan from the stove and looked around for ingredients to make something. She found a few things and started making herself mirelurk scrambled eggs with bits of tatos and Cram chunks. The smell wafted through the nearly still bar, causing a few of the crumpled leftover patrons to stir. One started to retch before being chased out by a very angry profanity spouting Mr. Handy.

Payne was surprised to see MacCready stumble out of the VIP room and slump down at the bar, glasses clinking as he shoved them out of the way as he sat.

Payne pushed a full steaming plate and a beer in front of him then served herself, proper herself up to eat sitting on the back bar.

“You’re still going to pay for that.” Barked Charlie from across the room. MacCready finally looked up and registered that it wasn’t a robot manning the bar, but Payne. He did a double take as his food and put the fork down.

“I am not going to poison you, for Christ’s sake.”

“How do I know what that is? Who knows what you could be making back there!” He was too hung over to yell, but the venom in his voice was clear.

Payne picked up the half-empty can of Cram off the stove and shoved it at him. “What the hell do you think I put in scrambled eggs?” MacCready turned up his nose at the gesture. “What is your problem, man? I’m just trying to be nice here.”

MacCready turned a wicked finger at her. “I saw what you did to that raider. That aint right, no matter where you are.”

“What exactly do you think I did?” MacCready looked down at the plate of food, smugly nudging it towards her.

“That guy had his throat torn out! You healed from a head wound in a day and walked through a nuke blast like it was nothing!”

“You think I am a fucking magic cannibal or something? I know I am a lot of things but I’m not a cannibal.” She was getting nowhere. “Look, I’m not here to fight with you, I just want something to eat and human flesh isn’t on the menu. You are welcome to have some too. I did what I had to do to get us out of that dead end situation. It’s your choice to never work with me again, fine. I saved your dumb ass. I didn’t have to. Get over yourself.” Payne silently went back to eating.

MacCready stewed at the bar, poking at his eggs with the fork. Eventually, the he lifted some to his mouth. Payne could not quite read the expression on his face.

“What now? What’s wrong with the eggs?” She was ready for another tirade.

MacCready finished his bite. “Nothing. Their fucking good eggs.” He said quietly. They both finished their plates, a kind of silent truce developing between them.