ICC- Lone Wanders Chapter 2

Ibis gets a lead

OOC- Ok in keeping with the development of NPCs, here is a bit from Ibis who in looking into the mystery of the Blade defeat. It makes little sense that the Raiders did it, so the question is, who did.

Not sure if you folks want the Slavers to be a major part of the story or not. It makes sense that there would be a lot of slavers following the raiders and that they would still be around after the raiders lost out in Chapter 1.
______


The fire was dieing down, contained but slow to extinguish. Jonesy’s establishment was gone and, certainly, Jonesy with it. Ibis, being around the dead and picked up a bit on human anatomy, knew enough to realize that Jonesy had been up to more than just a shop.

The pallor of the skin, the look of the eyes, all indicated that Jonesy was making some kind of narcotic cocktails. The fire, in its brilliance, color and ferocity, all indicated chemical compounds.

Damn, thought Ibis, there goes the Formaldehyde.

Ibis had thought the presence of the cop meant an arson investigation, but instead the cop had just been cursing into his radio and had off to the station. Maybe chemical fires in slumville just weren’t so important, nor was the strange death of one of Slumville's leading residents.

“Poor damn Jonesy must have had an accident.” Ibis whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

“No accident, I saw someone leave the premises right before the whole damn thing went up.” Said a child whom Ibis had not noticed sitting besides him, and who was petting Cerebus’s wolf head. Cerebus, a whore for attention, was allowing the boy to scratch behind the Boxer's ears. Some guard dog.

“What do you mean, you saw someone leaving the place?” Asked Ibis, gently.

“Yep, that’s what I said. What's the matter with ay, you hard a hearin’” said the boy. Smart ass.

“Well ok, so what did this someone look like?” Ibis said, patiently. With children one had to take it slow, though Ibis, the voice of experience.

“He’s a big muthafucker. " Said the boy loudly, as if the sound would make the character bigger. "He's dressed in all black like the night, and looks real mean. And I think I saw blood on ‘em. Maybe he was doing some business for you, Grandpa Death.” Said the boy.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed or something?”

“Fuck you, you ole morbid weirdo. I can go where’s I want, and do’s what I want. Don’t you try telling me what’s what or I’ll just fuck you up.” All defiant, piss and vinegar, but maybe this little shit packed a piece.

“Indeed.” Said Ibis, smiling.

“Fuck’n A right bubba. And don’t you try to put that voodoo shit on me.” Said the boy, eyes squinted and peering up at the old man.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Said the old man, with a wink and a bit of the sinister snear. "But maybe I'm already dead and just a ghost that takes away the living to the other place. Maybe I'll take you one night."

“Better not." Said the boy. The quietly, " Anyways, I figure it was that Blade that did it.”

An old man who was watching the fire with junkie’s eyes, blinked when he heard the word Blade. “Nope, not the Blade. He come in after the fire got started. I talked to ‘em earlier. Not him, nope.”

“Ah you all fucked up, old man, you should die and just get it over with.” The kid was just full of ideas.

An old prostitute then chimed in. “Don’t matter I heard all the Blades round here were dead, anyway. They all feeding the crows out a couple of days if you go by wagon. Hundreds of ‘em dead.”

The old whore was past her prime, her skin greying with premature age, and her skin wrinkled. She was also a bit overweight and barely fit into her skin tight pants.

The boy looked at her and said, his curiousity aroused, “Who said that?”

“Slaver fellow I got to know the other night.” Said the old whore. “Said almost all of ‘em got killed, ‘cept a few they turning to slaves and took away to Grey Cliffs.”

“Past Dry River and to Grey Cliffs.” Said Ibis, less a question than a statement. "Strange place to take slaves. Maybe he told you why."

“I don’t know. He’s not much for talking really. Not much for anything to tell you the truth. But he said it was the raiders that sold ‘em the Blades and the rest of the Blades are all dead.”

Slavers were not new in Tabis. Like so many other merchants, the slavers sold a commodity that still had an asking price. A few of the wealthier residents owned slaves, and more than a few of the prostitutes were former tribals that had gotten caught. But The word was that many of the slaves were going elsewhere, to another place, although no one really knew why.

But slavers weren't disciplined soldiers and lacked the ferocity of raiders. They, like raiders, were just another form of the vermin that populated so much of the land.

“Never was raiders ever killed hundreds of Blades,” said the boy. The boy might be full of sass but he wasn’t stupid.

“Nope,” said another prostitute, this one much younger and still having the shadow of her beauty, “wasn’t raiders that did.” She said it quietly, as if revealing a secret.

“That’s not what they’re saying,” said Ibis, curious now.

“They say a lot, but I know it wasn’t no raiders. It was just made to look like the raiders did it. It was something else that did it.” Said the girl, defensive.

"How would you know." Asked the old whore.

“The raider I know told me, I swear.” said the young prostitute.

“Oh, I am sure the raiders was just saying that to scare you.” Said the old one.

“Raiders like to gloat and brag, they take credit when they don’t deserve it." Said Ibis.

The young girl chimed in, "But this one said it was something else. Weren’t slavers neither, though there seem to be plenty of ‘em these days."

"Don't be silly girl" said the old whore.

"Personally I wouldn’t sleep with one of ‘em, slavers, if it was me.” Said the young prostitute. "But I understand that some of the girls need the business."

The older one hissed at her as a curse.

“Who was this raider to tell you all of this?” Asked Ibis.

“Oh, he’s a regular fella, but he’s staying outside the walls, on account that raiders aren’t so popular with the po-lice.” She said.

"Out past the shopping mall?" Said Ibis.

"Nope, over past the factory a ways."

"I know that place, not very safe though." That corner was known for raiders, but also other nasty varments, even the dreaded deathclaw.

“I think he’s laying low then figures he will get in with a local caravan doing security work. Maybe try to go straight. God knows he can use the money and I am sick and tired of given him free pokes.” She sighed.

Ibis thought this over. “Actually, if you don’t mind taking me to him, I might have some use for such a man. And I’ll pay.”

"Well, I'll take you over there if you want, soon as I'm finished with my shift."

MEANWHILE-

It was impossible for rats to fly. The rats were large, gluttonous things and flew on short golden wings, swarming about, buzzing about his head.

Delusions, thought Grim, I must be having another near death experience, some kind of hallucination.

Death and near dieing had turned out to be not quite Grim had expected.

Everytime he swatted at one of the flying rats, it ducked his hand and buzzed away, then it might dive at him. There were many flying rats, and they buzzed in a loud abrasive way similar to flying cockroaches.

Grim tried to escape but the desert was full of cacti and their thorns were dipped in poison and dug his skin.

He felt a rat thump against his back, near his neck. When he tried to tear it off, he couldn't reach, and could feel its nose and teeth under hs skin.

It's just a dream, part of his mind thought. Just a dream.

One flew down and landed on his face. Grim tried to pull it off, but its claws dug into his skin, and he suddently saw its teeth near his eyes. And then felt the pain.

Through his other eyes, he saw an old man with a cane but with the head of a giant, long beaked bird. "The rat is eating your eyes for all the sin that you have seen."

Grim thought how nice it would be if someone, please, get him to a doctor.
 
Grim thought how nice it would be if someone, please, get him to a doctor.
Click to expand...

OOC: Your wish is my command.

IC: The battle was barely over before Skik started down the tunnel. "He's dying. There's a small shelter down here that should have some medical supplies. Come on!" Skik dashed down the hall with the other three following.

OOC: Sorry this is so short but I think we should get Grim healed before we continue.
 
Doctor???

Gabriel, carrying Grim over his shoulder, was gentler than the others had been when he placed him down. For the first time he inspected the wounds while Skik looked through the med kit.

"This isn' t good. A stimpack might help keep the heart going and might help the wounds to heal, but this stab wound is deep. It needs some stitching."

Rogue alternated between watching Skik and Gabriel and peering down the corridor. "So who's got medical training."

"I do!" Said Skik, looking up from the box, "But its kind of limited to ghouls." The talk of wounds made Skik painfully aware of his own.

The other three shook their heads. It was Caleb, the old gunsman who spoke.

"Don't know much about doctoring, but I have had to do some first aid in the field a few times. Let me have a look." He took the medical supplies from Skik. Tell me what happened.

Skik recounted the action in the sewars leading up to Grim getting speared in the side, while Caleb tried to clean the wound and apply a dressing. It would need stitching and serious doctoring, but if they found medical help Grim should survive. But the infection was worrisome.

Among the bandages, stimulants, anti-tox and other medical supplies, Caleb found a super stim pack and an agent to combat infection.

Bending over Grim, Caleb said, "Now this is going to hurt some, but it will keep you going until we find a doctor." And then he shot Grim's arm with the superstim.

Grim's eyes opened as if had been in a nightmare, and reached for his sidearm.

But his eyes recognized Caleb and then he looked at the familar face of Rogue, and then at Skik. His arms felt leadened and his mind groggy, but it beat dealing with flying rats from hell.

"Well it's a good thing we found you Blade." Grim smiled.

"Shut up will ya, at least until we patch you up."

"Is it bad?"

"It's not healthy. This fellow says you need a doctor." Caleb said, indicating the newcomer.

"I see. ANd who the hell might you be? and might I ask what are you doing in the sewars?"

"I could ask you the same." said Gabriel.

"yes, you could, and my reasons are standing in front of you, who I hope you have met." Said Grim, indicating Skik and Rogue.

"You talk to much Grim." said Rogue. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"Is Wally still available or has he left?" Asked Grim to Rogue and Skik. "And incidently, what ever happened to Fang and his friends?"

Caleb continued to bandage the bounty hunter, wrapping a good battle dressing around the wound Grim's abdomen. "Can you walk."

Slowly Grim got to his feet, holding the wall, "I can try."

Grim checked his weapons. The pistols were still in order, and there was ammunition for both.

He turned his attention on the others, "what's going on?"

_
Rogue- if you are going to tell you story you might want to PM with Fang.
 
OOC- Ok....i've PM Fang...hopefully i will get a reply soon and will be able to post soon, if all fails then i have a backup post that i allready created, but hopefully i wont have to walk that path!

Hmmm...maybe this should have been posted in the OOC thread. I'll make sure i post there from now on with OOC posts of this type.
 
OOC- Guys, its all up to you on any ideas for getting our characters out of the sewers. Me, I’d just have them gun their way out but that would be difficult since Caleb, Rogue, and Skik are out of ammo. So go ahead with any thoughts at all in getting out of the sewers. Feel free to take control of Caleb.

As for me, well I think it would be a good idea for the other plot to progress. What’s up with the recent surge of slavers? What are they doing in Tabis? What really happened to the Blades? I think Neil Andrasta can answer some of those questions.

IC-

“Talk, you filthy bastard!” Neil shouted as he struck the slaver across the face. The slaver’s head careened backwards by the blow, the rest of his body almost falling over if not for the restraints keeping him in his chair.

The slaver’s head rolled down to his chest like a limp mannequin. His face was bloody and bruised. The imprint of Neil’s knuckles lined his cheeks and throat, forming an ugly tattoo of pain. The slaver’s lips were cut open and several knocked out teeth littered the floor. His right eye had swollen closed and he looked like he was permanently squinting.

“Please!” the slaver mumbled. But the words were so distorted from swollen cheeks and a lose jaw, his words came out sounding like, “Pweese!” He spat out a mess of blood and teeth.

Neil was pacing the floor and now he stopped. The cop folded his arms in front of the slaver. The sleeves of his work shirt were rolled up, revealing powerful muscles, and his tie was pulled down. Neil shook his head no. “I’m not going to stop until you talk.” Then, Neil’s hand shot out like a bullet and closed onto the slaver’s throat. “So talk!”

The slaver began gagging, his left eye bulging madly to compensate for his swollen eye. The ruined lips worked out to form breathless words. Fueled by a sudden burst of energy, the slaver tried to vainly wiggle out of his seat.

Neil’s face was calm and creaseless, an expression of indifference as he watched the scum begin to die in front of him. The sergeant had been “questioning” the slaver for two hours now and he had received no answers. The cheap fuck had been holding back valuable information, information that could save his town. Neil was perfectly fine with killing the slaver.

But then came Frank’s warning voice. “Neil…” he said, trailing off to imply warning. “This isn’t due process. This is illegal.”

Neil’s jaw worked about as if he was swallowing a bitter pill. Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and the slaver took deep and retching breaths. Bent over in his chair, the slaver looked at Frank with gratitude.

Neil also turned around to look at Frank but his visage was filled with anger. “Goddammit, Frank. This bastard doesn’t deserve the law. Nobody would care if I killed him.”

Frank, who had been sitting in his own chair off to the corner of the room, now stood up. From up until now, the chief had been silent throughout the “interrogation”. His pudgy face was pale and he looked like he would vomit.

“It doesn’t matter,” replied Frank, wiping off his sweating brow with a handkerchief. “We don’t discriminate against anyone. Not even against slavers.”

Neil shook his head with a wry grin. “Those are nice ideals, Frank. You can expect your kids to swallow that bull but I won’t. It’s a cutthroat world here, Chief.”

Frank was silent for a while. He looked at the slaver indifferently then turned back to Neil. “Maybe you should take a break, Neil,” he suggested. “Let me take over, how about?” The chief’s town made his words into a command, not a true suggestion.

Neil threw up his arms, exasperated. “Fine!” he said in disgust. “Go ahead and paper that little shit. Maybe you can wipe his ass for him, too!”

“That’s enough,” came Frank’s voice, dangerously low. “Take a break, Neil.”

Without another word, Neil sat down on the same seat as the chief was sitting on. The slaver regarded the sergeant fearfully and Neil glowered back at him. You little shit, thought Neil.

“You aren’t going to get a word out of him,” Neil murmured. He reached into his pant pockets and took out a pack of cigarettes and a steel Zippo. Lighting up, Neil kept his eyes pinned on the slaver. If looks could kill, the slaver would be dead now.

“You let me worry about that, Neil.” The chief gestured at the slaver’s ruined face. “You’ve done enough for today.”

Frank walked over to the slaver and folded his arms across his stout chest. The chief was a short man, almost a dwarf, and his balding forehead and stubby fingers only aided his diminutive size. The slaver was sitting down but he was still almost eye level with Frank. But, the chief of the Tabis police could still emit a feeling of authority.

The chief sighed deeply, taking a look at the slaver and shaking his head. “Son,” he began, in a fatherly tone, “you’re in a load of shit. Hell, you’re about wading up to your armpits in shit.”

The slaver tilted his head pitifully up to look Frank in the eye. “I kin see dat,” he mumbled in a broken voice.

Frank only shook his head. “No, I don’t think you do, son. See, you’re a slaver. Slavers aren’t the most popular folks in Tabis. You’ll be luck if you aren’t crucified on the spot once we try you in a court of law.”

The slaver was silent, only looking at his feet.

“But at this rate,” continued Frank, “you’ll be lucky if my friend, Neil, doesn’t tear off your head.” Frank waved Neil over. “Come over here, Sergeant Andrasta.”

Neil stood up theatrically, flexing his muscles as he stood up. Frank was playing the good-cop-bad-cop routine and Neil was obliging to play the bad cop role. He walked forward slowly and threateningly, wisps of smoke trailing from his cigarette.

“A lot of people are pissed of at you, son,” said Frank, gesturing to Neil. “Mainly my sergeant, here. You’re only acquainted with his fists. Meet Sergeant Neil Andrasta, top cop of the Tabis police force. Neil, you’ve got what? Fifty confirmed kills in your five years here?”

“Forty-nine,” corrected Neil. He grinned savagely at the slaver. “But I think number fifty will be coming up soon.” Neil cracked his knuckles for demonstration.

Frank nodded sagely. He placed a fatherly hand on the slaver’s shoulders. “So what’s it going to be son? You can tell us where the rest of the slavers are and maybe get life in jail. Or you can keep quiet and my friend Neil will beat you into a messy pulp. You call the shot, boy.”

The slaver stared up at Neil and took a shuddering breath. He mumbled something underneath his breath.

“What was that? Speak up, son.”

“I said they’re in the warehouse!” exploded the slaver. “The rest of the slavers are in the warehouse in that junkyard.” Then the slaver burst into bitter tears.

Frank exchanged worried glances with Neil before turning his attention back to the slaver. He patted him on the back consoling, “You did the right thing, son.”

The slaver was bent over, wracking with tears. “Just don’t hurt me anymore.”

Frank nodded to Neil and the pair went to the door to leave. As they opened the door, the slaver looked up and shouted, “Freakin’ pigs!” His cries were choked with bitter tears. The two cops left the room, closing the door behind them.

Once they were outside, Neil cursed, “Shit! Goddammit!” The powerful cop slammed his fist into the drywall.

“Calm down!” barked Frank. “You’ve done enough with your fists for today, Neil.”

Neil only shook his head. “Goddammit, I hate this Frank. This week has just been hell and it ain’t getting better.”

“You gotta keep cool. You’re a cop, Neil. You’re used to this sorta thing.”

“I know, but they’re in the goddamned warehouse! The same one the fucking raiders were in last time. Don’t you remember? There was a literal army of raiders waiting at its gate. And now it’s the slavers! How the hell are we going to stand up to that?”

Frank rubbed his chin in thought. “From what I hear, there was a Blade and a few of his friends that fought their way out.”

That only incensed Neil even further. “Oh, come on, Frank! There is no fucking Blade. Hell, its just mass hysteria. The people were making up that story. They wanted a fucking hero.” Neil should know. He had been assigned to hunt down this mysterious Blade for questioning. If he could not hunt down the Blade, than that Blade did not exist.

“Even so, I want you to investigate this matter. This might be our chance to stomp out the slaver infestation right now.” Frank slammed his fist into his palm to illustrate his point.

Neil’s jaw dropped. “You want me to take out a whole slaver camp by myself? Are you insane?”

“Of course not! I don’t even want you to engage them at all. We need you alive. Just recon the area and assess the situation. Play it cool, man. I’ll send a SWAT squad when you’re clear. Hell, you can take Paul with you for help.”

“Why you giving me Paul? I thought you needed me alive?”

“Ha-ha-ha,” said Frank tonelessly. “Just bring him along. He needs the experience.”

Neil sighed, resigned for a restless night. “Alright than. Wish me luck, Frank.”

“Good luck, Neil.”

Neil went back to the top floor and into the bullpen. Moving through the neatly placed uniform desks, he pushed past a few of the nightshift to the communications room. A gigantic, old-fashion radio system dominated the room along with a more diminutive young man wearing headphones with his feet propped up on the expensive system.

“Paul!” Neil shouted.

The young man dropped his feet, looking behind him with a guilty face. On seeing Neil framed at the door, he only scowled. “What do you want, Neil? Break something again?”

“Naw, the chief has an important job for me and he said I could bring along a monkey to do the hard work. Let’s get going rookie.”

Paul took off his headphones, setting them over the radio. “But whose gunna man the machinery?”

“Screw it, Paul, let someone else worry about it. We’ve got some slavers to deal with.” Neil looked at his watch and tapped his feet impatiently.

“I better get some overtime for this,” muttered Paul as he followed Neil.

The two cops made their way to the stations army. There, a treasure trove of lethal implements awaited in safe boxes and lockers. Neil opened a footlocker and took out a pair of Remington 870 pump-actions, handing them to Paul. The gangly young man fumbled with the shotguns, managing to keep them in his grip. For good measure, Neil set a box of shells on top of the shotguns.

Paul whistled. “Shotguns, eh? A little crowd control, Neil?”

Still digging around, Neil said, “Yeah, you could say that. We got a warehouse of slavers to whack.”

“What?!” exclaimed Paul, nearly dropping the guns. He blanched visibly.

“Don’t worry about it, rookie. After all, you’ve got Blue Boy One to back you up.”

“I better get paid some really good overtime for this,” muttered Paul again, throwing a dark look at Neil.

Finally, after much digging, Neil came up with a pair of silver Desert Eagles. “Ah!” he exclaimed with delight. “Israel’s finest handgun! Who needs a rifle when you have a handcannon that can blow through the side of tank?” Neil shoved the gun into his holdout holster, placing two eight-round clips in his back pocket. He took one of the Remingtons and handed Paul the other Desert Eagle. “Let’s get a move on, rookie.”

Armed to the teeth, Neil Andrasta and Paul Cartwright left the station to fight against unbeatable odds.
 
OOC- Ok, sorry about the delay with this.
The following is the account of what happeend to Fang from Rogues side, a more in-depth version and explanation will come fom Fang once he gets cought back up.

IC-

“Fang?” Rogue exclaimed looking down as she became aware that she hadn’t seen the warrior since the raiders attack on the ghoul outpost.
“I last saw the slayer at my side repulsing the raiders attack,” Rogue answered with a sound of concern on her voice, “They were too many, we were over powered even with the help of the other slayers.”
"We fought those bastards for as long as we could, hope of saving the ghoul sanctuary was beyond our defense though." Rogue sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing with her account of the fight.

“After the first and second wave of raiders, it became visible the damage they had caused to our numbers, people were dead around me, one of the slayers positioned next to Fang was down, another injured. Ghouls layed injured and dying as there comrades tryed to help them."
We were forced to pull back as they broke through our last line, sending our people scattering through the sewers like frightened animals.”
“As we fled, i got seperated from Fang and what was left of the slayers group due to the frenzy and panic in our ranks, unavoidably being rushed down separate paths. That moment was the last that i saw of Fang."

Rogue had followed the ghouls fleeing in the same direction as her, guarding the rear from the raiders; they had led her to another smaller location. Here she was able to re-supply with ammunitions and the neccesary's to venture back into the depths of the sewers.
The ghouls didn’t stay put long, only enough time to re-stock and then get the hell out of there with their lives.
They moved out, Rogue had bid them farewell and good look, but explained she had to return through the sewers to find the others.

Rogue then spent a number of hours lurking in the darkness of holes, trying desperately to avoid the extensive raider patrols that now had a free run of the fallen ghoul complex and sewers.

“After some hours of hiding, the raiders began to leave, I could hear them talking, rumours that something had happened above in Tabis.” Rogue having been in hiding in the sewers for some time now, wondered what was happening up above in the streets. She longed to feel the hot sun on her face and to see the light of a new born day began.

“As I waited, cramped and hidden in the shadows and darkness, the raiders were becoming less and less, eventually the sewers had returned to their usual silent selves,” Rogue said turning to face Grim and the others, now aware that they were staring bluntly at her.

"From there i follwed what path through the sewers i could remember untill i was passed by a shifty looking group of people; the slavers, which i followed to you location." Rogue explained.

“That’s how I came to be in the right place to save your sorry ass.” She smiled.

OOC- sorry this isnt any longer, but i was kinda stuck on what to say. As for wally, i do beleave he went with caleb.
 
Gabriel listened to Rogues' story, his interest was caught by the mention of Fang. Though not famous, Fang had achieved a reputation within the Order and Slayers in the area would know a little of his exploits.

"So there's a chance Fang is alive?" the tall assassin asked.

"I didn't see him die." answered Rogue, laconically. Gabriel took that as a yes.

"Wearing all that power-armour makes you feel invincible. Never consider some punk with a rifle could get you. That's what makes Slayers fight so hard. They always think they'll win." Gabriel stretched his shoulders as he spoke. Damn, that bounty hunter, Grim, sure was heavy.

"Never think you are going to lose. If you think that, you get a little closer to losing before you even start." commented Caleb, wisely. Gabriel nodded.

"Enough talk, though. Unless you want to end up as rat food, we should head topside now." he paused, turning to face Caleb, "I only came down here to find you. I don't want this little jaunt in the depths of Tabis to be any longer than necessary."

Caleb looked puzzled for a moment,
"How did you know I'd be down here?" he asked.

"I followed you earlier. You didn't notice me. You were too busy following your own mark. I've been wondering who that might have been. Even I couldn't get a bead on him, he kept flitting from one shadow to another and I never got a good look at him." Gabriel's cold eyes stared into Caleb's, he noticed how surprisingly similar their eyes were.

Caleb's hands moved, almost imperceptibly towards the weapons strapped to his body,

"Why were you following me, boy?" asked the angry gunfighter.

"I wanted to know what would make you come back to Tabis after all the troubles that had necessitated a hasty exit, for you and your friends." Gabriel smiled. "I did not realise how may of you were still here. Intelligence isn't quite what it used to be. Nuclear war can play merry hell with the flow of reliable information." Gabriel looked at the assembled group of tenacious fighters, "Now I know why you came back." he paused, hoping Caleb wasn't going to try and kill him. The Blade was cool and difficult to read, so Gabriel was unsure that revealing things this early had been a spectacularly good idea.

Too late for regrets now, he thought.
"Now, Grim, patched up as you are, I think it wise we try to leave this place. It is rife with pestilence, so we should seek cleaner air and hopefully a doctor." his jaw tightened as he considered the plight of those above ground, "Though I fear finding an unoccupied doctor in Tabis, tonight, will prove very difficult."

Gabriel again moved forward, taking point, relying on his excellent nightvision to guide them back to the water treatment facility.

He just hoped there were no more slavers following them through the dank tunnels.
 
Finally out of the sewars/ The ruined fort

OOC- Ok, I am going to take us out of the sewars, and create a new situation ripe for a bit of tension. Also this opens a bit of movement, indivdiually for Skik and Rogue as well as a necessary converstion between Gabriel and Caleb. For now the Slavers are not a problem.

ICC"Hey, stop trying to carry me, I can walk." Complained Grim as Gabriel tried to pick him up.

"Alright, but we would move quicker this way."

"Yes, but it wouldn't be good for the wounds either." said Grim.

But Gabriel had already moved down the tunnel to take point.

Skik watched the young man take the point and walk a half a dozen steps down the tunnel, without following.

Skik didn't spend much time with smoothskins. He found them generally foolish and useless to his needs, save for the occassional trinket worth stealing. Unlike ghouls, humies were a contentious and irritable lot, prone more to destroy than work with each other.

But Skik had noticed Gabriel's singlemindedness when it came to Caleb.

As if the others were insignifigant.

Too much bloodletting deadens the senses, maybe. Thought the ghoul.

But it seemed to Skik that Gabriel didn't care if the others lived or died, just as long as Caleb survived. Caleb who had, on more than one occassion, owed his life to his comrades.

Smoothskins, he thought, think they gotta run everything. When they ever goin' learn to ease up on the piss and vinegar. The boy was assertive and wanted to lead.

Ease up, boy, thought the old ghoul. Respect isn't taken, it's got to be earned.

He looked over at the others. Rogue was working a rear guard, and Grim was checking his weapons.

Caleb was eyeing the youngster nervously. There was more to this story and older gunslinger might have been peeved that the youngster wasn't being all straight with him.

That, or Caleb was pissed that the rugrat thought to take charge.

Either way, it was the humie way to destroy itself in such pissing contests.

Caleb returned the glance at the ghoul and nodded.

Skik cleared his throat, "Ah hmm.... you're going the wrong way. I know a place topside that we can hold up while we get a doctor, but its this way."

Gabriel turned back. "Then lead on."

Time distorts in the darkness of the tunnels. An alien landscape to most humies, they were easy lost or confused in the sewars. The ghouls had often found humies in the tunnels who had gone half mad, and who were later intergrated with the ghoul collective.

Ghouls were best kept underground, was an old ghoul saying, and underground is where they belonged.

But being underground for the humies was like being buried alive.


They traveled for less than an hour, but to the humans it seemed to be much longer. They saw little, reluctant to light torches they relied more on sound to find their way. Of the slavers, they heard nothing. Perhaps the slavers had abandoned their prey, or perhaps they had only retreated to lick their wounds before returning to finish them.

Eventually Skik led the group to a narrow tunnel. Rogue and Skik easily squeezed through first, but Grim, Caleb and Gabriel had more trouble moving through the tight fit.

The tunnel led to deep basement which had a high cathedral like ceiling. Now it was more like a deep pit under the floor of a ruined house. The basement was empty save for flakes of old newspapers, boxes and the small sytrofoam S's used for packing that Ghouls often found curious and which Ghoul children would play with. A narrow circular stairway was in a corner of the room and went up about about 20 feet to a caged door.

The floor of the ground floor was composed of rotting wood and had collapsed in places, leaving large holes.

Skik lead the wounded group up the stairs and into the house. They stepped carefully, the floor soft underfoot. The house was a two story building but most of the ceiling had been ripped apart and there was no roof. A stairway went up from the first floor to what was left of the second floor. It was if something had sheared off half the second floor, and had carried it away.

Grim found a secure place to sit down and eased himself down, as Caleb bent to inspect the wounds while Rogue and Gabriel inspected their position and Skik looked through some old cabinets and lockers for provisions and supplies. Whereever there had been windows or door ways, had been sealed up with concrete or mortar. The door way had been replaced with a thick metal door. Even the walls had been reinforced with mortar and brick.

Rogue took to the second floor. The walls pointing out were circled by razor wire which was tied up to a generator that was long since dead. Pointing out were stakes, nails, and razor blades and other sharp implements.

Everything around the building for about 50 meters had been cleared away except for an old graveyard and the spirals of twisted metal that looked like ruined monkey bars. There were graves everywhere, scattered without organization or symmetry. Grave stones and wooden crosses poked out of the ground in odd angles over burial mounds sunk with erosion. There was a sign, knocked over, that read "Warning Mines". On the south side were the stumps of trees. It made a macabre killzone.

Beyond that, Rogue could see ruined and skeletal buildings, mostly low residences. There was no movement that Rogue could perceived, and yet, Rogue could feel a heavy sense of presence. There was something out there.

Gabriel climbed up to join her. "What is this place?" Asked Gabriel.

"Some kind of fort I reckon, from shortly after the war perhaps." Suggested Rogue.

"Fort, yes, it was a Fort." Said Skik. from below. Like most, ghouls had remarkable hearing. "Used to be a house, and around us was a park. Used to be trees, playground. Humies and Ghouls together, once a long time ago. Humies all dead though. Ghouls escaped. "

"What was their opposition?" asked Gabriel.

"Monsters. Big Monsters. Giant, clawed beasties. Well that's what they tell me. Like some giant mutant lizards. Lots of em'. That's what they say, but it was before my time. I reckon it was Deathclaw." Nodded Skik. There was no food in the building.

"Surely they could have killed the death claw from here." Said Gabriel.

"From here, a yep, but no food see. Got to go out. Out there. Out where the Deathclaw is home. People go out, but few come back. AH here's some Ammo" Skik was shaking a box of shotgun shells.

"Did they finally manage to escape." Asked Rogue.

"The ghouls, yes. The humies, didn't like to go underneath. They stayed here, died here." Skik had found some old medical supplies and had brought them to Caleb.

"And the deathclaws?" Asked Gabriel.

"Yep. I reckon they all gone now. No food means no reason to stay, and Deathclaws like to eat. And no one ever comes out this way. Too dangerous. Folks remember. Folks in Tabis tell their children stories to make 'em behave. 'Behave or I'll take you to see Mr. Deathclaw in Lee Park" Said Skik.

Caleb listened to Skik's story, but focused on Grim. The bandages around Grim's torso were stained red. He was still bleeding and the bandages would need to be changed. Caleb was also worried about infection. Caleb then inspected Skik's wounds. Ghouls were not the strongest creatures, but they could take incrediable punishment. Skik would need to have his wounds looked at eventually, but for now he would be fine.

"I don't like this, being holed up here." Said Gabriel. "I feel like a rat in a trap."

"Well if you can get that generator working..." Said Skik.

"We don't have energy cells." Said Rogue.

"Oh, well don't matter. Chances are you'll be ok. Deathclaw would have a tough time breaking through here. It's pretty secure." Said Skik.

"But what if they climb?" Said Gabriel.

"They'd have to come up through the mines and the wire. Besides, why would they come. Ain't been humies here in a long time. Probably Deathclaws all gone."

Rogue wasn't buying it. "Do they have any ammunition."

"Yep. some ghouls keep a bit of shells here just in case." Skik tapped a military footlocker.

Caleb, who had been thoughtful, finally spoke. "Our priority now is to find a doctor. Grim and Skik are pretty hurt, but we all have some wounds. What about Wally?"

Skik spoke up. "I might be able to find him. But it might take a while."

Grim nodded, "If you can get in touch with Yacob over at the Rusty Nail saloon, he might be able to get us in touch with a doctor. You can trust Yacob. And if he asks about the the debt I owe him, tell him that I am working on getting him a deathclaw."

"He wants a deathclaw? For what?" Asked Rogue.

But Grim only shrugged. "Yacob's my local contact. You can trust him and his brother. Besides he was supposed to fetch me a wagon and is probably wondering what has taken so long."

"Alright, then who goes?" Asked Caleb.

"I reckon I got to or you'll get lost underneath, unless you want to out through the graveyard." Said Skik.

"I'll go" said Gabriel.

"No, I think it better you stay here. We need to talk." Said Caleb. "Rogue, you ready for it?"

She nodded.

"I know the place, and can get you pretty close." Said Skik to Rogue as they decended down into the basement. "and don't worry none. Deathclaws don't like the smell of the sewars."

And then Rogue and Skik disappeared into the sewars, leaving Caleb, Gabriel and Grim alone in the ruined fortress surrounded by the dead.
 
IC-

Caleb hated this. Being caged in, even in a fortified fortress, still set him on edge. There was little room to roam. It was too confining, too restrictive. But it was way better than the sewers.

The Blade moved farther away into the park where he could find some solitude. Grim was in the house, recovering from his wounds. The blood loss and injuries had taken their toll and the bounty hunter was now fast asleep. Stimpacks encouraged bloodclotting and pumped a bit of adrenaline to keep the patient from dying of shock but they could only do so much. While Rogue was off to find a doctor, Grim was clinging to life by a slim measure.

Caleb moved further off into the depths of the park. In the midnight twilight, with the moon glowing eerily in the sky, the park looked daunting and frightening. The trees became silhouettes of shadowed assassins and the playground seemed like mangled gun barrels.

Over-imagination could become the rational person’s bane. Caleb could admit that he was not at the top of his game right now. Running away from Death, always certain It would embrace him in Its icy touch, had that effect on Caleb. He withdrew within himself, recovering from the ordeal. In this unlikely sanctuary, Caleb did not necessarily feel safe. The slavers were still looking for them. He carried his guns just in case.

The Blade sauntered over to the children’s playground. It overlooked the graveyard and he wondered how the children had responded with that deathly reminder in their place of play. Caleb crested a hill towards the silent swings and rusty bars. The Blade collapsed next to the base of the swing with a deep groan. The weather was cold and his bones ached with arthritis. He raised a hand to cup his eyes but noticed that they were involuntarily shaking. Caleb lowered it in disgust.

Caleb reached into his poke and began rolling a cigarette. The earthy smell of tobacco overlapped the sharp tang of grassy dew. He lit the cigarette with a match, a single ember of light amidst darkness. Smoke fumed cheerily towards the sky.

Relaxed now, Caleb took a few moments to assess his surrounding. The park they were hiding in still seemed like the ancient battlefield it had been converted to. If Caleb had the time, he would set up a few towers and erect a rude breastwork surrounding the fort. But this was just a mere respite and Caleb did not plan on staying. Besides, the fort had done little good even at its original state against deathclaws. Caleb noted grimly that there were many scratches against the playground bars.

The Blade pitched his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. He got up, getting ready to return to the house, when he heard the telltale crunch of footsteps. Someone was coming towards him.

Caleb’s heart thundered in his chest and he froze up, his eyes alit with fear and his hands shaking horribly. Then he swallowed, forcing down the fear. He was a Blade, damn it, and it was time he started acting like one. Unlimbering his Winchester, Caleb climbed up the ladder of a slide and scanned the perimeter from his minor vantage point.

A bulky shadow was coming towards him. Caleb lined up his sights, tightening his finger on the trigger. He waited for the figure to get closer.

The silhouette walked into the premise of the playground. The moonlight shone on the figures face and, with their identity revealed, Caleb sighed in relief. The pent up feeling of stress dripped out of his bones, leaving only annoyance.

“Boom!” he shouted, thrusting the rifle towards the figure, mock firing it.

It was Gabriel. The young man jumped up in surprise, involuntarily clutching his chest in surprise. He scanned the area and locked his sight on Caleb, waiting there on top of a children’s slide with a rifle aimed at him.

Caleb clicked his tongue in disapproval. “That was sloppy. If I had been a slaver sniper, you’d be dead by now.” He lowered his rifle, strapping it across his back, and climbed down the steps to meet up with Gabriel.

Gabriel smiled uncertainly. The grin was strained at his cheeks and his eyes did not smile with his lips. He was on edge, too.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if I was in power armor, old man. Besides, I knew you were out here somewhere.” Though the young man was smiling, he was trying to justify himself to Caleb, just a bit too hard.

Caleb shook his head. “That’s your first mistake. Assumption. Thinking you know better than the enemy will get you killed quickly. Your second mistake is reliance on the power armor. Your gear is only as good as you are. That’s a free lesson, kid.” The Blade turned around and began walking towards the house.

Gabriel caught up with him, matching his stride. The pair walked in an uncomfortable silence for a bit. Caleb waited for what would come next.

“You know,” began Gabriel, “ I can handle myself. You’re just going to have to trust me if we’re working together.” He attempted to sound aloof but there was a trace of reprimand in it.

That caused Caleb stopped in his steps. The young man turned around to face him. Caleb thrust a blunt fingertip into Gabriel’s chest, saying, “That’s just the thing, kid. I don’t trust you.”

Gabriel looked surprised but a bit suspicious also. Caleb could read it in his eyes. “W-what do you mean?” asked Gabriel, his voice shrill with indignation.

“I mean you showing up just in the nick of time, hero. Don’t think I didn’t know you were trailing me. I felt you all along. And there’s something just not right about you.”

“You being paranoid,” stated Gabriel, as if he was calmly negotiating with a madman.

Caleb grinned savagely. “Am I? We’ve been shot at ever since we’ve walked into the sewers and you just show up out of the blue and take lead. I wonder where you would have taken us if Skik didn’t change our course. I think you have a motive here.”

“Look, I don’t have to take this, old man. I’m helping you out here. I’m doing you a favor!” Gabriel threw up his hands. “If you can’t see that, than no wonder the raiders were able to lick you so easily.” The young man blinked rapidly after this sentence and he cursed underneath his breath. He had revealed too much.

Caleb’s eyes widened. “What do you know about the raiders, boy?”

But Gabriel did not reply. Instead he reached for something behind his back.

But Caleb was faster. The Blade took a step back and his revolver materialized into his hand. He placed the tip of the barrel underneath Gabriel’s chin.

“I want answers, young blood,” Caleb whispered menacingly. “And if you give me any wrong ones, you’d better get used to living without a head on your shoulders.”

The Blade kept his gun pointed at the young man, awaiting his answers.
 
OOC- Wonderful intergroup tension. Gabriel is going to come up with something fast, and Rogue and Skik are on their own. Let's see what we can add.

ICC-

It hadn't been the first time that ghouls had used the old fort. On occassion, when the ghouls had to reach a secured position on the surface, the fort had seemed suitable for ghoul needs. Easily defendable, out of the way, rarely disturbed, and with a ready built defense.

As for deathclaws, personally Skik had never seen any, nor had any of the other ghouls made much mention of recent death claw sightings.

But the ghouls rarely used the fortress. And never at night.
To the Wainright Park corner of the ruins, no one ever came at night.

Deathclaws own the night.

Had the ghouls spent more time topside, they might have noticed a few oddities. Like the occassional long deep scratches on the walls, as if a large creature were marking its territory.

They might have noticed collections of branches and garbage in piles that looked, vaguely, like animal nests.

And they might have noticed the broken eggs in the corners and basements of houses where ghouls had little reason to venture.

Had the ghouls been more inquisitive into Wainright Park they might have discovered an odd fact of the Wastes.

Deathclaws have sensitive noses.

They might have also come to realize that Deathclaws don't like how ghouls smell.

Whether it was because deathclaws didn't like the stink of sewar waste or the rotting leperous skin, would remain a mystery.

But the ghouls would have realized that they don't attract deathclaws. At least not like humans.

The wind blew in from the east, and with it the wind carried the scent of blood and human tissue. Had there been packs of wild dogs, the dogs would have been attracted. Those in the house would have probably heard the snarls and yelps of hungry dogs.

But there were no dogs. They'd all been eaten.

Perhaps some of the giant rats that inhabit the ruins of Tabis might have been attracted.

But not even the giant rats ventured near Wainright park. Deathclaws ate them too.

In fact, because so little ventured into Wainright Park, many of the Deathclaws had been forced to move. Food was scare and deathclaws are nothing if not predatory.

Those that didn't leave often ate each other.

There were always plenty more Deathclaw, and so the strongest survived.

But with out the bark of the dog or the hiss of the rat, the humans inside the makeshift fort were otherwise unaware of the hunger that had awaken around them. For the deathclaws were seasoned hunters, those that survived lived only because they knew how to hunt and kill each other.

And so they hunted in silence and shadow.

The blood carried in the wind awoke their instinctive hunger. The smell of the others affirmed that prey had arrived.

And by ones and twos, the deathclaws came to Wainright Park. Hiding in the buildings they waited and they watched, as their numbers grew.

When the need arises, Deathclaws can, like wolves or sharks, be pack animals. They would fight amongst themselves over the spoils later after the kill.

So they waited for the moment to strike, and the strike would be like the crack of lightning.

ANd so neither Caleb nor Gabriel were aware of what jeopardy they were in as the deathclaw watched as the old gunslinger drew his pistol beneath the young assassins chin.

And the time for waiting reached its final moment.

OOC-
Ok, I hope you don't mind this development. Reaper this is a chance for your character do show some whip ass melee fighting.

Rogue and Skik, this is a chance for your characters to develop the plot as well.
 
OOC- This will get Rogue and Skik moving along.

IC-


Rogue followed Skik, sticking close to the ghoul as not to lose him. This place was bad enough without being lost to add to the misery Rogue thought to herself.
At that she picked up her pace as to catch the ghoul up who was moving quickly at this point. Rogue brought her self to Skiks side and matched his pace,

“Do you think the raiders are still down here?” Rogue asked.

Skik gave a shrug and paused for thought, “Dunno, maybe we beat them down enough for them to reconsider there plans.” Skik replied increasing his pace, “Best not hang around here to find out.”
Rogue, smiling, matched the ghouls pace once again, his words offered little comfort but it was better than nothing.

Skik lead the pair through a maze of different tunnels, turning constantly into different paths, Rogue, who had been trying to memorize the path back in case of trouble had given up now and was mindlessly following Skik.

They moved in silence in order to avoid any unwanted attention, Skik talking only to inform Rogue of where they were in the maze of pipes and tunnels.
Rogue slowed her pace, stopping and turning around she stared blankly into the darkness. Skik stopped noticing Rogue was no longer following, he turned to face the girl.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I don’t know, for a second there I felt a presence, it was cold... watching... willing me to it.” Rogue shuddered coldly, she felt suddenly chilled, as if she was alone in the darkness and unwanted eyes were upon her.

Skik levelled his rifle into the blackness, his senses working in overload, he strained to hear anything.

“The darkness can play mind games with ya, make you hear and see things that aren’t there.” He whispered softly to Rogue. “We should get moving.”

Rogue glanced one last time, peering in to the gloomy silence but the presence was gone.
She said nothing to Skik, but the presence had felt sickly familiar to her, a feeling she had longed wished to forget.
Suppressing her fear, she pulled her attention away from the darkness and turned to face Skik, he smiled back to her, “We should get moving, nothing down here but darkness and gloom, come, stay close.” He said reassuring Rogue she had nothing to worry about. He however wasn’t sure, reluctant to say so, he too had felt the shivering feeling of something dark watching him, willing him towards it, playing with his mind.

Moving quickly now as though being perused by an unknown stalker, the two reached their destination. A small and rusty ladder that looked older than Skik did, lead up to a small opening, small particles of light were penetrating into the dark from the top of the pipe, before disappearing into the pitch black cold of the sewers around them.
Skik pointed to the sewer exit, “This will lead you out near the inn, from here you should be able to locate Yacob without too much problem.”

Skik placed his hand on Rogue's shoulder “If he doesn’t believe what you say to him, tell the ol codger that Skik sent you. I have dealt will him before and anyone who knows that name is a friend of the ghouls.”

“Wait,” replied Rogue, “You’re not coming with me?”

Skik laughed, “The site of a ghoul will only draw unwanted problems, you’re a normie, and you can move along with them and go un-noticed.”

“I will stay and try to find Wally, he still alive then he will be some where down here. We ghouls still have some places unknown to other people. I will try there.” Skik said smiling.

"What should i do once i get help?" Rogue asked, pondering on the thought of having to make her way back through the sewers without Skiks knowledge.

"Wait here for me, there should be an abandoned building up there, should be able to hide there till i come. Don't worry, If Wally's still alive, i'll find him fast." Skik answered assuring Rogue.

Rogue nodded, and climbed the ladder, struggling to remove the heavy manhole lid, she climbed out and stood up. Looking around her, she was in a small street enclosed by what looked to be derelict buildings, the city was dark and quite in this area. The wind blowing softly through her hair, whistled as it swirled through the old abandoned buildings.
Rogue took a deep breath taking in the cold night air, relieved to be out of the chilling darkness of the sewers.

She peered down the man hole to where Skik was standing.

“Skik... just becarefull ok!” Rogue said, remembering the cold un natural presence she had felt in the sewers.

Skik grinned, “You to, go fast and quietly, and watch ye back girl.” He said before disappearing into the blackness of the sewers.”

Rogue replaced the lid as to not leave any sign of her exit from the sewers below, lifted the hood of her long coat and placed it over her head.

“Damn.” She cursed to her self, “You do smell like shit.”

Rogue moved of into the street, and made route to Yacobs inn insearch on long needed help.

OOC- Ok....This leads Skik and Rogue down their paths. I'll have the next part or Rogues up tonight with any hope.
 
welcome deathclaw

It was the sound of the long scratch against the concrete wall of the house that woke Grim from his slumber. But it was the powerful musky smell that got h is heart racing. Nothing that lived, having smelled it once, would mistake the origin, nor fear what the smell meant.

Grim froze, and listened to the long hard scratch. Nearby were the medical kit and the foot locker. He could hear vaguely the sounds of Caleb and Gabriel outside the door. He could see the open door into the fortress, and out into the graveyard.

Caleb lecturing, but Grim couldn't see either, or that Caleb had a gun to the young assassin's head.

And Gabriel said, "You know I could break that hand, old man, before you had time to pull a trigger."

"So, this is some kind of showdown isn't it. Maybe if you think you're fast enough."

"You'd be dead before you could blink," Gabriel's voice a cool warning.

Lovely.

"Hey Caleb" Grim called out. The scratching stopped, probably the Deathclaw listening to its prey. "What about that old Blade lesson, you know, the one about old gunslinger who lectured a young firebrand about tactics, while standing in a minefield surrounded by hungry deathclaws? What did he say right before the Deathclaws ate him." As far as Grim could tell the Deathclaw hadn't moved.

"Oh Fuck." Caleb said, so softly, Grim could barely hear it.

Outside, near the old slide and swingset, Caleb felt the a cold tickle down his back, but kept his gun under Gabriel's chin.

Low on ammunition, no heavy weapons.

And he became painfully aware of how far the two warriors had to run for the door.

They'd never make it. Gabriel's eyes hadn't lost their coolness, but even Caleb noted the new tension in the young man's hands. A tension that hadn't been there when Caleb had put the gun under his head.

This youngster is one cool customer.

Inside Grim got a quick look inside the military foot locker as he reached first for stimpacks and then the Pscyho. Psycho was highly addictive and breaking the addiction would be no fun, but then, neither would be getting eaten by a pack of hungry deathclaws.

Inside the locker, Grim saw small arms shells, some grenades, and an old flamer.
 
Mr Ibis meets Nick

MEANWHILE IN TABIS-

The young prostitutes name was Nancy, but her working name was Fantasia and for three hours she needed to mind her business at the Wet Pussycat, one of Tabis's busier bordellos.

During that time Ibis had the luxury of taking in Tabis nightlife. He waited, quietly and unobtrusively on the corner with Cerebus, his faithful comrade, trying not to make a nusiance of himself. The town was alive in noise and conversation, people going too and fro. He had forgotten how alive humanity was in all it's desire and greed, happiness and misery.

He listened to the people, was dazzled by the lights, was overwhelmed by what he saw. How long had it been since he had come to town in the evening? Since before he met his wife, and that was a long time now.

Over the noise and excitement, Ibis could smell the embers of the fire burn out. The town would smell of smoke for a few days but soon someone would build atop of Jonesey's premises, and Jonesey would be forgotten. Those that had gathered to salvage the place had been disappointed. The fire had broken the beakers and fire and scorched the materials. Eventually the structure had fallen into iteself and then the basement had collapsed. It would be days before they found Jonesy's blackened corpse.

Yacob and Horus remained to finish up the fire, their night reaching a close. The barmaid was watching the bar, but all the business ahd left as soon as the fire had started and then it had moved over to the casino district. Ibis had told Yacob to take care of the wagon and the pump, and that he would return in a few hours to meet with the one they called Grim. Then he would take Grim out to the massacre of the Blades.

As he waited for Fantasia/Nancy, Ibis tried not to make a nuisance of himself and bought himself a cup of Brahma's milk, which soothed his stomach. After he had finished with the cup he had sat there, with Cerebus, his faithful three headed dog by his side, trying to be inconspicuous. Even so, he was alarmed when more than a few patrons dropped coins in the empty cup. Within an hour he had collected a healthy sum, and had bought another cup of milk.

After three hours of work, Fantasia/Nancy emerged from the bordello. She smiled at the old man and stroked the dog's boxer head, the friendlier of the three, and told Ibis to follow her and tghen she would make the necessary introductions.

Ibis had performed the burial of Nancy's mother some three years ago, and Ibis had taken pity on the 13 year old orphan, and kept the rates cheap. Nancy still remembered the charity just as Ibis remembered the little girl who had quickly been forced to become this woman.

Even after working a long night, the young girl was fast on her feet and Ibis, using his cane, could barely keep up. He relied on Cerebus to keep his focused, as the dog could more readily follow the girl than he could.

It was in the crowded market that he momentarily lost the girl and walked virtually into a brick wall and was knocked backwards to the floor.

It took a few moments to shake his head clear and over come the blurriness.

Above him stood the cop who he had seen previously walk quickly past the fire, was peering down on him. Above him Cerebus was snarling a warning and prepared to pounce.

"If you're alright old man, I suggest you calm your dog down."

"Officer, if my dog meant to harm you, it would be eating your liver by now."

"Maybe but I'd appreciate you calming this three headed mutt before I or my colleague will be required to shoot it down."

Ibis gave a soft whistle, and Cerebus gave a short whine, but then sat on its haunches, still watching the policeman carefully.

"Well, if it isn't Grandpa Death himself, What brings you to town Gravedigger?" Said Neil Andrasta reaching down to the old man.

"I came to put out the fire, as if you cared?"

Nancy, discovering she had lost the old man, had returned only to suffer Paul Cartwright's shake down. Like most cops, Cartwright was under payed and the town accepted that the badge was a license for extraction. Protection money from the cops was par the course, and most prostitutes paid it as just another expense.

"Yeah, saw that. What's the story?" Said Nick, still reaching down to help the old man up. Cerebus growled a warning, but stopped when Ibis 'shished' him.

"Murder, it seems." Said Ibis, taking the offered hand.

"No kidding, there's a lot of that going around these days." Said Neil, who, once Ibis was on his feet, was dusting the old man off.

"You should be careful then, Mr Andrasta, I think the shadow of death is your companion tonight. "

"Yeah, well occupational hazard I guess."

"Yes, especially from those closest to you." Said Ibis.

"Grandpa Death, I ain't some kid you can scare."

"It's not ment to scare but to warn." Said Ibis. "Many rivers run to and from the same source. It pays to be careful these days. You never quite know which ways the currents flow."

"So anyway," Said Neil, such talk sounded like a fortune cookie to him, "what do you know about this murder."

"There was a witness, who saw a man in black leave Jonesy's premises after hours, and there was blood on his garments. I fear the angel of death has walked these streets again."

Paul Cartwright was listening to his. "Oh yeah, the famous man in black. Must be that Blade again."

"No," corrected Ibis, "another witness saw the Blade later, after the fire had begun and just coming into town."

"Ok, so who are these witnesses?" Asked Neil, curious now.

"A boy saw the man, and a junkie saw the Blade."

Paul laughed. "And I assume there's no better corroboration?" Ibis shook his head. "Yeah well the word is that all the Blades are dead."

"Then the word is wrong, the word I hear is that some blades were sold to slavers." Corrected Ibis.

"Old man, you are starting to annoy me." Said Paul.

Nancy/Fantasia hit Paul in the arm. "What's the matter with you, mocking an old man." Cerebus picked up the gesture and growled. A soft whistle from Ibis silenced the big dog again. Paul lightly pushed Fantasia away and gave her a warning look.

"Fantasia, what do you have to do with all of this?" Asked Neil.

"Nothin'" She quickly responded. Too quickly.

Ibis didn't speak.

Neil looked at them both. "What are you paying her for some nocturnal activities, Ibis?"

"You could say that. Even a man my age..."

"Bullshit, you ain't the type." Neil cut him off.

Ibis didn't respond. Neil glanced from Ibis to Fantasia and back again. Something was up.

"Come on Neil, the junkyard calls." Said Paul.

But Neil ignored Paul. "Why you interested in Ibis, Fantasia. He ain't your type and you don't freelance."

"It's personal." She said.

"Your business always personal, but that don't make it legit. How about I take you in and I let the boys question you for awhile. You've been there before, but then you're used to it on your back and rough." Said Neil, the warning clear.

Tabis cops, like most cops, were not above having freebies with the local prostitutes they brought in, and when the suspected the hooker had broken the law it could get rough. Ibis knew it too.

"Nothing illegit here, Andrasta. and if you want some of this, you know where to find me." Fantasia put her hands over her crotch, her own message clear. A quick fuck with Neil was better than a party with the local constables. "Just tell this fuckhole to lay off." Meaning Paul.

But Ibis couldn't shake the memory of the 13 year old girl who had lost her mother and was alone in the world.

"She's taking me to see a friend." Ibis interrupted.

"Why?" Demanded Paul.

"I am not..." protested Fantasia, but Ibis held out his hand to stop her.

"Because he knows something about the massacre of the Blades, and maybe he knows what really happened."

__________
OOC- ok Gunslinger, Neil is your character and I have borrowed him enough. But its your call on what Neil does next.
 
In the silence following the argument, the two men listened to the bestial advance. Scratching, scraping, quiet padding footsteps.

The two men stared into each others' eyes. Neither man willing to back down, the deathclaws an inrritating, terrifying distraction.

"I'm the least of your problems now, Blade." Gabriel's poker face split into a slight smile as he tilted his head toward the sounds. "Not that this little chat wasn't worthwhile but I think we have more important things to deal with."

Only two battle hardened warriors would continue a conversation in light of advancing deathmachines, created by the scariest manufacturer of weapons in history; nature.

"Rush 'em?" asked Caleb.

"I'm game if you are." replied Gabriel, detatching himself from the momentary imposition of being held at gunpoint. Caleb didn't stop him. Drawing his two pistols, the tall assassin moved to stand beside the Blade, who now clasped a heavy revolver in each hand.

"Just a suggestion," came the shout from the door way, "Perhaps you should flee!" Grim stood silhouetted in the frame, leaning heavily against the wood, his injuries still taking their toll.

Caleb and Gabriel looked at one another then back out into the darkness. Gabriel could just make out dim, shifting shapes, moving slowly through the shadows. The Blade, beside him could still only here the beasts but in a few seconds they would emerge into the moonlight.

"I'm faster, I'll lead them away. You run for the door." Gabriel knew that would draw an angry retort but he didn't care. Survival came before manners in these situations.

"Son, don't make me drag you inside." threatened Caleb, still standing stock still beside the young assassin.

The Deathclaw, or deathclaws had stopped moving. Gabriel couldn't tell how many there were, the foliage and the moving shadows obscured everything. He supposed they were confused because their prey had never stood around so long, arguing about what to do.

"Okay, new plan, and this is going to have to be the last one because I think our grace period is just about over." Gabriel looked from Grim in the doorway to the shadowy beasts then over toward the trees opposite the poor haven of the fort. "I go left, to the trees. You go for the door, shooting as you go. Grim!" he called, "You open up as well. Make the fort the least inviting target. I'll be alright out here. As long as it's dark I can see as well as them. I just hope the sun doesn't come up, my sunglasses are in my coat." a chuckle began in his throat but died trying to leave his mouth as the feral killers charged. "Too late to change the plan, Run!" he shouted, taking off away from the fort, realising, perhaps too late that he could have just signed his own death warrant.

Caleb was angry, understandably so. The hot-headed youngblood had taken charge again and run off. Fucking youngens, thought the aging lawman. But the professional in him, combined with a razor sharp survival instinct got his body moving toward the shelter of the fort and Grim.

The gunfighter clicked back the hammers on Regulator and Vindicator and let loose at the speeding beasts. One bullet went wide, but the other smacked leathery flesh, an impressive feat of marksmanship by any normal standards. His hands worked the revolvers' actions like quicksilver, delivering one accurate volley after another.

Grim watched in disbelief as Gabriel disappeared into the night, but knowing that Caleb's survival partly rested on him blasting the advancing beasts the wounded bounty hunter flicked the button on Pycho pack on and felt the instant rush of strength and bloodlust. Pushing away from the doorframe he brought up his two pistols and opened fire. The flamer would have to wait until Caleb was out of the way.

Bullets filled the air as both older men blasted into the night, kicking up dirt and spraying blood as a few of their shots managed to catch the lightning fast creatures. Inhuman growls and grunts confirmed the damage they were doing but Caleb knew it wasn't enough.

One hulking beast immediately took off after Gabriel, disappearing into the shadows after the fleeing assassin, dodging the young man's hasty, inaccurate shots.

The other Deathclaw broke off its pursuit of Gabriel and slowed for a moment as if unsure as to which prey it would prefer. Seeing that Caleb was approaching safety it howled in rage and changed course, arrowing towards the hurrying Blade.

"Out of the way, Grim." called Caleb, but the bounty hunter was pumped up and appeared not to hear him so Caleb stopped firing and charged toward the door and tackled Grim, knocking him back into the fort. Both of them rolled to their feet, the pysho in Grim's system making his serious wound seem like a distant memory. Shaking the momentary bloodlust from his clouded mind, the big bounty hunter threw is weight against the door, slamming it shut.

A moment later the deathclaw hammered into the doorframe, splintering the wood and spiderweb-like cracks appeared in surrouning concrete. Caleb joined Grim at the door and hoped the wall would hold until they could organise a defence.

Gabriel ran for his life.

Never before had he felt such fear. Not fear of death, but fear of meeting something he wasn't sure he could kill.

Gabriel was one of the deadliest men alive. A knifeman without peer and an expert in unarmed combat but against nature's honed killing machines wasn't he just another meal?

He could hear the beast's harsh breathing behind him, closing fast. He fired over his shoulder but heard the bullet smack into a tree trunk. Realising guns were useless now, he holstered them clumsily, his speed making it difficult.

Gabriel sped through the night, another natural born killer following close behind him and it dawned on the assassin just how flawed his plan had been.

Well fuck it, he thought. He was about to skid to halt and face what he was beginning to condider the inevitable, when his unnaturally sharp nightvision allowed him to see the thick branch hanging about ten feet up, some fifteen feet ahead. He had to make it. His brain would accept anything less now and he ran.

Leaping up and grabbing the branch, he felt something whistle past his neck, disturbing the air. Swinging up and over the low bough he dropped the ground in a crouch, landing easily and drew his panga with his right hand and snatched the 8" bowie knife from the bootsheath with his left.

Fear had held him in its grip long enough. Gabriel watched the deathclaw skid to a stop and turn to face him, its bestial face somehow managing to mimic a human look of fury.

Nature had its turn, now Man would take a swing.

Gabriel charged.
 
Neil's Revelation

IC-

Paul quit badgering the whore. “You know something about the Blades?” he asked the old man. With the Desert Eagle stuck jauntily in the waistband of his pants, he was expecting an answer.

Neil only shook his head. This was getting nowhere. Paul’s suggestion of shaking down the local bar was taking too long. “Fuck it, Paul. We ain’t after Blades.” There probably were no Blades. Neil wasn’t interested in chasing down the origins of a fishwife tail.

Paul slung his arm around the counter of the bar, his hand just barely clenching onto Ibis thin, bony arm. The dog, Cerebus, growled threateningly. “Just asking a simple question, partner.”

“You leave him alone!” shouted Fantasia, slapping Paul’s hand off Ibis. “Don’t you pigs have more important things to do than rough up an old man?”

Paul looked as if he would have slapped her across the face but Neil cleared his throat meaningfully. “She’s right. We do have better things to do.” Neil tapped his cheap, metal wristwatch impatiently.

His partner turned to face Neil. “Yeah, but this might be a lead!” protested Paul.

“Screw it, it ain’t our assignment. We’re after slavers, here.” Neil sat up from his bar seat and left the bar, leaving Paul alone with the hooker and old man.

The younger cop stayed put for a second. Then he pointed a threatening finger at the both of them. “You two stay out of trouble. I catch you on the streets, your asses go straight to jail.” Paul stormed out of the bar.

He caught up with Neil. The sergeant was trudging towards the junkyard right now. They walked in silence.

The fire was finally going out. Noxious smoke was still churning above the town but its source had been quelled. Exhausted ragtag firefighters filled the streets, wearily returning to their homes.

Still walking towards the junkyard at a leisurely pace, Paul finally broke the silence. “I got a bad feeling about this,” he said, tilting his head down to his shoulder. He sounded ashamed of his words.

Neil lit a cigarette, waving out the match. “Mmm?” he mumbled with the cigarette between his teeth. “What are you talking about?”

Paul coughed into his hands, wiping that on his pant leg. The skeletal remains of the warehouse loomed ahead of them, just a few blocks away. “I mean what that old man said. Death’s shadow and all that.”

Neil had also seen the warehouse coming up. With the cigarette rolled to one corner of his mouth, he had been examining his shotgun with a critical eye. But he turned his sight back up to Paul and scoffed at his words.

“Are you telling me you’re actually buying that crap?” asked Neil incredulously. He set the shotgun onto his shoulder and pointed to the upcoming warehouse. “You think we’re going to die in there?”

Paul blinked self-consciously and he rubbed his sweating palms. “Jeez, Neil. It’s just that this thing is starting to seem bigger than us. With all the raiders, inner corruptions, and now this fire, maybe we’re in way over our heads?”

“Just a coincidence,” dismissed Neil. They were nearing the warehouse. “That old man is just preying on these events. He’s no better than a street corner doomsayer.”

“I don’t know,” said Paul after a moment. “I still have a bad feeling about this.”

The two cops finally made it to the junkyard. The better part of town, even the slums, edged away from the junkyard as if it was a pariah. Civilization literally stopped at these bounds.

The remnants of a battle still remained. The warehouse had been completely leveled a while back and shattered timbers and fragments of plaster were left in its place. Charred raider skeletons greeted the two cops with welcoming death-grins.

Neil walked into the midst of the junkyard, his shotgun cocked and locked. Paul strayed a footstep behind, the massive Desert Eagle out. The looming hulks of trashed cars and burning barrels filled with refuse made excellent cover for any ambushing slaver.

They walked into the heart of the junkyard. A clearing awaited them, devoid of any trash or junk. Instead, a campfire burned merrily and several tents stood. Piles of abandoned goods were stored inside the tents and a lonely kettle sat beside the fire.

Neil lowered his shotgun and planted it onto the ground, scratching his head in confusion. Paul scanned the area, his pistol still out.

The older cop sauntered over to the campfire and pressed a callous thumb against the kettle. He withdrew it immediately, hissing. “Its still hot,” Neil called out to Paul.

Off to the side, Paul spied a trail of footsteps leading away from the camp. “Someone left in a hurry, Neil.” He gestured over to the footsteps. “Look at this.”

Neil walked over, examining the footprints. They lead farther away and ended at a manhole with its cover torn off. It looked like a dozen pair of feet had wandered in.

Paul and Neil exchanged looks. “What the hell?” Paul said underneath his breath. “They went into the sewers?” The younger cop walked over to the entrance of the manhole, looking down into the abyss.

It didn’t add up to Neil. There was a missing link somewhere, something they had overlooked that would tie it all together. “Why the hell would they go into the sewers?”

Then the answered showed up when the wind blew over the tents. A flap of paper pinned underneath a pillow caught Neil’s attention. He lowered his head into the tent and picked up the piece of paper.

A letter was written on it:

-To the Slavers Guild

Your quarry is near. Our sources have reason to believe that they may still be in the sewers. Be wary of the ghouls; we have encountered their kind before. The Slayer and his colleagues are probably with them. Do not engage anyone in power armor; it will be for a lost cause. If you spot the girl or the bounty hunter, they are to be shot on the spot. We are tired of their interventions.
As for the Blade, do not engage him. We have our own agent to deal with him.
Remember the deal. Help us capture these interferers and all the people of Tabis are yours. Our forces will be amassed in Tabis soon.
Do not fail us. You know the consequences

It was not signed. Neil reread the letter twice, absorbing every detail. Huge chunks of info were missing from the body but the old sergeant could still tell it was important. Neil folded the letter into his pocket. He was sure Frank would want to see it.

Neil caught up with Paul. He tapped the younger man on the shoulder and pointed towards the open manhole. “We’re going in,” he said, without any prelude. He did not bother telling Paul about his revelation. It would just worry the younger man.

Paul looked into the manhole with misgivings. “I’ve got a real bad feeling about this, Neil,” he said again, as if announcing it to the world.

Neil nodded, finally understanding what the younger man meant. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Do we have to do this?” he asked with pleading eyes. Paul knew the answer but he needed to hear it.

“That’s a stupid question. We’re cops. We have to do the hard work.”

Paul nodded climbed down the manhole without another word. Neil followed suit.

Horrible stenches of feces assaulted them as they wandered into the pipes. Soon, they got used to the smell. Even the squishy feeling of waste crunching beneath their heels seemed bearable.

Paul took the point. The flashlight imbedded in the pump of his shotgun was on and he scanned every crevice and corner. Neil hoped his partner knew where they were going. It would be horrible if they got lost.

It seemed like an eternity of unbreakable sameness. Every corner led to another familiar pipe. It was like a maze of insanity.

Then, after much wandering, Paul’s harsh and strained voice broke the silence. “Slow down a bit, Neil. I see something ahead of us.”

The two cops dropped their pace to a slow. They exited the mouth of a pipe into an intersection of three other pipes. What they saw filled them with dread.

“Oh my God,” whispered Paul in disbelief. His eyes were planted on the floor and the shotgun lowered limply to his side.

Scattered across the floor were the ruined bodies of an army of slavers.
 
At the Fort, and Mr Ibis and the dead raider

The door shook as the Deathclaw vainly threw its body againt the heavy metal. Even so, both the Blade and the Gunslinger stepped back.

High against the walls they could hear the scratching of deathclaws trying to get in.

His veins afire with the psychotic, Grim felt the power of the drug course this body. Around him things seemed to slow as his own mind and actions accelerated.

He looked over at Caleb, who busy reloading his pistols and the winchester. "You know what they say about shooting deathclaws." Grim said, his voice sounding normal.

"Shhhoooottttt EMmmmmm in the Eyyyyyeesssss?" said Caleb.

"Where's the boy?"

Caleb pointed a finger outside and shook his head.

Grim grabbed the old flamer from the box and beneath it saw a flare gun. "Maybe this can help him?" Said Grim tossing the flare gun to Caleb. The Grim ran up to the second floor.

The flare gun would fire a star shell, and for a few minutes, the area would be illuminated under a white sun.

It wasn't much. But if the deathclaw preferred the dark, and if they weren't used to such illuminations, maybe, just maybe, they would run. Critters, even the most powerful, would break when faced with the unnatural.

if Gabriel were still alive, maybe the few minutes of unnatural light would be enough for him to get back into the fort. If the boy were quick he might have a chance against one deathclaw, but there would be no escape from a pack.

In the meantime perhaps Grim could shake a few of them off the house. The flamer was rusted and dented, and old weapon that had seen better days. Judging by the weight and sound, it was either empty or near empty. Still, maybe one shot would be enough.

Quickly he dashed to the side of the house and tested the pilot light on the flamer with a short squeeze. The barrel blew a short burst of bluish flame.

The Grim peered over the wall, and down through the razor wire.

The deathclaw was so damn quick.

Through the darkness below, Grim saw the shape leaping up.
Its claws stretched out, reaching out for him, reaching through the razor wire, its sharp claws grabbing for him. He heard the gutteral roar of anger as it came up.

But for the psycho, the creature would have torn Grim off the wall. But the drug made him quick and he darted his head back behind the second floor ramparts. The claw found only air.

But, falling back, the creature's claws got stuck in the wire. Grabbing, the sharp barbs slicing through the deathclaws thick hide, it ripped and tore at the wire, trying to claw free as it hung over the ground. Its body now banging the wall and the shard of broken glass, nails and stakes that made the Fort look like a giant porcupine. The beast roared its fury at being hung up, of the sharp barbs that dug into and through its skin.

Behind it, Grim heard the distinct boom of a mine detonating somewhere else in the park.

The creature screamed its fury of being trapped. But it did not die.

Grim turned to face the creature. Beneath it, other deathclaws had come, attracted to wounded cries, their comrade now becoming their new prey. They tore at it with their claws as the body swung under the wire.

But still the deathclaw lived, and Grim could see it climbing through the wire. The weight of its body, a new pressure, pulled at the strands of spirals of razor and barbed wire that circled the house. And if the wire was pulled off the deathclaw would eventually come over the wall.

Grim fired once a short burst into the creatures face, and the monsters angry visage enrupted in geltaneous flame. Its screams of fury now a long howl of pain. Grim fired again, capturing the rest of the body in liquid fire, and the fire spreading down to other deathclaw below.

The monster screamed out with its last breath, and then, its charded grasp gave to gravity, and it fell to earth. The other deathclaw, some burning, darted away from the burning mostrosity.

Grim lifted the flamer over his head, his body a rush with the sensation of psycho and survivial, and yelled, "Come on you Motherfuckers, Barbeque Death Claw is GOOOOD EATIN'!"

____________

MEANWHILE in TABIS-

In had taken an hour after they passed through the gates when Fantasia finally got to the small house that she called hers.

Like most in the area it was built on the remains of former structures, and bits and pieces of nearby dwellings had been used for makeshift repairs. Still, it was a decent place.

Cerebus padded next to Ibis, staying close, but often would lift its head to look about. The dog was nervous and suspicious of these new surroundings.

"Just give me a minute. Zero usually waits up for me so he can get a free one after I'm through. But let me tell you, I am glad you going to hire him, cause I'm sick of it. Freebies my ass. His sorry ass owes me money. Let me make sure he knows you're comin."

She knocked on the door twice, "Zero, its Fantasia, I'm coming in."

She let herself in with the key, and light a small brahmawax candle by the door. "Come on in" she motioned to Ibis. "I think Zero must be sleeping."

But Zero wasn't. He lay on his bedding, an rotting airmattress and sleeping bag, next to a bottle of Rotgut, but from his mouth spilled a pool of vomit.

Ibis touched the man's neck to find a pulse, but there was none.
Then he picked up the bottle and took a gentle sniff. Over the smell of the raw alcohol, Ibis could faintly pick up the smells of almonds and cinnamon.

"He's dead. Poisoned."

He put down the bottle.

Fantasia gasped and stood back. "But he owes me money."

"Well I doubt he's going to be able to pay it. But listen, what did he tell you."

"Fuck piece of shit owed me money! Do you think he was killed for what he saw?"

"I don't know. Maybe some of his old friends came by and killed him, and figured they'd rob him and maybe this place."

"Rob my place! Oh no, this is all I got?" The young whore said, her slight grief over the poisoned man forgotten.

"We'll check your place later, and maybe we should tell that cop, but right now you have to tell me what he said."

"He told me nothin." Fantasia said, her instinct of self-preservation taking over.

"I'll pay you." Said Ibis.

"How much?" Greed taking over.

"What I was going to pay him."

"I don't know. I don't think its worth getting killed over."

"Double then."

"Well, lets see it. "

Ibis put two small bags of coin on the table. But the girl didn't make to pick it up, so Ibis opened the bags and spilled the coin loose.

"Ain't much." She said.

"That's what I got." Ibis said.

"Well." She said, pausing until her greed took over." But you are going to help me with him" she gestured to Zero. Ibis nodded. "He didn't say much, really."

"What did he say?"

"Alright. He said that he was with a group of other raiders. About 5 or 6 gangs all together, but they didn't number more than about a hundred. He said this tall black skinned fella and some others had given them out guns and then had called a meeting with the leaders. 'Cept Zero didn't go to that cause he was just a soldier, see."

"Then on the night, they all gathered up near some old bunkers. The leader of the gang, a fellow name Che, said to wait there. But then there was just huge explosion on the horizon, far away. The raiders didn't know what to do. Then Che got a message on the radio saying to hold tight."

"Zero told me that he was able to see out of one of the windows, but it was dark like. He said he saw lightning coming from the sky, but it roared, not like thunder, but continuous like. ANd the lighting came in streams of blue and red, from the sky, straight down. They could hear the explosions from the Blade camp, but couldn't see what it was."

" Then that stopped and there was a humming like giant insects coming over the horizons, something that made a chop chop chop kind of sound. But they were fast see, and low. Giant insects, and they flew over to the Blades, and Zero couldn't see that either."

"Then they got the order to move, and they attacked. It took a while to get there because the bunker was far away. But when they did, there were dead Blades everywhere. But some of the Blades were still up, and they put a heck of a fight. Many raiders went down, including Che. He got his head taken off, if you believe it. But there were other Blades that were throwing up bits and many moved very slowly like they was drunk."

"Even so, the Blades fought pretty hard, and killt a lot those raiders. The raiders didn't kill them all, cause they were told not to. Zero said that maybe 50 of them Blades were still alive. The raiders sold them to slavers, and one of the slavers said they would be taking the Blades to Grey Cliffs, though they didn't know why."

Ibis listened without interruption until finally he asked. "Why are there so many slavers round here then?"

"Well," Fantasia, paused. "Zero told me that the slavers were supposed to take most of the population after the raiders were through here. But the raiders split up when their plans went to shit. That's why there here, but I don't know why they are still here."

Cerebus got up at that moment, and a slight growl came from the boxers lips. It pointed itself at the door and the hair on its back began to raise.

Someone else was here, and perhaps they'd come to finish the job.

______
Rogue, this might be a good time for you connecting with Ibis, otherwise I think Cerebus is going to get some diner.
 
Rogue made her way through the dark abandoned streets till she finally reached the populated section of the slums.

Looking around, Rogue was amazed by the site of devastation. The remnants of what looked to be a large building were stood smouldering in the cold night air. People, collapsed on the ground, exhausted from fighting the now under control fire.
Rogue couldn’t but feel sorry for these people, caught up in all the chaos that had been going on of late, they were simple people, most of them no idea of what or why this has all been happening.

The closer Rogue got to the Rusty Nail inn the more the streets became alive. People talking on every corner, no doubt about the events that had occurred over the past couple of days.

Rogue moved on, ignoring the vibe in the streets, towards the inn. She was aware that the longer she took the more of a danger the others would be placed in, not to mention Grims need for medical attention.

As she approached the Inn, Rogue stopped, glancing around to make sure she wasn’t been closely watched or had been followed. As much as the girl hated to admit it, Rogue was aware that she looked suspicious and there were many eyes who would be laying in wait for this type of moment.

Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, Rogue pushed open the doors of the bar as discreetly as she could.
Fortunately the sounds of conversation filled the air and and little attention was paid to her entrance.

Rogue moved up to the bar and was greeted by a middle aged women, fair in looks but rough times could be seen across her face.
“What can I get you miss.” The women said courteously.

Rogue, lowering her voice as to make sure she wasn’t being over heard, “I need to speak to the one called Yacob, I believe he is the owner of this establishment.”

The aged women looked Rogue over suspiciously. Being the wife of a former badge, she had learnt to be vigilant and Rogue didn’t look trust worthy.

“Please, I need to speak with him, if you know of his ware abouts, please let me know.” Rogue pleaded.

“What is your business with Yacob?” The woman asked, contently interrogating the young girl.

Rogue was lost, expecting to have met with Yacob directly in the inn where she could have explained the situation. Rogue now found her self in a difficult situation she hadnt been prepared for.
Knowing she couldn’t explain to the women what had happened, there were too many people around to be able to do that.
Thinking of what she could possibly say, Rogue remembered the Grim's words and how he had agreed to help Yacob find a death claw.

“I’ve need to see him about the death claw business, there have been some slight complications.”

The women, all to familiar with what the young girl was talking about, rolled her eyes over the girl stood in front of her, “Ok, he’s went to help with the fire over the other side of the slums district, you know where that is?”

Rogue nodded, having just passed through that way.

“What’s happened, if I might ask?” Pondered the women.

“It’s nothing to worry about, just a little complication.” Rogue smiled turning to leave.

As Rogue exited from the inn heading back in the direction of the slums, a small figure arose from where he had been sitting listening with interest to the girls words.

Moving slowly to the door, Nobbs watched Rogue disappear into the street.

“Well hello there.” He whispered to himself, aware that this information would be worth good money to the head hunter, before slipping into the mists of people himself.

Rogue moved swiftly through the crowds, how in the world she would find Yacob in the mist of this chaos was beyond her but she had to try, for the others sake.

Nobbs tailed the young girl, doing what hid best, and doing it well. Rogue had little idea she was being shadowed, too rapped up in her own problems and not paying attention to the snitch behind her.

Reaching the location where the fire had taken place, Rogue stopped to search for the inn keeper.
Realising at this point she didn’t know Yacobs face, she searched for someone who would maybe know him, someone who looked as though they could have frequented the bar.

A man stood tall, watching the remains of the burnt building smoulder slowly as the last of the fires died out. He held a bucket under one arm and a shovel in the other.

Approaching the man, rogue placed a hand on the guys arm. The large man, startled, jumped to face the girl.

“Err you nuts, you scared the shit outer me!” The man yelled.

“I’m sorry, I’m...I’m looking for a man named Yacob, would you know his ware abouts?” Rogue asked timidly.

“Hmmm.” The man turned and glanced around him, noticing Yacob stood with his younger brother talking to some of the locals. “Yea, he’s over there...” Replied the man pointing in Yacobs direction.
Rogue could see Yacob now; he stood with a small crowd next to another man of considerable size.

“Thanks.” Rogue exclaimed.”

“Yacob?” A small voice came.

Yacob turned to see a short young girl behind him.

“Yes...how can I help you little miss?” Yacob asked, wondering what on earth could be wrong now.

“I need to speak with you alone, fast.” Rogue answered leaning closer to Yacob lowering her voice, “its Grim...he’s in trouble!”

Yacob, seeing the deadly seriousness in the girls eyes, pointed to a small ally way, “Come, we can talk here away from unwanted ears.”

Yacob turned and made a hand gesture for Horus to follow.

He looked around to make sure no one was in sight and turned to Rogue, “What’s happened, what’s wrong?” he asked looking worried. Grim must be in trouble to not have come in person he thought to him self.

Rogue quickly gave a brief explanation of what had happened in the sewers while the two men listened attentively.

“Wait a minute.” Horus intervened, “There over at Wainright park, buts that’s deathclaw land.”

“Shit.” Exclaimed Yacob. We got to get moving. “But we need to find a doctor first.” Rogue shouted.

“Right...Horus,” said Yacob, “Go with the girl, take her to Kaldren’s house. He said he was going home to get more supplies. You tell him I sent you.”

“You got it.” Horus nodded in acknowledgment. “Were the hell are you going?” He yelled back to Yacob who was already departing.

“I'm going to get us a damn doctor, you just be ready for us!”

Horus turned and frowned at the girl in front of him. He smiled, “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

"Whats at Kaldren's house." Rogue asked the large man.

"Guns." Replied Horus now grinning cunningly.

OOC- Ok...sorry about Rogue not going to Ibis but i allready created this post and only just rembered Ibis being a doctor! I sent Yacob after him...but it seems that there is a slight time delay between the two. Sorry.
 
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