James Wilson- Brandy’s house – late mid-afternoon (so around 4pm)

Mirvin told James he was not allowed to enter on orders of Frieda…

“Okay fine I’ll leave But Mirvin why are you taking orders for Frieda” james said pausing for a second...

“You’re a free robot, do what you want do you, and Frieda works for the enclave, the bad people on the radio that go around shooting everyone they see but don’t tell anybody I told you that okay, I don’t have enough evidence yet… Oh tell Brandy I said hello,” James said as he slowly walked outside

[censored] now how am I going to give Brandy the cure

---

James began walking around town until he noticed a large house, or house 8 as it was on Celeste crudely drawn map.

Hmm I might be able to find a way into Brandy house from the roof, it’s worth checking who know I might find something interesting parker left, what ever happen to that guy anyway?

Walking inside the house, James heard Gun fire, shortly followed by two ghouls dress in dirty Chinese jumpsuits & cool hats come running down the stairs and towards the room were the gun fire came from…

Oh great now the pre-war Chinese hokerrs want Grayditch, serious after 201 years, you think they would of gone home by now…


Drawing his Magnum, James fired at ghoul with assault rifle, hitting him in chest, the other ghoul holding a sword shouted at James in Chinese

Nǐ wèishéme lái zhèlǐ dì měiguó gǒu! ( why did you come here american dog! )

Holstering his Magnum, James drew Graham sword and shouted, “ Welcome to Grayditch, you commie bastard!” before charging towards the ghouls

Měiguó gǒu nǐ de sǐ ! (American dog you shall die) the ghoul shouted and charged at James…

--Greyditch--
--Afternoon--
--Zardoz--

The diner's owner, Celeste, leaned forward onto the bar and whispered to Zardoz.

"The last one, he was nasty -- he was the one who hit me, little defenseless me -- and pulled out a grenade. There was a struggle. I couldn't watch...the grenade went off by the door, and Duncan," she stared over at his coffin.

Zardoz put his hand on top of Celeste's, "I'm so very sorry. He was a very brave man. It may be of little solace, but at least he died doing something worthy. . .protecting a loved one. . ."

"What time is the funeral? I'd like to make sure I close the diner in time to attend."

"Mr. Dobbs told me it would be in two hours or so," Zardoz put his hat back on, "I'm going to return to my wagon and change into something less ostentatious. Please have someone make an announcement before we head off to the gravesite. I shall prepare a eulogy immediately."

Zardoz exited the diner and climbed into his wagon. Nikita was already inside, tallying their inventory. He rubbed her back for a moment and then took off his blue jacket.

"We should both change into mourner's attire. I believe there is a black dress somewhere around here. We'll head straight from the funeral off to Megaton," Zardoz thumbed through his bible and squinted down at the old text, "hmm. . .the Psalms. Have to pick something from the Psalms. Very memorable and poetic."


--Greyditch--
--Pawnee's House--
--Pawnee--

Pawnee picked a tin can up from the floor with his mechanical arm. The task wasn't easy. It slipped out of the power fist twice. On his third try, he grasped it too hard, turning it into a wad of crushed metal.

Whoa. . .better not shake anyone's hand for a while.

He turned the hand over and studied each of its fingers. They moved as one - he could only ball them up into a fist.

Down in the street, below his second story bedroom, Nikita announced that Zardoz was closing up shop. Pawnee wasn't sure if he'd been swindled by the shrewd merchant or had just gotten the deal of a lifetime. He peered down at the wagon and watched Nikita pack it up.

I should pack up too. I don't think this town is for me. . .anymore. Just don't know if I'll be leaving with Frieda, or leaving alone. . . eh. . .another day or two here won't kill me. And I still have to make a decision about Bittercup.

Pawnee frowned at the thought. There was no choice to be made in that regard. He had already decided. He'd reached his decision the moment he found out where she was.

Mirvin. Miss Brandy's house. Afternoon.

Mirvin had waddled as far as the bottom of the stairs when the door opened behind him once more. Miss Brandy's house had become quite busy today, including Mirvin himself Miss Brandy had had five visitors. Perhaps this was why Miss Frieda had requested he keep people away from Miss Brandy for a while. Complying with Miss Frieda's instructions Mirvin once again trained his shotgun at the intruder. Mr James immediately put his hands up in a placating gesture, “Whoa Mirvin it’s me James Wilson don’t shoot me” Mr James said.

"I must apologise for this Mr James." Mirvin rasped. "However, Miss Frieda has ordered me to not allow entry to Miss Brandy's house. If you wish to leave a message for Miss Brandy then I will deliver it. I apologise again for any inconvenience this causes you."

“Okay fine I’ll leave But Mirvin why are you taking orders for Frieda” Mr James asked.

"Miss Frieda repaired me Mr James. Social ettiquette dictates I must return the favor by helping her, Mr Frank informed me so."

“You’re a free robot, do what you want do you, and Frieda works for the enclave, the bad people on the radio that go around shooting everyone they see but don’t tell anybody I told you that okay, I don’t have enough evidence yet… Oh tell Brandy I said hello.”

"Hello. Very well Mr James, message logged. I will deliver the message to Miss Brandy personally." This seemed to be acceptable as Mr James turned and left the house.

Mirvin took several thumping steps on the spot as he turned around and faced the old staircase once more. He was, despite the scarred man's earlier suggestion, quite capable of climbing the staircase. As he waddled upwards the stairs creaked under his weight, but they were sturdy enough and did not collapse. When Mirvin reached the landing he quickly scanned the area and could not locate the young man Miss Frieda had identified as Mr Ryler. Mirvin surmised that he must be looking for Miss Brandy in one of the bedrooms.

Mirvin pushed the bathroom door open and thumped his way into the room. Miss Brandy was still in the bath, her head tilted over to one side and her chest rising and falling slowly as she slept. "Miss Brandy." Mirvin rasped, waking the young lady up. "I have some messages for you. A man with several scars on his left arm visited you and asked me to deliver this message," Mirvin's synthetic voice was replaced by that of the man he had spoken to earlier. "Please tell Brandy that Duncan's funeral begins two hours from now, and that I was unable to tell her because I did not wish to be shot dead." once more Mirvin's regular synthetic voice resumed. "Also Mr James tried to also visit you, he also left a message for you, his message was," Once again Mirvin's voice changed as he replayed the message Mr James had left. "Hello."

Ryler North-Brandy's house

Ryler sat at his desk, flicking through the giant, book on medicine. The pages were burnt around the edges and the hardcover was scorched, but still readable. Two knocks at the door made him jump.

"Ryler! Are you here?" An almost manly but definitely feminine voice boomed.

“Just a second!” He called out, slamming the book shut. He strode to the door, grabbed the rusty knob and turned, to meet a serious looking Frieda, “Uh. . .hi. You need anything?”

"I have a bit of a sensitive issue..." Her serious eyes meet that of her tone.

Ryler felt his brows jump and eyes widen for a fraction for a second, before struggling to maintain a straight face. Is she pregnant? Has she run out of her feminine sanitary needs? Both? Wait, that doesn’t make sense. . .does it?

Frieda seemed amused by his expression. "No, it's not for me. It's Brandy.”

Brandy? Oh the clumsy but nice-looking one that walks into walls? Wait. . .so she’s the one that. . .

Frieda continued, “She's...got a problem with Jet. I need some painkillers that aren't addictive, and...well, you're the medic, you need to help get her detoxified. Grab whatever you need and let's go. She's in rough shape."

It took a moment to interpret what Frieda just said. He nodded stupidly, stumbled as he walked back to his desk and grabbing all the supplies needed. He opened the medicine cabinet and ran his eyes all over searching for the correct medication. He grabbed a white box along with blue one, then rushed out of the house.

As he exited the Clinic, a hand jumped out and grabbed him, practically dragging the boy violently down the street that would’ve been considered abuse had the bombs never dropped. This woman was bloody scary. Her gaze probably had the power to impregnate both men and women. Entering brandy’s house, Ryler saw that Mirvin was inside.

Frieda shut the door behind her, "Mirvin, it's...nice to see you." Her tone was true to her words."This is Ryler, he's a medic. I've brought him to help Brandy. ...don't shoot him."

“What!? Shoot?” Damn, this woman was so scary she could order a robot to do her will. She could rule over Grayditch with an iron fist as Queen if she wanted. Not that Ryler was going to give her the idea.

Frieda gestured to the stairs, "Go on up and find her. She told me she'd stop using Jet but I wouldn't believe her, she was pretty high strung. I'll go try and find her some water in her fridge."

Surprisingly, fridges still worked to this day, after the Great War with little energy. Nodding once again, Ryler darted up the set of stairs; the stained carpet turned a murky brown and the wallpaper a golden brown, peeling at the edges.

First, he checked the bedroom the find that it was empty, crap. Ryler saw at the end of the corridor, a door half opened. Maybe. . .

Ryler pushed open the door; the bathroom tilers were stained with who knows what, the mirror was smashed by some random person’s fist long ago, and there in the corner of the room was the bathtub, half filled with warm water. A sleeping Brandy had her body submerged in the water, one arm hung out the side and a head rested on the side. He noticed a purple bruise on her jaw, a bandaged arm. Small, healed wounds formed dried blood across her temple and forehead.

Brandy did not react to his intrusion, and immediately worry struck him. Ryler knelt by the bathtub, Brandy’s chest rose and sank (*? Sorry. I forgot the other word.) She was alive and breathing. Good. Suddenly, he realised that to take a bath of shower, it required for you to be. . .bare. Like, no clothes on. Whatsoever. She was like the Eve of the twenty-something century in the U.S. He hoped stupidly that Brandy was the sort of person that took a bath with clothes on. But who does that? My thoughts exactly.

GAH DAMMIT LOOK AT HER FACE YOU BLOODY TWIT! He scolded himself. Ryler shook her arm gently, “Bro?” Wow, really, bro? Of all the things he could’ve said, he had to say bro and not Brandy? The word ‘bro’ was stamped and sealed by the New Zealanders. Ryler mumbled intelligible some words, and lifted her chin with his index and middle finger. Her bruise looked fine as of now. Nothing serious. Well, not her bruise anyway.

The jet addiction was one thing, however. The other thing was that he was right beside a woman that didn’t have any. . .have any clothing. . .

“I have this thing – ah, I mean medication. It will cure you or your jet addiction. It flushed the jet out of your system, so for the first few years – wait, I mean the first few days, you will feel sick. But in the end, all will be well, okay?” He held the blue medication box up. “The other one – the medicine pill box thing with the white colouring is to fight the pain you will feel whilst the Jet is flushing out of your system. You need this. We need you here. Don’t waste your life on Jet.”

As of now, Ryler was trying to convince himself that if he so much as touched Brandy, unholy fire will burn from within her mouth and unleash it’s fierce heat upon him, then spears will shoot out of nowhere at high velocities as a vampire from New Zealand came and ate him, accompanied by mutant aliens from Australia. But it failed. Miserably.

Not being able to help himself, Ryler leant in to peck Brandy on the cheek. Oh dear Kate, what am I doing?

Amelia -- Moriarty's Saloon -- Late Afternoon

Amelia smiled with merriment. "Management," She cooed. "How tantalising."

"I'm sure that a pretty face can make all the difference." Amelia tilted her head sideways, looking up at the ceiling. "Well yes, it certainly helps. But a bit of intellect is handy too." Amelia looked down at Joe, who had managed to reclaim his bearing, yet his reaction wasn't exactly overjoyed with the recent turn of events.

"Try not to look so sullen Joe. I'm here to help."

The door opens once more, allowing a cool breeze to blow through the bar. Gob, with a woman that must be Calypso. The get up and appearance hardly surprised her, her time with Dakota had brought her attention to all manner of people in strange get up. Her arrival was certainly an impact on the room. "Colin, are you serious? Who the hell is this?" Joe said. No doubt this was a more cleaned up version of what Joe was actually thinking. "This is Calypso, Joe. She's coming along to set up her own..." -- "My own brothel Joseph."

Amelia watched her closely, the wasteland threw up all manner of people. 'What type of person are you?' She thought as Gob re-entered the room. Slightly peeved by what was on the plate as he handed it to Calypso. "Is that a [censored] heart?" Moriarty bellowed from his seat beside the bar. Amelia was shocked, not too shocked, but shocked. She looked over at Harold, even he looked disturbed -- That, or he was squinting. Harold was one of the more difficult people to read, partly because he seemed to be dead emotionally.

"For [censored] sake girl. What have I told you? Not in my town, I don't give a [censored] what you do on your own time, but you don't draw attention to yourself. And take that [censored] cloak off too."

"Tell me? Tell me?" She laughed pointing at herself, "You do not tell me, you ask, I do not like being told what I can and can not do. But, for me to change some of my characteristics, that will cost you Colin."

'Oh bravo, you sure can pick them Mr. Moriarty. A hireling with authority issues...'

"I understand there is an old pre-war bank in Grayditch no? That should be a suitable establishment for my services, I will take that in exchange for this favour that you ask of me. As far as the cloak, you will provide me with fine clothing to wear in exchange for me to not wear it in town. I do love extravagant dresses Colin, sounds fair to me, what do you think darling?"

She approached Amelia, running a fingernail across the counter before flashing a smile at her. To which Amelia returned with a smile of her own before turning back to Moriarty. "So when do we depart to the mission ahead?"

Joe Rennie. Moriarty's Saloon. Late Afternoon.

"Tell me? Tell me?" Calypso laughed, pointing at herself, "You do not tell me, you ask, I do not like being told what I can and can not do. But, for me to change some of my characteristics, that will cost you Colin."

"What do you mean cost me?"

"I understand there is an old pre-war bank in Grayditch no? That should be a suitable establishment for my services, I will take that in exchange for this favour that you ask of me. As far as the cloak, you will provide me with fine clothing to wear in exchange for me to not wear it in town. I do love extravagant dresses Colin, sounds fair to me, what do you think darling?"

"The bank? Heh why not? You pay the same rent and pecentage as everyone else mind you. That all sound fair to you Allistair?"

"Why yes Colin. I think that I will take care of the young lady's attire though. My dear pick out what ever items you desire from Mr Leggio's shop and have him forward the bill to me. Find yourself a courier and send him to my humble little tower, I'll give him the necessary payment for you." The elderly man turned his attention to the woman seated on the bar and smiled. "You too Amelia, pick yourself out something nice and wear it the next time you visit me."

"Ha! You old letcher," Moriarty cut in, "Right that seems to be you all covered then Calypso." He paused briefly, raising his eyebrows as he watched.Calypso approach Amelia, running a fingernail across the counter before flashing a smile at her. "For [censored] sake." He muttered under his breath. "Amelia my dear, what did you want to say?"

Amelia returned with a smile of her own before turning back to Moriarty. "So when do we depart to the mission ahead?" She asked with an innocent smile.

Wow, I'd forgotten how good she was. Joe thought to himself as he watched Amelia's almost flawless act. It's true what they say Joe, you can smell your own. She could almost manage to lie to me, she's got old Moriarty wrapped round her finger. Even I can't play him like that. Best be careful around this one keep her on your side if you can. Just when I thought I was getting it all in hand too, those [censored] raiders. Though I have to admit I could do with a more human looking assitant. I'll have to have a talk with her soon, catch up and see if I can find some angle with her.

"As soon as [censored] possable." Moriarty replied to Amelia. "I want you all back in town fast. This mess needs fixing up. Allistair and I want to see a return on our investments, is there anything else?"

"Is this all you called me here for Colin?" Joe asked, "Of course it isn't," Moriarty snapped. "I want you to aquire something for me. Those businesses I mentioned earlier, I want a much larger cut of them, the moonshine is going on sale in the saloon soon as well as in Mr Tenpenny's fine establishment. As is fresh brahmin milk. I want control of those Joe and you're going to make it happen. You understand me don't you?"

"I understand Colin."

"Good, then please... Get the [censored] out of here." Joe nodded and turned towards the door, catching a glimpse of Harold popping a couple of pills in his mouth and crunching down on them.

Harold. Moriarty's saloon. Late afternoon.

Harold glared at the cloaked woman as she ran her hand up and down his massive chest.

The giant reached out and siezed the deathclaw horns attatched at her shoulders and tore them off, shredding the fabric as he ripped the cloak apart. He lurched forward and headbutted the woman on the nose, enjoying the feeling as his scarred forhead pulverised bone and cartilage. As the woman fell to the floor Harold stomped across the room and smahed the thick, flat base of the deathclaw horn down on Tenpenny's head, snapping the old man's neck.

Tenpenny's corpse limply collapsed in it's chair and flopped to the foor in a pathetic heap. Harold smiled as he turned and grabbed hole of Rennie by the head, his massive hand completely engulfing the thief's face. With his other hand Harold siezing Joe by the waistband and lifted the smaller man off of his feet, slamming Rennie down on the corner of the bar and breaking his back. Harold grunted in pain as a blade scored a line across his cheek. It was the first woman again, Calypso.

She stood facing him, a kitchen knife clutched in each hand. Harold grinned as he wiped the blood from his face. "Another one for the collection." He rumbled as he charged at her. Calypso fought savagely as Harold drove her back across the bar, wildly slashing at his arms, blocking most of the blows he tryed to land on her. Eventually though Harold backed her into a corner. Raising his massive leg Harold kicked the much smaller woman in the midsection, winding her and doubling her up as she gasped for air. He grabbed her by her long hair and dragged her upright before driving the deathclaw horn into her windpipe. Harold looked into her eyes as she died, grinning like a miniac as the life went out of them.

A hand dropped on Harold's shoulder and he whirled round, raising his massive fist to strike again. He stopped. It was Mr Moriarty. He couldn't hit Mr Moriarty. He was Harold's owner, he gave Harold his pills and helped keep the headaches away. Mr Moriarty was good to him. Suddenly Harold felt cold steel at the side of his head. The other woman, Amelia had her 9mm pushed against his temple. She fired.

Harold blinked and looked around the room. "I understand Colin." Rennie said.

"Good, then please... Get the [censored] out of here." Harold pulled a couple of buffout pills from his pocket and pushed them in to his mouth, chewing them as he headed for the door behind Rennie.

Brandy - her house - afternoon


Brandy ran out of the house, rounding the corner she tripped over some rubble. Rolling over breathing rapidly, her knees bleeding, she went to get up. Up walked Frieda, plasma pistol in hand, she took aim.

"I told you no more, or I would kill you myself." Frieda smirked, "I should have done this the day we met."

In a fraction of a second, Frieda's finger pulled the trigger, the pistol glowed a bright green...



************************************

"Miss Brandy." Mirvin rasped, startling Brandy awake.

"NOOOOO" Brandy screamed, frantically looking around for Frieda, breathing heavily, "Oh Mirvin, you scared me. Is Frieda still here?"

"I have some messages for you. A man with several scars on his left arm visited you and asked me to deliver this message," Mirvin's synthetic voice changed, sounding like Bob, "Please tell Brandy that Duncan's funeral begins two hours from now, and that I was unable to tell her because I did not wish to be shot dead."

"Shot dead? What was he talking about Mirvin?" She furrowed her brow confused.

Mirvin's voice went back to normal, "Also Mr James tried to also visit you, he also left a message for you, his message was," now Mirvin sounded like James, "Hello."

"Hello? That's all? I bet he wanted to talk some more." Brandy was about to mock Jame's when she noticed Ryler peek around Mirvin.

Brandy was still buzzing pretty good, her body ached as she began to come down. She smiled at Ryler and blushed slightly. Ryler's eyes seemed to look her over, from her shoulder to her head. He nervously walked over and kneeled down, he lifted her chin with his index and middle finger. He studied her bruised jaw, her wounds on her head, and looked at her shoulder. Brandy smiled at his nervous actions, not noticing her own. She kept her left arm over her chest and her legs pulled up under her arm as well.

“I have this thing – ah, I mean medication. It will cure you or your jet addiction. It flushed the jet out of your system, so for the first few years – wait, I mean the first few days, you will feel sick. But in the end, all will be well, okay?” Rylar explained as he held a blue medication box up.

He seems so sweet and innocent, he's so nervous, she snickered.

“The other one – the medicine pill box thing with the white colouring is to fight the pain you will feel whilst the Jet is flushing out of your system. You need this. We need you here. Don’t waste your life on Jet.” Ryler said in a concerned voice.

Brandy bit her lip, "Sick?" She asked with a look of worry, "how sick, like what can I expect? It is really sweet for you to stop and check on me again."

Ryler paused looking at her for a minute, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. Brandy smiled and turned so that she could hug him with her left arm.

"Thank you Ryler" she whispered into his ear.

OOC---CC is with prior permission.


Bob Dobbs

House 8 – Afternoon

“I am really getting too old for this [censored]!” said Dobbs disgustedly as he holstered the revolver and flipped the selector on the CAR to Full Auto, then raised it to the ready. “Gotta remember to aim low and to the left….”

Dobbs took aim at the doorway as the footsteps reached the ground floor and more ghouls headed for the room he was in. The Holo sight showed there were two. Suddenly a green mark winked in with the two red marks. He was getting reinforcements.

I may just get out of this alive.

From down the hallway came a single shot….by the sound of it a .44 revolver. He heard a startled cry then the sound of a rifle falling and clattering along the floor.

He then heard a voice shout something in Mandarin, apparently at whoever was shooting at them.

“Welcome to Grayditch, you commie bastard!”, shouted James. Then another voice speaking Mandarin again, followed by footsteps down the hall.

It’s James! Gotta get out there and help him.

Dobbs stepped into the hallway, James and one of the ghouls were having at each other with swords, and by the look of it the ghoul had bitten off more than he could chew, he appeared hard pressed just parrying James’s flurry of attacks.

He’s got this in hand….remind me to never get in a knife fight with him.

Dobbs noticed that the other ghoul was down, but not out. He had crawled to his rifle, and was preparing to pick it up to no doubt shoot James. Dobbs rushed up to the ghoul and stepped on the rifle so he couldn’t pick it up. The ghoul looked up at him.

“Duìbùqǐ, tóngzhì. Kǒngpà wǒ bùnéng ràng nǐ zhèyàng zuò.”, said Bob softly, just loud enough for the ghoul to hear. He responded by closing his eyes, Bob then fired a short burst into the ghoul, killing him instantly.

Eventually, the ghoul James was fighting missed a parry, and was promptly run through the body, causing the ghoul to fall. James then leaped on him, stabbed him several times and then cut his head off.

“You lose, Commie!”, crowed James exultantly, brandishing his sword at the dead ghoul then looking around for someone else to fight. ”Alright, who’s next?” He then saw Bob and relaxed. “Hey Bob, what happened?”

“I think I can guess what happened to that Parker fellow”, replied Bob. “Either these guys cut their throats and fed them to ferals or scared them off. Either way, they picked the wrong house to move in to. And by the way, thanks for saving my ass.”

“Don’t mention it”, said James affably. “You think there is any more of them?”

Bob did a sweep using the Holosight. The Hand Comp showed 1 red mark, which meant there was at least one more threat in the building.

“Three down, and there is at least one left”, said Bob as he switched the CAR to his left hand so he could pick up the ghoul’s CAR with his right. “Put away that sword, fun time is over…this is business. I’ve seen how good you are with that sword, but we aren’t [censored] around…we’re all that’s between the people out there and these [censored]s. None of them are leaving this building alive, understand me?” Bob then shook the CAR in his right hand at James, then tossed it to him as soon as he was ready to receive it. “Use this. You downed him, it’s yours by right.”

James caught the CAR and checked it out. It was in good shape, even though the finish was worn, this weapon had clearly been maintained properly.

“Looks like a keeper, Bob.”, said James. “How are we for ammo? And where did you find that Holosight?”

“I’ve got two spare mags”, said Bob as he flipped the ghoul on his back and checked his chest pack. “He has six more. Watch the stairs while I get this off of him. The Holosight was in a box I found in the other room, I’ll let you take a look when this is over.” As James kept watch on the stairs, Bob removed the chest pack from the ghoul, took two magazines for himself, and handed the rest to James. He then took James’s place guarding the stairs while he put on the chest pack. Once he put it on, he grabbed the ghoul’s Ushanka and put it on.

“Always wanted one of these”, James explained as he removed a archaic looking pistol from it’s holster on the waist of the ghoul he had decapitated and examined it. “Hmm….the Type 17, adapted to fire 10mm bullets. Not very effective as a weapon but a lot of people collect these, they sell for a lot too. You can have the sword, but I want these and the uniforms on these two.”

“Sure”, replied Bob. “As long as you drag the corpses out of here so I don’t have to.”

“Fair enough”, said James. “You said you just found that Holosight, do you know how to sight it in?”

“Haven’t had time to read the manual yet”, grinned Bob. “It shoots high and to the right”.

“I’ll fix that”, replied James as he gestured to Bob to hand him his rifle. “Trade you for a moment.”

Bob handed James his CAR, and accepted James’s weapon. As Bob watched the stairs, James threw one of the dead ghouls over a rotting end table then pressed the sequence of buttons that started the sight’s auto-alignment routine. Once the display indicated it was ready, he aimed the sight reticule at a point on the corpse, then fired a round into the corpse, then put the reticule where the round actually hit then pushed a button. After a moment the sight chirped indicating it had adjusted point of aim successfully.

“It’ll shoot straight now”, said James as they traded rifles again. “That’ll be fifty caps, please.”

Bob looked at him quizzically.

“Just [censored] with you, Bob.” laughed James. “Let’s go get this over with.”

J.T. Taylor - Celeste's Diner - afternoon


“Hey, J.T.!”, said Bob. “I’ve got Duncan’s coffin here in the wagon. Could you help me get it inside? Once that is done we need to talk to Zardoz about the funeral.”

J.T. Turned around, "Sure, I'll give ya a hand Bob"

J.T and Bob walked over to the wagon, unloading the coffin and walking it into the diner. They sat the coffin down on the booth next to Duncan. As Celeste and the rest of the patrons watched, there was a sadness in the air. Once Duncan's body had been carefully placed into the coffin, Bob propped the lid up behind it.

Bob sat down in a booth after a brief discussion with James, he fiddled with an electronic device. J.T sat back at the counter when Zardoz strolled in.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he began, removing his hat and bowing, "I believe I have yet to make your acquaintance. I am Zardoz - the Munificent. My wagon has been parked outside of your fine establishment. J.T. and Mr. Bob Dobbs have retained my services. I'm supposed to do the eulogy for that brave soul's burial," Zardoz motioned to the coffin, "I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about this man - Duncan - so I can craft a worthy sermon."

J.T smiled, ever the charmer Zardoz, as he sat listening to Celeste tell him about Duncan. He finished his water and stood back up.

"Thanks Celeste, I will see ya in a lil bit." He gently put his hand on hers, "just remember, he's in a better place." And he went outside lighting a cigarette.

(OOC - Schmuty gave me permission to post as Zippo while he is busy with his studies. Kettle also said it was ok )

Atarah (Zipporah) Dorcas - Grayditch late morning through afternoon


"No..." Celeste answered, she appeared slightly annoyed, "James here has a job, he says. Otherwise, unless you have a trade, we could use some help picking up the town."

Atarah followed Celeste's eyes to James, he turned facing Atarah upon hearing Celeste say his name.

“Hello I’m James Wilson I'm sorry but I already gave Michael the job but might have job for you when he comes back… ” James said before she could even inquire about the job.

Atarah frowned, "Oh, well ok. I am Atarah Dorcas but most people I know call me Zipporah. If you would, please let me know if you do have a job. I plan on settling here. I'm tired of wandering from place to place."

Feeling a little rejected, Atarah wandered outside and looked at a few of the fancy merchants items. Picking up a racy red teddy, the strappy clothing subtly reminded her of the strappy raider outfit she once wore. Nothing really struck her fancy, so she walked around town.

She took notice of the various stores on the main block of town, Grayditch Arms, Emporium De Winters, what appeared to be a metal and electrical shop. Winter's shop tweaked her curiosity, she went to enter, but the door was locked.

Strange, its noon and they're not open? She pressed her face to the glass on the door, shielding the surrounding light from her eyes. Squinting, she noticed overturned shelves, and stock scattered about the floor. But not a hint of anybody inside. She knocked on the door and waited a minute, no answer, she peered inside again but saw no one. That sign looks new, it doesn't make any sense. Atarah's regulator instinct kicked in, feeling something was amiss she wanted to further investigate. Especially after recalling what she heard in the diner about a Raider attack.

Walking around the end of the block, there were several brahmin tied up in a small park. Atarah counted the back doors as she walked, stopping at the back door of the Winter's shop. The door was open, she leaned in, "Hello?" She called, but no answer. She unholstered her forty four magnum and proceeded inside, the magnum twitching slightly in her hand. People often took that as a sign of weakness, or cowardice, not knowing she once was a cannibal which caused the shakes.

Other regulators had harassed, and relentlessly picked on her about being a regulator with her size. But her short stature had proven very handy in her profession. Able to take cover behind smaller objects, and the ability to go where larger men could not. These assets had attributed to many of her successful captures.

Atarah cautiously swept every room in the back of the shop, the bathroom, a store room, what appeared to be an office, and the main part of the shop. Other than items scattered about, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Hearing a faint scratching sound come from above, she crept back to the staircase.

The scratching sound became louder as she reached the top of the stairs. On the landing there were two doors, one left and one right. Listening intently, Atarah went for the right door first, the direction from which the sound came. She could see someones feet lying on the floor, as she crooned her head, see a molerat gnawing on the persons leg. It stopped, sniffing the air, noticing the presence of her sweaty body. It turned and without hesitation and charged her. Squeezing off a round, hitting the ugly creatures torso, it made another lunge for her. Atarah trained her magnum on the creatures head, and pulled the trigger. The molerats lifeless body flopped to the floor, a trail of blood splattered the area behind it.

Atarah scurried over to the body, what would have been an handsome man lie there cold and lifeless himself. His throat had been cut, and clothing removed, all that remained were a pair of glasses on the corpse. Atarah scanned the ransacked bedroom, assuring nothing, or no-one else were sharing her presence. She said a prayer for the man, and shut his eyelids and placed his hands on his chest.

Shuffling across the upstairs landing to the other room, Atarah swung around with her magnum trained into the room. A woman laid on the floor next to a desk, her skin a creamy white, her face flawless. She may be alive, Atarah thought, holstering her magnum and rushing to the womans side.

"Are you alive, hello?" She blurted excitedly as she felt for a pulse. Feeling a couple scars, she determined that she was indeed dead. Atarah furrowed her brow, dead, but her skin, her skin is not gray. She...she doesn't look dead. This thoroughly confused Atarah, as the body was as dead and cold as the mans was. The womans tight fitting leather outfit had been partially undone, why wouldn't the culprit have taken this?

Slowly, Atarah pulled back the leather, the smell of rotten flesh entered her nostrils. Crinkeling her nose, wincing from the smell, Atarah flipped the leather clothing back. She stumbled backwards, taken aback by what she saw laying in front of her.

"What the..." She screeched.

The womans flesh was much to decomposed to be have been killed recently. Her briast partially rotted away, patches a newer skin stitched to the remainder of her own.

"A ghoul" a surprised Atarah said out loud. Atarah picked up a piece of fabric from the floor, wiping it across the ghouls cheek. Makeup, she wore makeup to conceal herself and trick that poor man.

Atarah stood up, of all the...I can't believe it. She became infuriated, kicking the ghouls body, a sudden lose of control took over. Atarah snatched up a canvas sack, and began filling it with various items. Jewelry, bottles of Scotch, clothing, she stormed downstairs filling the sack until it was almost to heavy for her to carry. She heaved the sack over her shoulder and walked out, she started to think about the man she had found upstairs.

What a good haul, he's not going to need it anymore. Her Raider past becoming apparent, why leave it just for someone else to get, I mean I need it.

As she lumbered to the diner, she started to feel guilty. That man was tricked and killed by that ghoul, what am I doing? This isn't Godly, its wrong, dead or not its bad karma. Do what's right, the towns people need supplies, you heard Celeste, most of the food and drink were destroyed, give it to them. Sitting the sack down in the middle of the street, Atarah knelt down and prayed.

Dear Heavenly Father,
Please forgive me for my sin, my greed and lose of self control. I pray that, that man rest peacefully in Your care Lord. Grant me piece with Your presence, grant me the ability to do good by You. To resist temptation, to spread the Word Lord. To help others, to be Your loyal servant. For my reward does not come on this earth, but comes from You Lord, in heaven. I pray you will wash over this town, use my skills to fulfill whatever task is set before me Lord.
In Jesus' name I pray, Amen

Atarah, feeling refreshed with the Holy Spirit, continued lugging the sack back to the diner.

Calypso - Moriarty's Saloon - late afternoon


Amelia returned with a smile of her own before turning back to Moriarty. "So when do we depart to the mission ahead?" She asked with an innocent smile.

Calypso turned, "Allistair, you are ever the gentleman." She noticed Nova walking down the stairs with a customer, "Colin, such a foul mouth, perhaps that is why you are stuck with such an wretched old [censored] for company." Calypso nodded towards Nova.

"As soon as [censored] possable." Moriarty replied to Amelia. "I want you all back in town fast. This mess needs fixing up. Allistair and I want to see a return on our investments, is there anything else?"

"I do believe we have reached a fair agreement, I will find a suitable courier once I am in town." Calypso said pulling her sunglasses back down.

"Is this all you called me here for Colin?" Joe asked.

"Of course it isn't," Moriarty snapped. "I want you to aquire something for me. Those businesses I mentioned earlier, I want a much larger cut of them, the moonshine is going on sale in the saloon soon as well as in Mr Tenpenny's fine establishment. As is fresh brahmin milk. I want control of those Joe and you're going to make it happen. You understand me don't you?"

"I understand Colin."

"You speak as though your tail is between your legs Joseph, good thing you have Amelia and Harold to assist you." She bit her lip as she ogled Harold.

"Good, then please... Get the [censored] out of here." Moriarty said scornfully.

Calypso skipped over to Harold, "Harold darling, I do not wish to wait, and there is an able bed upstairs." She slid her hands down the side of his body, "we have time, do take me upstairs and ravish me darling. Why not pleasure each other before we leave."

Calypso touched his hands with hers, attempting to coax the brute upstairs, he didn't move, "do you not find me to your liking Harold? I assure you, you will not be disappointed with my performance, I have many talents."

Tao
-In the evening, entering Grayditch-
As he approached the ruins he could see people roaming around a small metal building with a sign which read diner; he assumed that he would find someone who could direct him to the town sheriff or some other local authority. He decided as he made his way to the entrance of the diner that he would prefer to simply conclude his business with Moriarty as soon as he could. He noticed a woman standing behind the counter and quickly examined her: she looked severely unfit to survive in the wasteland and for a moment he wondered how she had managed, he then realized that she must be the proprietor of the diner establishment which meant that she could probably live a fairly comfortable life. He noticed the looks he was receiving from the patrons but didn’t mind as he was used to this reaction in settlements; mostly people kept to themselves but more than once someone had tried to rob him of his gear. He sat and gazed idly at the corrugated metal walls of the diner while considering how long he should stay; then he realized he was still wearing his ballistics mask which likely accounted for the strange looks he had been receiving. After removing his mask he made up his mind and ordered a beer. He pulled a cigarette from a compartment on his flak vest and lit it with one of the matches he kept in his duffle bag, he felt his muscles relax as he inhaled the smoke.

OOC - CC with prior permission

Bob Dobbs

House 8 – Afternoon


“Just [censored] with you, Bob.” laughed James. “Let’s go get this over with.”

“Yeah, lets.”, replied Bob. “Stay close and watch to the left. I cannot hear for [censored] out of my left ear, I need you to make sure we don’t get flanked.”

Bringing up his rifle, and scanning around him while looking through the sight, Bob cautiously climbed the stairs with James close behind him. Reaching the second floor, the found a central hallway with two doors on each side, and one on the far end.

Probably leads to the attic.

One of the two doors to their right was open, and the HUD on his Holosight told him the target was in that direction.

He is either in there or in the attic. Need to find out which.

Dobbs drew his combat knife and took off his Brown ballcap and stuck it on the tip of the blade then slowly moved it out into the open doorway. No sooner did the hat become visible inside the room than a burst of automatic weapons fire erupted through the doorway, snatching the hat off the blade and peppering the wall opposite the door.

“Go!”, said James as he leaned over Bob and blind fired into the room once the fire from inside the room had stopped so Bob could dart across the open doorway and take up position on the other side of the door.

Got him bottled up in here, but how do we get him without getting our heads blown off? We don’t have any grenades.

“Hey, commie!”, James shouted into the room derisively. “In case nobody told you, the war ended two hundred years ago….why don’t you [censored] off and go home?”

“Home?”, came a voice speaking quite good English from inside the room as a burst of fire went through the wall, forcing James to drop to his stomach to avoid being hit. “I’ll tell you why I haven’t gone home…IT’S BECAUSE I DON’T [censored] HAVE ONE!”

Another burst of fire tore through the wall above James.

“Everyone I’ve ever cared about is DEAD because of [censored] American bastards like YOU!”, the ghoul continued, emphasizing his points with shots fired at James through the wall as James desperately attempted to become one with the hardwood floor. “Our war will never end! You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our people, we’re never going to stop until all of us are dead!”

As the ghoul fired the last burst at the wall, Bob slid along the floor into the doorway. Behind a metal cabinet that had been tipped onto the floor was a ghoul, busy firing what looked like a small SMG at where he hoped James was. Unlike the others, he wore a peaked cap and had stiff epaulets on his shoulders.

An officer. Wonder why he stayed up here.

That last burst appeared to empty his weapon, he had just dropped the empty magazine and was bringing up a fresh one to reload when the ghoul spotted Bob lying in the doorway, bringing up his rifle.

“ō, gāisǐ!”, the ghoul said bitterly, switching back to Mandarin involuntarily.

Famous last words.

Bob fired a long burst into the ghoul, who spun around from the impact of the bullets and fell to the floor and lay still.

The fight over, Bob and James got up and entered the room. Bob checked the ghoul, while James investigated the smoke curling out of a metal wastebasket. Seeing that there were papers and some sort of notebook inside, he tipped it over and stamped out the flames with his feet.

Bob examined the ghoul officer, he was quite dead. Bob contemplated him wistfully.

Poor bastard. Too bad we couldn’t have talked, we both are pawns that outlived our causes. But was refusing to let go of your hatred and anger worth it?

Having put the papers out, James picked up the ghoul’s weapon and examined it.

“A Type 80”, James said with awe. “These are really rare. They’re an improved Type 17, they use a detachable 20 round magazine and can fire full auto. They were designed for 10mm so they are more accurate and hit harder…I’d still rather have a real SMG.” James placed the pistol on the upended cabinet. “If you decide to get rid of it, check with me first, will you? That’s only the third one I’ve ever seen, I’ll pay good caps for it.”

This room was full of furniture, and other items, it appears Parker and his men had moved any unwanted items on this floor into this room. There was also a radio with Chinese markings…unfortunately the ghoul had been standing in front of it when Bob shot him and it had been destroyed by the gunfire. James looked through some pre-war books stacked up on a dresser, and held one up. On the cover it said “Learning Chinese”.

“Can I have this book?”, asked James. “Also, Jessica could use this crutch I found.”

Why not? It’s not like I need it…after 20 years of sims for everything from learning Mandarin to re-fighting the Battle of Winnipeg. It did beat peeling potatoes, I must admit.

“Sure”, replied Bob. “You’re welcome to them.”

James and Bob then checked out the other rooms on the second floor. One room had two bunk beds, along with a gun cabinet and four footlockers, all empty. The other two were furnished and had one bed each. From the makeup he found in the bathroom of one of them it had been occupied by a woman. Someone had fixed the sinks, they all had running water.

Bob and James then checked the attic, while it was full of junk from the home’s pre-war occupants, there were no other Chinese to be found. Funding a hatch that led to the roof, they climbed up. Clambering around the roof, Bob found it to be fundamentally sound, if in need of repairs. Bob sat on the top of the roof, and looked around the town as he rested.

No need to look elsewhere. This place will do, even if the carriage house turns out to be a wreck. I bet there is something of interest at the bottom of that stairwell, too. I’ll have to see if I can get Brandy to do something with the bullet holes.

James spent a few minutes looking at the top of Celeste’s house next door, as if he were gauging his chances of climbing from Bob’s roof to hers. He then sat down next to Bob.

What is he doing? Let me guess….he had that robot stick it’s gun in his face too. Don't be rash...Frieda cannot keep her locked away forever.

"Now that the commies are all dead”, began James, “I wanted to talked to you about Brandy and Frieda..."

James Wilson – House 8 – Late afternoon

Bob and James then checked the attic, while it was full of junk from the home’s pre-war occupants, there were no other Chinese to be found. Funding a hatch that led to the roof, they climbed up onto the roof

whlist bob sat down in shade, James walked over to side facing Celeste house and looked down, it was a long fall…

That’s a long [censored] drop I’m not breaking my legs to give brandy the antidote, lets see what bob thinks about blackmail…

“Now that they’re all dead, I wanted to talk to you about Brandy and Frieda” James said, opening a pocket on his utility belt…

“I think I found the cure to Brandy’s addiction” James said whilst Taking out the small bottle of labelled “Jet antidote” and passed it to Bob

“It’s the Antidote, Jess made it at Fort B. I’m 100% sure how it works but after taking this Brandy will be repulsed by Jet might make her sick if she takes some though and will never take it again…”

“But that were Frieda comes in, she’s using Mirvin as a bouncer, blocking me for giving it to her because she fixed him or something… But I have some “information” on her that she may not want people around town know, I'm not going to tell you what I have but It could lead to her being driven out of town or killed...

“should I Blackmail Frieda into letting me inside brandy's house, you too if you want? Or keep it for "Rainy day" James asked…


(once James and bob had finished talking about blackmail)

I'm going to move those ghouls now , should I start gathering people for Ducans Funeral afterwards? James asked...


-----

After James had finished speaking to bob, James walked back downstairs and started moving the one dead ghouls (one at time) from Bob’s house to the end of alley way behind James houses, he then went back for the other one...

these guy need a proper burial

Mirvin. Miss Brandy's house. Afternoon.

"Well Miss Brandy, I would surmise that the scarred man reached the conclusion that he would be shot because when that message was given to me I had my shotgun aimed at his chest." Mirvin rasped as Miss Brandy leaned out of the bath and hugged Mr Ryler. "I was acting in accordance with Miss Frieda's instructions Miss Brandy. She has requested that I only allow people entry to your house with her prior consent. I must say, the scarred man seemed most peturbed by the situation. He claimed to be storing some of his belongings here."


Harold. Moriarty's Saloon, Megaton. Late Afternoon.

Calypso skipped over to Harold, "Harold darling, I do not wish to wait, and there is an able bed upstairs." She slid her hands down the side of his body, "we have time, do take me upstairs and ravish me darling. Why not pleasure each other before we leave."

The giant simply stared down at the strange woman. His expression blank and unreadable. "No." He rumbled as he continued to chew on his buffout pills.

Calypso touched his hands with hers, attempting to coax the brute upstairs, he didn't move, "do you not find me to your liking Harold? I assure you, you will not be disappointed with my performance, I have many talents."

"No." Harold repeated, pulling his hand away and looking Calypso up and down with disdain, then headed through the door behind Rennie.

"Well fancy that girl. I guess you just ain't his type." Moriarty sniggered from his stool by the bar. "Ha, look at you face. Clearly you don't hear the word no very often." Moriarty paused to chuckle to himself once more. "Maybe you should try again with him later. He's probably just in one of his moods." Moriarty continued to laugh to himself as the rest of his employees left the room, heading back to Grayditch.

"Well, now that that's over with, I really must be going too." Tenpenny groaned a little as he levered his aged body out of his seat. "Susan has a delightful new girl she is training and I hope to be the first to sample her once she is properly broken in. You should really look into aquiring yourself some new talent too old boy, Nova is starting to look a little worn out. I will have to change this one's name once she is broken in though. I mean, what kind of name is Bittercup anyway?"

Calypso - Moriarty's Saloon - late afternoon


"No." Harold repeated, pulling his hand away and looking Calypso up and down with disdain, then headed through the door behind Rennie.

Calypso curled her lip as she watched Harold walk out.

"Well fancy that girl. I guess you just ain't his type." Moriarty sniggered from his stool by the bar. "Ha, look at you face. Clearly you don't hear the word no very often."

She glared at the Irishman, "I get what I want." She snarled.

Moriarty chuckled to himself once more. "Maybe you should try again with him later. He's probably just in one of his moods." Moriarty continued to laugh.

Calypso wanted to rip Colin's throat out, but came to her senses, "moods? You have not seen my moods yet." Flashing him an evil grin as she turned for the door. Stepping outside slamming the door behind her.

"HAROLD!" Roared Calypso as Sheriff Simms walked around the corner. [censored].

"You aren't causing trouble in my town are you?" Asked Simms.

"I most certainly am not" Calypso gasped putting her hand on her chest, "Harold is hard of hearing, I was merely trying to get his attention."

"Well, I got my eyes on you" replied Simms.

"Do you like what you see?" She wiggled as she left. Trotting up next to Harold she spoke quietly, "Harold, perhaps we will be fortunate enough to run across someone to...play with, on our journey to Grayditch."

What if you bought Harold from Colin?, she opened her mouth to speak. Thinking it better to keep her idea to herself, she continued walking.

Not far from the gate was a beggar, sitting on the ground pleading for purified water. Calypso smiled, having always carried a small bottle of acid with her. Just for instances such as this, where she could still relish in the thrill of torturing another for her enjoyment inconspicuously.

"Harold, I do hope you enjoy this." As she went to the man, "here you go darling, some purified water, I have plenty to spare for such a pathetic individual as yourself."

The man thanked her and feverishly drank the acid, not smelling, or thinking about. Simply wanting to quench his thirst. The group still proceeding forward, the chokes and screams of the man made Calypso shudder with excitement. As the man burned from the inside out.

Giggling like a school girl, "wasn't that marvelous Harold?"



Brandy - Her house - afternoon


"Well Miss Brandy, I would surmise that the scarred man reached the conclusion that he would be shot because when that message was given to me I had my shotgun aimed at his chest." Mirvin rasped as Brandy hugged Ryler.

"WHAT???" Brandy said firmly

"I was acting in accordance with Miss Frieda's instructions Miss Brandy. She has requested that I only allow people entry to your house with her prior consent. I must say, the scarred man seemed most perturbed by the situation. He claimed to be storing some of his belongings here."

"Frieda?....Frieda", Brandy snatched her towel and wrapped herself up. She edged past Mirvin and Ryler in the small bathroom, still wet, she scampered down the stairs. She looked around quickly, the ran into the kitchen as she heard the refrigerator door shut. She slipped on the tile flooring and crashed into the cupboard.

"Ooooow" she rubbed her shoulder, "Frieda?" she scowled as she stood back up slowly. "Why would you tell Mirvin to shoot Bob? His things are in here, I let him stay here last night." She started to walk up to Frieda, but the look Frieda gave her made her think twice, pointing her finger, "that was wrong, I...I can't believe you would have Mirvin shoot somebody."

Brandy ran into the living room, grabbing her satchel and returned to the kitchen, she pulled out a partial inhaler and held it to her mouth.

"Are you going to shoot me now too?" Brandy put her lips on the inhaler, then ripped it away, throwing it across the kitchen tears welled up in her eyes. She stared at Frieda for a second then ran up to her room, slamming the door.

Amelia -- Moriarty's Saloon -- Late Afternoon

"You too Amelia, pick yourself out something nice and wear it the next time you visit me."

"Thank you, Mr. Tenpenny." Amelia spoke modestly, her smile hiding the firework that just went off in her head, she had a penchant for dresses. She remembered as a child, her mother handled the clothing side of the business. All manner of clothing, fancy suits to wasteland garb. But the dresses, her mother always kept the so clean, of course she was never allowed to touch them. Maybe it was because of that denial that she has a hidden delight for them.

Nova descended the stairs with a client, who suddenly turned sheepish when he noticed the small business get together. The sight of Nova always peeved her, had Amelia not been as smart as she was, someone else would be sitting in her space right now and she'd be the one walking down those stairs. Moriarty clocked onto her the first moment she walked into Megaton, all sweet talk and acting the gentleman. She had to hand it to him however, he was patience bastard. Not like he didn't try on more than one occasion to charm Amelia into bed, of course it never happened. But he waited for her to succumb. But it must of hit him like a train when he found out the pretty innocent girl with the raven hair and deep brown eyes, who giggled at every joke, listened to every story and played the fool was actually cheating him and had evidence against him.

That night when he offered her a job was truly surprising, of course had he had killed her Simms would of had that evidence against Moriarty to put a bullet in that head of his. Sometimes she wondered if there was another motivation behind employing her, Dakota always said that she was a valuable weapon. And she doubted that Moriarty was seeking to betray her. He trusted her too much, Amelia knew much more about the business than she did in the past. And honestly, Moriarty isn't smart enough to spin a web that complicated in order to backstab her after having worked for him all these years. If he was going to do something, he would had done it already.

She watched the display by Calypso has she attempted to entice Harold. She closed her eyes and listen to her flirty attempt to get Harold to bed. It was like every bad holotape porm, with the exception that the man was refusing. "Well fancy that girl. I guess you just ain't his type. Ha, look at you face. Clearly you don't hear the word no very often." As Harold walked out leaving her behind. "I get what I want." She snarled. And if looks could kill... "Maybe you should try again with him later. He's probably just in one of his moods." This was like poking a sleeping Deathclaw, Amelia was confident that if the female species had the ability to shoot laser beams out their eyes, it'll be discovered here.

"Moods? You have not seen my moods yet." She stormed out leaving Amelia, Tenpenny and Moriaty alone.

"Oh dear, someone doesn't take rejection too kindly. I dread to think what she's done to past lovers if they've left her." She jumped off the bar and heading towards the exit, "Would you like me to keep a eye on this one Mr. Moriarty?" She asked as she prepared to leave.

Moriaty nodded, "Aye. It's a good idea, you keep those eyes on both Joe and Calypso."

Amelia nodded. "Mr. Moriaty, Mr. Tenpenny." Amelia left the Saloon. She caught Joe resting against the railing overlooking Megaton. "So, what is this hamlet of Grayditch like?"

Harold. Outside Megaton. Late afternoon.

Calypso skipped over to the brute once more giggling like a school girl, "Wasn't that marvelous Harold?"

Harold silently turned back and looked at the dieing beggar. The man was laying in a pethetic heap, feebly clawing at his smouldering throat. His screams replaced by a gurgling, keening whine. A small crowd had begun to gather around the man, most seemed to be scratching their heads in confusion, but if any of them had seen Calypso hand over the bottle then that could draw attention.

It was a pointless and unnesessary risk. There was no challenge in it. No hunt, no thrill of battle and it was over far, far to quickly. The screams dieing out before they had really started. Though Harold did did have to admit to himself that the guy's face had been funny when he had realised what was happening. That moment of clarity and stark terror the moment before the light went out of his eyes. Yes it was pretty amusing.

The brute chuckled quietly and turned away from Calypso. "That was funny, but it wasn't fun." He rumbled as he began to walk away once more. "There was no sport in it. Draw attention to us again and I'll show you marvelous."

Joe Rennie. Outside Moriarty's Saloon. Megaton. Late afternoon.

Amelia caught Joe resting against the railing overlooking Megaton. "So, what is this hamlet of Grayditch like?"

"Hamlet's being kind to it Amelia," The thief replied, looking out across the ramshackle town. "It probably makes this dive here look good. But it's got the potential to be a nice little earner. Anyway. Aren't you more interested in where you're going to find Harlen? How'd you end up with that job anyway? I never had you down as a hired killer, that happen while you were down at Tenpenny's?"

Amelia -- Megaton, Outside of Moriarty's Saloon -- Late Afternoon

"Aren't you more interested in where you're going to find Harlen?"

"Oh, don't worry about him, I've got enough loyal dogs right now to latch onto the scent. But I'm much more curious about Grayditch. I hear that the de facto leader over there is Moriarty's daughter. His daughter. Now that is a curiosity."

Amelia joined Joe, leaning against the railing looking down upon Megaton. Something of a commotion going on below by the small crowd that gathered.

"How'd you end up with that job anyway? I never had you down as a hired killer, that happen while you were down at Tenpenny's?" She let out a soft chuckle, a small smile creeping on her face. "Well, this wouldn't be the first time I've had the task to deal with some troublemaker." She approached Joe slowly, leaning in close, almost whispering. "And long before I met Tenpenny or Moriarty."

FRIEDA ~~ Brandy's House ~~ Mid-afternoon

Soon after Frieda had asked Mirvin to keep visitors away, Bob came to the door. He sounded cranky. Frieda smirked to herself as she picked her way through Brandy's kitchen, realizing she'd simply assumed the younger woman even had bottles of water in her fridge.

Brandy's fridge had bottles of what Frieda assumed was moonshine, and she frowned, thinking about how generous Brandy had been with the substance towards Pawnee. She was about to push the bottles aside in her search for water when she heard James at the door as well.

“...want to do, and Frieda works for the Enclave, the bad people on the radio that go around shooting everyone they see but don’t tell anybody I told you that okay, I don’t have enough evidence yet… Oh tell Brandy I said hello." It sounded, then, that James left the house, and the door shut behind him.

'The bad people on the radio?' That's Three Dog and the [censored] dramas he plays. I've never heard the Enclave on the radio... Frieda frowned and exhaled. Still, that could be uncomfortable for me, if he starts talking. It's bad enough my old house is painted...I suppose people were going to start asking questions eventually. She crouched and began clearing out a cupboard, hoping beyond hope there was some water -- even a little irradiated water -- in the unused kitchen. Considering Brandy's condition, a little bit of irradiated water is would be the least of her problems at the moment.

She could hear Mirvin go up the stairs and begin to talk to Brandy. Frieda was glad that Brandy and the robot seemed to get along well. There were a couple of very dusty bottles of water in the back of the cupboard. She retrieved them, feeling successful, and crossed the kitchen. She had just placed the bottles into the fridge and shut the door when Brandy stormed in wearing nothing but a towel and her hair dripping wet. Frieda had turned in time to watch Brandy slip and fly into the very same cupboard she'd just closed.

"Ooooow" she rubbed her shoulder, "Frieda?" she scowled as she stood back up slowly. "Why would you tell Mirvin to shoot Bob? His things are in here, I let him stay here last night."

She started to approach Frieda, looking upset and a little like a wet dog, her hair dripping all over the floor. Frieda frowned.

"I was trying to help you, to give you a break. I thought you wanted some peace to relax and start working through the withdrawl. All I did was ask Mirvin to tell people to get lost, I swear." Mirvin definitely has a mind of his own, if he was threatening to shoot intruders...

Brandy rudely pointed a finger towards Frieda. "That was wrong, I...I can't believe you would have Mirvin shoot somebody."

"Brandy," Frieda began, shaking her head, "I told you, I just asked Mirvin to turn people away, I didn't tell him to shoot anyone, I'm being honest!"

Brandy ran into the living room and nearly immediately returned to the kitchen, clutching the bag she'd handed Frieda earlier. Brandy pulled out an inhaler and held it to her mouth. "Are you going to shoot me now too?" Her voice was shrill and her eyes wide, goading Frieda. The blonde was immediately irritated. Brandy put her lips on the inhaler, then ripped it away, throwing it across the kitchen towards Frieda's head.

Frieda reflexively flicked her head out of the way. The inhaler hit the wall behind her and clattered onto the floor. "Brandy, I don't have the patience for some withdrawl-fueled temper tantrum. I'm trying to help you when you know full well by all rights I probably shouldn't care about your problems."

Brandy's lips quivered as she stared at Frieda for a second then turned and ran. Frieda heard Brandy thump quickly up the stairs and eventually slam a door.

For the love of God! She balled her hands into fists and stomped to the base of the stairs. It had suddenly all become too much. She helped Pawnee -- though, for obvious reasons -- and first thing he did in thanks was sleep with Brandy and then tell her his old girlfriend is still alive and make it clear he still had all the strong feelings he'd let on about her. She went way out of her way to help Brandy -- because she seemed like she needed the guidance, and the girl was so innocent as to get herself addicted to Jet -- way out of her way, and her kindness was again repaid with harsh words and defeat.

"You know what, Brandy? You wanna know something?" Anger flared in her for the second time that day and she didn't care to blunt it one bit. "Not sure if that pretty little head of yours noticed but it's a [censored] WASTELAND out there!" she yelled up the stairs. "There aren't many people who will ever try to help you for the sake of helping you. There definitely aren't enough out there who will just take you however you are." She thought of Pawnee and how he'd never judged her for being Enclave, and it hurt. Her stomach felt like it'd been kicked. She pressed on.

"Do whatever you want. [censored] whoever you want, you know what, I don't care. Go ahead and trust Bob, it's not like he's a perfect [censored] stranger who suddenly wants to help you. Maybe he's trying to keep you addicted! Do you even know one little thing about him?" The irony of the fact that Brandy barely knew Frieda didn't register. "I'm out of here. Mirvin! Cancel my previous directive. Carry on as normal."

Frieda stomped back through the house and kicked Brandy's back door open. She shuddered when she realized she had nowhere she felt she could go. Her house was destroyed. Pawnee didn't want to see her. She didn't care to go to the diner and as much as she felt she should attend Duncan's funeral, with Brandy and Bob et al in attendance, she couldn't show her face there either. She'd pay her respects later.

She did the only thing that had ever felt right. She ran. Frieda made her way past the makeshift Brahmin pen, up the south western ramp, and out of town.

Bob Dobbs

House 8 - Afternoon

“Now that they’re all dead, I wanted to talk to you about Brandy and Frieda” James said, as he opened a pocket on his utility belt and produced a small bottle labeled 'Jet Antidote', which he handed to Bob. "I think I have found the cure to Brandy’s addiction.”.

“It’s the Antidote, Jess made it at Fort B. I’m not 100% sure how it works but after taking this Brandy will be repulsed by Jet might make her sick if she takes some though and will never take it again…”

Bob looked at the bottle.

Is there a antidote to Jet addiction? I'm no doctor, but there certainly could be. I would certainly like a second opinion before using this stuff....and I can only imagine what Frieda might do if James tried giving Brandy a unproven med.

"It certainly sounds like a option worth exploring", said Bob as he handed the bottle back to James. "But I recommend you have Jessica talk to Ryler about this before anything else is done. I mean no disrespect to Jessica, but like me, she is new to this town. People here don't know her qualifications. Ryler is the town doctor and is trusted by everyone. If he approves of it then everyone else should fall into line and then perhaps they will support approaching Brandy about taking it. "

“But that were Frieda comes in,", said James. "She’s using Mirvin as a bouncer, blocking me from giving it to her because she fixed him or something."

"Frieda set the robot on sentry mode because of me", replied Bob. "I approached her about Brandy, and it seems to have made her suspicious. Never mind I was alone with her out of town most of the morning getting wood for Duncan's coffin. But this is just what I mean. She isn't going to believe me, and she probably won't believe Jessica....but if Ryler approves she'll listen to that. Frieda is her closest friend here, her support is vital to getting and keeping Brandy off that crap."

"But I have some “information” on her that she may not want people around town to know."

"Like what?"

"I'm not going to tell you what I have, but It could lead to her being driven out of town or killed.", replied James. “Should I Blackmail Frieda into letting me inside Brandy's house, you too if you want...or keep it for a 'Rainy day'?".

"How can I answer that, when I don't know what you're talking about?", said Bob firmly. "Are you trying to tell me she is a danger to this town? If she is, and you don't speak up, innocent lives may be lost. She's no Raider, and Talon Company doesn't use women for operatives. Unless she's a slaver or some sort of cannibal freak, I cannot imagine what she could have done that will turn the town against her if they find out. And whatever it is you think she's done....what proof do you have?"

"Listen, James.", continued Bob. "She may have a past. Most everyone out here does. But trying to hold it over her head is dangerous...and not just to you. And what if you're wrong? If you want my advice, then you need to show me your hand. Without knowing how strong a case you have, all I can advise you to do is leave her alone."

OOC: not a big deal but “might make her sick if she takes some though” is James thoughs (he didn’t say it to bob as he didn’t want Bob to know it could make her ill)

OOCMK2: also just to point “Jet antidote” out it’s not a unproven med but as relatively new on the east coast, so not many people know about, David (or anyone from the west coast) should know of it and it’s affect…

James Wilson – house 8 – afternoon

How can I answer that, when I don't know what you're talking about?", said Bob firmly. "Are you trying to tell me she is a danger to this town? If she is, and you don't speak up, innocent lives may be lost. She's no Raider, and Talon Company doesn't use women for operatives. Unless she's a slaver or some sort of cannibal freak, I cannot imagine what she could have done that will turn the town against her if they find out. And whatever it is you think she's done....what proof do you have?"

“No she part of a more "sinster" Organisation the E…” but was cut of by Bob talking…

"Listen, James.", continued Bob. "She may have a past. Most everyone out here does. But trying to hold it over her head is dangerous...and not just to you. And what if you're wrong? If you want my advice, then you need to show me your hand. Without knowing how strong a case you have, all I can advise you to do is leave her alone."

He’s right I need to get more evidence first….

“Look I think she part of enclave and on a mission here, I found a letter but most of was unreadable and you should check out her house, why would Raider put that on door? " James said whilst point to Frieda house

“But after speaking to you I think I need more proof before I do anything so… let just forget about it for now, once I find more evidence I’ll come back to you okay”

"I’m going to start moving those Ghouls now afterwards I gotta start getting ready for Duncan’s Funeral…" James said before climbing down the ladder...


5-15 minutes later – the alleyway behind James/ Brandy’s houses

James had moved & stripped the chinese ghouls from Bob's house, when he heard a door being kicked down. James turned around to see Frieda had kicked Brandy’s backdoor and was now running out of town

Were is she going?

Picking up the Chinese uniforms, James walked inside the Grayditch arm and put the Chinese outfits, spare hat, weapons, book and crutch on table.

" Jessica, Sue, Duncan’s Funeral is in an hour are going to it?" James called out...

Brandy - her house - mid afternoon


Brandy threw herself on the pile of clothes she had laid on earlier, angry at herself for letting things get this out of hand. She heard Frieda yell up the stairs.

"You know what, Brandy? You wanna know something?" Frieda said furiously, "Not sure if that pretty little head of yours noticed but it's a [censored] WASTELAND out there. There aren't many people who will ever try to help you for the sake of helping you. There definitely aren't enough out there who will just take you however you are." Frieda paused, tears flowed from Brandy's eyes. She had upset Frieda, her friend, once more.

Frieda continued yelling up the stairs, "Do whatever you want. [censored] whoever you want, you know what, I don't care. Go ahead and trust Bob, it's not like he's a perfect [censored] stranger who suddenly wants to help you. Maybe he's trying to keep you addicted! Do you even know one little thing about him? I'm out of here. Mirvin! Cancel my previous directive. Carry on as normal."

Brandy could hear Frieda stomp through the house, then a loud noise as Frieda kicked open her back door.

"Frieda, WAIT!" Brandy yelled swinging open her bedroom door. No answer, just Mirvin's blank robotic face and Ryler's look of confusion. Brandy, now panicked, grabbed whatever clothes she saw. Pulling a dirty blue tee shirt and a holy pair of blue jeans on, she slid on her boots and ran out of her room. Slinging her, empty, assault rifle over her good shoulder. Also picking up Duncan's, empty, three fifty seven, she plucked her last jet from her bag. The front door was still closed, turning around, she saw her back door was wide open.

Brandy rushed out, she had no idea where to begin to look. She ran to Frieda's house, it didn't look as though anyone had been there since the Raider attack. Brandy ran down the alley and into Pawnee's, she didn't care at this point, all she wanted was to find Frieda.

"Is Frieda here?" She blurted out, winded from the commotion. Pawnee's facial expression was enough of an answer and she ran back outside. She ran to the end of the block, able to see the park and Duncan's tent. Pressing her back to the wall, she felt nauseous and dizzy. She knelt down and vomited, coming down from the Jet, and all the emotions were too much. She held the her inhaler to her mouth, inhaling every last bit from the container.

Passing Duncan's tent, she put her assault rifle inside, she could run faster without it. Brandy ran out of town yelling for Frieda. Finally, after running so much, she was exhausted. The Jet couldn't even cure her legs, they felt like rubber as she slowed to a walk. Not far ahead was the safehouse, she decided to go there and take a break. Maybe, just maybe, Frieda would be in there.

The house was as empty as she had left it after retrieving her and Frieda's things. Brandy sat down on the dirty old couch, leaning her head back staring at the ceiling.

You should have kept your mouth shut, you did it again. Are you ever going to learn? You talk to much, and handle situations completely opposite of the way they should be handled. She brow beat herself, and just sank deeper into the couch wallowing in her own self pity. Recalling all the memories of the foolish things she had done, and her brainless reactions she had done.



Calypso - Wasteland - late afternoon


Harold turned his large back to Calypso, insulting her, she curled her lip as she strapped her Deathclaw gauntlet on her left arm.

"That was funny, but it wasn't fun." Harold rumbled, "There was no sport in it. Draw attention to us again and I'll show you marvelous."

Calypso approached Harold, then circled around in front of him, "Do NOT turn your back on me and walk away." She hissed, pointing her Deathclaw finger at him.

"You had your chance to show me marvelous at Moriarty's. I was simply bored, I did that strictly for amusemant Harold." Her nostrils flared as she spoke, "attention? I did no such thing, those imbeciles haven't the slightest clue what happened. For all they know, that decrepit old man finally succumbed to radiation poisoning. Now he resides in the Ten Courts of Hell, being punished for his sins, tortured far worse than anything we could do on this God forsaken planet. As the Yama king is able to do over and over, while we only get their one single life here on earth."

"I have replicated many of The Courts punishments. Do stop Harold, I am growing tired of walking backwards." Calypso asked, the brute pressed onward. Calypso drew her short sword and brandished it at Harolds chest, "I said STOP! If it is sport you seek, then look no further my love." Using her gauntlet to push her sunglasses to the top of her, she readied her stance, "Toushay"

Harold. Wasteland. Late afternoon.

The brute furrowed his forehead as he stared at the smaller woman in disbelief. Had he heard her right? Had she just really challenged him to a fight? Or had he been having another of his blackouts? Calypso stood facing him, a deathclaw gauntlet strapped to her hand. She certainly looked serious about fighting him, using one of the sharp claws of the gauntlet Calypso pushed her sunglasses up untill they rested on top of her head. She altered her stance, readying herself for an attack. "Toushay." The cannibal spat at him as she flourished her sword.

Harold grinned as he looked the woman up and down. This was unexpected. But cetainly not unwelcome. His last few kills had been disappointing, the bounty hunter a simple execution, while Rusty's death had been far too swift. But this woman was armed and ready for him, she actually wanted to fight. Mr Moriarty would be angry that one of his employees had been killed, but he could always say that she started it. Slowly, the brute turned his massive head to one side, then the other, survaying their surroundings. Nobody was in sight, even Rennie and Amelia seemed to have fallen behind. Satisfied that there was no risk of their fight drawing attention, the giant once more faced Calypso.

Wordlessly Harold nodded before unholstering his sawn-off. He tossed the firearm into a small pile of rubble off to his left, then unslung the assault rifle from his back, this gun joining the other. Silently Harold bought his fists up in a simple boxing guard and began to slowly circle left. The cannibal mirrored his movements, also circling, maintaining the distance between them. Moving surprisingly fast for his size Harold lunged foward, rappidly closing the distance between the two of them. Rather than retreat, as Harold had expected, Calypso nimbly stepped forward and thrust her blade at the brute's chest. The blade squealed as it scarred a line across the briastplate of Harold's combat armour, had he not been wearing the armour, the blade would almost certainly have hit his heart.

Calypso was now within his reach however. He raised his arm, knocking aside another blow from the deathclaw gauntlet as he did so, the sharp claws drawing blood as they scraqed across his forearm, then balled his fist and swung it directly at the cannibals head. The woman was incredibly fast though and ducked fast enough that his huge hand only grazed the top of her head, throwing her balance off and sending the sunglasses spinning through the air. The giant made the most of this advantage, his hand shooting out to grab Calypso by the throat. He squezed tightly as he used his other hand to grab her waistband and heaved her into the air. He took a step forward then swung the woman downwards again, intending to impale her on a fence post.

Calypso - Wasteland - late afternoon


Wordlessly Harold nodded before unholstering his sawn-off. He tossed the firearm into a small pile of rubble off to his left, then unslung the assault rifle from his back, this gun joining the other. Silently Harold bought his fists up in a simple boxing guard and began to slowly circle left. Calypso smirked as Harold began to circle to his left, she followed suit, keeping her distance. Harold lunged forward, much quicker than she expected. Calypso thrust her blade at his chest, the blade screeched as it scarred his briastplate. Harold raised his arm as Calypso swung her gauntlet, blocking the blow, but she drew first blood. He swung as if to take her head off, she quickly ducked, Harold grazing the top her head. Calypso's glasses went flying, she stumbled, his hand shot out grasping her throat. Harold grabbed her waistband thrusting her up in the air. Noticing a fence post, surely his intent was to impale her.

Using her gauntlet to claw the hand clenching her throat, she quickly flipped her sword, swinging down the butt of the handle into his Adam's apple causing him to gasp briefly letting her go. She tried to twist out of the way, but the fence post caught her right shoulder, tearing her leather cutting her skin. Regaining her balance with the agility of a cat, Harold lunged forward once more. Calypso spun landing a firm kick to the brute's throat once more. She thrust her sword forward, going for his arm, Harold side stepped grabbing her hair. Yanking her head back, Harold threw a hammer fist to the side of her jaw, she returned with an overhand left. Her claws raking across his forehead as she kicked him in the leg just above the back of his knee with her spiked boot. Jumping back to put some real estate between them, she turned her head spitting out a tooth, flashing a bloody sinister grin tilting her head to the side cracking her neck. As she was taught to never show fear, pain, or mercy, she held a poker face while screaming on the inside.

Calypso sprung forward, faking a low shot, as Harold instinctively went down to block. Calypso put both hands on the back of his head to deliver a hard knee. Harold grabbed throwing her on the ground. Calypso shot up, Harold kicked her in the stomach, doubling her over he went for a knee of his own. Narrowly avoiding the large knee, Calypso stumbled back. She swung her sword with all her might, twisting it with her hand, delivering a hard shot with the broad side. Her ribs were killing her, her jaw ached, her throat raw, she clenched her teeth to hide the pain. Calypso threw her short sword at him, Harold just ducking as it whizzed by his head. She reached back and unsheathed her Shiskebob, hitting the igniter and attacked once more.