#the fallout of the previous posts

[thewolfisawake]

"That is quite the conundrum to present, Balmoral. If not knowing of the other realms, I would find it difficult to believe. Although likely it will be a while, preparation in case of landfall is help--"

The king interrupted, "It's already in the Unseelie."

"Excuse me?"

Despite his disdain for it, Balmoral repeated, "It's already in the Unseelie. It has been since we left to meet the Seelie. I was uncertain of what it was at the time. However, since Creation allowed us to know what it was like around something corrupted, I am now certain it is here. Plans for quarantine are to be made and to be executed immediately because of that."

"Ashes and dust, Bal, you could've started with that!" Norval cried.

"I am informing you now and awaiting suggestion."

"Our quarantine zone certainly can't be in the citadel. Despite the likelihood of most cases coming from here. Why not the settlements on the surface? They're technically the furthest from us."

"No," Risteard soundly rejected the idea, "we are entering the harvest season, which means there are an abundance of hands flocking to the surface. If there is an outbreak up there, it is simply going to spread with the supply lines. And we cannot cancel the harvest altogether lest we intend to end up bartering outside the Unseelie for those losses. Norval, do you have the settlement maps?"

"Aye, aye~" he went and pulled out large hoop and headed towards middle of the war room's table. With a crack of his fingers and a firm slam onto the surface, wooden structures cascaded. They reflected the elevations and ridges and, of course, the establishments that encompassed the Unseelie's influence. The citadel was its center point with spider webs of caverns leading this way and that towards various pockets that reflected their own form of civilization.

Norval quipped, "We are in a bit of bind though. No one's just going to offer up their place for us to set up. Especially if it's some plague that can affect all the races within Unseelie."

"Why would we need to ask when we have the Beautiful Tyrant to order the relocation where he so pleases?" Risteard remarked, earning an amused snort from Balmoral. It was an option but he wasn't looking to cause tension in a time they needed all the unity they could muster. His eye examined the various paths, recalling his days trekking through and the encounters during the unification campaign.

"...We could do the Demilune Spring," Balmoral spoke, looking towards where it should be, "We push the approval of establishment and set up priority constructs. Those that are sent there can help clear out...the remnants and any further projects within capability. Of course compensated for their work and returned home when the cure is administered to them."

Siubhan appeared pensive as she said, "While I am not against hitting two birds with a stone, I do believe we owe both our opponents and our folks a clean sweep before throwing them into a graveyard. Of course, I would lead that and will depart this evening so that we might have this underway quickly. We can discuss providing security at this new quarters when I return. Please excuse me, Your Majesty, everyone."

She didn't look to him but Balmoral understood her stance. She was an honorable woman, after all. The Demilune Spring had been a sight of one of many atrocities committed for the sake of unification. To Balmoral, it was a necessary sacrifice. To Siubhan, it was a loss of good folks under her care. He couldn't deny her wishing to honor them before it became a Corruption 'infirmary. '

"For now, we will have to deal with finding corruption ourselves," Risteard said, leveling a look knowing his arrogance, "since your participation is out of the question, Balmoral. The last thing we need is the king getting infected. Considering the magnitude of this, we'll have to call that one to start calculating a how we might do a locator spell, a barrier erected properly...teleportation possibly as well."

"If the Corruption allows that to go through," Solanine reminded as she filed her claws, "but they're more an authority than me so let's hope we have a shot so we don't have to lose too many troops for escort."

"...I shudder thinking how that's gonna go. This is already gonna be a tough sale as is," Norval said sadly. His eyes darted between his compatriots. They seemed to be in silent agreement before he continued, "....which is why, Your Majesty, we have to address the other matter at hand."

To that, Balmoral looked over the table at his generals. His eye narrowed. He knew there was other reason besides exhaustion why Mhoirbheinn hadn't been in attendance. It pained him to have to separate so soon after it had caused such a stir with his lover but it couldn't be avoided for long. Especially with the Corruption already going to be an issue. But this coming up when it did...it didn't sit well with the king. He grit out, "On with it then."

[tevintersnakes]

Lab tech brain compels me to ramble through my OC

[myxineye]

Zao from FO4 for sketch requests? I love hims very much

i want his jacket... it looks so comfy 😭

[dawllick]

Here, a doodle that will not be finished anytime soon

But this will also be me manifesting the whole

“It’s cold at night but the ghoul is warm bc radiation”

[typosandtea]

Nick Headcanon:

the reason he sits and drinks frequently is because he is losing / burning / evaporating coolant and its actually coolant in his glass.

[cannedpeachlover]

beating my video game son for views

[sirmanmister]

Real life has been kicking my ass lately so you know what that means!

“People don’t come out of that place alive.”

“I can imagine.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

Two soldiers stood on the end of a vertibird catwalk, watching the vehicle beside them warm up. One dragged on a cigarette and narrowed their eyes at the other through the smoke.

“I ain’t gonna kill him, Rhys,” Damien said. “He volunteered to come with me.”

“Because it’s his duty to babysit you,” Rhys shot back. “Danse is a good man, but he’s an even better leader, which means he isn’t going to let any member of his squad head into the Glowing Sea by themselves. He’s the type of man to die for something he believes in, and he believes in the Brotherhood. Not you.”

Rhys gave Damien a long, withering look, nostrils flaring like the very sight of Damien in an orange flight suit enraged him.

“Think about what it is you really want in there,” Rhys said carefully. “And then think about it again and decide if it's worth the life of a good man.”

Damien’s slight irritation at Rhys’ continued badgering rose abruptly into something far more pronounced. Damien could handle not being liked, but Rhys was toeing a very delicate line.

Damien’s intentions behind joining the Brotherhood were no secret, and Rhys was one of the few that knew more about them than anybody else. He’d seen Damien at the police station, biting back tears when they couldn’t give him any help with Shaun; he’d been in the room when Damien had met with Danse and Maxson and exchanged information on the institute for a place within their ranks. Rhys had known the stakes from the start.

“You’ve got a problem with the way things are, you can take it up with Danse,” Damien said through grit teeth. “I’m going in there with, or without his company.”

“You’ve got a deathwish.”

“Wanna join me?”

Rhys scoffed incredulously and gave Damien a pitying look. With a shake of his head, Rhys turned and marched back down the catwalk.

[grease-weasel]

fallout 4 babygirl doodles (three middle aged men and their adoptive son)

[x-enocyon]

I understand the appeal of the Miraak redemption arc, and I did at one time write a 40k fic about that exact premise, but a “they make each other worse” dynamic is calling to me this time around

[cosmic-ships]

Alright nice to see I'm not the only one who has a stroke while playing Fallout. Watching my fave fallout streamer/youtuber playing a challenge run where he can only use weapons and armor found in lunchboxes (modded to drop legendary weapons and/or armor) and he just seen a combat shotgun and out loud with his full chest, confidently:

shombat sotgun

[vault81]

created the first character sheet for my oc's! this one is for Jack! (i did end up just using a template in the end, i'll finish the one i made later)

[nekioka]

Headcanon: Even though Benny hasn’t read books that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t read stuff. In fact he reads a lot of magazines! That's why he actually knows more about Mr. House's history than Georgia does.

[tevintersnakes]

Some downtime doodles in my weekend

[falloutstasis]

Quest Continued: There’s a reason why I sing, so give it all

□ Defend and help out the people of Concord.

Concord, Massachusetts

There was still laser shot noises across Concord when they arrived. When the group of four rushed towards the town, the first thing they heard was MacCready's voice.

"Get away from my son!" He yelled out, grabbing the attention of one Special Forces soldier. From afar, he sniped the soldier, right on his head, popping it right off.

Kelsey ran in front of the others with Duality in hand, already ready to be used. "Duncan!"

His son, Duncan, spotted Kelsey and rushed towards her, hugging her as tight as he could. "Kelsey, my mom and brother-"

The poor boy was crying his eyes out and was scared out of his mind. Cassidy kneeled down to his level and so did Kelsey.

"Hey, Duncan." When she called out his name, Duncan looked at her.

"Stay with Cassidy, okay? He'll keep you safe. And we'll make sure your mom and brother are safe too."

He nodded and did his best to wipe the tears off of his face, but more just kept pouring in. "O-Okay."

"Come on, kiddo." Cassidy picked him up and rushed out of Concord with the remaining survivors as far away as he could.

As soon as the coast was clear, MacCready rushed towards the three, seeing now his son was safe and out of harms way. "Guys! Bad news!"

"Yeah, we can see that!" Hancock responded.

MacCready groaned and hushed Hancock. "Other than this mess! It's Deacon! He's in bad shape."

The minute she heard that Deacon is in trouble, getting in front of MacCready. "Where is he?"

"He's in the small coffee shop straight ahead, bleeding out on his shoulder. There's other people with him there that are helping him. But I figured that you can take a look at him better than most. I cleared the guys that are out there."

"We'll take of these punks here." Hancock said.

"Go take care of Deacon and the others!" Nick yelled, before joining Hancock and MacCready on the other side of the town.

"Thanks!" Driven by concern for Deacon, she rushed straight ahead. The trip didn't take much long and she turned the knob, noticing that it was locked. She knocked on the front door, instead of banging it.

"Hey! Open up! I need to get inside!" She yelled out.

Instead of the door opening, she was meet by a voice on the other side of the door. "N-No way! How do I know you're not one of those Special Forces assholes?!"

"I'm with Nick Valentine! Open up, please!"

She heard another voice. One she heard clearly and recognized very quickly.

"Let her in! She's a medic..." Deacon took a big risk on letting someone in the coffee shop, but when he heard it was Kelsey on the other side of the door, he had to let her in. He had trusted her enough through their adventures in the Capital Wasteland and her joining the Railroad.

As it turned out, one of the settlers in Concord opened the door and let Kelsey in. She quickly got in and heard the door lock behind her. When she turned to see Deacon, he had a cut piece of shirt on his shoulder that was tied and meant to stop the bleeding. Some blood had poured down, just a bit.

There were at least 5 settlers and Deacon trapped here in this coffee shop. Deacon was sitting against the wall to support himself. The blood was a bit dry on the wall, which told Kelsey at some point, Deacon was standing before he eventually sat against the wall.

Quickly, she kneeled down to loosen the piece of shirt and started apply antibiotics she grabbed from her bag.

"You look like shit." She joked, clearly worried and nervous within her features. She took off his white shirt and took a look at the wound. It was a laser shot right to the shoulder. Which she wasn't surprised, given that the weapons that the Special Forces were using were laser weapons. She wrapped fresh bandages on Deacon.

"Speak for yourself." He smiled weakly. "Hello to you too."

He winced when Kelsey tightened the bandage on his shoulder, but otherwise helped stop the bleeding. She helped Deacon put his shirt back on, got him seated on an empty chair, and looked at everyone around her.

"Is anyone else hurt?" She asked around the settlers. One approached her, a young female adult, who was previously standing next to a man that looked old enough to be her father.

"I have this cut..." She trailed off.

Kelsey stood up and checked the cut this woman had. It was on her palm, across her pinkie to her thumb. It wasn't deep, but it was better to get this fixed before it would get infected. As she wrapped a bandage around her hand, she figured it was best to ask questions.

"What the hell happened here?"

This time a man spoke out, the same one that was with the young adult a moment ago. He was handing out water and other drinks from the fridge to the reminding settlers in the shop. "I was with my daughter when it happened," He said pointing at the young adult.

"And out of no where, those military goofballs with laser pistols starts yelling at people. Saying that Concord need to be 'cleansed of their sins' and whatnot. Next thing we knew, one of them starts shooting at the settlers. I tried to get people near me to the shop. This guy," He pointed at Deacon, who smiled and waved. "Was the last one to get in my shop to make sure everyone got in. He got shot on the shoulder before he entered himself. I had to drag him by his foot to get him inside the shop."

"God." She murmured to herself. "If it's not one thing it's the other."

Deacon looked a little confused. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Goodneighbor got hit with these assholes." She explained, having to recall the memory a day ago. "They took four people there, including Hancock."

"Really?" Deacon couldn't believe it. This was too much of a coincidence. "Are they okay?"

"One didn't make it. But Hancock and three other people made it. I just saw him join Nick and MacCready to help Nora and the Minutemen."

She was done with the young women's wound. "Alright, finished. Let it sit for a day. After that, unwrap it and wrap it around with new bandages if you have any at home. Repeat that until you see that the wound is healing and isn't bleeding any more. Not one or the other."

She nodded. "I do. And thank you. I'm Jessica, by the way." She pointed at her father, the one who just explained the situation to her. "That person is my father, Joshua."

"You think you can stay here a bit longer?" Joshua asked. "I saw our medic get shot down and I'm sure there's people who need your help."

"Of course." She nodded. "Let's make sure this is over first." She pointed at the door, indicating the outside area of Concord.

One Hour Later

The group only had to wait an hour before she would hear something again. During that hour, the noise started to die down. Because it was so quiet, she heard several footsteps and voices that she could barely make out.

Kelsey pressed one side of her head against the door, still hearing some gunfire and laser fire. Once again, she scared by the door banging and with a loud gasp, she backed away from the door.

"Hey, it's Hancock! Nick, Preston, MacCready, and Nora are with me! Open up!"

Kelsey put her index finger to her mouth, indicating for everyone to stay quiet. She put one side of her head against the door again.

"Back away from the door now." She brought out Duality and turned it on with a twist, showing a bright purple glow in the fairly dark room.

She heard several footsteps, assuming that they backed away from the door, she slowly turned the knob and quickly raised Duality at Hancock.

Rightfully, Hancock backed away, not wanting to get cut by Kelsey's weapon.

As Hancock said, Nora, Preston, MacCready, and Nick were with him. She took a sigh of relief, lowered Duality away from Hancock, and lightly kicked the door open, letting everyone out of the shop.

"S-Sorry." Kelsey put Duality back on her hang bag. "Coast is clear guys."

"Thank god." One of the settlers says, getting out of the shop.

One by one, they got out of the building, returning with the rest of the settlers. The companions, Nora, and Kelsey went back in the shop to take a look at Deacon.

"Aw, look at this." He said, raising his good arm and shoulder. "Half of the gang is back together!"

Nora smiled, glad to see her friend is still in good spirits. "Glad you're still kicking it, Dee."

"Aw, Nora. You can't get rid of me that easily."

Nick asked, "How are you holding up, Deacon?"

"Well, I've been through worse. Getting shot by some military soldier with a laser weapon is not up there. They gotta do some serious changes if they want to be in my list of 'weirdest enemies to get shot at'. But thanks to my partner in crime over here," He pointed at Kelsey. "I'm feeling better than I was a couple of minutes ago."

Kelsey grabbed a chair and sat next to Deacon. "Oh boy, Deacon. I've got the weirdest news for you. About our new enemies."

Pretending to mentally prepare himself, he leaned against the chair. "Alright, Kels. Lay it on me."

"So you remember the Lone Wanderer right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And how I helped with the Enclave with the Brotherhood right?"

This time he slowly nodded. Through his sunglasses, he squinted his eyes at her. "Yyyeeeeaaah."

"Me and Nick have concluded that the Enclave may have something to do the rise of Special Forces." Kelsey said, seeing the mix of shock and confusion.

"Wait, wait, wait." He rubbed his face with his hand and adjusted his sunglasses to put them back on. "You also told me that the Brotherhood ransacked their base and destroyed it."

"Yeah. You're right. They're gone. It's a stretch, but the Enclave's influence may have something to do with Special Forces. I found an upgraded version of Autumn's laser pistol on a Special Forces earlier with Nick."

"We found that when we were at Pickman Gallery a few days ago saving Hancock and the citizens of Goodneighbor."

Deacon let out a big sigh of defeat, wide eyed behind the shades. "Well, shit. If this is the second time you ran into these guys, then I gotta let the boss know back at HQ. Can't take any chances if they are going around the Commonwealth like this."

Nick nodded. "Smart move. I should do the same with Diamond City. Mayor Moore should be in her office right now."

"I'll go with you, Dee." Nora said. "I need to check on Shaun and Codsworth first, if you don't mind."

He nodded, stood back up on his two feet, and dusted off some dirt he had on his shirt and jeans with his good hand. "Yeah, sure. I just arrived here to visit and check how you're doing. It's been a while, but I know you've been busy with the Minutemen."

"We should head back to Diamond City." Nick said. "And inform Mayor Jade about this."

"I've been wondering who was running Diamond City lately. I heard ghouls are allowed back in there again." Hancock held out the door for everyone in the shop.

"Yeah. That rule was implemented rather recently. Since January, I believe." Nick explained, recalling the night she gave an announcement to the people of Diamond City about letting Ghouls in the town.

"But not synths?" Kelsey asked.

"Aside from me, no. She's still working that out."

The group got out of the store, only to be meet with Cassidy. He still had Duncan in his arms. "General! Preston!"

Cassidy looked worried and upon closer inspection, it looked like he was holding something in one hand, while carrying Duncan on the other.

As Cassidy talked, MacCready took Duncan off of his hands and gave him a big hug.

"What's the matter, Cass?" Preston asked.

"Duncan said that a Special Forces soldier dropped this." He held one items. A dog tag, or better yet an NCR dog tag.

"This is an NCR dog tag." Cassidy said, holding it out in front of Nora and Preston.

"Wait, are you sure this is an NCR dog tag?" He asked, shocked that something was dropped among the chaos that happened in Concord. Even more so that it belonged to NCR. He had no idea how something from NCR ended all the way here to Boston.

"100% that is." Kelsey said, taking a closer look at the dog tag. "It says Daniel Contreras on it."

Kelsey couldn't help but feel that she's heard that name before. "Daniel...Daniel...Daniel..." She repeated the name over and over to see if anything rang a bell.

"You heard of that name before?" Nora asked, watching her walk off a bit from the group.

"I feel like I should have?" She questioned herself. "It's like right there..."

Kelsey would looked up in front of her, to see a crowd coming towards the group. "I'll think it over while I'll check up on everyone else."

"I'll help you." Cassidy walked right next to her. "I'm the Minutemen's medic."

"Cool. Let's get started."

Even with two medic's on board, it took almost all day to get to everyone that got hurt during the crossfire. It already took away all of her medical supplies on her end, but luckily Nora had lend her enough medical supplies that she wasn't using.

Surprisingly enough, not everyone was severely injured. Which meant that the Minutemen were doing a good job in protecting the people of Boston and Concord.

"Hey, Cassidy." Kelsey turned to Cassidy.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have the NCR dog tag?"

Cassidy threw the dog tag in her direction, seeing Kelsey catch it perfectly. "There you go. You'll probably do better with that dog tag than I do."

■ Defend and help out the people of Concord.

[psychotrenny]

I don't think "Fascist" is a very useful or accurate thing to call Caesar and his Legion (from Fallout: New Vegas) in the context of the game world itself. Like there are a lot of aesthetic similarities and basically all of their unironic real world fans are some sort of Nazi Nerd, but when talking about their place within the context of fictional post-nuclear Nevada it just doesn't work. Like Caesar's whole deal is that he's a Social Scientist who, living in a world that's been "blasted back to the Stone Age", figures that society must evolve through the same stages if it wants to properly return to modernity. The Legion is basically comprised of "Primitive Communists"* who've been forced into a Slave Society. His criticisms of the NCR boil down to them being a moribund remnant of/reversion to Old World Capitalism rather than something organically adapted to the post-Nuclear world. He repeatedly talks about how the Legion isn't meant to represent an ideal society but simply a stepping stone onto something better (the thesis that will clash with it's antithesis and evolve into a superior synthesis). His interactions with the Courier heavily imply that the Legion's Misogyny, Homophobia, Tech aversion etc. are much more tools of social organisation and control than values that Caesar personally holds. The Legion isn't just some band of mindlessly violent reactionaries but the product of very deliberate Social Engineering; a peculiarly post-nuclear sort of scientifically planned society

Now I'm not defending the Legion as a "good" choice or anything; Caesar's plan has a lot of problems, it's not hard to poke holes into and in terms of unadulterated cruelty The Legion is easily the most morally repugnant of the main factions. But the thing I really love about The Legion is how, within the specific context of Fallout's setting, it makes sense. Like once you really think about it you can understand why someone in Edward Sallow's position would arrive at these conclusions, and there are good reasons why (if you take your roleplaying seriously and don't treat the Player Character as an extension of yourself) someone living in this world might chose to side with him. The Legion may be terrible but it's not evil for the sake of evil; there's genuinely a compelling ideology behind it.

It's why I get sad when I see so many people dismiss them as the "dum dum fascist slavers" because there's so much more to them than that. Like I think the best part about The Legion is how ridiculous they first appear ("These raiders dress like Ben-Hur extras?????) but once you find out more about them then it all starts to click ("Oh I see their leader is trying to assimilate them into a distinct and alien culture in order to maintain their loyalty; severing their previous connections and giving them a whole new identity"). So it sucks to see so many people get caught up in the first part and never make enough connections to reach the second. Like in general, Fallout: New Vegas is very messy and flawed and yet it's full of all these interesting little nuances and I think that's worth appreciating it. It's why, time and time again, I keep walking down that dusty road

*in the very broad sense that Fallouts "Tribals" are meant to represent people who have reverted back to some sort of pre-state society; of course there are countless problems with how Fallout treats this matter (including but not limited to incredible amounts of racism) but in order to understand Caesar we're forced to meet the game on it's terms

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

"See, it is a boasting point: I lasted like at least ten generations of bloatflies."

Oh, she didn't actually know the exact lifecycle length of a bloatfly, did she? That made her response to his throwaway insult even funnier.

"Yeah, ten months is real impressive, swee'heart."

The Ghoul drawled back, voice thick with sarcastic amusement. From context, he could infer what the raider had probably been trying to convey - and sure, ten years in the raiding lifestyle was actually quite a feat. Most folks died, or came to their senses and switched career paths, well before then. The ones that stuck around this long and had lackeys, well. They'd usually stirred up enough chatter for him to have heard about them by now.

Maybe this one would have a name he'd recognise more than her face.

"We had a sniper. He got greedy and got his head blown off. Bloaty style."

He was actually a little surprised that she'd admit that to him. Granted, it didn't guarantee she had nobody out there covering her and her two lackeys - but after her little speech about how she was such a generous boss who invested in paying skilled people what they were worth, it was rather ironic that she'd just had to put one down for getting greedy. Clearly there had been a disagreement over how much the sniper's skills had been worth.

"Shame," he commented, with the mordant humour of someone who'd just seen all the cards in his opponent's hand and knew he could take the winning pot.

No sniper, no problem.

Another clear reaction at his pointed choice of words. Instead of bristling at his blatent button pressing, however, the raider averted her gaze. Oh, that was interesting.

"I'm in a "I wanna fuck with the Enclave today" kinda mood."

She was really keeping her manners on, wasn't she? That was sensible, even if it wasn't very sporting. The Ghoul magnanimously decided to let the subject go. After all, he had more important matters to focus on than needling this stranger for the sake of seeing her squirm. And by the look that just crossed her face, she was already off her game enough that she'd forgotten introduce herself.

"Right. I'm Coop."

The Ghoul's expression went abruptly, unsettlingly blank.

He barely registered the names of the two men as she finished off her side of introductions; a haze of static was setting in, bouncing the old nickname around in his mind, turning it over. Trying to discern whether this was some sort of sick joke. Trying to discern whether or not she knew.

There was no way she could know. She hadn't delivered it like a punchline; she hadn't paused to take in his reaction, or given any indication that she'd expected there to be one. It was just a stupid coincidence.

Then, one of the newly introduced raiders (Pat?) raised his hand and actually waved hello at him. That was nonplussing enough to pull The Ghoul back out of his head, and watch as Coop and her other buddy collectively cringed at the social faux pas.

"... he's our Brahmin, ignore him."

Ah, so he'd been right. That one was the weakest link. The one who carried the bags because he didn't shoot as good or think as fast.

If this went to shit, Pat was going to make a good meat shield.

"As for my friend, if I went around giving the names of people I work with and for, wouldn't be good publicity, would it?"

The Ghoul's eyes narrowed knowingly. So this friend was the real big fish - and probably the source of all these promised caps, given this raider was so reluctant to risk being cut out of the deal.

"Oh, I get the feelin' your friend's had plenty of publicity already," he remarked, low and shrewd. Certainly he'd put money on them being someone more familiar than these strangers.

"You, on the other hand... Maybe you oughtta hire a publicist, 'cause I've heard a marked lack o' chatter about you."

Maybe because she'd been a lackey herself for most of her career, and some big-name boss had been taking all the credit. Or maybe because she just hadn't really done shit outside of scavenge easy pickings and mug some small merchants, and that was why she'd survived so long in the first place.

"You'll hear more from me if you join us. If not, find the answers out there. You'll find me too, if you ever need caps."

For all her purported confidence in what she had to offer, this woman really did seem set on giving him an easy out. Was that big ol' minigun of hers out of bullets from her disagreement with her former sniper, or something?

The Ghoul's lips quirked.

"Well, I'll tell you what," he started, with offhanded cheer, as he stepped in close enough to clap a faux-friendly hand on Pat's shoulder.

"Y'all are some of the politest raiders to ever point a gun at me, an' I'll admit that tickles me a bit, so -"

With the deft speed of a viper, he made his move. His other hand firmly clamped down on Pat's elbow - using his newfound leverage point, The Ghoul sidestepped behind his quarry, and smoothly twisted the young raider's weapon arm up behind his back to divest him of his nice looking gun.

"- I'll take it under advisement," The Ghoul finished with that same affected equanimity, releasing Pat almost as quickly as he'd grabbed him with a patronising little pat to the head.

Nothing personal, bucko. Just how the game goes.

He retreated with his newly procured gun - how good it felt to be armed again at last - and kept it pointedly levelled at Coop, while he gauged the reaction to his little breach of niceties. Just in case she wasn't feeling so kindly any more now that he'd robbed one of her own, or so inclined to let him walk away.

"Consider this my advance, for dealin' with your Dom Pedro problem," he gave by way of simple explanation, and tipped his hat for good measure - a sardonic little thank you for what he knew he hadn't had permission to take.

And if you have any sense, you'll realise how lucky you are that this is all I'm charging you for the mistake of unleashing me for a recruitment pitch.

He'd have shot and looted the lot of them, but, well. They had technically done him a favour, and they hadn't tried to threaten or extort him yet.

If this Coop was serious about being willing to let him walk away, with the chance of future jobs still on the table and no grudges held, then he had a feeling it was probably more advantageous to not completely burn this particular bridge right now.

Either way, he was definitely about to find out who this weirdly polite old raider actually was - folks always showed their honest character when things started going wrong.

@savingthrcw

"Please. Look at me, cowboy, I'm an old raider."

Was she trying to strike up a rapport with a bit of banter? Adorable.

The Ghoul gave her a yellowed, knowing smile that didn't meet his eyes.

Oh, kiddo, you don't know what old is.

An "old" raider was a spit in the bucket compared to him; the lifestyle killed most of the trigger-happy, caps-hungry idiots who gave it a go within three years.

And given he'd never heard of this woman or her little crew, he doubted she'd been in the raiding business that long.

"Ah, now, swee'heart, that ain't much of a boasting point - 'cause most of y'all don't last longer than a bloatfly, " he quipped back lightly, the faux-friendly tone of his voice belying the very measured way he was circling closer. The two lackeys accompanying Miss Minigun looked nervous about his approach, but they seemed to be holding their nerve so far, which was a little disappointing.

He was itching for an excuse to shoot something, and that was a nice gun the twitchy lad on the left with the bags was holding.

Go on. Give me a reason. I know you want to.

Miss Minigun was continuing her pitch, either unaware or unworried by the way The Ghoul was sizing up her people; making a note of which one was the weakest link in the three-person chain, which one would make the best meat-shield and give him the advantage he needed to quickly dispatch the others, if it came down to it.

"I'm still here because I plan and I prepare. Then I overprepare. You'd be when the 'over' bit starts. Which is what lets me be so 'nice' about it."

The Ghoul turned in a slow, thoughtful circle on the spot, peering out across the wide open field of the dark graveyard, making a show of looking for the invisible backup sniper team that must be making her so confident in her preparation skills.

If she truly thought bringing just two men and a minigun was enough to ensure her safety, well, that was actually a little insulting. Not that he was going to have any complaints about a mistake if it worked in his favour, of course.

"Here's the deal. Apparently a scientist stole from the Enclave and ran with his dog."

That got his attention.

...Enclave scientist, huh? Running away with a dog?

Oh, that scientist was definitely scurrying off with some kind of highly classified military tech that folks would pay a whole mountain of caps for. He doubted the dog was the stolen property that the Enclave was so pissy about.

"The Enclave got its panties in a twist, and offered a thousand caps to bring him back. But we both know they ain't gonna give that to ya. 'Cause you are a ghoul, and people are stupid about that."

The Ghoul's lips twitched; a small ripple of acerbic amusement.

Oh, you'd be surprised.

Sure, most folks were stupid, discriminating assholes. But most folks were also pretty quick to reevaluate their priorities, when the right leverage was applied - and his practiced brand of persuasion was pretty effective at making even the most proud and stubborn fellow suddenly experience the pressing inclination to be more accommodating.

After all, he wasn't just any ghoul.

"They'll want someone in a shiny armor to do it."

Well, there was what someone wanted, and there was what they actually got. He had a feeling the Enclave wouldn't be splitting hairs over the appearance of whoever bagged their bounty, when it came down to the urgency of getting their property back intact - and keeping it out of the hands of whoever this defecting scientist was undoubtedly angling to sell it to.

"Who'll really pay a lot is a friend of mine, if I bring the scientist to them."

...Ah. So Miss Minigun knew a higher bidder, and wanted to capitalize.

It didn't really matter who got the prize, in the end. It was probably just some new kind of fancy military-grade weapon for the wasteland gangs to squabble over and kill each other with, as if that wasn't all they'd been doing for the past 200 years anyway.

"If you are with me, it's a job worth 500 caps for you alone. You are free to go and check if anyone is offering more. But... if it's true that you are as good as they say, I'll throw in an extra 200."

The Ghoul arched a hairless, pock-marked brow at her, and gave a low whistle through his teeth - a deliberately performative display of amused surprise at the upfront offer.

"Wow." He drawled out, taking his time with the word, so that it was nicely marinated in sarcasm on delivery.

"Y'all really trekked all the way out here to dig ol' me up and offer 700 caps for some help with a bag n' delivery? My, my, someone's feeling in a real kindly mood."

He enjoyed the way Miss Minigun's face had twitched when he used that particular word, so it was pure vindictive curiosity to see what happened when he poked that little button he'd discovered again. Being called kindly had clearly touched some sort of nerve - maybe because she knew he wasn't using it as a compliment, maybe for some other reason. Either way, it was a flicker of an honest reaction, a hint of her true nature beneath this show of playing nice she was serving him right now.

I bet you're not so civilised when folks don't follow your little script.

The payday for this one must be big; if she was so willing to offer such a lump sum with a bonus tacked on top up-front, without even haggling, this so-called friend of hers must've quoted a much higher price than the Enclave's set reward.

A soft-footed scientist and his dog would be easy to track down, given they'd leave two sets of tracks, and have double the need to stop at the few places that supplied safe drinking water to travellers. Outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb from the locals at settlements, so it wouldn't take many friendly memory-jogging conversations to piece together where the target was going. Somewhere he assumed he'd be out of the Enclave's long reach, presumably, which helped narrow down the options.

It sounded like a lucrative deal. Which meant there had to be some kind of nasty catch, of course.

When something sounded too good to be true, in his experience, it always was.

"Not because I'm kind-hearted, but because that's what I call an investment. Paying skilled people the right amount instead of fucking them up... usually means they'll come back to work with me later."

Yeah, there was the flash of that metaphorical leash in the little tip of her hand. So this was supposedly about more than just one job, and she considered this an investment. A way to try and hook herself a notorious ally that was now conveniently the enemy of one of her latest enemies, and keep his services on a retainer to get a leg up on her competition.

...Did this raider really think she could convince him to drop the independent autonomy of his unaffiliated freelance status, and join her motley crew, by talking all nice-like and waving a big enough bag of money?

Well. She wasn't the first to make the assumption that he could be bought, and annoyingly The Ghoul doubted that she'd be the last, either. Even though his method of declining such offers had become increasingly emphatic over the years, there was always someone who thought they could change his mind.

"So take this as an incentive not to shoot me in the back whether you wanna do it or not, I'm worth more caps alive, 'cause they can keep coming and you never know when you may need a job."

The only original spin on this particular approach was that Miss Minigun seemed to be clued into the importance of emphasising she could take no for an answer. Her explicitly expressed preference for his answer to not be delivered with a bullet indicated that, on some level, the raider knew the fine line she was walking here. That she was ballsy enough to approach and ask for his allegiance, but not entitled enough to expect and demand.

"Pitch over. I won't lie, the fact that Dom Pedro will shit his pants knowing you're out and about? Makes me feel aaaall warm and fuzzy. It's good reason to try you first."

The bare-basic show of respect was a pitifully low bar, really, but enough folks had tripped over it that The Ghoul was, admittedly, kind of entertained by the novelty. And for a moment, it even showed on his malformed face - before he felt that all-too-familiar tightness in his chest, that burning itch in his throat.

An innocuous dip of his head obscured his expression under the broad brim of his hat; he raised a fist to his mouth and managed to turn his stifled coughing fit into a rasping, sardonic chuckle.

"Y'know... I didn’t catch your name. Or the name of this well-paying friend o' yours, come to think of it."

@savingthrcw