Jiggs & Prime: A condensed collection of ravings from a psychotic wasteland prankster. This drivel is not intended for those faint of heart nor those who consider themselves not of sound mind. It is nonsensical, non-canonical crap, masquerading under a haughty air of self importance and verbose overindulgence that very few will enjoy and most will indeed malign!

DISCLAIMER: I AM the CEO, founder, and majority shareholder of Bethesda Softworks LLC, ZeniMax Media Inc., Obsidian Entertainment, and ALL of their subsidiaries, affiliates, joint ventures, and overseas publishers. I am also the SOLE owner of all Fallout intellectual property and must personally approve, in writing, any film or written work of Fallout fan fiction posted on this site or any other. Additionally, I own the office park located at 1370 Piccard Drive Rockville, MD, were Todd Howard, Emil Pagliarulo, and the rest of the Fallout development team have been imprisoned, in a dark cellar, forced to subsist on only the sugary red nectar made for humming bird feeders while Fallout 4 is painstakingly developed. I hope their hard work on Fallout 3 has paid off, and that you have enjoyed MY game.

Forward

“Those who begin their stories with pompous quotes should spend some time to think of something original and witty to say for themselves instead.”
- Aristotle. . . . or Mao Zedong

What follows is really the story of Jeffrey Cross, known to his friends by the nickname “Kush.” Kush was a failed businessman and entrepreneur who had made a decent living shipping water between Canterbury Commons and Rivet City until some [censored] activated the Jefferson Purifier and the Brotherhood started handing out water for free. This ‘selfless’ act by some sappy, immature teenager put Kush’s fledgling operation out of business in one fell swoop.

After drowning his woes in liquor and cheap women, Kush set out to make it big once more by scouring the DC Metro ruins for valuable salvage. One day, when Kush was searching through the Museum of Technology, he found several snippets of old security camera footage left over from years earlier. The footage featured a short black man, possibly a raider, rambling to himself in a manic frenzy – the unfortunate side effect of a combination of several dozen, debilitating neuroses.

Kush found this footage so entertaining he took it with him. Ever the entrepreneur, he later converted that footage into a radio show and sold the idea to GNR. Kush’s program soon replaced the endlessly looped, “Adventures of Herbert ‘Daring’ Dashwood,” and the sale made him enough caps to buy a penthouse suite in Tenpenny Tower, where he still lives to this day.
What follows is the script of the Jiggs & Prime radio show created by Kush back in 2279.

Episode 1: Terminal 001 – Code # is 19

Setting: DC Museum of Technology, ground floor, April 1, 2277, 12:47 P.M.

[Prime enters the foyer of the museum and walks over to the reception desk. He has just shot a supermutant dead. Its hulky body is slumped over the front desk next to one of the museum’s ancient terminals. Prime walks over to the terminal and boots it up.]

Hey-hey hey there Jiggs. . .Jig Jig Jig, Jigitty Jig Jig Jig –Jaaaawwuuu! It’s your buddy, Prime, got another riddle – more of a code I guess. . . a patterned sequence of numbers for you to follow - the regular breadcrumb trail of fractional factorials, indivisible integers, and plucky little palindromes. I’ve hidden lots and lots of loot for you to find at the finish line, so you better get a’ cracking on this code. . .daddy-o. . .

What should the first number of my sequence be. . .hmmm, perhaps it should be a 3? 3 rhymes with ‘be’. . .and its also prime. . .I’m Prime and do I looove me a rhyme. I’m the most gifted lyricists this wasteland has ever seen.

Oh yeah, daaaaaamn right . . . I’m the rapper extraordinaire. Three Dog would have signed me if I hadn’t fried his dish. I’m a rappin’ mathematician, a Muslim muezzin, callin all of ya’ll to prayer with my magical numeric and linguistic incantations. . .I’m NOT a freaking electrician! Not my fault his dish couldn’t handle my grooves. . .

Just wanted to pirate the airwaves for a few minutes - play my holo-tape demo for the whole wasteland to hear - get funky respect from DJs here to the Commonwealth, dig? . . . hehehe. . .

[Prime turns to look at the dead supermutant. A large piece of the mutant’s skull slides off the countertop, lubricated by a slick of fresh, wet gore]

You wanna hear my mad lyrical skills, dead mutant? Check this. . .

Like my Xuanlong foo?
It’s baddest-looking assault rifle you’ve eva seen,
With a one-third larger magazine,
Knocked you down with a rat-tat-tat,
One three shot burst, and that was that. . .hehe. . .
You don’t look so hot now, with only half of yo’ head,
If I didn’t already know it,
I’d guess you was dead. . . . ,
But before they dipped you into that vat of FEV,
Were you a sixy little girl, all primmed and pretty?
The way look now, I can’t really tell,
One ugly, androgynous mademoiselle,
[Verse censored],
[Verse censored],
Hahahaha. . . .

Yup, the illest rapper out there. . . I’m an arithromaniac with ADD, OCD, and a [censored] - an idiot savant, that’s what Doc. Church diagnosed me!

[Prime turns back to the terminal]

Hmmm now, still need a number for you Jiggs . . . maybe a two? Two’s prime too! But two is too easy, just a single digit won’t do. . .better make that two, too! Two digits, that’s the gas!

[Prime rubs his hands together and runs his fingers across the keys]

Let me see. . . 11, 13, 17, 19, 23. . . all prime. . .like me - like beef, the rib I mean - prime rib - Grade A stuff - marbled and tender, goes down smoother than ice cold Nuka-Cola on a hot wasteland afternoon. . .I’m slick, sly, suave, and sneaky as hell – that cat who woos your woman and then sneaks back in to steal your stereo. . .hehehe. . .

[Prime shakes his head and slaps himself in the face to regain his concentration]

NUMBERS! Uh. .. . well. . .what do we have again. . .13. . .but that’s just unlucky . . . wouldn’t want to leave bad juju for Jiggs – he’s my buddy. . .11’s too repetitive, just two ones pushed together. . .no style, no flair . . .altogether not clever. . .

19?!?!?

What’s 19 again????

. . .that’s how old we were when we first hooked up, Jiggs - waaay back in Megaton – remember those digs? What a prig - Lucas Simms - can still picture his beet red face that day we put mines under the septic tanks and when they blew, a fountain of [censored] sprayed out from the rest rooms, and plasted the front of Moriarty’s saloon. Hahahahaha. . .that old ghoul spent hours scraping scat off the walls . . .and Simms was huffing and puffing – threatening to rip off our balls. . .

Totally worth getting kicked out of town - I’d do it again. . .we got to get back to that kind of hijinx. . ., now it’s all about caps. . .looting and shooting. . ..no time for just laughs.

[There is a loud crash upstairs followed by lumbering footsteps and a guttural groan. Prime gets down on his knees and gently taps on the keyboard]

Well here bud, I’ll make it 19 to remember old times, gotta check the upstairs . . . see what’s been clued in to my rhymes. . .

Tune in next week. . . .

*FYI: This story is based on the unmarked FO3 quest 'Jiggs' Loot.' Look it up.

"There is no "I" in team, John. . .unfortunately, there is no "U" in team either. . . you didn't make the team." – My High School Track Coach

"Heh-Hey there wasteland. Remember children, when two dogs aren't enough, and four dogs are one too many, there's THREE DOG - and you're listening to Galaxy News Radio. We're radio free wasteland, and we're bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. . .

Next up we have yet another episode of everyone's favorite radio show, Jiggs & Prime. Next week, the creator of Jiggs & Prime, the grand maestro himself, Mr. Jeffrey Cross, will be here live in studio. We'll discuss the origins of Jiggs & Prime, life in Tenpenny Tower, and perhaps even Vault Dweller. He will also take your questions live on air.

So children, if you have a lot of time, ammo, fire power, and a complete lack of sanity and common sense - make your way over to GNR - he will be here. . . but don't come crying to old Three Dog if some supermutant makes a snack out of your skull on the way. Yum.

Speaking of mutants, Three Dog would, again, like to extend an invitation for a supermutant to come speak over the airwaves, live in studio. . .preferably one from the Master's army, since they might be capable of forming sentences beyond angry threats and enraged groans. Come and discuss life after FEV, insatiable psychotic rage, how it feels being yellow, or most importantly - where you get those nifty outfits. . . I mean do you sow them yourselves; is there a factory somewhere that churns these out - how the heck do you get those digs and where can I buy me a pair for the kids. . .

Contact GNR and we will give you an hour to rant and rave about all aspects of forced evolution. . .

Now children, here it is - Episode 2 of Jiggs & Prime. . .well. . .right after this brief paid advertisemant"

[Whooowooop]

"Hello sir or Madam. It is I, Crazy Wolfgang, the craziest of Wolfgangs at your service. My caravan offers the rarest of rubbish, the height of detritus, the veritable pick of the litter so to speak. Come see my caravan anywhere on the trade routes between Megaton, Paradise Falls, Rivet City, and Canterbury Commons - four convenient wasteland locations so you don't have to look for Crazy Wolfgang - Crazy Wolfgang comes to you. Mention this radio advertisemant and get an empty bottle of Nuka-Cola or a box of Abraxo, gratis, while supplies last. . .

Remember - Crazy Wolfgang's - your one stop shop for the unusual, the unique, and the utterly useless!"

[Whooowooop]

Episode 2: Terminal 002 – Code is 53

Setting: DC Museum of Technology, ground floor, April 1, 2277, 12:55 P.M.

[Prime is in the foyer of the museum. He has just heard a crash and an inhuman groan come from upstairs. He carefully makes his way up the staircase.]

I hear you upstairs little chickadee. Trying to scare me? All of those creepy groans – it sounds like you got something caught in your throat. What's got you so mad? Little old me?

I ain't nothing to you; just another wasteland scavenger trying to make a cap or two. Got no idea what makes you mutants so pissed off all the time. Take a breath, try and chill; it'll be fine. . .

[The supermutant hears Prime's ramblings echo up the staircase. It screams "Huh! Kill you!" and begins to stampede across the offices.]

Kill me? You ain't nothing to me. A low down, down out, nobody. Mutated hunk of nothing, that's what you are. Hiding in shadows and creeping in corners. I'll put you down psycho, I've killed my share. Ain't nearly as scary as a slaver or a jetted-up raider. Those cats can think - they plot, connive, and scheme. You're dumber than a dead tree, got all those burly muscles but a brain the size of a pea. . .

[Prime puts his Xuanlong Chinese Assault Rifle to his cheek and pokes the barrel around the doorjamb. A supermutant is lurking inside the room peering into each of the cubicles searching for Prime.]

There you are ugly. Why you got on them pilot goggles – make you like a yellow Red Baron.

You must be a mutant master, a mighty, murderous monster, mutated back when the wasteland began. Spent the last two hundred years snatching up people like a jacked-up boogieman. . .

Well I ain't afraid of you, you big dumb lug. Mess with me, and you'll get a face full of slugs.

HEAR ME! I ain't afraid of you!!

[The supermutant turns and locks eyes with Prime. It screams "UURRRRAAHHH!" and begins to charge. Prime smacks the hammer on his Xuanlong.]

Wana make a meal of me ugly [censored]?

Well, I'm ready! I'M PRIME!

[Prime opens fire. A three shot burst hits the super mutant in the windpipe. As it reels from the impacts, Prime holds down the trigger, pumping its twitching body full of lead.]

I told you – I'm prime. I'm elite, the best, the sine qua non out here. A wasteland commando, a shock troop - no one's more of a cold blooded killa then me. Behemoths, giant scorpions, Yao Guai, they try and start something, they go down one, two, three. . .I'll take em all on, I'll do it with GLEE. . .hehe

[Prime hears a strange slithering sound. He looks to his right and sees dozens of tentacles sticking out of a doorway. A centaur is lumbering its way into the room from a side entrance.]

Who we got now? A centaur? A centaur is supposed to be a man and a horse. You look more like a man mixed with a bear and a squid. . .

[The centaur rounds the corner and hocks a wad of irradiated slime at Prime. It barley misses him, and begins to dissolve the paint on a file cabinet standing behind him]

Don't spit at me, you slimy, naked, [censored] dude. Think you so tough? Well now you just screwed.

[Prime ducks around a cubicle, comes up next to the centaur, and empties a clip into its skull.]

And that is that. . .

[Prime stands over the body of the centaur. It oozes blood onto the floor. As Prime watches the blood pool on the floor, he notices another computer console through the doorway at the very end of the hall.]

And what do we have here? Another terminal. . .another chance to leave a breadcrumb for my buddy, Jiggs? Awww, Jiggs. . .Can't wait to meet up with you pal. I better get a crackin' on that code before more mutants and monsters work their way out of the woodwork. . .

Hmmmm. I need a prime number. Prime, prime, prime. . .what do I know that's prime? I'm Prime. I'm young and I'm in my prime. A twenty four year old six pot, making ladies swoon since 2253. . .

2253?!?! Remember back then Jiggs? Before the East Coast Brotherhood, before the Enclave, when I was born back in Rivet City? Wasn't much more than a Mirelurk filled rust bucket back then and still is. .they still haven't cleaned out the place - it'd be so easy. . .what gives?

Well I'll make the next number 53 to commemorate my birthday. I know it's unoriginal, but what can I say? I'm being hunted by a museum full of maniac mutants – pardon me for being cliché.

Tune in next week. . .

"Insert vaguely humorous quotation [here]" – Robot humor

"Hey there children. If you're just tuning in, this is THREE DOG, and you're listening to Galaxy News Radio. We're currently here with Mr. Jeffrey Cross discussing his creation, everyone's favorite radio show, Jiggs & Prime. Now, continuing our discussion, what in the heck is your beef with the kid from Vault 101? He's a wasteland savior – he activated the Jefferson Purifier so we can all have free, clean water, he saved Greyditch from a colony of giant fire ants, and he even found the time to destroy the Enclave base at Raven Rock to boot."

"Well, you see, this is the kind of propaganda that really irritates me. I mean did the vaultie do some good – yeah. Did it benefit everyone? No. I mean yeah, we have clean water, but now we have more raiders, Talon mercs, and criminal gangs flooding into DC from the counties to try and steal that water. And I guess he 'saved' Greyditch - but who lives in Greyditch – no one. Have you been there? It's a ghost town. He may as well have left it to the ants and spent his time cleaning up Paradise Falls or Evergreen Mills. As far as Raven Rock goes - he destroyed Raven Rock. I wish he'd left the base intact. It was rad free and full of all kinds of useful tech that we could have used out here to rebuild. It had verti-birds, sentry bots - everything. Such a waste blowing it up like that. . .and people tend to overlook all the evil he did. I mean besides murdering all the ghouls under Tenpenny and killing that poor Antagonizer lady, he was a thief. I know for a fact he stole from Moriarty's Saloon, from half the merchants in the Rivet City Markets, from the Ninth Circle - he even stole from the poor shlubs in the Temple of Union. So don't go saying he was a saint - he was just another guy like you or me. That's all I'm trying to say."

"Oh. . ."

"So yeah. That's my beef. That and the fact that he completely ruined my water caravan. . .I mean, that was great gig I had going. Had to fire all my mercs. Where do you think they're working now? The Super Duper Mart? Ha! Right. . .half of them have become raiders. . .think of all the good people he put out of a job with that little purifier stunt.

"Okay. . .lets move on to take some questions about Jiggs & Prime from real life listeners who are here - live in studio. Our first listener is Ms. Sierra Petrovita from Girdershade. You are on air with THREE DOG! Your question please."

"Hello. Oh my gosh! I am such a big fan of yours, Mr. Kush. . .can. . .can I call you that? Mr. Kush? Or do you prefer Mr. Cross?"

"Kush is fine."

"Great! Okay, okay. . .my question is - do you know anywhere were I could find a bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum? I love the stuff!"

"Hmmm. . .I would check the old Nuka-Cola plant a little north of Tenpenny Tower."

"I've already been there and I really need-"

"Or, you could try up by the Republic of Dave. There's a big overturned truck there full of Nuka-Cola bottles. Check there."

"Well then, if we could move on to our next listener, and perhaps a slightly more relevant question. . .who do we have? Mr. Bill Wilson from Andale, you are on GNR with Jeffrey Cross and me, THREE DOG!"

"Hello, Three Dog. My question to Kush is this - what is your opinion on cannibals and cannibalism?"

"Uh. . .okay, children. Old Three Dog here seems to be experiencing some technical difficulties and we will have to take a brief-"

"Could I answer that, actually?"

"You want to answer the cannibal question, Mr. Cross?"

"Yeah."

"Ummm. . .okay?"

"I think. . .hell, everybody's got to eat, right? Why not eat a dead body? As long as you didn't kill the poor guy, the least you can do is get some usage out of his corpse. It'll just rot there in the sun or be picked apart by mole rats anyway. Not that I've ever tried human myself. . .never been that hungry or desperate. Although I am a tad curious how we taste. . ."

"A bit more gamey than Brahmin with a little hint of lemon."

"THANK YOU, Mr. Wilson. Moving on to our next listener, we have Holly from Meresti Station, you are on air with THREE DOG and Galaxy News Radio!"

"Hi Kush. Three Dog. I'd like to stay on this topic actually. Is someone still a cannibal if they only drink human blood instead of eating human flesh?"

"Could you please limit your questions to things that are relevant to Jiggs & Prime? Nuka-Cola, cannibalism, and possible vampirism are not relevant to the show, children. Old Three Dog here has no idea why you came out to GNR to ask these things."

"Alright, well. . . I have another question. . . I live in an isolated, underground compound with a group of societal outcasts who drink human blood while they listen to the messianic preachings of my husband, Vance. So. . .so. . .so my question for Mr. Kush is – am I in a cult?"

"Yes, you are in a cult. Next question."

"Okay children, we only have time for one more. Something about Jiggs & Prime this time, please! Ms. Brailee Ewers from Arefu, you are on air."

"Hello, Mr. Dog. My name is Brailee Ewers. It is soooo lovely to meet you and Mr. Cross. I just wanted to come here and invite both of you to Arefu to try one of my delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies. I brought one with me for Mr. Cross to try."

"This is not a cookie. This is a tin can."

"Hahaha, you're so silly, Mr. Cross! Just like my husband. Well, anytime you want to come and visit us, just ride the metro, line 6, all the way to Seneca Station. We're the first house on the left with the red shutters and the white picket fence. Don't mind our little dog, Sparky, he never bites. I'll keep two beds ready and I'll have a hot pie cooling on my windowsill for you. Pleeease come out and visit our little slice of heaven, it's so beautiful this time of year."

"Heh-Hey, looks like old Three Dog needs to find another city to move to. . .one were everyone's mind hasn't melted into a pile of mush. . . .I'd like to give an extremely slight thank you to our mentally disturbed listeners, and to Mr. Cross, for his good humor. . . .and now children - Episode 3 of Jiggs & Prime! Enjoy!"

Episode 3: Terminal 003 – Code # is 113

Setting: DC Museum of Technology, second floor, April 1, 2277, 1:05 P.M.

[Prime is looking into the planetarium in the museum. Down the hall from him is another console. Guarding the planetarium are two supermutants. One of them has a rocket launcher slung over its shoulder. The other has a minigun.]

I see you two, standing up in the bleachers like security guards. I bought my ticket - I got my day pass. Now step aside and let me past.

What are you doing in a planetarium anyway? Don't you have somewhere better to be? Go attack a Brotherhood outpost, raid some town, or take another long bath in FEV!

Anytime I find somewhere interesting to scrounge, there's always a troop of you uglies around!

[Prime fiddles with his Xuanlong assault rifle. He notices a switch on the wall. It turns on the planetarium's projector and audio.]

Oh hehehehe. . .have I got an idea! Put on a little show for ya. Give all ya'll supermutants an astronomical education. Teach you about the sun, the planets, and every constellation. Sagittarius, the Pleiades, Taurus, Orion. . .your gona learn so much without even trying!

[Prime flips the switch. The room goes dark and the projector at the center of the planetarium comes to life, filling the domed ceiling with a swirling pattern of stars. The audio kicks in and begins to say "welcome to the DC Museum of Technology's Hubble Planetarium. The projection you see above you is that of the night sky in the Northern Hemisphere. Please turn your attention towards the particularly bright star a little above the entranceway. That is Polaris, our north star. Notice how the other stars in the sky seem to rotate around it?"]

Entertained by the show? Well sit back and enjoy - It'll be ova before ya know.

[The two mutants look up at the fake sky in confusion. They then turn to one another, "huh? What this? What happened?" The mutant with the rocket launcher begins to ready the weapon, "someone here!"]

I'm here and I'm primed! I'm ready for this little starlight, Lite Brite, fire fight. Just step right up, into my line of sight!

[The supermutant with the minigun begins to approach Prime's position. Once Prime sees him come into view, he immediately opens fire. One of his rounds tags the supermutant right above the eye. The mutant is knocked back and it involuntarily squeezes the minigun's trigger. The right side of the planetarium is drilled with a stream of 5mm rounds.]

Hahahaha! Miss much, you dumb [censored]? Spit out a thousand rounds and still got no luck. Sad for you cat, but I know how to aim. Now you're gona wish you never-

[Before Prime can finish his rhyme a rocket slams into the doorway next to him. He is blown backwards by the blast and showered with debris. Prime lays stunned on the floor for a second, his ears ringing]

Ooooow. . .am I dead? Feels like someone made a pi?ata out of my head. That was too close, got to get up. . .

[The two mutants begin to charge towards the doorway. Prime opens fire again, from the floor. The narrow hallway and the entrance to the planetarium light up with gunfire. There is another loud explosion and then, everything goes quiet. Prime is flat on the floor, now motionless.]

Still here? Still alive? They didn't tag me? I didn't die?

[Prime staggers to his feet. He brushes some dust off of his jacket and feels his chest for bullet holes. He is unscathed. Prime limps over to the planetarium. The two supermutants are dead in the doorway. The one with the rocket launcher accidently clipped the doorframe with a rocket and the resulting explosion killed both of them instantly.

Can't believe I made it out of that. . . must have been fate.

[A huge grin creeps across Prime's face.]

Allah oooooh Akbar – GOD IS GREAT!

[Prime turns back and looks down the hall at the terminal.]

Damn Jiggs, I've been getting really lucky. Time to leave another breadcrumb for ya buddy. . . .

Need another prime number. Used 19 and 53 already, so what else we got? Got of think of one quick before I get shot. . .

How about this time I go with three digits? 101, 103, 107. . . 113. . .131. . .157 . . .

101 is for the Vaultie, I'll leave that one alone. . .same with 131 - tired of thinking up palindromes. . .

103 and 107 are fine, but I don't want a zero in the middle. Gona use either 113 or 157 to finish my riddle.

I think I like 113 over 157. . .

Now gota jet out of here - swifter than that white horse Muhammad rode from Jerusalem up to heaven.

Tune in next week. . .