The Metal Heart
A Fallout 3 RP

They won't get to me. Why? They don't know me. They don't know what I do. They don't know what I look like. They don't know who I work for. And even if they did, they will NEVER know what I am capable of until it's too late. But for now I have to keep going. Moving. Running. Hiding.

My metal heart ticks on.


SCENARIO
The year is 2273.

Traders have been given a vast number of holotapes and tasked with distributing them throughout the DC Wastes for a sizable sum of caps. They're passed along and handed out, usually ending up in large stock at the Capital Wasteland's many settlements or in the corners of the city, where raiders and Brotherhood Outcasts roam. The content of the tapes asks any adventurers seeking a well-paying job to locate the recently established camp northwest of Tenpenny Tower. To acquire the briefing, the adventurers should ask the guards at the camp for "an employer". Few other details remain on the holotapes.

Our story begins when [a maximum of] 5 people enter the camp and await their instructions from the leader of the camp.

RULES
1: PM me your character sheet (shown below)
2: Do not uber your character (do not make your character some sort of all-powerful God who can do anything).
3: Don't control other people's characters without permission from the other person (not in this thread: I recommend a PM).
4: Do not attempt to move the story along. Sure, go ahead and perform actions and such, but do not make Non-Roleplayer Characters (NRPCs?) say things that change the story. Go ahead and say "Character X gets pissed", but NOT MUCH MORE (PM me for exceptions)!
5: Try to give every post depth. However, keep in mind that sometimes people get bored of you describing your every little action and might skip your post. Try as hard as you can to make good post lengths, but don't worry about it TOO much.
6: Don't say you have a Fat Man. Most combat in this RP will be too bunched up to fire a nuke into. Just for realism. PLEASE.
7: Sniper Rifles are okay to the specific extent that a person wielding one can't say "stand back, I'm going to go off and shoot everyone for you from afar so as to ruin your RPing experience". Provide BACKUP with them, maybe. Be a nice sniper.
8: Don't be an Enclave soldier. It's just awkward.
9: Having fun is a crime punishable by death.
10: I am TOTALLY not being sarcastic for number 9.

CHARACTER SHEET
This obviously outlines your character, who is essential for you to use so as to RP. Fill in and PM me the sheet for approval!

NAME:
AGE:
RACE: [you can be a ghoul as a sort of nationality]
GENDER:
FACIAL APPEARANCE: [how your face looks, doy]
BUILD: [how your body looks, doy]
--
FACTION: [stuff like Raider, Brotherhood Outcast, Rivet City citizen. NONE is also an appropriate answer. It is assumed that if you are in a faction that has an enemy, these people will be hostile towards you. Raiders may be able to be hostile towards other Raiders]
HOME: [The Citadel, Megaton, and Tenpenny tower are examples. NONE also works]
SKILLS: [Choose a maximum of three skills that your character is good at, the ones from FO3 like Small Guns, Science. Make up your own if you want, but make it believable]
--
DESCRIPTION: [generally a backstory or a quick profile of your character]
TALENTS: [a maximum of three things your character does well]
DRAWBACKS: [a minimum of three things that impair your character, like a fear of raiders or complete stupidity]
--
APPAREL: [some form of clothing or armor you are wearing. Don't limit yourself to pre-existing stuff ingame. Be as descriptive as the number of pockets you have if you really want to! NONE is SORT OF an allowed answer, but DO NOT BE SILLY]
WEAPONS: [don't uber, folks! Be descriptive if you want. Maximum of three. I'm assuming you have 60 to 100 rounds, but THIS WILL WEIGH YOU DOWN. NONE is an okay answer]
OTHER ITEMS: [anything as long as it doesn't make you some sort of god. Minimum of two. You may be weighed down by too many items; pack smartly and realistically]

CURRENT RP'ERS LIST
There is 0 positions left! Shucks...
1: Psymplejester
2: Freak Show
3: BGursky59
4: The Cardinal
5: ForcemunkeE

NAME: Rosie "Red" Redgrave
AGE: 23
RACE: White Polish
GENDER: Female
FACIAL APPEARANCE: Rosie has very pale white skin and sharpe facial features. Long Red hair, to the bottem of her shoulder blades, always tied up.
BUILD: She is about 5,2 her body is quite muscular but not to a point were she has lost her female attributes.
--
FACTION: Red was a member of a Group of Outcasts, however she was shunned for being in a relationship with another member of the Outcasts.
Her and her lover eloped but sadly he was killed in a vicious battle to try and free some slaves.
HOME: Using her powers of persuasion Red made it into Paradise falls and joined in on a few raids against the Outcasts, upon hearing of the holotapes she left in the middle of the night, opening all the slave pens before leaving.
SKILLS: Big Guns, Explosives and Speech.
--
DESCRIPTION: Before joining the Outcasts Rosie was in the Brotherhood of steel, however when a man who she was very fond of left to join the Outcasts she followed him without asking any questions.
TALENTS:
Rosie works well in small places, with her heavy flamer she is the perfect asset to a small group travelling through building ruins.
She works well in small groups, her Brotherhood and outcast training has taught her how to look after every man and leave no one behind.
Rosie is good in hot situations, her quick tounge allows her to talk her way out of many paperbags.

DRAWBACKS:
Rosies armerment of a Heavy Flamer and Grenade launcher makes her not as useful as others in open area combat.
Although she owned a suit of Power Armour she no longer has it due to its leg hydrolics breaking, she was in too much of a rush fleeing from the Raiders of Paradise falls to take it along.
Rosie is emotionally unstable due to the loss of her partner, because of this she sees building relationships with men as cheating on her ex-lover and distances herself from men.

Weapons:
Rosie carries as her main weapon a Flame Thrower... In her unit it used to causes problems because she often is unable to use this as her squad members are either in the way or the corridor is too narrow. To solve this she also carries a twelve cylinder single handed grenade launcher with a variety of different grenades.

Equipment:
As Rosie was the squad Heavy weapons soldier with her Flamer and Grenade launcher she has a very heavy kit bag. This explains why she is very muscular. On her back she has her Flamer tank, a kit bag and a slung grenade launcher. Her armour is combat armour however it has been completely covered in flame retardent paint to stop it setting alight, it has a turtle neck to protect her neck and her gloves are made from kevalar again to stop burning. On her face she wears a gasmask with her tied up hair sticking out of the back between the many straps.
Her gasmask has inbuilt a voice modulator from her BoS days, allowing her to speak clearly without removing the mask.

Misc:
Rosie carries a small comb in her inside briast pocket of her combat armour, this comb was given to her by her mother.


Introduction:
Rosie saw the camp come up over the next hill, it looked no different to every other attempt at safty out in the wasteland.
Make shift fences around ruins of buildings, a few scraggy guards.
As she approached closer she spooted a door in the fence made of wasteland crap nailed and rivited together.
A man stood on the door, he had the look of a mercenary wearing leather armor.
As she got closer she noticed he was caucasian with a brown hair.
As she neared even closer she noticed the look on his face, his eyes glued on her huge flamer pointed uneasily at his chest...

She entered speech distance, a speaker on her gasmask phizzed into life,
"I am looking for an Employer" This raised the tension on the mans face even more as he heard the speech through the BoS Voice Modulator.

You young guard gulped almost swallowing his adams apple and opened the door for Rosie.

The guard, Jeff, looked uneasily at the girl. People can't holster flamethrowers, can they? was the first thought that came into his head by the time she was within firing range. He opened the door for her.

"Go into the third tent from the left," the guard replied uneasily. "the one with the two guys by the door. Once a few others show up, my..."

Jeff tried to find the right words. "My, uh, my manager will explain the task."

My MANAGER? What the Hell? What am I, a Super Duper Mart employee? Jeff reflected on his choice of words.

***

But it's not about what they don't know about me, it's what I know about THEM, you see, THEM. By now they should be rounding up freelancers, getting them ready, the damned fools. At least I'm glad they're usually taken care of before I have to clean it up. Ironic. I'm of utmost importance and yet at the same time I'm the guy doing janitor duty, hiding the dust under the carpet.

Damned fools. I've got a metal heart. Don't they see? A METAL HEART, SEE?

NAME: Mike
AGE: 17
RACE: Caucasian
GENDER: Male
FACIAL APPEARANCE: Young, somewhat gaunt. Green eyes. He has a a goatee that covers just his chin. He has a bowl cut and all of his hair is purple.
BUILD: 5'8". 136 lbs. Athletic build. Lean muscles and a six pack.
--
FACTION: None
HOME: Rivet City
SKILLS: Small guns, Repair, Explosives
--
DESCRIPTION: Born in Rivet City, and was taught to shoot by his father. He also had knack for taking guns apart and putting them back together. He also liked to play with things that go boom, and can make bottlecap mines as well as Nuka Grenades. However, he's not so good at making the grenades and prefers not to make them.
TALENTS: Shooting, fixing random things, and running
DRAWBACKS: He has episodic bouts of depression; he's not stupid, but he's not really that smart; and he's a huge flirt when it comes to the ladies
--
APPAREL: Regulator Duster from Fallout 3, and aviators in the daytime
WEAPONS: Hunting Rifle, .44 Magnum, Switchblade
OTHER ITEMS: Two Stimpaks


Intro:

Mike walked upon the camp. He had discovered the holotape in the market back in Rivet City. His family wasn't doing well, and he figured he would be able to make a few caps off of this job. Whatever it may be.

He wished he was back near Rivet City, sniping at Super Mutants and Raiders approaching the city. That was a fairly common occurrence. Still, as he approached the camp, he got somewhat nervous. He didn't let it show as he approached the guard however. He walked up and said, "I'm looking for an employer." His hand was close to his .44 as he said this. He was a pretty quick draw, and should be able to put a couple of bullets into the guard if he needed to.

Jeff eyed the kid and noted his seriousness. Tense. Must've led a hard life, huh, he thought. The Wastes had this effect on people: youngsters would head out into the Wastes earlier and earlier. By compromise, he wasn't COMPLETELY aiming at Jeff, so he couldn't be all that bad. Jeff led him into the tent and resumed guard duty.

Terry threw the dead cigarette to the dusty floor and crushed it beneath the heel of his trainer. The camp mentioned in the holotape was no more than twenty or thirty yards away from him now, or at least he thought it was the camp, it looked exactly like all the others out here. As he walked the last few paces to the leather armoured man standing in front of what must be the entrance way, he could feel the small bulge of the knife handle upon his briast and the pistol holster bouncing against his thigh. He hoped they wouldn't be needed any time soon.

Greeting the guard with a slight nod of his bald head, Terry stated "I'm looking for an employer," and waited for the reaction of the guard.

And then there were three.

Jeff was getting a bit more used to the idea of random people with large supplies of weapons and ammo looking at him funny. He did the same thing with this new guy and continued on staring ahead for any new faces on the horizon, while the cloudless, irradiated sky moved on. I guess once this whole "camp duty" thing is over, uh... THEM, HE, whoever the Hell's in charge, is gonna transfer me back to the experimental pile like all the others. Shouldn't have trusted this guy. But I don't have much of a choice anymore.

***

It's not just me who's covering up the tracks, it's THEM, too. I've seen how the job's been done. They never say enough. They're vague, they're circular. All those people I've killed, you could see their last thoughts right in their eyes. I never knew, dear God, I never knew, PLEASE, the pain, etcetera. I never stop to wonder why, at least it means they're giving me a head start, right? They just happen to like me or even NEED me enough for it. They buy me time, and the metal heart never misses a beat.

Name: Vladamir "Bear" Kamarov
Age:45
Apperrence: 6'1, 160 pounds,Caucasian (Russian), Rugged brown hair that stops right above his eyes, thick goatee, very strong upper body.
Clothes: Brown Ushanka, heavy black flak jacket, heavy duty brown cargo pants, black comabat boots, black t-shirt under Flak jacket.
Weapons: a Draganov sniper with a sling, and a 44. magmum revolver, combat knife (strapped to boot)
Equipment: brown duffle bag with a sling which holds:ammo, and very little food, pills to steady his hand when sniping.
Skills: Rifling (sniper),first aid, and is very good a navigating.
Bio: Was born in a Russian coloney set up in Alaska after the war. There he was taught navigating and military skills. He and a squad
were sent out to head for D.C. but the exipetion went bad when they ran into a large feral ghoul nest. He was one of the only ones who were not killed
but he became seperated from the squad.He spent over twenty years alone scaviging the D.C. wastes. He has rarley went into town. Upon scaviging the D.C. ruins he came into a holotape that
explained a merc job.
Talents: Knows alot of the D.c. wastes from scaving it for 20 years, Is very good in wide open places, can lift heavy things.
Drawbacks: needs pills to steady his hand occasionaly when sniping, since he dosent visit towns often he does not have a very good tounge, because of his old age he has problems long distances.

He approached the gate with a cigar in his mouth. He waited a second staring down the place. He then said to the guard " Im looking for your employer....."

Jeff, growing sleepy, was losing some of the rigidness in his appearance, his shoulders were unkinked and his gun was placed beside a chair a few feet away; the damned Chinese make their guns way too heavy, was his general thought on his lack of protection.

Another guy, this one kind of Russian sounding with the thickest goatee he ever saw (how does he keep the cigar from burning it off?), did the whole "employer" shtick in front of Jeff.With a bit of inexperience mixed with laziness, Jeff pointed to the tent and said "go in THAT one. We've got enough room for one more person after you, so it shouldn't be long before you'll get the briefing. Three others are in the tent. Mingle or something."

With that, Jeff dozed off into a light nap.

***

Night. Perfect. If anything can conceal activity, it's one of your goddamned senses turned off. I always relax a bit more. It's colder, everything's a bit clearer, your nose hurts from taking in too much air.

Oh God, the air. It wasn't always like this, but I couldn't tell you. A dream of something more, but a dream and nothing less. Just like the water or the people or the children or the diseases or the threats or the geiger counter's jumpiness or the fact that my heart is made of something other than flesh or the cold feeling in your chest because you traded in that humanity, that tiny shred of you, for something you thought was better or ohgodohgod I'mthinkingfartoomuch.

A dream of something more, but a dream and nothing less. I gotta write that down.

Terry had been in the tent waiting for a short while now in a somewhat awkward silence. With him were a man, a few years younger than himself, or so he guessed, with an odd purple haircut that had made Terry do a double take upon entering the tent. There was also a young redheaded woman he deemed to be about his age, she was certainly attractive looking, but he doubted most men noticed this, their eyes would likely be drawn to the enormous flamethrower held in her hands.

A man roughly Terrys size entered the tent a short while later and Terry greeted him with a small nod. He didn't look like the sort of bloke you messed around with, and Terry made a mental note to stay on his good side as best as possible.

The silence was becoming overwhelming to him. "You all here looking for an employer too? Got yourselves holotapes, right?"

Rosie removed her gasmask in responce to Terry's attempt to socialise...
Her pale delicate face now revealed to the group.

"No, I followed the magic pixie..." Her easern european language was very strong,
"Do you intend to kill much with your pea shooter?"

"If you would like a bigger gun, I have scavenged 10mm Machine Pistol in pack..." Pausing to see his responce,
"They did no good to the raiders however so I doubt they would be much use to you."

She thought very little of Terry, she had not yet even learnt his name but it was quite obveous he had not spent much time in the wasteland.

Mike looked to the woman and said, "Well, he can reach out and touch more people with that 'pea shooter' than you can with that monstrosity. Well, to each their own. So, names? I'm Mike."

This was going to be a fine journey if he had to work with these guys. The guy with the 10mm would need another weapon though. Heck, Mike felt he might need one. With this group, an assault rifle might be needed just in case. He'd live. He hoped....

NOTE: The last player will be arriving shortly. Please be patient, okayz? Then I'll get this story going.

Name: Aaron Delaney
Age: 28
Race: White Canadian
Gender: Male
Facial Appearance: Tanned I guess, creepy all black eyes (Not all pupils you just can't see them...) and a cheerful look all the time, except in battle.
Build: Martial Artists Build (If you need more of a description ask )
--
Faction: None
Home: Anywhere and Everywhere.
Skills: Unarmed Combat, Medical and... Blacksmithing.
--
Description: Aaron was born in Canada but traveled to the US making a living for himself doing little odd jobs for people. He got a holotape and was interested in what kind of job....
Talents: Martial Arts (Duh?), Making things out of metal... (Again Duh?) and he is an excellent doctor.
Drawbacks: Hates killing, refuses to use guns AT ALL and will save anyones life no matter what unless he is told not to.
--
Apparel: Pants, running shoes and a pullet proof vest.
Weapons: Studded gloves, shoes, shin pads and elbow pads.
Other Items: Medical and Blacksmith supplies he carries in a back-pack. (He improvises allot of things....)

Intro:

Aaron was walking to the camp when he saw a guard so he walked up to the man and said. "I seek an employer." And waited for the guard to respond or for him to walk away and Aaron would follow him. As he waited he dug threw his pack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and took a small drink.

OCC: Sorry I took so long!!!

As the last traveler, Aaron, entered the tent, so did Addams. His features were slightly plump, and his business attire stood out from the armored adventurer's.

"My name is Addams, it is a pleasure to meet you all."

His smile, his cheeks, and his eyes were rosy in color and demeanor, giving him quite an odd, cheery look, while his French accent had a few odd knacks to it, almost as if it was fake. It was quite apparent that he was from the Commonwealth. He cleared his throat and continued.

"The assignment that we have for you is basic in explanation, but quite difficult in nature. We need you to find THIS man and kill him." stated Addams quickly, while giving each person in the room a small rough drawing of a male Mexican man with his hair cropped behind his head and big eyes. His face was thin, as if he was underfed.

"He travels with no given name and avoids conversation. He is continuously heading eastward into Washington; he is a "runner", if you will. Our sources suggest that he is quite fast, very dangerous, and well guarded. He will have hired mercenaries to kill off those who seek him on his travels. We believe one of these mercenary camps is at the RobCo facility; if you happen to have a, how you say, interview with them concerning the runner's location and destination, it should be easy enough for you to track him down. We have provided you with ten stimpaks for your travels," Addams pointed to a table with various medical supplies. "You have ten minutes to get ready and leave off for RobCo, to the east. Do not return until you have proof that you have killed the runner, upon which you will be given 3000 caps each. Adieu."

With that, Addams left the tent, leaving the five adventurers to their most probable fate: their deaths at the cost of knowledge and progress for his goal. Addams knew such a cost too well.

"Aigh, is ok... If we be going to to RobotFactory I guess I will 'ave to break out the Ee'Em'Pe Gernards." Her polish accent deepend further,
"Dish out the Stims so that if one person dies we do not lose our whole supply..."

Rosie stood up and swung her grenade launcher to her front, putting the kit bag on the bench on which she had been sat she took out a variety of grenades.
2x EMP, 5x HE, 4x Buckshot and 1x Tear gas and loaded them into her 12 Cylinder Grenade launcher...
She took out a old beat up 10mm Machine Pistol and 40odd 10mm bullets, holding it out to Terry...

"My name is Redgrave, ex-Knight Redgrave..." Passing him the 10mm pistol and ammo.
"Dont shoot me in the back with it..."

She turned her arm and twisted a valve on her flamer tank, and a very quiet woosh of air sounded through her flamer, she then pressed a switch and a spark lit the pilot light at the end of her weapon.
"So, who wants to lead?" she smiled and clipped on her gasmask covering her face from the others, her voice then changed dramatically as it instead was being played through the voice modulator.
"I believe the Factory is about a 45 min walk from here maximum..."

"Damn our first mission will be in close quarters probally." Vlad murrmured. He then proceded to the table and grabbed 2 stimpacks and then put them in his bag. He saw a young couple exchanging a few items. He then heard the polish talking girl say the walk is 45 minutes. He pulled out his hand made map and studied it for a few seconds. He then murmurred more like an hour but nobody heard it. He then proceded out the tent to ask to ask Addams somthing but he was no where to be found. Vlad then stood by the tent opening waiting for everybody to get set while smoking a cigar.

At the sight of the young ladies array of grenades, Terry could feel his palms beginning to sweat and was conscious of his face going crimson. He'd never been comfortable around explosives, and Redgrave seemed to have her own little armoury of them.

Despite her somewhat icy demeanour he smiled at her as he took the machine pistol and the ammunition. "The name's Terry," but she had put her helmet back on and turned away from him before responding. "Tha's a shame really," he thought to himself. "Quite a sight for sore eyes that."

With the machine pistol given to him by Redgrave in his hand he left the tent leaving Mike, Redgrave and the male who had yet to introduce himself inside. At the flap he spotted the large bearded male smoking a cigar, and felt the immediate urge for a cigarette. Lighting a match he popped the cigarette into his mouth and took a few drags before speaking. "Looks like you're all set for the journey? What's your name, fella?"

Aaron grabbed two stimpacks and walked to the boy who's name was Terry "Stay close to me boy." He then walked out and waited with the other not socializing but still with a cheerful look on his face like always. After awhile he started doing some stretches and just getting generally ready for close combat.

Mike stayed in the tent with Redgrave. When Redgrave asked who would lead, he said, "Well, I think that you shouldn't. I will say I think you should go into any small rooms first and burn whatever might be inside. As for the wasteland, I think the guy with the sniper rifle should scout ahead. If he wants someone to back him up we'll be close behind him, but he should be able to spot most of the things that come our way. He should also pick off the guards at the facility. If it's unguarded on the outside, I'm hoping you don't mind burning a lot of rooms."

Mostly everyone left the tent, this was not going to end well if they stayed like this. They all needed to work together. They needed a plan of action. He was hoping this ex-knight was one of the smarter ones from the Brotherhood...

" You can call me Vlad or Bear, son." taking another smoke from his cigar and putting it out with his finger. He then looked at the young boy and said" Whats your name boy?" He then stared off in the direction of the RobCo factory waiting for a reply.

She saw Terry's cautious look at her as she was loading her grenade launcher; and then saw a rather different expression as she put on her gasmask and checked her hair.
"Do not worrie kid, we had a deal aigh, you dont shoot me in the back, and I wont shoot you in the back." A note of sarcasm filled her voice.
"You dont think I keep myself so beautiful by firing grenades at point blank do you?"

After her jokes she set off. Not wanting to be told anymore about how to use a flamer indoors by a young kid with purple hair...
Her huge weight of kit not even seeming to burden her but so far it was just her who had set off walking, some hokerr was doing streches and the burly Russian was ready but waiting for the others.

Heh, Im sure me and bootskin will be best of buddies... She giggled to herself in her head, if he ever runs out of matches he can light his poison on my pilot light.

Rosie saw the large Russian fellow catching up with her, his skin looked like warn leather.
"Eigh russian, you look like you have spent too many days in the sun for our type..." She laughed to indicate the joke.
"Your skin so brown and tanned you look like you been on the recieving end of my flamer..."

She let the flamer hand on the sholder strap and took the weight with one of her hands, holding out her hand to shake the mans.
"Tis good to meet another of our minority"

"The name's Terry," he said before reaching out his hand to shake. Realising he still had a lit cigarette poking through his fingers, he quickly withdrew it. "Burning a hole in the guys hand... yeah, that'd be a great impression," Terry sarcasticaly thought to himself while taking another drag and watching the martial artist warm up.

The woman with the armour had left the tent now and spoke to Bear warmly. "Jokes about flamer accidents?" he thought to himself with a small shiver. "Maybe I'm not quite as toughened up as I thought..."

Seeing Terry trying to shake Vlad's hand but with a lit cig he looked Terry over. A couple of seconds later a redheaded girl reaching her hand out making a joke about the wore look of his skin. He shook her hand and Vlad said " Thats what years in the wasteland do to you miss." He then stared at the nut without a gun warm up. After he was done socializing he continued to wait.

SCREE!

Yeah, that's right, SCREE, thought Colt as the last few shots rang out of his clunky hunting rifle and into the last mole rat in the room. He brushed his dirty blond mohawk back (damn, I'm glad hair gel survived the holocaust) and holstered the rifle.

"Hey, J.G, the rats are dealt with! Get in here and see if we can't make these terminals work!"

J.G limped through the metal doors into the RobCo greeting room, where a few terminals were set up. He slumped towards them slowly, trying to remove his flimsy biker goggles. Colt gave J.G a toothy grin. "C'mon, man, let's get these tin cans to work!"

"Yeah yeah whateverthehell ya want..." mumbled J.G half-heartedly, stepping around a few rat carcasses and making his way towards the dusty computers. He chose one, took a seat, and then began to type some gibberish that Colt couldn't understand while looking over his shoulder. "So we've already set up a bit of a perimeter outside. Three guys handle the front, two sweep the building's sides, four will stay inside and then step out once any trouble occurs, and we hang around wherever for now. If we're lucky, I can get these robots started up, and then protecting this place will be a whole lot easier."

J.G's computer gave a resulting DING at the end of his sentence and J.G replied "Ding!" back to it. The five robots in the room whirred to life, each one blathering in a robotic voice about its copyright and shareholder RobCo's laws.

"So how can we be sure they won't start firing at us?" asked Colt, eying the Protectron closest to him.

"It's simple. I offer them a specific clearance on a maximum number of people, like a lineup with a limited number of people allowed into a specific room. In our case 11, right? I think it was usually used in metro stations to deal with human traffic. I reprogram them to use lethal force against anyone else in the area afterwards." explained J.G, quite surprised Colt would ask him about his coding expertise when he usually avoided any technology like the plague.

"So now we wait for the svckers to come! Great! Let's celebrate at the patio outside with a few beers, eh?"

"Nah, they all seem to taste like sour milk, anyway." J.G muttered as Colt left to go to the outside of the RobCo facility.