Multiple Settings Road to Safina: a Post-Apocalyptic road trip through North America.

[Infab]

Fuckin' sunlight. Finally.

As the doors opened and Morgan was struck with a mix of sunlight and fresh air, she breathed deep and sighed. That cell was rancid. It needed both a torching as well as a good wash down. Would it get it? Likely not. They seemed to like sticking people in that filth.

The town hadn't changed, not that it would have anyway. It had only been, what, a night? She did hear some explosions or something in the distance somewhere, but that was probably some idiots playing with things they shouldn't or the military lighting some poor fuck up with a little high explosive ordinance. Speaking of which, she really needed to scrounge around for some forty mike-mikes. The Skullcracker needed ammo for its grenade launcher, and she hadn't seen any since Texas.

That's if she even got her gear back in the first place.

Soon, her attention was drawn towards the front gates, as the soldiers around the band of shackled mercs started to notice some activity there.

“The hell’s going on up there?” one asked.

“Probably some freeloaders causing trouble.” Another replied in a dismissing tone, “Nothin’ crazy ever happens here.”

I guess that guy's half deaf or something. Explosions are pretty crazy.

She rolled her eyes, before looking back to the gate. She noticed that some more MPs had arrived soon enough, geared up and ready to smash some heads in. A smirk appeared on her face. Well well, what do we have here? Did those wasters piss off the locals that much before even setting foot in town?

"Looks like somebody's about to get their shit rocked. And we got seats in the rafters! Nice view." she said aloud, forcing a chuckle from some of the other mercs around her.

 

[Azurian Dream]

"Best to temper ourselves here. Bad business to insult the hand hiring you, and worst business to be known as someone to kill off potential hires," the silent Mist born finally spoke to both Cero, and the MP as he had kept to himself for most of the escalation. Having snuck in between the two on the MP's left, and Cero's right. Before the finale could be triggered the MP who had pulled his pistol first would find it now missing from his grasp, and now in the Mistborn's who spun it around in a few impressively laid out single hand tricks before placing it into a reverse grip offering the MP his own gun back. Cris never struck his head out like this, but the robot's sudden diplomatic approach reminded him of someone long gone, and in respect to that the Mistborn felt it necessary to help that peaceful agenda.

"Regardless such a trek into the vast lands you wish to be covered will need mean spirits like this one, and worst come to shove they'll be dead... better used no," The Mistborn directly asked the MP with a strange sense, not of authority. Yet, of experience, it was a particularly unique skill of persuasion built from neutral facts. While it was undetermined how things would play out from here Cris took this moment to see all those currently signing on.

So far their was a ghoul clearly a professional gunslinger with how his stances laid with his body language a bounty hunter no doubt, a somewhat laid back yet excited half-goliath, a reserved mechanic given his answers to the form, a young girl with a tamed freaker... that was definitely a new sight even for him, the wastelander looking for a fight with the MP, plus his sister, another mistborn like himself who much like himself kept to herself. There was also the unusual robot that had caused him to take action in this situation along with another man coming up next to the robot... there was a strange air on that one.

 

[dikdik]

Upon his arrival at the gates, Aitan found some conglomerate of lawmen passing out paperwork and chatting, more like demonizing, various Wastelanders, the most interesting of which happened to be a glowing-eyed Ghoul verbally assaulting some of the bootlickers gawking at it. Finding himself scraping the remnants of soot onto his pants legs for at least the fourth time, he padded over to an MP waving him down, not without the “don’t steal my shit” lecture leaking out of his food-hole.

“I don’t like the rush.” Aitan mumbled and flipped through the paperwork aimlessly, clicking at the pen’s end until it decided to cooperate. What if he did want to steal the pen? He filled out the papers, bending slightly to bare down on his thigh, careful not to poke a hole through the paper with the tip of the pen. Perhaps he could trade for the pen… He had a wad of cash, enough to feed himself for at least a week, tucked away in his back left pocket. Felt it when he was walking earlier and remembered.

Reluctantly, he clacked the pen back into its barrel and shoved the papers back at the lawman, staring the entire time. With a quick glance around, finally breaking his gaze from the MP, Aitan realized quite a few Wastelanders had arrived and begun filling out presumably the same paperwork as he had. They varied in species, load-out, and-

“Are those fucking children?” His skin crawled right up his back and neck, landing a shiver at the base of his skull. Tan’s eyes flicked back and forth between the tiny, nimble, little brats scurrying like rats under the legs of a behemoth Freak. Tallest one he’d seen in a while. In the last week or two, that is. Giving his hands another shake-and-pat, he seethed at the MP he’d shoved the papers back at. “You guys are just sinking lower and lower, aren’t ya?”

A click of his tongue and swift wave of his wrist, and Aitan was finding a new ciga-butt and his lighter yet again. They really had a way of hookin’ ya, didn’t they. ‘Specially when you mixed in the fun stuff.

Not two damn puffs in and tensions had skyrocketed. One dumbass said one word to many. That’s all it took really. Four large, armored men approached the center of the situation. He just wanted to puff that butt. Couldn’t catch a break. Aitan opted to take a few steps back, hoping he wouldn’t find himself in the middle of the violence that was sure to arise. Not five fucking puffs in and some robot had decided it had the ability to provide a “diplomatic” option to the situation. Aitan stepped back once again, finding the heel of his boot sliding through some green-tinged brown slime.

Bright red plumed across his face as he stamped his foot aggressively against the ground, infuriated at the slime’s audacity! “I fucking hate this stupid fucking town!” He whispered as loudly as he dared, keeping in the back of his head that there may be something dangerous happening in the meantime. Stamping his foot and listening intently, he hoped he was out of the firing line.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Boogey n' Bonnie #91275C
EdwardDewey98 SavannahSmiles ​

As the paper passed from MP to Fang to Bonnie, she couldn't help but smile at the way things turned out. The people with guns may have been wary, but their captain wisely recognized Boogey was harmless. Bonnie sighed relief. "Thank goodness..." She didn't know what to do if Boogey killed everyone here...

Looking at the form, she could only raise a brow. Did expeditions really need this much writing? But... writing is boring! Where would she even begin? Couldn't they just say—

"Bonnie, get back in the sled."

"Huh? Wh—" A hand scooped the girl off her feet. Boogey, who had the same intent, dropped her into the sled. Before she could even protest, he pushed her into the tent. "Hey!" she cried out, puffing her cheeks. She was too focused on the form to see what happened, but if Fang and Boogey wanted this, she couldn't refuse... it didn't frustrate her any less, though. "Fine! I'll sit in here and write!"

Boogey, meanwhile, stared down the boiling crucible. His hands gripped into fists. Guns. Everywhere. All holstered out. This trip left a foul feeling, especially from the moment they entered this town. A saliva-filled growl emanated from the Freak. His tools were bloodied and not as sharp as they once were, but they'd get the job done. If these people only wanted death, then...

He felt a small hand rest over his fist. His grip softened.

From the tent, Bonnie's faint voice cut through. "I don't know what that means... I'll just scribble it out!"

Boogey's growl folded into quiet. He grabbed the sled's handle, still wary of the guns, but preparing for a completely different response.

"All done!" Bonnie's hand shot out the tent, carrying the finished form.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Lucero Cabrera || Overbearing Eldest

• 
  
  ~ The Meetup~
  
  Celebremos Lo Inevitable || Lucero's CS File
  
  “I don’t know… do we have a problem, son?”
  
  He bit back a scoff at the men, that would probably wind up ending with his grey matter lining the street. He recognized the tone, the constant looking down upon him. Heard it before in different shades whether it be pity or confusion or this ever-familiar disgust. They were nothing more than numbers and bodies to these fuckers.
  
  And Mari believed in their cause.
  
  He wanted to split and tell her that there's no way these fools would be helping wastelanders, but now he’d started the game. He watched closely for the reaction of the others around him. The ones who stepped away from the threat, the ones that attacked with logic, the ones that treated any threat not to themselves as a joke, the ones who became outraged, and the ones like his sister who trembled in fear and tried to hide it.
  
  Good, they all had their heads on their shoulders. He’d draw the ire if only to keep it away from whatever hotheaded move Mari was likely to make in the future. Even if his blood boiled at the sight of these fuckers who played at power despite not even being brave enough to handle him one to one.
  
  “No problems here, Sir.”
  
  

  
  
  Interacting With:
  MPs ( EdwardDewey98 )
  

 

[Lost Echo]

Betsy had been watching. Oh, she’d heard the Department of Defense of the United States of America’s message. They were powerful enough to cover all the noise of the city. She knew this was what she had been searching for, hurrying as she thread her bike through the maze of parked cars. She was going to be a hero. Like her parents. Maybe even a leader like Teddy Roosevelt. For now, she would be a Rough Rider for the USA. It was like it was wonderful. All she’d ever dreamed of. It was…

An automatron. The light caught its massive head, cans flaring around like a sun. Putting a foot down, she straddled her bike staring for a moment. There was a lady with ropes for hair working on it. She wanted to see more. Lifting a leg off the bicycle, then began to guide it near, silent as if she were stalking a creature. It was difficult to keep her eyes off the shining metal even as they burned, but she knew her goal. A large truck, one of those with a house inside. Reaching the chipped paint of its surface, she gently, ever so gently laid her bike against it. The noises of the city swallowed the sound. Immediately she moved to the window, stretching on her toes, her nose pressed against the glass. Her hands cupped around her eyes.

Its metal body was huge. Even sitting it seemed to tower above the woman who stood behind it to work. It was strange. Nothing like T33-DY. It was humanoid, but only in that it had limbs and a torso. No one would mistake it for one. Its head was strange, large can-like structures encircled it, imitating hair like a child imitates the sun.

Suddenly something was wrong. A spark, and the woman was scrambling. Betsy’s nails left imprints in the rubber of the window as she held on, her breath taut until the lady calmed. She watched her mouth move with frustration. What she wouldn’t give to know what she said. Instead, some ranting man outside tried to distract her from the strangely calm automatron. She hadn’t realized it was on until then. Could it feel pain? She searched its face for a while the lady used blue fire inside of it. What magic was that? Who could produce fire so easily, yet so contained?

It suddenly moved. She ducked down as he looked out the other side of the truck, worried she’d be seen and it would tell its master. Instead, she heard the door open, and the heavy clang of its steps circle to the front. What? How? Was it an Awakened? She looked back up, seeing the surprise on the woman’s face. It must have done that without permission. In a flash, she grabbed her bike and pushed it to the front as well. Right where she was already supposed to be. In front of the United States of America’s army.

The massive robot stood in front of the soldiers, and it was already talking.

sider their stance. Force is not necessary here. You are not under attack. Only words were exchanged. Violence is not logical."

Betsy squinted, pulling her goggles down with one hand to block out the reflections from the cars’ windshields. There was a crowd. Presumably recruits. It was hard to make out features, but a few stood out. Literally. One was on top of a beast (was it a horse? Weren’t those gone?) and another, well it looked like a Freak. The big ones that traveled in packs. But it couldn’t be. Those things were relentless in killing people.

The automatron was continuing

"There are many people here. What happens if your men shoot someone else by accident? Loss of innocent life goes against Union law, does it not?"

It must be malfunctioning. How embarrassing for its owner. As if the police ever shot innocents. They were protectors. Still, she was surprised to hear that some of the soldiers were starting to hesitate over its words. And another bystander thought there might need to be a mediator. What had happened then? Why were the others so worried the soldiers would shoot? If they hadn’t already then it should be fine. Still, she hesitated to get nearer, standing beside the tire of the truck she’d been looking into.

One man stood stiffly, with what she thought was anger. Had he been the one to try to pick a fight with the soldiers? What an idiot. How could he possibly think to win against America’s best? Still, he spoke properly, addressing the commanding officer as sir. Perhaps it would be safe to come out?

 

[EdwardDewey98]

The CO only cared about one thing, and that was to put Cero in his place. Anything else these other wastelanders said or did, ultimately, did not matter to him. This was about sending a message, so when KAZ attempted to calm the situation, all he got from the CO was a side glance and nothing else and now a weapon aimed at it. "Bubbah’s” grip on the pistol tightened as the robot looked at him, but got distracted with Slade chastised him once again.

"Put that thing away before you shoot the only chance for shit not to hit the fan."

"B...but..." muttered the soldier, before noticing he was no longer holding his gun. Next to him, the Mistfolk survivalist that had introduced himself earlier was doing a gun trick with his pistol, and before other MP's could aim their guns at him he offered the gun back to Bubbah. The MP meekly took it back with concern laced on his face as he recovered his firearm, knowing that he was going to get chastised over it later.

“No problems here, Sir.”

It was clear that Cero hated every second of it, but his response was enough for CO who kept staring into the young man’s intense yellow eyes. "Listen here, I’m gonna give you a piece of advice... you are in the Union of the Potomac. This city? These lands? They all belong to the United States of America, and in the United States of America, you respect the armed forces: be it the army, the marines, or anything else. You respect them, and in turn, we leave you be, wastelander. Hell, we might even respect you back if you help our cause." he said, his stance slowly relaxing.

"Keep that in mind, because I know in other towns wastelanders get the bullet for disrespecting American law." he added, before turning his attention to the others. "As for the rest of you talking about us recruiting children, you seem to be unaware anyone in the Union of the Potomac can serve." He said, before showing a tattoo in his left arm depicting the insignia of 12th Junior Corps. "I joined when I was 10, still the best decision I've ever made." He then looked down to Fang and Bonnie. "If they want to help, let them help."

“I served in the 14th.” Priest then spoke up, his voice grabbing everyone’s attention as it rang out in the air. The CO turned his head towards and looked at Priest for a while before giving a slow, but respectful nod. “I can see the patch, and that of the 7th Tuskegee Rifleman.” The CO then said, a slight smile forming on his lips. “Fought in the Tejano Wars?” he then asked.

“I saw the fall of Houston.” Priest answered, still smiling despite the CO starting to turn visibly suspicious.

“…you fought for the Dixies, I’m guessing.”

Priest nodded as he shifted to show the patch of the Black Dixies 2nd Battalion. “Indeed I did. But after the Burning Churches, I left. Served a bit with the John Brown’s Chosen looking for retribution, before finding answers in the gospel that changed my life. Now, I serve God.” He then said, pulling out his Bible in view.

“I used to be in the army before settling on the MP. Fought the Black Dixies 1st Battalion in Macon.” The MP CO then spoke.

“Then you know what I mean when I say ‘Never again.’” Priest then spoke, his voice calm and rather comforting.

“Never again.” The CO replied before eyeing KAZ. “Why are you here, preacher? Is that chatty bag of bolts yours?”

Before the automaton could answer for itself, Priest quickly interjected: “The machine belongs to a member of my Flock, Miss Williams.” He spoke, motioning a hand towards Yanaye who stood next to a recently arrived wastelander woman who looked at the scene atop her bike. “I apologize for its intrusiveness, it simply attempted to do what it’s programmed for. De-escalation and calming in dangerous situations.”

Priest tapped on KAZ’s left arm, “As for why I’m here, well, we wish to help in this humanitarian mission. Fear not, we are all capable members, all with different skills that will help protect the caravan. I have medical training, Yanaye is a techie genius. Jebediah there’s an excellent mechanic. Jess is a great enforcer and protector… and Duke?” Priest then spoke, pointing at the Goliath who stood out like a sore thumb. “Well, I guess you can imagine what skills Duke has, outside of just good fashion.”

The CO nodded, before looking at Dewey: “Corporal, get some forms for the preacher and his congregation… and you, young lady,” the CO then spoke, pointing at Betsy, “are you here to help as well, or are you here to get into the city?”

• Interacting: Lucero ( BriiAngelic ) Betsy ( Lost Echo ) Cris Topher ( Azurian Dream )
• Nearby: Runt ( joshuadim ) Dustin ( Roda the Red ) Slade ( Breadman ) Aitan ( dikdik ) Fang and Artemis ( SavannahSmiles ) Bonnie and Boogey ( AriAriAbabwa ) Marisol ( BriiAngelic )

 

[Lost Echo]

Betsy’s eyes were wide behind her goggles. Hearing the commanding officer speak about the honor it was to be an American. With each inhale, she found herself standing taller. It was like a buzzing energy was inside of her. The potential she had to serve her country was eager to get out. And this man had not only served, but he had also led. She could tell it now. His words were like the speakers of old, inspiring his troops. He lit a fire in her, making her shake with excitement.

"—anyone in the Union of the Potomac can serve."

He was talking to her. Not just those two who were evidently children, not just short compared to the…(was it a Freak? Could the kids tame them? No wonder they wanted to join. That’d be a great asset.) He’d been serving since he was 10! Betsy was so far behind, but she would work hard to catch up.

“I served in the 14th.”

A new man, his skin the color of bark, spoke the simple sentence and grabbed the crowd’s attention. Here was another leader. Though his tone was different. Softer? Something about it made her feel safe. It was strange. She may not have been out of her bunker for long, but she’d learned the hard lessons of trusting someone. Then she realized he’d been in the military. Perhaps that was why.

The two leaders exchanged stories, speaking of wars she’d never heard of She was confused. Had they been on different sides? Was this dark man with his soothing voice evil? He claimed to fight for the Dixies, but she knew that term. They were those of the Confederate States of America, who had to fight to keep their states' rights. But the commanding officer did not seem pleased. Still, this new man had left after the atrocity of burning churches. She may not have seen one, but she knew Christianity was the foundation of America. And he’d left the military to serve a higher power. He mustn’t be evil. He was also the malfunctioning automatron’s master. He introduced his ‘flock’ (why did he call them that?) each more impressive than the last.

But all of a sudden, he was pointing at her. Standing up as straight as she could, she spoke with a stern voice, “Yes sir,” she attempted a salute, hitting her goggles instead with a grimace, before lowering her arm. “I want to help America.” She kept staring at his face through her goggles, trying not to twitch at the sudden attention. She’d learned attention could be bad since leaving the bunker. But this was a police officer. He’d never hurt her.

 

[Roda the Red]

The fires of conflict waned, an old man with an air of wisdom stepped into the fray, not with weapon, but with words of peace. His persuasion appeared to have been successful, as the MPs had finally lowered their guns. Dustin smiled, it was fun to see such an intense moment! The half-goliath wasn't a stranger to enjoying a little bit of extreme violence, but it's not like he ever actively seeked it, either. A shootout right here would've felt more like a waste than anything else, and for that he was glad nothing much came out of it.

He did not expect a robot to start talking about peace out of nowhere, that certainly was a first for him! But he was also quite surprised by the fogdude's dexterous hands, for a second he though the man was about to start doing some shooting of his own! But lastly, he was also taken aback with just how fucking bold that man was, and so, he approached him as well as the girl who accompanied him. Dustin placed a hand on the man's shoulder, greeting him with a big, sincere grin.

"Can't tell if you have a deathwish or just a massive pair of balls, either way I thought that was pretty cool, name's Dustin, nice to meetcha".

BriiAngelic

Spoiler: Notes:

-Dustin is currently wearing a somewhat tattered white cloak to protect him from the sunlight
-His hood is down

 

[Breadman]

"Jesus, you're the worst MP I have ever seen and I've been to Florida." Slade muttered in mock disbelief and disgust as he saw Bubbah being made a fool by the Mistfolk. He looked forwards as he couldn't bare looking at the guard for another second and quickly shook it off as the CO started talking about how great it was serving in the child soldier brigades. He raised a finger and was about to say something when the Priest chimed in. The ghoul waited for both of them to finish chatting before he would say anything else. Not out of politeness, but it was a good opportunity to get to know who exactly he would be working with. These types always join caravans.

Yes sir, I want to help America.

"Got to hand it to you, chief. You point at a random person in the crowd and pull out a regular G.I. Jane."

 

[Lost Echo]

"...pull out a regular G.I. Jane."

Betsy puffed up with pride, completely missing any sarcasm. She’d never heard of the phrase before, but she knew what GIs were, “My name is Betsy Ross, not Jane.” She turned, then looked up and up until she was more or less staring at what had to be the large man’s head. He was just a dark body backlit by way too much sun in her opinion. He must be on a horse. She wanted to get near to actually touch the beast, but she knew she had work to do first. She needed to impress the commanding officer. Show she could focus.

Another soldier handed her a piece of paper and pen, which she took and returned to a car’s hood, waving at the stopped driver before using it as a desk. Carefully she filled out each section, claiming Kansas as her birthplace. When it came to loyalty, she smiled and wrote, Completely. Then she turned to return the paper. Maybe she could look at the man’s horse now?

 

[EdwardDewey98]

“Yes sir, I want to help America.”

"Got to hand it to you, chief. You point at a random person in the crowd and pull out a regular G.I. Jane."

“My name is Betsy Ross, not Jane.”

The MP CO grinned widely as Betsy introduced herself not only as a patriot, but as someone proud of her name and identity. As she filled out her form, the veteran turn his head to Slade: “I wish we had more folks like this young lady. Willing, ready and able to serve America!” he said, crossing his arms as he looked over at Betsy again as she finished. He placed the paper atop the others he had received and quickly read it, his grin growing wider as he learned more of this proud and patriotic woman.

“If we had a few thousand patriots like this girl here, the nation would still be united!” he said aloud before looking over at “Bubbah”. He had noticed when Cris Topher took his gun away for a few seconds, and was already thinking of a few punishments. “Were you not the Guvner’s second cousin, I’d have you shipped into this mission and ask Ms. Ross here to take your place, Bubbah.”

"Bubbah" simply looked at Betsy nervously, before saluting his commanding officer. “S-sorry sir, I’ll do my best from now on, sir!”

The CO simply shook his head in annoyance and sighed while another soldier handed over the forms filled out by Priest and the members of his Flock.

The members of the flock all gathered near the other volunteers, allowing them to get better looks at Priest, Yanaye, Jebediah, Jessica, Duke and KAZ. While the man leading them looked like a wandering preacher, Jeb and Jessica looked like the average Wastelander. Yanaye’s clothes were too clean, and based on her accessories full of slang and old internet references, it was clear that she is from the Republic of Congaree. Duke stood out, not just because of his titanic size but because of his custom tailored suit. While dirty, it was in excellent condition otherwise without tears or stray strands poking out.

“We have a diverse group of volunteers here…” Yanaye said as she gave the others a passing glance.

“Reminds me a bit of Baltimore. Heh… that place was fun!” Jess replied as she looked at her paper form. Yan noticed Jeb was putting x’s on his form, much to the techie’s frustration. “Jeez Jeb, I told you that if you need help writing something, you can ask me to help!”

Jeb, like the majority of the rural Dixie population, was illiterate. And the old man never bothered in learning how to write, but Yanaye was schooled and attended college in the Congaree. With its status as being some of the best in the post-war America, Yanaye was in the position to help: “Come on, give it to me.” She said, offering her hand. But Jeb shook his head. “Don’t waste the ink, girly… I don’t care about Union bureaucracy.” He said as he waved at a nearby soldier to give his form.

With all the forms on hand, the CO used his radio to contact another officer of higher rank to confirm that they had gathered an acceptable number of volunteers. Cris Topher and Artemis, both having higher awareness than regular folk from their mutations, heard the sounds of marching boots and chains approaching the gates of the city. When they looked over to the metal that had been opened by the MPs that wanted to gun down Lucero, they saw four men in actual military uniforms. These were not MPs, but members of the Commonwealth Army itself. Behind them were fourteen men and women with chains on their arms and legs: their Prisoners.

​

In front of the marching row was a large Goliath in his own military uniform, whose serious expression changes to one of surprise as he gazes on the gathered volunteers. “God motherfucking damn, Corporal. Did I walk into a tabletop session?” he asked, his voice deep and loud and, while Green now, he spoke in Ebonics.

“Looks like it, sir.” The Corporal replied, standing behind the Gunnery Sarge.

The Goliath looked over at Cris Topher and Artemis before approaching them. “Here’s our Elves. Look at the white haired princess over here, god damn girl. You here to look pretty or serve America?” he said as he looked at the misborn, before turning his attention to Cris. “…and don’t make me start on you dopey looking motherfucker… the fuck is that shawl made from? The hairy back of a freak?” he asked as he looked at Cris’ mutated panther fur shawl.

The Gunnery Sarge then turned to look at Boogey, Fang and Bonney. Having served in the army all his life, the Sarge didn’t bat an eye towards the fact that the two munchkins were kids. In fact, he was the harshest on them, hoping that when they grow up they would make for elite soldiers. “So here we have the Halflings and a Troll.” He said as he looked down at the trio. Even the behemoth of a mutant like Boogey looked small next to the deadly Goliath.

Next was Slade, who had met enough Goliaths to know that they were hard to kill and fairly easy to befriend. However, it didn’t seem like he was here to look for new friends: “And the undead ranger out here, on a boney steed.” The Sarge stated as he stared into Slade’s glowing eyes, “I know your kind, so I’m assuming this whole John Wayne look came from before the war, right? Either way, you look corny as fuck dude.” He didn’t allow Slade to fire back, as the Goliath lumbered off to look at the others.

“And no party’s complete without its generic humies!” He said as he glanced over to the regulars of the group. “So, do you have any particularset of skills white boy? Besides smoking and wearing a flashy coat?” he asked Aitan rhetorically. He glanced over Betsy, but did not comment on her, not because he did not find her interesting, but because he noticed Priest and his following. “God motherfucking damn… Priest?” said the Sarge as he walked over to the roaming preacher. “Man, you really must be blessed by God because motherfuckers like you get eaten out there.” He commented, which brought out a laugh from Priest.

“You are doing people like me a disservice, Jeremy.” Priest replied, bringing out murmurs of surprise from the other MPs and soldiers. They were all surprised that the two knew each other, and many thought to themselves where they could have met before.

“I’ll talk to you in a moment… ‘cause I see the god damn half-Orc over there.” The Gunnery Sarge then said as he stomped over to Dustin, who himself was in front of Lucero and Marisol. Dustin knew exactly why this Goliath shouted and talked down, as he had met many like him when growing up in Fort Albany. Goliath communities, which were always created around former Marine bases, Drill Instructors had the important task of training everyone, no matter their age, race or species.

That is a tradition that carried on from before the war, and continued by them after because even Goliaths can grow sloppy with the passing of time. DI’s, while meant to be teachers, are also meant to be the meanest motherfucker in the entire community -- Dustin knew he was, or is, a Drill Instructor from a nearby Goliath settlement, and he knew that he was about to be shouted at.

“DAMN, YOU LOOK CONFUSED BOY.” He shouted, saliva spattering onto Dustin’s hood. “READY TO JOIN THE UNION ARMY?” the Sarge pointed at him, “YOU HAVEN’T SALUTED ME YET, SO I’M ASSUMING THEY TEACH NO RESPECT WHERE YOU COME FROM MAGGOT. BUT YOU GONNA RESPECT YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER, YOU HEAR ME BOY?” The demand came for a salute; such traditions were not alien to the half-Goliath, who had to salute higher ranking members of the community back home.

Callum, who had regained consciousness by now, and Morgan stood in front of the row of prisoners. They witnessed the Sarge talk down to all these people, and neither understood why they were mixing conscripted prisoners with volunteers; but one thing was clear, they needed a lot of numbers. And the Union seemed desperate enough to recruit people who look like civilians or wastelanders. Callum, due to his beliefs, noticed Priest and the way he held a Bible close to his heart. Who was this man, and the people near him? Had he found an ally in the future? Or his greatest challenge yet?

• Interacting: Cris Topher ( Azurian Dream ) Artemis & Fang ( SavannahSmiles ) Bonney & Boogey ( AriAriAbabwa ) Slade ( Breadman ) Dustin ( Roda the Red ) Aitan ( dikdik )
• Nearby: Morgan ( Infab ) Callum ( Sistros ) Runt & KAZ ( joshuadim ) Lucero & Marison ( BriiAngelic ) Betsy ( Lost Echo )

 

[Infab]

Morgan soon found herself a bit bored, as the commotion at the front gate settled down. Well shit, so much for a show. She frowned, glancing to the others. But then, she started being lead along by the Goliath and other soldiers. All marching in rhythm towards the front gate where the others were standing.

Looks like she had been moved up the list for this little party. Not quite VIP, but close enough.

She looked at those standing before her, a wide grin slowly forming on her face as she took in their varying appearances. A few mutants, some mistfolk, a freak, a half-goliath, some kids, a priest of some sort and his merry band, and a pair of regular ol' humans.

Oh, and a raider.

As Morgan's eye fell on Runt, she cocked her head to the side a bit. He wasn't the LA type. Probably Las Vegas. Not quite as rowdy as LA, but they still weren't the kinda people to fuck with.

And soon enough, the higher ranking Goliath began his little inspection of what they'd be working with. She held in a chuckle, as the large green man went down the list. It was similar to how things were back home, though more formal and militarized. and far less vulgar. She missed the inspections her gang's leader would do to newbies they recruited from the wastes. Give 'em absolute hell, to see just how much the fuckers could take. Most chickened out. Some passed. And a select one or two came through with flying colors.

She wondered if she and the man in white next to her would go through the same verbal bullshit. If they did, she wouldn't care. She'd been called enough to last a lifetime. At the moment, however, the goliath had stopped at the half-goliath with long hair. And now had shifted into a drill sergeant voice.

You might want to watch it, big guy. He might actually join. Next thing you know, you walk into the bathroom to find him ready to paint the walls with your brains.

"I love the whole Full Metal Jacket thing we have goin' here, Gunny. Good stuff." she said aloud, her grin shifting to a smirk. A few looks were earned from the other prisoners. But she spoke again, instead of keeping her mouth shut. "Might not want to scare your new recruits off, though. Especially the kids. Potentially future career soldiers, and all the crap that comes with that."

She looked to the two kids with the freak. "Just wait! They'll hand you a gun, and you'll be right to blowing people's heads off in no time." she said, grinning again, "Trust me. The same happened to me. Though, the spurting blood gets a little old after the first half-dozen times."

 

[joshuadim]

R U N T​

As the tensions subsided in the moment, Runt let out a barely audible sigh of relief as he stepped back to where he originally had stood on first arrival. Now that the danger subsided, Runt was able to observe everyone else. A fuckin' Preacher and his 'Flock' had strolled up, which made Runt roll his eyes from under his goggles. The overt religious shit never stuck with him. Or rather, the Bible-thumping verse-spouting god-fearing shtick of those Eastern folk. He still had his own god that, he hoped one day, he would prove worthy to stand in front of. The only thing that stood out was the tall robot that *tried* to be diplomatic, which raised his curiosity. But outside of that, he saw nothing more than a tall rustbucket probably carrying out orders.

Then came the arrival of prisoners who, not to Runt's surprise, were being used as additional bodies on this mission. Rather typical they'd send people considered 'unruly' to fight and die against their will. All of them seemed like the types too, given their mercenary appearances. However, Runt's gaze fell on Morgan and met her own as the two had a wordless exchange. He could tell she was a Raider, through and through, though not from Vegas. But, rather, from LA... those types, the few he had ever encountered, weren't his cup of tea. But still, at least there's *some* familiarity among complete strangers here. Though, he though he'd have a chance to speak with her later in some more privacy. There was also that weird man near her as well, but he didn't give a single fuck about him.

Instead, he had choice words for the dumbfuck that nearly got them all gunned down indiscriminately. He approached Lucero, and by extension Marisol, and stared at the young man for a moment before scoffing: "Are you fucking stupid?" Runt asked, out of genuine curiosity. "You must be for almost getting us all shot."

Interacting: Lucem and Marisol ( BriiAngelic )
Mentioned: Morgan ( Infab )

---

K A Z​

KAZ looked over to Priest as he gave a quick explanation to the MP Commander about it, which caused the automaton's internal logic to come up with a conclusion: he was lying. But why? For what purpose did it serve to lie about KAZ and say it was in it's programming? Its 'eyes' shifted between Priest and the MP a few times, though said nothing as it intended to play along for now. It would need to inquire later about this course of action in particular. Now didn't seem like the best of times, as it calculated the possibility of being overheard and cross-referenced over social norms of humans.

Instead, KAZ looked over towards the prisoners that had been ferried here by the Gunnery Sarge and observed for a moment in silence. "Query: Penal battalions have a low efficacy rate in combat. Why send them here? Their mere presence increases the failure chance of this outing to 82.7 percent." it asked, having reduced its volume levels manually, to the other members of the Flock.

Interacting: Priest, Yanaye, Jeb, Jess ( EdwardDewey98 )

 

[Breadman]

"I'm sure the rest are very motivated by the speech, personally I see who Bubbah is trying to imitate." Slade said, but the Sarge was already giving it out to the rest. Damn and here he was with no one to appreciate his comeback. Anything he had would have to be saved for later. Odd that he wasn't given any shit over not saluting anybody, but if he was known to the MPs, then probably the higher ups knew not to bother. Too bad, it sounds like he was getting predictable.

Man, you really must be blessed by God because motherfuckers like you get eaten out there.

You are doing people like me a disservice, Jeremy.

So those two know each other from before. Probably why the priest and his flock will be joining the job then. The raiders being added was another odd choice. Just what type of operation were they running here?

Might not want to scare your new recruits off, though. Especially the kids. Potentially future career soldiers, and all the crap that comes with that. Just wait! They'll hand you a gun, and you'll be right to blowing people's heads off in no time. Trust me. The same happened to me. Though, the spurting blood gets a little old after the first half-dozen times.

"That's right kiddos, you splatter enough brain matter on yourselves and absolutely damage your perception of right and wrong and you too can end up like your Auntie Batshit over there." The ghoul pointed to Morgan "Wrapped in chains and used as a bullet sponge."

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Boogey n' Bonnie #91275C​

Boogey stepped in front of the kids the moment Sarge set his gaze on them. He remained silent against his provocations, unblinking eyes trained up on the Goliath throughout. He could take off his ankles, given if he knew someone like this was coming. Then they could at least meet eye-to-eye; a meeting without one's height-inflated ego... His younger self might have done that, but not now.

Bonnie had just clambered out of the sled when the prisoner escort arrived. Like before, she scurried behind her guardian, pale-faced against the Sarge. She'd never seen anyone taller than Boogey... would they really be okay? Was this job a set-up of sorts? Tales prior about false job requests created by bandits had returned to memory. Bonnie bit her lips, glancing around at everyone else.

Was coming here a mistake? She was the one who suggested it. Boogey, Fang... if they... met the same fate as her parents because of this... The thought of it quickened Bonnie's breath until it was audible. Coming here was a mistake, and the Goliath was going to kill them. Then take her and Fang as slaves with the rest of those escorted souls they came with.

Out of what very little she remembered of her parents, she remembered how they taught her to use a gun—and when to use it: "When you ever feel you are in danger..."

Her face scrunched up, and she found herself leaning on Fang's side. "I don't wanna die..." Click. A cocked revolver was now in Bonnie's hands, dragged from the holster at her hip.

Bonnie's sniffling sent a twitch throughout Boogey's body. The Freak became still again—deathly so. His eyes traversed each soldier...

EdwardDewey98 SavannahSmiles

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Marisol Cabrera || Defiant Youngest
• Lucero Cabrera || Overbearing Eldest

• 
  
  
  
  Interacting With:
  Th Flock ( EdwardDewey98 ) Kaz ( joshuadim )
  

  ~ The Meetup~
  
  Dinner in Elusia || Marisol's CS File
  
  She felt like she couldn’t breathe again until the man stepped back. Just what was Cero doing? Even she knew they would be taken for wastelanders, and they weren’t exactly well-liked by these folk. She looked straight into his eyes and saw them glean with the cold calculative gaze she’d been growing ever more used to.
  
  She could only take so much of it in one day.
  
  It was getting worse and worse to tolerate her brother’s whims the further they strayed from the cities. Perhaps if the chip were to fall differently then she’d be capable of doing more than shaking in the shadow of the potential consequences of her brother’s actions.
  
  Her hands wanted to twitch to her whip just to grasp at its hilt to center herself once more. Yet even though she may not fear the wastelands or falter at Lucero’s boldness she still had a rational bone in her body. Right now that rational bone was screaming for relief, to fall back and hide from the massive amounts of guns that would take just one irritated soldier to have trained on all of them.
  
  So she took the opportunity provided as the half goliath approached her brother with his wide grin to cut loose and leave. She pivoted on her heel and let the violent swish of her skirt be all the chagrin left in her wake from her inability to speak up for them both.
  
  Besides, she was always lumped in with her brother whenever the two stood side by side, suffering the concequences with fury from having no say. There’d be no point when her voice would just be drowned out by his. Instead she aimed to make her own voice heard, starting with the one who did likely the most to help her dear old bro not be a splatter on the ground.
  
  “Hey Metal Man. I appreciate the diplomacy, even if the fool won’t say I’m sure my brother does as well.”
  
  She threw some cheer in her voice keeping it loud and boisterous. She wanted to nail this image right. Just like mama, a force to be recogned with. She was a bull not a sheep… or something like that. She turned to the woman Priest pointed out as owning the robot ready to give her thanks to her as well before a loud yelling brought her attention back. She spoke lowly as she drew closer to the flock.
  
  “If this is a humanitarian mission why do they need prisoners…wouldn’t that just make things worse?”
  
  
• 
  
  ~ The Meetup~
  
  Regrets || Lucero's CS File
  
  If he had to say whether the need to heel to these fuckers or being mistaken for a wastelander bothered him more. Well no, he’d still find the war dogs trading life stories more annoying. Made him want to tell them to drop their fancy gear and square up to see if they’d still be so preoccupied.
  
  No, that was a bad path to go winding down.
  
  He caught Mari glaring and gave her a cocky smile as she swished her way away. Welp he’d let her cool her head then. He felt the clap on his shoulder from the side where he kept his machete and had to bite down the instinct to pivot and yank it out. He snapped his head in the direction of the clap and felt his tension leave as he saw the wide grin on the other’s face.
  
  "Can't tell if you have a deathwish or just a massive pair of balls, either way, I thought that was pretty cool, name's Dustin, nice to meetcha".
  
  He loosened up his posture turning to face the other while shoving both hands into his jean pockets with a matching grin. Now, this he could vibe with, not a stick in the mud, and at least from the looks of it, not an issue to watch.
  
  “Dustin huh? Lucero Cabrera of the United cities of Mexico. Or Cero, whatever’s easier I guess. Ain’t a deathwish if yo-”
  
  “God motherfucking damn, Corporal. Did I walk into a tabletop session?”
  
  He let out a sigh as the air filled with shouts once more. You’d think they would get tired of getting off to the sound of their own voice but alas they were not that lucky. Even worse he saw lines of prisoners. The fuck type of mission did they want to send them on?
  
  “Lovely, we got a manic with an ego complex. Don’t look now but I think we’re about to meet a real piece of work.”
  
  Man did he ever hate to be right he wanted to drop the dude coming up to them and unrestrainedly shouting at his new pal here but he knew any intervention would only make it worse.
  
  "Are you fucking stupid? You must be for almost getting us all shot."
  
  Yup there we go. He’d expected some to take exception with the way he went about things but he figured they’d at least wait til their main worry left them alone, not when one was shouting them down. He supposed this one must have never heard of anticipating a threat, worse yet that they didn’t even consider that approaching another unidentified individual might be one. He strolled up close to Runt speaking at a volume only he would hear.
  
  “Are you? What you think that if I hadn’t you’d be all fine and dandy? Threat's still there, it ain't leaving. That’s what we’re signing up for, guns at our backs and the uncertainty of if they’re aimed at us or enemies. Congratulations, this specifically should damn well prove it. Classists, don’t need a damn reason as ya see. So why don’t you go lick their boots and pray they like you enough to not get your own corporal fucker up your ass.”
  
  

  
  
  Interacting With:
  Dustin ( Roda the Red ) Kaz ( joshuadim )
  

 

[Roda the Red]

Dustin was pleased to see that Cero returned the greeting with a similar degree of friendliness, as he half expected the man to say something along the lines of 'Go eat a dick and die in pit'. Not that a response like that would've been that bad, having some sticks in the mud around made things just as fun sometimes. The Half-Goliath wonder for a fraction of a second what had caused Cero to stop talking, but his question was immediately answered as a shadow was cast upon the two of them, as well his eardrums now ringing from the Goliath's screaming.

Dustin gave the hulking military figure a puzzled look for a moment, before the gears in his had, at last, started to turn. He straightened his back, saluting at Sarge as his expression turned into an uncharacteristically serious one, his smile had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"SIR, YES SIR! DUSTIN RENFIELD FROM FORT ALBANY, NEVER JOINED BUT I TRAINED UNDER THE SECOND BATALLION, FOX COMPANY SIR! SORRY FOR THE INSURBORDINATION, I'M JUST RUSTY WITH THE WHOLE MILITARY ATTITUDE, SIR!"

He wanted to crack a smile so badly, most would've found the Goliath's screaming incredibly rude, uncalled for or even unbearable. But to Dustin, this was like a nice trip down memory lane, a true blast of nostalgia if you will. He wasn't the best at keeping track with time, how much had it been since he was back at the fort? five, six years? No matter, it was nice to get a reminder of home.

"I'M READY TO JOIN THE ARMY AND KILL WHATEVER ASSHAT GETS IN THE WAY OF OUR MISSION FOR THE GOOD OF THIS GREAT COUNTRY, SIR!"

He totally aced that.

 

[Lost Echo]

TW: Assumption of people as enslaved

~​

The young girl grinned at the MP CO just as wide in response. She puffed up, her head high and her chest out, proud of being recognized. She was already standing out. If she kept this up, she could move up the ranks and become a leader. Just like Roosevelt. She could do this.

She wasn’t sure why being someone’s cousin mattered, but Betsy put that out of her mind and focused instead on which option would help America more. “I think it’s better for me to go on this caravan.” At least she thought that’s what they were doing. “But maybe afterward I can join! Sir.” She announced, hoping to do both. It wasn’t that she wanted to take the other’s job, but if she was better, then America needed the best.

She knew not to take too much of the leader’s time, him having to keep everyone together before taking them to…their meeting point, she supposed. Regardless, he was busy, so she stepped back to her bike, grabbing the handle bars to lean it against her own frame instead of the RV. Her gaze flicked over to the horse, and she was about to sneak over to it, when another group arrived. They were chained like prisoners,but what really drew her attention was the Freak leading them. It was bigger than any she’d ever seen. Even bigger than the Freak the children tamed. It was green, but wearing clothes. Camouflage like the military and even a hat on its head.

She barely had time to wonder on its origins when it spoke! Stepping back, with wide eyes she listened to his strange cadence, not understanding what a tabletop session even was. But then he went through the recruits, calling them nonsense names, but his insults came out clearly. Her jaw dropped, wondering why he was being so mean. His gaze seemed to reach her and she froze, before setting her jaw. If he was going to be mean, she was going to call him out! Taking a deep breath, she prepared to respond when he skipped over her.

Straight to the dark man Priest, who seemed to know him? He didn’t insult him, merely moving over to the another man, who seemed strangely colored through her goggles. Something about the man set it off as it exploded, screaming like a malfunctioning automatron. She almost expected his head to spin as it yelled. It was terrifying though. Something that big, and not programed toward peace as the real automatron seemed to be, could kill them all. She shifted, grabbing her gun, but looked over to the MP commanding officer. Why wasn’t he or someone else stopping this? Hadn’t they tamed the Freak? It was out of control!

One of the prisoners, a woman with confusing hair, (metaphorically) stepped in for the commander, pulling his attention from the poor man to herself, pointing out the obvious. Betsy wished she was that brave. Then she spoke of the power boost having a gun gives you and the young wouman couldn’t help but agree. She might not have had the chance to blow off too many bad guys’ heads, but it hadn’t taken her long before she’d needed to. And the blood does stop being a surprise after the first few. She shuddered and wiped at her face, as if the blood was still there.

But then the Freak’s target yelled back. It was hard to parse the words from the tone, but she thought he was agreeing? Or something. Now that was brave. And he was going to join them. Exactly what they needed. If he could stand up against the green Freak, then nothing should scare him.

As the the automatron spoke of the failure rate of penal battalions, Betsy couldn’t help but wonder about the prisoners again. Why were they here? Did the Freak require lives to keep it under control? Her gaze went over the chained people. They looked too calm for that outcome to hav e happened yet. They were not dazed like the slaves she’d seen before. No, the woman had spoken her mind, seeming to slow the Freak. It couldn’t be to join? Why would they need to bring them? Or were they the cargo? Betsy’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to serve her country. If this was the way to do it, then fine. It wasn’t like the military was treating these slaves badly… it was okay… Right?

Shaking her thoughts off, she took her bike, guiding it over toward the horse, hoping to not attract attention. She was quiet. Her gears and chains were well oiled and silent. And it wasn’t that far. Surely the introduction of the Freak and the slaves was enough to keep people from caring about her movement. When she neared the creature, the horse!, she leaned her bike against another convient car. Stepping away, she stood before the animal. It was huge. It’s back came up to her chin. It looked skeletal to her, but maybe she could touch. She reached out and tried.

Direct Interaction: Breadman (Bowie)

 

[joshuadim]

R U N T​

Runt stared at Lucero as he gave his reply, allowing the air between the two of them to still awkwardly before scoffing audibly. "Should've just said 'yes' and saved your breath." the raider replied with annoyance, realizing that it was worthless to speak to such an arrogant idiot. The man was a walking target, and standing near him just made Runt all the more uncomfortable as he didn't want to eat lead at any given moment. How he survived this long in this world was beyond him as he simply walked past Lucero without so much as a second thought, and instead focused on Morgan.

She was going out and about to try to scare the kids, much to his annoyance as he scowled under his bandana and goggles. On approach from her side, he gave her a slap to the back of the head: "Do you really have to spook *kids* like that?" he asked angrily, "They've been through enough already."

Interacting: Lucero ( BriiAngelic ), Morgan ( Infab )

---

K A Z​

Before the automaton could receive an answer to its original query, it was then approached by Marisol who offered her thanks for the diplomatic attempt at resolving the situation her brother had started. KAZ looked at Marisol for a moment before shifting its gaze towards Priest for a moment before moving back to Marisol: "Simply doing my *job* as requested by my, er... Master." KAZ then spoke, working the words to create a lie as best as it could to play into Priest's original depiction. To keep up the facade, it would play along with the idea that it was, in fact, subservient. However, a logic routine buzzed in KAZ's memory that caused a presence of... discomfort to arise in its subroutines.

Was this a... feeling? Or a simulation of what one is supposed to *feel* in this situation? More data to digest for later as KAZ then turned to Marisol's followup question. "Working theory: readily available and coerced labor for use by the state to enforce its own actions." it spoke, looking towards the prisoners; one of whom was now approached by another of the volunteers who confronted her on her behaviour towards the small ones.

"It won't work."

Interacting: Marisol ( BriiAngelic )
Nearby: The Flock ( EdwardDewey98 )

 

[Infab]

"That's right kiddos, you splatter enough brain matter on yourselves and absolutely damage your perception of right and wrong and you too can end up like your Auntie Batshit over there." The ghoul pointed to Morgan "Wrapped in chains and used as a bullet sponge."

Morgan chuckled, before the grin faded from her face and was replaced by an expression as if she were in thought. She scratched her head, holding both of her chained hands up so that she could do so. "...Well, I've honestly never been on this end of things."

She then glanced back to Slade, as she lowered her arms. "...And what makes you think we're gonna be bullet sponges? I'm more useful unbound, and with a nice hunk of wood and steel in my hands. Preferably loaded with bullets, but a blade works nice too." she said, eventually glancing towards the Goliath and the MPs. "I'm trustworthy. I mean, I'm a fuckin' Raider, sure. But still."

She then looked to the other raider that had arrived. The Vegas raider. He stepped over next to her, forcing her to cut him a mixed look of confusion and suspicion.

And then his palm struck the back of her head. A simple slap, which forced her head to jerk forward in recoil.

Her mouth hung open slightly, another smile appearing on her face as she stared down at the ground in disbelief. This motherfucker just hit her.

Fuck, she wanted to hit him back. Her body was craving it. One shot, straight across his fucking jaw. Hell, why stop there? Use the chains she wore. Choke this punk bitch out.

She slowly grinned, turning her head so she could face him. Her jaw clenched, teeth pressed together. Good fucking god, she wanted to go apeshit on him.

But then he spoke to her, about the kids. And he sounded angry.

"Do you really have to spook *kids* like that?" he asked angrily, "They've been through enough already."

Cute, he is angry.

"That was the point, Vegas." she said, so that only Runt could hear. "You really think kids need to tag along with us? You and I both know what's out there. Nothing left but chaos, death, and ruin."

She glanced to the kids briefly, before looking back to Runt. "You and I thrive in that. We're not like the others, save for that one girl over there with the priest. I smelled raider on her from a mile off."

 

[joshuadim]

R U N T​

"That was the point, Vegas." she said, so that only Runt could hear. "You really think kids need to tag along with us? You and I both know what's out there. Nothing left but chaos, death, and ruin."

"Better than them being alone. Or in the hands of some worse people." Runt shot back to Morgan, keeping his voice low as well so that the conversation was between the two of them. "You really want them to stick around with the Feds? Or that *thing*?"

She glanced to the kids briefly, before looking back to Runt. "You and I thrive in that. We're not like the others, save for that one girl over there with the priest. I smelled raider on her from a mile off."

Runt chuckled as he looked away, though it was not from amusement; rather, it was spite driven as he let out a 'tsk'. "Really? Thrive off chaos and death? Then why are *you* so far from your pack? Piss off your overboss? Couldn't pull the trigger when it mattered?" Runt taunted, trying to poke a hole into her bullshit. "Couldn't *stand* the shit any longer?"

 

[dikdik]

Still scraping his slimed foot across the crass ground, Aitan kept the half-sucked cigarette dangling out of his mouth, leaving a dry spot on his bottom lip as it tapped on his top front teeth. His arms flailed just a bit as a lost his balance for a moment, still watching a child bounce back and forth between a tent and the crowd. The ‘bot seemed to calm the tension just enough for the dumbass to slurp his words back up. Didn’t plan on fuckin’ dying today, anyways. Maybe not the ‘bot, though. Maybe it was the ever so slight bootlicking from Dumbass. Tan had to admit, Dumbass successfully, almost admirably, tested and stayed within a very thin line between pissing off lawmen, and being obliterated.

Whatever it was, it was unentertaining. More unentertaining was the sheer amount of frothing at the mouth this group of morons started spewing about the Staties and some of it was from the Staties about the Staties. Fuck the Staties.

Feeling the heat in his cigarette get too daringly close to his lips, Aitan dropped the unfiltered butt out of his teeth and watched it ffllt out in the disgusting, damp smear that had become the remainder of the sludge on his boot.

He liked that butt. Provided an appropriate distraction from the dumb shit going on around him.

The frothing continued for an amount of time a little more uncomfortable than Aitan would’ve liked. He glanced about once any sign of potential violence had waned and found some crates full of various fruits and vegetables being carefully overseen by an MP. He stepped over to them, reaching into his pockets and patting around until he found his lighter and little wrap of butts. Wrong pocket so he switched the little ball of joy into the correct one- back left. No! That was the cash pocket. Right thigh. Right thigh for now. Fuckin’ pockets. Need six of ‘em.

A stiff glance at the MP guarding the fruit crates and the light of another cigarette later, he was puffing along again. Aitan found himself plopping onto the crates, muttered just audibly that he “wouldn’t be stealing the fruit, ya fuckin’ cu-” to the MP side-eyeing him, but interrupting himself with a slew of near-silent expletives at the officer’s observations about his jacket.

He liked that jacket. It was mostly waterproof. Kept his various weapons hidden behind its flaps.

“I’m impressively deft with a knife, gun, shoe, spoon, whatever.” Tan snapped with his cigarette locked between the tips of his index finger and thumb. He knew his worth to this troop of ingrates. He didn’t need to defend himself. Right back to his mouth, that ciga-butt when. He’d probably need to stop chain smoking them. If he was going to have enough for this entire trip.

Before he knew it, they were having some fucking Giant drag in prisoners. Cannon fodder? MPs pretending? No, too grimy. The comment reeling from the fuckin’ robot is what really sent him flying over the edge. Aitan let out an audible cackle and gave his knee a little slap, successfully ashing his cigarette. An added bonus. He knew this’d be dangerous, but he assumed he would be at least a tiny bit safe and secure. He should’ve known better.

Sooner than not, the distinctive sssclicking into place of the hammer of a gun snapped Aitan onto his feet and visually seeking at least one exit from the area. Turns out, the sound came from one of those godforsaken children. How in hell had he not noticed her holster until she whipped that piece out, aiming at the sky? He was getting uncomfortably comfortable with this chaos. He’d need to step it up a notch if he was going to avoid being in the middle of some carnage-

Carnage that never came for the little kid. Hopefully she’d keep that thing pointed away from the lawmen and military rats around. They’d be pissed if she slung it around. More pissed than Aitan was at the aggressive, rumbling screams bellowing straight from the gut of the Giant dragging the prisoners around. Aitan simply watched in disbelief that he was even involved in such an odd sight. Maybe his presence would dissuade them from caring about the flames bellowing straight from the gut of the town behind them. Either way, no going back now. He did sign that paperwork.

Damn.

 

[Breadman]

"Now kids, this is your next lesson." Slade once again spoke to the little ones, as Morgan and Runt argued "When you get multiple raiders in a group one of three things will happen." He held up his fingers for the count "One! They will try to have sex with each other. If you do not know what that means, by some miracle, then you are to not ask the raiders, goliaths and especially the freaks what that means. Old priest over there would tell you more. Two! Failing the first, the alpha of the getting wrecked crew must be chosen and they will do so through conflict. Whether its Buzzcut or Auntie Batshit, I can't say, as he is having a hard time with a woman who's tied up. And finally THREE! They will try to kill each other. Much as I love to watch, I don't have snacks, booze or betting money so it would be a waste. Instead we have to keep them in check." He glanced over to the two raiders and back to the kids while holding what appears to be a peace sign to the kids "We are at two." His eyes finally shifted a little bit lower to spot the girl holding a revolver. It looked cocked and ready. "Now how did I miss that?" The ghoul raised an eyebrow "You know how to use that?" He next eyed the brute that was with them. He was still. Almost like a statue. "Right, he's one of those." He knew when to push buttons and when to leave well enough alone. That one was well within leave the fuck alone territory.

His attention was drawn to the girl from before. The G.I.Jane. She had moved herself closer as he was talking and was now standing in front of the horse. He slightly tilted his head to the right as he observed Betsy try and reach out her hand carefully to pet his horse. Bowie was the same as him. An old mutant with of a certain character. But he was curious if the damn thing would let her pet him or if it would bite her hand. It just neighed. The horse didn't do anything, but let out a sound as the girl pet him. That was a first. Did she have radcaps on her to feed it?

"That has never happened before." The ghoul spoke as he was perplexed by his longtime companion's serenity.

 

[Infab]

"Really? Thrive off chaos and death? Then why are *you* so far from your pack? Piss off your overboss? Couldn't pull the trigger when it mattered?" Runt taunted, trying to poke a hole into her bullshit. "Couldn't *stand* the shit any longer?"

Morgan's grinning mask faded as he spoke, her expression shifting slowly into a more serious one. "Little of this, little of that. Though I cut out a chunk of the problem on the way out of LA." she eventually responded, before tilting her head to the side a bit. Her lone eye locked onto Runt's own pair. "I'm guessing you're also a long ways away from Vegas for similar reasons... or I could be wrong. Raiders tend not to leave their own by choice, though."

Her attention was then drawn away briefly, her head shifting about to look to Slade again. "Could be option three if he hits me again." she said, a more devious grin appearing on her face before she shifted her attention back to Runt. "Eh, Vegas? Or shall we continue on with option two?"