((Collaboration Post between The unknowable and Letter Bee))

Flashback - Several Days Before the RP's 'Present Day'

Paradise 'Par' Rapids appreciated having a Solar-Electric Truck, one that ran on a combination of Solar Panels and Energy Cells, enabling it to move at the same speeds as a normal truck even when it was dark. And, of course, it can hold a lot of guns and other items; that was a plus.

Either way, he was heading for Liberty Island over a bridge; he had people to trade with and a certain someone to meet.

The people at the checkpoint looked at the 19-year old suspiciously, but allowed him in after he declared his cargo. After that, Par went to the market and, after some tough bargaining, sold several guns and pure water in exchange for some boxes of dried mussels. After that, he then, following rumors and directions, set out on foot - albeit after setting the alarms and jury-rigged guns on his car - for the shop of Greg Holden, electrician and scientist.

Greg was at his workbench, tinkering with a broken laser rifle someone had sold him for only a few caps. Even after more than a year, he was still surprised that people would let such valuable tech go for so little. Several of the components were still good, after all, and it would serve as a perfect platform for his plasma gun.

He pulled the gun off of his back and laid it on the table. It was little more than a plasma emmiter off of a Mr. Gutsy with a rechargable power cell, fission battery, and trigger circuit rigged to it so that it could be fired as a rifle.

After he replaced the Laser gun's laser emmiter with his plasma emmiter he started to move over the rechargable cells, but saw that a customer had just entered his shop. He walked over to the counter. "Can I help you?" he asked the man standing there.

"Hello there, you must be Greg Holden, the tech-whiz. And, yes, I do need your help. My name is Paradise 'Par' Rapids...and I need to talk to you in private," the man's face drew closer.

"You see, I have a map, a map to a source of knowledge beyond your wildest dreams, and I have a plan, too."

"Do you always put your nickname in the middle of your name like that?" he asked before realizing that it was probably concidered rude to ask such a thing. Oh well, he couldn't take it back now. "So, a source of knowledge beyond my wildest dreams, huh? It sounds like you're trying to sell me Radscorpion oil, to be frank."

"You might say that..." Paradise Rapids said, "but I have proof." He then went through his backpack, before finding what he wanted.

"Ah! Here it is," the man smiled, pulling out a book, a genuine, bona-fide book. "An Introduction to Tesla Technology, by Dr. Mikhail Zhukov; a genuine, first edition copy salvaged from, well, the place I wanted to talk about."

"Interesting" Greg said, reaching for the book. "Mind if I look at it?" A good quality copy of the book might help him out a bit. Might being the key word. If V-17 had known about the book it probably would havebeen downloaded into the Neural implant of everyone in the vault. If he didn't have it, however, there might be some useful info in there that he had yet to learn.

"Here," Par handed over the book, "consider it a free sample, to whet your appetite."

"So, once you realize that the book is real," which it was, "can we finally talk privately?"

Greg flipped through the book. Most of the information within was already things that he knew, but there was an entire chapter on high voltage electronics that contained interesting ideas he hadn't come across. If the rest of the guy's books were as useful as this one it would definately be worth his time to deal with the man.

"Sure," he said, picking up his plasma rifle. Sure, he'd have to use MF cells to fire it, but it would work in its current condition. "Just let me lock the door. The walls are well insulated, I made sure of that, so no one should be able to hear us as long as we aren't too loud."

He walked over and locked the door, then flipped a switch on a radio-like piece of equipment near it. "Noise cancelation tech. It should muffle anything we say. So, is this private enough?"

"It'll do," Par's smile was firm. "Anyway..." he then pulled out a map - a map of Pre-War New York, it seemed. Said map showed several public buildings, and one, named the New York Public Library, Main Branch, was marked by an X.

"As you can see, I've discovered the location of the New York Public Library, and found it not just reasonably intact, but also with a lot of books. However, those books are about to rot or whatever happens to books that get too old, and so I need some way of getting out all those works, or at least keeping them safe. Another consideration is the fact that as you can see, the NYPL is close to Central Park, and Central Park is where those slavers in Old Man's Corner live."

"Those people at OMC are going to interfere with any salvage operations...unless they are either made to believe that we're friendly, or unless they are crushed. I have a plan for both." Par then turned his gaze on Greg.

"I plan to go to Old Man's Corner, buy some of their slaves, then free them, before keeping at least some of them on as paid workers. I also plan to turn said freed slaves - slash - paid workers into an army that will take down Old Man's Corner and destroy any possible competition from there. However, I cannot do this alone; I need someone to man the operations at the library while I'm getting supplies and stuff, as well as train the workers, or prevent the slaves from running away before I free them anyway."

"So what do you think? We kill two birds with one stone; Liberty Island is safe from the Slavers' Guild and we get Knowledge. Sounds like a good deal if you ask me."

Greg thought about the man's plan. "Ok, first of all, you are going to need some serious caps in order to afford enough slaves to threaten them. Then you'll have to arm and armor them, not to mention feed and water them until the job's done. I don't have enough caps to do that."

"Also, the slavers aren't going to sell you a lot of slaves unless you make it look like you can handle them. Escaped slaves make them look weak, even if they escaped from their clients. It makes their other clients nervous. There are several places in the city where you can find active robots still. If we were to find a few and reprogram them to work for us, it would help keep the slaves from escaping prematurely, which would just get the slaver's to blow their collars, and it would make us look a lot stronger than we really are."

"As for the caps, I'm thinking that we need to get someone else in on this. Either that or sell a few of the robots we take to the locals as guards."

"The robots are a nice addition to our plan, yes. But as for caps; don't underestimate my abilities as a merchant. I have a Solar-Electric Truck parked outside the market - I can show it to you if you don't believe me - and it's filled with enough merchandise and caps to cover the initial investment. I have, in three crates, enough bottlecaps to cause inflation - aka make the actual value of goods rise up because there's too much money - in Old Man's Corner and Liberty Island, and I have connections that can get me more. Surely you've heard of the Book Runners by now, right?"

"Wait, you're one of the Book Runners?" Greg was surprised that one of them had come to him for help. "Why didn't you say so? That explains how you had a book that was in such good condition. Three crates of caps, plus trade goods, though, and no security guard? That's a pretty risky game you're playing."

He thought about it for a few seconds. "In that case, why not get a few mercs too? They'll definately help with getting the robots, at the very least, and they'll keep the salvage operation safe incase the slavers take exception to you freeing the slaves or pulling salvage in their territory."

"I didn't say so before because, well, I don't want people to think that I'm a young...upstart relying on my family's resources. I want most of what I achieve to come from what I do, not just what I've been given."

"Anyway, yeah, Mercs would have to be people who are not obviously from Liberty Island or serving its interests, but that's going to be my department." He then chuckled.

"So, that means you're in, then? If so, let's open the door so I can show you my truck."

"If it was just a "storm Old Man's corner" thing, I'd say hire a dozen Raiders and let them keep everything but the slaves, but with this plan that won't work. Yeah, I'm in. Let's see what you've got going for us, so that we can put the finishing touches on the plan."

He walked over and turned off the noise cancelation device, then unlocked the door. "So, Mr. Par." he said, covering his tracks incase anyone was listening, "Let's see the merchandise so I can verify what it's worth."

The ruins of New York are a dangerous place, but if you know where to hide and where to scavenge, it became a little less so. I wasn't what people call lucky, but you didn't need luck to survive, if you relied on that, well, chances are you'd be dead within the week. This went through my head as I sat down in the ruins of an old apartment, too close to Central Park for my comfort. It was late in the evening, and I knew I wouldn't be making a fire tonight, I'd learnt never to underestimate Slave Traders and Raiders. Scavenging in the building, I found a little food and water, along with some Nuka-Cola. I opened my pack, looking at the little I'd found. about twenty caps worth, not even worth the trip, I'd have to stay another day unless I got extremely lucky, which was unlikely.

A bullet whizzed through the air stopping only as it hit the wall behind as the bottle is glided perfectly through exploded into shards around off the metal beam it had been sitting on. Another whiz and the bottle that sat next to it exploded. The shot echoed down the street.

"God damn piece of shit." John mumbled to himself as he adjusted the silencer on the barrel of his tan sniper. "Gonna blow my damn head off one of these days." He said to himself, as he tapped it back into place. He looked up from his scope at the remaining bottle across the street on the other buildings roof and set his rifle off to the side pulling out his pistol. He aimed down the sight and shot the bottle dead center as it exploded like the rest. He flipped his pistol back sheathed it at his side. He cracked his neck and shoulders and stood up, picking his rifle up and throwing it on his back.

As he swiftly moved down the stairs he proceeded out into the street with caution. Pulling his hunting knife out and holding it in a combat ready position as he made his way around the corner entering the street. He looked around quickly and darted to the next building. Could never be more careful now a days, people know the waste land like the back of their hand, John being one of them. Letting yourself be unaware or distracted could be your death. Super-mutants are relentlessness, John knew this first hand.

He made his way to the bank, a rusty metal bridge just in front of him let off to a well guarded high wooden wall. He made his way across the bridge. "State name and business" A guard hollered over the wall as a red dot appeared on Johns chest. John took out a cigar and old matches, barely getting enough flame to light it. A little puff of smoke came from his mouth as he spoke "Shut up and let me in Tom"
The dot disappeared and John gave a slight smirk and chuckle. He grabbed the cigar out of his mouth with three fingers and tilted his hat at the guard manning the switch that opens the door as it closed behind John.

The bar door swung open as he entered, laying his rifle up against the metal counter and he took the smoking cigar out from between his lips. "Scotch" he said plainly as the Eye-bot moved over to pour him a glass. He grabbed the class as soon as it was set down and took a sip. He rested the glass down and wiped his face. "Ah, John. Where might you have been this morning?" a voice announced from behind him. "Shooting practice" He replied not turning around to look at the source of the voice.
"Shooting practice? John your one of the best shots here" The voice said joyfully confused.
"Aye, one that you'll never beat Aydon" he turned as his friend as next to him ordering another drink and gave him a smile. "And you, what trouble do you find yourself in today." he asked. Aydon gave a slight chuckle "None today thankfully. But I did spot some raiders while out scavenging." Aydon's face turned serious and John jumped at the word. "Raiders?"
"Aye, I believe they were scopin' the place out, maybe lookin' for a weak spot to launch a raid."
John sat back "Did you notify the guardsmen?"
"of course, but those thick skulled fucks wouldnt know anything was happening before they got shot" He said quickly
"Just watch yourself Aydon, I don't think Liberty City would fall just to a few petty thieves" John said putting his cigar back in his mouth.

((Collaboration Post between The unknowable and Letter Bee))

Flashback - Continued

"Phew! That was a long ride. Anyway, do you guys need me, or can I take a break?" Par asked Greg, who was in the seat beside him, and the dozen mercs who were sharing space with walls and a ceiling of guns, as well as several crates of caps, dried mussels, purified water, and explosives.

The group were now at the Robo-Co Factory near Niagra Falls, where they planned to bag them some robots - and another vehicle, if possible. Either way, Par, who was used to taking several rests during one trip - made possible by the sentry guns and high explosives in the truck's security system - was now mentally exhausted, hence the question.

"No, this is good." said Greg. "How's the truck's power cells? Do I need to rig a fission battery or two up to recharge them?" It was already after noon and he was unsure how long this man's homemade vehicle would last on only a few more hour's sunlight. "It won't be a problem. It'll take the Mercs an hour or so before they haul enough robots out here for me to get started fixing the holes they put in them and reprogramming them. Besides, I've got to fix another truck up too if I can find one."

He gave the Mercs instructions on how he wanted the robots taken down and sent them inside.

"The truck's power cells can last for 24 Hours without sunlight," Par said, "this here is a remnant of the Old World, one of the largest things our old mine contained. Even so, I'd appreciate you at least checking the systems."

"No problem" said Greg, then walked over to the truck and lifted the hood. Where a normal truck would have a nuclear engine, this one had rechargable power cells and various circuits. He made sure everything was connected properly and checked the fuses. Everything appeared to be in working condition, which was pretty rare when dealing with such old equipment. "Everything looks fine." he said. "I'll have to keep the nuclear engine in the other truck, though. We don't have enough time to do this to it."

He checked the area for another truck and, when he found an old army truck, he started checking it out as well. The army truck wasn't in near as good of a shape as Par's truck, but it could be made to work.

An hour and a half later Greg flipped the main power switch on the truck and the old gages lit up. He had had to clean a lot of terminals, repalce several fuses, and even solder a few connections together where there was supposed to be a bolt-on connection, but at least it was working. As a finishing touch he threw a peice of plywood where the driver would sit, to cover up the holes that had dry-rotted into the seat. The gages indicated that they had a fuel reserve of 14% left, more than enough for them to drive the truck, so Greg drove it over next to the pile of robots that the Mercs had made.

He had to admit, they had done a reasonable job not completely ruining the robots, but he wished they had been better shots. Several of the Protectrons had cracked brain cases, which made it impossible to get them functional again. He pulled the best looking one off of the pile and cross-wired it so that the brain would come back online, but the body wouldn't. "Good." he said after he had a look at its programming via one of the Rob-co computers they had moved outside. "it shouldn't take too much work to make it loyal to us."

He spent the next fifteen minutes typing on the computer, then another five replacing damaged circuits. When he was finished he brought it online. "Say hello to PR-1723, Prince." he said.

"Hello PR-1723, Prince." the Protectron said.

"Very good!" said Par, who had awoken from a nap. "Now, let's go back to New York, and Old Man's Corner."

((Collab Post between Madly33, TheUnknowable, and Letter Bee))

Present Day

Old Mans corner, a mix feeling given off by the place of suffering and greed. The town is boarded off but lardge wooden walls with barbed wire and eletric fences crushing any dreams of escape. The town is more of a straight road that goes straight through the town, as you enter to the left there is dark trees and vegitation from the park and on the right a mix of Pre-War buildings now boarded up and used for housing or storage, wooden pens line the street where the slaves are kept when they do not work. The smell of feces clogs the nose a mile before you even enter the town. The town is musty and rusted over, hot from constant coal work and fire pits just outside the town.

Par turned up his nose at the smell, but he knew it was a sacrifice to make in order to achieve his mercantile goals. Either way, as the truck drove to the borders of the town, the merchant was stopped by several guards, who then parted the gates after ascertaining Par's identity (it also didn't hurt that they were given a tip). After parking his trucks, the merchant, hopefully accompanied by Greg, three Robots, and three Mercs, went up to the main structure, where they asked to see the prime slave merchant of the town.

Greg parked his truck and nodded to the Merc captain who was riding shotgun. "You and two other guys come with us." He then got out and told Prince to follow him, along with the two Mr. Handys they'd salvaged. They had to set up several crates for Prince to exit the truck, but he was the most reliable robot they had.

Greg walked over to Par. "So, the Mercs can follow you in, I'll keep the robots. For some reason I trust the robots more. Maybe it's because I've seen their programming and know they won't turn on me over a few caps." He didn't mind trusting Mercs over basic operations, like collecting robots or clearing Raiders or creatures, but when dealing with Slavers something made him nervous about them.

"Are you looking to buy?" The man glared at Par. "I don't believe you have business with him otherwise." He hissed looking him up and down and watching the Mercs.

"Yes, yes we are," Par was frank. "We need enough for a salvage operation we're conducting, and we're prepared to give good caps for them. And, of course, we also have a few gifts for your leader." He patted his backpack.

The man looked over his shoulder quickly and back at Par. "Gifts? If I may ask can I see them, there is no being too cautious now a days, don't you agree?" He said with a smile, hoping Par would be friendly in return.

"Of course, of course!" Par was genial as he brought out two Pistols from his backpack; one was a shimmering black Colt that looked clearly polished, while another was a gun of the same type, only embossed with gold and mother-of-pearl. One of Par's first salvages.

"You can have the Black Colt, if you like," he said. "Now, can you escort us inside?" his smile was wide.

The man quickly grabbed the gun and sheathed it at his side "Yes, yes of course." He said as he walked around the corner and motioned him to follow.

As they walked up steps to a run down boarded building the man stopped at the entrance and knocked at the wooden door. "Please, weapons." He said holding out his hand to Par and the Mercs "and I ask that you unload any ammo stored in the gun you have for the Master." He said quickly. As he finished the door slid open and a brute of a man moved outside "When you're ready" He mumbled in a deep, dark, and hollowed voice.

Par nodded, handing over his submachine gun, his own pistol, and his dagger. The mercs and presumably Greg did the same. He then unloaded all ammo inside the gift gun, before entering the sanctum of the lead merchant.

The brute eyed them as they walked past him. They entered a rather large room, the ceiling a few stories high at least. There was a glass chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling and the room was covered in art and writing. "Here to buy?" A man greeted from the back of the room, in what seemed to be a throne. "The Guildmaster" as they called him, he was treated like a king. He took a puff of his cigar and tossed it to the side. "Well?" he said quickly after.

The 19-year old gave a bow, with his escort doing so too. Then, Par spoke to 'The Guildmaster', holding out his gift.

"Of course we came to buy. But first, here is a gift, in order to soften negotiations. A pistol embossed with gold and mother of pearl, for someone of your eminence."

The Guildmaster held the gun, feeling its weight and fingering the trigger. "What is this?" He hissed. "Is this supposed to get you a discount?" He asked angerly. "I am not to be haggled filth" He spat.

"To be honest, I didn't know much about your habits, so you might excuse me for making a mistake. Nevertheless, my gift is a show of how much wealth I have access to, and how much I can pay." Par then looked The Guildmaster straight in the eye.

"I plan to run a salvage operation in the New York Public Library's Main Branch, very close to this place. As you are the closest source of cheap labor, I thought I'd make an arrangement with you. Basically, I want slaves. Strong men and women, children that can get into tight spaces, and if you have a slave that just so happened to be able to read, write, and do sums before they ended up here, I'll pay extra."

"And by extra, I am willing to pay 200 Caps for each man, 150 caps for each woman, if you're selling women, and 50 caps for a kid. Oh, and 1000 caps for a learned slave. If caps are lacking, I also have purified water."

The man sat back in his chair as his lips curled into a smirk, he held up his hand and beckoned as a lady walked up and placed a lit cigar in his hand. He puffed on it once then looked up "Let's make a deal" He said through his smirk.

Forty

Forty pulled himself upright as the ringing in his ears finally subsided. Poor TwentyTwo, and Thirty hadn't even known what exactly blew up, and Twelve was left staring at the two bleeding stumps of her legs as the Microfusion explosion of the centuries old car had abruptly disturbed their trail.

Unfortunately Forty survived and, Mr. Big explicitly said "Don't think of coming back if that girl ain't behind you.

Point is, he had to find this mystery girl and bring her back. Actually, he wasn't quite sure who she exactly was, he was just told he was looking for some runaway that the Mr Big was implored by one of his old friends to bring back.

Unfortunately, the trail kinda died when Twelve finally bled out. Still, he had his duty, and the old saying "Bring Back the Lost Lambs!" urged him forward. Poor girl must be terrified being away from her master, and Forty felt honor bound to lead her back home.

However what Forty did know is that she doesn't stay in one place for too long, probably too afraid to stay put without her Master protecting her, poor thing. That meant she was probably living a nomadic life of a scavenger; so all Forty had to do was find her and welcome her back to the Grand Collective with open arms, everyone knew the Grand Collective was the place for all Masters to pick up their lost Lambs, so why would Forty think she wouldn't want to go back.

For now he quietly hummed a tune as he trekked through the ruins of Nuuyok.

@XDark AnorexiaX

Eight men, chosen for their strength and health. Eight women, chosen for similar criteria. Thirteen Children between the ages of sixteen to six, and one old man who demonstrated his skills at writing, reading, and doing sums. 4450 Bottlecaps, almost one whole crate. Par and presumably Greg led the slaves - not that they would be slaves any longer if Par had his way - to the Army Truck that had been comandeered from Robo-Co.

After that, Par then went to his own Solar - Electric Truck, before beginning his drive to the New York Public Library's main branch...

Timeskip

"We're here," Par said, gesturing to his mercs as they got to the dilapidated building. "Bring out the slaves."

With a nod, the mercenaries did as the man wished, bringing out the slaves - who had been somewhat cramped in the army truck - delicately, which was what Par wanted it to be. The young man would notice that while all were shackled, only a few had bona-fide slave collars; apparently, Old Man's Corner's supply had ran out. Either way, Par took out a remote, pressed it...and the slave collars fell off. He then personally took a key and unshackled the rest of the slaves, starting with the children.

"All right," he spoke, "you're free to go; all of you. If you want, I'll take you in my other truck to Liberty Island myself, where you can live as free people."

The slaves were shocked, uncertain if this was real. Once they saw that Par was serious, one of them, a black man from The Pitt, spoke:

"What's the catch?"

"Well, just hear me out," he spoke. "You see, I'm conducting a salvage operation in this place in order to look for old books and tech, as well as preserve them. I'm willing to pay in food and purified water," he can see the slaves' eyes light up, "if you will help me. The job's going to be fairly easy, although you'll have to follow the old man," he gestured to the learned man, "and his lead here."

"Also, I will be taking the kids under 12 to Liberty Island; they're not old enough for such dangerous work."

"So," the man said, "which of you will accept my offer? Again, those who don't can come with the kids to Liberty Island."

In the end, only one adult man and one woman chose not to take the job, opting to accompany the kids under 12 to Liberty Island. That left 12 adults and 5 children over 12, which was cool.

Either way, Par would drive back to Liberty Island, leaving Greg, the Mercs, and the Robots to start the set-up for the salvage operations...

((@TheUnknowable, your turn))

John leaped out of bed and through on his clothes, grabbing his rifle and pistol, and pulling his hat over his head. He walked down the stairs that led to his quarters. "Mornin John" A merc shouted from the opposite end on the hall, John tilted his hat at the man and kept walking. He walked all the way down to the bottom of liberty City where he sat outside. He pulled one of the metal chairs up and sat himself down slowly onto it pulling a cigar out of his pocket and resting his rifle against the table to the right of him. He sighed and sat back. Another damn boring day.. he thought to himself.

He rubbed his forehead and clenched his jaw holding back a yawn. "John!" a familiar voice shouted from the entrance to liberty city. "aye?" he mumbled and waved has hand. The voice was Aydon's, coming to bring news of the raiders or his latest invention or something John only pretended to care about. "The raiders scare like rats!" he said excitingly. "Only a few shots and they scattered" He said through his big boyish smile. "You are the definition of a dumbass" John said in a slight chuckle. "Raiders don't scare from a fight, they probably didn't realize anyone armed actually lived here, you just let them know to come back with some more men and firepower" He looked up at Aydon's now shocked and confused face that had replaced his smile. "Don't worry about it boy, we got plenty of guards here. some raiders wont be a problem" John said and patted his back trying to relieve the stress he could see in his eyes. he jumped as he remembered something "I need you to run this message to Major Bentsworth.." John broke into a whisper as he pulled a letter out of his pocket. "Please just don't ask questions. It is for his eyes only" he said through a glare.

As Aydon ran off to the entrance of Liberty City John turned and puffed on his cigar more, letting off small smoke clouds as he did. He heard shouting and the opening of the gates as a truck pulled in. A sight to see a working car in times like these. He had only really known a few. He sat up quickly as it came to a park only some 20 feet away from where he was sitting.

((Collab between Madly33 and Letter Bee))

As Par drove through the bridge to Liberty Island, he was asked to declare his cargo again, causing him to report a reduced amount of bottlecaps, purified water, and food, before saying:

"I also have several passengers with me, Freed Slaves from...you know. I was hoping you know where you can give them a home?" This caused one of the guards to look darkly at him, before saying:

"Go to the mayor for that. He's bleeding-heart enough to want more mouths to feed. Now, the tip?"

Par handed the guard a couple of caps, then drove to a parking lot, where he got the freed slaves; two adults and eight children, out of the truck.

"Now," the 19-year old man said kindly, "let's go to the mayor."

He then began walking, motioning for them to follow. As they were in unfamilar surroundings, none of the freed slaves ran away.

"Aye um, that seems to be a lot of kids for a man as young as you" John chucked as he yelled at the new arrivals. He stood up and walked toward the unfamiliar man. He looked at the kids as they walked along and the two adults, their tattered clothing and out right look of dirt and stench was a clear sign of slavery. He looked over to the man again. "What brings you to Liberty City?" He asked weary from his lack of sleep. He was also cautious as there was a raider threat and suddenly a man with a truck full of slaves pulls in.

Par looked at the ragged, but heavily-armed man who accosted him, seeing in that man's eyes the look of a survivor and warrior. He then decided to tell the truth.

"Ah, I'm going to see my friend, the Mayor. You see, I just freed some people and am bringing them over to City Hall to get them a new home, room, and board. Although, now that I think about it, getting them new clothes - they already ate and drank on the way - was something I overlooked. Do you know where I can get some new clothing?" He then looked John in the eyes, his glasses glinting in the light.

"And yes, I freed them after buying them; I also freed more and kept them on as paid workers; paying good purified water and food, too."

Old Man's Corner John presumed. "Aye? You seem to be a stange young man" He said plainly, watching him closely. John had never been one to sugarcoat the things that left his mouth. "What did you do with the paid ones?" He asked. A paid slave was indeed free but paid to do what is how this man would be judged in John's eyes.

"They're at the New York Public Library's Main Branch, or rather, its ruins, salavaging books. I'm a Book Runner; I sell guns too, more than books, but, well, let's just say that knowledge is our love, or rather, my love. The Book Runners are searching the library for texts on agriculture, medicine, technology, and even history so we can stop ourselves from repeating the same mistakes over and over." Par smiled.

"Let's just say that with the Brotherhood searching and confiscating 'advanced technology', this is a niche we fit in nicely."

"Now, direct me to the clothes' shop, please?"

Timeskip

As the owner of the clothes shop directed the freed slaves in the process of dressing in new outfits, Par then spoke to John.

"So, what's your name? And, clearly, you must be a trained fighter, someone with a grudge in his eyes, as well as someone who's...seen things."

John usually skipped the formality of names but since the young man had been so out right with him as of his arrival he thought to share. "Names John." He paused and looked up as the clothes were shuffed over to the slaves while they dressed. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead "I guess you could say that, I've seen what most people have seen in this land. Death and shit holes" He looked back up at the slaves and pointed at the kids, "I used to be like them, rotting away in Old Mans Corner, lookin for anything that meant maybe I could stop working, even for an hour" He spoke angerly and looked down. He let his emotions get the better of him.

"What about you? These so called "Book runners" There a lot of you?" He asked the man quietly.

Par sympathized, while at the same time, this confirmed one of his objections to slavery; that it bred the best warriors and survivors, who inevitably escaped and held grudges. He thanked, well, whoever it was up there for helping him avoid being the target of one of said grudges.

"Well," the young man spoke, "a fair few in Upstate New York. We build gun factories, schools, and help farmers rediscover how to make the land bring forth crops for them. We help rebuild civilization with the promise that, one day, there would be a land without raiders killing you in the night, or slavers taking you as you go to work. But we're not unselfish; we ask for a cut of the profits for everything that we do to rebuild." Par smiled.

"We'll probably end up corrupt and bloated in a few generations, but right now, we're building something good, or at least better than other things, with the power of money and barter."

"Oh, and my name is Paradise 'Par' Rapids, by the way," he held out a hand, before his face turned serious again.

"You say that you've seen a lot; what do you know of the Brotherhood? What are they actually doing?"

John smirked and chuckled at his forwardness in his words. "The Brotherhood?" he glared. "All they seem to do now adays is sit in there safe house and pretend to help us. I've only met a few in my days, I guess you could call them military men. They are leeches." John spat. "I cannot say complete horrible words agaisnt them though" He took out water and sipped it. "They do help when they choose to" He looked over the the other side of the room. "and I've had some personal connection to them" He trailed, avoiding question.

He glanced over to the counter as the slaves finished up getting clothes. "Looks like they are done. Off to your friend?" He chuckled.

"Of course, of course," Par said as he and the freed slaves moved away...

Eight men, chosen for their strength and health. Eight women, chosen for similar criteria. Thirteen Children between the ages of sixteen to six, and one old man who demonstrated his skills at writing, reading, and doing sums. 4450 Bottlecaps, almost one whole crate. Par and presumably Greg led the slaves - not that they would be slaves any longer if Par had his way - to the Army Truck that had been comandeered from Robo-Co.

After that, Par then went to his own Solar - Electric Truck, before beginning his drive to the New York Public Library's main branch...

Timeskip

"We're here," Par said, gesturing to his mercs as they got to the dilapidated building. "Bring out the slaves."

With a nod, the mercenaries did as the man wished, bringing out the slaves - who had been somewhat cramped in the army truck - delicately, which was what Par wanted it to be. The young man would notice that while all were shackled, only a few had bona-fide slave collars; apparently, Old Man's Corner's supply had ran out. Either way, Par took out a remote, pressed it...and the slave collars fell off. He then personally took a key and unshackled the rest of the slaves, starting with the children.

"All right," he spoke, "you're free to go; all of you. If you want, I'll take you in my other truck to Liberty Island myself, where you can live as free people."

The slaves were shocked, uncertain if this was real. Once they saw that Par was serious, one of them, a black man from The Pitt, spoke:

"What's the catch?"

"Well, just hear me out," he spoke. "You see, I'm conducting a salvage operation in this place in order to look for old books and tech, as well as preserve them. I'm willing to pay in food and purified water," he can see the slaves' eyes light up, "if you will help me. The job's going to be fairly easy, although you'll have to follow the old man," he gestured to the learned man, "and his lead here."

"Also, I will be taking the kids under 12 to Liberty Island; they're not old enough for such dangerous work."

"So," the man said, "which of you will accept my offer? Again, those who don't can come with the kids to Liberty Island."

In the end, only one adult man and one woman chose not to take the job, opting to accompany the kids under 12 to Liberty Island. That left 12 adults and 5 children over 12, which was cool.

Either way, Par would drive back to Liberty Island, leaving Greg, the Mercs, and the Robots to start the set-up for the salvage operations...

((@TheUnknowable, your turn))

"Ok", said Greg as Par started to drive away, "Robots, form a perimeter. Stop any threat within 50 meters of the building. DO NOT, however, harm any of these people." He waved his hand at the former slaves and mercenary. "Also, don't hurt any human or brahmen unless they attack you or one of these people first. I don't want a caravaneer to get shot for trying to sell us stuff. Prince, protect me." The robots spread out and surrounded the building, forming various patrol routes based on their own programming peculiarities, all except for Prince, who walked over to Greg and stood behind him.

Greg then addressed the former slaves. "Stay here while I lead the Mercs inside to clear any threats from the building. There are two cases of bottled water and one of Nuka-colas in the back of the truck, as well as a crate of blamco Mac'n'cheese. Get something to eat or drink if you want. We'll be back in less than an hour."

He lead the Mercs inside and split them up into teams. They then went through and systematically cleared every room, killing every hostile creature, opening every door and disarming every trap. When they were done fourty minutes later they returned to the front desk. "Ok, now that the place is clear, I need you to get the bodies out of here so that the don't stink up the place while we're here. Pile the edible creatures in the break room, the non-edible ones outside so that we can burn them, and the robots over in that corner so I can look at them later." He pointed to a corner near the front door, beside the vending machines.

He then went outside, noticing that several of them had eaten or drank already, and had the workers follow him back inside. "Ok," he said addressing them, "I need you to gather anything you can find that might be worth something and bring it back here. The old man and I..."

"Lawrence" he old man said.

"Ok, then, Lawrence and I will sort the books. If you find any books, just stack them here behind the front desk. If you find anything that isn't a book, but you think it is worth salvaging, put it in that office over there. We'll go through it later. I'll need at least one person to stay here and help us move books."

A teenage girl stayed with them as the others left to look for salvage. He addressed Lawrence. "Ok, we're going to need to sort them into completely ruined, partially ruined, and good. We'll pile the ruined one's up and get rid of them later, but the partially ruined and good ones will need to be packed into crates so that we can ship them out of here." He then looked at the teenage girl, Sky she told him, "I'll need you to move all of the food and drinks into the break room, through that door and to the right." He pointed to the door's back room. "Then you'll need to bring the crates for them back in here so that we can pack book into them." She nodded and went outside to get the crates.

"NYC Department of Sanitation Central Repair Shop". The long name nearly reached off her withered Pip-Boy's screen. The map indicated a distance of 1,600 feet left until she'd reach the treasure trove of old world tech she was told about by a Liberty Island bartender. The only thing in her way was a sea of graves. Mt Zion Cemetery, claimed by the superstitious to be haunted by ancient spirits. Howls of their lost souls emanating from deep within the stony labyrinth, some like to say anyway. She had no fears regarding the people long past, more to do with the feral ghouls that feast on their dug up corpses.

She sat atop the guard railing of the old elevated 495 high way. It was quiet, the only sound coming from the ember at the end of her cigarette and the deep breathes she took after every drag. A stretch of road typically full of roving caravans, desolate with the approaching sun set and rumored dangers hidden in the wasteland's dusty dark. The dark allowed her benefits, her night vision goggles allowed for sight while any run-of-the-mill raider couldn't see her. She limited her threats to only the stupid ghouls. She rose binoculars to her eyes to check once more for any other easier way around the cemetery. Aside from the fallen remains of the nearby 278, her only other option would be booking it through the dense neighborhoods nearby, but the likely presence of super mutants or raiders cleared that idea from her mind. So it was settled, through the cemetery.

As the last sun ray vanished behind the horizon, as her cigarette butt hit the street below, the dark ambiance of twilight arose. Echo lowered her binoculars and repelled down the side of the 495 highway, landing into the edge of the cemetery. Gravestones obstructed her view of the distant facility, but she could still see two towering smokestacks from the the facility's adjacent factory. She swept her ashen hair out of her remaining pale blue eye, and started on her way through the burial grounds as stealthily as possible. Knowing that any sound could alert ghouls to her presence.

@KenyeIsMyLife

Forty

Hours had passed since Forty had left the smoldering wreck, he hadn't really payed attention to how low the sun was in the sky and before he knew it, it was hidden far below the buildings casting just a eerie twilight into the air. It would be another day's walk to Liberty City where he meant to ask some locals the whereabouts of his friends; for now he was left wandering near some sort of park. The park however seemed off. Stone buildings and plaques rose from the ground, some cracked and overgrown with stubborn but dried out weeds, some remained relatively pristine in the landscape.

Forty stared in quiet awe, just moments before he was crossing toppled roadways and mantling imposing ruins,but now it was just a flat plain interwoven with stone crosses and slabs. It had a somberness about it, but that didn't take from the apparent danger of his situation. He'd been around long enough to know the dangers the night brings; only the truly dangerous monstrosities and the painfully desperate Wastelanders came out after dark. He'd have to find some shelter.

The sun had settled further into the horizon, the night quickly approaching, when he heard the clink of metal and leather on concrete. His gaze turned upwards at a silhouette rappelling down the side of a highway. It cleared the height and worked to make itself as small and inconspicuous as possible privy to their situation. She was uncannily good at it, but he'd already seen her and it doesn't take much to keep an eye on something you're intently focused at. He started to make his way towards the silhouette before he lost it in the myriad of stones, and mimicked its movements, not wanting to be the blubbering idiot that alerts a deathclaw or something. He was making good progress until his unfortunate hands ran across a stone cross and it came crumbling down in a dusty heap, quite audibly he might add.

@XDark AnorexiaX

Alan Anderson - Enclave

JFK International Airport

"Ladies, Gentlemen," said Alan Anderson to the gathered personnel of the New York Cell. "I have recieved bad news; Chicago has fallen to a surprise attack from the Brotherhood of Steel." The following looks were that of shock and dismay, which secretly pleased Alan. "We are now the sole surviving remnant of the United States of America, the sole representatives of Pure Humanity left on this good earth."

"Due to this, and the clear and present danger presented by the Brotherhood presence in New York City, I am reluctantly taking on the role of Commander-in-Chief of the United States of America's Armed Forces; it is my belief that as the highest-ranked member of this cell -"

"You're a damned f****t, that's what you are!" shouted another soldier, his prime adversary in the cell, the Middle-aged Brian Nakamura. "A fairy is not suited to command this cell, especially not one sucking on mommy and pappy's titties!"

"I knew you were going to say that," spoke Alan calmly, before drawing out his laser pistol - both men were in armor, without helmets - and shooting the man nonchalantly in the head.

A great many of the Enclave troops drew their weapons, before several figures burst in from nearby doors - Alan's personal squad of 'Hedonists', clad in power armor, accompanied by several lower-ranked privates, also in power armor, but with purple chevrons painted on them.

"As you can see," Alan spoke, "I hold the loyalty of the majority of this base's military personnel." He then made another gesture, and from a door behind him came several civilians in business suits; men and women belonging to the Enclave's civilian administration. "And while we're at it, I have the loyalty of at least some of the base's civilian administration." One of the civilians, a wiezened old white man who walked with a cane, loped over to Alan's side, causing the man to proclaim:

"Do not be afraid, though; although I am now the leader of all Enclave troops, this man - Edward Dusk - will serve as a reminder that the civilian arm of the Enclave is alive and well. As he is the highest-ranking civilian offical here," Alan couldn't recall Edward's past office, but that didn't matter, "he is technically the President of the United States. Edward, your first orders?"

"Ahem. As my first act as President, I am confirming Alan Anderson's appointment to Commander in Chief of the US Armed Forces. His word is the same as my own. My second act would be to proclaim opposition to him as treason - treason to be punished with a new invention made by our Science Deparment." And with that, several scientists came in, each holding stange-looking drills and neural chips.

"Ladies and Gentlement," Alan said, "what you're looking at are brain surgery equipment, as well as a special microchip that, when installed in the brain, forces total obedience to me. Let's just say that anyone who doesn't pledge allegiance to me willingly in ten seconds would become some of the first...targets." He then smirked.

"You won't get away with this!" said one of the remaining dissenters, a woman. "Enslaving your own kind?! How could you?!"

"If you haven't noticed," he spoke, "I already have. As for how could I? Let me make this clear."

"I share the same goals as you do; America will survive. However, it will be in my image, in my name, and I will have power over it. I will do what I want, when I want, and no one will oppose me. It is quite clear from the 'Old Enclave's' failure in the Capital Wasteland that the old ways have failed." At the appalled looks even from his own supporters, Alan smiled again.

"Fear not, I will not compromise the purity of Humanity, at least, not by much. However, killing every mutie is off the table as of today. Instead of exterminating, we are going to exploit. And to show that I mean business..." Alan then turned on a nearby screen, showing his loyal men setting the cell's stores of Modified FEV on fire.

The remaining dissenters surrendered; a few would be neural-chipped anyway, but for now, Alan can be secure in his position...

Timeskip

Alan, now in his business suit, looked over the maps of the various Vaults located in New York State. He was going to need more Manpower if he was going to achieve his goals, and this Vault 81 was going to suit his ends well...

Gone were the days of exterminating every Vault found. If he was to have power and pleasure, he was going to need aid.

(Collab between Letterbee and TheUnknowable)

It was easy; the Overseer of Vault 81 would agree to provide soldiers in exchange for Alan trying to find his runaway 'child wife' (Alan was not sexually attracted to small children; he preferred 18-year olds because they can endure more). Not merely that, but Alan had also agreed to pay in Purified Water for one half of all girl newborns from the Vault; he needed his own 'stock' of purebreed humanity.

Now the Enclave was rebuilding Vault 81 into a true military base, capable of fabricating even Enclave Power Armor, and several new recruits were being sent to Enclave Base One in order to begin their training and integration into the Enclave Armed Forces; they would have to be kept away from the female personnel, though.

After that, Alan then went on a private trip, accompanied only by two bodyguards; he was going to the New York Public Library. When asked why by his Bodyguards, he spoke:

"Let's just say that I have to know how my toys work, and Anatomy lessons are the best way to do it."

A few minutes later...the small party of Enclave Personnel found the structure...only to see that it was occupied.

"Should we purge this place, sir?" said one bodyguard.

"No, not yet," Alan replied. "Someone who's willing to salvage books strikes me as a curiosity." He then walked up to the doors, and spoke in a loud, speaker-amplified voice:

"Anyone here?! This is Colonel Alan Anderson of the United States of America - Commander-in-Chief of the Enclave! I demand to speak with the leader of this project!"

Greg heard the demands and looked up. "D--n it," he said, though he rarely cursed. "I don't want to deal with them, but if I don't they'll probably kill us all." He looked at Sky. "Go tell all of the workers to go to the back room, and get the Mercs up here immediately.

The Merc Captain, who was in the break room, came into the atrium. "Enclave, huh? Hate those guys." he said.

"Yeah, me too, but don't let them find out. I need you to get your men ready in case they attack." The Captain left to prepare his men and Greg looked at Lawrence. "Could you go open the door, please?" The old man walk over and opened the door.

"Glad to see that you people still know the basics of courtesy," Alan was smug. "Now, take me to your leader; I have much to discuss."

Lawrence walked to the front desk where Greg was sitting, plasma rifle in his lap and Prince standing behind him. "Hello, Colonel Anderson. Can I help you with something? Do you wish to trade? Is your equipment in need of repairs? I have quite a few books available if you are the kind of man that values knowledge or a good story."

Hopefully, if he was exceptionally nice, he wouldn't end up with a bullet in him and the Mercs, who were waiting just behind the room's back door, wouldn't have to turn this place into a bloodbath.

"First up, my equipment cannot be repaired by anything you Wastelanders have, but I would love books, starting with the infamous Kama Sutra, then books on Anatomy and Reproductive Health, and after that, a work known as Fifty Shades of Grey," Alan's tone was silken. "Also, I would like more information about this establishment; are you the sole leader of this project? My intuition says that you're not; this requires someone with many resources."

"Actually, this project is financed by someone else. I'm just the administrator he placed in charge. I'll be happy to look up those books for you." He quickly hacked the library computer on the front desk and looked up the listings for the books the Enclave officer was interested in. He then wrote the listings down inside the cover of a ruined book and gave it to Lawrence. "Please find these books if we have at least two decent copies of them and bring one copy of each up here."

Lawrence left to look for the books and Greg addressed the Enclave officer. "I'm sure you understand that we can't sell you our last copy of the book. We can, however, copy it and sell you a copy once we are done doing that."

"All right, Librarian, your call," said Alan. "However, understand this. Under my leadership, the Enclave still stands for the domination of the pure-born Human race. It's just that we do not exterminate people anymore, not when they can be useful. You have made yourself useful today, Librarian, and so this establishment is deserving of life. Question is, though...will your financier be the same way? Or will he or she be a threat?"

"So please, describe everything about him; personality, habits, physical appearance; everything. I will know if you lie to protect him, and if you do that, it will be your last day on this world."

"Well, sir, he is a teenage boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen, and claims to be a member of a group of traders called the "Book Runners". Apparently they finance his operations. Either that or he's just a very good trader. Other than that, I don't know very much about him. He asked me if I wanted to help with this salvage effort and I agreed, as there is likely some pretty valuable information here, and I could use it."

"I see," Alan's faceplate glinted. "Hmm, I dislike using people below 18, but people at that age...ah! Here's another deal. In addition to me telling the Enclave to leave this establishment alone, if you hand over this 'boy' to me at the first opportunity, I will give you his weight in purified water. You can opt out of this deal, if you want, but that means that while I'll keep my word, you'll have to exert extra effort into making yourself useful."

"Oh, and before I forget, the Enclave is also seeking a silver-haired 10-year old who ran away from a place called 'Vault 81'. I don't want her myself - as said, I dislike people below 18 - but the Overseer of the Vault would want information on her." Alan's faceplate then glinted again; the man had an idea.

"Actually, I have different terms now. Give me either the boy or the girl or this establishment will be left untouched for only two months, after which we shall look for ways you can be useful. If no such way is found after two months, then you know what happens." Alan laughed; Greg - not that he knew his name - would probably be loathing him right now.

Greg didn't show any emotion that he was aware of. Anger, hatred, and the like were violently discouraged by V-17, so he was pretty good at hiding his emotions. The main emotion he was feeling, however, was relief. The salvage operation would be over long before then, and they would be gone. He wouldn't have to deal with the penalties of disobedience unless Par decided to stay for some reason. "I'll certainly concider your request. My financier isn't here, however, and there are currently no children here. I will, however, keep an eye out for her."

Lawrence walked in, carrying a stack of books. Greg concidered asking for caps for the books, but decided that, instead, he would leave the matter unspoken, asking for money only if the soldier asked about it. After all, he didn't want the man to decide he wasn't useful anymore. "Your books appear to be here, sir." he said.

"Good," Alan said, handing Greg a gold nugget hidden in a secret pocket. Then, he had his bodyguards take the books, and the party turned to leave...

((Collab Post between Madly33 and Letter Bee))

"Speaking of the Brotherhood..." Par spoke, "the fighting between them and the Enclave - I thought those lunatics were all wiped out in the Capital Wasteland - is disturbing the various raider gangs. Have there been any disturbances near Liberty Island?"

John's mind shot to what Aydon had been talking about, the raiders who had been looking the place up, figured they were planning an attack. "Yes actually, we have had some run ins with Raiders, never anything we couldn't handle. Although they are brutal." He said as they walked.

Par nodded, before saying:

"I'm ready to sell guns; mostly pistols and assault rifles, with a few carbines as well. Can you accompany me to where Mr. Bentsworth is?"

John pulled some water out from under his cloak and drank it while nodding.
"I don't see that being a problem" He said quickly after his drink. "Purhaps I could even look at your goods" He said through a smile knowing that he was running low on ammo. Boring like that he was living so far, but the combination of raider attacks and radroach infestations he was short supplied.

Another nod, and they were off, with Par readying himself for his meeting with Liberty Island's guardian.

As they walked in to the main office in the head of the statue John stopped at the door, holding Par back. "Sir, new comers, some slaves from the corner." He said quickly. He looked forward at a man in a black suit sitting at a rather large wooden desk, pen in hand and cigar in the other, he scribbled quickly and moved it aside.

Bentsworth looked up from his desk and his blue eyes glimmered with curiosity "Yes, Yes come in." He said quickly as he stood up and straightened his tie.
"Names please" He questioned looking at Par.

"Paradise 'Par' Rapids of the Book Runners," Par said, before continuing:

"And I'm here to help you with your raider problem; we sell guns too, although if you're someone who appreciates the beauty of military manuals, well, so much the better."

Bentsworth looked at him again "Raider problem?" He said curiously looking at John.
John winced slightly and looked down sighing. Damn it Aydon... He looked up again

"Yes, a Raider problem, we have noticed some groups looking at the outer walls, purhaps looking for a way in past the guards." He said quickly. Bentsworth moved over to a large guard to his left and whispered in his ear sending him off.

"You are part of the Book Runners you say?" He said kindly and calmly sitting down. "I'm ashamed to say I've only heard faintly of your order." He looked over at John. "Please, inform the general of what you know" He nodded and John left.

"We mostly operate in Upstate New York," Par explained, "trading and rebuilding civilization in various small towns and cities. The largest city we've been through is Troy, where a lot of people from one of those Vaults live. They're nice, but a bit standoffish. Either way, we have a few decent arms factories, schools, farms, and hospitals where we live. We do have a problem with people deciding to enslave our customers and take them all the way to The Pitt." Depopulation, another reason to hate slavery, thought the man.

Bentsworth looked up "Troy? I haven't heard that in a while, had a station up there but as far as I knew they were all killed" he grabbed a piece of paper and began to write again quickly. as he paused from his writing "so this raider problem, what kind of guns shall you sell, I'm interesting, we must supply our men if there is to be an attack"

Par smiled.

"Nothing too fancy, but we sell good Pistols, Carbines, and Assault Rifles. We also have several types of ammo, including armor-piercing rounds. That said, though, I can't sell too many; I still need to defend myself." Not to mention that I have to do a supply run soon.

Bentsworth looked around "alright, I'll send you to my general, he can do business with you. And please, dont be a stranger" he said with a smile and went back to writing.

Astra had been without food for two days, and she had run out of water yesterday... things weren't looking good. As she sat, squatting in an old apartment complex behind a ruined couch that was covered in burns, with a blackened skeleton lying where it had died when the bombs dropped. In front of her were her guns and ammunition, a hunting rifle and 10 shots, and her 10mm pistol with about a clip and a half. She sighed as she loaded her guns, lamenting her hunger and thirst, and got ready to move on in search of something, anything to eat.

She moved not unlike a cat through the ruined apartments of New york, though her ill fitting armor did slow her down somewhat. As she moved from building to building building over wooden ramps that had been erected over time or over collapsed staiwells, she wondered what had happened back in Vault 81 after everyone else learned it was open... would anything change at all? She was sure nothing would change for her sisters, or her mother or the Overseers other wives... the Overseer... could how angry was he when he discovered Astra had escaped? Did he abuse his other wives in retribution? Or worse, could he be looking for her? She had considered it a possibility from the first day she ran, being his favorite plaything. Though she hadn't seen anything for the month or so she had been gone now... as she had gone as far as she could as fast as possible and had only recently needed to forage for food and water extensively.

She fell, Astra had been deep in thought she had not been paying attention to her footing and had taken a nasty fall into a hole in one of the apartments she was moving throughs floorboards. she tumbled a fair distance before catching herself on a length of inactive electrical wire that was haning from the ruined walls of the old complex. It hurt, alot, but she didn't think she had seriously hurt herself... then he saw it. A huge building, long and tall with coloumns and huge doors. AS she was hanging upside down and looking through a giant hole in the wall of an apartment she couldn't see a whole lot else. After getting down and disentangling herself from thw wires Astra decided to get a closer look.

She got to just outside of the doors and had crouched behind a car when she saw them. Walking down the steps were three men in what looked like power armor walking down the steps up to the entrance. Two of them had books in their arms, while the third one simply walked out in front. He appeared as though he had been talking to someone inside the building. The men looked like what the Overseer said the old U.S. army looked like... she decided to stay put until they were gone, considering herself small enough to avoid being seen... she hoped as three large and heavily armored men didn't it well with her.

Alan

Astra was a very unlucky girl, literally. Alan's guards saw a flash of her silvery hair as the little girl tried to hide, and the rightmost one spoke to their commanding officer:

"That seems like the little girl the Overseer wanted us to find. Should we nab her?"

"No," was Alan's reply. "Let her find refuge in the library; this will give me more cause to blackmail the librarian." He chuckled. "Let's see how he deals with the battle between his 'morals' and his fear of me."

And with that, he left.

Perhaps Astra hadn't been as unlucky as she thought, after all...

Par

After Par sold his guns for more caps, as well as dried mussels, grain, maize, and crudely purified water - Liberty Island still had a few water purifiers - he boarded his truck and began to head for The Library again...

@agentmanatee, @TheUnknowable.

Giggling softly Alayna kissed the man beside her softly before sliding off the bed and walking to the bathroom to take a shower and clean up for the day ahead. As the door closed behind her and she looked into the mirror Alayna sighed at herself, exhausted from the last few days. She brushed her teeth slowly as she thought about the most recent events. It had been a month since the Overseer's wife ran away. If that wasn't crazy enough some guys had come in and talked with the Overseer, something about being members of The Enclave or something and wanting to use the Vault as a base, and as a recruitment center. This would be good for some of the women since not as many men would be around, of course this could also be bad.

With less men around that would mean that the breeding girls would increase, but that led to one of the only good things around here. Apparently the group that came by wanted female newborns, so in response the Overseer was going to allow both genders to live once more. Of course that group would only want so many so not all of the newborn girls would be needed, but with less staying perhaps the Overseer would let them all live? Of course only more time will tell. Maybe she could get out of here one day too? Alayna finished brushing her teeth and looked one more time in the mirror sighing heavily once more. Thinks could only get better. With that she turned around and finished getting ready for the day.

After finally getting ready and dressed, well provocatively dressed, Alayna went to start her day. Upon opening the door though a young girl stood in the doorway. If memory served Alayna well the girl was Caroline. A sweet girl in her early teens. Alayna had told her a year ago that she would always be her if the girl needed her, but she hadn't really talked to her since. Today though the girl just suddenly hugged her and started crying as Alayna wrapped her arms around the girl and brought her into the room and they sat down on the floor still holding each other. Alayna hated seeing the other girls like this. The ones that couldn't take what was happening to them, which was a fair amount of the girls here. This shouldn't be happening to them, but it was. So Alayna just sat there and comforted the girl. This was life in Vault 81.

((Collab post between Letter Bee and Ciphra))

Enclave Scientist Jose Barre was supervising a pair of maintenance droids as he began the retrofitting of the Vault’s fabricators for military use. He already disliked the inhabitants already; as far as he was concerned, drug-altered Vaulties were just as bad as Mutants.

He could spare some sympathy for the women, though; some things, even the Enclave didn’t do, at least not until that goddamn libertine Alan had taken over. He sighed, to think that Pure Humanity had come to this…

As he wallowed in his grief, he saw a young woman, 18 years old, provocatively dressed, moving outside, apparently to ‘please’ one of the men. Ugh…

Seeing that he had nothing to do, Jose, a black man who looked about middle-aged, gestured to the young woman to come to him; if she came near, he would ask:

“You, tell me the directions to the medical bay; I want to know more about that drug you Vaulties use.”

Alayna was finally free to do her own thing so she had been going back to her room to probably lay down or just relax, maybe read a book or something, when one of the new people around here called over to her. Alayna quickly smiled and walked over to the man before finally responding.

“Why sure, I could gladly help you with that. Would you like me to show you? It might be a little easier for someone new to the vault.” She offered kindly still smiling and acting pretty innocent considering all things.

“All right,” Jose allowed the woman to guide him, then. After that, he spent several minutes gathering samples of the Fertility Drug and analyzing it, his nostrils flared and chin jutting out; a sign of disgust. Then, he said:

“We’re going to the Overseer.” He then walked off to the Overseer’s office, and after a brief, hurried conversation, in which Alayna can see that Jose was doing some fast talking of his own, the man then said:

“All right; but I want ten Plasma Rifles.”

Jose nodded...then began leading Aylana, as well as his samples of Fertility Drug, out of the Vault and onto a small salvaged atomic car.

He would then drive her into the middle of the Wasteland, before speaking:

“I told the Overseer that I can make a perfect version of his drug, one that would allow the men of the Vault to sire more males. I also told him that I needed a test subject, which is you.” The black man then stared into her eyes.

“I lied about that second part; I plan to make a perfect version of the drug, but I didn’t need you except to salve what remains of my conscience. What does that mean?” He would then hand her a Pistol and a Carbine - nothing fancy, just ordinary stuff - as well as a pack of food and water and a Stimpack, just one.

“That means you’re free to go, wherever you want, as long as you and I never see each other again, Mutie. If you want directions, west is Liberty Island, where more of your kind live.” He then gently pushed her out of the car, then drove off abruptly.

Blinking in heavy confusion as she watched the car drive off Alayna stood there for a moment trying to process what the hell had just happened to her. Was her dream really answered? Could it really have been that simple? And without any cost? Was this a test? That couldn’t be it. So as she tried to process the events that had just unfolded Alayna turned and started walking west, still wondering why it was her. The man could’ve saved anyone of the girls, one of the younger ones, but he chose her. From what he said though they should never see each other again, so she turned slightly and looked back in the direction in which the man had come from.

“Thank you…” She said softly to the empty horizon set before her as she turned and continued to walk towards Liberty whatever the place was.

@Madly33 Their was a figure in the distance a person or rather a ghoul making his way towards Liberty City,Danny the ghoul was heading to Liberty City to meet with someone that apparently had a job for him.Danny was making his way slowly of course he did not want to be shot by some crazie or smooth skin with a gun thinking he is some feral ghoul which he wasn't just yet,Slowly making his way towards the city taking his time crouching behind cover once in a while n case he would be spotted by a gun nut.

"Ain't gonna be killed by a smooth skin...not today" He thought finally making his way towards John's position,Danny hoped he wouldn't be shot but perhaps he should say something to him before that happens."Hi smoothskin...nice day ain't it?" He said walking closer towards him making some small talk to defuse the situation between the ghoul and the human.