» Fri Apr 01, 2011 4:06 pm 
IT'S A GAME OF GIVE AND TAKE
Craig Tremont was so happy, he was whistling. The sun beat down hot and harsh, the air was so dry it stung his nostrils, and he just barely escaped with his life from a Super Mutant, but none of that mattered to him. Not today.
Today, he was leaving to go see his girl.
It all started a few months ago. Craig had received a letter, by mistake, from a woman named Maureen. He didn't know it was a mistake, at the time, and was ten kinds of flattered that he had such an admirer. He wasn't the most handsome man, and he knew it. His nose was too large for his face, and his hair was mousy and flat. He had blue eyes that were positioned nicely, but his large nose made them appear to be too close together.
He was short. He was bony. His facial hair grew in sparse tufts along his chin and jaw.
He was single until the day he got that letter.
Dear Muffin,
I couldn't take my eyes off of you that night. I was so drunk I didn't dare speak to you, but after you left I made sure to get your name and address. I was too drunk to remember your name or address. I have sent this with a letter carrier and a description of you and I hope it reaches you soon.
All I want you to know is that I've thought about you every day since then. If you choose not to reply, I would understand.
I just hope you do.
~ Maureen D'Coutenere
Craig had written a reply with much gusto, though he had been a little confused.
Maureen,
What a pleasant surprise. I had no idea anyone had noticed me anywhere. I'm not quite the type to be noticed...
Your return address is in Point Lookout. Are you sure I am the intended recipient of your letter? I live in Megaton, in the Capital Wasteland. In any case, I don't mind a new pen pal.
Sincerely,
Craig T.
A few weeks letter, a response arrived.
To Craig,
A couple of months ago, I was visiting my cousin in Megaton. We were celebrating her birthday and had quite a few drinks. You must have been in the Saloon because if you're the man I'm remembering, you have blue eyes and really short hair, and were drinking beer. My cousin has since moved from that town, or I'd mention her name to see if you know her.
I hope this letter doesn't cause problems for you, if you are already married or seeing someone. If not, I'd really like to at least make your acquaintance.
Yours sweetly,
~ Maureen
For nearly a year after, Craig and Maureen exchanged letters. He was hesitant at first, wondering how well you could get to know a person based on letters alone and without meeting in person. He would give a few details here and there at first, not sure how much he should let on. Last thing he really wanted was to strike up a pen and paper romance with a ghoul.
Maureen, however, seemed to operate as though she were an open book. Every letter after the first couple were multiple pages. She'd ask questions and describe all sorts of details about her life. It seemed endless. Craig found her candour endearing and eventually had warmed up enough to tell her things about himself as well.
Maureen said she was a fur trader, living in a house handed down to her by her relatives in the marshland of Point Lookout. Her family had been fur traders for many years, and seemed to prosper even more once the rodents turned huge. When she was very young, her father went out hunting but never returned. Terrified of the idea that such a future lay in store for all the children, never having liked the family trade anyways, Maureen's mother soon married a moonshiner. The man drank as much as he sold, though, and the family fell on hard times. Maureen's brother had picked up the fur trade again but the prosperity was never the same.
Craig had little to offer both in the way of condolence or commiseration. He told her a bit of his own family history but it didn't seem any more interesting or less difficult than most trying to survive two hundred or so years after a nuclear war. His parents had been scientists but Craig had no aptitude for any kind of academic career. He wandered away when he turned fifteen, hoping to find some trade to apprentice, or a caravan to join...or maybe he would join the Brotherhood of Steel.
It had been five years since and he still was wandering the wasteland. Megaton was the most permanent place he'd found at that point. It would appear that his generally apathetic attitude could earn him a lot of caps, mediating disputes for the local law. He spent a third of his earnings at Moriarty's quite consistently. The fact that Maureen had seen him at the bar didn't surprise him.
Maureen didn't seem daunted in her doting on the faceless man behind the words and name. She thought it was interesting that a person could make a living simply by talking to others, and without having to heavily rely on bartering. She'd only been outside of the Lookout once but thought “city life” was so fascinating.
Craig smiled to himself as he walked along past the ruined buildings that lined the river. It was as though they were two sides of the same coin, a perfect compliment to each other. The letters began to become more...affectionate. She began to address him as “Muffin” and he liked to use words such as “honey,” “darling,” and “sweetheart.” He would read and re-read every letter multiple times that came until the next one arrived, smelling the paper, telling himself she must hug each one before passing it along. The content of their letters became far more personal. They'd express hopes and dreams, little personal nuances, things that made them the people they are.
Craig found himself falling in love with Maureen. He just had this feeling she was the sweet and gentle person she had let on. He brought up the subject of visiting her, and she replied very positively. A couple letters later, and he was on his way to the riverboat landing.
The woman operating the boat had bright orange hair and a bubbly personality. She talked his ear off the entire trip. He wasn't too bothered by it, his thoughts preoccupied with meeting Maureen. He imagined finally touching her hair, snuggling together under the stars, raising their children on a little reconstructed ranch somewhere out by Girdershade...
He stepped off the riverboat and felt as though he were losing a small part of his soul. A thick fog seemed to hang over the whole area. The ruined amusemant park was particularly haunting. You're just nervous because it's different from home. He bid Nadine goodbye and walked through Pilgrim's Landing. A slight breeze stirred some ancient litter on the ground. The air smelled absolutely disgusting. He pulled his shirt collar up over his nose and continued to walk.
Craig easily followed the directions Maureen had laid out for him. He was impressed at how accurate they were. No one in the Capital Wasteland could give proper directions to anywhere. I love this place already.
”North of Haley's Hardware, there is a beautiful, but small, house next to the river. The one with the pair of red chairs outside on the porch is my house. You just come right up to the door and give 'er a big 'ole knock.”
He smiled and tucked the letter into his jacket pocket as he approached the house. Something about it didn't seem right. It didn't seem to look as old as he expected, if her family had lived in it for generations. Well, the hardware store is right there. I'm sure a new coat of paint did it wonders.
Craig puffed himself up and preened a little. He straightened his collar. The sound of the swamp bugs singing was a little disturbing, as he wondered how big they'd become due to nuclear fallout, but he didn't let that concern him too much just then. Some methane belched out of a nearby mud puddle. He raised a fist and rapped soundly on the screen door.
It swung open and before he could figure out who, or what, had come to greet him, the double barrel of a shotgun was between his eyes.
“Who the [censored] are you?” growled a deep, but definitely female, voice.
Sweat started to bead on Craig's forehead. He had raised his hands up to his shoulders' height. “M-my name's Craig, Craig Tremont. Maybe I have the wrong house, I'm looking for Maureen D'Coutenere...?” His knees knocked together as he trembled.
“Maureen! Who's at the door?” barked a voice from inside.
The shotgun lowered. The woman carrying it was tall but her body made Craig think of a humanoid twig. Her hair was very long, to her knees, but dirty and stringy. She had light green eyes that sparkled. Her face was pretty but she was missing the majority of her teeth, and the ones that were left were stained dark yellow. She grinned.
“Well, I'll be. You actually came, like you said. You're makin' me feel bad.”
Craig blinked, confused. He still held his hands up. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and dripped off his jaw. “Maureen...?”
“C'mon in, Muffin.” She nudged him with the barrel of the shotgun towards the interior of the house. “Let me get you a drink.”
Craig didn't move. “You're Maureen?”
“It's me, love, your one and only. Don't tell me you're disappointed...?” She pouted. It contorted her pretty features.
He bit his lip. “No, but I was a little surprised at the greeting.”
“Maureen!” bellowed the voice from inside again. “Who the [censored] is at the door?”
“...and that you're not alone.” Craig was starting to regret having made the trip. A breeze picked up from the river, rustling the tall grass and bringing the smell of mud and decay to his nostrils.
“That's just my brother. You should come in,” she smiled, reaching out to grab his arm and pull him into the house.
He let himself be led inside. Craig looked around the dimly-lit residence. In a single room stood a stove, a pantry shelf, a table with two sad looking chairs, a sink and a couch. Empty cans and moonshine bottles were strewn about. On the top of the pantry shelf sat a stuffed doll wearing a thin gold necklace. He felt his heart sink as he realized he had sent that necklace to Maureen as a gift a few months ago.
“Ashton, Craig is here,” Maureen called into the house. She pushed a hand against Craig's chest and shoved him onto the couch, discarding the shotgun by dropping it onto the floor next to the table.
The man she addressed as Ashton hobbled out of one of the rooms down the hallway. He leaned heavily on a crutch that wasn't tall enough for him, causing his back to hunch in what looked like a painful arc. His left leg was missing from below the knee. His hair was a striking shade of red – a natural red, unlike Nadine's orange – and looked soft and shiny. He glanced up with eyes that were two different colours, one brown, and one blue.
Ashton smiled. “Well, howdy. Nice to finally put a face to a name.” He made his way down the hallway to stand in front of Craig.
Is everyone from the swamp ridiculously tall? Craig swallowed, though his mouth was dry. “Hi, there...” He glanced towards Maureen who was pouring a clear liquid out of a moonshine bottle into three glasses. “You're Maureen's brother, she said? She mentioned you in her letters.”
Ashton grinned. He was missing just as many, or perhaps more teeth than Maureen. He extended his hand towards Craig. Craig wiped his clammy hand on his pants leg before offering his own to Ashton. The latter gave a strong squeeze and a quick pump before releasing and settling down onto one of the chairs next to the table. Maureen set a glass in front of Ashton, then walked one over to Craig. The man from the Capital Wasteland sniffed the liquid and took a tentative sip. The moonshine was strong and whatever flavour it might have had was totally overshadowed by the alcohol burn.
Maureen flopped down onto the couch next to Craig. She smiled again. Craig thought he still liked her but was a little put off by the fact that her brother was sitting right there. He wanted to reach over and put his arm around her shoulder but the memory of having a shotgun in his face was still quite raw. She knocked back the moonshine like it was water and tossed the glass over her shoulder. It landed with a clink but did not shatter.
He sipped his drink again and couldn't keep himself from making a face. Ashton and Maureen both burst out laughing. Craig smiled sheepishly and set his drink onto the floor next to him. “So,” he began nervously, wanting to break the ice, “here I am.” What a stupid thing to say.
“So, here you are,” Maureen purred. “It's great to see you, Craig, really. Really great. Ashton and I, we didn't think you'd ever actually come.” She swung her legs up and across Craig's lap. His face flushed instantly. “You're so cute right now.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, staring into the floor ahead of him.
Ashton licked his lips, watching, but did not say anything. He sipped his 'shine.
“You're bein' shy?” Maureen slid over and draqed herself right across Craig's chest. “I didn't think you were like that. Not with some of the things to promised to do to me in your letters.” She traced a finger down his arm and he involuntarily shivered while his face turned even more red.
He cleared his throat. “I...um...” He had to shift himself where he sat.
Her finger traced back up his arm, across his shoulder, up his neck and into his hair. She playfully bit his earlobe. “What's wrong?”
Craig's hand twitched. He wanted to wrap his arms around her tiny frame but he couldn't bring himself to move. “Why is he here?” he asked dumbly.
“Huh? Who? You mean Ash?” Maureen grinned and looked deeply into his eyes. “Why wouldn't he be here?”
“Isn't he your brother?”
“No.”
Craig felt his heart in his throat. “You just said, though --”
“A little lie. Didn't want you running off right away, you just came all the way from D.C., ain't ya?”
He swallowed. “I don't know what you mean, then.”
“Ashton is my husband,” she cackled. “Drake should be along sometime, soon, too. You might like him better. Ash doesn't like to talk all that much, but he loves to watch.” Maureen looked over and winked at Ashton, who grinned and nodded.
“You have more than one husband?”
“Of course I do. Can't just put all your bottles into one crate, and sometimes one's in a bad mood or somethin', it makes a girl bored. Writin' to you, well, that was a lot of fun. We all enjoyed that.”
“...'we all'?” he croaked.
“Don't matter now, now you're here.” She bit his ear again.
This was wrong. It was all wrong. “Maureen, I don't want to share,” he blurted. He didn't really know how else to express what he was feeling. He felt duped, and utterly stupid.
Maureen had taken to kissing down his face. She paused. “Is that so?”
Craig blinked. “Well, yeah. I didn't know you were...already spoken for, when we were writing those letters. I thought it was just you.” He tried to wiggle his way out from underneath her legs but she was strangely heavy.
“It is just me. And Drake. And Ashton. What's the problem?”
This just got really [censored] awkward. “You know what, it's okay. I'm sorry that I wasted your time.” He offered a smile and pushed her legs off his lap. Craig stood and straightened his jacket and even smiled at Ashton. “I'll just be heading back to the riverboat.”
Suddenly, the door to the house burst open. A huge brute of a man with misshapen arms and hunched shoulders walked in, dragging large wire traps that dripped mud and water. “I caught some real nice frogs for us,” he bellowed by way of greeting.
“Drake, you're home,” Maureen bubbled, sauntering over to where he stood in the doorway. “We have a guest. This is Craig – you remember, right?”
Drake squinted and looked at Craig for a long moment. Craig felt as though the shotgun was pointed at him again, and started to sweat and tremble. “The idiot guy from D.C.?”
“That's him, that's right,” she cooed, nodding her head and stroking his arm. “He's come to stay for dinner.”
“Oh, hey now, no, I was just heading out --”
“I love flesh with frogs,” Drake replied, smiling and licking his lips.
“It's his favourite,” Maureen nodded.
Craig thought his heart had stopped. “I really think it's time for me to go.” He stepped towards the door when he heard the horrible sound of the shotgun being pumped behind him. Ashton must have taken aim.
His mind raced. He shuddered and raised his hands again. “Look, y'all don't want to eat me, I'm just skin and bone, probably full of rads.” Craig grinned in spite of himself. Come on, you're the star mediator of Megaton, talk your way out of this. “I admit I had certain intentions towards Maureen --”
“And how,” Ashton interrupted.
“--but you have to confess that you led me on a bit here, made me think things that just weren't true. Weren't true at all. I'm hurt and yes, I'm disappointed, but I'll move on.” He took another step towards the door.
“Don't move,” Ashton warned behind him. “You DC types are the best. Surprisingly well fed and not too heavily irradiated...”
“You came all this way, you gotta stay for dinner,” Maureen said, her eyes glimmering. The frogs were croaking in their traps. Craig thought they were particularly loud.
“I really would rather not,” Craig replied. He tilted his head as he took one last look at Maureen. His heart ached a little as he looked at her pretty and devious face. Suddenly he doubled over and charged towards the door.
The shotgun went off behind him. Drake howled out in pain and blood spray from his arm hit Craig in the face. Maureen screamed. Drake reached out with his good arm to try and grab Craig, but Craig was faster and out the door. The shotgun went off again and clipped him on his inner right thigh. He stumbled, stinging and cursing, but was too preoccupied with escape to stop and check how badly he was wounded.
He ran a few more steps when he was tackled by the waist and brought crashing down into the mud, face first. Craig thrashed and struggled to get free. When he looked down he saw it was Maureen latched onto him. “What are you doing? Just let me go!”
Maureen met his eyes for a brief second before lifting his jacket and shirt to sink her teeth into the soft, fleshy section of his abdomen just below his ribs.
“OWWWW! Jesus Christ, what the [censored] is wrong with you?!” he shrieked. Craig took two fistfuls of Maureen's hair and pulled. Her head jerked up and she let go to reach towards Craig's hands and force him to release her hair.
Without really thinking, he swung a fist towards her face as hard as he could. It made contact with the bridge of her nose and hit hard enough to make his hand hurt. Maureen was flung backwards and landed, sprawling, onto her back. He turned and scrambled back to his feet. Craig heard the shotgun go off again but didn't feel anything hit him.
He ran all the way back to the riverboat, never having felt so empty and humiliated in his life.
All your characters have...well, character. :thumbsup: 