Wasteland - Chapter 4 - Junktown and Raiders - IC

Status
Not open for further replies.
welsh

welsh

Junkmaster
OCC- past chapters-

Chapter 1- http://www.nma-fallout.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=4910
Chapter 2 - http://www.nma-fallout.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=6292&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=280
Chapter 3 - http://www.nma-fallout.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=8821

IC-

It had been weeks since the blast at Vault 15 and there had been no sign of the Rovers or the mysterious Strangers. In the time Dwemer had slowly overcome his injuries, as the remaining Vipers began to organize their new community to the land North and East of what was Vault 15.

It was peaceful and necessary, yet Dwemer, Brute to his friends, remained restless. The question for the waterchip remained, and time continued while he stood still. He wondered what those in the Vault were now doing.

For his part, Melvin seemed to be enjoying himself. With many of the Viper men dead or wounded, he had begun to make the rounds of the lonely Viper girls. But even Melvin had grown restless. "Yo Bro, time to get goin'. Pussy is always more prime on the other side of the hill." Perhaps the reason why had more to do with the jealousy of the Viper girls and their plots to keep Melvin tied to them.

It was time to move on and continue the quest.
 
After the fight with the Rovers, Zeke had spent a large amount of time honing his skills and passing them on to the Vipers, and Vedpose. Geckos far and wide were decimated by the efforts of at least twenty hunters learning the trade. The culinary arts flourished under the large amount of Gecko meat that was hauled in, and even Zeke learned how to cook more than things that just passed for "edible".

The abundance of scrap in the area and the large amount of free time led to the creation of many nail bombs, and a few upgrades to some old equipment. The Vipers now had an armoury full of explosives( And a full belt adorned Zeke with nailbombs.), and Zeke had reloaded all of the bullets fired at the battle with the Rovers. The local tailors kept busy sewing a new vest for Zeke with brand new steel plates in it and dyed a deep blood red. Newer and sharper spikes adorned Zeke's knuckles and his guns were retooled and mildly customized with poplar grips and recoil vents in the side of his .45. All of the rips in Zeke's clothes were mended(and so he hoped was his friendship with Melvin), and so was his pack full.

But something was amiss. Not that Zeke had ever been spiritual, but he now felt that his work was done here and fate wanted him to go on. Apparently Dwemer had had the same problem. Notone to question the hand dealt to him he decided that wherever Dwemer was to go he would follow. He really didn't have a choice.
 
Carib and Inne began to get to know eachother better, and now and again the Nuka Cola Chaser could get a glimer of interest from her green eyes, but like mirage, it came as quickly as it went. She had saved his ass in a few scrapes, especially when the rovers were closing in. Carib had made seventeen confirmed kills, playing the game with his comrade Richard.

For his part, he allowed her space, and didn't mind keeping to himself at all. O'Reilly had never been one for much company. When you were a loner, the company of one was often enough. Yet, the Vault Dwellers had grown on him, even the fortune telling gypsy and ghoul too.

And Brute, well Brute and Carib had come to an understanding and he knew the man meant well. He wasn't blinded by prejudice, but in these wastelands, naivity kills. And Brute had barely survived his run with those strangers bellow. What were they? Demons? Of course, Carib did believe in demons. Go to the Bone Yard and visit Englewood, you'd see plenty.

Taking a rest on a hamock, Carib tucked a wide brim hat over his face and blocked out the glare, the laughter and Melvin trying in vain to evade the viper chicks. Just before it set over his eyes, he saw the brother make a dash that would have made an olympic gold medalist runner go green with envy.

"That nigga fast," Carib muttered before he took his catnap.

Desert Eagle was at his hip and blade hidden up his sleeve. Old habits really die hard.
 
In the weeks following the confrontation with the raiders, Vedpose had allowed herself to be over taken in the development of the Viper Settlement. The hardships of developing, restructuring, and ultimately forming society were somewhat romantic to her. It reminded her of the small developing communities near the town where she grew up, the trips she and the others in the town had taken to help them while establishing future trade, but ultimately it reminded her of home and her family.

It had been over seven years since she had left the town with her brother and nearly three year since she last visited. The death and carnage she had seen in the battles fought for the very land on which she now stood served as a reminder; a reminder of those she cared for, those she longed for, and those whose life had been extinguished for existence saved her memories. But alas, time had flown as quickly as she had ever known and time for remembrance and yearning would have to be pushed aside once more. There was still the question of the disappearing caravans to be answered and this was a question which’s call would not be denied.
 
Rooadrunner began to hum, passing in her robes and dress, it made her appear like some desert nomad female. She held a jug of water in her bangled arms, and some tattoos on her wrists and arms. Now she looked around, and saw Viper children and women run about and play. Though she felt sadness and pain, she also felt hope spring like a newly planted seed. Alex.

Now it was time to reach Dwemer and give him some water and see if he needed dressing of his wounds.

Opening the door of the small stone shelter, she came inside to see a shirtless Brute sitting upright in his bed.

"Good morning."
 
Ivan slowly hummed to himself, rocking back and forth with a battered leather journal in his lap. Clenched in his hand was a small broken pencil peiece he had found from who knows where, and he was quite accurately resketching some of the creatures, Vault 15, and the like. Of course, he had added gratuitous explosions, holy light and the like but hey, artistic license.

"What the hell rhymes with desecration...poetically..." He mumbled to himself, swigging a small amount of vodka from the flask. He still was somewhat of the unknown in the group, but he wasn't crazy. Just...eccentric. Nice, but eccentric. Kill-happy, but eccentric. Minding the knives on his body, scars along his face and the slightly unnerving glint in his eyes, he could seem almost to be normal?

He sighed to himself, settling back against the blackened remains of metal behind him. Despite his freedom, he felt rather alone. When one was in a routine for years, the hell of the known sometimes beat the Dantean hell of the unknown. Besides, he was rather lonely for some company besides the pet rock in his pocket.
 
"Eviseration...." Carib said from behind Ivan as he rocked in the hamock, the wide brim still over his eyes, "It ryhmes with desecretion, Ivan." It was attempt to know the Russian, not that Carib was picking new friends, but he felt a rapport with loners like himself.
 
"Hi."Dwemer smiled at the sight of the little fortune teller. "I was wondering when you were going to show up."

He had just finished another set of push-ups, and although the wet sweat felt good on his muscled arms and chest, he knew dehydration was a potential danger. The water was welcomed.

So was the girl.

She was growing on him. She had continued to bring him water even while he though he had recovered and restarted is normal training.

Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and chin-ups, lots of cardio-vascular, running, and when he could, weight training. Lots of stretching to stay flexible. He could feel his body hardening again, the familliar feeling return, and was enjoying the natural endorphan highs. He was even improving his hand-to-hand with some of the others, including an old Viper who taught some strange form of hand-to-hand called "Kung Fu- Brazilian Jujitzu."

The exercises were good. It helped him get focused and stay concentrated. It filled in the quiet times.

During these times he had often found Roadrunner nearby, watching, doing her fortunes, waiting. She had not spoken much but seemed content as if waiting for time to pass, knowing it would. Patient.

At first it troubled Dwemer. Her patience, her attention. He wasn't used to it. He had known a few girls, but generally had always been the "shy, silent type" mostly because he didn't know what to say and was afraid of saying something stupid. His fears had been proven on the few times he had been bold enough to talk to a girl it hadn't worked out.

Truth was, Dwemer wasn't good around people. It was the reason he preferred to exercise. He took pride in his physical prowess to ignore the embarrassment of his social awkwardness. He preferred to be alone, to be able to think without being afraid of being socially ostracisized.

It had surprised him to be chosen for this quest. Now it was surprising that people were looking to him for leadership. It left him feeling uncomfortable.

And then there was this girl. She who would bring him water, who watched him, who seemed to be waiting, knowing what would happen.

It troubled him that the she had told him that his quest for the waterchip would fail, even if she had told him that another would succeed where he failed. She had told him he had another purpose to fulfill. She had called him her champion.

And he had little doubt that she knew the future and what was inevitable. Perhaps that explained her patience.

He stood up as she gave him the water jug, which he lifted to his mouth. As he drank she put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart still pounding from the exercise, feeling the water course through his body. Her hand was cool and somewhat hard from the rough living, but it too was welcomed.

When he put down the jug he found her still watching him, her eyes warm, understanding and patient. So she also knew he would kiss her, and her mouth welcomed him.

"Why?" He asked, when their lips parted, "Why do you..."

But she ran her hand through his long hair, and pulled him to her mouth, silencing his question.

"Why do you ask?" She said finally, quietly, but not without humor. "Why don't you just accept?"

"It is hard." He said, looking into her warm dark eyes.

"No, it is destiny."

"But I don't like that my life is destiny."

"Destiny does not require that you like it, just that it is." She said.

"And what is our destiny?" He asked.

"That would ruin the surprise." She laughed, and slipped out of his grasp and got on the bed, her smile turning seductive.

Brute laughed. The girl had been good for him in other ways as well. Let Melvin have the Viper girls.

"We can't go on this way." He said, getting into the bed, his hand finding her curves, "The others will talk and they will think we are being unsociable."

Her hands again fell around his head. "It's ok. Everyone knows. And tomorrow we are leaving for Junktown."

The news caught Brute by surprise, and he was about to ask how this came to be, but question was lost as she blew out the shelter's candle.
 
"Ah, of course....why didn't I think of that? Thank you.....Carib, was it?"

After the nod he wrote the line down, holding the book up in waning light to see how it looked. The sketch was very well done, in charcoal grey and pencil and he would spray some plastic to keep it that way. He sighed, placing the book away as he looked out over the vanishing sunset, uncertain. Where was he to go now? It was easy to say one would fight slavery till they day they died AS one...but now that he was free...how would he possibly strike a blow against the insidious practice?
 
"Yeah, Carib... Carib FMJ O'Reilly." He said with a lopsided grin, not botheringt o hold out his hand since he could see Ivan's hand was charcoal to parchmant. "but despite the Irish surname, I am far from looking like a mic." He turned lazily in the hamock and faced Ivan's art work. Charcoal drawing. He remembered his little brother Ryan liking to draw when they were kids, so Carib had always appreciated the arts, in a way it probably helped Ivan deal with his pain. Not many were wise enough, some just acted on brutal instinct and ended up hurting the ones they loved. Such was life, give or take. That was how the wheel went.

The man was a slave not too long ago, and though Carib had never endured slavery, he knew the inhumanity of it. And no one could convince him otherwise that the barberic practice had merits. Kidnap, rape, murder and enslavement were wrong. But perhaps Carib's practice of stealing water and offering his services to such as Decker or Gizmo were no different. So many things to ponder. But he was greatful he had a loving brother that still looked out for him and had even landed him a job as a nuka cola destributer.

Carib banished the thoughts like a stack of smoke, "You coming to Junk Town with us?"
 
Vedpose was already gathering up her things when she got word that they were leaving for junktown. It had been a good long while, at least two years, since she last visited that mound of rusted nuts and bolts. But Ved’s thoughts were elsewhere. They were again set on the past, on a day not more than half a year ago when she broke her promise to her dear one. Junktown… Vedpose wondered if she was really there like she said she would be. In any case, she would have to deal with that when she arrived.

As Vedpose finish up, pulling on the dark colored robes she wore over her clothes, she thought about why she hadn't left for Junktown by herself before now. She had thought about it and her objective was an important one but, somehow, she was still drawn to stay. Maybe it was the sense of community, sense of home that came from both the Viper settlement and her new traveling companions that drew her to stay. Then again, maybe she just didn't want to face the up coming confrontation alone. Still she had a feeling that Junktown held only the first of many more trials to come.

“The journey’s just begun,” Vedpose said to herself as she slung her rifle over her shoulder and started walking to the cental area of the camp to find the others.
 
She had followed them across the wasteland, tracking them, following their scent, until she had caught up to them.

She waited, outside beyond the firelight. The little human community was having some kind of party. There were too many humans. She was a cautious creature and knew the numbers did not favor her.

Patience and surprise where her weapons. She watched them move, had studied them. The big muscular human, and the black man. She still carried the wound from the cave, and she felt it burn when she thought of revenge.
She saw the blackman with the women, the Big man with another girl. She knew who were their friends, and had already begun to make her plans for taking advantage of them.

This was not about satisfying hunger. This was about revenge.

But the thought of feasting stirred her instincts. She would have to hunt.

__________

On the night before the group was to leave the Vipers threw the small group a going away party. It wasn't much. Music, homegrown booze, company, companionship. But for both it was a celebration and better than a sad departing.

"I am not fucking stayed here." Said Melvin.

The girl, Bee, was insisting that he stay, that she was carrying his child, that she loved him, etc.

Mevlin had heard this before and wasn't buying it. "Look, I told you when we started I am a ramblin man."

She was crying. Why did they always have to cry.

But Melvin already knew what was the deal. The Vipers were a communal people, and his children would be raised by the community, thus freeing him of responsibility and allowing him to continue his quest. With the lose of men from the recent battles, the Vipers would need more children if the community were to survive.

Alex had hoped to delay the group, and he had succeeded while their wounded healed. But he would have preferred that the group of wanderers stayed and added their strength and skills to those of the town. But he knew that the group would soon leave. Their fate was elsewhere.

Still he knew that there would be some sad partings, and it was no surprise when he saw Melvin turn away and Bee walk out into the night.

__________

How could he leave me? Thought Bee. When I have shared so much, when I need him.

But quietly she cursed herself. She had hoped to catch Melvin with love, but Melvin had always been honest, had never lied.

He had told her from the beginning that he would be there long, that they would have to take what joy the could in the moment, for the moment would pass.

It was she that had wanted to keep him, to trap him.

She touched her belly, knowing that she was with child already.

She looked back at the fires at the camp. At her friends, at her community around the fire. THe music carried across the wasteland and strangely made her feel more lonely for being away.

"Why are you here?" She heard the familiar voice.

She turned, "Melvin?"

"Yes?" Melvin's black face and dark hair appeared in the moonlight.

"I didn't expect..."

"You don't have to say anything" He soothed her.

"But I..."

"Hush now... I'm here baby. I'll make it better."

And she went to him, held him close. Felt his breath against her ear, his warmth against her neck. This kiss thrilled her, sent goosebumps up her leg, made her heart race.

Expectant, she did not attempt to escape even when his hand covered her mouth. She was still giddy when the thing that was not Melvin tore into her neck. She had time to scream but once, but it was muffled and lost in the night. Then there was a snap, and her neck was broke, and Bee feel limp to the floor.

The thing looked back to the camp and saw that no alarm had been raised. She sniffed the air and found no one was close by. She waited a moment, until the smell of blood was too much, then she slowly dragged the body of the girl away from the camp, into the dark, where it's feast awaited.
 
"Very well Carib." Ivan said, finally turning as he raised a brow. They wanted...him? Odd notion, as that implied acceptance, something Ivan was not particularly used to. Easy to call someone crazy when you stand with the crowd.

"I suppose I would, yes. T-thank you" He said, the words having dust of the ages over them. A simple thank you, joking about racial stereotypes, idle actions of a long dead and long missed world. He couldn't help it, so he chuckled. "Yes well I am afraid I'm the average Russian. Large, crazy, and drinking vodka. Here, want some?" He offered the flask up to the man. His eyes held a particular glint in them, both of dangerous intelligence and yet...and yet...the glimmerings of simple camaraderie?
 
Zeke sat patiently at his worktable with his .45. If he decided it was worth it he might cut some recoil notches and perhaps shave and sand a few pieces in the action to make the gun fire more smoothly. Taking a long drought of booze he decided. Hey why not?

------------------Next Morning---------------------


After his M1911 he had done the same to his Desert Eagle .50 caliber and then had blued them both. He even had enough time to toy with the idea of a flash grenade until a working prototype was made. At least 2 vipers had thought a new bomb had fallen and for at least 500 yards every animal scattered to the wind. Zeke stood working his jaw up and down to try and open his ears back up.

Zeke sought out Vedpose and found her in the town square wearing her travel robes. All he had to do was nod to her and she understood.

It was time to go.
 
Carib smiled but refused, "Thanks, but not now... I only drink strong when the time of my journey is at end. Sorry, despite the Irish hertiage I have to decline... But I ask, if we should survive this journey, we share a jug."

Carib went back to rest.


=========The Morning=========

When Carib arose in the morning, long before day break, Carib was standing, a propositioned Mossberg 590 Compact shotgun was holstered on his back in a makeshift shotgun holster. Fourteen shells of .12ga shells. The .44 FMJ and JHP points were pockted, nicely put away in clips. Seven more clips, again, spoils of the battlefield.

He could see Zeke in a hut, assembling a .45 pistol.

Roadrunner and Brute were in the house, and Carib thought with a cool grin, Looks like Dwemer got some love.

As Carib smile grew, he sensed something, he sensed something. Something sinister, as if he could sense a cunning, a cold calculating predatory. It was scarry and Carib had never felt this sort of fear, this sort of impending doom.

Whatever it was it had been watching them. Watching them long, and whatever it was, it wasn't human.
 
Roadrunner's tanned hand was caressing Brute's muscled arms, her fingers making traces in the once pale flesh that was now darkened by the rays of the unforgiving sun above. Beneath the sheets they lay. The tender love making had gone on through the night, and though RR was no stranger to the art, she enjoyed Brute. If it was his first time, he sure was gifted.

It had been a long time since she had let someone in her like that. She had lovers before, but they either died or disappeared as quickly as they came.

She could see his eyes flicking open as she pondered, her hands stroking his dark hair. You couldn't help but not fall in love with his eyes. A Champion's Eye.

"Sweet dreams, Mi amor?"

He smiled back at her, which she complimented with a tender kiss. Then, just then she snaked out of bed, her movement as deft and as quick a desert viper.

"They wait for us. Those that will follow you." Roadrunner siad, as she got dressed, doning her usual garb and holstered the Revolver she had let rest on the table top. Then she paused, her delecate manner paused and her eyes took on a hard look, a deep concenrrating stare.

"But beware my love... there is a demoness, a siren... cunning and hungry that has searched far and wide for you. She isn't what she seems and The two halves of the Cookie of Old have beheld her, but she appears different... Beware Champion, the Siren hungers."

Then her eyes became clear once again and her face had worry. "Let's go. We go to Junk Town, my Champion."
 
Brute thought about Roadrunner's warning. Two halves of the cookie- black and white- Melvin and Brute. It was possible we beheld her differently. A sireness.....

And then he remembered the thing in the cave.

"Don't sweat it babe. We dealt with her once, we'll finish it this time."

But when he joined the others as they gathered their things over a last breakfast, Brute soon realized the danger was more apparent.

Alex was talking to Melvin about Bee, and that the girl had not shown up for her duties. The last anyone had seen of her she had been arguing with Melvin and then had stepped out into the desert night.

She had not been seen since.

Brute listened to Alex's interrogation aware that Melvin was Alex's main suspect of any wrongdoing. But it was too early to even suspect something dire. Perhaps Bee just wanted time alone.

Brute was about to intervene when one of the Vipers called out from a spot some 200 meters from the camp perimeter. "Fresh Blood."

The others went out to inspect what Brute well knew was the scene of a crime.

Blood on the rocks, blood on the floor. It had already dried on the floor, but had stained the rocks. There was something else, a piece of flesh that two cockroaches seemed to be fighting over.

Zeke was one of the first there. "Stay back. Maybe I can spot a track."

He walked around the scene. "It's a lot of blood. This close to camp... sorry, I think she's dead. No human tracks- footprints or boots except mine coming out here, and these small ones, about the size of Bee's foot, I think. Something else though."

He pointed to the fragments of a track. Definitely animal. "This looks like a rat. But something big. Maybe a molerat. Looks like it took her and dragged her this way."

Zeke began walking slowly, crouched over, away from the camp, down through a rocky spill, where there was more blood.

"See these tracks." Explained Zeke. Brute nodded though he couldn't see anything. "Here it seems to be dragging something, and look at the earth and stains. Like it brought down prey and was dragging it someplace to consume."

Melvin had just arrived, saw the blood and started to pale.

Zeke continued down a dry creek bed, finding bits of cloth, pointing out blood. They could smell the body before they saw it. The smell was enough. Melvin turned away and vomitted behind a large boulder.

Ahead of them a pigrat, scurried away until it was brought down with spear of a pursuing Viper. THe pigrat was merely a scavenger.

In a dry hollow they came across what was left of the body, already being claimed by different insects. Most of the body organs had already been removed and eaten. Insects were now scurrying over the bones and the skin, consuming bits of the remains. Bees skull seemed to face them, her eyes already consumed.

Zeke looked up at the others but didn't say what the others thought. It had been a large critter that had picked at Bee because she was vulnerable.

Just another danger of the wasteland, a natural occurrence and not the malicious act of a wilful murderer.

Zeke continued to follow the tracks for another hundred meters until the tracks disappeared.

Zeke shrugged. He had figured out a mystery but it had not led to any real resolution, except perhaps to shift blame away from Melvin. "I'd expect it was still around here, but probably hiding in the daylight. You folks might best consider a hunting party though if the critter stays around. Maybe set a trap tonight."

Everyone was quiet as they retreaved what was left of Bee's body and brought it back to camp.

As usual, the burial was quick least it attract more critters or the body turn more foul. When the burial was over, the group of companions began their trek towards Junktown.
 
Another day, another death... Richard had seen Bee hunting a couple of times during their brief stay in the village. While he didn't really know her, he thought a girl like her would be able to at least yell before being caught by whatever it was that killed her outside the village.

Still, it was high time to leave this village and pursue whatever quest the two vaultdwellers were on. If Dwemer and Melvin hadn't finally announced the group would be leaving today, Richard would've left on his own accord, pursuing his own agenda, even though he still felt he owed the two vault dwellers. With or without Sam was another matter though.

As the group finally left, Richard who until then was sitting against the town well, quickly joined them. The group seemed excited & somewhat eager for action. Even Richard was looking forward to something else then spending days trying to fight the boredom while his arm slowly healed...
 
Zeke sat in his tent fiddling with a lighter as he pondered the death of Bee.

Whatever it was had killed her by breaking the neck, but also cut her up quite a bit.

If it had cut her up first she would have screamed. So then it broke the neck first.

Why had it cup her up right there and then only to drag Bee away and eat her organs? Maybe it had been overwhelmed with hunger and sampled a little before the feast.

That seemed suprisingly intelligent for a molerat. More than that how in the hell had it snuck up to her without being noticed. Surely a creature as large as a molerat, which also normally is pretty noisy, couldn't have done so.

And lastly. How the hell does something just vanish in an open area without leaving tracks. That would be something a person could do if they knew they were being followed. But what about a molerat?
 
Vedpose had seen the ravages that the wastes took on the unclaimed bodies of the dead before, the rigor mortise, the cold blue sight of the once full colored flesh, the absolute vile scent, and claims made by the creatures to the once living tissues, but the sight of Bee’s body still stuck a sharp blade through her stomach. Living and dying, as it would seem, were something that the human race excelled at. These were abilities only seemed to be outdone by the human abilities to hate and kill. The wars that brought Terra to its current state of affairs were proof enough of that. Still the planet would still out live us regardless the atrocities we aimed at it.

Maybe that was what troubled Vedpose. The finite span of our lives coupled with the thought that she might someday be violated by the wastes in such a way. It was, to say the least, an uncomfortable thought but it was the way of the world. She had been taught from a young age the balances of nature and that our part in the path was to start anew the cycle from the bottom. She knew this but it was of no comfort. Maybe what was important was what happened the energy, the spirit as it was called by many, of a person.

As the party started on their way to Junktown, Ved decided to ask the age old philosophy question to her comrades.

“Guys, I have a question for you”

The party seemed to be listening.

“What do you think happens to us after we pass on? I mean what happens to our memories, our experiences, our essences, who and what we are?”

Vedpose paused waiting for an answer.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top