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| Unbidden Danger..; For PBP, post apocolyptia! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 26 2010, 11:03 PM (127 Views) | |
| Daisuke Travis | Apr 26 2010, 11:03 PM Post #1 |
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Nerd of all things sci-fi, including alien abductions!
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Auburn eyes scanned the dark, lightning wracked building around him as he traveled with the caravan and his Brahmin, eyes alert for any sign of movement, any subtle differences in lighting of light glinting off of wood or metal as opposed to the tumbled concrete and steel surrounding what used to be Washington DC. His eyes were usually called just brown, or sometimes black by idiots who were clearly color blind, but they were really more of an auburn. Maybe a deep, dark caramel color, but mainly auburn, hell if he could tell the difference, but his mother and everyone he'd grown up with back at Paradise Falls had always called his eye color 'auburn', so that's what he told everyone else, and damned if he'd accept any other color for his eyes. Even deep, dark caramel would push the limits of his patience, one of the few things about his family beyond his mother that he knew about, and he was right proud of that. As to his mother, she was his only family, back before she died when a slaver raid had tried attacking the Union Sanctuary, sometimes referred to as the Emancipation Temple nowadays, some 7 years ago, she'd died during the attack, so the priest of the settlement had taken him in, but not before the local sheriff of that section of town taught him how to hold, aim, and fire a BB gun for his own benefit. His first gun really, but he'd quickly learned to lock pick another person's gun stash, belonging to the father of a regular bully of his at the time. When the bully suddenly found a loaded .32 pistol in his face, he no longer tried to bully Alex anymore. Raising his trusty Plasma Pistol, on its last legs but still his best weapon by far, even in this weather, he whispered to another caravan guard. "Eyes up on the scaffolding, Mutant, Hunting Rifle. Look for the Nail Board..." Raising his pistol to fire, a group of three other mutants suddenly took up the battle cry, just in time for a lightning bolt to light the night with its eerie luminescence, as the Mutants started their charge. Four Mutants total, one of which appeared to be the 'Master Mutant', who chose to wield, of all things, a modified sledge hammer made from an old concrete pole with a fire hydrant attached to it. "Brotherhood, sound off!" The sudden crackle of Laser Pistols and Rifles split the night with their own artificial lightning, and that combined with his one shot from his Plasma Pistol before it broke, combined with the rest of the caravan guards, only three remaining from this trek through this last leg of the DC Wasteland, the Mutants all went down with nary a scratch to either caravan or Brotherhood, the Mutant on the upper scaffolding turning into a strange, green goo as he got hit in the head, the first casualty of the assault. A Brotherhood Paladin went to check on the body of the Mutant wielding the Super Sledgehammer, only to run shouting, "Hit the deck!" Old reflexes took over, and he found himself prone on the ground just as the improvised sledge explosive went off, a bottle-cap mine taped to the fire hydrant which the Mutant had wielded. Getting up and cursing through the rain, he hardly realized he was speaking as he stood up. "God damn mutants, they're getting smarter with each attack. If he'd timed that charge better, he could have easily brought down that hammer into the midst of us, and then we'd all be dead. Good thing that Power Armor of yours protected it from the mine. You all right there Paladin?" The Paladin got up under his own power, his, or rather, her armor, barely even scratched from the makeshift explosive. "I'm fine, thanks for the concern but you should keep an eye out for more Mutants. They've been getting that much bolder during the rain we've been getting as of late." The thought of Mutants getting bolder as the weather grew worse brought a shiver down his spine, though that could just as easily have been from the sheer amount of rain cascading down from above chilling him to the bone. "How far to the next safe area? I need a place to warm up and repair some of my equipment, and I'm sure we could all use something hot to drink." Another Brotherhood, likely just an ensign from her, or his, insignia, pointed through a corner of the next building. "There's a small trading camp just down the next three blocks to the right. It's a little off your path, but it'll have guards too, so you should be a little safer there as well." The trader that he was tasked with guarding currently nodded and said that they'd head there next, and began leading his Brahmin plus supplies to the next rest stop. As they neared the campsite about an hour and a half later, a trip that would have taken only 30 minutes most if it hadn't been raining so hard, making for treacherous footing that was as much against them as it was against the Mutants, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief as they spotted the welcome fires of the trading camp, along with the obligatory raised firearms of the camp guards. The trader ran up with his arms raised, and clasped hands with the other traders, negotiating for some space to rest their feet, and buying something to drink for them all, accepting a bottle of whiskey for himself to share. "Alex Trigarto, they've got your favorite brand of whiskey here! Looks to be a good 20 years old, if the label is to be relieved!" The mention of Greyhound Whiskey was more than enough of an inducement to come out of the rain, rather than provide cover guard for another few minutes, and with a clinking of bottles, Alex proceeded to drink the whiskey, remarkably tasty, considering the radiation that constantly affected much of the landscape. Didn't taste like he'd need to pop a pill of Rad-X afterwards, though he'd likely take one anyway after a meal of radscorpion meat with squirrel intestines, which is what the traders seemed to have ready at the moment. After the meal,which was as tasty as he'd thought it'd be, since he'd never liked scorpion meat, and squirrel meat was few and far in between, so had to be mixed with the scorpion meat to make the meal last longer. Still, taking a pill of Rad-X, Alex bartered with the other traders for some extra supplies of Rad-X, some stimpacks, and three more cartridges of .56 ammo for his assault rifle, even giving his trusty sword a go at repair from one of the traders who knew how to repair such weapons. The trader had asked him where he'd gotten the sword, and Alex laughed, saying he'd found it off a dead raider or slaver, whichever group the body had come from. When the trader asked what had killed the man or woman, Alex simply said that the body had been mauled, and by a river near Arefu, which meant that it could be a Yao guoi, a Mirelurk, or maybe even one of the rare Deathclaws that sometimes got sighted here and there. After the obligatory telling of another few tales, something in the distance caught his attention, what looked like a group of Ghouls, feral from the look of it, went running off in the near distance, bringing everybody alert and weapons raised, but as the Ghouls continued running away from them, rather quickly at that, everyone except Alex relaxed. His hair only further bristled. Feral Ghouls might be stupid, but even they must have known that the human group would have made for a tastier meal, and a more stationary one, than whatever prey had them running so quickly. It was only four Ghouls at that, not the sort of numbers that you normally saw outside the tramway tunnels. "I'm gonna check them out, if I find anything of value on them I'll be sure to bring it back. Gimme that lighter, I need a smoke before I head off." Handing him one of their lighters, Alex handed the lighter back to the trader, taking a few puffs from his cigarette before handing it to one of the other guards, smoking the cigarette for a momentary warmth before setting out into the landscape again, Hunting Rifle in hand, armed, and his sword at his hip, ready to be whipped out at a moments notice. With a Silenced 10mm pistol at his other hip, and three combat knives ready to be thrown, one next to his his pistol holster, the other two hiding on his jacket sleeves, Alex set out to find whatever it was that the Ghouls were chasing after. It wasn't often that Ghouls came out of the Metro Tunnels, since there was no love lost between the Ferals and the Mutants, so whatever it was that they were chasing was bound to be rather tasty, enough to risk getting wiped out by Mutants and the Brotherhood. He didn't try to race after the Ghouls, since that would create way too much noise, but Alex made sure to take what shortcuts he could, freezing as he heard the call of a Mutant in the distance, glad that the rain pretty much obliterated his scent for all but the wild dogs and ants in the Wasteland. The rain had lightened up enough so that he wasn't instantly drenched the moment he stepped out from cover, but it was still more than constant enough to blur his vision even if he were wearing goggles. Spying one of the Feral Ghouls up ahead, Alex quickly went prone to the ground, bringing his Hunting Rifle quietly up to the cover, aiming carefully for the head of the Ghoul, and when he thought he had it right, Alex pulled the trigger. The shot missed the Ghouls head by a good three inches, bringing a silent curse to his lips, but by a miraculous event, the ghoul hadn't noticed the shot, so the second shot squarely knocked the ghoul onto the ground, bleeding from his eyes socket where his second shot had pierced him from behind. A quick third shot took out a second ghoul as it turned to see its falling companion, accounting for two out of at least four ghouls that Alex had seen in the area. While normally, he would have searched for the other ghouls before breaking from cover, what he saw when the second Ghoul went down caused him to quickly break from cover, putting his rifle away and kneeling down before the prone figure in on motion as he skidded to a halt before the figure. It was a human, dead, unconscious, or just very still, lying on the ground. Quickly checking for a pulse, finding, Alex didn't allow himself the luxury of relief, knowing that the other ghouls would soon zero in on the two of them, and breaking open his emergency first aid kit, Alex applied a stimpack to the man, as well as his last remaining anti-bacterial gel packet from the old, abandoned pharmacy some months ago, and used some rubbing salt to try to wake the man up, who was clearly alive. Before he could see whether the man was awake yet, the cry of a Feral Ghoul sounded from seemingly all sides, so Alex quickly got his sword out, picking up the man in his other hand, swinging his sword as best he could with a slightly unresponsive body next to him, and decided to just cut the ghoul in half and pick the man up after the initial ghoul charge was over. Letting the man drop quickly to the ground, only a few centimeters from the ground when he was dropped, Alex focused on the Ghoul, a grim smile gracing his features as the blade transferred an electrical charge to the ghoul, causing the ghoul to collapse forward, plunking down next to the human, dead before hitting the ground, the ghoul falling in two pieces. Quickly seeing that there were a good six ghouls closing in, at least two already within shooting range, Alex was just glad to whatever misguided got decided that Feral Ghouls shall not carry weapons, and picked out his silenced pistol and fired it wildly into the two ghouls, hoping less to get a critical shot than to damage them enough to be able to make a mild slash with his sword to kill them. He was no rookie when it came to using a melee weapon, especially when it came to his trusty shock sword, but he didn't relish fighting in the rain like this with such uncertain footing. He actually managed to shoot out the farther of the two ghouls eyes, causing it to reel back, but the other ghoul just kept coming. "God damned reaper! Stay dead this time!" Smacking his pistol against the Ghoul Reaper as it neared him, Alex then swung his sword against the Reaper, but his footing failed him as he swung his sword, bringing himself and the ghoul crashing to the ground, his pistol clattering uselessly away from him, near the mans body who he'd been trying to save when the other ghouls showed up. Ignoring his and sword for the moment, Alex wrestled with the slightly stronger Ghoul Reaper, managing to get out one of his knives from his let arm, plunging it deep into the ghouls neck as it tried vainly to claw at his face and into his innards. Alex was fortunate and thankful that the Reaper, though stronger than him, seemed unable to coordinate itself properly, so he wasn't immediately hamburger food for it just yet. He managed to stab his knife deep into its skull, twisting the blade around as much as he could to inflict as grave a wound as he could, and finally the Ghoul gurgled a final gurgle, then stilled as it died. Relaxing as was his bodies want, Alex immediately regretted his relaxing, as he felt a pair of hands that definitely weren't human wrapping themselves around his neck, and instinctively tried to fight his way to his feet, but this time the wetness of the pavement combined with the ghoul trying to strangle was too much for him, and he wasn't able to fight the ghoul off of him. He was about to using his sword to try to stab the ghoul, knowing that such a stab would just as likely hit him as soon as the ghoul, when a shot rung out by his head, and the ghoul toppled onto him, dead. Deciding that it was better to get up first before trying to figure out who shot him, Alex felt a pair of hands working to push the ghoul body off of him, those same hands working to pull him to his feet. Rising to his feet, slowly at first to see if he'd broken any bones, Alex was relieved to feel that although he had quite a few bruised, he'd broken no bones. and so turned his attention to the one who'd saved his ass. When he saw who it was that had saved him, Alex felt his jaw drop slightly but decided that it was better to simply accept what was and question what had happened later. "Thanks for that, if you hadn't shot that thing, I'd have been dinner. Mind telling me what you're doing in this part of the Wasteland all on your lonesome?" The old ex-raider smiled as he picked off the last few Ghouls with his own Hunting Rifle. "Eh, just nosing through, looking for work. Some fool decided that I was going to set off that bomb in Megaton and I got pushed out of town. Only good thing 'bout that is I didn't have to pay my bar tab to that Gob feller, that would have been worse than getting kicked out of Megaton.. So whattawe got here?" Chuckling at Jericho's comment about the bar tab, Alex looked down at the prone figure, belatedly remembering that he'd left the emergency kit out, and quickly running over to take care to finish administering the rest of the medical supplies he was prepared to dole out to the man without knowing whether the man was in a coma or not. "Ah, good. For a moment I thought he was too far gone, but his pulse has stabilized..." Jericho swore in the rain, spitting out some of his tobacco over the concrete. "Ah, hello? You didn't answer my question about why you were out here on your own lonesome kid. The Wastelands aren't something you should tackle all on your own, even for a seasoned veteran like me." Closing up his emergency kit and putting it away, Alex picked his silenced pistol back up, started to hand it to Jericho, then put it back in his holster when Jericho gestured the gun away. "Ah, well I saw some ghouls running out of the metro tunnels here in the DC Wasteland, so I figured that whatever was inducement enough for them to risk being attacked by Mutants must be valuable enough to try to take for myself. Didn't think I'd find an unconscious person out here though, you'll have to protect me while I head back to the caravan." Jericho's eyes lit up, and unlike his own eyes, Jericho's eyes really were just brown. "A caravan? So you're one of their guards? Sounds like I can unload some of my services on them. C'mon kid, I'll see you safely back to the caravan, just lead me to it." Nodding, Alex was sure that the caravan wouldn't be too happy about accepting a contract with Jericho, since he'd likely charge them for the amount of a full trip just for protecting them until their final stop, but he wasn't of a mind to argue with the ex-raider. He just wanted to get back to the camp safely, with an intact human in tow. On the heels of that thought, Alex bent down to pick up the figure, the back of his mind noting that the mans clothes were slightly better kept than some of the others he'd seen on other people, which meant that he'd either recently raided a little known shop, or 'knew' someone with decently taken care of clothes. Regardless, his clothes meant nothing other than that the guy, whoever he was, wasn't that knowledgeable about the Wasteland, and would likely prove more difficult to protect. A quick check didn't reveal any weapons or caps, not that Alex would have taken any of those thing, even if he had found them. Well, he might have taken a couple caps, but that's it. As Jericho led the way back to the camp, he heard the man putting his gun away and saying something, but he couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but the sound of a Brotherhood microphone was relief enough. Jericho quickly sauntered back over to Alex to tell him the news. "Good new fella, the Brotherhood of Steel has come here in force, so you should be safe here until dawn, when they say they'll be heading back up to the radio tower. Here, lemme help you get that guy to the mats over here..." Gladly letting some of the mans burdening weight ease from his shoulders, Alex guided the still unconscious man softly onto the old bed spring, and gave a phew of relief as he sat down on a mat himself. Taking a smoke from his caravan trader, Alex lit it up and told the caravan about his little misadventure, and how Jericho had come to his aide. True to his nature, Jericho managed to garner himself some caps in return for both his protecting of Alex plus his unconscious 'guest', and even managed to barter for himself a wage for as far as the caravan needed to go. Since the particular caravan needed to go to Canterbury Commons, Jericho got the better end of the stick, while everyone else simply slumped their shoulders as the old ex-raiders audacity. Leaning back against the aluminum walls of the camp, the fires lending him some warmth, Alex suffered himself to take his jacket off, shaking it out to let some of the water fall out, hoping to dry his jacket off by morning. He didn't give the jacket to anyone else, knowing that the rules of the land meant that if you didn't barter to sell your items when you handed them away, you weren't going to get the stuff back. So wet and slightly warmer now that he was by a fire, Alex nodded as one of the Brotherhood brought over one of the fire barrels to the unconscious figure to warm him up a bit more, recognizing the mans kindness. |
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