OOC:!!!! GO CALYSPO KICK HAROLDS ASS !!!! :toughninja:

---

Jessica & sue – The grayditch arms – late afternoon

Shortly after James had left Jessica, (with Sue help) had gone downstairs and had relaxing shower before getting dressed in her old vault-lab outfit that Sue had kept and was not sitting on Sue’s bed eating the food James had got her…

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

“Who’s Duncan” Jessica ask sue

He was a farmer but was killed in Raider attack; James said he saved Celeste or something; those are his Braham outside his… Sue replied using Hand signals

“Oh I guess we better go then it might be good chance to speak to others in town and see this Brandy James is so interested in” Jessica giggled but then called out “ Yes we are but I’m going to help me walk their my leg still hurts”

James entered room carrying a crutch, a small red book and an Ushanka and was wearing another one “ Nín hǎo jié xi kǎ hé sū” he called out

“Huh? Were did you get those cute hats and are you speaking Chinese?” Jessica replied with a confused but interested look on her face.

“Bobs house, were was Chinese ghouls hiding inside, had bunch of Chinese stuff including this book on learning Chinese, these hats and this crutch for your leg” James said giving Jessica the hat and the crutch

“I’m going to get changed now, then we go to dinner and meet the people of the town” James chuckled as Jessica put on the Ushanka.

--
After James changed into a http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CRg-aSD0QK4/TL9_tidD0lI/AAAAAAAAALw/S7V_elLPqPU/s1600/black+suit+with+black+tie.jpg (but kept the Ushanka on), swang the Scabbard on his back (with Grahams sword inside) and reloaded his 44. Everyone left the Grayditch Arms, slowy they walked into the diner and up to counter.

James opened the Chinese book and spoke to Celeste/J.T “Nín hǎo sāi lái sī tè what time does Duncan’s Funeral going to start? J.T do you need any help lifting the coffin?” James asked..

whilst Jessica looked around the dinner and people inside, waving at guy with a guitar who James called J.T

---
OOC: Chinese Translation

Nín hǎo jié xi kǎ hé sū”- hello Jessica and Sue
Nín hǎo sāi lái sī tè- Hello Celeste

Harold. Wasteland. Late Afternoon.

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.
As she raised the flaming blade, the brute stepped forward, blocking the blow then bringing his huge arm down and trapping her arm against his side. He grunted, gritting his teeth against the flare of pain as the flames burned the flesh of his back. Once more he grasped the woman by the throat, blood flowing from the back of his hand and running down her chest. With a roar, Harold lifted the woman from her feet and flung her backwards away from him, to land in a heap on her back.

Harold was grinning like a maniac as he stooped and picked up the discarded shortsword. This was exhilarating. The cannibal had not only managed to avoid death on the fence post, she had actually managed to hurt him. Blood flowed freely from his hand, his forearm and his scalp. It had been a very long time since Harold had felt challenged in a fight, his throat was raw from being hit and kicked. He looked down at the sword, clutched in his massive hand it looked like a child's toy, but he wasn't going to try to block the shishkebab with his bare arms. Calypso had picked herself up from the ground and rushed him again, Harold slowly gave ground, doing his best to block the woman's strikes with his single blade. She was his superior when it came to fighting with blades however and Calypso managed to open several more cuts on his massive arms.

When he spotted an opening Harold stepped forward and lashed out, his fist catching Calypso on her cheekbone and splashing his blood across her face. Calypso reeled away, the blow momentarily stunning her. The giant's eyes were wild as he raised the shortsword above his head, he began to bring the blade down toward Calypso's neck, but when she bought her own blade up to block the blow Harold kneed her in the stomach, winding her and dropping her to the ground. As she fell Calypso lashed out, the gauntlet's talons scoring across the back of Harold's thigh. The brute turned to strike again, but his leg gave out and he crashed to the ground, landing on Calypso and pinning her in place.

Bob Dobbs

House 8 - Afternoon


“Look, I think she is part of the Enclave and on a mission here. I found a letter but most of it was unreadable”, said James. “And you should check out her house!”, James exclaimed while pointing at a house on the next block over. “Why would a Raider put that on her door?"

Mission? Letter? Are you huffing Jet too? The Enclave is finished. Done. There is no one left to assign missions, much less carry them out. But that’s unfair…how could James know that? But how could Frieda have survived this long if she was so careless?

Bob looked where he was pointing. At the end of the next block was a house. Flipping in the magnifier on the holosight and bringing up the rifle, he could clearly see “GOD WILL PUNISH THE ENCLAVE” painted on the door from where he was. He lowered the rifle and flipped the magnifier to the side again.

“That is a very good question, James.”, said Bob. “I’ve seen her boots and plasma pistol….but she could have purchased them or looted them from a corpse. Perhaps they were watching the town like our Chinese friends here and drew their conclusion from that. But you said you found a letter, can I see it?”

“After speaking to you I think I need more proof before I do anything.”, replied James. So, let’s just forget about it for now, once I find more evidence I’ll come back to you, okay?”

Good boy. I need time to look into this myself. And if James is right, I need to decide what I’m going to do about it. She’s being unbelievably careless…it’s like she has no idea what Eden and the Colonel had us doing out here. Is she worth sticking my neck out for?

“Sure”, said Bob. “Accusing her of being a Enclave spy will probably get her killed. You want to be absolutely sure she isn’t innocent first.”

"I’m going to start moving those Ghouls now.”, James said as he began to climb down the ladder. “Afterwards, I gotta start getting ready for Duncan’s Funeral.”

“Ok. Leave your two in front of the house after you get what you want off them, after the funeral we’ll move all four of them out of here…I’m going to sit here for a minute.”

Bob sat alone on the roof and watched the townspeople go about their business.

Too bad this house doesn’t have a flat roof…I could have set up a grill and used it as a patio, nice view from up here.
Bob heard a bang from down the alley, as if a door were thrown open. About a minute later, he could see Frieda running down the street then left along the road that led out of town to the SW.

Looks like a good time to check out her house. I’m sure she was pawing through my stuff anyway. If there is something incriminating, she’d rather I find it than James…whether she knows or believes it or not.

Bob got up and climbed down into the attic then proceeded to the second floor. Taking his flashlight from the tool bag, he unslung the tool-bag and set it on top of the cabinet next to the pistol James called a Type 80. He then reloaded his revolver and loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle. Checking the dead officer, he found a key ring and a small notebook in the pocket of his jumpsuit and pocketed them. Unclipping the wooden shoulder-stock holster and magazine pouch from the ghoul’s Sam Browne belt, he picked up the pistol and put it in, then attached it to his own pistol belt, sliding it out of the way. Picking up the empty magazine, he stuck it in a pants pocket and walked downstairs.

Leaving the house, he saw to of the ghouls stripped to their underwear and lying in a pile in front of the house. James was nearly at his own front door. Bob walked down the alley towards the house James pointed out. The local map from his Hand Comp confirmed it as Frieda’s from the map. Noticing the recorder was running, he shut it off.

Why did I have that on? Oh, right, wanted to take notes while inspecting the house. Too bad I never got the chance to do much inspecting. May as well get rid of it, waste of memory.

Deleting the audio file, he pocketed the Hand Comp as he crossed the street. The front door was wide open. Bob rapped on the door quietly, paused for a second, then walked in. The house had been completely trashed. Graffiti was everywhere, slogans like “GO TO HELL” and “GOD HAS JUDGED THE ENCLAVE”. Bob climbed the stairs and checked the bedrooms. One of them looked like a grenade had been chucked inside, even the floor was blown out. The other was intact, though every piece of furniture had been systematically smashed. Bob idly let the bedroom door closed as he looked around. Spotting several burnt pieces of paper, Bob picked up one. It appeared to be part of a page from a maintenance manual for a Vertibird, but about 3/4ths of it had burned up so it was hard to tell exactly what it was. The others were notes and what appeared to be pages of a log book. From what of it he could still read, it was part of the log of a checkpoint out in the Wasteland somewhere….routine stuff. Bob folded the papers up and stuck them in a coat pocket, then turned to leave the room, and then he saw it.

On the inside of the bedroom door, was painted “YOUR BOYFRIEND IS IN HELL, B****!”. Nailed to the middle of the door was a Enclave ID card. Using his combat knife, Bob pried out the nail and examined the card, watching the memory plastic do it’s thing…the nail hole slowly closed up and disappeared. A familiar face looked up blankly at him, in his grey Enclave officer’s uniform.

Lieutenant King…so they got you, too.

He knew the man…. socially…Site R was a small place, after all. David…he never would have dared to call him that when he was alive…was in the Military Police Battalion. Most likely he got sent to command one of the innumerable checkpoints Eden insisted on setting up when they made their play to “reclaim the Capitol of our Great Nation”. And no doubt the Vault Kid, or the Brotherhood, or the Outcasts, or the Raiders, Regulators, or maybe even Talon Company got him, like they did so many of his comrades. The Brotherhood would have kept the card if they had captured him alive...there is a chip inside with the owner's service record. As the Brotherhood was keen on finding people involved in the “Genetic Compliance Program” of Eden’s…there had actually been some trials of those who had been too enthusiastic about their “work”.

She just scavved his boots and pistol off his corpse, along with some papers. Should have figured. Something is off, though...cannot remember what. Maybe it will come to me later.

Bob pocketed the ID card and then reached for the knob. It was then he heard movement downstairs. Someone had entered and climbed partway up the stairs then stopped.

He then heard what sounded like a woman’s sigh then whoever it was clambered down the stairs and out the door again. Bob waited a minute then stepped out and moved quietly down the stairs. Cautiously looking outside, he could see Brandy at the end of the street, leaning against the house at the end of the block, slung across her back was her Assault Rifle. She dropped something and scampered off.

What is she doing? I’d better find out.

Bob walked briskly to where Brandy had been, now wanting to get too far behind but not get too close either. Reaching the spot, he found a empty Jet inhaler and a puddle of vomit.

DAMN IT! Enough is enough. I have to do something before she puts herself in a early grave. If Frieda won’t help, to hell with her.

Bob then turned the corner to see Brandy…now without her rifle…leaving town. She was trying to run, but wasn’t moving very fast. Moving so as to keep her in sight, Bob passed by Duncan’s tent and looked inside. Sure enough, the rifle had been dropped on his bedroll inside. Leaving it there, he followed Brandy. She was not looking behind her, or even around, so he stayed behind her about 20-30 yards. She didn’t make it very far out of town, after a bit she headed for a small shack. Once she reached it, she went inside. Bringing up the rifle, Bob did a sweep of the area, finger off the trigger. Aside from the single green mark inside the building…Brandy…no one else was in the immediate area.

I cannot leave her out here, she’s a mess. I’m going to talk to her and see if I cannot get her to come back to town. And her problems cannot be allowed to fester any longer.

Bob walked up to the door and knocked.

“Brandy, it’s me…Bob.”, Bob said. “I’m coming in.”

Bob then opened the door. Inside, Brandy was sitting forlornly on a dilapidated old couch staring at the ceiling. She looked decidedly ill, and completely miserable. Bob sat down on the couch next to her.

“Sweet Pea”, said Bob gently. “Duncan’s funeral is in about 40 minutes. Come back to town with me, and I’ll help you get ready. And after it’s over, we can talk.”. Bob then shifted to face her.

“Or, if you like”, Bob continued, “We can talk now. But I’m not leaving you out here alone like this, it just wouldn’t be right.”

Cole Anders
Potomac River - Evening


"Tell me, Mr. Anders, did you ever expect it to end like this?" Mr. Burke asked, eying Cole from the other side of the bridge as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Killed by your own employer.. What a way to go, hmm?" He placed a single cigarette into his mouth and lit it, "Mr. Burke.." Cole began to say, but was quickly cut off. "None of your words can save you now, Mr. Anders," Burke said, "Accept your fate and let death carry your pitiful soul to the afterlife,"

Burke flicked his cigarette into the river and pulled his pistol, taking a few moments to look it over. "Its a shame, really, I had such high hopes for you," He said, pressing his sights on Cole. "Don't try to justify your actions, Mr. Burke, and act as if your better then me," Cole said, removing his glasses, "You and I both know your nothing more then a disgusting weasel with a elegant suit,"

Burke smirked at his pathetic attempts to bring himself dignity. "The same could be said about you, boy. But the difference between me and you, Mr. Anders," Burke said, procceeding to fire three shots into Cole's chest. Cole stood still, unable to speak, and stared down at his wounds. He almost immediately lost his balance, stumbled backwards, and fell from the ledge of the bridge into the river. Burke holstered his pistol and began walking away. "Is that I get the job done right,"


- Two Weeks Later -

Cole slowly opened his eyes to a strange environment. He laid alone on a small mattress on the floor of a pre-war house, shirtless, with bandages wrapped all around his chest. "Where am I.." He thought, taking in his surroundings. The interior of the house consisted of a small, broken TV stand, a few cabinets and chairs, and a rug spread out across the floor. From the corner of his eye, he caught glance of a women in the kitchen, preparing a meal. She noticed him as well and quickly ran to his side, bending down to assist him.

"You have got to be the luckiest man I've ever met," She said, helping him sit up. He looked the women over, taking in her features. She stood at about 5'7, small in frame compared to Cole, with short, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. "Wha-what, h-happened?" He asked, struggling to speak. "I found your body beached by my house and came to see if you we're still breathing. Thought you were dead for a few seconds.. When I felt your heart-beat, I dragged you into my house and treated you the best I could," She replied. "Never thought you would make it though.. Guess I'm a better doctor then I thought," She chuckled a little, but Cole remained silent. "Thank you," He said, though he didn't really mean it. "Di-Did you find any of my stuff on-shore?" He asked, looking around. "I found a hat and a pair glasses, if those are yours," She replied. He nodded in response.

"Mr. Burke.. If he found out I was alive," He thought, imagining what punishments Burke would have in store if he ever found him. "I need to get out of here.. Get as far away as possible.." Cole motioned for the women and she assisted him as he stood up. "Your stuff is in on the cabinet over there. I also took the liberty of sewing up your suit," She nudged her head in the direction of the cabinet and walked back into the kitchen. Cole slowly but surely walked towards the nearby cabinet. It took a while, but he was able to put his suit back on. He checked the hidden compartment in the suits interior for his combat knife. "Still there.." He sighed with relief, and reached for his hat and glasses. As Cole placed the hat atop his head, he noticed a note that it had covered up. Intrigued, he picked up the note and read it over...


LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE CAPITAL WASTELAND.

I, Colin Moriarty, am pleased to announce that I have recently acquired the abandoned settlement of Greyditch.
There are several exciting opportunities for skilled workers within this new community.
We need builders, masons, plumbers, carpenters and other tradesmen to rebuild the town.
There will also be positions for cooks, farm hands and shopkeepers.
In return for work you will receive food and accommodation, at greatly reduced cost.
If you are interested then please come to see me at my bar in Megaton, or report directly to the welcoming committee in Grayditch.

"Greyditch.. Have.. Have I been there before?" Cole juggled through his memory trying to think. "I do need a fresh start.." But he wondered what work he could possibly contribute. His entire life, killing was his job. "I am pretty good with people...."

"You hungry?" The women yelled from the kitchen, snapping Cole back into focus. "First things first.. Need to take care of her," He stuffed the note into his pocket and walked into the kitchen, observing the women as she set the table. "I'm so sorry, I forgot my manners," She said, looking up at him. "My name is Morgan," She stuck her hand out to him, "Morgan Grace," Cole eyed her hand, and slowly stuck out his hand in return. "Anders," He replied, shaking her hand. "Well, nice to meet your Mr. Anders," She said. He nodded in return.

"Do.. Do You have any buffout?" He asked, gripping his chest in pain. "Yes, yes of course," She quickly left the kitchen and returned not a moment sooner with a bottle, handing it to Cole. He grasped it and poured its contents into his mouth, grabbing a bottle of water from the table to help drown it down. He then took a seat and hoped for the best.

After a few minutes, Cole immediately felt the effects of the buffout. He regained his energy and his chest pain had resided to mere sting. "Now.. For Ms. Grace," He pulled the note from his pocket. "Tell me, Ms. Grace, what do you know about Greyditch?" He asked, eying her as she worked on the meal. "Greyditch? Haven't heard anything bad about it.. Haven't heard anything great about it either," She replied. "But if its run by Moriarty, you know something isn't right,"

"Really?" He questioned, standing up. "Why, are you considering going up there?" She asked, still putting her complete focus on prepping. "I mean, from this note it sounds promising," Cole replied, closing the distance between then. "I'll give you some free advice then. Don't trust Moriarty," She said. "No matter what,"

Cole stored that tidbit of information away, knowing it would come in handy later. "Do you know how to get to Greyditch from here, Ms. Grace?" He asked. "Its not very far, actually. A few miles North if you keep to the roads," She said. Cole smirked at the information, unsheathing his blade and plunging it into the poor womens back, placing his hand over her mouth as to not draw unwanted attention from outside. He pulled the knife out of her body and she fell to the floor, paralyzed from shock. "I'm truly sorry Ms. Grace, but leaving loose ends is what almost got me killed in the first place," He said to the dying women. "I tend not to make the same mistake twice,"

She stared at him blankly, unable to comprehend what was occurring. Blood oozed from her wound and spewed from her mouth as she attempted to speak. Cole cleaned off his blade and re-sheathed it, watching as Ms. Grace helplessly succumbed to her fate. A thought hit him, and he quickly checked his pockets to make sure he still had his prized memento.

"There you are," He mumbled, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. He looked down at Ms. Grace to see she had stopped struggling, body laying still. He flicked the lighter on and proceeded to light the house ablaze, setting whatever he found on his way out on fire. It burned in a beautiful column of smoke when he emerged, engulfing him with a wonderful sense of power.

When Cole finished savoring the moment, he proceeded onto the road. Following the womens directions, he started on his tread North, head held high. "Greyditch.. Here I come,"

Calypso - Wasteland - late afternoon


Calypso lashed out with her gauntlet, slicing Harolds leg. Harold turned to strike again, his leg gave out, he crashed down on top of Calypso. She head butt him square in his nose, causing it to gush blood all over her. His eyes blinked repeatedly, she reached down, shoving the flaming blade up the back of his armor. Harold reached for the blade, Calypso began throwing her shoulder into his mouth.
Once the brute had arched his back to escape the burning blade, she yanked it out, holding to his throat. Harold postured up to rain down punches, Calypso twist and turned, his fists pounding the rocks. She swiped at the brutes lower jaw with her gauntlet, forcing him to ease up on her slightly. She wiggle her leg loose and booted him square in the face, rolling out and up. A gun shot went off.

"Hang on ladie, we'll help ya" someone called from behind her. Calypso circled, never taking her eyes off Harold. Out of her peripherals, she saw a trader, pack brahmin and two guards approaching. She eyed Harold and nodded to his left, then his eyes followed hers to the short sword that lye by her foot. He flashed a smirk in return.

The caravan guard rushed up, once he was within her reach, Calypso kicked the short sword to Harold, she ducked and spun. This caught the potential saviors totally off guard, as she brought her flaming blade up, entering under his chin and exiting the top of his skull. Calypso withdrew her blade, you could hear the blood sizzling from the flames. Harold made short work of the second guard, while Crazy Wolfgang looked on, shocked and horrified by the display. Calypso drew her mesmetron, stunning Wolfgang, Harold swiftly smashed his fist into Wolfgang's temple, knocking him completely out.

Calypso stood up, switching her shiskebob off and sheathed it in the metal lined sheath. She looked at Harold, "My, my Harold, you do surprise me. You are quite the formidable opponent." She smirked, and bowed, "shall we save ourselves for future endeavors? Or shall we continue?"

Harold. Wasteland. Late afternoon.

The caravan guard rushed up, once he was within her reach, Calypso kicked the short sword to Harold, she ducked and spun. This caught the potential saviors totally off guard, as she brought her flaming blade up, entering under his chin and exiting the top of his skull. Calypso withdrew her blade, you could hear the blood sizzling from the flames. Harold smirked as the guard nearest him watched the sword spin through the air towards the giant. The brute stepped towards the caravan guard, making no effort to catch the sword. The guard's eyes followed the shortsword as it clattered across the ground, Harold used this distraction to close the distance between himself and the would-be-rescuer. The guard spotted Harold coming, but it was too late, Harold's massive hand was already descending.

The caravan guard's eyes went wide for a moment before Harold's fist crashed into his mouth. The giant grunted as he felt teeth splinter under his knuckles. This was a disappointing turn of events, he had been enjoying the fight with Calypso until they were interupted. Harold's eyes went wide as anger suddenly flowed into him. He snarled as he drew his hand back and struck again, this punch solidly slamming into the guards temple. The man's eyes immediately went glassy as he was knocked out cold. The brute snarled again as he grabbed hold of the back of the guard's leather armor, his fingers forcing down inside the man's collar. Harold knew his assailent was already unconscious as he grabbed hold of the seat of the guard's pants with his other hand and lifted him off the floor. He didn't care, he wasn't through yet. The brute roared as he ran forward a few steps and swung the guard's limp body headfirst into the fencepost he'd intended for Calypso. There was a satisfying snap as the guard's head twisted awkwardly to the side, the skin of his neck bulging as shattered bone pressed against it from within.

Harold dropped the corpse and turned about to see Calypso raise her gun and point it at the caravaneer, there was a strange noise as light was emitted from the end of the device. Harold was still enraged however, he charged, recognising the trader as "Crazy" Wolfgang. Wolfgang's expression went slack moments before Harold's massive fist shattered his nose and dropped him into the dirt, unconscious. Harold watched as Calypso stood up, switching her shiskebob off and sheathing it in the metal lined sheath. She looked at Harold, "My, my Harold, you do surprise me. You are quite the formidable opponent." She smirked, and bowed, "shall we save ourselves for future endeavors? Or shall we continue?"

Harold chuckled as he retrieved the shortsword from the ground and turned to face the cannibal once more. The giant looked Calypso up and down, he had to admit that the slight woman was formidable herself. It would be a shame to have to kill her after the fight had been interrupted, it would cheapen the kill. Besides, if either of them died here today, they wouldn't be able to do it again. Silently the giant lumbered forwards, stopping when he was only inches from Calypso, looking down into her differently coloured eyes. "Now that," he rumbled, "that was marvelous." He dropped the shortsword, the blade pluging into the dirt floor beside Calypso's foot so that the sword stood upright. "'Till next time?"

Joe Rennie. Wasteland. Late afternoon.

"...So I think that's all you need to know about the businesses in town." Joe said to Amelia as they strolled towards Grayditch. He found himself enjoying her company as the two of them talked. It was refreshing to know exactly where he stood with Amelia. Althogh he had never worked with her directly before, both had been in Moriarty's employ long enogh for Joe to have heard of her.

She's a liar and a swindler Joe, as good as you in her own way, better even if you count her looks. Don't give anything away unless you need to, she'll be straight back to Moriarty if you give her anything she can use. Still, reassuring to know that you can't trust her, it's always the ones you can't be sure about that slip you up. Only problem is, if you've heard about her. There's a pretty good chance she's headrd about you too. Just play nice for now, play along. Maybe you'll be able to find an angle on her. Time to find out how much she knows, if Moriarty has clued her in on everything then she'll know all about the slaves.

"Oh [censored], I forgot," Joe chuckled, wearing his best helpful expression, "There's Jimmy's shop too. Jimmy Legio, though you should call him Jimmy Johnson, he runs a clothiers shop down by the metro..." Joe paused as he and Amelia rounded the corner of a building, the thief's eyes going wide with disbelief. "What the [censored]?" He breathed as he watched Calypso wriggling out from under Harold, savagely kicking him as she went. Suddenly a gunshot rang out and Crazy Wolfgang ran into view pointing his pistol in the air. "Hang on ladie, we'll help ya." The trader yelled as he halted and allowed his two guards to intervene.

Brandy - Safe house outside Grayditch - mid afternoon


Brandy was sitting there in a daze when a knock came from the door.

What the hell? Oh no, raiders.

“Brandy, it’s me…Bob.”, Bob said. “I’m coming in.”

Bob then opened the door, he walked over and sat down on the couch next to her.

“Sweet Pea”, said Bob gently. “Duncan’s funeral is in about 40 minutes. Come back to town with me, and I’ll help you get ready. And after it’s over, we can talk.”. Bob then shifted to face her, Brandy rolled her eyes, irritated.

“Or, if you like”, Bob continued, “We can talk now. But I’m not leaving you out here alone like this, it just wouldn’t be right.”

Brandy squinted her eyes at Bob, "I can't make it back and get ready in time. Talk, talk, talk, that's all I have heard today."

Brandy stood up and wobbled, "I'm not going back, all Frieda did was tell Mirvin to not let anybody else in my house. She didn't tell him to shoot no-one, and I flipped out on here." She wiped her nose, "and now she's gone and its all my fault. I'm not...I can't go back."

Brandy pointed the gun at Bob's chest, "I'm not going back."

Danon - Wasteland - Mid Afternoon


Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, coming down the side of his face. Danon had been walking for hours now, making his legs numb. He stopped, and dropped the heavy bag that was pulling down on his shoulders. " The caravan merchant said it wasn't too far away, ........ aww shucks!" Danon complained. The passing merchant he had passed by on his way from leaving Megaton, said the town was only a stretch down the road.

Frustrated, Danon kicked at the sand, his hands clenched up into fists. He stood, searching the horizon around him, hoping that a town would come into his view, but nothing could be seen. He bent over, and snatched his bag from off the ground, and placed it back upon his shoulders. For the next hour or so, Danon walked on underneath the perilous the sun, his head pointed towards the ground, knelt beneath the heat of the sky. Your almost there Danon, just keep moving, he assured himself, never letting himself think that the merchant had fooled him.

For a second, Danon closed his eyes, wandering if he had made a mistake, questioning himself, should I have left Tenpenny, my one and only home? No, I have a purpose, one bigger than Tenpenny, one that I have to seek out, I am meant for something, I just have to find it. Suddenly he felled, his face crashing into the ground. Though, as quickly as he fell, he began to push himself back up. He sat on his knees, staring at the palm of his hand, where skin had been scraqed off when he fell. He then stood completely up, turning around to see what had been the cause of his fall. When he got a glimpse of a rock, seeping through a crack on the ground, he laughed. Are you serious, a rock? It seems as if my purpose is to die out here in the Wasteland, I mean c'mon, I already got my ear bitten off by a savage dog. Though it seemed luck was not on his side, Danon still managed to have a smile across face.

He looked at his palm, and rubbed it gently with the tips of his fingers. His palm stung with pain, as his fingers caressed the wound, so he cringed and dropped his hands down to his side, starring back at the path he had come from. He stood motionless, thinking to himself. But he refused to let doubt get to him, so he turned around to travel onward, and thats when he saw it.... Grayditch.

Without thinking, he took off, sprinting towards a place that had been described to him in such detail, it was hard to deny this being that said town. He stopped at the door of a diner, peering up at the sign above. Welcumming Cummity, he read.Hmm... maybe I can teach them how to spell properly, thought Danon. Danon pushed open the door, and stood straight up, his posture, one of a gentlemen. Then he exclaimed " Hello my names, Danon! How are you folks doing today !?!"

Calypso - Wasteland - late afternoon


Harold chuckled as he retrieved the shortsword from the ground and turned to face the Calypso once more. Harold looked Calypso up and down, silently Harold lumbered forwards, stopping when he was only inches from her.

"Now that," he rumbled, "that was marvelous." He dropped the shortsword, the blade pluging into the dirt floor beside Calypso's foot so that the sword stood upright. "'Till next time?"

Pulling the shortsword from the ground and sheathing it on her side, "Absolutely my love, that was indeed marvelous" she smiled, she leaned in giving Harold a small kiss on his lips. Trying not to show any signs of pain was a daunting task, every bone in her body ached, her head throbbed horribly. But, nonetheless, she walked over to the unconscious Crazy Wolfgang, and collared him.

She could see Joe and Amelia, so she acted as though she was inspecting the cargo the pack brahmin was carrying. She walked around the other, putting back against the animal, biting her lip, a tear ran down her cheek.

I'm glad Harold agreed to stop. Calypso rifled through some cargo finding a stimpack. She injected herself, she grabbed a bottle of Buffout also. Walking back around the brahmin, "Here you are my ferocious fighter." Tossing him the bottle, she winked, "shall we proceed onward to Grayditch with our new souveniers?"

Amelia – Wasteland – Late Afternoon

“…So, I think that’s all you need to know about the businesses in town.” Joe finished.

“Moriarty sure has a busy little beehive on his hands,” Her interest swayed back and forth, some things her and there but nothing big. It seemed like the quiet little town in the distance with the friendly faces and simple ways.

It was its people that Amelia was more interested in, people always interested her. She glanced at Joe as they carried onwards; less high-strung than what he was when they were in the Saloon, and no doubt doing the same as Amelia, sizing them up. Joe was a thief, someone who would steal your wife’s pearls and then sell them to your sister. And according to Moriarty on more than one occasion, “A [censored] coward!”

Amelia may be a woman, and less imposing than Harold. But he was no doubt smart enough to know she was the biggest threat to him in Grayditch. It was decent enough conversation. But could she trust him? No. Could she play him? Possibly, if she played her pieces carefully and maybe obviously – The position he held was one of power, yet he was kept on a tight leash, but maybe she thought giving him another glance. Too smart to be a Pawn, a pawn would be an insult, but a bishop. A bishop was a good piece to have.

“Oh [censored], I forgot.” Joe laughed, looking all cooperative. Like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, it was charming really. "There's Jimmy's shop too. Jimmy Legio, though you should call him Jimmy Johnson, he runs a clothiers shop down by the metro..."

She chuckled herself, “Oh don’t worry. I know all about our business man. I do hope he has some decent clothing in stock since I was promised by Mr. Tenpenny that I could have the prettiest dress.” She skipped forward ahead of Joe; she stopped and turned on heel suddenly becoming more serious. “But of course slaves really don’t need fancy clothes do they? So, he must have an abundant of clothing.” She shot a knowing grin at Joe, as he stopped, looking out pass Amelia.

"What the [censored]?” Amelia turned to see Harold and Calypso fighting. Calypso was a savage dog, and savage dogs live among people for so long before being put down. She smirked, looking at Joe. “Romantic.” The pair were so engrossed in their fight they didn’t notice Joe or Amelia. Not in till the fight was over, poor Crazy Wolfgang. Crazy was adeptly accurate at this point, helping someone was decent and noble but helping a woman that looked how Calypso looked and was armed as she was; Most would carry on walking.

“So, are we done here?” She asked, walking towards the pair. “We have a friend out there to pay an unexpected visit to.”

Calypso - Wasteland - late afternoon


As Joe and Amelia walked closer, Calypso could see Amelia smirk. She wiped the blood off her face with the back of her hand.

“So, are we done here?” Amelia asked, walking towards the pair. “We have a friend out there to pay an unexpected visit to.”

She seems like a sassy little brat, "Why I do believe we are, Harold here is quite the dynamic combatant." Calypso pat Harold on his shoulder as she walked up to the pair.

"So Joseph, how shall we present Mr. Leggio our gift." Calypso motioned to Wolfgang, "Harold and I shall take from his inventory first, the you may do as you wish with the rest."

Walking over to Amelia, Calypso looked her up and down, "We should discuss the means as to how we shall get Mr. Jake's confession. I have a more than a few ideas, but am quite curious as to yours?" She raised her eyebrow.

Bob Dobbs

Safehouse – Mid-Afternoon


“Or, if you like”, Bob continued, “We can talk now. But I’m not leaving you out here alone like this, it just wouldn’t be right.”

"I can't make it back and get ready in time.”, Brandy said hotly as she squinted at Bob. “Talk, talk, talk, that's all I have heard today."

“Fine”, Bob replied. “But I still want you to come back with me. It’s not safe out here by yourself, especially in the state you’re in.”

Brandy stood up and wobbled, "I'm not going back, all Frieda did was tell Mirvin to not let anybody else in my house. She didn't tell him to shoot no-one, and I flipped out on her." She wiped her nose, "and now she's gone and its all my fault. I'm not...I can't go back."

“The two of you were able to get past that kid Pawnee”, said Bob, “She’ll get over this too. You had something to be legitimately cross with her about, she’ll see that when she calms down. All you need to do is forgive her when she asks for it…and she eventually will. Now let’s go.”

Brandy stood up and faced him, wobbling a bit. "I'm not going back.", Brandy said angrily. She then produced Duncan’s .357 revolver and aimed it directly at him. Looking into the face of the cylinder of the revolver in Brandy’s unsteady grip, he could clearly see the mouths of the expended cartridges that were loaded in the chambers when he examined it this morning. She also did not seem to realize that to fire a Single Action Army clone like Duncan’s revolver, it was necessary to first pull back the hammer.

Not only is it empty, she doesn’t even know how to use it. I have to take her back, consequences or not….she’ll either die or get collared if I leave her here. She also needs a lesson on the facts of life in the Wasteland.

“You’ve killed in self defense, I know”, said Bob calmly. “But I can tell you from experience, killing a man in cold blood is entirely different.”

Bob then reached forward and grabbed her hands, so she could neither pull away or let go of the revolver, then firmly pulled her forward until the muzzle of the revolver was against his forehead, right between his eyes. Her reflexes dulled by Jet withdrawal, she was not quick enough to resist.

“First of all”, Bob said casually as he pulled back the hammer of the revolver in Brandy’s trembling hands to full [censored], “To fire a Single Action revolver like yours, one must pull back the hammer to the fire position.”

Brandy started at each of the three clicks as the hammer was pulled back and the cylinder rotated and locked. Bob noted the remaining two chambers also held expended cartridges…the revolver was empty.

“Bob”, said Brandy with disbelief, her eyes widening as she realized what he was about to do. “Wha…what are you doing?”. She was now beginning to struggle a little.

“Then, to fire”, Bob said, looking her dead in the eye as he slipped his thumb into the trigger guard and over her trigger finger, “One squeezes the trigger...like so”.

Sorry, Sweet Pea. This is for your own good.

Bob then squeezed his thumb and the hammer fell.

Click

Brandy jumped involuntarily as the loud click from the hammer falling on a fired cartridge echoed around the small room. Horror filled her face and her eyes began to water as she realized what would have happened if there had been a live cartridge under the hammer.

That’s right, Sweet Pea. If that revolver was loaded, you’d have painted the wall with my brains just now. Not a pleasant thought, is it?

“One down”, Bob said as he cocked the hammer again then put just a hint of pressure on her trigger finger with his thumb again. “Five to go.”

Brandy was trembling now, and tears were beginning to form. She was actively trying to let go of the revolver and shaking her head no as if begging Bob not to force her to pull the trigger again.

She’s had enough. I just hope she’ll forgive me.

“You’re no murderer, Sweet Pea.”, said Bob gently as he let go of her hands and gently took the revolver out of her unresisting grasp. “And that’s nothing to be ashamed of. None of this is your fault, this is what Jet does to people. Frieda and I may not see eye to eye, but we both want to help you. Please let us help you. Come back with me and we'll help you beat this.”

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


J.T. Was leaning on the counter, chatting with Celeste, and occasionally helping gather dirty dishes from the patrons. In walked James in a fine black suit.

Huh, I remember when my parents made me wear suits like that, thank God that's over, he smiled. Walking in behind him was Sue and a little blonde with using a crutch wearing one of those vault suits with a lab coat over the top.

Didn't James say she's his sister, can't recall her name though.

JT began to walk over to where they sat when a young man walked inside, straightening himself

" Hello my names, Danon! How are you folks doing today !?!"

JT stopped and offered his hand, "J.T. Taylor, nice to meet ya Danon. This here is Celeste's diner, she's the cute little peach behind the counter. Grab yourself a seat and relax. Not to be rude, but that young blonde over there was waiving, I'm gonna go see what she needs right quick, but I'll come chat with ya some more."

As JT approached the three, he smiled, "how ya'll doing?"

“Nín hǎo sāi lái sī tè what time does Duncan’s Funeral going to start? J.T do you need any help lifting the coffin?” James asked.

What the [censored] was that all about? He seems off or something, "yeah James, we are gonna need a couple more folks though." JT turned his attention to the blonde, "Hello pretty lady, the names JT Tayor. You seemed a little busted up earlier, how ya feeling?"


Brandy - Safe house - mid afternoon


“One down”, Bob said as he cocked the hammer again then put just a hint of pressure on her trigger finger with his thumb again. “Five to go.”

Brandy was trembling now, and tears were beginning to form. She was actively trying to let go of the revolver and shaking her head no as if begging Bob not to force her to pull the trigger again.

"What are you doing Bob, STOP!!!" Her voice becoming shrill.

“You’re no murderer, Sweet Pea.”, said Bob gently as he let go of her hands and gently took the revolver out of her hand, “And that’s nothing to be ashamed of. None of this is your fault, this is what Jet does to people. Frieda and I may not see eye to eye, but we both want to help you. Please let us help you. Come back with me and we'll help you beat this.”

"NO, I'm not going back I told you. Ha...how could you do that to me?" Brandy pushed him on his chest, she may as well have thrown a feather at him, "Frieda's forgave me too many times already, and I [censored] up again and again. You tell everybody I said bye."

As she went to step away, Bob gently but firmly grabbed her left arm. She jerked back her arm, but couldn't get it free, she batted at Bob with her other hand.

"LET ME GO!" Brandy yelled in between sobs, " you can't make me go back, why would you want me to? I screwed up things for Frieda, Pawnee, and never built Duncan his pen or fixed Celeste's door."

Brandy started kicking at his legs, but to no avail, finally she bit his hand hard enough he loosened his grip. She slid her arm out, turned and ran for the door. Bob chased her down trying to calm her down.

"WHAT? You just want to [censored] me like everyone else, then just toss me to the side? Why are you trying so hard to stop me?" She continued as she walked backwards, "maybe I am poison, Pawnee said he was, but I think its me, I mess everything up all the time, that's why my brother left me here."

Brandy turned to run, but twisted her ankle on a rock and fell. To make matters worse, two feral dogs rounded the corner of the house, springing at the easy meal that lay in front of them.



Atarah (Zipporah) Dorcas - Grayditch - mid afternoon


Atarah struggled the last few hundred feet to the diner, making her way past a man missing his ear.

"Excuse me sir" she said as she shuffled by him. She turned and sat the canvas sack on a stool, "Celeste was it? I...I have some things that you may be able to use."

Atarah starting sitting the items on the counter. Lining the counter top with five bottles of Scotch, two bottles of Vodka, three bottles of Whiskey, five bottles of water, three cans of pork n beans, a salisbury steak, a bag of flour, and various dishes and detergents. Celeste seemed pleased to have the items for the diner.

"I found them at Emporium De Winters general store." Atarah frowned, "a female ghoul, with lots of makeup, dare I say pretty even. Well, I think she killed the man who ran the store. I found him dead and someone or something must have gotten her before she got away."

Atarah folded up the sack, turned and surveyed the diner. There were more people now, must be waiting for the funeral they were talking about earlier.

She meandered over to the casket, curiously looking around at the remaining damage in the small diner. She placed her hands on the edge of the casket looking at the bald man as he now lay piecefully.

The thoughts of how easily she could loot a shop irked her. That lifestyle was in her past, she was a new person now, no longer the flesh eating, sadistic, six and drug fueled Raider that she once was. It disgusted her, irritated her, tears welled up in her eyes. She bent her knees slightly, propping her elbows up on the side of Duncan's casket. Atarah said a prayer for him, wiping the tears from her eyes, she stood up and walked over to where a small group were chatting.

"Excuse me, my name is Atarah," she introduced herself, "What exactly happened here? I thought I heard somebody say it was a raider attack?" Atarah curiously asked.

Note: will be adding a Jessica & sue post shortly after...

James Wilson- Celeste diner- Late afternoon

Yeah James, we are gonna need a couple more folks though."

James opened the book, after flicking a few pages, he said “Sū yě jiāng yǒu sup bāngzhù” (Sue will also help)

“What?” J.T replied unaware James was speaking Chinese

James laughed, “It’s Chinese, I found this book along with my hat in Bob's house, there were Chinese ghouls inside “ James chuckled whilst showing the book to J.T

The girl James had spoke to earlier walked up to the group, “Excuse me, my name is Atarah, What exactly happened here? I thought I heard somebody say it was a raider attack?" Atarah asked.

“It’s long story ,come sit down and I’ll tell ya , Celeste could I have two Nuka- cola's please” James asked Celeste as he sat down in an empty booth.

“Okay it all started with Pawnee, the guy with the powerfist on his arm. Anyway, he had a bounty on his head, and this bounty hunter call scythe and his group came after him”James said before taking a sip of his Nuka-cola

“A bunch of us went with Pawnee to confront them, he was going to bribe them off with these Gold coins we found. But, they double crossed the Deal, so we killed them all getting got shot up in process” James said whilst getting the gold coin out of his pocket and spinning it on the table, before putting it back in his pocket.

“While we were out of town, a bunch of religious raiders showed up, claiming they were "cleansing the town". Good thing I locked my door or we may of come back to a ghost town. Anyway, they took everyone who stayed behind hostage in Celeste's diner but Duncan and few others fought them off. Sadly the leader threw a Grenade that killed him and knocked out another guy."

“Then a few days later Zardoz shows up, with all his healing potions, as if he knew we were attacked."

"Oh, and gave me a letter from the Talon company, that got me kidnapped at anchorage. Dragged across the wasteland, into the middle of a [censored] war zone!” James said before pausing for a second...

“Although, after I fought my way out of my cell and gunned down some Talon [censored] mercs. I found Jessica and carried her all the way back to town” James said whilst looking at Jessica, who was talking to J.T and Sue…

a few minutes late the funeral began and James, Sue and the others lifted up the coffin and walkied outside




Jessica& Sue - Celeste dinner - same time

James had sat down with atarah and began telling her about the raider attack when the guy James had been speaking to spoke to Jessica “Hello pretty lady, the names JT Tayor. You seemed a little busted up earlier, how ya feeling?"

“Hello my name Is Jessica and I’m doing much better now thank you”

“What happened anyway?” JT asked

Jessica was quite for monument “ I don’t want to talk about, bad things happened but James came and saved me.. h” Jessica was interrupted by Sue who did severally hand signal to Jessica

“Hehe no he’s not flirting with me hehe Sue’s getting Jealous” Jessica giggled

“It looks like Duncan’s funeral is going start, were is he going to get buried?” Jessica asked to J.t whilst he and few others began lifting Duncan’s coffin.

OOC: Okay I'll post this now. Duncan really loved his one brahmin. Maybe it would be in the funeral procession? My characters didn't know that about him, so I'll leave that up to someone who did. :sadvaultboy:

@ Cobra - if Harold/Calypso want to run into Zardoz on his way to Megaton that's fine. Just remember to play nice. You have no idea what kind of secret weaponry Zardoz has hidden in his wagon. . .like his Tesola Cannon :laugh:

--Greyditch Outskirts--
--Sunset--
--Zardoz--

Zardoz followed the funeral procession in his covered wagon. When the pallbearers set down Duncan's coffin, he exited, and took a place on top of a small hill, in front of the crowd.

Nikita skipped up to his side and handed him an old bible. He waited for several minutes until the murmurs of the crowd died down to a whisper, and he knew he would be clearly heard.

The sun hung low behind Zardoz, slowly setting over the DC skyline.

"Good evening residents of Greyditch," Zardoz boomed, in a loud, commanding tone. "If you missed my caravan or neglected to make my acquaintance, my name is Zardoz, and I will be officiating over the funeral of the dearly departed Duncan."

Nikita ducked away from Zardoz, and he extended his arms out in a warm hello, motioning for all in attendance to gather around Duncan's coffin.

"I, myself, never had the privilege of meeting Duncan, but it is clear to me from talking to many of you, that he was a very beloved individual in this town. As a matter of fact, Duncan died defending this town, and the innocent, hardworking souls who've made it their home. Some of us may wonder why God would take such a brave, kind-hearted soul from us, while letting so many evil - neigh - despicable men live well into old age. All I can say - as the Romans said long before me - is 'finitum de infinito non potest statuere.' The finite cannot understand the infinite. God's ways shall always remain a mystery to mere mortals like us. But I trust that true justice shall be delivered in the hereafter, to Duncan, to those that have cruelly slain him, and to every other woman and man."

Zardoz smiled at Celeste and the assembled pallbearers.

"Since I never knew Duncan, it would be unseemly for me talk about his life and his good deeds. In a brief moment, I'll open up this ceremony, so that anyone in attendance can come up here and share some of their thoughts and memories of Duncan with the rest of us. You, as a town, shall do his memory justice while putting his body to rest. But, before you do so, please bow your heads for a brief prayer."

Zardoz thumbed through his bible for several minutes and then began to read from a dog-eared page.

"Oh God, this is Your glory. You are slow to anger, and always ready to forgive. God, it is not the death of sinners You seek, but that they should turn from their ways and live. Until the last day, You wait for them, welcoming them as soon as they turn to You. You have created us and know what we are. We are but flesh and blood. Man’s origin is dust, and dust is his end. Each of us is a shattered urn. Grass that must wither. A flower that will fade. A shadow moving on. A cloud passing by. A particle of dust floating on the wind. . .a dream soon forgotten,*" Zardoz looked up, "Though our lives here on Earth may be limited, their meaning isn't it. Each one of us has been chosen as a bearer of the divine flame. That flame doesn't die with our bodies. When we pass on, it returns to its source. An infinite wellspring. Peace be with you Duncan, and may you find rest and happiness in God's heavenly kingdom. And let us say, amen."

When Zardoz finished, he stepped off of the top of the hill and waved for other attendees to take his place.

"Now, any one of you who wishes to talk of Duncan, please share your memories of him. Help us better know this great, yet humble man."

*Unatana Tokef prayer.

Danon- Diner

The first person to greet Danon when he entered the diner was a very tall man with dirty blonde hair, who was chatting with a very busty brunette. The man stopped and offered his hand, "J.T. Taylor, nice to meet ya Danon. This here is Celeste's diner, she's the cute little peach behind the counter. Grab yourself a seat and relax. Not to be rude, but that young blonde over there was waiving, I'm gonna go see what she needs right quick, but I'll come chat with ya some more." Danon looked over at the people seated at the other side of the diner, and wandered why they were dressed in such a depressing manner.

But he quickly averted his attention back to the the woman standing behind the counter, showing her a smile that could be seen from a mile away. He walked up to the counter and sat down right in front of her. " so.... Celeste, what do you guys got to eat around here?" Danon asked as his stomach began to growl.

Joe Rennie. Wasteland. Late afternoon.

“Romantic.” Amelia stated, smirking at Joe as the two of them watched Harold and Calypso fight.

"What the [censored]?" The thief quietly repeated. Staring in disbelief as Crazy Wolfgang and his guards were quicly taken down by the giant and the cannibal. Only the trader surviving the brief encounter.

What the hell is going on here Joe? For a minute there I thought at least one of them would have killed the other. I don't care which, Harold dead would be a hell of a weight off my back and Calypso. Well, she looks like a headache you don't need. We're halfway back and already she's causing trouble. And now she's slapping a collar on Wolgang. Just great. It's good that she's already helping out, but how the hell do we bring him in without being seen?

Joe walked towards Harold and Calypso, allowing Amelia to take the lead, “So, are we done here?” Amelia asked, casually walking towards the pair. “We have a friend out there to pay an unexpected visit to.”

"Why I do believe we are," Calypso sneered, "Harold here is quite the dynamic combatant." Calypso pat Harold on his shoulder as she walked up to the pair.

"So Joseph, how shall we present Mr. Leggio our gift." Calypso motioned to Wolfgang,

"you can take him in however you like," Joe replied, smiling warmly at the cannibal, "Though, I would obviously prefer it if you keep quiret and out of sight. Is his nose broken? Does that effect his value?" The thief shrugged, "Ah, I don't know. Slaving is your business. Tell you what... You get him all ready to travel back, I'll be going through his inventory..."

"Harold and I shall take from his inventory first, the you may do as you wish with the rest." Calypso interrupted Joe, glaring at him as she spoke.

"Ok fine, but I get the cap..." Joe paused as he spotted Harold also glaring at him. "Half of the caps,"

Calypso turned away from Joe, walking over to Amelia, The cannibal looking her up and down, "We should discuss the means as to how we shall get Mr. Jake's confession. I have a more than a few ideas, but am quite curious as to yours?"

Actually Calypso, it looks like you do have your uses after all. You're almost testing the water for me. Just how deep do her ties to Moriarty go? What is she willing to do to get her confession?

"That is a very good question," Joe said, facing Amelia wearing a thoughtful expression. "How do you intend to get an innocent man to confess?"

Jimmy Leggio - Late Afternoon

Jimmy stood by his house, finishing up his cigarette. Off in the distance, towards the diner, Jimmy could hear some sort of buzz.. perhaps a gathering. Jimmy did not care. He had many problems plaguing him. Eight slaves who were starving to death in a metro and no buyers, his family had just left leaving Jimmy alone, and he had yet to gather the clothes for his cover business. It was just as well Jimmy heard the deep voice from his African-American right hand man behind him when he did.

"Jimmy, I've received word that Laura and Lucille are back in Falls. The trader has also arrived in the metro," Petey announced.

Jimmy sighed in relief. The metro led right out into DC, hardly the safest place in the Wasteland. Thankfully the trader seemed to be able to handle himself.

"Good, good," Jimmy mumbled, dropping the filter of his smoked cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his shoe. "I do not wish to see him, just in case. Keep myself as unattached as possible. I'd hate to have to kill the only merchant who I can do business with because he gets curious."

Petey shuffled in his spot for a moment. "Uh, Jimmy. I have an idea. Perhaps, instead of paying the man, we just... take the food and collar him? Once we sell him off with the rest of the slaves we'll have enough caps to actually begin paying for food and water for ourselves regularly, because right now I'm not sure we can pay him and still have enough left to cover the basic cost of living in this hole."

Jimmy shook his head. "This fellow, whatever his name is, has agreed to sell us food. We want to maintain the stock, we need food and water. And besides, I don't even know where I'm shifting the [censored]s. I'll settle that later." Jimmy procured a sack of caps from his jacket pocket and tossed it to Petey. "Take what's necessary to pay him. And maybe.. get his name. I want to know who I'm dealing with, the last thing I need is some Regulator or Bounty Hunting opportunistic [censored] wasting my time."

"Yeah, no problem boss man," Petey said, tucking the caps into his back pocket and setting off towards the diner. Might as well set [censored] off, Jimmy thought, looking at the descending sun. Jimmy wasn't a man who normally found beauty in the Wasteland, but the sunset could certainly provide a certain.. calming atmosphere at the right times.

Now, where the [censored] did Rennie said the suits were? Jimmy pondered as he began into town.

Bob Dobbs

Safehouse – Mid-Afternoon

"NO, I'm not going back I told you. Ha...how could you do that to me?" Brandy screamed as she tried weakly to push Bob away, "Frieda's forgave me too many times already, and I [censored] up again and again. You tell everybody I said bye."

“I told you”, said Bob as he gently but firmly grabbed her left arm as she tried to step away. “I’m not leaving you out here like this…you don’t even have a weapon. What do you think a Raider or Slaver is going to do when you try to bluff them with a empty revolver?”

Finding she could not free her arm from Bob’s grip, Brandy back-handed him with her free right hand. "LET ME GO!" Brandy yelled in between sobs, " you can't make me go back, why would you want me to? I screwed up things for Frieda, Pawnee, and never built Duncan his pen or fixed Celeste's door."

And running off into the wasteland with nothing but a empty gun will fix that how?

“Frieda already forgave you for that.!”, retorted Bob. “And how are you going to be able to do those things if you run away now?”

Brandy started kicking at Bob’s legs. When that did not work, she grabbed his arm and bit Bob’s hand.

“OW, DAMMIT!”, shouted Bob as the pain from Brandy’s bite caused him to let go of her. “You bit me, you…you…Brat!”

If someone told me two years ago I’d be chasing a Jet-crazed Wastelander and trying to talk some sense into her, I’d have laughed in their faces. I could only imagine the look on the colonel's face. heh

Now free, Brandy ran for the door. Bob went after her.

“Come back here!”, shouted Bob. “I care about you and I’m not leaving you here. You won’t last a day out in the Wasteland unarmed and without any equipment!”

"WHAT? You just want to [censored] me like everyone else, then just toss me to the side? Why are you trying so hard to stop me?" She spat venomously as she walked backwards, "Maybe I am poison, Pawnee said he was, but I think its me, I mess everything up all the time, that's why my brother left me here."

If all you were to me was a piece of ass, I’d be supplying you with Jet…not begging you to stop using it. Somehow I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring that up, though. If she wants to act like a child, so be it. She’ll tire out eventually and then I’ll take her back home.

Brandy then turned as if to start running, but twisted her ankle on a rock and fell down. Stunned by the sudden fall, Brandy lay sprawled out on the ground, glaring at Bob.

“Are you alright, Sweet Pea?”, Bob asked as he moved to catch up to her. “I think it’s time…”

Bob didn’t finish the sentence as he realized that two mangy dogs, feral by the look of them, had just rounded the corner of the house. Seeing Brandy sprawled out on the ground, and not looking at them, they sped towards her, intent on taking her as their next meal.

[censored]!

Bob didn’t have time to consciously think about how to react…the endless years of training and the last two years of more or less continuous combat as first a soldier and then a caravan guard took over and Bob reacted on instinct.

Brandy’s eyes widened as Bob’s eyes suddenly went cold and he began rushing towards her, and the grim expression on his face as he drew his revolver with practiced ease chilled her to the bone. Still unaware of the dogs behind her, she thought Bob had decided to kill her. As she opened her mouth to speak, Bob began firing even as he continued forward.

Brandy screamed as Bob fired four times, too scared to notice that he wasn’t aiming the revolver anywhere near her. When she heard the loud cries behind her as the dogs were hit, she realized he was shooting at something behind her and rolled over on her stomach to see what it was. She had time to see one dog lying on the ground about ten feet away twitching, and another dog, with blood seeping down it’s side where Bob had shot it, skid to a stop less than six feet from her and growl fiercely, baring it’s teeth and tensing as if to pounce, before Bob landed in front of her, placing himself firmly between her and the remaining dog.

“Stay behind me!”, Bob barked as he glanced back at her for a moment then returned his gaze to the wounded, but still dangerous dog. “No more of your Brahmin-[censored], do what I [censored] say!”

Enraged by the .38 slug in it’s guts, and the death of its companion, the dog bared it’s teeth at Bob and leaped at him. Anticipating this, Bob rolled with the impact and dog and man hit the ground, rolling around as the dog tried to bite Bob. Bob managed to pin the dog to the ground and another two shots rang out, causing Brandy to scream again.

Bob then staggered to his feet, standing above the now dead dog and looking around with a nearly feral gaze as he dumped the empty brass from his revolver and slammed in a speedloader of .357 shells, then snapped the cylinder shut. Walking up to Brandy, he handed her the still smoking revolver, butt first.
“Take it!”, Bob said fiercely. “ If a dog gets past me shoot it. And if you point this one at me, I swear to [censored] God I’ll spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week!”

Taken aback by this, Brandy meekly took the Police Pistol. Bob then walked over to where he had dropped his CAR and picked it up. Racking the bolt, he then moved around Brandy to the corner where the dogs had come from. Seeing more of the pack charging towards the house, he began firing short bursts at the dogs in the lead. After three of them were cut down, the rest ran back the way they came. Bob shot two more before they fled out of sight. Changing magazines, Bob scanned the area with the Holosight. Nothing.

“Clear.”, Bob said aloud to himself. “Time to get the [censored] out of Dodge.”

“What?”, asked Brandy, a little fearfully, “Were you talking to me?”

“It was nothing, Sweet Pea”, Bob replied, starting to remember who he was talking to. “Stay there for a moment...please.”

Bob rushed back into the house, and picked up Duncan’s revolver from where he laid it on the couch. Seeing nothing else of Brandy’s, he rushed back outside and went up to her. Brandy had stood up, but stayed where he had told her.

“I’ll take that back now, please”, said Bob as he slung his CAR then held out his hand. Still taken aback by Bob’s fight with the dogs Brandy handed over the Police Pistol without protest. Bob took it then put it back in his holster. Bob then removed Duncan’s revolver from under his pistol belt and opened Brandy’s bag and placed it inside. Bob then spotted a familiar red and white object inside. He reached in and pulled out a half-full Jet inhaler. “And what is this? I think you’ve had quite enough of this [censored], it just nearly got you torn to pieces by wild dogs.”

Brandy lunged for the inhaler, but Bob held her at arms length then squeezed the inhaler, discharging it harmlessly into the air. He then threw the inhaler away and turned to face her. She was now furious, but Bob didn’t care.

“We’re going home, right now!”, Bob said firmly as he scooped up Brandy and began to walk back towards Grayditch, ignoring her protests and struggling. “You can hate me for this if you want, but I will not leave you here to die!”

CELESTE BROWN ~~ Diner ~~ Late afternoon/early evening

J.T. was in and out, helping her clear dishes, and making idle conversation. Celeste spent the next couple of hours completely distracted. Joe had supposedly left town suddenly, and the reality of Duncan's funeral was weighing in heavily on her heart and mind. A couple of newcomers came in, and she served them halfheartedly, feeling as though every minute dragged on.

Finally it was time for the funeral. Celeste shooed the patrons out of the diner, put up her CLOSED clipboard, and approached the caravan. She quietly followed the procession, barely able to watch the pallbearers carry Duncan's coffin.

She pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Celeste wanted to make sure she heard every word of the eulogy. The man called Zardoz stood on a small hill and spoke for a time. Tears welled up in her eyes and she bowed her head, sniffing, as she wiped them away.

Eventually, Zardoz stepped down. "Now, any one of you who wishes to talk of Duncan, please share your memories of him. Help us better know this great, yet humble man."

Celeste stepped forward and peered into the grave. It was hard to imagine that Duncan's body was encapsulated in such a claustrophobic looking wooden case. She wiped another tear and knelt down, as though doing so would make it easier for Duncan to hear her.

"Duncan, it's Celeste." She paused, wiping tears again, before being able to speak again. "I can never really repay you for what you did for me. No one else in my life would do what you did, and...and I wish you hadn't lost your life doing it. The diner won't be the same without your warm presence and soft voice."

Celeste sobbed. She was simply too choked to continue. She stood and walked away from the grave and clasped Zardoz by the hand as she passed him. "Beautiful service, Mr. Zardoz. Thank you." She nodded to the purple haired woman and walked the short distance back to town, not realizing she probably shouldn't have gone alone. Celeste trudged along, feeling heartsick and weary.

When she returned to the diner, a woman of average height, wearing a powder blue tank top that was very loose fitting on the woman's small frame and jeans that were frayed at the ends, leaning with her back against the bar looking out into the town. Dirty, worn sneakers were on her feet. She had a gaudy gold ring in her right nostril and her head was entirely shaved.

"Hi," Celeste greeted her with a small smile. "Sorry that I was closed. The rest of the town was attending a funeral. Can I help you?"

"Celeste Brown?"

"Yes?"

"My name's Tap. You're to head back to Moriarty's in Megaton. I'm taking over this place for a while."

Celeste shook her head, dumbfounded. "Sorry? This is my diner, dad -- I mean, Mr. Moriarty, he hired me to run this place. I didn't hear of any replacement."

Tap rubbed the back of her head. "Can't say that's really my problem? He told me to come here and send you back."

"Why?" She began to feel angry. Why would dad do that? If he didn't like how I was running the diner, why couldn't he just tell me what to do better?

"Don't know. He heard you were hurt," Tap flicked a finger towards Celeste's patched eye, "and said you should go home to recover, where he could take care of you. In the meantime, I'm running the diner and the Welcoming Committee." She smiled. "I'll take good care of the place for you. It's in my best interests not to piss off Moriarty."

Celeste took a breath but didn't immediately respond. Tap extended her hand.

"Give me the keys to the place. Archie's gonna escort you back. He stepped out to take a leak. In the meantime, go collect whatever stuff you want. You leave immediately."

Before Celeste could protest further, the merc walked in, as though on cue. She frowned and handed Tap the keys to the diner and didn't care to explain which one opened the cash box and the liquor cabinet, respectively. "Well, it was nice to meet you," she murmured.

Celeste gathered her clothes and a small pouch of caps. Archie led her out of her house and towards the edge of town towards Megaton. With a heavy heart, Celeste followed.



(OOC: please see OOC for further info...)

Brandy - Safe house - mid afternoon


Brandy lunged for the inhaler, but Bob held her at arms length then squeezed the inhaler, discharging it harmlessly into the air.

"What the hell are you doing? I bought that!" Brandy said furiously.

Bob then threw the inhaler away and turned to face her, “We’re going home, right now!”, Bob said firmly as he scooped up her up, “You can hate me for this if you want, but I will not leave you here to die!”

"Wa...what? I said NO, put me down NOW" Brandy said kicking her legs, "why can't we stay here, you can stay with me I guess, I don't want to go back."

Brandy continued to kick and scream until her voice became hoarse. She tried to twist, she tried everything she could, but Bob maintained his hold on her.

"I...I think I'm going to be sick, please put me down, please?" She pleaded. Bob didn't budge, instead, he kept pace to Grayditch. Brandy started making herself dry heave, finally Bob sat her down. She knelt down so he couldn't see her eyes wandering around. He turned his back for just a second, Brandy jumped up and tried darting off, her ankle said otherwise though. Bob quickly threw her over his shoulder once more.

"I really am going to be sick Bob" trying to convince him.

"Haha, nice try sweet pea, I'm not taking that chance again." Bob replied

Brandy growled, "Fine, I'll just puke all over you then. I still can't believe you wasted that Jet. I want to walk, put me down, I can walk myself."

"Nope" was Bob's quick reply.

Brandy started yanking on his gun, trying to slide the strap off his shoulder. He will have to put me down to pick his gun up. The strap started to slide down Bob's arm, he pushed it back up, almost hitting Brandy.

"You almost hit me, put me down, I'm warning you." She threatened.

"Nice try sweet pea, I don't think so, we are almost there." Bob said coolly, as they were just a few hundred yards away.

Brandy started pulling stuff off his belt and dropping the stuff on the ground. Bob moaned in frustration as he knelt down to pick up his fast loader and clips.

"There's the funeral" he said, Brandy looked, "Do you really want to be scene acting like this? Will you try to take off if I let you walk the rest of the way?"

Brandy's heart sunk as she looked at the funeral service being conducted. Some of the residents were glancing at her.

"No" she pouted, "I won't run."

Bob carefully sat her down, he held her hand just in case, and to help her along on her sore ankle. She looked mangy, her hair frizzy from not drying or brushing it, her clothes filthy, her eyes red and bloodshot. Her voice was dry and hoarse from yelling and screaming.



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


“Hello my name Is Jessica and I’m doing much better now thank you.” Jessica cheerfully replied.

“What happened anyway?” JT asked

Jessica was quiet for moment “ I don’t want to talk about, bad things happened but James came and saved me.. h” Jessica was interrupted by Sue who did several hand signals to Jessica.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but looks like things are turning around for ya." JT grinned.

Jessica giggled, “No he’s not flirting with me" she smiled, "Sue’s getting Jealous”

“It looks like Duncan’s funeral is going start, were is he going to get buried?” Jessica asked.

"Just outside of town, I had best get over there, looks like its about to start." JT answered before taking his place as a pallbearer.

The small procession slowly made its way out of town to the burial site. The mood was a somber one, Zardoz made his way to the front of the small crowd. Nikita handed him his Bible and whisked off to the side. Zardoz spoke admirably on the makeshift pulpit. After a moment of prayer, he stepped down, waiving for the attendees to step forward.

"Now, any one of you who wishes to talk of Duncan, please share your memories of him. Help us better know this great, yet humble man." Zardoz told the small crowd.

Celeste was right up front, and the first to step up and speak. She peered into the grave and softly spoke to Duncan, barely audible to the bystanders. She turned back around, wiping tears from her face and approached Zardoz.

"Beautiful service, Mr. Zardoz. Thank you." Celeste said sadly, then walked back to the diner. J.T looked around, he decided to step up and speak.

Clearing his throat he began, "I didn't know Duncan, but I was there when he passed on. Even as he was facing death he managed to chuckle a couple of times. In those few moments I shared with him, he seemed like an honorable man, looking out for those he cared for, for his friends, for his town. I wish I could have had the pleasure of knowing him better. I have heard nothing but kind words about him, and that's hard to come by in the Wasteland. In his final words he asked that we take care of Jane, his brahmin, he also told me and another fella to look after the town and make sure no harm comes to it."

J.T svcked his cheeks in before continuing, "Well, I wasn't planning on sticking around, I was just passing through, but when you meet a man like that who asks you...well, I plan on doing as he asked. Rest In Piece Duncan, you deserve it."

J.T stepped down walking over to Zardoz, "Thank you my friend, I appreciate you taking the time for these people and Duncan." And he shook Zardoz's hand.

Mirvin. Mr Duncan's Grave. Mid afternoon.

Mirvin stood silently, watching as Mr Zardoz, Miss Celeste and then Mr J.T took turns to talk about the individual being inhumed in the grave. After Mr J.T had finished speaking and resumed his position amongst the mourners, the protectron walked to the side of the grave, his feet thumping on the dirt as he slowly waddled forward.

"Hello folks," He rasped in his flat, synthetic voice, "If it is acceptable to those present, I will say a few words. Mr Frank always liked to have music accompany somber affairs such as this." As the robot said this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNpkQhaXnC0 issued from his speakers, before being abruptly switched off again. "I must appologise for that my good chums, that was completely inapropriate, please allow me to try that again."

For a moment the protectron remained motionless, facing the group assembled before him, when a http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMvpSHe3lEM began to play. "I myself never met Mr Duncan, but Miss Brandy did. When she and Miss Frieda accompanied me back from the derelict supermarket, Miss Brandy talked at great length of many of the residents of Grayditch, Mr Duncan amongst them. As Miss Brandy is not present to speak for herself, I will share some of the things she said to me."

The music continued to play as the voice coming from Mirvin's speaker changed, becoming that of Miss Brandy as he replayed snippets from their conversation. "Oh, there's Duncan too, he lives in a tent at the far end of town... I think you'll really like him Mirvin, he's such a sweet guy... He's bought himself a whole heard of brahmin you know, though I think that Jane will always be his favorite. He bought her with him when he first came to town you see... He's going to set up a ranch in town, that's why he bought so many. I'm going to help him too, he's asked me to help him build his ranch, it's going to be soooo cool." The voice stopped, reverting back to Mirvin's usual emotionless rasp. "Though I never met Mr Duncan in person, it is clear to me that he was a well liked individual. In the one hundred and ninety seven years I have been searching the wasteland I have encountered eight people who's companions deemed them worth a funeral, many more were simply left where they fell. It is my understanding that this community has only existed for a short time, yet in that time Mr Duncan clearly proved his worth to you, his friends." Allowing the music to continue playing, Mirvin thumped over to Mr Zardoz. Following Miss Celeste and Mr J.T's lead Mirvin extended his metal claw, offering a handshake.

Danon- Duncan's funeral

Danon towards the back of the crowd, not saying a word. His head was straight up, and the expression on his face was one of total seriousness. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the people of this town, they all seemed so close, like they cared deeply for another..... or at least thats what it seemed like.

Danon walked forward, and looked down into the grave. Inside lied a big wooden case, and Danon couldn't imagine being in there due to his fear of enclosed spaces. As he turned around to walk back, he felt woozy all of a sudden, and his vision began to blur. He stumbled, and his body hit the ground hard. His body immediately began to thrash violently against the ground, uncontrollably, while the others in attendance to the funeral watched in horror.

James Wilson ( and Jessica) – Duncan’s funeral – mid or late afternoon or early evening

James watched as Zardoz, Miss Celeste, J.T took turns to talk about the Duncan, mirvin was speaking now but eariler he had put on some rather inapropriate music... When James saw Bob, carrying Brandy walk over the Hill a few hundred yards away...

Is everyone getting it on with Brandy or something?

After Mirvin had finished speaking and resumed his position amongst the mourners, James step up and began to speak.

“ I didn’t know Duncan for along time but…”

hmm other than Pawnee not many people here know much about duncan…

“God dam he was good friend and overall nice guy , he was never rude and always managed to look on the birghter side of life. I remember this one time I saw him riding Jane in tow…” James said but was Interrupted by the new guy, Danon something crashing to floor and began to thrash violently against the ground, uncontrollably…

"what the [censored]s wrong with him?" James asked

“quick he’s Having a seizure. Sue hold his left size and stop him from moving “ Jessica shouted, Sue nodded and couched down and held Danon still.

“ James put you Jacket under his head I;m going to put him in the recovery postion and i need something to protect his head..." Jessica shouted to James

James Put his Jacket under Danon's Head as Jessica moved Danon into the recovery postion, whilst Danon continued thrash around, he was unable to move.

“ Nobody Touch him and he should be okay in 5 minutes, it looks like he’s got Epilepsy“Jessica said to the group…

Brandy - Duncan's funeral - mid afternoon



Walking towards the ceremony, Brandy watched Mirvin go stand in front of everyone. As she got closer, she could hear her own voice, does he record everything, God I hope not. Slowly, Brandy, with Bob's help finally made it to the grave site. Brandy furrowed her brow while watching someone she hadn't seen before walk up. The man looked down at Duncan's casket and turned away, he went limp, falling to the ground and thrashing about like he was having a seizure. Brandy, self absorbed with her feelings at that moment, never even attempted to help the man. Instead, she edged over to look down at Duncan's final resting place. She covered her mouth with her hands and just lost it, overwhelmed with emotions from everything, this put her over the edge. She dropped to her knees, resting her elbows on them, face in her hands crying hysterically.

"Oh Duncan, I promise I will build you brahmin pen, I promise. Thank you for being there when I needed somebody, when I knew nobody else. I wish it were me instead of you, you didn't deserve this Duncan."

Brandy just curled up, unable to stop crying, Bob scooped her up in his arms and attempted to get her calmed down to no avail. Atarah had been quiet as a church mouse watching the service, she rushed up to Brandy and Bob.

"It's OK sweetie, he's in a better place, come on I will help you. Do you need to talk? Atarah calmly asked.

"I...I'm falling apart, I can't handle all of this." Brandy sniffed and rubbed her nose, " Duncan, Pawnee, my [censored] brother, and now Frieda too, I can't take it anymore."

Atarah rubbed Brandy's head as she leaned in and whispered, "I'm a good listener, come on lets go somewhere and talk."

"That's all everyone has said today, is they just want to talk, I can't talk anymore, I don't want to. I...it just seems to cause me nothing but trouble." Brandy painfully replied, "I just want to go somewhere, anywhere but here."

"Running away wont solve anything sweetie, if you don't walk to talk, that's okay. But can I go with you and sit with you?" Atarah asked sorrowfully, "Oh, I'm sorry, my name is Atarah."

"Atarah? That's a nice name." Brandy buried her head in Bob's chest, "Okay, okay, ya...you can come with me. But don't be surprised if everything falls apart around you."

"Great, I'll follow you two" Atarah spoke softly stroking Brandy's hair.