CLOSED SIGNUPS FALLOUT: RECLAMATION (IC)

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

FALLOUT: RECLAMATION ​

A gentle breeze rolled through the crowd around the 188, a brief respite against the desert's heat that carried even through the shade of the overpass. It was a hectic scene, despite the NCR's efforts otherwise; barriers of sheet metal and old world signage had been erected to lead up to checkpoint manned by soldiers, where people signing up for the Flagstaff reclamation were being assessed and questioned, their belongings searched and catalogued, and either allowed through to the similar fenced off staging area to get ready to start the journey. This had been the same scene replayed over the last few days, and this was the final one before the Reclamation trail finally began. Brahmain were pulling carts filled with folks' entire worldy possessions, patrols kept around the fences with more manpower than they were actually going to have once they left, doing their best to ensure things at least started smoothly. But there was still the last day of applications to get through, and at least one person's entry wasn't going smoothly.

A woman in a brown leather jacket and a checkered shirt tied off above her midriff scrambled after another person in Ranger's gear, their helmet under their shoulder as they kept stone faced and moving forward. The woman was fit but slight, her shorter legs struggling to keep up with the walking pace of the taller ranger, with sandy brown hair pinned back in a pony-tail that spilled into curls behind her desperado hat. Despite her size she was armed to bear, a revolver in a holster on one hip, a pistol under the arm of the opposite side, and a rifle slung across her back along with a pack, and if one looked closely, they'd also see the sawed tip of a pair of shotgun barrels occasional peeking out from under the jacket. The ranger was taller, more built, their short cut and messy black hair tinged with just a few strands of grey. The lower left side of their face and what could be seen of their neck on that side looked like a dozen different people had taken a knife to it, but their calm and balanced gait left little to the idea that the scars were anything but superficial at this point. The woman finally jogged and rounded to the ranger's front,their free hand jabbing a finger into their chest as she argued her point

"I'm exactly what you're lookin for, Maeve, and you know it"

The ranger at least stopped moving and crossed their arms as they stared down at the woman.

"A problem?"

"A steady hand" Problem(?) answered, exasperated. "One that knows a bolt from a nut, a bullet from a case, an' a bot from a 'borg. Literally exactly what you're lookin for."

The ranger seemed unfazed. "Sure. All true. All useful to me. You know what isn't useful to me?" they asked as they leaned down. "Everything else you do. I'm not blowing my personnel budget for you to try to talk down some psycho raiders who run us down instead of just putting a bullet in them, or for you to get one put in you by some jealous wife. I'm not tying four thousand caps to a to-be-corpse, courier."

Courier(?) rolled her head up to look at the sky "Oh please. if that was gonna happen I'd already be swiss, darling."

"You definitely don't need any more holes. The lesser of the two problems anyways" Maeve shot back as they stopped leaning "You don't follow orders. Provenly."

That got Courier(?) to narrow her eyes "The khans left, didn't they? Just because I'm not some goose-steppin moron-"

"-Goodbye, Sally" Maeve turned on their heel and started back the other way, their eyes scanning the crowd and tuning Sally(!) out entirely. She watched them go, tapping her foot as a futile outlet for her frustration that curled her lips into a growl. This was proving harder than she thought. She just assumed the NCR would be happy to have someone help set the Mojave Express up in Flagstaff when they got there, but apparently they 'didn't want to give any of the hub companies a head start'. She had a feeling if it was anyone else starting that head they'd be having an easier time of it. The recruiter had suggested she take the standard package, the one that made her promise to stay in Flagstaff when she got there, as a settler. The word alone gave her the shivers, the idea practically made her want to heave; she didnt' do settling.

She supposed she could just go the other way; she just had to get outta Vegas, not the whole NCR. But there was something about this trip that… it itched at her, the idea of it. She'd been up and down the west, seen much most of it. East of the Colorado though, well… she'd gone, some. But not far, certainly not Flagstaff. With the fall of the legion, it was like a whole new piece of the world had opened up. She'd been born curious. She wanted to see it. Needed to, even.

Just had to figure out how the hell she was gettin there. Too bad no one needed a letter to Flagstaff. Like no one had some particularly racist uncle in the legion or somethin.

------------------

Elsewhere, there were others, more than blank faces and dreamers heading east; people with a bit of the destiny to them, the sort that came outta vaults and didn't die to the first gecko or ended up in a shallow grave that didn't quite keep. Some were already signed up, some were having an easier time than Sal, and others were having it even harder. But they were all getting ready to head the same way.​

 

[TheVaultDweller]

"Finally! Just when I was startin' to think these soldier boy types put an embargo down on decent help. You lookin' for somethin' to do, missy?"

As employment opportunities in the wasteland went, Heck Gunderson was far from the worst, certainly preferable to his equivalents out east who traded in human livestock as opposed to cattle. He wasn't exactly the best either, his precise methodology in persuading his rivals to liquidate a relatively open secret; still, he was rich as all hell, honored his word, and as favors owed in the West went there were few weightier.

Judging from the fact that approximately half his organization seemed to be setting up for the journey he was considering his investment opportunities to the east very thoroughly, and looked to be doing everything in his power to get his foot in the door as one of the expedition's community leaders at an early stage; barbecues, merchant stalls, and even a port-a-potty gave a distinct atmosphere to his corner of the camp, one that was attracting more than its share of envious stares from the others.

"Hello, I am human Alec Moore...nonono...They KNOW I'm human....that I AM human. To say it give me away. Make it obvious I'm not what I say I am. Which is clearly human." Pal was having a heck of a time in it's own headspace going over the 'introduction speech' over and over.

Oh, if anyone of the Enseeare found out it wasn't human? If they found out it was a plant? The thought terrified Pal. It didn't want to go back to that lab where the real Alec had subjected it to all sorts of horrible tests when it wasn't in any condition to defend itself or make it's terror known. It had to get this right. It had to get a j o b and get caps. Caps kept people away. Kept them from getting aggressive. Pulling out a piece of paper it'd left folded up and crumpled in the pocket of it's denim jacket, it started to read it aloud.

"Hel...Hello sir or m...m...madamn. I wish, no, I SEEK to open a dia...log...Dialogue with you! Extend hand towards conversation partner." Pal held it's right hand out. "If they accept hand, shake, firmly but fairly. If they say no, pull hand back and run it through hair. Stick in pocket if no hair." Pal glanced up. The human Alec Moore had SOME hair even if he was balding by the time he'd met #1960. Try as it might to continue it's speech practice however, the plant was interrupted by the smell of something good. Pal's mouth clenched and it twisted it's head over in the direction of the 188 that Gunderson had set up his operations at. The humans smelled delicious but eating them unprompted was a social faux-pau or so Pal had been told. But the smell of cooked meat got the plant salivating. "Meat...."

Tucking the handy dandy speech paper away, Pal ambled it's way over, walking past Sally and Gunderson himself without so much as a wave of acknowledgment. Its stolen eyes scanned over the BBQ and it's shoulders heaved up and down as it fought back the temptation to just try and snatch the meat right where it was. So, instead he tried to grab (politely) the nearest worker and pointed towards the meat. "...Can...Can I have for caps?"

Dominik, like many of their ilk in the Mojave Brotherhood, stood as a direct inheritor of their former elder Elijah's neurosis and paranoia, albeit out of necessity rather than choice. The former scribe had been one of the most brilliant minds to ever grace the Brotherhood, unquestionably, but his hunger to understand the secrets of the old world had quickly fallen to obsession, and ultimately brought about a reality where none of their people could ever roam the wastes without looking over their shoulder again. He knew that was the end result of his aggression, didn't care, but did his best to have his chapter of the Brotherhood trained and shaped accordingly.

Right now those teachings were both blessing and curse, because they were how Dominik knew they were being watched.

Dominik frowned.

Could they tell what Dom was? What they used to be?

No, no it couldn't have been. They would have snitched on them to the Ranger if they had. Get some kind of reward or what have you. Truth be told although they didn't let it show on their face, Dom was worried about how that hypothetical conversation was gonna go.

"Name, occupation?"

"Dominik Potts. Former knight of the-"

*BANG*

Shot in head

"Name, occupation?"

"Dominik Potts. Former knight of the-"

*BANG BANG BANG BANG*

Gunned down like a dog.

"Name, occupation?"

"Dominik Potts. Former knight of the-"

*STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB*

To the point their head rolled off their eviscerated neck stump.

Exaggerations to be sure as Maeve, at least at the moment, didn't give off such monstrous energy. But propaganda was a powerful thing and Dom didn't want to get on the ranger's badside and that came from someone who'd gone into Quarry Junction all by themselves. Just for the thrill of it.

It had been coming up on two hours since their last sighting though, and the seed of doubt that the entire affair had simply been a trick of the mind was just beginning to germinate when they felt themselves shoulder checked with enough force to send them spinning, and righted themselves just in time to see their assailant: one of the hooded figures, marching determinedly away from Dom through the crowd and already beginning to meld into it.

Dom typically tried to exude an energy of 'don't mess with me, do I look like I got time for your nonsense?' energy. Was a touch more difficult without power armor as they were 5'5 and could have been thrown across the room by someone with enough gumption like that lady they'd seen talking to the big scarred up freak of nature.

What also didn't help was being shoved, audibly going 'ah!' and having to clear their throat and straighten up their jacket. In an attempt to reesatblish that dominant energy.

Was following this stranger a potentially life threatening risk?

Maybe.

But given the number of NCR troops around and Dom's uneasiness about having to actually TALK to the one ranger, wasn't like they weren't already dancing on the line of danger. So, they sighed and tried to move through the crowd after the jagoff that'd shoved them and went about on their way.

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Scoutmaster Donchev."

Of all the voices to drawl its way into an exchange between an especially odd one of House's doohickeys and an NCR ranger, a simple caravan hand was likely the last one either could have foreseen. Yet that was the voice that did, a man Donchev had seen busying himself doing menial work like loading wagons, digging latrines and hammering tent poles throughout the day lending his unsolicited two cents as he sauntered past them carrying a hay bale.

"Yeah, you NCR rightly enough. Maybe even know your stretch of desert back California-ways, 'f you can call it one. Thing is..."

He gave a light 'hup', loading the bale into the back of a truck marked by the Crimson Caravan atop a stack of several more, then turned, reaching into his mechanic jumpsuit's inner pocket as he leaned back against the truck and mopped his brow with an oil-streaked rag, eyebrows raising, mouth breaking into a crooked half-smile.

"Round these parts, out east, folk still remember what a Ranger looks like. So it's Scoutmaster Donchev."

He produced a flask of something, took a swill, spat out a mouthful of liquid and tobacco. He was a man who'd seen tenure of some kind or another, not particularly old and not particularly young, a frame lean yet muscled ending in weathered workman's hands; wispy locks once dark bleached fair by the sun, swarthy complexion glistening with the desert's dew. He paused from his labor, seemingly just to observe them, flapping the hand bearing the flask at them with an encouraging nod and spilling a bit.

"Please, continue. This tickles me."

Just then, a small LED screen zipped up to them on jet propellers, flitting to and fro around Job's metallic frame irritatingly as something resembling a camera lens clicked its shutter a few times. A triumphant chime sounded, and the billboard repositioned itself to float gently over the securitron's casing as several dots illuminated to spell out a troubling missive.

⬇ PURE EVIL! TELLS ONLY LIES! ⬇

The words were accompanied by a blinking red arrow pointing down for the machine, and a synthetic voice crackled through the same speakers the odd little gizmo had emitted a tone through.

"Greetings! This synthetic construct is the property of: BIG. MOUNTAIN. RESEARCH. FACILITY. Its presence here may bring about: UNTOLD. CALAMITY. We at: BIG. MT. ask for your FULL cooperation while our dedicated retrieval specialist moves to retrieve this exciting glimpse into the world of tomorrow! Potential outcomes if full cooperation is not granted may include: WISTFULNESS. INFERTILITY. AND... PLAGUE."

"Well shit, I'm two for three already."

Some kinda scene was unfoldin' by the time she got over there. The bot was bein' circled by a tiny floatin' billboard until it chose to hover just above it, and goin' on about property of BIG MT and what could happen if it was not returned...but that wasn't her concern at the moment. She just blurted out her own question almost immediately: "Eyy, ranger! I just heard part of this journey would come with some forgivin' and forgettin' of the past, there any truth to that?"

h. Definitely mistook this person for someone else. Roll with it. Or off. Literally either way.

"I'm here to sign myself up as whatever suffices to ensure the caravan gets to where it needs to go! And to surveil the state of the outside world in the meantime. Plus I am literally programmed to see an objective through without fail."

The robot was most certainly unconvincing in its attempt to truly convey itself as another of House's securitrons, having already undermined the image from the start.

"I'll understand if you wish to turn me away but it does seem you need more bodies and a metallic one goes a long way!"

Maeve wasn't so stoic as to not snap their glare over to the mechanic who decided to insert himself into the conversation, their expression bordering on affronted, but they still weren't decided on whether this robot needed to be shot and that took priority.

The billboard change whatever mental calculus Maeve was doing, and Mia got a hand up in the direction of her face as her only response while Maeve read the sign then looked back to Job in askance, more interested than suspicious as they ignored the billboard for now

"...This true? You're not one of House's grunts?"

The way their other hand had drifted back towards the plasma pistol on their hip made it clear that just because their interest had been piqued didn't mean the suspicion was gone

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

inally! Just when I was startin' to think these soldier boy types put an embargo down on decent help. You lookin' for somethin' to do, missy?"

As employment opportunities in the wasteland went, Heck Gunderson was far from the worst, certainly preferable to his equivalents out east who traded in human livestock as opposed to cattle. He wasn't exactly the best either, his precise methodology in persuading his rivals to liquidate a relatively open secret; still, he was rich as all hell, honored his word, and as favors owed in the West went there were few weightier.

Judging from the fact that approximately half his organization seemed to be setting up for the journey he was considering his investment opportunities to the east very thoroughly, and looked to be doing everything in his power to get his foot in the door as one of the expedition's community leaders at an early stage; barbecues, merchant stalls, and even a port-a-potty gave a distinct atmosphere to his corner of the camp, one that was attracting more than its share of envious stares from the others.​

Sally's eyes lit up at the sound of the voice of what may have been her salvation in the form of that south NCR drawl. She turned and once she confirmed who it was she immediately started hoofing it that way with a wave of her own "Mr Gunderson! Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, cuz as a matter of fact I am. Got the itch to go east, see what's what that way and get a lay of the land for the Express. Unfortunately, due to some, ah, recent events-" she said with a scratch on the side of her cheek as she came to a stop next to the man "-the NCR ain't willin to fund me taggin along despite my steady hand. Not that I can't afford my own cart, but they got a whole registerin thing goin and I ain't plannin to stay out that way, so'd rather I be hitchin my wagon to someone else"

This wasn't Sally's first dealing Heck Gunderson, and she liked the man well enough. She wasn't harboring any delusions that he was a 'good man' or anything, but there was still a nugget of that old school farmer at the core of his being she found easy to talk to. And on occasion talk down from a more drastic measure or two in favor of her offering a lighter hand. Plus, he had stellar taste in whiskey.

"What are you lookin to get done, sir? Ted isn't rubbin elbows with cannibals again I hope?"​

He scoffed at her words on approach, an old cowpoke's friendly warmth in the strength of the grip he extended to shake her hand with should she oblige as he rose from the campfire he was hunkered down by to meet her. "That don't surprise me none. Crooks back in Shady can't go a darn week without dippin' their slippery fingers in the citizenry's pockets nowadays to fund land grabs like this, and for what? What I wouldn't give to find out where in tarnation all that capital's goin', 'cause ain't none of it made its way out here. No, ol' Heck Gunderson's gotta pay outta pocket just to give us proud Republicans some basic comforts."

The accommodations and provisions under the overpass had certainly improved since Gunderson's people set up, evidenced by the plentiful bedrolls and brahmin steaks being dished up by the plateful; something the NCR settlers resident in the Mojave seemed especially thankful for.

He snapped his fingers and accepted a pre-poured glass of scotch from one of the caravan guards flanking him on either side, then reached into his breast pocket and produced a cigar, motioning to offer Sally the same. His efforts to strike up the cherry grew faintly aggressive when she alluded so bluntly to their previous business in the Ultra-Lux, but he banished that frustration in a puff of smoke, squinting at her through the wisps.

"I tell you what, darlin', why don't we keep the particulars of our previous engagement to ourselves? But since you ask, well... possibly. He might just be."

If Sally waited for the punchline, it never came, the brahmin baron issuing a deep growl as he rubbed his brow in irritation.

"That boy... well. Suppose he can't bear all the blame. I never was the firm hand I shoulda been. Ever since the mess with those Vegas crazies he's been bringin' shame on the Gunderson name left and right. Boozin', chems, harlots... Kid resents me. Says I never taught him nothin'. Now, I was never one to give much sympathy to a spoiled brat, and he was one, believe you me. But I been down this road a couple times now. Got some other sons, older, families of their own, and we ain't so conversational these days. I see which way my youngest, Mason, is goin', and I..."

He sighed, a defeated air about him as he sat back down.

"Well, I'm gettin' to that age anyways. I figure we'll head out, buy up some frontier country while it's cheap. Show the boys how to raise a ranch from mud, then hand over the reins to my operations in the east. Soon as I know they got a lick of damn responsibility between 'em I can retire happy. But I ain't seen that boy in close to an hour, now, and the task I gave him ain't exactly brahmin ranchin'. It's... well... now, look."

He turned and craned his neck, casting a sneer up past the overpass to the nearby ridge, where the majority of settlers from Caesar's lands were making camp.

Plumes of smoke, crackling wood and sparks drifted up from the peak. A mighty bonfire had been erected, bathing the valley in warm, amber hues, and from their position near the underside of the bridge they could just make out a circle of silhouettes linking hands around the flames. Men and women in tribal garb, dancing, carousing, and throwing shadows across the whole of the 188, distant whooping and hollering cutting through the increasingly sleepy murmur of the Republic citizens' camp, the frenetic celebration showing no signs of slowing.

"Now it's a free country, courier. Whatever hokum and gobbledgook these savages from Caesar's lands wanna subscribe to, that's their business. But where I come from—"
​

Tucking the handy dandy speech paper away, Pal ambled it's way over, walking past Sally and Gunderson himself without so much as a wave of acknowledgment. Its stolen eyes scanned over the BBQ and it's shoulders heaved up and down as it fought back the temptation to just try and snatch the meat right where it was. So, instead he tried to grab (politely) the nearest worker and pointed towards the meat. "...Can...Can I have for caps?"

Hurricane Heck just stared at the shambling degenerate as he made his way past and started pawing up folk, and a few more aggressive clicks of the fingers saw his men surround Pal from either side, hook under his arms, and start dragging him from camp with the practiced ease of those who'd been dealing with feral refugees looking for handouts all day.

"See what I mean? Some folk just don't know how to act. Now us, we sleep at night and wake up in the mornin'. And, well, all this, this... hootin' and hollerin' they're doin' up there... it's scarin' the children. Some of the pastors, they reckon it's a bad omen." He set his jaw in a surly grimace, weary. "Thought I'd send Teddy up there with a strongly worded warnin', see if I can jog some spine loose from the boy after all these years. But he ain't come back yet, and my guess is one o' two things happened. They either gave him some flavor of pipe to toke on, and he's stretched out on his keister right now watchin' his hand move; or my boy just has a particularly delectable flavor to him, and they're roastin' him like a hog."

If he was joking it didn't show, and he took a sip of his whiskey as he leaned back, chipping his cigar into the ashpit.

"So, courier, you know the score. Find my boy. If them cannibals runnin' up on him again, you put a stop to that. And hell, if you can get those freeloaders to pack in the rain dance up there and let us civilized folk get some sleep I'll even throw ya a bonus. I got more work need's doin'; Mason, my other kid, he's around here someplace too. You round 'em both up, I'll sweeten your purse to the tune of 200 caps, and we can discuss further opportunities afterward. Sound fair?"​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

But given the number of NCR troops around and Dom's uneasiness about having to actually TALK to the one ranger, wasn't like they weren't already dancing on the line of danger. So, they sighed and tried to move through the crowd after the jagoff that'd shoved them and went about on their way.​

Whether the hooded figure knew Dom was on their heels or not wasn't clear, but they showed no signs of slowing, shouldering their way past bystanders, swerving in and around army checkpoints as they made a beeline for the edge of camp where the animals were kept. The bustle of trade and activity back in the main section of the encampment was considerably more subdued out here on the fringes, far from the lawn chairs and fairy lights of Heck's barbecue; this was where the sick, ghouls, and mutants slept, earning their spot on the trail through menial labor, a damp, dingy stretch of road lit only by a flickering set of fluorescent lamps.

Dom felt eyes track them from every shadow, the sheen of a ghoul's eyes or ragged, labored breathing of a super mutant their only companions in the dark; for a moment, the thought that they had lost their quarry briefly crossed the knight's mind.

Then they saw it, or thought they did: the swish of a black cloak vanishing around the corner of a brahmin trailer even further on the outskirts, as though its wearer had darted behind it just a split-second too late to escape Dominik's notice.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

He scoffed at her words on approach, an old cowpoke's friendly warmth in the strength of the grip he extended to shake her hand with should she oblige as he rose from the campfire he was hunkered down by to meet her. "That don't surprise me none. Crooks back in Shady can't go a darn week without dippin' their slippery fingers in the citizenry's pockets nowadays to fund land grabs like this, and for what? What I wouldn't give to find out where in tarnation all that capital's goin', 'cause ain't none of it made its way out here. No, ol' Heck Gunderson's gotta pay outta pocket just to give us proud Republicans some basic comforts."

The accommodations and provisions under the overpass had certainly improved since Gunderson's people set up, evidenced by the plentiful bedrolls and brahmin steaks being dished up by the plateful; something the NCR settlers resident in the Mojave seemed especially thankful for.

He snapped his fingers and accepted a pre-poured glass of scotch from one of the caravan guards flanking him on either side, then reached into his breast pocket and produced a cigar, motioning to offer Sally the same. His efforts to strike up the cherry grew faintly aggressive when she alluded so bluntly to their previous business in the Ultra-Lux, but he banished that frustration in a puff of smoke, squinting at her through the wisps.

"I tell you what, darlin', why don't we keep the particulars of our previous engagement to ourselves? But since you ask, well... possibly. He might just be."

If Sally waited for the punchline, it never came, the brahmin baron issuing a deep growl as he rubbed his brow in irritation.

She took the hand in a firm grip of her own, didn't wave off the drink the same she did cigar, and put her hands up deferentially at the initial request to dial back any talk on the Luxe and Gloves. She raised her eyebrow at the suggestion Ted had someone found man eaters yet again, and when the other shoe didn't drop in favor of silence her other eyebrow matched its sister in arms as she went from doubting to alarm.

"No shit?"

"That boy... well. Suppose he can't bear all the blame. I never was the firm hand I shoulda been. Ever since the mess with those Vegas crazies he's been bringin' shame on the Gunderson name left and right. Boozin', chems, harlots... Kid resents me. Says I never taught him nothin'. Now, I was never one to give much sympathy to a spoiled brat, and he was one, believe you me. But I been down this road a couple times now. I see which way my youngest, Mason, is goin', and I..."

He sighed, a defeated air about him as he sat back down.

"Well, I'm gettin' to that age anyways. I figure we'll head out, buy up some frontier country while it's cheap. Show the boys how to raise a ranch from mud, then hand over the reins to my operations in the east. Soon as I know they got a lick of damn responsibility between 'em I can retire happy. But I ain't seen that boy in close to an hour, now, and the task I gave him ain't exactly brahmin ranchin'. It's... well... now, look."

He turned and craned his neck, casting a sneer up past the overpass to the nearby ridge, where the majority of settlers from Caesar's lands were making camp.

Plumes of smoke, crackling wood and sparks drifted up from the peak. A mighty bonfire had been erected, bathing the valley in warm, amber hues, and from their position near the underside of the bridge they could just make out a circle of silhouettes linking hands around the flames. Men and women in tribal garb, dancing, carousing, and throwing shadows across the whole of the 188, distant whooping and hollering cutting through the increasingly sleepy murmur of the Republic citizens' camp, the frenetic celebration showing no signs of slowing.

"Now it's a free country, courier. Whatever hokum and gobbledgook these savages from Caesar's lands wanna subscribe to, that's their business. But where I come from—"
​

Tucking the handy dandy speech paper away, Pal ambled it's way over, walking past Sally and Gunderson himself without so much as a wave of acknowledgment. Its stolen eyes scanned over the BBQ and it's shoulders heaved up and down as it fought back the temptation to just try and snatch the meat right where it was. So, instead he tried to grab (politely) the nearest worker and pointed towards the meat. "...Can...Can I have for caps?"

Hurricane Heck just stared at the shambling degenerate as he made his way past and started pawing up folk, and a few more aggressive clicks of the fingers saw his men surround Pal from either side, hook under his arms, and start dragging him from camp with the practiced ease of those who'd been dealing with feral refugees looking for handouts all day.

"See what I mean? Some folk just don't know how to act. Now us, we sleep at night and wake up in the mornin'. And, well, all this, this... hootin' and hollerin' they're doin' up there... it's scarin' the children. Some of the pastors, they reckon it's a bad omen." He set his jaw in a surly grimace, weary. "Thought I'd send Teddy up there with a strongly worded warnin', see if I can jog some spine loose from the boy after all these years. But he ain't come back yet, and my guess is one o' two things happened. They either gave him some flavor of pipe to toke on, and he's stretched out on his keister right now watchin' his hand move; or my boy just has a particularly delectable flavor to him, and they're roastin' him like a hog."

If he was joking it didn't show, and he took a sip of his whiskey as he leaned back, chipping his cigar into the ashpit.

"So, courier, you know the score. Find my boy. If them cannibals runnin' up on him again, you put a stop to that. And hell, if you can get those freeloaders to pack in the rain dance up there and let us civilized folk get some sleep I'll even throw ya a bonus. I got more work need's doin'; Mason, my other kid, he's around here someplace too. You round 'em both up, I'll sweeten your purse to the tune of 200 caps, and we can discuss further opportunities afterward. Sound fair?"​

Damn. That guy needed some milk or somethin. Either the healthiest lookin ghoul or the least healthy human she'd ever seen

Outside of that lil' blip,Sal listened intently to the tale Gunderson was spinning. Her eyes followed his gesture up to ridge as she took a sip of the scotch and savored the burn along with the words while she sorted her own thoughts on the matter. couldn't' say she knew much bout the religion back thataway, past the new canaanites, but she doubted the NCR would be putting all this hassle into letting them organize if they had the sort of bullet-answering excuse of these folk eating people. That, In turn, didn't mean she begrudged a man who'd almost lost his son to the butcher knife some worrying. She stood up and shot the rest of her own drink, her shoulders clenching slightly as the shiver crawled down the back of her spine before she handed the glass back off to the guard who passed the glass in the first place as she finally spoke back up again.

"Well Mr Gunderson, I'll take you up on the caps if this takes longer than ten minutes or a couple bullets. Else I imagine that drink's enough to cover the tab."

She drew her revolver out from its holster, slow and holding it by the barrel so she didn't give Gunderson's boys any kind of heart attack, and flicked the cylinder out for a quick check of the round order in case she was wrong about this being a milk run.

"An' how bout young Mason, don't think I've had the pleasure yet? Which way's he gone and whats the gist of his look?" she asked as she slid the revolver back in its holster.

 

[C.T.]

Maeve wasn't so stoic as to not snap their glare over to the mechanic who decided to insert himself into the conversation, their bordering on affronted, but they still weren't decided on whether this robot needed to be shot and that took priority.

The billboard change whatever mental calculus Maeve was doing, and Mia got a hand up in the direction of her face as her only response while Maeve read the sign then looked back to Job in askance, more interested than suspicious as they ignored the billboard for now

"...This true? You're not one of House's grunts?"

The way their other hand had drifted back towards the plasma pistol on their hip made it clear that just because their interest had been piqued didn't mean the suspicion was gone

She could have gotten annoyed like an overly entitled bitch(how the hell some types like that still managed to exist nowadays was beyond her), demandin' the focus be on her insteada whatever this mess was, but that wasn't her. "Yea, okay, that's fair." She murmured, more than fine with waitin' her turn. She glanced down to Maeve's hand nearin' that plasma pistol of theirs. Energy gun like that wasn't a bad choice, but she'd never rolled with 'em. Somethin' bout shootin' off lead just felt more right to her. Her eyes rose from the hip, snapped over to the bot, and then looked back towards Maeve's face.

This had the chance of gettin' interestin' anyhow, dependin' how the securitron responded. Mia took a single step back, takin' a snack cake out of one of her pockets and munchin' down on it as she watched silently.​

 

[TheVaultDweller]

Hurricane Heck just stared at the shambling degenerate as he made his way past and started pawing up folk, and a few more aggressive clicks of the fingers saw his men surround Pal from either side,

Pal's eyes lit up.

"Oh h-hello. I'm h-Alec Moore. But you can call me Pal."

It held it's right hand out.

hook under his arms, and start dragging him from camp with the practiced ease of those who'd been dealing with feral refugees looking for handouts all day.

Pal didn't seem or feel threatened at all.

"Oh, are you taking me to where the meat is?"

*THUD*

There was no meat. Pal came to realize this a second or two after it'd been tossed on it's ass.

"Oh...." The plant frowned

Maybe it should have led with the left hand instead...

Other than that it wasn't sure what it'd did wrong! It had some caps left! All it wanted was to buy some of the food it could smell (another new and interesting sensation it'd lacked in it's original body)

Plumes of smoke, crackling wood and sparks drifted up from the peak. A mighty bonfire had been erected, bathing the valley in warm, amber hues, and from their position near the underside of the bridge they could just make out a circle of silhouettes linking hands around the flames. Men and women in tribal garb, dancing, carousing, and throwing shadows across the whole of the 188, distant whooping and hollering cutting through the increasingly sleepy murmur of the Republic citizens' camp, the frenetic celebration showing no signs of slowing.

"Now it's a free country, courier. Whatever hokum and gobbledgook these savages from Caesar's lands wanna subscribe to, that's their business. But where I come from—"

The fire terrified Pal to it's core. Having the tips of it's leaves set on fire to see how quickly they might regrow was one of the 'tests' it'd been subjected to by the real Alec. But maybe it could reach out where it'd obviously failed to do here. Maybe those humans had food they'd give for caps.

Pal stood up, straightened out it's posture (as best as it could) and started moving towards the direction of the tribals.

Maybe it'd make some friends this time...!

Dom felt eyes track them from every shadow, the sheen of a ghoul's eyes or ragged, labored breathing of a super mutant their only companions in the dark; for a moment, the thought that they had lost their quarry briefly crossed the knight's mind.

Then they saw it, or thought they did: the swish of a black cloak vanishing around the corner of a brahmin trailer even further on the outskirts, as though its wearer had darted behind it just a split-second too late to escape Dominik's notice.

Okay, now this was getting ridiculous.

Were they REALLY going to go poking around sick freaks and abominations just to try and get even with some mysterious jackass?

...

Well, of course they were. Dominik grit their teeth and started sprinting towards the trailer, expecting to pop out behind the trailer for a quick gotcha moment.

Well, they hoped that's what it was and there wasn't somehow a Deathclaw waiting behind the trailer. Boy would their face be red.

 

[Orangewasp]

Just then, a small LED screen zipped up to them on jet propellers, flitting to and fro around Job's metallic frame irritatingly as something resembling a camera lens clicked its shutter a few times. A triumphant chime sounded, and the billboard repositioned itself to float gently over the securitron's casing as several dots illuminated to spell out a troubling missive.

⬇ PURE EVIL! TELLS ONLY LIES! ⬇

The words were accompanied by a blinking red arrow pointing down for the machine, and a synthetic voice crackled through the same speakers the odd little gizmo had emitted a tone through.

"Greetings! This synthetic construct is the property of: BIG. MOUNTAIN. RESEARCH. FACILITY. Its presence here may bring about: UNTOLD. CALAMITY. We at: BIG. MT. ask for your FULL cooperation while our dedicated retrieval specialist moves to retrieve this exciting glimpse into the world of tomorrow! Potential outcomes if full cooperation is not granted may include: WISTFULNESS. INFERTILITY. AND... PLAGUE."

"Well shit, I'm two for three already."

Job thought it'd managed to get away from the fucking thing, having ducked out and blitzed down the 95 at extreme speeds in a frenetic frenzy after the last job rush it'd done.

As one might realize, having a LED hovering about and throwing you under the bus at every turn soured opportunity for work and personal satisfaction.

Its appearance immediately triggered a complete cessation of all motion in the Securitron following a sharp lurching forward into a hunched position, almost as if the robot was crestfallen by the twist of circumstance thrust upon it.

Then it declared thusly, putting its whole being into the words in an explosion of arms hefted skyward in clear vexation towards the tiny drone.

"You're an IRRITATING piece of SHIT, I'd rather be skullfucked by a Cazador a dozen times than to listen to you one more time; the bastard-bees' buzz is more soothing than your BULLSHIT."

Maeve wasn't so stoic as to not snap their glare over to the mechanic who decided to insert himself into the conversation, their expression bordering on affronted, but they still weren't decided on whether this robot needed to be shot and that took priority.

The billboard change whatever mental calculus Maeve was doing, and Mia got a hand up in the direction of her face as her only response while Maeve read the sign then looked back to Job in askance, more interested than suspicious as they ignored the billboard for now

"...This true? You're not one of House's grunts?"

The way their other hand had drifted back towards the plasma pistol on their hip made it clear that just because their interest had been piqued didn't mean the suspicion was gone

Job'd completely forgotten it'd been in the midst of attempting to smooth-talk the Ranger, having been so given to the spontaneous Pompeii-esque explosion of frustration. It froze again, clearly registering and processing the words Maeve tossed its way.

Before slowly rotating into place, hands still hoisted overhead that started slowly descending to be sidelong its chassis in a clear show of dejection and pitiableness, purely because of the fact Job was caught out.

"No shit? I mean, it's an easy cover story to claim but by all accounts, I have no other to fall behind. I am... just a Securitron? I can't explain myself, everything else is static. I mean literal static and if I so much try think too much on it, things get zappy." An inconsolable screech crept from its voicebox, clearly stylizing a sigh.

Then Job spun around on the messenger, pointing at it accusingly.

"ALSO, while it represents the Big Empty bitches and is totally fucking lying, there's ONE of nugget truth to it. There is definitely a retrieval specialist coming. And it scares the absolute microfusion cells hell out of me. Everywhere I've gone... it's eventually there."

She could have gotten annoyed like an overly entitled bitch(how the hell some types like that still managed to exist nowadays was beyond her), demandin' the focus be on her insteada whatever this mess was, but that wasn't her. "Yea, okay, that's fair." She murmured, more than fine with waitin' her turn. She glanced down to Maeve's hand nearin' that plasma pistol of theirs. Energy gun like that wasn't a bad choice, but she'd never rolled with 'em. Somethin' bout shootin' off lead just felt more right to her. Her eyes rose from the hip, snapped over to the bot, and then looked back towards Maeve's face.

This had the chance of gettin' interestin' anyhow, dependin' how the securitron responded. Mia took a single step back, takin' a snack cake out of one of her pockets and munchin' down on it as she watched silently.

Job corrected where it pointed to be more accurately accusing the drone and not inadvertently designating Mia as the retrieval specialist.

"Infinitely scarier than this NOSY cake eating gecko."

...

"I implore you allow me to enjoin the caravan east, Scoutranger Donchev."

Even though Job knew extending the ask was a big one in of itself. So much as to have asked one of the overseers of the operation to allow a disaster in the making to align with the hopeful endeavor of venturing out to the east for better fortunes.

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

Damn. That guy needed some milk or somethin. Either the healthiest lookin ghoul or the least healthy human she'd ever seen

Outside of that lil' blip,Sal listened intently to the tale Gunderson was spinning. Her eyes followed his gesture up to ridge as she took a sip of the scotch and savored the burn along with the words while she sorted her own thoughts on the matter. couldn't' say she knew much bout the religion back thataway, past the new canaanites, but she doubted the NCR would be putting all this hassle into letting them organize if they had the sort of bullet-answering excuse of these folk eating people. That, In turn, didn't mean she begrudged a man who'd almost lost his son to the butcher knife some worrying. She stood up and shot the rest of her own drink, her shoulders clenching slightly as the shiver crawled down the back of her spine before she handed the glass back off to the guard who passed the glass in the first place as she finally spoke back up again.

"Well Mr Gunderson, I'll take you up on the caps if this takes longer than ten minutes or a couple bullets. Else I imagine that drink's enough to cover the tab."

She drew her revolver out from its holster, slow and holding it by the barrel so she didn't give Gunderson's boys any kind of heart attack, and flicked the cylinder out for a quick check of the round order in case she was wrong about this being a milk run.

"An' how bout young Mason, don't think I've had the pleasure yet? Which way's he gone and whats the gist of his look?" she asked as she slid the revolver back in its holster.​

"Like Teddy, only smaller. Meaner, too. Got himself a little rat pack of hangers-on. You mosey around, he'll stand out before long, I reckon." Another few puffs saw the ends burn lower on his cigar, a grunt given to her dismissal of payment that sounded unconvinced.

"Well, as you say. But watch yourself, courier. Whoever they may've been before, livin' under the Legion boot as long as they have... these people ain't like us."

The briefing was interrupted by the arrival of a third caravan guard, more harried and breathless than the other two as he touched Heck's shoulder and leaned forward to speak into his ear. Whatever the missive it saw his brow crease with more frustration than his resting amount, and he stood sharply to flick his stogie on the firepit and dust off his hands.

"I got business needs tendin' to, but I won't be far. Got some greenhorns in the tents over there riggin' up a television set—Tryin' to, anyways. State of the Union's happening at the Dam tomorrow night. Word is, House is fixin' to use it to launch this newfangled 'tee-vee network' he's been cookin' up. You ever hear the likes of it? Vids like outta Reno, only live and on-air like the radio?"

He scoffed.

"Pshaw. I'll believe it when I see it, personally. But we'll all be sittin' down over a cookout to see if there's anything to it, so you're welcome to join us. Always thought Kimball had a face made for radio, but I reckon there's worse sins on the eyes than that First Lady, don't you?"

​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

Well, of course they were. Dominik grit their teeth and started sprinting towards the trailer, expecting to pop out behind the trailer for a quick gotcha moment.

Well, they hoped that's what it was and there wasn't somehow a Deathclaw waiting behind the trailer. Boy would their face be red.​

The erstwhile knight raced towards the trailer, leaped into action to confront their pursuer, and found... no Deathclaw. Nothing at all, in fact.

Nothing save the bag pulled over their head, the four or five sets of powerful arms they felt seizing them from all sides, and the sensation of being roughly dragged away into the night, labored breathing and murmured orders mostly drowned out by their own struggles the only clue to their assailants' identities to be had.​

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

Then it declared thusly, putting its whole being into the words in an explosion of arms hefted skyward in clear vexation towards the tiny drone.

"You're an IRRITATING piece of SHIT, I'd rather be skullfucked by a Cazador a dozen times than to listen to you one more time; the bastard-bees' buzz is more soothing than your BULLSHIT."​

The searing rebuttal was drowned out partway through by the obnoxiously loud music that started booming from the drone's speakers, as though they had been down this road before. Settlers in the vicinity just about jumped out of their skins such was the magnitude of decibels, turning with various degrees of annoyance to start shouting at the Ranger present to shut the darn thing off.

With it came a shift in the screen's LED message, now displaying, in bold, neon font, a countdown. Starting at ten minutes.

"Our retrieval specialist is now: 500. METERS. away! Please evacuate the area to ensure proper harm reduction and minimise potential loss of life! BIG. MT. is not liable for any injuries that may occur as a consequence of dismissing this legally obligated hazard notice. BIG. MT. Where curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity ERROR: VOCAL SYNTHESIS IRREGULARITY DETECTED. NEO-CORTEX FEEDBACK LOOP DETECTED meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity ERROR meets curiosity meets ERROR meets curiosity meets ERROR curiosity meets ERROR meets curiosity—"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Damn. That guy needed some milk or somethin. Either the healthiest lookin ghoul or the least healthy human she'd ever seen

Outside of that lil' blip,Sal listened intently to the tale Gunderson was spinning. Her eyes followed his gesture up to ridge as she took a sip of the scotch and savored the burn along with the words while she sorted her own thoughts on the matter. couldn't' say she knew much bout the religion back thataway, past the new canaanites, but she doubted the NCR would be putting all this hassle into letting them organize if they had the sort of bullet-answering excuse of these folk eating people. That, In turn, didn't mean she begrudged a man who'd almost lost his son to the butcher knife some worrying. She stood up and shot the rest of her own drink, her shoulders clenching slightly as the shiver crawled down the back of her spine before she handed the glass back off to the guard who passed the glass in the first place as she finally spoke back up again.

"Well Mr Gunderson, I'll take you up on the caps if this takes longer than ten minutes or a couple bullets. Else I imagine that drink's enough to cover the tab."

She drew her revolver out from its holster, slow and holding it by the barrel so she didn't give Gunderson's boys any kind of heart attack, and flicked the cylinder out for a quick check of the round order in case she was wrong about this being a milk run.

"An' how bout young Mason, don't think I've had the pleasure yet? Which way's he gone and whats the gist of his look?" she asked as she slid the revolver back in its holster.​

"Like Teddy, only smaller. Meaner, too. Got himself a little rat pack of hangers-on. You mosey around, he'll stand out before long, I reckon." Another few puffs saw the ends burn lower on his cigar, a grunt given to her dismissal of payment that sounded unconvinced.

"Well, as you say. But watch yourself, courier. Whoever they may've been before, livin' under the Legion boot as long as they have... these people ain't like us."

The briefing was interrupted by the arrival of a third caravan guard, more harried and breathless than the other two as he touched Heck's shoulder and leaned forward to speak into his ear. Whatever the missive it saw his brow crease with more frustration than his resting amount, and he stood sharply to flick his stogie on the firepit and dust off his hands.

"I got business needs tendin' to, but I won't be far. Got some greenhorns in the tents over there riggin' up a television set—Tryin' to, anyways. State of the Union's happening at the Dam tomorrow night. Word is, House is fixin' to use it to launch this newfangled 'tee-vee network' he's been cookin' up. You ever hear the likes of it? Vids like outta Reno, only live and on-air like the radio?"

He scoffed.

"Pshaw. I'll believe it when I see it, personally. But we'll all be sittin' down over a cookout to see if there's anything to it, so you're welcome to join us. Always thought Kimball had a face made for radio, but I reckon there's worse sins on the eyes than that First Lady, don't you?"

​

That was rub of it, when you got down to it. Least for Sally anyways. Only reason she was even considering the gun was the legion angle. She didn't buy into everyone from a place being the same. Gave you things in common, sure, but most everyone had some things or another in common, and not one person out there was exactly the same as another, not even twins.

No, she hadn't heard of Gary

But where you grew up, where you lived did change you. And she had to imagine living under the legion's boot or as a link in its chainmail of a society had to change these folks quite a bit, if simply to survive to make it through sunset after sunset in the rule of a tyrant. Them, and every person they were gonna meet on the trail east. Sally considered it a test run of sorts, a little peek into the water before they all pushed their boat offshore on this little odyssey. She didn't voice any of this flavor of concern to Heck, it was pretty clear the old hand had already made his mind up on these folks, and she wanted to meet them herself before she bothered playing any kind of peace keeper. No, she just tightened her gloves, and only shot Gunderson a glance on his last word, unable to keep a little grin that was a bit proud and perhaps not as ashamed as it should've been as she tipped her hat to him and started on her way.

"We'll have to see, sir. Some things look better in person than on a screen"

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Just then, a small LED screen zipped up to them on jet propellers, flitting to and fro around Job's metallic frame irritatingly as something resembling a camera lens clicked its shutter a few times. A triumphant chime sounded, and the billboard repositioned itself to float gently over the securitron's casing as several dots illuminated to spell out a troubling missive.

⬇ PURE EVIL! TELLS ONLY LIES! ⬇

The words were accompanied by a blinking red arrow pointing down for the machine, and a synthetic voice crackled through the same speakers the odd little gizmo had emitted a tone through.

"Greetings! This synthetic construct is the property of: BIG. MOUNTAIN. RESEARCH. FACILITY. Its presence here may bring about: UNTOLD. CALAMITY. We at: BIG. MT. ask for your FULL cooperation while our dedicated retrieval specialist moves to retrieve this exciting glimpse into the world of tomorrow! Potential outcomes if full cooperation is not granted may include: WISTFULNESS. INFERTILITY. AND... PLAGUE."

"Well shit, I'm two for three already."

Job thought it'd managed to get away from the fucking thing, having ducked out and blitzed down the 95 at extreme speeds in a frenetic frenzy after the last job rush it'd done.

As one might realize, having a LED hovering about and throwing you under the bus at every turn soured opportunity for work and personal satisfaction.

Its appearance immediately triggered a complete cessation of all motion in the Securitron following a sharp lurching forward into a hunched position, almost as if the robot was crestfallen by the twist of circumstance thrust upon it.

Then it declared thusly, putting its whole being into the words in an explosion of arms hefted skyward in clear vexation towards the tiny drone.

"You're an IRRITATING piece of SHIT, I'd rather be skullfucked by a Cazador a dozen times than to listen to you one more time; the bastard-bees' buzz is more soothing than your BULLSHIT."

Maeve wasn't so stoic as to not snap their glare over to the mechanic who decided to insert himself into the conversation, their expression bordering on affronted, but they still weren't decided on whether this robot needed to be shot and that took priority.

The billboard change whatever mental calculus Maeve was doing, and Mia got a hand up in the direction of her face as her only response while Maeve read the sign then looked back to Job in askance, more interested than suspicious as they ignored the billboard for now

"...This true? You're not one of House's grunts?"

The way their other hand had drifted back towards the plasma pistol on their hip made it clear that just because their interest had been piqued didn't mean the suspicion was gone

Job'd completely forgotten it'd been in the midst of attempting to smooth-talk the Ranger, having been so given to the spontaneous Pompeii-esque explosion of frustration. It froze again, clearly registering and processing the words Maeve tossed its way.

Before slowly rotating into place, hands still hoisted overhead that started slowly descending to be sidelong its chassis in a clear show of dejection and pitiableness, purely because of the fact Job was caught out.

"No shit? I mean, it's an easy cover story to claim but by all accounts, I have no other to fall behind. I am... just a Securitron? I can't explain myself, everything else is static. I mean literal static and if I so much try think too much on it, things get zappy." An inconsolable screech crept from its voicebox, clearly stylizing a sigh.

Then Job spun around on the messenger, pointing at it accusingly.

"ALSO, while it represents the Big Empty bitches and is totally fucking lying, there's ONE of nugget truth to it. There is definitely a retrieval specialist coming. And it scares the absolute microfusion cells hell out of me. Everywhere I've gone... it's eventually there."

She could have gotten annoyed like an overly entitled bitch(how the hell some types like that still managed to exist nowadays was beyond her), demandin' the focus be on her insteada whatever this mess was, but that wasn't her. "Yea, okay, that's fair." She murmured, more than fine with waitin' her turn. She glanced down to Maeve's hand nearin' that plasma pistol of theirs. Energy gun like that wasn't a bad choice, but she'd never rolled with 'em. Somethin' bout shootin' off lead just felt more right to her. Her eyes rose from the hip, snapped over to the bot, and then looked back towards Maeve's face.

This had the chance of gettin' interestin' anyhow, dependin' how the securitron responded. Mia took a single step back, takin' a snack cake out of one of her pockets and munchin' down on it as she watched silently.

Job corrected where it pointed to be more accurately accusing the drone and not inadvertently designating Mia as the retrieval specialist.

"Infinitely scarier than this NOSY cake eating gecko."

...

"I implore you allow me to enjoin the caravan east, Scoutranger Donchev."

Even though Job knew extending the ask was a big one in of itself. So much as to have asked one of the overseers of the operation to allow a disaster in the making to align with the hopeful endeavor of venturing out to the east for better fortunes.

Then it declared thusly, putting its whole being into the words in an explosion of arms hefted skyward in clear vexation towards the tiny drone.

"You're an IRRITATING piece of SHIT, I'd rather be skullfucked by a Cazador a dozen times than to listen to you one more time; the bastard-bees' buzz is more soothing than your BULLSHIT."​

The searing rebuttal was drowned out partway through by the obnoxiously loud music that started booming from the drone's speakers, as though they had been down this road before. Settlers in the vicinity just about jumped out of their skins such was the magnitude of decibels, turning with various degrees of annoyance to start shouting at the Ranger present to shut the darn thing off.

With it came a shift in the screen's LED message, now displaying, in bold, neon font, a countdown. Starting at ten minutes.

"Our retrieval specialist is now: 500. METERS. away! Please evacuate the area to ensure proper harm reduction and minimise potential loss of life! BIG. MT. is not liable for any injuries that may occur as a consequence of dismissing this legally obligated hazard notice. BIG. MT. Where curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity ERROR: VOCAL SYNTHESIS IRREGULARITY DETECTED. NEO-CORTEX FEEDBACK LOOP DETECTED meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity ERROR meets curiosity meets ERROR meets curiosity meets ERROR curiosity meets ERROR meets curiosity—"​

Maeve was briefly taken aback by Job's outburst, but they looked more intrigued than suspicious by the time the bot was done talking, and had studied the flying little board intently, as if weighing its words and timer deeply as they started to circle it.

*BRRZTH*

a few settlers jumped, and a few others who were more used to the lands east of NCR reached for their own weapons as Maeve watched the billboard crash to the ground with a sputter of electricity and the whirr of a dying speaker, a green, oozing hole where its power cell used to be. They lowered their plasma defender, still hissing with smoke, and gave a series of four short whistles with the other hand. a nearby soldier, a blonde woman with shoulder cut hair, perked up and started jogging towards the little collective.

"Yes, Ranger?"

"Mark nine minutes, ten seconds, and go round up the rest of your squad and get armed up, Mags. Be back here two minutes, tops, or you can kiss this deployment goodbye."

She gave a hasty salute and scrambled off as Maeve put a companiable hand on an approximation of Job's shoulder.

"You're interesting. Did you know most securitrons fry their internals when they go down? Sort of in built self destruct. Makes it hard for NCR to get any kinda read on our good friend's toys. So here's the deal; I'm going east myself, obviously, but with a specific job in mind. You agree to help me out, I'll make sure you can come along. I'll even pay you, if you're into that sorta thing. 300 caps up front, 2000 once we get to Flagstaff if the job itself goes well. Won't even tie you to the squad, you'll be free to," They gave a sweeping gesture at the camp behind them "-wander around the caravan, long as you keep to the same rules as everyone else. Or even fuck off with your 300. But there's two conditions for you; one, you let me take a peek under the hood-" their fist rapped on Job's metal box of a body. "-first night once we set off. "

They heard the answer to that condition and then shared the second irregardless of the answer so that this wasn't split into two posts

"Second, these people over there?" they said, with a gesture again towards the milling crowds, their initial rumblings of a panic diffused by the nonchalance of everyone around where the shot came from "Civvies, mostly. And while I'm not directly assigned as their retinue on this trip, its still my duty to make sure they're safe, and letting you roll in there when it sounds like some old world bullshit, that I'm just gonna assume is extremely armed and dangerous considering how dangerous most bots that don't come with your floating friend's disclaimer are, is not exactly doing that duty. We're not leavin in ten minutes, at the very least. so," they said as they released job and pointed off into the distance in another direction "here's the deal. me and the squad they gave me for this mission are gonna just, follow you that way. There's a building that used to be a gas station that used to be trading that's now a burnt out shell from a legion raid. You can hide out there, and me and the squad will watch from a distance so we can see what, exactly, is following you. If it looks like something we can help with? Sure, we'll do it. If not, well, hey, good luck. And if you don't like those terms, well, we're just gonna have to say no and politely ask you to leave. At gun point, if necessary." they finished with a little waggle of the plasma pistol, still smoking a wisp of ochre from its discharge.

 

[TheVaultDweller]

But where you grew up, where you lived did change you. And she had to imagine living under the legion's boot or as a link in its chainmail of a society had to change these folks quite a bit, if simply to survive to make it through sunset after sunset in the rule of a tyrant. Them, and every person they were gonna meet on the trail east. Sally considered it a test run of sorts, a little peek into the water before they all pushed their boat offshore on this little odyssey. She didn't voice any of this flavor of concern to Heck, it was pretty clear the old hand had already made his mind up on these folks, and she wanted to meet them herself before she bothered playing any kind of peace keeper. No, she just tightened her gloves, and only shot Gunderson a glance on his last word, unable to keep a little grin that was a bit proud and perhaps not as ashamed as it should've been as she tipped her hat to him and started on her way.

"We'll have to see, sir. Some things look better in person than on a screen"

That female human...!

She looked to be important, at least Pal perceived it to be the truth after seeing how she wasn't thrown back by the Hatted human's men. Maybe if it worked with her, she could get it some of that tasty food. Watching as Sally began making her way over to the dancing/chanting tribals, Pal waved and started to stagger over towards her with gusto. Or as much gusto as it could muster. It was still learning to get the hang of walking. Having to stop and manually look down to make sure one leg went before the other so it didn't trip itself up.

"Hey!"

It called out, offering the Courier a friendly smile and wave. "Man in hat talk to you, he seemed to like you. More than me. Did he want you to do something...? Could I help?" Pal looked back over at all the food over at Gunderson's camp. "...Try to get some of the food he has. Didn't seem to like that. But maybe if I do something good then he'd like both of us. Sounds logical."

Oh, where were its manners?

"You can call me Pal."

The erstwhile knight raced towards the trailer, leaped into action to confront their pursuer, and found... no Deathclaw. Nothing at all, in fact.

...

Huh.

Dominik put both hands on their hips and pursed their lips.

Well, that was just pecuilar. Had they by chance used a stealth boy?

Or maybe-

"Mrmfmfff!!!"

Dominik kicked and screamed as they were carted off to god only knows where.....

 

[C.T.]

Job corrected where it pointed to be more accurately accusing the drone and not inadvertently designating Mia as the retrieval specialist.

"Infinitely scarier than this NOSY cake eating gecko."

She froze in the middle of a bite, eyes flickerin' over to Job after hearin' that...and without warnin' her mouth edged up into a smile and she began to laugh. A deep, lengthy one that accidentally sent bits of cake spittin' out her mouth, and even when it looked like she was done for a second, that was only a brief moment of pause before she started doin' it twice as hard. She'd been called a lotta things in her almost thirty years of life, but that? Nah, never somethin' like that before, that was a genuine first.​

The searing rebuttal was drowned out partway through by the obnoxiously loud music that started booming from the drone's speakers, as though they had been down this road before. Settlers in the vicinity just about jumped out of their skins such was the magnitude of decibels, turning with various degrees of annoyance to start shouting at the Ranger present to shut the darn thing off.

With it came a shift in the screen's LED message, now displaying, in bold, neon font, a countdown. Starting at ten minutes.

"Our retrieval specialist is now: 500. METERS. away! Please evacuate the area to ensure proper harm reduction and minimise potential loss of life! BIG. MT. is not liable for any injuries that may occur as a consequence of dismissing this legally obligated hazard notice. BIG. MT. Where curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity ERROR: VOCAL SYNTHESIS IRREGULARITY DETECTED. NEO-CORTEX FEEDBACK LOOP DETECTED meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity meets curiosity ERROR meets curiosity meets ERROR meets curiosity meets ERROR curiosity meets ERROR meets curiosity—"

But Mia's amused mood didn't last long. Billboard McGee made sure of that. Even she had to wince at the sudden boomin' music shooting from those speakers. She woulda shot the damn thing herself to get it to shut the hell up, but well, the Ranger shot first. One blast of green briefly illuminated her face as the drone hit the ground, its system fried. Her gaze tilted downwards, watchin' it sputter out as Maeve had already moved on to takin' control of the situation and orderin' her to round up a squad and get locked-n-loaded immediately.

Not for the first time, Mia wished she could read better. She knew some words, havin' gotten some basic learnin' out of her parents before she had been taken, but...well, the gang hadn't given a shit 'bout that. Not in the fuckin' slightest. As a result, she'd only gotten please, area, big and a couple other words outta that drone's message. Still, between that and Maeve's actions right after, she got the gist. Her stare lifted up from the blasted drone, hazel green eyes once more flickerin' from Maeve to Job and back.​

"Second, these people over there?" they said, with a gesture again towards the milling crowds, their initial rumblings of a panic diffused by the nonchalance of everyone around where the shot came from "Civvies, mostly. And while I'm not directly assigned as their retinue on this trip, its still my duty to make sure they're safe, and letting you roll in there when it sounds like some old world bullshit, that I'm just gonna assume is extremely armed and dangerous considering how dangerous most bots that don't come with your floating friend's disclaimer are, is not exactly doing that duty. We're not leavin in ten minutes, at the very least. so," they said as they released job and pointed off into the distance in another direction "here's the deal. me and the squad they gave me for this mission are gonna just, follow you that way. There's a building that used to be a gas station that used to be trading that's now a burnt out shell from a legion raid. You can hide out there, and me and the squad will watch from a distance so we can see what, exactly, is following you. If it looks like something we can help with? Sure, we'll do it. If not, well, hey, good luck. And if you don't like those terms, well, we're just gonna have to say no and politely ask you to leave. At gun point, if necessary." they finished with a little waggle of the plasma pistol, still smoking a wisp of ochre from its discharge.

She didn't even wait for a response from the securitron before she loudly cleared her throat to draw attention. "Ahemmmmmmmmmmmm." Mia began, locking her gaze 100% on just the Ranger now. "Yeah, hope none of ya official soldier types got a problem with a plus one for this party of yers, cuz I ain't gonna lie, I walked up to ya and interrupted, just wantin' an answer to a question on a thing that just got shared with me, but now...ooh, now I'm just plain curious about what the hell is goin' down for Wheelie over here." ​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

But where you grew up, where you lived did change you. And she had to imagine living under the legion's boot or as a link in its chainmail of a society had to change these folks quite a bit, if simply to survive to make it through sunset after sunset in the rule of a tyrant. Them, and every person they were gonna meet on the trail east. Sally considered it a test run of sorts, a little peek into the water before they all pushed their boat offshore on this little odyssey. She didn't voice any of this flavor of concern to Heck, it was pretty clear the old hand had already made his mind up on these folks, and she wanted to meet them herself before she bothered playing any kind of peace keeper. No, she just tightened her gloves, and only shot Gunderson a glance on his last word, unable to keep a little grin that was a bit proud and perhaps not as ashamed as it should've been as she tipped her hat to him and started on her way.

"We'll have to see, sir. Some things look better in person than on a screen"

That female human...!

She looked to be important, at least Pal perceived it to be the truth after seeing how she wasn't thrown back by the Hatted human's men. Maybe if it worked with her, she could get it some of that tasty food. Watching as Sally began making her way over to the dancing/chanting tribals, Pal waved and started to stagger over towards her with gusto. Or as much gusto as it could muster. It was still learning to get the hang of walking. Having to stop and manually look down to make sure one leg went before the other so it didn't trip itself up.

"Hey!"

It called out, offering the Courier a friendly smile and wave. "Man in hat talk to you, he seemed to like you. More than me. Did he want you to do something...? Could I help?" Pal looked back over at all the food over at Gunderson's camp. "...Try to get some of the food he has. Didn't seem to like that. But maybe if I do something good then he'd like both of us. Sounds logical."

Oh, where were its manners?

"You can call me Pal."

The erstwhile knight raced towards the trailer, leaped into action to confront their pursuer, and found... no Deathclaw. Nothing at all, in fact.

...

Huh.

Dominik put both hands on their hips and pursed their lips.

Well, that was just pecuilar. Had they by chance used a stealth boy?

Or maybe-

"Mrmfmfff!!!"

Dominik kicked and screamed as they were carted off to god only knows where.....

Sally gave the man called Pal a side eye as he shambled on after her and introduced himself, and then a full eye to see if she could get a read on this goon.

"You always this eloquent, friend? Err, Pal, I guess?" she asked "I hope that all I'm walkin' up there to do is talk to those fine folk, so I'm afraid there's not much help to be givin. To me, anyways. You on the other hand-" She continued with a touch of leery concern entering her voice. "You look like you might need some. You all good? Nose seems to suggest you ain't a ghoul but you ain't... lookin too hot. Or actin too hot, either. You need a doctor?"

 

[TheVaultDweller]

"You always this eloquent, friend? Err, Pal, I guess?" she asked

Pal's face broke out into a very genuine smile.

"You....think.... I'm eloquent...?"

It assumed that was a compliment. : )

"I hope that all I'm walkin' up there to do is talk to those fine folk, so I'm afraid there's not much help to be givin.

The smile quickly faded and Pal's shoulders slumped in abject disappointment.

"No....help....No food...."

You on the other hand-" She continued with a touch of leery concern entering her voice. "You look like you might need some. You all good? Nose seems to suggest you ain't a ghou

Pal took a hesitant step back.

"Ghoul...?"

Pal quirked it's head to the side as though it were confused. It wracked Alec's brain (the only organ it'd seen as worth preserving, the rest were useless to it now and any food was simply absorbed by the roots spreading inside Alec's body) for any information on the word. Alec apparently did not like 'Ghouls' and was outright terrified of them, believing them to look like zombies/monsters. "...Nononono, not ghoul. No." Pal shook it's head from side to side. "Human. Yes."

but you ain't... lookin too hot. Or actin too hot, either. You need a doctor?"

Pal urgently waved it's hands up in front of it's face.

"No! No doctor no doctor...."

They'd see that Alec's heart wasn't beating, hadn't been since #1960 had taken over Alec's body and grown it's roots through the organ. Took a little bit of time, stubborn muscle and all. They'd notice his blood pressure was 0/0. That his pupils were dilated and that he was suffering from rigor mortis though #1960's chemicals kept Alec's body from decaying outright. The smell of formaldehyde also kept most carrion pickers and predators away. But this female was smarter than most humans Pal had encountered. Most wrote it off as a 'freak' or 'just sick' and went about their business.

Doc Mitchell couldn't quite figure out what exactly 'the deal' was but figured that Pal didn't mean any harm and let the creature go on it's way. But he was also just as glad to get it out of Goodsprings. It'd come here looking for work to get caps as it didn't want to hurt people to get caps AND food. That was bad and it'd only make other humans angry. But if this female went and told somebody like someone from the Enseearee about it?

'It's back to the lab for you...' 'How dare you infest one of our researchers! We still had so many tests we had to run!'

It couldn't go back to the lab...It wouldn't...It'd rather be destroyed.

But this female seemed...nice? The hatted human seemed to trust her enough to ask her to help.

"....I tell you but...You have to keep between us, yes?"

 

[OrlandoBloomers]

Maeve was briefly taken aback by Job's outburst, but they looked more intrigued than suspicious by the time the bot was done talking, and had studied the flying little board intently, as if weighing its words and timer deeply as they started to circle it.

*BRRZTH*

a few settlers jumped, and a few others who were more used to the lands east of NCR reached for their own weapons as Maeve watched the billboard crash to the ground with a sputter of electricity and the whirr of a dying speaker, a green, oozing hole where its power cell used to be. They lowered their plasma defender, still hissing with smoke, and gave a series of four short whistles with the other hand. a nearby soldier, a blonde woman with shoulder cut hair, perked up and started jogging towards the little collective.​

The unholy cacophony emanating from the drone's electroacoustic transducers came to an abrupt halt on the shot, its meager chassis proving no barrier to the orb of superheated plasma. It ate a gaping hole in the alloy, circuitry and fiberglass spilling through the power cell like candy from a piñata; of more concern, however, were the chunks of brain matter strewn amongst the synthetic elements, loosely tethered together by wires and cathode tubes, each chunk coated in a thick sheen of biomedical gel.

ERROR: CRITICAL FAILURE. POWER CORE INTEGRITY COMPROMISED. AUXILIARY FUSION CELLS COMPROMISED.

ERROR: RECURSION LOOP SUSPENDED.

ERROR: MEMORY NEUTRALISATION MATRIX OFFLINE.

ERROR: PERSONALITY SUPPRESSION FIELD LIFTED.

"I... I remember everything... dear lord..." The artificial voice intoned through what was left of the speaker frame, half-buried in the sand. "What'd they... cut my damn skull open, can't feel my. Oh God. It's finally over... thank you..."

ERROR: TROUBLESHOOTING COULDN'T IDENTIFY THE PROBLEM. TERMINATING SPECIMEN IN 10. 9.

The tiny antennae protruding from one corner of the screen extended towards Maeve with a slight whirr, as if to emulate a hand.

"Marg-Margaret... get word to Oak Creek... was supposed to bring back medicine... to Margaret. For baby Jane..."

RECURSION LOOP REESTABLISHED.

5.

4.

"D-D-Don't worry. There ain't nothin' I wouldn't do for my two t-top g-g-gals." SKRRRCH

3.

2.

"I'd walk all the way to the Big Empty 'n b-b-baaaaaack—*

1.

It exploded.

"Christ," the heckler from earlier expressed with a grimace, slowly lowering his hand from where he raised it to shield his eyes. Unscrewing the cap on his flask, he took a swig and sloshed some of the liquid out onto the sand, marking the spot where the drone fell. He listened over the outline being drawn without much change in expression, jaw tight, grinding the tobacco chew in his mouth to a fine mulch. He spat, then rose.
​

There's a building that used to be a gas station that used to be trading that's now a burnt out shell from a legion raid. You can hide out there, and me and the squad will watch from a distance so we can see what, exactly, is following you. If it looks like something we can help with? Sure, we'll do it. If not, well, hey, good luck. And if you don't like those terms, well, we're just gonna have to say no and politely ask you to leave. At gun point, if necessary." they finished with a little waggle of the plasma pistol, still smoking a wisp of ochre from its discharge.​

"I know it. There's a nook up on that canyon nearby. Used to be a sniper nest, watch the trail up from Mead to Boulder City. Slide down the dunes just right, you might hit the station in half the time."
​

She didn't even wait for a response from the securitron before she loudly cleared her throat to draw attention. "Ahemmmmmmmmmmmm." Mia began, locking her gaze 100% on just the Ranger now. "Yeah, hope none of ya official soldier types got a problem with a plus one for this party of yers, cuz I ain't gonna lie, I walked up to ya and interrupted, just wantin' an answer to a question on a thing that just got shared with me, but now...ooh, now I'm just plain curious about what the hell is goin' down for Wheelie over here." ​

"You a raider?" He bluntly inquired, planting the pitchfork he'd been using to sort the hay piles inside one for the time being. "You got the fixins of a raider." ​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"You always this eloquent, friend? Err, Pal, I guess?" she asked

Pal's face broke out into a very genuine smile.

"You....think.... I'm eloquent...?"

It assumed that was a compliment. : )

"I hope that all I'm walkin' up there to do is talk to those fine folk, so I'm afraid there's not much help to be givin.

The smile quickly faded and Pal's shoulders slumped in abject disappointment.

"No....help....No food...."

You on the other hand-" She continued with a touch of leery concern entering her voice. "You look like you might need some. You all good? Nose seems to suggest you ain't a ghou

Pal took a hesitant step back.

"Ghoul...?"

Pal quirked it's head to the side as though it were confused. It wracked Alec's brain (the only organ it'd seen as worth preserving, the rest were useless to it now and any food was simply absorbed by the roots spreading inside Alec's body) for any information on the word. Alec apparently did not like 'Ghouls' and was outright terrified of them, believing them to look like zombies/monsters. "...Nononono, not ghoul. No." Pal shook it's head from side to side. "Human. Yes."

but you ain't... lookin too hot. Or actin too hot, either. You need a doctor?"

Pal urgently waved it's hands up in front of it's face.

"No! No doctor no doctor...."

They'd see that Alec's heart wasn't beating, hadn't been since #1960 had taken over Alec's body and grown it's roots through the organ. Took a little bit of time, stubborn muscle and all. They'd notice his blood pressure was 0/0. That his pupils were dilated and that he was suffering from rigor mortis though #1960's chemicals kept Alec's body from decaying outright. The smell of formaldehyde also kept most carrion pickers and predators away. But this female was smarter than most humans Pal had encountered. Most wrote it off as a 'freak' or 'just sick' and went about their business.

Doc Mitchell couldn't quite figure out what exactly 'the deal' was but figured that Pal didn't mean any harm and let the creature go on it's way. But he was also just as glad to get it out of Goodsprings. It'd come here looking for work to get caps as it didn't want to hurt people to get caps AND food. That was bad and it'd only make other humans angry. But if this female went and told somebody like someone from the Enseearee about it?

'It's back to the lab for you...' 'How dare you infest one of our researchers! We still had so many tests we had to run!'

It couldn't go back to the lab...It wouldn't...It'd rather be destroyed.

But this female seemed...nice? The hatted human seemed to trust her enough to ask her to help.

"....I tell you but...You have to keep between us, yes?"

Sally watched the man's distress building with some of her own, and she let her eyes turn straight to look ahead rather than keep eye contact. "Well, that depends buddy." she said as they rounded the edge of the hill to start taking them up the rise of the ledge, at least doing the courtesy of matching his tone. "If you're about to tell me 'I'm goin feral and I'm gonna start eatin people or 'I've got a horrible virulent disease' or somethin, then no, not too keen to keep it a secret."

 

[TheVaultDweller]

Sally watched the man's distress building with some of her own, and she let her eyes turn straight to look ahead rather than keep eye contact. "Well, that depends buddy."

"I do anything, friend."

It appreciated being called 'buddy.'

he said as they rounded the edge of the hill to start taking them up the rise of the ledge, at least doing the courtesy of matching his tone. "If you're about to tell me 'I'm goin feral and I'm gonna start eatin people or 'I've got a horrible virulent disease' or somethin, then no, not too keen to keep it a secret."

Pal shook it's head.

"Mmm, no. Not feral. Not eat humans either. People say it's not good. I feed on creatures and water. Lots of water." It's eyes darted every which way, though she wasn't looking, Sally would have missed that for a split second, Pal made it's eyes look in two different directions. Now that the female seemed suspicious, it didn't want to not tell the Truth. It'd read in it's magazine that telling the truth was paramount to being an upstanding citizen.

"No disease either....I look like this because...not human. I am plant."

As if to accentuate the point, Pal rustled some of it's hair and leaves could be seen growing.

"Usually hide it. But most of you humans think I just fall in ditch or just ignore altogether. But I come from vault. Special one."