OPEN QUEST MARKER A Taste of Bliss

[rissa]

QUEST MARKER FOUND: A TASTE OF BLISS

"I'm lookin' for some folks who have a thirst for the finest Pre-War cola ever made. Prospectors, perhaps, who'd like to pilfer through untouched goods. A trade baron's pet, even, to ensure no antique gets left behind. Shit, I'd take a souvenir junky as long as his aim's good.

What I need is a team, a small group of competent wastelanders who're willin' to work together to help clear out a strip mall that's infested with ghouls. I got some caps for your troubles, but the real reward is a Nuka Cola Quantum and whatever you find in Northpoint Plaza."

REWARDS: 175 CAPS, NUKA COLA QUANTUM, POTENTIAL TREASURE​

United Southern Bank stood as a testament to Pre-War construction and its paranoid opulence. The ostentatious aesthetic— the regal stone façade, with carvings between each pillar, were only just beginning to crumble. The carvings of dashing lions, brave alligators, and pompous manatees could still be seen and traced, with only their noses and fangs and ears missing. Most importantly, United Southern Bank had a wonderful vantage point of Northpoint Plaza.

Separating plaza from bank was a large, sloping freeway, four lanes on each side with a swathe of green in-between. A few cars littered the area, one faded blue and two too destroyed to determine, but the large chunks of metal made for good cover nonetheless.

Roads in the wasteland were unsettling. They stretched on for miles in either direction, sometimes winding out of sight, but find yourself in the open and you're bound to be seen. For miles on each end of this little part of the wasteland, the roads were lined with trees— some mere deadened stalks while others were mutated monsters with foliage and flowers, an ecosystem in of themselves. But the true oddity was Northpoint Plaza.

It was obvious, after a glance, why Vinny Duleche needed help clearing it out. The mall was in fact a set of interconnected buildings, long and squat and no more than three stories, with large wings jutting out at either end. A few cars were scattered across the paved entrance, but the center held the remnants of an ancient fountain, caught in a swell of brackish green water. The fountain head stood like a beacon at half mast, flooded past the brim. The water, more than likely irradiated, crept towards the main entrances at either end.

It looked like getting in was going to be a logistic nightmare alone.

The bank, on the other hand, was eerily open and receptive. A handwritten sign was posted at the door that read: Third floor, got scopes on the mall and some hand drawn maps. — Vinny

There was movement beyond the threshold when Sachria moved through and she acted on instinct, the barrel of her rifle swooping low to track the movement out the corner of her eye. She moved to pull the trigger when a hairy beast came sniffing, nails clacking against the stone in a rush, but a pistol was shoved against her temple.

"Move the gun away from my fuckin' dog or I swear to god I'll put a bullet in ya right now, Happy Camper."

The last two words were said viciously, warningly. Sachria raised a brow and the barrel of her rifle in one go, curious. "So you know of us and you couldn't introduce yourself befittingly?" She swung her rifle onto her back and clicked it in place with a snap.

The hulking form beside her laughed dismissively but removed the metal from against her skin. There was an awkward grunt before the man motioned towards the stairwell leading upstairs. Sachria nodded, clicking on her flashlight module to guide her way through the debris. She was surprised when she noticed the effort put into pushing some of it aside, though something still tickled the back of her mind. This is too... easy.

Sachria grabbed her pistol when she entered the stairwell, careful with each step.

"Finished clearin' the downstairs as you were comin' through."

The hairs on the back of Sachria's neck raised. He was a quiet one, despite being so large.

As they neared the second landing Sachria nodded once, in understanding, and they both went separate ways. Not much care was taken to clean up the remnants of the past here, but it was at least devoid of ghouls.

"Well?" Sachria asked with slight trepidation, an anxious smile dancing on her lips. "Ready to see if this is all worth it?"

The man in front of her held out his hand which she shook with a happy smile.

Together they entered the third floor, a much smaller and open space. There were only two offices on this floor, as two giant windows dominated the space. As stated on the sign outside, there were two scopes set up in front of the windows, with maps and hastily scribbled notes sprawled across the table they rested upon. At the opposite end of the room were four easels, all with the same hasty written hand. The Importance of a Battle Buddy. Knowing When to Use a Stimpak. Have you considered using stealth? When to Run, an Autobiography.

The man of the hour was unfortunately in the corner of the room, obscured by a broken and de-pillowed couch, curled up in a sleeping bag and fast asleep. Before Sachria could even laugh, there was a box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes being hurled towards the sleeping form.

"Getcha ass up, looks like there's more of us comin' now!"

Sachria followed the man to the window, keeping an eye on the groggy figured rising to consciousness.

"Hopefully we get quite a few. That malls fuckin' huge." Sachria said softly.

"Aye, I'll drink to that!"

Vinny stood behind them, half dressed, sporting a fine bedhead, and looking like he was absolutely dead to the world three minutes ago. Which, to be fair, he absolutely was.

"Names Vinny Duleche. Glad you could make it! I was up all night getting some stuff ready, but I'll talk about that once everyone's here. What can I call y'all?"

Sachria smiled and introduced herself first. "Happy Camper here! Deputy Sachria at your service."

"Misha."

"Oh, well it's nice to meet the both of you. I can't thank you enough for the help. And you as well," Vinny replied enthusiastically, nodding towards the door where someone else was making their way through.

CURRENT OBJECTIVE: FIRST POST BUTTERFLIES

Hello everyone! Welcome to the first of many tales within Fallout: Requiem. Let's jump right in shall we?

You have three goals this posting round! First and foremost is the introduction of your character. Get a feel for them during this introductory phase— and feel free to keep your posts short and direct if you wish, to allow plenty back and forth communication IC. This will aide you in your second objective:

By the next posting round (Between April 19th and the 22nd) each character should have a "battle buddy." Ideally, everyone will be paired to another player, but if the cards fall uneven, Vin/Misha/Sachria can fill in. How your characters decide their battle buddies is up to you! Do they need extra protection? Or do they need support as a front liner? The choice is yours— but try and discover it IC!

Your third goal is to have your character reveal one item of note that they're interested in finding. Does it relate to a childhood memory? Or is it something your raider boss is hounding you for? Maybe it's medicine from the clinic on the third floor or mechanical parts from down in the basement.

+

hehehe secret stuff

there are three items of note hidden within the bank. will you search them out? what will happen when you do?

 

[littlekreen]

EMBRACE DEMOCRACY

ANCHORAGE ALASKA

STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8

The particular varieties of stealth

Though little had changed in the apocalypse, one could go about stealth in many ways. First, there was the kind that left no trace when moving about the world instead of footprints and bent plant stalks and trash left behind by the unsubtle. Another was a thing of scent trails and camouflage that the wind could not betray them. Or the stealth of the powerful when states of the dark with the idea that they move unnoticed if no one is left to notice. The deathclaw moving toward the building he heard talked about through the antenna in his head, perhaps his somewhat a horrific mix of all three.

Anchorage was always listening to America when he heard the voices talk about an old market though they were a little too weak to hear in the vault. He knew REACTOR needed parts from before times that the institute's freedom talked about. Those were the best shiny rock organs instead of the dull things he saw everywhere now. He knew of this cola quantum rock, and it glowed blue like REACTOR's water bowl. More Blue would help REACTOR feel better. He would trade.

Extended travel to the mall place left the deathclaw a decision to blend in. The tunnel to the surface from Vault America was wet and slippy as the hip-sized deathclaw emerged to the surface in the color of dead grass. He rattled around junk piles of metal, appliances, and skulls on the surface until he found what he was looking for. A yelling ball! The sphere with spines sticking about used to float until communists shot it, so he'd taken it home to get the good rocks out. His small vault lunchbox got stuffed in an access panel of the eyebot and closed again. Some things that could see him stayed away from the yelling balls. Neither did the communist meat drones want to get too close to it. He could run faster.

Slit eyes and a pair of curved horns seeming to fade away toward the tips appear above the tall field grass as Anchorage stood up on his tippy claws to look around. Then patches of his skin faded and disappeared. The eyebot clattered then rose off the ground to float into the air as a voice a too far down repeated the radio broadcast. He repeated the [FWOOSH] of the nozzle thing since he was moving with a dancing pitch as he ran toward the mall. The America army had to be near it.

Getting there was a bit difficult as he wasn't exactly sure what communism or chairmen Cheng was lurking in the building. He smelled dangerous things in the wind with a faint pair of slits opening under the eyebot and took in the breeze. He wasn't sure where the America army was, so he climbed up the tree as he took on the bark's color to hide the dead eyebot in a crook of branches. It was easier to find the army from a high place and clung upside down to a branch to hide his eyes, even if communists could see the eyebot.

The movement of people eventually caught his eye though the far distance was fuzzy. They were near a tall rock place where he'd seen light sparkles coming from a window on the side. Maybe that was where the America army was! He swiveled about the branch in a muddy blur of changing colors to get his dead yelling sphere and climbed down from the tree. He jumped the last portion but for the striated color of dead grass to conceal his shape. Blackrock and the meat stone were different and caused a fade from view entirely as the clacking noise of his claws made their way across the highway. A faint oval beneath the yelling sphere as Anchorage held the ball over his head and made the FWOOOOSH noise that the live yelling spheres made to fly. The sound didn't work for him though he knew how to speak it. He didn't like the blackrock strips and was worried as he looked down the lanes. The yelling sphere seemed to stop, jerk, and rotate above the hoods as he looked back and forth. There were too many places for chairmen Cheng to hide here, with so many colors covering them.

A stop at the door for the eyebot to lower allowed Anchorage to sniff down at the ground. The scent of tasty pet meat and two other new scents made their way into the building after he stopped to read the sign. Vinny Army America? One, two, three lines of glass holes to go up, he counted. Though the faint oval of his mouth remained, the eye slits swiped away with his eye covers even if it made the building interior appear washed out and muddy. The walls being closer were comforting when he could hide and not need to see well in the distance. The eyebot leans and pivots around corners silently for the constant thruster FWOOOSH to start back up afterward. He recognized the voice from the voice of Vinny Army America down a hall as he made it to the third floor but not the others there with them.

He wasn't sure if they were hostile communists. An eyebot seemed to 'hover' a foot off the ground as the deathclaw waited to see if the Vinny Army would attack them. The shape of faint thruster 'distortion' under the FWOOSH noise underneath and peeking from behind was less heat plume than deathclaw legs and tail.

 

[Lyrikai]

Lawrence Rapture
PER: 6 | CHA: 5 | AGI: 6​

Malls in general tended to be great hubs of leftover items that would add quite nicely to any wastelander's collection of essentials. Even after looters were to come through and clear places like this out (as they were probably the first places to be targeted by such scavengers), there was always still something left behind. Be it clothing in decent enough shape to be worn, tools and scrap that could be crafted into weapons, or even food that was still in a reasonably edible state... there was always something. The sight of the place was more than enough to beckon any explorer closer to the scene, eager to get in and see what was left behind and useful enough to be carried away.

However, these sorts of places attracted more than just scavengers and curious explorers. they provided shelter for creatures of all shapes and sizes, and they were the perfect ambush spots for those who scavenged on other people rather than a few armloads of twisted metal that could be fashioned into a proper tool again.

Any proper rifleman with a scope would be wanting a better vantage point to scout out the area, the note on the door of the adjacent bank showing he wasn't the only one with that thought. Whether or not it was a good idea to humor this calling and step inside was still up in the air, but step in he did. Opening the door with a quiet creak, Law looked about the lobby, eyes on the stairs that would take him up to the third floor. Wary as he was about this summon, going into that mall alone would have been suicide without at least knowing what was in there danger-wise.

Normally, he wasn't all that keen on meeting strangers and just being around people in general, having some serious worries about how many other bodies might be lurking within this bank, followed by the same beckoning call for looting of the mall in the plaza. He was perfectly passable as just another human, but should anyone learn what he truly was, he constantly worried what the reactions might be. Some people just weren't all that keen on the subject of his kind, and, hell, he wasn't always too keen on the matter either... but it was what it was.

Up the stairs as quietly as he could, he stopped at the third floor. This was where the note said to be. He immediately worried, immediately felt the regrets surging as he entered in through the door and already spotted several other bodies as well as something that made him stop dead right in his tracks.

A Deathclaw? Here? A long barreled rifle wasn't nearly as effective at such a close range as it was for picking off distant shapes, but he gripped it tight never the less, more than ready to defend himself if the need arose. "Uh... H-Hello..?" he tried first like a total idiot.

 

[littlekreen]

EMBRACE DEMOCRACY

ANCHORAGE ALASKA

STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8

The deathclaw's attention drifted to the familiar tingling in his head and the scent of soap in his flaring nostrils as the two ovals of slit eyes appeared with the momentary shimmer of the bronze sclera when he stopped hiding his eyes with the other blinkers so he could see clearly. Freedom was near? The tingling in his horns always whispered he wasn't supposed to attack the freedom rocks. Dark vertical slits in space pivot back and forth in tandem to the hallway before him in sweeping movements, looking for communist infiltrators approaching the three. At least until someone spoke behind him, and the distorted volume behind that broken eyebot stopped the WHOOSH sounds for the four-foot-tall deathclaw's head to curl around with slit eyes that dilate into floating black circles of threat response. His mouth was evident when he spoke if otherwise collapsed to a silent toothy grimace black inside the throat except for the rows of sharp teeth where a head was in the partly-invisible volume. The nostrils flaring open and closed in space smelled the lack of bravado he heard besides the smell of soap. The {you may not eat this} didn't seem to be a communist infiltrator though the threat had a gun pointed at him. He'd been seen.

The small deathclaw's voice launched into a president from a forgotten age bent by holotape recording, then to a bombastic robotic one, though he repeats Vinny's name perfectly if strangely distant,"

The only thing we have to fear is

the spread of Communism.

Vinny

Army America will never fall to Communist invasion!

"

 

[rissa]

---

A few things happened at once.

This is the problem when working with others, Vinny thought to himself with a sigh.

His hands went up consolingly, whereas Misha double fisted two pistols in the blink of an eye-- the hackles of the hound at his feet were raised and her teeth bared. Sachria took three long steps backwards, hands moving slowly towards the buckle that kept her rifle in place, and then she was out of his line of sight. There was movement outside in the hallway, the sound of muffled footfalls, and when the young deathclaw turned his head, Vinny motioned wildly for Misha to lower his weapon.

He did so reluctantly and only upon realizing that the eyebot was defunct and someone else was outside in the hallway.

"The only thing we have to fear is the spread of Communism. Vinny Army America will never fall to Communist invasion!"

"Is that so?" Vinny Duleche said with a half-smile, creeping forward gently, his gut a wreck of nerves, excitement, and confusion. "Well I'm glad that's the case. You've got a weird way of communicating, but hey, I need all the help I can get. I'm glad you answered my call for aid!

"What can I call you?" Vinny asked politely, poking his head out of the doorway once he was close enough, to greet the newcomer and signal that it was okay. "And you...?"

---

@littlekreen @Lyrikai

 

[littlekreen]

EMBRACE DEMOCRACY

ANCHORAGE ALASKA

STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8

Anchorage sets down the eyebot shell under the placating tone of Vinny Army America. With a pack of America allies to cover him the changing refraction of his skin seemed to stretch back into the waters of reality a pale mottled match of the floor and walls. Knelt by his toes a heavy tail outstretched for balance as long claws reach into the back of the eyebot for a small vault lunchbox from a broken panel. The blue and cloud box clatters slightly even carefully held by the handle for soft and hard packages heard beside the rattle of caps. It's clearly been repainted at some point with all the artistic skill a young child can muster.

A thick tail swished with a clang at the side of the eyebot to rise and pivot the coppery caiman eyes to fix on Vinny Army America and that deep robotic bombast proclaims, "

Inflitrator detected. I am Anchorage. I am America.

"¹

The eyebot left behind Anchorage tapped forward a lunchbox at his chest with a ponderous sway of his tail opposite each step his eyes locking on Misha then the angry food. Slices in his sentences became apparent as he spliced in sounds, "

Army America transmission detected. Tactical assessment: Only together can we stop the spread of fusion reactor twenty three percent and communism.

"

He didn't have a sound for a Chairman Cheng of America that was not food but knelt staring right back at the toothy canine trying to figure it out. The mismash of voices this time included that of a fearful girl as he looked up to Misha, "

Chairman Cheng failure.

Arsenal of democracy

here?"

---

[1] Cadence

 

[Nemopedia]

ALBAN
END: 10 | AGI: 10 | LUCK: 9 ​

He was hungry, so hungry all the time. No matter how much he ate, what he ate or how often, it was never enough, that gaping emptiness within him remained and so Alban found himself unable to stop, continuing like old-world's children story 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' kept on eating until it burst from its own cocoon. The call for pre-war cola, the thought of the sweet delirious taste that had dominated the minds of many in the old-world, that sweet promise of sugary goodness.

"America," he heard from a distance when scrolling past the aisles of an abandoned store in the mall. There wasn't much left, not much edible at least, but the word 'America' triggered Alban, caught his attention in that single minded focus and attention he only maintained for food. America, the mythical land of abundance of food and banned sugars, the land of pools of soda to flow through their people's veins instead of blood, the sweet promise of overindulgence and never an empty belly.

"America," Alban repeated as he leaped closer to the sound, his voice low and growling from disuse, heavy and awkward as he came closer, shoulder slouched as if a little afraid, or to make himself smaller than he actually was, though Alban was nothing in height to the Deathclaw while approaching closer.

"Cola?" he questions, eyeing the group, eyeing Vinny, his look as feral as his mind was for that insatiable hunger he felt, the thought of food dominating once more, momentarily having his head turn around into the opposite direction, as if he was about to skit off, before forcing it back.

"Cola, America?" he repeats his words, scattered, as if unable to utter a full sentence.

Then, pointing at himself, as if remembering his manners, he says; "Alban," introducing himself.

 

[rissa]

---

Out of the two freaks that just walked in, Misha much preferred the baby deathclaw, even if it could camouflage itself. With a grunt, Misha holstered his gun completely but side eyed both Vinny and Sachria, subtly motioning to the man who introduced himself as Alban.

Gotta be chem'd out or something, Misha thought to himself with a grimace, reaching down without a thought. The hound curled up between his ankles, staring up at Anchorage with a confused and hesitant look. There was no other thing for her to do, though, she had been commanded. She whined softly, turning her head left and right, trying to figure out what exactly was in front of her.

"Where'd you get that one?" Misha asked, tone accusatory. "That clip of the little girl? You hurt her?"

---

Vinny sighed audibly. He would have smacked himself in the face if he didn't want to keep some amount of decorum.

He knew the risks when he sent out his summons for aid, but it'd been awhile, being around so many differing personalities. Differing trigger-happiness. With an easy, slow grace, Vinny made his way to the wall opposite the main window, to a haphazard pile of half-ruined cushions. He plopped down on the farthest, the one closest to the wall and in the center of the four easels that read off: The Importance of a Battle Buddy. Knowing When to Use a Stimpak. Have you considered using stealth? When to Run, an Autobiography.

"Why don't we all take it a bit easy, huh? There's food in the drawers there," Vinny said soothingly, pointing towards the desks that held the maps, notes, and scope. Each of the large bottom doors were filled with cans of pork n' beans and cram, boxes of fancy lads snack cakes, dandy boy apples, and a few bags of potato crisps. "Please, help yourselves-- you out there in the hallway too!

"I'd like to hear all your stories. Your names. What you're searching for and how I can help. Why don't you start, Anchorage America?"

Vinny had heard about such creatures. None that had ever been released though. Curious.

---

@Nemopedia @littlekreen @Lyrikai​

 

[littlekreen]

EMBRACE DEMOCRACY

ANCHORAGE ALASKA

STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8

Anchorage saw some dogs were for petting with communists on the road, rather than the chairman cheng that attacked him that he'd eat, but he didn't quite understand why the two kinds were different. It was the closest he'd ever been to one they could smell him when he was hiding. He still had some animal instinct however and he'd watched from afar until the wind changed and set them off. Intelligence was the creator of applied instinct leading Anchorage to lift his hind end with a balance of the thick ridged tail while placing his hands outstretched on the floor looking at the dog and imitating a play bow.

Of the people with shame, deathclaws were not one of them, and he stood back up to see what the dog would do as he answered Misha and looked at the drawers at the mention of the snacks of Glory as the voice densely sliced as much as the sharp hands and caiman eyes gesticulated, "

I was up all night

want to go back to the Vault America.

Vinny Duleche talk all the stories.

Go home out there in the vault

drawers.

Forcible glory reward impact detected all Alaska vacate glory to freedom compound. Proceeding to the freedom compound Red Chinese threat detected.

talk about that in the hallway meet

the little girl. The little girl lost looking for

Vault America detected. Probability of subversion: zero percent.

lost back to the

safe freedom compound. American casualties: Unacceptable. Freedom compound

the little girl

help yourselves.

The little girl

is a preferable alternative to communism.

"

He sniffed toward the drawers picking up the scent of food, "

Fusion reactor weakness detected. I restore life reactor. Communist forces cannot succeed.

"

He didn't have a sound for the bottles or the color but he knew what they were. The deathclaw pursed his lips and made a drinking motion. He needed the blue to help REACTOR. Its pool wasn't as blue as it used to be.

 

[Lyrikai]

Lawrence Rapture
PER: 6 | CHA: 5 | AGI: 6​

Lawrence glanced swiftly back and forth between those in the room and the Deathclaw that stood just a short distance away from him. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing. It wasn't attacking, didn't seem aggressive or violent immediately by nature, and spoke? Well, spoke being a relative term based on what bits of garbled holotape recordings it seemed to be spurting out. He wasn't sure just what to make of that whatsoever, but it seemed keen on spouting off about a fight against communism. Age old news. Ancient history long since gone. Law himself knew very little about such matters, but he wasn't a stranger to hearing that old propaganda and rhetoric.

Anchorage. America. What an interesting way it introduced itself. Law was fascinated more than ever, more than he was scared now. He was still on edge, still nervous and wondering if this was truly a good idea at all, but he couldn't deny that his curiosity was getting to him and he crept just a tad bit closer. "Amazing," he breathed, voice barely above a whisper as he asked a rhetorical question at the open air, "How does it do that?"

The other that came up from somewhere behind while he was still struggling with his own turmoil wasn't doing his gut nor mind any better. More like a zombie, perhaps, than a man. What in the hell had he gotten himself into? Humans just on their own any ordinary day of the week were already enough trouble. He tried to fit in, wanted to fit in, wanted so badly to be one of them, so he tried it here. This one introduced himself as Alban and Law made a mental note to keep an eye on him as well. Something about him certainly didn't seem quite right...

Gun barrel pointed at the floor in a show of good faith that he wasn't planning on using it, he finally stepped into the room and set those turmoil aside to say his greetings again where they all could hear. The creature was already gabbing away again in that peculiar way it had and he couldn't help the way he stared as he shuffled past. The words were unsettling; the jump between tones. Voices. Lips parted, he really couldn't stop staring. There was a mention of some 'little girl'. Whether it was a code or an actual child it spoke of, he had no idea, but it was certainly eerie beyond reason.

"Ah.." he finally said when there was a break to speak where he could catch himself. "I'm... My name is Lawrence. Law if you prefer it." He'd been told many times that it suited him better, and he was inclined to agree to an endearing nickname. Usually that meant someone was fond of you, wasn't it? Friends called one another by nicknames. He'd hardly call these folk here friends quite yet as he'd just seen them and spoke for the first time now, still leery, but the offer remained. That olive branch was extended alongside the click of the safety setting securing his weapon from any accidental misfires or the impression that he was coming in here to pick a fight.

"I don't have a story," he answered all too quickly when it was his turn, internally wincing at that particular little defensive instinct. "I mean-I just..." Hiding was second nature, not in a physical sense of ducking behind a desk, but rather the urge to never tell anyone who or what he was. "I'm just a traveler. I saw your message. And places like this, well they always have something left behind in the rubble that can be useful on the road." He looked around the room in honest curiosity and awe. "Can I say? You're awfully trusting of strangers to post such an open invite." He supposed that was either a sign of confidence or foolishness. By the looks of their supplies, Law was leaning towards the first.

 

[PolyesterH]

Jensen Elsher
INT: 10 | PER: 9 | CHA: 6​

Mary
END: 9 | PER: 6 | AGI: 5​

Calm walks on the freeway were pleasant, mostly because they were not particularly painful. Although a few cars screamed for repairs they'd never receive, most had been rendered silent by two centuries of decay. No longer machines, they had no lungs to scream with. Those that continued to babble were good sources for parts, and after cannibalizing a few of their dead neighbors those parts would turn into content merchandise.

It was also the time he was most aware and felt the safest outside of Titanville. The slight crunch of long broken asphalt under the boots of raiders was all he ever needed to hear their approach. Every once in a great while though, he heard something completely different. This was one of those very special times. Even for him, he wasn't able to gather all of it. What he did hear was something about America and Communism.

He looks at Mary, maintaining eye contact with her for a moment as they walk. She didn't need to say anything for him to realize that she hadn't heard what he did. He puts his head forward, continuing his way to the back. Now at the bank itself, the screams and whispers of the building began slowly biting into his synapses.

Some of the machines were far louder than the others, almost impossible to ignore. He followed them upstairs, the noises gradually growing louder. He was used to the level of noise, even as he went through the second floor staircase. He quietly spoke to Mary on the way through the second floor.

"U4, S4:15: C4:30, C6, C7, and C6:30. Take point."

Nodding at the orders, Mary went ahead up the stairs. Following behind, Jensen's brow furrowed in irritation as they got closer. She was the first of the two to enter the room, rifle slung over her shoulder and revolver at her hip. She took a hard, long look at the people within. The deathclaw that was very clearly wearing some sort of radio device and not attacking anyone. The cleanest person she ever saw in the wasteland, even more so than the ones that made her back home. Her eyes narrow and her shoulders drop, jaw open slightly and mouth pointed downward. Granted, the latter two facts were concealed by her clothing.

Jensen comes up behind her with his rifle similarly slung. Seeing that hostilities hadn't begun, he steps into the room himself. The sight of Anchorage forces his furrowed brow to reconfigure itself, instead squishing together. A few rapid blinks show up as he stares, facilitated by the pain. However, his education and family history pays dividends as his posture relaxes and he gives a nod at everyone else in the room. Giving a look at Anchorage's radio and the rest of their body, he finally settles upon making eye contact.

"You don't find intelligent Deathclaws very often."

His tone is perfectly even and non judgemental. After a brief pause, he adds a question.

"Is this your pack, or did you respond to the call as well?"

Mary's confusion is not alleviated by Jesen treating the situation as if it were perfectly normal. She does, however, get a hold of her facial expression and flattens it. Choosing to not focus on the Deathclaw in the room, she instead comments to Lawrence.

"You're... clean."

...Because of her tone it comes off as rude.

 

[littlekreen]

Jensen technomancy

As he got closer, Anchorage turned to look as the radio forever listening became more apparent. The radio reported two antennae with negligible impact damage that twitched and flexed its output as it drained the signal into a deep warm crackle where there wasn't a machine anymore. Like a human shape turning into something lesser when one puts a light on it as the parts it was attached to quietly moaned now that he was closer. Then the radio started monitoring signals again as the fire tuned values from beneath. An IFF still allowed some ashen shade of its duty familiar to the fire faintly chirped through parts of the crackling warmth surfacing its signals as the deathclaw regarded Mary for a split moment: {not Rock Rock, [CRACKLE], do not eat this} then Jensen himself {Unknown noncombatant}.

Other shambling parts of the implant show it something similar to the one in Mary's head as if someone had tried to put a synth component into the deathclaw. All that was there of a whole object now were ineffectual cries of failure to initiate control from a part that had lost connection to everything and the failure of a first salvo that clearly at one point only accomplished annoying a conflagration with an alert as to the threat's existence. Something a blaze of a mind promptly reacted to by wrapping a clawed fist around the machine's soul and squeezing until it suddenly found awareness of self in its grip. Now the implant-connected transceiver was to a machine what a ghoul was to a human. The body worked and trundled along as directed, but now every spark of the implant's agency was hot coals in the fire that still moved to some foreign agency. If there was any proper moan from the shambling device, it was some foreign code constantly proselytizing about patriotism and America. As if the deathclaw had somehow copied code from somewhere else.

Elsewhere, a monocyte breeder implant is quietly reporting low blood glucose levels, and to repair this with Glory. Still, its mangled but functional voice was fading in and out in pieces as it poured operational status reports into the conflagration below and received commands in turn.

The parts with the robotic voice likely had a strange echo to Jensen. However, there was a {Not found, stored} error reported somewhere as Anchorage tilted his head as he heard the word for his kind, "

Affirmative. Anchorage

Deathclaw pack

America. America Anchorage freedom shelter fusion core: Compromised,

" Anchorage paused with a rub of one arm, trying to think of how to describe the blue and the toothy maw chopped out in that robotic bombast, "

Freedom shelter reactor aquatic photonic weakness.

Vinny

Army America acquired aquatic photonic. Signal detected I am pursuit of reward of valor. Freedom lies in being together defending Life, Liberty, America.

Who are you?

pack

America?

"

 

[PolyesterH]

As both the radio and Anchorage speaks to them, Jensen pays close connection to both as his mind runs in parallel. The setup at least wasn't screaming at them, which was a marked improvement over most improvised devices. The foreign code was an issue with the setup but he didn't have the equipment to solve the software issue. No, far more pressing was the synth parts existing in them at all. Anchorage obviously didn't stick the part in him themselves, but that brings up the question of who did. It'd probably have to happen early on, and no sane person would capture a baby Deathclaw to perform this kind of experiment. No, far more probable was that Anchorage was bred on site and moved to wherever he is now later after escaping.

The USSA had done FEV experiments before, but the Clique mostly were the ones interested in that these days. Anchorage looked young too if his memory of biology served him right, so it couldn't have been more than a few years. That's well within the time frame of the Cliques control. Either the USSA was doing this and he had a lot to tell the Senator back home or-

He stops his thought process as Anchorage rubs his arms, putting his attention on them. He broke down the next line sentience by sentence. The only freedom shelter that'd have a nuclear reactor is a vault. Vinny was the one giving the quest and was after Nuka-Cola Quantum. Apparently they understood the situation enough to send them here. Having put together the meaning, he spoke his conclusion out loud.

"You want to repair your Vault's reactor systems with Nuka-Cola Quantum."

Saying it felt good, like the conclusion to a puzzle. If he's in the vaults reactor system that means its likely uninhabited and unlooted. Then again, it wouldn't explain why it was working this late. It was doubtful there were people to let the Deathclaw stay there. There would be a treasure trove of technology in there he could take. Maybe even a G.E.C.K. God, what a find that'd be. Maybe they could purify the radioactive materials in the area, like they planned to a long time ago. That'd be an easy Segway into getting the trust of the region. Hell, now that he knew this maybe he was the Dreamer who was supposed to save America. Still, he had to leave enough to keep the vault working. But there'd be plenty he could take without issue for the Vault. He'd prefer not to be the one to go down there, he hated how noisy it was in those, but there's no one else.

He looked at Anchorage with a smile that met his eyes. This entire thought process going over in two seconds.

"That's not a bad idea at all. That sounds like something I'd Jury-Rig together. You'll definitely want to de-carbonate the soda before putting it in or else it'd damage the reactor. I can help with that if you want, maybe even fix whatever else is the problem. My name is Jensen, and this is Mary. It's a pleasure to meet you."

 

[rissa]

---

Ah, Vinny thought as he leaned back to survey the room from his vantage point. This is why I keep callin' folks together. The nuances between 'em. It's beautiful. He watched Sachria from the corner of his eye, her back finding purchase against the nearest corner and becoming still— as still and motionless as a statue as she conducted her own survey. When she gathered that blood would not need to be shed, Vinny saw her chest expand again and again as she took in air greedily. Like a good little Happy Camper, then, hm? Interesting.

He hid a smirk as his eyes moved elsewhere, to the hulking form of Misha delicately picking through the right drawer, seemingly divvying up all that was there. Vinny grimaced slightly when the half-giant grabbed a box of Fancy Lad's, his head still thrumming from the box that was thrown at his head. He continued browsing after that, realizing he'd missed the pair's entry until Mary spoke. His head whipped around at her tone and this time he reacted on instinct, facepalming himself silly. Oh Mary, that's just not how we do things round here.

Vinny twisted slightly, positioning himself better so he could do some quick damage control, but noticed the conversation between Anchorage Alaska and Mary's partner, Jensen. Better than his partner at least. Tone's good. A bit too controlled, but, ah—

It'll be aight. Always ends up aight. Just gotta have faith in that.

Vinny cleared his throat softly, glancing between Law, Jensen, and Mary. To the former who was indeed as clean as Mother Mary so righteously pointed out, Vinny said, "We all have stories, Law, but you ain't gotta share it if you don't want to." He winked at his fellow wastelander in recognition of his earlier statement, but decided not to comment. Instead, he reached up and with a pull (and then several more, as it wasn't wanting to unroll) unfurled a half-deteriorated projection screen that had scribbles and hand drawn maps all over it.

Sharp eyes would notice it was a larger and more detailed rendition of the maps sitting across the room. In the margins all around the map were half-legible notes that Vinny had personally gathered. He looked proud of himself, albeit distracted. Before he could get started, he looked over at Anchorage and Jensen, "Would that really work? Fixin' a reactor with some Nuka Cola Quantum?" His eyes were wide, dazzled by the thought. Then it clicked.

He scratched his head as he pondered over something painful before turning back to Anchorage. "How big's yer vault, lil man? The rest of yer pack's there, yeah? How many Quantum's are ya gunna need to fix it up right?"

Vinny looked over at Alban, unsure, but as always, ever gracious. "And you, Alban, how many will sate your thirst for cola?"

---

@Nemopedia @littlekreen @Lyrikai @PolyesterH

Visual Reference

1. Subterranean Hatch
   Note beside entry: Don't know what's down the hatch, ghouls always crowding it. Odd that it's not a stairwell like the others though.
2. Nifty Thrifty's
   Note beside entry: Half tore apart from the looks of it, but there's three stories of goods there.
3. Lakeside Clinic and Pharmacy
   Note beside entry: Located on the 2nd floor, right in front of the defunct double elevators. Seems to be well stocked. It IS well stocked, but only because it was locked and rigged from the inside forever and a day ago. Worth a look if it can be disarmed though, as it seems to have part of the 3rd floor sectioned off.
4. Atomatoys
   Note beside entry: Front's all smashed in on all three stories, but there's sure to be somethin' good, even if it's just scrap.
5. Hoja Dulce, Tobacco Depot
   Note beside entry: This place is all boarded up. Lots of ghouls back that way. Maybe there's an entry from the other side.
6. Exellesice, Music Emporium
   Note beside entry: Spans the first and second floor. Prayin' there's a harmonica in there for me.
7. Oaksea Day Spa
   Note beside entry: Scrappers heaven with those weird helmet things.
8. Doghouse
   Note beside entry: Lots of canned rations in there.
9. ??? Mysterious Structure ???
   Note beside entry: Kinda looks like a house, but the ghouls basically swarm the back of the mall, so it's hard to tell.
10. General Atomics International
    Note beside entry: A scrappers heaven.
11. Hubris Comics Outlet
    Note beside entry: The windows are all boarded up from the inside. Can't tell much but if it's untouched, it just may be a treasure trove.
12. Steve-o's Sporting Goods
    Note beside entry: Front's a lil messy, but there's some racks in the back still packed with goods.
13. Nuka Cola Distributions
    Note beside entry: The backside of the mall is CRAWLIN' with ghouls, but gettin' chased up that tree was a God send. There's a roof hatch and an admittedly very unsafe looking catwalk. But it's gotta be the ticket in outside of takin' all them ghouls out one by one.

 

[PolyesterH]

Mary winces at the facepalm. There went Jensen again, making an ass of himself by being the know it all with the tone of a flat board. He's a good man that means well but he's not good at realizing the consequences of his social actions. Vinny's response finally took attention away from her. Thank God, genuinely. That was way too awkward. Hopefully she'd never need to open a conversation again and can just be left to her thoughts for once. Then again, Jensen's always hearing them. That give her an idea, but not now.

Jensen was aware of Mary's blatant misinterpretation of the situation but long accepting that he can't be bothered to correct him. The change to explain how the improvisation worked also gave him the change to push away the sense of dread Mary's current thought process gave him.

"It's possible if you had enough. The radioactive isotopes in the cola can be isolated and repurposed. How many Quantum's you need depends on the size of the problem and the vault. I only need a sample and Mary doesn't like soda, so both of ours can got to them when we head on our way over."

Mary glances at Jensen. She would like to try it, actually. Jensen doesn't let him being wrong disrupt his thought process, instead pushing it off by taking a look at the map. Yeesh. Not only was it hand drawn very roughly, he didn't even get floor plans together. It'd be hard to make a tactical map out of this. At least he signed out the locations of interests. The comic place, of all things, sticks out to them. People back home would pay an arm and a leg for some of those comics and magazines. He also wanted to take a look at that structure, mostly for his own curiosity. Tobacco sold shockingly well. He saw a carton go for 35 caps a few times.

"I know a place to copy and print magazines, I'd like to head in there and grab a few of them. The structure would be interesting to look at. As for the pharmacy, I can disarm the traps in the clinic no problem. I'm going to see if I can spot anything else form here."

As he steps away, Mary hands him her rifle. With a nod, he goes over and looks out the window through the scope. Mary stands next to him as he looks out, trying to look at what he's staring at to no avail.

It's good he didn't say anything, the map was dead on accurate. Its not a great tactical map but at least its a good guide. Its definitely what he'd mention. His eyes fall on the fountain. All but two central pillars are broken and submerged. Given his comment, and the fact he's been scouting the area for a while... He must have treaded through that. He turns to the rest of the group, handing Mary back her rifle.

"You did a good job with the map. It's basically perfect. Two things I will note. The parking garage goes up two floors and has a caved in window with some debris sticking out. It's a two to five foot jump to the other side. There's also a fire escape on the back of the mysterious structure and parking garage. You can get access to the roof from there."

 

[littlekreen]

EMBRACE DEMOCRACY

ANCHORAGE ALASKA

STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8

While they'd taught him numbers, they had lived in particular orders in his head. So he picked a quantity in the order about the amount he thought there were people, It was still hard to say precisely what he meant even if there were so many new sounds. He looked at Vinny and Jensen as they described the mall and waited to speak until they were done. He would follow and help the pack hunt the communists and if he were a good America he would get quantum so he could fix the reactor. Especially if there was another pack that knew how. Anchorage didn't know how but he would have tried.

In the meantime, he turned to tap over to where Misha was moving food around though Anchorage's presence likely made the dog uncomfortable. Anchorage paid the dog no direct mind even if he had hidden so long his stomach made sounds; only communists ate their pack.

He chattered his answer to Jensen and Vinny once the description was done and was a tiny absolute terror of the errant raider sleeping too close to the vault when he'd first arrived until they wisely vacated,

I escape to the vault find caved

Chairman Cheng. Overkill protocols authorized to restore democracy. Scanning compound overkill Chairman Cheng.

Hurt

area red menace and America safe. Persuit of happiness. Scanning external subterranean for freedom compound. Quantum compromised Anchorage system analysis inadequate. Protection protocols engaged!

Vault pack

Anchorage detection communism inadequate

the little girl her

good America.

The rest of pack's

good 822 America. Anchorage

thing we have to fear is

America communism detection Anchorage inadequate.

Pack don't find mysterious deathclaws. Repair vault

America power core and America analysis Anchorage Alaska is America.

The deathclaw had his eyes on the fancy lads box as soon as he saw it and set the heavy lunchbox down on the ground nearby and opened it. With a layer of thick metal opened that had been in the way, a biometric sensor quietly assessed if a deathclaw hand stayed long enough to warrant turning on. Code quietly decided no. so the power switch went back to sleep. The lid promptly latched closed as the deathclaw removed a hefty chunk of molerat jerky clad in a scrap of clean poster - at least before the unattended poster was rudely made into wrappers. The inside had more of them since Anchorage packed food he made for the trip but would trade meat for the snack cakes. He could get more meat.

He pointed to the fancy lads box while offering the wrapper, "

Glory?

"

 

[rissa]

He hadn't really been paying attention, pairing up and dividing the rations between who all was here, but when the partners saddled up to the window he watched them out of the corner of his eye. They worked well together, in his estimation, always hovering at each other's back, shifting unconsciously towards each other when one moved out of range. When Jensen pulled the scope away from his eye and started doling out information he jerked his head up and paid attention.

"Fire escapes are always handy. My vote of entry." Misha said softly, moving his attention back towards the food.

There was a metallic clang and he looked up, staring blankly at the offering in Anchorage's hand. The hound at his feet whined, shimmied around and between his legs as her natural instincts clashed against the command given to her only a few minutes ago. She whined and whinnied, a painfully pathetic sound as she blocked Misha with her body. Half-sitting against the desk, Misha placed a comforting hand atop her head, scratching behind an ear as he considered the offer. None of this food was his, so the deathclaw needn't trade to begin with, but it went a long way in Misha's book, in deciding that it wasn't a complete monster.

"You like them, 'Lads, huh?" Misha said aloud, holding the box up as he inspected the jerky. "Here," he said as he traded one for the other. "Glory for glory."

 

[Lyrikai]

Lawrence Rapture
PER: 6 | CHA: 5 | AGI: 6​

The first thing that really truly managed to tear Lawrence's gaze away from the deathclaw was the introduction of yet more folk to this little party. Of course they, too, noticed Anchorage. He was the metaphorical elephant in the room. One didn't often just stumble across such a creature that appeared friendly, docile, and capable of communicating. Most unfortunate travelers that ran across the big wild ones in the wastelands didn't get the chance to tell their stories to anyone after on, well, on account of being ripped apart and eaten by them. There was a reason they were called deathclaws, after all.

Catching a comment all his own directed at himself, the synth glanced down briefly at his own attire, his own body, giving a short, "Ah.." in response. Well, it certainly wasn't a wrong examination to make. "I'm, uh-Yeah." What the hell did he even say in response to that? Yeah. I hate being dirty in this filthy barren wasteland of dust and muck and mud. "I try my best. Thanks for... noticing." Yeah, that sounded like a good response, right? All of a sudden he felt rather self conscious, like even more than he already always did.

Slowly his arms folded tight across his chest, hugging close to his body. Part of him wished he had never stepped foot in this room, and that same part was screaming in the back of his skull to just get the hell out of there before he made a fool of himself.

Still, the bigger part of him was too curious and too fascinated with these characters to back away now. Of course, it was also that there was that mall out there potentially filled to the brim with so much loot that he couldn't pass up the chance to go rooting through the place... and that would be much safer with a group than picking at it alone and taking the chance.

"So..." he spoke up after a moment, "You can... do that? Fix a reactor with a Nuka Cola?" Okay. Nuka Cola Quantum, but still. It was just a soda, wasn't it? Was it really so reactive? And people seriously drank that crap?!? Boy, humans sure were crazy sometimes.

He really just had to let that one process in his brain for a while as he took the chance to study the map Vinny showed them. "You've... planned this for a while, huh?" To have a map all at the ready and everything. It was impressive. Okay, so definitely not all humans were crazy all the time. Some were clever and resourceful.

 

[PolyesterH]

Jensen pays astute attention to Anchorage's story with an earnest smile. Flashes of recognition go through Jensen's eyes as they speak. Chairman Cheng, the Communist Despot of China before the Great War. There was no doubt that part of Anchorage's database came from a well maintained source. The fact he was talking about hostiles wasn't lost on him. Of particular interest was the inevitable conclusion, he definitely escaped from somewhere relatively close if he found his way into the vault and is as young as they are. Anchorage left of their own accord. That's a good character trait, a self starter.

Most important of all was that there were other inhabitants of the vault, none of which were Deathclaws like him. That meant they were human, and not just that humans that had been almost entirely un-mutated from the wasteland's radiation. Hell, they'd be receptive to a member of the US Government showing up and offering help. They may even hand over what they have willingly in return for a long term relationship with Titanville if he helped but didn't solve anything.

Mary looks at Lawrence, and her words take the wind straight out of Jensen's sails. As far as she was concerned, this man may have a secret source of a large amount of fresh water, or a purifier. Both of them would be very good to know about, so naturally she asks,

"Where do you get all that water? You must go through a lot."

At that fleeting moment, Jensen wanted nothing more than to walk out of the room, go back down the highway, go all the way back to Titanville, lock himself in his home, and never talk to anyone again. The prospect of interacting with people had been momentarily shattered by Mary's complete and utter inability to not make an ass of herself. He knew Lawrence was uncomfortable. Ridiculously so. Why would anyone do that?

Before he fully sinks into the thought process, he course corrects. He can salvage the situation. All he needs to do is change the subject. He clears his throat, loudly. Eagerness creeps into his voice for the first time in the conversation.

"I'm glad you asked. Although most Nuka-Cola today has a radioactive reading and ingestion in large quantities can result in ration poisoning over a period of months, before the Great War standard Nuka-Cola contained no radioactive isotopes. This was not so with Nuka-Cola Quantum. You see, way back before the Great War the US government created a project known as Project Cobalt. In this project, they experimented with radioactive compounds before discovering a Strontium-90 Isotype they called 'Quantum'. Although lacking use in military applications, it was found that a modified version produced a very pleasing taste. This was put into the soft drink as part of a precision recipe. Unfortunately, they never got onto store shelves outside of the Washington-DC area. The Great War started the same day it was officially release. As for applications, although Stronium is less radioactive than Uranium and thus does not work as well for a reactor, 'Quantum' does possess special properties in the presence of radiation. Its able to store energy. Depending on how you use it, it can be an excellent heat sink or an energy source if you isolate the Stronium."

Of course, he was lying about a lack of military applications. Though the Enclave never managed to keep its hands on the results of the research, weaponization of the isotope was very possible. His brow furrows. He really did just speak for almost a solid minute, didn't he? Well, at least no one is thinking about Mary now.

 

[littlekreen]

EMBRACE DEMOCRACY

ANCHORAGE ALASKA

STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8

It had taken several weeks to process the recordings of the president until frustrated scientists finally figured out how to get Anchorage to be able to use them in parts instead of in whole. It was then that they'd figured out the happenings in his brain where speech synthesis development maladapted to include segmented components of the implant. It had affected his ability to do the same to synths which was somewhat of a problem but not bad enough to terminate the project until he eventually escaped in chaos.

Though his mind did record radio he heard as well and with a life spent exposed to nothing but synths and evading people in paranoia hadn't understood that the real people weren't communist drones until he met Spark. Though the mind's eye of a child didn't see traitors and took everyone at face value while an alpha predator's mind sorted beings into hard categories.

Anchorage flipped his long fingers back as he let go of the jerky and knuckled the box of Glory from Misha then gave a bent-posture salute with an excited rate of speech in the dilated caiman eyes, "

'lads

is the reward of valor. Patriotism subroutines engaged.

"

He closed his mouth and sniffed at the dog that smelled of fear with a tilt to his head. He wanted to pet the head too but didn't want to get bitten either. Instead he turned away as the thick tail lazily curled around to counterbalance him and sat down on the ground nearby. The oversized metal lunchbox set down on the ground he put the fancy lads box on the ground between his outstretched legs as the arms faded then vanished up to blurry nubs of his shoulders.

He pretended he was eating them with mind powers like the stories he heard while heading south and the voice of an announcer said quietly as Jensen droned on, "Death has come for you, evildoer. And I am its Shroud."

The box flaps sprung open as sharp claws popped the glue with strangely soft imitations of radio gunshots as he speared one of the fancy lads with a claw and it seemed to levitate out of the box as he went on and slit one end of the wrappers. Soft unemphatic copies of the voices following that line in the program came as he popped one then another in his open mouth, "Agggh! Nooo!"

He chewed on the two snack cakes and the voice was somewhat mumbled as he did so peering in the box then pulled the remaining packets of glory out, "My work here is done. Or is it?"

The arms shortly reappeared showing the snack levitation rather less mind powers than a childish fiction and opening his lunchbox lid away from the desk with the other hand. A shuffle of packets filling the top layer and Misha could likely see him stuff the two precious snacks under a pipboy with pristine stimpacks, tapes, and dirty caps. He felt a little better as he got some of the good glory in him but took out a jerky for him to eat too as he closed the thick lid and squeaky latch.

Anchorage looked at the map and it took him a moment understand what it was. They said it was the buildings he stopped to look at on the way. Though he ran through a drain on the edge of the place and he had to double back. A long finger pointed at the fountain lake as sharp teeth effortlessly sliced off jerky to partly mumble Vinnie, Misha, and now Jensen's voices, "

Thirst

escapes are

debris sticking out. I not access to.

"