Fandom Fallout Big Apple

[ManofManyRoles]

The Big Apple; Harlem, Midnight

The sound of boots rushing through water puddles echoed through back alley's, a lone figure running for their very life in the dead of midnight. She had to get away, she just had to reach the docks and it'd be fine! She could reach the island, plead a case of some kind, tell a lie...anything! She'd be safe there! Her pocket felt heavy, even with just a simple holotape stowed there it felt like it weight tons. She'd risked everything for this little stunt, and she couldn't fall short now! How long had she spent gaining trust? How many vows and promises did she break? It didn't matter, people had to know! This was too far, even by her standards! She rounded a corner ahead of her, she was almost there. Just this corner and...wham. She ran face first into a solid figure in a large metal suit, eyes going wide in terror. She didn't even have a chance to scream before she felt a gauntlet clad fist collide with her temple, sending her sprawling to the ground with a whimper. "Oh, Rebecca. This is just sad, you know that?" The figure's voice was a gruff male voice, leaking with malice through power armor. The woman tried to scramble away, only to be pinned down by a metal boot on her stomach. "You can't do this...you know this is wrong!" she barked. "Entirely a subjective view. You should know better to have your opinion sully your work, doctor. You're such a brilliant mind...where did it fall short?"

Behind the massive figure came a soft 'tut tut', a woman dressed in a beige uniform strolling up from behind him. "Take your foot off of her. You're not a savage, and she's not a bug you're meant to squash." Kneeling down beside the bruised woman she slowly pat her down, removing a holotape with a Cheshire Cat smile. "There we are. You know better than to run off with these things, don't you?" The woman on the ground gulped as a metal foot was removed from her stomach, a laser rifle trained on her from the power-armored male. "What...what are you going to do to me?" The fear in the woman's voice was evident, eyes wide, only to blink in surprise as a gloved hand was offered to her. "Why, we're taking you home, doctor. You'll find a lovely new assignment there, you know...on project Clear Mind." The woman quickly back peddled, shaking her head frantically. "No...no no no, you can't do that to me! I don't want to!" The uniformed woman clicked her tongue, standing upright and dusting herself off, knees dirtied from filthy water. "That's going to take forever to wash out...Anderson? Take her in. Alive." There was a nod from the figure as the woman turned around, quickly standing upright as she started to sprint away. "I'll give her a head start..."

She'd failed. Everything on that tape...they had it again. All of this for nothing. She had nothing left, she just had to run. Maybe she could head towards the Capitol...nowhere in New York would be able to hide her now. Such thoughts were in vain before the heavy thud of metal feet on the ground came up behind her, hydraulics huffing with each step. She managed a scream of terror as she looked behind her, a metal fist meeting her face and sending her down. But such was the nature of the wastes that a scream was common...and no one would want to risk running into whatever caused it.

The Big Apple; Central Park, 10 am
It'd been approximately half a month since the NCR trade caravan had arrived in New York, guarded by troopers lead by Colonel Wither, and a detachment of rangers headed by an old Veteran. The caravan itself had set up shop in in Central Park, the massive collection of smaller settlements and camps making it a natural trade hub. From corner to corner, and even to abandoned buildings around the park, it buzzed with life. Shop keeps barking deals and haggling with other wastelanders and children running about in play. The military aid to the convoy had taken up post in a small highrise that had been recently vacated by a group of settlers who had journeyed to a new location nearby, searching for greener pastures in an old bank, the recently uncovered bank vault inside proving to house a plethora of old world medicine and preserved food...and a few skeletons. Well, first come first serve, as they say. Patrols of guards walked about Central Park, with a handful of the NCR troopers having 'volunteered' to help in the patrols. 'Building positive relations' Wither called it. Near old taxi posts and signs, cleanly dressed individuals could be found grinning wide and laughing, gossiping amongst each other and cracking jokes about those in the park behind their back. Cabbies, the only faction in New York who had a fleet of repaired and mantained old world vehicles...and the only faction who'd work with anyone provided they had the caps.

It was an odd sight, perhaps, to anyone unfamiliar with New York. Dead center of the park, a large bazaar could be found, rumored to sell anything the heart could desire. Weapons, armor, chems, even a night of passion if you knew how to ask. Stranger still was the collection of faces...Ghouls, Humans, even a few Super Mutants clad in a patchwork of NCR armor that had traveled with the caravan who earned more stares than anyone. There was a unique kind of buzz in the bazaar today, news of some kind of auction to take place within a few hours. What the auction was about, it wasn't clear, but it had been so hyped up over the past month everyone was interested to at least see what this astonishing whatever was that was being sold. The seller was rumored to be some figure from the Capitol Wasteland with a life changing gift to offer. Being it was the only known waste with genuinely pure, clean water...who'd want to run the chance of not seeing if it'd be something of such good fortune?

Posted against a wooden wall that had been erected was a veteran ranger, the red eyes of that black armor surveying the surroundings and keeping track of faces. He reached up, a hand going to the small headset integrated into the antenna of the helmet, the likes of which keyed into short range comms. "Alright. We're two hours from this miracle auction. I'm taking bets on what it's going to be." It was a special kind of privilege for veterans to have radio in the helmet, most NCR troopers needed a ham radio or a clunky handheld. Be that as it may, a few jokes and genuine bets could be heard over the comms, some more static filled than others. Well, at least until a stern male's voice could be heard to interject, "Gardner, as much as I adore your commentary while in the field, could we keep communication clear? If my troops have the time to crack jokes, they have the time to do their jobs."

Jagson Epiphany Jet Lord Moldoma Karcen Specialist​

 

[Specialist]

CND: 100%
LOC: Central Park, NYC, NY - 1000hrs
OBJ: Provide sentry support for Detachment Alpha-1: IN PROGRESS
ITR: N/A
MNT: ManofManyRoles ​

Life found a way to persist and thrive out in the Wastes, and this was no exception. Amidst the concrete husks and spires, cracked asphalt roadways, and rolling fields of dry vegetation, a sanctuary flourished. It was a rarity to see a reconstructed past in the present, and even more so to live among it. Yet this was not her place. However it did not bother her, and she was not left yearning for what could have been, no, no. Her life at present was just fine with her and that was what mattered. The highrise made a good overlook for the sentry of Rangers and doubled as an albeit temporary R&R site, for those more inclined to grumble and moan about having to haul more than twenty pounds of gear on their backs during the occasional patrol around the city limits. Cybil's helmet crackled with dialogue from the strangely jovial Gardner, seconds after being flooded with grumbled responses, bantering barks, and all manner of interjections prior to being silenced by Wither himself. Yet, Cybil never joined in that brief interaction. Instead, standing a few meters off to the left side of Gardner, she had been quietly taking a knee in passive observation of the city, before pressing the magazine release on the bottom of her AK and slotting the mag out to spare the rounds a quick visual inspection before re-inserting, slapping and bumping it back into the mag-well.

Cybil stood upright, taking the assault rifle into her hands and resting the weapon in a low-ready position. Weapon security was merely a suggestion out here, it seemed. Despite the area's relative safety, it didn't mean that either some disgruntled riffraff, chem-addled lunatic, or nightmarish creature wouldn't decide to pick a fight at random. Especially considering the supply lines that the NCR had formally established a few months prior to paving the way for their gradual expansion out of California. She had fought valiantly during the First and Second battles of the Hoover Dam, and more than earned her place as a Ranger, as she knew she would. Truthfully, she never thought of the infiltration into the NCR as just that- it was a volunteer service, and she was more than happy to erase her past in whatever way she was able to. A purpose, an objective, a goal, a cause- all of them noble and just compared to what the Institute would have done if they were to have gained control of the Dam. Nothing good, and that certainty could almost be considered fact. She was where she needed to be, did what she did best to succeed, and go further into the unknown with what she knew. That, to her, was all that needed to be.

 

[Jagson]

"What do you say Krios Radrat tonight?" Marcus said to his Belgium Malinois who sat beside the man. He barked twice Than whimpered. "Your right it's too gamy last thing we need is for big Lu to get sick again." That resulted in a German Shepard barking at him. He chuckled before getting out of his hiding spot and heading to a different one. Behind him three dogs trailed close by.

After walking into the big apple he heard movement and found a new hiding hole. Pulling out his riffle he looked at where the noise was coming from and he froze immediately. Am NCR Caravan was making their way towards where he was. Why were they this far out.

Looking around he found a better vantage spot and pulled his riffle out aiming at one of the rangers. If they stirred up trouble he'd atleast take a couple out before he was gunned down like he should've been all those years ago.

 

[Jet]

​

In the desert was a hole surrounded by five men. They howled with laughter as they drew guns from their holsters, their smiles cruel and sadistic. "End of the road Quinn!" Their leader leaned over the hole. "Bucket Head never fails to get his revenge! Bucket Head is king!" He slapped his big helmet. "Bucket Head is lord!"

"Go away," Quinn said. "This is your last chance."

"You're warning us?" Bucket looked at his men. "He's warning us? He warns the Bucket Man! From the bottom of a ditch he warns the Bucket Man!"

"You have no power, worm-man!" Bucket raised his rusty pistol. "You should be begging us for mercy! Go on! Beg!"

"No."

"Then I will shred your body with a thousand bullets! I will mount your head on a spike! I will salt your lands and take your women! Beg for your life worm!"

"I don't feel like it."

"What?" Bucket blinked several times. "Why?"

"I just don't."

Bucket blinked again. "But you'll die?"

"No I won't."

"But?" He looked down at his pistol. "I have a gun!"

"I don't care."

"You don't care if you die?" Bucket frowned with disappointment. "The bucket king doesn't understand? Do you want to die?"

"I'm not going to."

"Boss," one of his men said. "Just shoot him, he's not worth our time."

"I'm the boss here!" Bucket screeched. "I give the orders! I say when we kill him!"

His underling uncomfortably shifted. "Well uh… what do you think boss? Should we kill him now?"

"No." Bucket stared at his men for a solid ten seconds, waiting for the perfect moment to say, "Now we kill him!" He raised his gun and aimed at Quinn's stomach. "Any last words, man of the worm?"

"I'm not sure."

"Not sure? You dare mock me even now!" He pulled the trigger and his pistol immediately exploded, sending shrapnel through his crew. They screamed and hollered as unbeknownst to them, a shard hit one of their grenades.

"Oh happy days!" Said Quinn's sentient metal arm. "Looks like we escaped by the skin of our teeth!"

"Great," Quinn said as the men exploded into red mist, caking him in scraps of bloody sinew. "I told them Jimmy!" He wiped pieces of brain from his face. "I fucking told them didn't I?"

"Sure did boss! But look on the bright side! They died doing what they loved!"

"A fucking inspiration to us all." Quinn climbed from the ditch like a beached whale, sliding across the ground before rolling to his back. "What the hell is wrong with Jersey?"

"Landfills Quinn! The environment has been ruined by the caustic fires of industry! Perhaps we should topple the filthy, God forsaken corporatist state, and replace it with—

"Shut up." Quinn pushed himself to his feet. "Please shut the fuck up."

He wiped his hands clean before beginning his favorite pastime — looting the dead. He was an expert after countless years roaming the wasteland, and was soon the proud owner of a hunting rifle, rusty pistol and two hundred caps. It was a bloody gold mine! "I wonder if New York has better casinos? Whatya say Jimmy?"

"Oh! There's no place like Big Apple! I'd love to take a bite!" Jimmy chuckled like a smarmy little nerd, rambling on as they marched to the distant city. Quinn had never been there but rumors, his most valued source of information, spoke of good gambling, better booze and the best women. So there was no place he'd rather be.

It took him three days to reach town and it was a complete, utter mess. He wasn't surprised but the rats were on a different level. They were big, mean bastards who stalked the streets like wolves, but Quinn was an expert hunter. He only missed sixty percent of his shots while killing the damn creatures, and arrived in Central Park with less bullets than fingers. "Look Jimmy. The American dream."

"The exploitation of labor by the bourgeoisie? The never ending grind of consensual slavery!"

"No," Quinn dramatically paused. "A strip mall." His eyes widened and the stores seemed to glow, singing hymns of over-spending and bottomless debt.

By God it was beautiful.

"Hey there." He walked up to a merchant. "What kind of guns you got?"

"Everything sir!" The man literally rubbed his hands together. "From the finest energy weapons to magnums, miniguns and even this!" He proudly pointed at a mini-nuke. "The tasteful buyer will find my wares to his liking!"

"How much does your stuff cost?"

"Well sir." The man expectantly smiled. "What is your price point."

"I've got 200 caps, but I can't spend it all in one place." Quinn reached into his pack. "And I can trade you this." He held out a dead rat by its tail.

The merchant's smile froze in place as his soul, both fragile and greedy, broke into a thousand pieces. "Two—

"Two hundred caps and—

"A dead rat." He patted Quinn's shoulder like a disappointed dad. "Leave now or I will call the guards."

"What?" Quinn smacked away his hand. "My money ain't good?" He violently gestured with the rat still in his hand, hitting it against the display case.

"Sir!" The merchant slapped his table. "Leave my store! Be gone with you!"

"No! Take the fucking rat!"

"Fuck you!"

"No you!"

"Hey!" said a guard from behind. "We have a problem here?"

"Yes," both men said in unison.

The guards face dropped as he realized, like so many officers in the wacky wasteland, he was now involved in bottomless, unsolvable stupidity.

 

[Epiphany]

The ride over from Staten Island wasn't bad. For most people, 'not bad' meant avoiding sea sickness or ancient boats not breaking down or a stray wave dumping them in the water. For her, 'not bad' meant she didn't have to shoot any of the highly enthusiastic sealife that discouraged visitors from stopping by. Just the way the Ladies of Liberty liked it. Hell, she'd be back there with them.

But she had a job to do. She had someone to find.

Sarah Kennedy swept dark hair out of her face and leaned forward slightly as she made the Docks. People here were rough, as rough or rougher than many other places she'd passed through, but they mostly left her alone and that was a damn sight better than a lot of folks. In the past five years of 'freedom', Sarah had slowly come to realize that she was a good looking woman and, everywhere, there were often a few who saw some advantage of theirs in that. Convincing them otherwise was often confrontational, sometimes bloody, occasionally lethal. At least these people had seen her come and go enough times to know better, and maybe most were better than that anyway.

The walk was uneventful but never one to take for granted. Broken buildings, ruined and rusted out cars, trash everywhere still persisted all these years later. Countless opportunities to find an ambush, to find someone stoned on Jet tucked away, or bump into a scavenger looking for something worth selling. This was the main route between the Docks and Central Park, though, so there were both more people about and less trouble being borrowed. If you looked like you'd been here a hundred times and were too busy to stop for conversation, most people left you alone and right now that suited her.

At some point, Sarah knew she'd need to start asking people questions on if they'd seen her sister-in-law, Chen Sun. But she wasn't that desperate yet. First, she'd try the information brokers. The Central Park Settlements weren't a bad place to begin that conversation.

The Courser finally reached the boundaries of those settlements. Most of her gear was packed away in a heavy pack that she carried with an ease that suggested there was nothing in there but old aluminum cans. Her rifle and shotgun, though, she kept wrapped in tattered, worn carrying case on a strap over her left shoulder. Her right arm kept open and clear, so she could draw her pistol at a moment's notice if someone gave her reason to. Shouldn't happen, though. This place enjoyed a kind of ceasefire about it, one she intended to take full advantage of.

With a lift of one eyebrow, Sarah Kennedy started catching side talk about an auction. Something unusual and surprising. Seemed an hour or two off but it couldn't hurt to stop by. She hadn't seen slaves being sold here, not that she could remember, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. Chen might be there, for sale. And if not, maybe people who might know more.

At which point she noticed the NCR patrols. The other eyebrow went up. Who the hell were they?

 

[Lord Moldoma]

The Big Apple, City of Amnesia. Some 300 Years ago it was once the capital of the world. Then, the skies went gray, and the land was salted with radioactive glass. Nobody knows who exactly fired the first Nukes. But when it did happen, everyone else soon followed. Perhaps it was always the destiny of humanity to change the world, for better or for worse.

It's best not to think about it, especially not when you're a freakishly tall sun-flower enslaved by the winds of fate. And by the winds of fate, I mean a wasteland psychopath with a pension for having an attractive slave to do with as she pleases.

Parading around mostly naked in a leather harness made of straps meant for a brahmin saddle with a 20 kilogram load on your back is demeaning, but look on the bright-side, you're scary enough that nobody'll fuck with you, especially if they recognize your owner.

"M-Mastress Destiny? Wh-When will we get there, a-and I can sit down...?" Bean asked, looking down at the person who had so politely welded a chain to a shock-collar around her neck, and chained weights to her ankles to make running hard.

"Ha." The girl snorted. "Hell if I know. All I know is some freak who used to work for the Brotherhood says they're interested in you. You know you're more valuable than any normal slave. So whatever the hell they've got to exchange, it better be good. They chose this place 'cause o' the ceasefire. And 'cause it's far enough away from anyone who'd try to kill me or my associates."

In the capital wasteland, bean's was known as Red-Destiny, a bright-orange-haired child born to a raider faction, her red eyes said to glow in the dark with pure bloodlust, 34 at the time of writing. A wild animal even as a child, she got ahold of a blade one day and the rest is history. You wanna talk scary, there's myths about aliens and, wendigos and the mothmen and the interloper, and then there's her. Except she's something you can touch, she's someone that definitely exists.

Of course she wouldn't have a normal slave, She'd have a regenerating supermutant who was completely docile to her. Not loyal, mind you, just unable to bring itself to fight back (Not that it'd win if it tried.)

Why she'd give it up? Well, ex-brotherhood members always had some wacky ass technology. Ice Guns, Alien tech, whatever they could get their grubby mits on to hoard away from anyone else. They were tech-zealots. Whatever Red might be getting out of this could be something game changing. A mini nuke launcher with an experimental Mirv? A rocket-sledge with coils and sawblades? Who knew.

Bean didn't understand any of that. Why someone would need a weapon. Why they couldn't all just work towards a better future. She was stupid like that. She didn't get that it was in human nature to want more and more, and to take from others. Sometimes it made her sad. She thought about how the Master treated her, and how much she loved him as much as a 'Daughter' could.

She thought about her friends back in Unity, before they broke up, and left away to go live in other places.

She thought about Magnet, the psychic girl with the nosebleeds who sat sickly in a bed for most of her days when she wasn't allowed out of her room to read. Who shared all of the visions that she saw of the world outside, and regaled Bean with what the world used to be like 200 years before either of them had been born.

The members of Unity never told her about what happened to Magnet. Other than she just "Wasn't home anymore."

"Ah, but I am gonna miss your fingers." Red says. "You know...."

"Y-Yes.. I... I do remember.." Bean snapped back to reality.

"You can do a hell of a lot with those. Ah, I guess I gotta envy whoever the hell this ex brotherhood goof is." Red says. "Anyway... They said to meet by that strawberry fields place."

 

[Karcen]

Nicola Armstead
Mentions: Lord Moldoma ​

Red destiny, now there was a name Nicola had never thought she would hear again. A rather famous raider back in the day when the capitol had been a lawless land filled to the brim with super mutants and raiders. Despite all it flaws the brotherhood did improve life there if you were human, for everyone else not so much. Nicola would have assumed that Red destiny would have been killed either by the old dangers or during the sweeps of the brotherhood when they had been securing things. Well just like raiders to run to the next hole when someone shines a light in their current one. Normally Nicola would not bother to deal with such people, but this raider had something Nicola wanted, her pet mutant. Really as if keeping humans as slaves wasn't bad enough raiders were keeping mutants as slaves. Those beings already had enough issues without being collared. Still at least the raiders were as dim as they ever were and all you needed to do was say you had been with the brotherhood and had goodies and they would come running. Nicola had no desire to deal with raiders let alone equip them as there was one thing they would want and that was weapons.

The chosen spot, was less than ideal a no fire area. While Nicola respected that rule about as much as she respected the people she was meeting with, having a ton of people coming to reinforce the raider because Nicola had opened fired on them was less than ideal. Well what raiders wanted would play against them, as well they wanted weapons and while Nicola could cobble together some rather high tech gear she had found in her travels she could also alter it some. Namely she could add explosives to the weapons. It had been something of a crunch to get all the scrap and explosives to actually pull this off, but well she didn't need a whole crate of guns. She had needed just enough guns to make it look like the crate was more gun than stuffing.

So Nicola clad as always in her warcasket stood waiting for the Raiders beside her 2 crates each coming up to her knees. They were exactly what you would think when you thought of a weapons create, wood, nails, weapons painted on them. Yeah it wasn't that hard to make them. It did help Nicola had visited some old military areas that had been hastily made pre war and had been rather well scavenged post war. The crates had of course been emptied, but who thought to reuse a weapon's crate. Other places might have as they had to build dwellings, but well why use a small source of material when you had tons everywhere? The crates in truth were only around half full of guns and stuffing and even then it was mostly stuffing, the bottom however, well Nicola had made a bomb. They wanted weapons so Nicola hoped they enjoyed several mini nukes, all she had, rigged to blow and each weapon having a tiny charge made to go with the mini nukes.

Then They came Red destiny and her group of raiders. Nicola and her robots stood waiting only turning slightly to more easily face her and looking as if trying for some privacy. "[b] Red Destiny in the flesh. I have heard tales of you. It still surprises me you were lucky enough to scamper off before the brotherhood got you[/b]" Nicola said trying to sound friendly, but talking wasn't what she was good at and the pleasantries sounded as forced as they were. She however didn't sound nervous, just like someone not really well versed at talking with others.

" Remember plan B" Nicola mentally told her robotic companions. That was run up steal the slave and detonate the weapons if they weren't going to fall for the trap.

" If you had made more ammo i could have used some of the gun instead of just destroying them" Louis responded. The moment he had seen the gauss mini gun he had wanted to play with. The problem was the ammo Nicola had managed to make was rather limited so it was better to just blow it all up over use it in a fire fight.

" Really just stick to the plan" Nicola retorted the chip in her head allowing her mental command of the machines at high enough speed the pause only looked a little unnatural.

Nicola reached into one of the open crate and picked up on of the preloaded weapons. " I am sure you want to know just what i brought. Well i am sure someone as well traveled as you had heard of gauss rifles. Charge them up and they will punch through even a paladin. The problem is they are just so clunky and slow that's what this fixes. " She explained as she pulled out a rather strange looking pistol. looking somewhere between a plasmapistol and a normal one it was a gauss pistol. " Works just like the big one aim charge and fire might not go through a building, but flesh now this will leave a good crater in it. " Nicola explained before pointing it at a tree and taking careful aim. When she fired a blue almost lightning bolt like shot sped into the tree and blew a hole in it.

Nicola put that gun down and picked up another this looked like a mini gun but had the same high tech look as the pistol " And this, is for when something absolutely has to die, take s a moment to charge and spin up but I don't think even liberty prime would last long" She joked not actually shooting this one. The last shot had no doubt drawn eyes but most understood the idea of a demo.

Nicola put the gauss minigun down " Two crates of the highest of high end gear made only of the us government for one slave sounds like a good deal to me so do we have a deal? " Nicola asked the raider woman.

 

[Lord Moldoma]

Nicola Armstead
Mentions: Lord Moldoma ​

Red destiny, now there was a name Nicola had never thought she would hear again. A rather famous raider back in the day when the capitol had been a lawless land filled to the brim with super mutants and raiders. Despite all it flaws the brotherhood did improve life there if you were human, for everyone else not so much. Nicola would have assumed that Red destiny would have been killed either by the old dangers or during the sweeps of the brotherhood when they had been securing things. Well just like raiders to run to the next hole when someone shines a light in their current one. Normally Nicola would not bother to deal with such people, but this raider had something Nicola wanted, her pet mutant. Really as if keeping humans as slaves wasn't bad enough raiders were keeping mutants as slaves. Those beings already had enough issues without being collared. Still at least the raiders were as dim as they ever were and all you needed to do was say you had been with the brotherhood and had goodies and they would come running. Nicola had no desire to deal with raiders let alone equip them as there was one thing they would want and that was weapons.

The chosen spot, was less than ideal a no fire area. While Nicola respected that rule about as much as she respected the people she was meeting with, having a ton of people coming to reinforce the raider because Nicola had opened fired on them was less than ideal. Well what raiders wanted would play against them, as well they wanted weapons and while Nicola could cobble together some rather high tech gear she had found in her travels she could also alter it some. Namely she could add explosives to the weapons. It had been something of a crunch to get all the scrap and explosives to actually pull this off, but well she didn't need a whole crate of guns. She had needed just enough guns to make it look like the crate was more gun than stuffing.

So Nicola clad as always in her warcasket stood waiting for the Raiders beside her 2 crates each coming up to her knees. They were exactly what you would think when you thought of a weapons create, wood, nails, weapons painted on them. Yeah it wasn't that hard to make them. It did help Nicola had visited some old military areas that had been hastily made pre war and had been rather well scavenged post war. The crates had of course been emptied, but who thought to reuse a weapon's crate. Other places might have as they had to build dwellings, but well why use a small source of material when you had tons everywhere? The crates in truth were only around half full of guns and stuffing and even then it was mostly stuffing, the bottom however, well Nicola had made a bomb. They wanted weapons so Nicola hoped they enjoyed several mini nukes, all she had, rigged to blow and each weapon having a tiny charge made to go with the mini nukes.

Then They came Red destiny and her group of raiders. Nicola and her robots stood waiting only turning slightly to more easily face her and looking as if trying for some privacy. "[b] Red Destiny in the flesh. I have heard tales of you. It still surprises me you were lucky enough to scamper off before the brotherhood got you[/b]" Nicola said trying to sound friendly, but talking wasn't what she was good at and the pleasantries sounded as forced as they were. She however didn't sound nervous, just like someone not really well versed at talking with others.

" Remember plan B" Nicola mentally told her robotic companions. That was run up steal the slave and detonate the weapons if they weren't going to fall for the trap.

" If you had made more ammo i could have used some of the gun instead of just destroying them" Louis responded. The moment he had seen the gauss mini gun he had wanted to play with. The problem was the ammo Nicola had managed to make was rather limited so it was better to just blow it all up over use it in a fire fight.

" Really just stick to the plan" Nicola retorted the chip in her head allowing her mental command of the machines at high enough speed the pause only looked a little unnatural.

Nicola reached into one of the open crate and picked up on of the preloaded weapons. " I am sure you want to know just what i brought. Well i am sure someone as well traveled as you had heard of gauss rifles. Charge them up and they will punch through even a paladin. The problem is they are just so clunky and slow that's what this fixes. " She explained as she pulled out a rather strange looking pistol. looking somewhere between a plasmapistol and a normal one it was a gauss pistol. " Works just like the big one aim charge and fire might not go through a building, but flesh now this will leave a good crater in it. " Nicola explained before pointing it at a tree and taking careful aim. When she fired a blue almost lightning bolt like shot sped into the tree and blew a hole in it.

Nicola put that gun down and picked up another this looked like a mini gun but had the same high tech look as the pistol " And this, is for when something absolutely has to die, take s a moment to charge and spin up but I don't think even liberty prime would last long" She joked not actually shooting this one. The last shot had no doubt drawn eyes but most understood the idea of a demo.

Nicola put the gauss minigun down " Two crates of the highest of high end gear made only of the us government for one slave sounds like a good deal to me so do we have a deal? " Nicola asked the raider woman.

"Ha. Please. The brotherhood wouldn't bother. I can't kill them, or even put a dent in their numbers, but they know for a fact that putting the lives on the line of the number it'd take to kill someone like me goes against the law of opportunity cost. Can I atleast inquire why ya' want A lanky mutant like Bean specifically? What on earth are ya' gonna do with a mutant like her?" Destiny asked. "We 'd a old doc who says, judging from the nature o' the patches on her shoulders, that she got made by some freak of nature back in LA called The Master, er somethin', you trying to gather data on him? Cause uh, hate to break it to ya', but 'es dead."

Bean looked saddened by having to be reminded that the Master was dead. Magnets probably was too, for all she knew. The master wasn't a being of good nature, far from it, but she couldn't see it that way, because she had been indoctrinated to think otherwise.

The fact that she had only come with 2 other raiders was disconcerting. One of them wore reconverted Communist powered Armor with spikes mounted on it and garish black and white paint. The other was a man in a dirty, open jacket black suit with a scruffy black-jack beard and a black fedora that covered his eyes. He smoked a cigar, and kept his hands on his pants, obviously keeping them in close proximity to a pistol on his waist.

"Anyway. Doc's old, fat, and he needs to touch grass more. I'd make him, but they don't exactly have a lot of grass back in the middle of nowhere. So I brought the second smartest guy I know in case you were planning for playing me and my cojones for a bunch a fools. He got one o' them damn commie knockoff power-suits back in working order, replaced and refurbished. I was thinkin' though on the way over, that If you're an ex member of the brotherhood, you've probably got intel that they'd be after, in fact you know, there's a chapter o' them that lives here, so just by coming to this place, you endanger yourself. So enemy of my enemy is my friend, and out in the wasteland, a weak armistice is a time when you have to make due." She explains.

"I know them paladin fucks don't take kindly to their own kind leaving them. So I can't imagine you'd choose here of all places unless you genuinely had reason to make a peaceful transfer." She moves over to her ally in the powered armor and hands him the chain.

"Bean's gotta eat, so there's food in that pack of hers if you wanna give her what she says likes... I've gotten attached but... Sometimes for the greater good you gotta let go." It was out of character for Red Destiny to be this emotionally attached to anything, much less her personal slave. "I'm gonna miss her fingers at night... Guess I'll have to find some new chump to keep me company..."

Bean remained quiet... It was true that Destiny had been nice to her in the past few days. And thinking back to it, she was always more of a pet than a slave, but she was a slave nonetheless. It was foreign to feel any emotions for Destiny other than fear.

The man in powered armor with the chain stepped up and walked over to the middle of the memorial, gently leading Bean, since he knew that whenever Destiny was emotional was probably her most violent and he didn't wanna accidentally hurt bean, he dropped the end of the chain that Destiny so often held.

 

[ManofManyRoles]

The Big Apple; Central Park, 10 am

An almost disappointed sigh could be heard from Gardner as he stayed leaned up against the wall he'd chosen to use, a sound vaguely reminiscent of a balloon giving it's last few gasps of air. "Of course, Colonel. I'll keep trooper lines clear." As always, the old man's voice sounded like he had just finished smoking his umpteenth pack of cigarettes for the day, kicking himself off the wall he leaned against to approach the window Cybil was posted at, an arm raised to rest against the wall there then as he looked out through the hole in the wall. Gardner was used to working in silence, and he could do it just fine. After all, Veteran Rangers were meant to be silent as a shadow and deadlier than a Deathclaw...didn't explain why the old man couldn't shut the hell up sometimes, though. "Anything new in the magazine this time, Cybil? I'm going to start keeping tally for the amount of times you check the rifle..." He glanced over towards the woman and then down to the streets below before standing upright, a motion of 'on me'. "C'mon. May as well patrol the ground. With the amount of people flooding into the park today with this auction going on, it's better if we're on the ground in case the promises of 'amazement' and 'wonder' draw the attention of someone a bit less sociable than the average merchant."
Specialist
The situation with Marcus
Be it good fortune, or ill, Marcus was being approached head on by a small caravan of figures. Half a dozen NCR troopers with a single ranger, with at least another half dozen civilians in tow behind them, a large brahmin wandering right behind that grouping as well. Fortunately, be it because Marcus was stealthy or because the troopers were less observant than the average Mole Rat, he didn't seem to be noticed from his hiding space. Though the exact reason...jury was out on that. As they were passing by, their voices carried loud enough that Marcus could make out the conversation thus far.

"I swear to God, Hendricks, just the hell up!" one of the civilians, an older Ghoul male getting on in age, could be heard shouting in frustration towards a youthful faced male in his 20's. "

What!? I ain't sayin' nothin' wrong! I'm just sayin' I could totally make batteries out of soap!"

"I thought you were suggesting making soap out of battieres?" one of the NCR soldiers could be heard replying simply.

"I can do that to! It'll be soap you can wash up with hand then use to power the light besides your bed! And the soap-made batteries can be used when you're short on battery-soap!"

"I think my head is going to pop," a younger teenage girl grumbled, rubbing her temples.

The older male paused, staring at 'Hendricks' dead on as the caravan was continuing on its path...so far, no one aware of Marcus. "Okay, Hendricks. Now who's going to buy this?"

"Central Park will buy anything! That's what we've heard!"

"...Hendricks, why don't you just sell batteries that work like batteries, and soap that works like soap?"

"Nah, that'll never sell."

There was an agonizingly long moment of silence before...SLAP, the old Ghoul cuffed Hendricks upside the head. Well, at least there was confirmation for Marcus that the NCR figures weren't here for him, and more so were interested in trade...though it may have cost a few braincells in the process.
Jagson
The scene Quinn's made
It was one hell of a standoff, the guard's braincells no doubt committing ritualistic suicide to avoid the suffering of what was before him, and Quinn and a Merchant going at it over...two hundred caps and a dead rat. A few of the nearest faces found themselves staring at the scene before quickly hurrying away, giving the weapon sellers booth a wide berth now. Other's simply chose to ignore their very existence. Surely there'd be some sort of intervention from a guard force here, or something, truly? After all, this would interrupt the flow of commerce otherwise! Alas, no such help came. Though, behind Quinn tremors could be felt, the thud thud thud of foot falls that could be felt through the ground and into the very soul before there came a thud of a massive green hand on his shoulder, the size enough it could have picked him up by the waist and used him like a flail if it wanted. "I'll buy rat."

Should Quinn turn around he'd find himself face to chest with a super mutant that was at least a head taller than its ilk, staring down towards Quinn expectantly. Atop his head was a ramshackle helmet with a plastic two-headed bear having been superglued right atop it and armor that sported the same bear on the breastplate...cobbled together by human hands, but having to be custom made to fit a super mutant for certain. "How much do you want for rat?"
Jet
What Sarah See's
Sarah no doubt had been to the Central Park settlements at least a dozen times by now on any number of things, the Ladies of Liberty even had small trade groups they'd send on brief excursions here when they needed supplies they couldn't get on the island. But it was far busier than it had been as of late, it seemed like every other face in Manhattan was here today with the rumors of a 'miracle auction' having been stretched well beyond the point of truth. Such was the game of telephone that one story quickly turned into another, and fact quickly became fiction. What was new, however, was the assortment of military clad individuals...those were new. The Institute never probed that far west to meet or hear of the NCR, and until now the NCR had never gotten this far east. A chance for true anonymity, even if she may not realize it. Troopers meandered about the outskirts of the park before a pair of figures started towards her. A young girl, no more than sixteen and in a blue dress rushed towards her, waving a pamphlet in her hand. Beside her strode a Super Mutant with a greener skin pigment than the east coast sort.

Naturally, Super Mutants on the east coast weren't the most...sociable, there were a few sparse exceptions however. But even then they caused fright. This one, however, was clad in what looked like a large armor set with what looked like a park ranger hat on his head, a thick beard on his face...though, there did seem to be a price tag sticking outside of it....'Grizzly Gary's Emporium! Fine Beard, seven caps!'

The girl rushed up to Sarah with the sort of energy only a youth could muster, with the sort of confidence one could only get with a massive FEV mutant on their side acting like a...bodyguard (?) one could manage. "Hey there, Missus! Do you have a moment to talk? I'm handin' out flyers with Gramps 'bout the NCR, but it's like nobody round here wants nothin' to do with me! Did I do somethin' wrong with my hair today?" "Hair's fine," grumbled the mutant, even if he didn't bother to look at her. "Gramps keep's sayin that, but if you ain't gonna hear me out, 'least tell me I don't look like I'm wearing a rats nest, please?"
Epiphany ​

 

[Karcen]

Nicola Armstead
Mentions: Lord Moldoma ​

The master, there was a name that Nicola had heard far to many times. The super mutants, his greatest creation were practically the brotherhood's favorite enemy. That the master was dead abd the brotherhood had helped the vault dweller was a story told to every squire. The exact details were exaggerated, namely in how much the brotherhood did. The death of the master was an undoubtedly fact and that his legacy lingered an eternal frustration.

" The brotherhood was there for his death. Still there is much to learn from his haphazard work " Nicola explained not wanting go into details after all they wouldn't understand genetics.

Nicola had noticed the power armored raider abd was a little surprised that a raider would have such a relic. That the communists had managed to reverse engineer power armor before the states had do so on their stealth tech was not well known. Nicola would live to study the armor almost as much as one of the legendary stealth suits.

Nicola honestly was annoyed with how much red talked. Nicola just wanted to get the trade done and go,but the woman's rambling actully held information that Nicols had not known of. A forgotten chapter, which was odd as all brotherhood members should have been from Lyons expedition and records stated only the outcasts had split off. Red however had assumed Nicola had been aware of them and had taken comfort in that fact. It almost made Nicola feel guilty about her plan, but she wouldn't give weapons to raiders to go kill innocents.

" The enemy of my enemy " Nicola said not finishing it with how the chapter under Maxon might. His might go is still my enemy. " Perhaps when my research bears fruit we might trade more " Nicola said as she took the chain pretending they would ever meet again. Though anyone able to survive what was packed in the crates would be well wroth studying.

The talk of packing a slave food like she was a kid being sent off to a pre war school made nicola raise her 1 remaining eyebrow under her helmet. Well it didn't matter Nicola didn't really plan on treating bean bad or well keeping her as a slave. Honestly aside from providing DNA samples

"Well then I will take my leave " Nicola said once the chain was firmly hers. She would lead her new test subject off waiting for minutes of walking before sending the sognal. weapons and the mini nukes went off. Nicola had set the timer at around half an hour plenty of time yo haul the crates back to whatever hole was the raiders base abd hand out their new toys. Then everything would go up in their own little great war.

 

[Jagson]

Marcus moved quietly getting behind the NCR troopers. "You know it's dangerous out here." He said making his presence known. He raised his gun up in peace. Krios Big Lou and Luna a rotwiller stood right behind him. "Speaking nonsense and not checking surroundings usually lead to an ambush and death." He said taking a step forward. "Hell I bet you all didn't notice a sniper looking at you from over there." He points to where he was hiding "Most people call me Marcus. Have any ammo and rations your able to spare? I got caps and other relics to trade." He said smiling though it didn't reach his eyes.

 

[Lord Moldoma]

Nicola Armstead
Mentions: Lord Moldoma ​

The master, there was a name that Nicola had heard far to many times. The super mutants, his greatest creation were practically the brotherhood's favorite enemy. That the master was dead abd the brotherhood had helped the vault dweller was a story told to every squire. The exact details were exaggerated, namely in how much the brotherhood did. The death of the master was an undoubtedly fact and that his legacy lingered an eternal frustration.

" The brotherhood was there for his death. Still there is much to learn from his haphazard work " Nicola explained not wanting go into details after all they wouldn't understand genetics.

Nicola had noticed the power armored raider abd was a little surprised that a raider would have such a relic. That the communists had managed to reverse engineer power armor before the states had do so on their stealth tech was not well known. Nicola would live to study the armor almost as much as one of the legendary stealth suits.

Nicola honestly was annoyed with how much red talked. Nicola just wanted to get the trade done and go,but the woman's rambling actully held information that Nicols had not known of. A forgotten chapter, which was odd as all brotherhood members should have been from Lyons expedition and records stated only the outcasts had split off. Red however had assumed Nicola had been aware of them and had taken comfort in that fact. It almost made Nicola feel guilty about her plan, but she wouldn't give weapons to raiders to go kill innocents.

" The enemy of my enemy " Nicola said not finishing it with how the chapter under Maxon might. His might go is still my enemy. " Perhaps when my research bears fruit we might trade more " Nicola said as she took the chain pretending they would ever meet again. Though anyone able to survive what was packed in the crates would be well wroth studying.

The talk of packing a slave food like she was a kid being sent off to a pre war school made nicola raise her 1 remaining eyebrow under her helmet. Well it didn't matter Nicola didn't really plan on treating bean bad or well keeping her as a slave. Honestly aside from providing DNA samples

"Well then I will take my leave " Nicola said once the chain was firmly hers. She would lead her new test subject off waiting for minutes of walking before sending the sognal. weapons and the mini nukes went off. Nicola had set the timer at around half an hour plenty of time yo haul the crates back to whatever hole was the raiders base abd hand out their new toys. Then everything would go up in their own little great war.

The departure, for as sudden as it was and for as quickly as the meeting has lasted. Went smoothly. All things considered, Red had kept her word, which was uncharacteristic. She was insane but to be fair, she did see bean as hers. And while she was a very controlling and domineering pet owner, she saw herself as a pet owner nonetheless. But she was still a mass murderer, and a horrible person. Maybe things could’ve been different if she had grown up in a settlement or been born in a vault like the lone wanderer, but that possibility was far in the past. Her invetiavpe death was deserved. Although. There was a chance, farbeit from anyone to say, that even in the face of horrific destruction. She might survive and come back looking for Nicola. If that were the case. It’s likely that Nicola at least would have to keep watch in the future, because anyone who’s lucky or strong enough to survive a nuclear blast, is going to be one hell of a bitch to finish off.

“Mastress destiny got drunk and started kissing me last night… she said she didn’t want me to leave… should I feel bad about leaving with you?” Bean looked directly to Nicola. Asking genuinely as if she was a child needing a question answered. “She looked so sad… I don’t like when people are sad…”

 

[Specialist]

CND: 100%
LOC: Central Park, NYC, NY - 1000hrs > Patrolling the Highrise.
OBJ: Provide sentry support for Detachment Alpha-1: IN PROGRESS
ITR: ManofManyRoles (Jim Gardner)
MNT: ManofManyRoles ​

Cybil had stood up by now, moving to wrap the tan rifle sling the AK was attached to at her right shoulder and across her middle back. The rifle settled in kind; draping across her center torso with the barrel angled down to the left, and the charging handle pointing forward at sternum level. A low-ready patrol style, perfect for a rapid response should anything prove to be a threat. Upon Garder's quip, she spared a visored glance at the gravelly-voiced man prior to responding in the unendingly composed, monotone voice she always had. "I will admit that it has become something of a 'habit' along with the maintenance of my gear, Gardner. For your score-keeping purposes, I have checked this magazine fifteen times since our arrival last month. This would be the sixteenth." Cybil turned on a pivot, attaching her fellow Ranger's left flank and keeping a respectable distance while heading to the ground floor. For his open chattiness, she wasn't close behind Gardner as much as she was off to his side. "Ever since I received improperly reloaded ammo prior to the first battle for the Dam, in which you directly oversaw my operation, no less participated with resounding success, I was sure to never have a malfunction like that occur again. 'A soldier without food will die. A soldier without a weapon during battle will die much faster.' You told us this during our combat preparedness lesson. Plus, I like the sounds." Cybil concluded. It was an answer in earnest as she left the vacuum of conversational silence fill the air, awaiting a reply, or an awkward laugh. That was what she usually seemed to get. One of the two. Or, perhaps more commonly, none at all.

However, Jim was an enigma in his own right. The man never took his helmet off, spoke like he'd been munching on gravel, was tougher than a goddamn Cazador- and was very, very charismatic as a Ranger. Odd, but her surface judgment paled in comparison to immense respect all the same. She followed the man out the door as her visor polarized into a reflective black from the sunlight. She spaced her distance slightly further, hands lax at her sides and eyes on a swivel around the immediate area. The gathering crowd was indeed a spectacle to behold, individuals backed up from the center and made tendrils of meandering people and creatures that spilled out into residing streets, that much was seen from a considerable distance away. Her silence broke once more, a delayed response to Jim's preliminary analysis. "Caravans should sound the alarm before a situation gets too out of control. The Strip was bad, but this is something else entirely."