Ares carefully checked at the second floor windows of the apartment building he had holed up at. After determining it appeared safe enough he slowly made his way downstairs and towards the hole in the wall near the back alleyway, holding his varmint rifle at the ready. I need to get a move on, been here a little over a week, and seen a few too many raider groups around. Time to head towards somewhere safer. Maybe I should go check out the area around Central Park. He takes cover along the wall, while checking his Pipboy 3000. Hmm it appears I am about 10 klicks from there, so I better get a move on. He slowly walks out of the building and starts making his way south towards Central Park, keeping his varmint rifle, Simo, at the ready.

Central Park didn't seem like a park anymore. Twelve foot walls of scrap metal laced with razor wire surrounded it. Given it's position the NCR used this as a refugee camp and kept the exact road Ares was on (for about eight blocks) safe as it was meant to be the way to it without people getting shot. The other three streets were only covered for three blocks to keep the refugees out of untrained sights. However the occasional steady addict racked up on jet could take a couple very good shots. There were always rumors that Desert rangers would come but aside from the occasional retired one it didn't happen, they were still busy sitting around watching a dam when the Legion wasn't there anymore.

However those additional two blocks could make a difference, for the man had spoken to himself a bit too soon. [A lone] fiend had come from a side street, laughing about whatever it was going through his head. "And then I stabbed my thumb into his eye but he didn't laugh along sk guess what I did?" He stopped, looking around for someone apparently before pointing his kitchen knife at the wall of a building. "I said guess! GUESS YOU FUCK!" He screams, kicking the wall and falling over. This appeared to set him back somehow because asbhe hit the ground he started laughing again.

After making it most of the way to central park, Ares notices a fiend, who appeared to be flying high, cut out of a side street. Ares promptly dropped prone behind some debris bringing Simo to his shoulder. Hmm, he appears to be alone, now I just need to determine whether to shoot him, or sneak around the idiot. Ares thinks to himself as he carefully looks around and noticed an old apartment complex to his left, with a busted window on the first floor, large enough for him to climb through if things go south here. Well, that is my fallback plan, let's drop this guy and wait to see if there are any reinforcements. After deciding what to do Ares calmly takes aim at the back of the fiends neck right above where it meets the shoulders. Aiming dead center of it, he hopes to send the bullet straight through the throat and the spinal cord.

After slowly pulling the trigger all that would be heard around there is a light clanking of metal on metal as he calmly works the action, a light thump of the bullet hitting his target and the thud of the target hitting the ground. A couple of thuds later the knife will have stop moving after falling from the unlucky, or lucky for hopefully perishing instantly, fiend's hand. Had he not been flying so high, I might would have attempted to let him live, but experiences in the past have taught me to be better off safe than sorry when dealing with addicts. Ares, thinks to himself as he calmly moves his rifle and body enough to stay behind the debris, but able to see and aim down the side street. He decided to spend four or five minutes surveying the area from his vantage point, making sure to check behind him every so often, then check and loot anything of value off of the poor sod whose life he had to end, and finally proceed the last 10 blocks to Central Park, which appears to be an NCR refugee camp.

Miles picked through an abandoned shipyard. The soft rocking of the rusty boats in the water were oddly calming to him. He stood on the bow of the ship he was currently searching through and looked out on the wastelands. He saw no movement. So he went back to the cabin to see if he could find anything of value. The Outcasts liked for him to bring them rare things more than weapons. Miles thought that odd. He felt nothing was more important than a good weapon and a lot of caps in your pocket. After thoroughly searching the cabin and only finding a little bit of scrap metal, he walked off the boat and onto the dock to continue searching the remaining boats.

Josh awoke to the usual sounds of the subway which had kept him company for the now year he had been hiding out down here, the darkness only penetrated by his pip-boy light. He stood, awoken from his slumber by a disturbance deeper into utility hallway he currently resided in. It couldn't have gotten past the traps so it must have been something that knew the hidden in's and out's as he did, the 'rad-rats' he liked to call them, they were essentially really big rats, a few sizes bigger than a radroach. Those were his main enemy,besides the could that would wander in and trigger his traps, the rat's were fast and pretty intelligent for radioactive rodents.

Tunnel rat crouched down, sneaking out of the closet he had slept in just my luck he thought. One raider stood before him, smoking a cigarette, Tunnel rat snuck up behind him ever so quietly, and thruster his knife into his back. His gurgles rang throughout the corridor Tunnel rat dropped the body, hoping he was alone but he most likely was not. He moved into a dark corner of the corridor and turned off his pip-boy light.

The problem with such subways was the loudness of such noises, such a hollow emptiness conveyed noises all to much. As this raider fell his caps clinked around and the badly beaten .32 revolver he had [Fell] to the concrete, sending what seemed to be a bang in such a place. "Who's there?" A snarled voice asks, starting to walk out from a maintenance door. "Vince if you drop that damn thing it'll go off you idiot."

Nyther said
Miles picked through an abandoned shipyard. The soft rocking of the rusty boats in the water were oddly calming to him. He stood on the bow of the ship he was currently searching through and looked out on the wastelands. He saw no movement. So he went back to the cabin to see if he could find anything of value. The Outcasts liked for him to bring them rare things more than weapons. Miles thought that odd. He felt nothing was more important than a good weapon and a lot of caps in your pocket. After thoroughly searching the cabin and only finding a little bit of scrap metal, he walked off the boat and onto the dock to continue searching the remaining boats.

The reactor core of the boat was [Fried.] However, a sensor module was still very well intact. Though condition didn't effect their value to the Outcasts it was basically nothing in the end, worth only slightly more than the scrap metals. If he so chose too, he could check for other parts within it's depths but getting through the machinery to the core would be a pain. There was a 10mm handgun in the emergency box and some rations that had turned too dust. The handgun was in [No] condition to fire however and was little more than a few parts. The box of [23] rounds though was well in order to be fired.

jeffhudson said
After making it most of the way to central park, Ares notices a fiend, who appeared to be flying high, cut out of a side street. Ares promptly dropped prone behind some debris bringing to his shoulder. Ares thinks to himself as he carefully looks around and noticed an old apartment complex to his left, with a busted window on the first floor, large enough for him to climb through if things go south here. After deciding what to do Ares calmly takes aim at the back of the fiends neck right above where it meets the shoulders. Aiming dead center of it, he hopes to send the bullet straight through the throat and the spinal cord.After slowly pulling the trigger all that would be heard around there is a light clanking of metal on metal as he calmly works the action, a light thump of the bullet hitting his target and the thud of the target hitting the ground. A couple of thuds later the knife will have stop moving after falling from the unlucky, or lucky for hopefully perishing instantly, fiend's hand. Ares, thinks to himself as he calmly moves his rifle and body enough to stay behind the debris, but able to see and aim down the side street. He decided to spend four or five minutes surveying the area from his vantage point, making sure to check behind him every so often, then check and loot anything of value off of the poor sod whose life he had to end, and finally proceed the last 10 blocks to Central Park, which appears to be an NCR refugee camp.

The fiend had [Two] rebounds on him but no caps to his name- he probably spent those caps on the rebounds. He had a few random .357 cases on him for some reason but nothing else of value was on him. The are around the Ex-Ranger was "Calm" the only people around were a few refugees several blocks ahead, coming out of a side road and towards the encampment in a rush but the streets were clean. A small patrol of eight soldiers began to walk down the road, checking them for fiends or raiders.

Miles greedily picked up the bullets and pocketed them. "This treasure is for me." Miles hummed to himself. He looked deeper into the ship and considered going deeper to search for more treasures, but looking at the rusty pieces of metal blocking his path made him change his mind. He walked back out of the ship and back on the dock. A quick search of the few other rusty boats that were there proved fruitless.

Mildly discouraged, Miles trudged back onto dry land. He would start making his way back to the Outcast's camp as it was getting late in the day and Miles didn't want to have to spend the night out here if he could help it. There were several tall buildings that were in several states of decay. A small one story building caught his eye. The doors were still on their hinges and were closed. That meant one of two things. Either this building hadn't been looted yet, or was occupied. Regardless, there should be some good loot inside. Miles readied this .44 as he approached the door.

Tunnel Rat,s heart raced as the man came out, seeing the dead body of his friend, he screamed and looked around "who did this?!" He yelled, turning in all directions. Tunnel rat slowly creeped up behind the man, his knife still the other raiders neck, he forgot to pull it out when the body dropped, he drew his pistol, putting it up against the raiders neck "hand up" he said in a low, rough voice, the raider put his hands up, turning to see tunnel rat "tunnel ra-" the man didn't have time to finish, Tunnel Rat put the gun up to the man's head and pulled the trigger. The sound partially muffled. Tunnel rat began to loot the corpse for anything useful.

After seeing that the area was calm enough to come out, Ares slowly stood up and slung his rifle over his back, counting on the incoming patrol to be watchful enough he didn't get shot while checking the dead fiend. After searching the dead fiend he calmly pockets the two rebounds, the shell casings, and collecting his knife to promptly sell at the next merchant he finds. He slowly starts making his way towards the incoming patrol to ask a few questions about the area, and see if there was a merchant and bar inside the park.

Upon reaching the patrol he identifies himself, "Retired Sergeant Ares Kalonimos, formerly with 1st recon. I was hoping you guys could point me in the direction of a place to get a nice cold drink and a merchant for me to stock up on some more ammunition. I'm hoping you have one or even both of them inside the camp?"