EMBRACE DEMOCRACY
ANCHORAGE ALASKA
STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8
There were many reasons not to attempt to sneak up on deathclaw. One was their surprising flexibility despite their remarkably average agility. They didn't turn on a dime, but the blue/purple caped deathclaw could use its thick tail as a tripod to arc its head and torso entirely backward in a reverse C to wave upside-down at Law with the pipboy hand.
The deathclaw was perfectly happy talking at Law upside down, "
Law
Massachusets
movin' with pack, yeah?
"
Anchorage flipped himself back upright in a majestic flutter of his blanket cape in a quick toddle forward next to Sachira and Vinny. He listened to Jensen's explanation of the vault but needed help understanding more of what Jensen said it had in it. There were so many new words in his head now.
Knuckling the light so his packmate could see well he looked up to Sachira with a bounce on his toes and tail, "
I take a peek
I hear
compound reward. Detect communism!
"
A long finger and claw pointed to the eyebot he'd brought in. It didn't have a lot of empty space, and he didn't want to carry something that might roll away. He explained as best he could with pauses for thought, "
Need drawer for
compound reward.
Stairwell drawer outside silent.
"
He took off into the dark of the building ruined by nuclear war and time the flashlight more than enough for the area to be daylight to him. Eyeshine from slit eyes reappears in the murk above his pip-boy light as sandpaper skin darkens reflexively to lighting into navy and violet, staring back to see if they were looking at him and following. Satisfied that the pack saw where he was going made an about-face with a curly swish of his tail that put a dent in the wall he hugged. Left to the nearest door rather than continue up the stairs, a loud clatter and splinter of wood came as he headbutted the door. The light gave a slightly lensed nimbus about his body as he exerted strength to destroy. Dry-rotted frame erupts lacquered hardwood door from its hinges from the force to sail between office desks. An entry projectile to bisect a long-beleaguered office chair sitting at the end of the lane. Yet more detritus to add to what was strewn by an explosion from the broken pane glass window further left on an outside wall.
Anchorage took a deep breath and
loosed an adult-sounding roar. However, the small deathclaw lacked the lung capacity yet to give it quite the resonant thundering quality it deserved. He figured communists would just run away. His horned head bobbles back and forth in rapid swishes as he takes in the area. Smelling out the electronics that still had sparks to make their little squeaks in the dark. There were a few, and he tapped over to a desk and pulled at the metal desk drawer. He didn't pay much attention to the snap noise as the simple drawer lock sorely failed to convince a deathclaw of the need for its existence, and the handle proved more robust. He sniffed about and tossed papers onto the floor since he didn't read well and didn't need fire.
He extracted a milk bottle, sniffed it, gagged at it, and then placed it on the desk. That one was dry and rotten. Then he grabbed another bottle, unscrewed the cap carefully, sniffed that too, rankled his snout in a scrungle at the scent, then put the lid back on and put that on the desk too. Rotten not water. He licked the roof of his mouth to get the scent out of it and pulled out a two-pack of fusion cores to bobble his head at. Yes, that was the little dark squeaker. He considered removing the mostly empty drawer since it was like the one Vinny Army America used, but he thought the long box would be hard to carry.
The deathclaw shot up into the dark with a bobble of his head; there were still dark squeakers nearby! Further away. Not too far. He made a few steps on his tiptoes, bobbled when they squeaked, moved a few steps again toward them, bobbled, then eyed the bookcase near the rear wall. Little spark squeakers under the bookcase? The squeaking got louder as he got closer and bobbled his head repeatedly along the shelves trying to suss out where they were hidden. A hand pushed off a row of binders to the floor and pointed his pipboy light at a hole behind them. There was a carry box!
Tongue out one side as he stretched an arm to pull it out of the dusty carry box to see what was in it. The packaging was strange, different from the plastic of the other one, and took a lot of room. So anchorage took the plastic packaging out of the box and bit it to sever the end off, then pulled the case with its motors and mechanical things out of the long end. He turned his head and hurled the waxy-tasting package away with his teeth for a wobbly aged latex wrapping to careen into the air across the walkway. The little squeakers were easier to get to, but he couldn't get switches out of the package, so he had to cut wires with a claw. At least foams came out of the carry cases! He had to show Misha and Sachira the new carry box! It had a handle and latches!
Thus a celebratory baby deathclaw arrived at them with a little more than foot-long pill-shaped carrying case and held it up so they could see. There were so many words now! The words clipped even harder as he tried to assemble what it said, "
miss
us
bl
as
ter
Power is sto Red In the
bal
s.
"
He didn't have the right words to make the last sound work, but he thought he did well! He bounced at his discovery to relate it while blissfully ignorant of his find's enormous consequences. Thus opened the box to show the thing containing mechanicals and motor, "
Compound reward.
There's
communist
food in the drawers there. Tin useful scraps? I rummage around more, huh?
"