Postapocalyptia Parables: Project Green Sea

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December 21st 2327. Noon. The Valley - 20 miles north of New Manchester.


On the broken-down freeway known as The Valley, a lone figure could be seen travelling north. It wasn't the most sane decision to be travelling actually on the freeway, it was completely destroyed in parts meaning one would have to climb off, cut across rocky, rubble-ridden ground and climb back on. Plus the elevation meant that you could quite easily catch the notice of any hostiles that might be paying attention. Not very sane, it was, but then again, the sanity of the traveler was questionable at best.

Mr Farson, once Dr Farson, maintained a steady pace north. Garbed in a tattered grey suit and a red baseball cap, his wide, crazy eyes were fixed on the road ahead, unconcerned with his own safety. How on earth he'd managed to survive the harsh conditions of the Wasteland for this long, only God could know. Perhaps fate was keeping him alive... just long enough to find someone who would listen to him.

The Truth was his next - perhaps his last - hope.

"Why hello there!"

The voice took Farson by surprise, so much so that the man reeled backward, tripped on a stone and fell onto his back. He fumbled clumsily for his snub-nose 38.

"Relax, stranger, I'm not going to hurt you."

Farson paused for a moment, then looked at his ambusher. It was a boy. A young man even, scruffy as they come, unarmed and staring at him with a smile. Farson scrambled to his feet and surveyed the lad in more detail. He had spiky black hair and ice-blue eyes that never stopped moving. When he asked Farson his name; "My name...?" The ex-scientist scratched his cheek. "My name is Jack Farson."

"Well, Jack, my name's Fenn. Fenn Talismon. And you look like you could use a good meal." It was true, Farson hadn't eaten properly since yesterday morning. But he didn't know what this young man could offer him. Fenn looked liked he hadn't eaten in weeks. "You fancy having lunch with me and my friends. We live in that building there." Fenn pointed off to the warehouse no more than a 500 yards to the east. "We've got plenty to spare and never turn away travelers on The Valley. Wha'd'ya say?"

Farson was arguably mad, and certainly desperate and dehydrated, but this was not enough to eradicate the healthy dose of paranoia and suspicion he'd worked up over the recent weeks. "No thank you. I'm in a hurry."

Fenn, with those strange constantly-moving eyes waved away the rejection. "Aw, come on, mate. You look haggard, you do. Come and put your feet for a few hours. You'll feel better for it, I promise you."

"No thank you." Farson starting walking again, one hand clamped firmly on the butt of his holstered weapon. He hurried past, giving Fenn a wide birth. The young man watched him intensely, paying particular attention to the clear threat of Farson's gun.

"Suit yourself, then, stranger."

Farson kept checking behind him as he pressed on north. The first couple of times, he saw that Fenn was still watching him. But then the lad was gone. Farson quickened his pace.

***

New Manchester. McCaffy's Saloon. The night before.


Farson stalked around the saloon, waving his hands like a lunatic. "Tens of hundreds of children...! Taken for the experiments!"

McCaffy, who was drying metal tankards with a towel, had heard enough. This was a place for folk to come and get away from the troubles of the wasteland. He didn't need some mad-man drifter spoiling the mood. It had been funny at first. A right laugh. Now it had gone too far.

"Alright, wastelander, shut your noise," he demanded, whipping the towel over his shoulder and placing both hands flat on the bar. He was a large man with muscle enough that he could handle himself and any trouble that might come to his saloon. "If you wanna buy something, then bring your scrawny arse to the bar. Otherwise, get out of my saloon."

Farson looked at McCaffy for a moment, madness in his eyes. Then he turned about and continued his rant. "They're building an army. A great, big... huge army that will wash through the Wasteland with the force of a nuclear bomb!"

"That's it. Johnny, get the sheriff." Johnny the pot-collector nodded and disappeared out the batwing doors. McCaffy came around the bar and gripped Farson by the scruff of his neck.

"First Britain... Then the world!" were the last words Farson managed to spill before being dragged out of the saloon and tossed into the street.

"Go spit your nonsense, somewhere else, ye crazy pillock," McCaffy said.

The Sheriff came quickly, and when Farson tried his spiel once more, he was thrown out of town.

[Acacia Sage]

"Hannah, I'm going out for food. What are you in the mood for?"

Hannah was sprawled across the ground, objects scattered around her. There were a few knives, a few arrows, and a swath of dirty cloth that she'd had for as long as she could remember. Currently, she was running the fabric along the blunt edge of a knife, methodically scrubbing certain areas and skipping over others. So into her task, she didn't even hear her brother until he stamped his foot on the ground. The wood beneath her shook. She frowned, looking up at him.

"What?"

Jax sighed, running his leather-gloved hands over his face. He was exhausted, beyond exhausted, and all he really wanted to do was curl up and sleep. His clothing was heavy, his two guns like lead rocks on his hips. But he was also very hungry and he knew that if he didn't go out, they'd never eat. "I asked what you wanted to eat."

Hannah set down her knife and stood, wiping her hands against the fabric of her pants. They were coarse, tight leather and they were her favorite; easy to bend in and malleable. Her combat boots clambered loudly on the wooden floor. "You're going out for food?" She asked, eyes shining with slight disbelief. One corner of her lip quirked up into a smile. "Don't you mean next door to Darren's?"

Darren's wasn't really next door and he wasn't really their neighbor. He was a man of about thirty who had a shack about five miles into the desert. He sold food and other items out of it for the right price. Usually, the two siblings didn't have to pay. Darren liked two things: gold and women. And Hannah was one of those. It was sick and twisted but every time they went to him for food, he got a photo fo hannah that they'd taken with an old Polaroid camera Henrietta had given them as children. While some might have frowned upon it, Hannah wasn't the type to shy away from such things, as long as she got something out of it in the end.

In the Wasteland, food was hard to come by. Well, good food anyway. And while Hannah would have been fine with half-rotten fruits and snake meat that they'd roasted over a fire, her brother had more refined tastes. He would take a good meal whenever he could get one. Good to him was cow meat or corn that hadn't been picked up from the ground.

Jax glared. "Oh, haha. Whatever, Hannah. Did you want anything or not?"

Hannah shook her head. She hated Darren and she hated taking food from him. The only reason that she put up with him was because of her brother. The two were friends. "No. Go. Be back by sundown."

Jax shook his head. "You know I will be." He pushed aside the flap of leather covering their doorway, and left. There had once been a door there, but it had been knocked down and they had yet to gather enough wood to fix it.

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"Yup," told the old man. "Headed on down that road, right there. A few cakes short of a picnic, that one." Dante joined the old man in looking west. The road that had once been, marked the way, although it was now little more than broken up strips of dark-grey tarmac in a sea of earth, concrete and relics of the old world. Still, the old roads continued to be followed by wanderers and traders.

"Did he say where he was going?" Dante asked. To the west of here lay New Manchester, and beyond that was The Pool, aswell as a few other smaller settlements. But New Manchester was where the Valley started and there was always a chance that his quarry could turn north there, going deeper into the wasteland. The old man shook his head and Dante narrowed his eyes in disappointment as he looked west. It wasn't all bad. When the rumours had first reached Dante's ear about this lunatic who was preaching about government conspiracy or some such radical ideas, and Dante had set out to look for him, he got onto the trail only three days behind. Now he was just one night behind the mad man. He'd have his answers soon.

The old man, who was a lead scavenger of Bullring Town, eyed the wasteland wanderer suspiciously. "What do you want with this guy, anyway? Bloomin' mad, he is. You'll get no sense out of him, I'll tell you straight." Dante ony half-heard the inquiry as he absently rubbed his jaw, pondering his next move. It was late, and roads in the dirty south of the Wasteland were often dangerous, but if he travelled through the night, he could be at New Manchester by... "Hey? I'm talking to you."

"Hmm," Dante turned his head to regard the old man, then realized his question. "I just want to talk to him, that's all."

"Then you'll go mad too. Mark my words, I'll tell you straight. Mad as a Brahmin with no balls."

Dante decided he'd just about had enough of this colourful old man and so he nodded a farewell, offering the man a few caps for his troubles. As the sun dropped behind the western horizon, Dante started toward New Manchester.

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He arrived at New Manchester the next day around an hour after noon. It had just started raining. "State your business," said the guard on the gate.

"Repair," Dante replied, gesturing to the hunting rifle that hung, under his arm, from a rawhide strap looped around his shoulder. The rifle was scratched up and bent a little. The barrel was clogged, the handle was bent and the trigger was stuck.

The guard looked the gun up and down, then whistled with his eyebrows raised. "I reckon Sam can fix that for you. He's good with the weapons stuff. Guns, blades, bullets, nail-shot... he does it all."

"Where can I find Sam?"

"Check Katie's general store. He works out of there most days."

"Katie?" Dante echoed. "That wouldn't be Katie Wensdale, by any chance?"

"Uh? I dunno. Just plain old Katie to me. She's not been a resident long."

"Came from Neo Leeds, did she?"

The guard pointed at him in affirmation. "Yeah, that's right." Dante smiled.

The metal gate rolled open and Dante nodded his thanks to the guard, then went in. But the store is not where he made to go. He had more pressing matters before he could go about getting his rifle fixed or catch up with his long-time friend. He asked a local resident for directions to the ale house, which was called McCaffy's Saloon, and he found the place shortly after, pushing through the batwing doors and taking in the view of the room, his rain-soaked, white hair matted to his skull. After walking through the night and morning, it was difficult to suppress a yawn, but he did so, wiping an open palm across his face before walking toward the bar.

The bartender - McCaffy, Dante assumed - gave the wastelander a reverse-nod. "What it'll be, strider? Bed, beer, women...?"

"I'm looking for the nut-job who's claiming the end of all creation. He passed this way, perhaps heading for the Pool. I was wondering if he stopped by in New Manchester..."

"Well, you would be right to be wondering. He was in here last night." McCaffy placed both hands on the table. "But that's all you get for free." Dante understood the way of things. He had no gold on him, but he had caps and hoped that a purse of about half-a-hundred would do. When he dropped the drawstring pouch on the counter, McCaffy picked it up, peeked inside briefly, before weighing it in his hand. Satisfied, he dropped the pouch into his fanny-pack. "The Sheriff kicked him out and he went off north. I think he might be heading to Key 103 Radio Station to try and get his ludicrous message on The Truth's show. He's gotta be nuts if he's heading that way. The Key 103 building is right in the middle of No Man's Land. Surrounded by raiders, mercenaries, Super Mutants and maybe worse." McCaffy shook his head. "Not a place for me, I'll tell you straight."

"He definitely went north?" Dante asked again. When McCaffy confirmed, Dante nodded. "Thanks."

With that, he turned about to leave the bar.

[Acacia Sage]

Hannah worked with her knives until she was sure that Jax was long down the road. Then she stood, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. Her back cracked. She hadn't slept very well the night before. Nightmares had plagued her. She didn't remember what they were about. She'd just woken up multiple times, a scream on her lips, and long lost images fading into the blackness of memory. As it was then, her eyes were drooping and she felt that she really needed a nap.

She didn't dare sleep, though. Not when Jax wasn't around to keep watch of the house. Although she was very attuned to the world around her, Hannah was not very great at being a light sleeper. Once she was out, she was out. Someone could sneak up and stab her and be long on their way before she even realized. It was even worse not that they didn't have an actual door. The mat did well at keeping out sunlight, but any predator, human or otherwise, would find no problem sneaking past it.

She paced around the room a few times, and then went through the back rooms. She always did this when Jax left. The likelihood of someone being in their house was slim to none, but one could never be too cautious. There was, like she suspected, no one of interest. There was a cat resting on the open window in the bathroom, but that was fine. He came around a lot and because Hannah loved animals, she couldn't turn him away. She'd started to feed him food scraps and carry him out little basins of water. Eventually he'd gained the name Tiger because of his striped fur.

She cooed softly to him and then left for the front room. She wouldn't rest in her bedroom alone. The main room was just how she left it. She plopped down on the floor and grabbed the handheld radio from the end table. She twisted the knob and it came to life.

(Sorry for the shortness. Next one will be longer.)

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"...I'm just sayin', my fellow wastelanders, I'm just sayin'... Roll with me here... Earth is just one of nine planets that circle our sun. And each one of those dozens of stars in our sky is another sun with planets of it's own. How many planets would that make? How many worlds? Can you truly discount the crazy idea that there might be guys and gals like you and the Truth, living out there in space, somewhere? Personally... the Truth says; a man can only dream?

"Just a little food for thought. And while you think about that, the Truth'll serenade you with a little... hmmm, let's see... how about some of good old Bob to brighten your day up...................................... Ah yeah, that's the Truth's beat. Back in a mo, yo."

"<Don't worry... about a thing.... cuz every-little-thing.... S'gonna be alright....>"

Katie Wensdale was taking a break from her usual chores to have some real fun. The young woman had been outside her shop, until the rain had forced her and her bike indoors. Now she was sat on a wooden crate in front the rather battered motorcycle, which was propped up by it's kick-stand. The bike itself was a Harley Davidson 8-83 sportster. With rolled up sleeves and oil-greasy hands, Katie worked diligently, using her monkey wrench to take parts off that she might tinker with. It was her favourite pasttime project and she'd had it for years. So attached to the bike was Katie, that she'd brought it all the way from Neo Leeds when she moved to New Manchester.

"Cuz every little thing..." she sang along absently as she put down the wrench and started working a screwdriver. "Is gonna be alright."

"She's looking good, Katie," a voice came from behind her. She twisted on her seat and a man in the doorway of her shop, one hand resting on the top of the doorframe. He was a friend she'd not seen or spoken to for nearly five years. The man nodded his head approvingly as he looked at the bike. "Looking real good."

"Dante!" Katie cried, jumping up, dropping her screwdriver and lunging at the smiling man. He began to laugh and hugged her fiercely. "It's so good to see you."

[Acacia Sage]

Well, Hannah thought. That was enough of that.

Hannah had never been very religious. She just hadn't been brought up that way. She couldn't think of one time religion had been a part of her life. And while that was mostly the only thing that she could pick up in the Wasteland, sometimes she didn't mind it. Today was not one of those days. She'd been hoping for some music to fall asleep to, but it looked like she wasn't going to get it. With a sigh, she reached over and switched the knob off. There was a crackle and the sound ended abruptly.

The radio was old. They'd had it since before she was even born, Jax had told her. It was rusted and beat up but it still worked if you changed the batteries enough. Darren always had plenty of those. Most people in the Wastes didn't have any use for them, unless they wanted the chemicals that made them up. But most people didn't even want that. She chewed her lip and sighed. She glanced towards the swinging front door/mat. It hadn't been that long since Jax had left. She really hated to leave the house. But she was so bored! There was practically nothing to do unless she was working on her weapons or helping Jax tune up his motorcycle.

But, then again....what could it hurt? It was the middle of the day and the Wastelands were always super hot around this time. Not many people would be venturing out. The house would be safe. That thought in mind, she pushed herself to her feet. She grabbed her sunglasses (she'd stolen them from some campers a while back) and slipped the on. She shouldered her pack by the door and slipped out.

New Manchester wasn't that far from where her house was situated. It was about a ten minute walk on a good day, but one could see the looming wall after about five. It was a gated place, cut off from people and mutants and anything that didn't have a pass to get in. Hannah didn't have a pass, per say, but she knew the guard that stood watch in the afternoons and he would let her slip through. Once you were inside, usually officials didn't bother to check for ID. They figured that you wouldn't get passed the guards. That assumption was probably right.

Morgan was swinging her large machine gun around her hands when Hannah approached. Seeing her, the older woman stopped and gave a mock salute, slapping her legs together like a soldier. "ID and registration, ma'am..." She said with a straight face. That didn't last long. She dissolved into a fit of giggles shortly after.

Hannah scowled, but approached anyway. "Don't call me ma'am," she snapped. It made her feel old. "You're older than I am, anyway."

Morgan clucked her tongue but didn't say anything else. She was slight and small and the large gun around her shoulders looked strange, too big for her. "It's pretty busy today," she said, ignoring Hannah's comment. She wasn't really that much older. Just by two years. "The guards are on alert. They might ask for a badge." She reached into her pocket and fished one out. She handed it to Hannah. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

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Inside Katie's General Supply Store, Dante was leaning heavily with both hands on the shop's counter. His jaw clenched and his blue-grey eyes glazed over, he tried to picture the story Katie had just told him about her father's death. Those damn raiders. Always those damn raiders! "Just say the word, Katie, and I swear..."

"The raiders have been dealt with," she told him solemnly, sat on a chair, her elbows on her knees, her hands linked together. "Sheriff Luca Bratzi led the men of Neo Leeds out. They got most of them. The rest were chased out of the area."

Hagrid had been good to Dante. He'd taught him a great deal about how to live in the wasteland. He'd met the man and his daughter on the road, only months after he'd escaped vault M61J1. Him, Hagrid and Katie had traveled the wasteland as a threesome for two years, Hagrid searching for a fortune that'd enable himself and his daughter to settle down permanently somewhere safe. It had been a hard and exciting adventure that had made Dante and the Wensdales family, although when they finally did manage to settle down, Dante carried on travelling. That had been eight years ago. Even then, Hagrid had been getting too old to play the hero.

"Damnit, Hagrid." Dante straightened up and looked at Katie. "He should have had a chance to enjoy his old age in peace."

Katie chuckled and Dante had been away from the woman for long enough that he could be a little surprised at this. "You should know, Dante; my dad wouldn't have enjoyed old age." To this they both smiled. It couldn't be denied. Hagrid would have made a whiny, whinging old man, who's body couldn't keep up with his adventurous nature. A silence lingered for a few moments in Hagrid's memory and then Katie spoke.

"So Mr Famous Hero, I heard about your little expedition into the National Archives. The N.P.A and the Freedom Followers have been making great strides in deciphering all the information. The Truth didn't stop talking about it all week once word got out."

"I was in the area," Dante said with a smile. It was true. It was mere coincidence that he happened by the N.P.A expedition when they were getting slaughtered by super mutants in the middle of No Man's Land. Dante Valeron seemed to have a habit of stumbling into important events around the wasteland. "I'm just glad that the Freedom Followers got a copy of the DVD."

"Yeah, I don't see the National Prospector's Association using all that information for the good of the wasteland. Not without seeing a pretty penny, anyway." Katie grinned that wide grin of hers. Dante found that he'd missed it immensely. He nodded in agreement and they fell into another comfortable silence. "Well, I think that's my lunchtime. You look like you could use a bite to eat. Why don't you stay for lunch?"

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Katie prepared some food, although it had taken longer than expected because of the small rush of customers that came after the rain had died. Her and Dante were in the front of the shop - Dante stood leaning against a bookcase, Katie sat on her broke-down Harley - holding their plates while they ate their squirrel bits and maize chips. They'd shared amiable conversation and some good laughs before Katie's curiosity got the better of her.

"So... I know you haven't come to New Manchester just to see how little ol' me is getting along..." she started.

Dante shook his head. "I didn't even know you'd moved, to be honest."

"More to the point," Katie bounced back. "What brings you to the dirty south?"

Dante chewed overly long on what was in his mouth. He knew she was going to laugh at him when he told her. Just then, another customer came through the door.......................

[Acacia Sage]

Morgan was right. The guards were on high alert.

Looking around the streets, it seemed that for every five people there was a guard standing off to the side. All were armed with large guns and some, she could tell, had more hidden beneath their uniforms. Guns made her twitchy. She had never liked them. She preferred a more natural approach to things. That was why she liked her knives and crossbow. Since she obviously couldn't carry her bow around with her, and she never went anywhere unarmed, she had tucked a combat knife into her boot, another into her waist belt, and even another up the sleeve of her shirt. People in New Manchester weren't actually supposed to have weapons, but she figured that if she didn't cause a scene, they'd have no reason to stop and search her.

She had clipped the badge to the front of her jacket, just to make it easier. If the guards could see it on her body, they probably wouldn't stop her for questions. Most people, she noticed, didn't have theirs in plain view, but a few did so she didn't feel so out of place.

She walked the streets, tapping her fingers against her jeans, whistling slightly to herself. She watched the shops and stalls and was careful about maneuvering her way out of the line of people. She didn't have anything she specifically needed, but it was always nice to browse for a while. Jax would probably be gone most of the day. The actual acquiring of items wouldn't take more than a few hours, but he liked to stay and have a drink.

Nothing really caught her eye. Well, it didn't until she came across the General Store. It was the first one she'd seen. Most all the other shops and stalls along the main road had specific purposes and only sold single types of items. It was rare to find a place that sold everything. She wondered if that was true. A quick glance into the large bay window confirmed that, yes, they did have a lot. And...there, in the far corner, was a container of peaches. Her mouth began to water.

Hannah debated the price and the amount of payment that she'd brought with her. It wouldn't be that bad. She would still have a little less than half left over. And fresh, marinated peaches were so hard to come by. How had she never seen this place before? Mind made up, she went in.

A little bell dinged above her head. The shop was empty except for a man and younger woman. They both turned to look at her as she entered. "Hi," she said, feeling suddenly on the spotlight. "I'm just gonna take some of those peaches..."

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"No problem, at all, friend," Katie replied, getting up and going over to the counter. Dante put his attention back on his food, accepting that there was slim chance of Katie forgetting her question, but deciding it was a chance worth taking nevertheless. Katie put her plate down on the counter as she walked around it, smiling at the customer as she approached with the tinned peaches. "I don't believe we've met before. The name's Katie. Katie Wensdale. Part-time shopkeeper, part-time tech-enthusiast. And you are?" However the woman introduced herself, Katie would accept it with a smile and nod. "Well, you're always welcome at Katie's General Store, and you never know what might be lurking in the corners of this shop, so be sure to take your time looking aroumd. Sometimes I even forget what I'm selling." Katie laughed.

Dante snorted softly to himself. Katie's bright, friendly disposition was no facade. It was how she'd always been, and she'd grown up through her childhood as a roamer of the wasteland, which had kind-of desensitized her to the harsh realities of the wasteland. That girl could giggle in Deathclaw's face, Dante thought incredulously.

"Well, Dante, are you going to answer my question? Just 23 caps, if it pleases you," Katie added for the customer's benefit. "We take gold too."

Dante spoke up. "I came looking for the mad man who's spreading rumours about the government." Katie laughed saying something about how she should've known. Dante went on. "I hear he's going to Key 103 Radio station to try and get his message on the radio."

"You are such an action-junkie, Dante, do you ever stop?" Katie said, accepting the payment. "Thanking you," she said with a grin to her customer. The wasteland hero realised that there more to that grin than a simple friendly exchange with a stranger. Dark hair, good skin, nice body, Dante thought with amusement as he covertly assessed the customer. Yeah, she's definitely Katie's type. Then Katie turned back to Dante; "You can't seriously believe that the government are secretly kidnapping people for military experiments. The guy is crazy."

Dante shrugged with a tilt of his head. "I've seen more far-fetched notions come to life in the wasteland. Whatever the truth is, I intend to find out and put a stop to it, if necessary. If he's willing to step into No Man's Land, then he must believe what he's saying."

"Yeah," Katie bounced back. "Because he's crazy."

"If what he's says is true then I'm not surprised he's gone mad," Dante said. "I'm going to need this rifle fixing up to it's best. It's already beyond my skill and means to repair."

"Sam's on a supply run at the moment." Katie told him about the man who was the weapons customisation and repair specialist working out of her shop. "He could have that rifle shooting sweet for you, no problem, but he won't be back from Grasscoft Aston until tonight."

"I don't have that much time," Dante said, thinking about his next move. He was right behind this John Farson fellow, and he couldn't afford to let the trail go cold.

"Well, Grasscroft is actually just a little north of here, practically right on the Valley. I have a scientist-friend who lives there and he's a whiz with with anything mechanical. If you tell him I sent you, he'll probably give you a good deal."

Dante nodded. "Thanks, I'll do that." Tiredness was hiding in the shadows of his mind, doing push ups and getting stronger, ready to come and ambush him when he was off-guard, but for now Dante was keeping it at bay. If he could get to Grasscroft Aston and then get some sleep while his weapon was under maintenance, then he would be saving time wasted.

[Acacia Sage]

Hannah liked this girl.

She had decided that within moments of meeting her. It was always easy to tell what type of person someone was by the way they carried themselves. That included how they walked, talked, interacted with the objects around them. It wasn't always easy to spot, but it was something that she understood very well. There weren't many people that ventured out towards her end of the Wasteland. It was probably better that way. So the ones who did come out, she watched very closely. Most of them were travelers, unreliable, running from something that they thought wouldn't follow them that far from civilization. Sometimes they were right. Sometimes they weren't.

Anyway, Katie carried herself with confidence. Her shoulders were squared, held held high, hair pushed from her face and not obscuring her eyes. That was something that Hannah herself had trouble doing. She tended to put herself behind her hair when she was not feeling super confident. Her eyes were bright and her smile genuine as she slid the peaches across the counter and told her for the amount.

She spoke with someone behind her, a man named Dante, and Hannah fished out the correct amount of caps. She would have given gold, but that was mostly reserved for people outside of New Manchester. People in the Wasteland tended to take gold and only gold. That was why she always carried both with her. She placed the correct number on the counter and took the peaches. She twisted the clear tin around in her hands a few times, just admiring them for what they were, before putting it into her satchel.

She smiled at the woman. "Thank you," she said. And then, she turned to the other man. He looked to be about her age with wild hair and even wilder eyes. He was cute, she would give him that, and he acted in such a way that reminded her of her brother. "You need your rifle fixed?" She asked before she could stop herself. She pulled off her satchel and set it on the counter before making her way over to him. Her boots clacked against the floor.

She plopped down heavily on the seat across from him. She folded her arms on the table and smiled. "I can fix it. For a price, of course."