After a few hours of walking through the waste coming across a few bloat flies here and there but nothing Erin couldn't handle with her revolver, they finally came up to the bunker. It was to quiet, it make Erin feel restless.

"Come On in here, they should be waiting for us." As he turned the doorknob, time seemed to slow as she saw a wire on the knob pull the pins of a group of grenades. Erin runs and tackles the man in the fedora and the grenades explode when Erin and the man are in mid air and the blast burns the right side of the man and throws them both back three feet.

Still holding the man she takes the brunt of the fall and lands on her shoulder giving her a dead arm. The man was still alive but screaming in pain. She tried to get him on his feet to try to walk, but then his head exploded and he went limp and fell the the ground.

She then stood there and realized there was someone behind her. Get down on your knees a strange voice kalled from behind her, she then felt the cold barrel of a gun on the back of her head. She did what the voice told her to do and got on her knees, the stranger too her riffle and revolver but the subduer obviously whasn't experienced because she could reach the Bowie knife in her right boot.

She put her hand in a position where it would be easy to pull out and waited till they got closer then in the blink of an eye she pulled out the knife and stabbed the stranger in the temple with such force it broke through the skull an into the brain. Then she sed to herself "that one small mistake coast you your life" then pulled her knife out of the strangers head, cleaned it on the stranger's clothes, took her guns back, and reached into her employers pocket to only find 78 more Capps.

That cheapskate was going to cut her short of the deal, and she didn't like that. She kicked the man in the stomach and walked a lonesome rode to diamond city where she would hope become employed again, and on that rode the thought to herself "I can't even remember his name. No one will before long."

What Tommy stumbled onto was clearly the ass end of an interesting encounter, a once proud and fiercely feared Death claw lay in a growing puddle of it's own blood, its limbs all blown to hell and jagged bit of wood sticking out of its head. How's that for modern art? Ha! Leaning on the wall beside him, Thomas slowly lifted himself to his feet only swaying for a few seconds before gaining his composure, steadily he looked down his rifles sights to search out what had done the beast in, much to his surprise he found a small boy firmly planted on his ass among the rubble. This has gotta be the luckiest little shit in the entire wasteland, maybe I should ask him for a lock of hair for good luck, that wouldn't be weird right? No, that'd definitely be fucking weird. He thought with a grimace, shaking his head to clear out his drunken internal ramblings.

"Hey! Hey kid." He called out, lowering his rifle to cradle it in his arms. "You alright?" He asked in addition, waving a free arm to draw the lads attention. It was just then that he noticed the old fellow the lad was seemingly sat on top of. Of course the boy couldn't have done it alone you idiot, hell you heard shots from a lazer rifle and the boy clearly only possesses a pistol, the bloody thing is still holstered at his hip.

Tommy felt his hand sliding down the well worn contours of his rifle to rest at the trigger, his finger hovering over it before he made a mental effort to pull it back away, if there were others, any hostile moves might result in his end. All of a sudden a crash came from a nearby building, followed by the gentle chiming of broken glass raining down, before he even knew what it was Tommy had whipped his rifle around and fired a shot that splintered the wooden globe, that came hurling out, into a hundred pieces. Fuck me, let's hope 12 bullets is a lucky number.

As Erin was walking she must have gotten lost,"that dam yao guai just had to chase her and get her off track, no matter, She gave it a present of a .50 bullet point blank range to to face." She thought. That's when she herd a shot near an old broken house.

She was down wind of it so she coughs the smell of rotting corpses, "raiders maybe" she thought to herself. As she walked closer she saw where the smell was coming from, it was a Deathclaw on the ground, it's legs blown off to spaghetti and it's face was mangled with a wooden shiv stuck in its eye. Erin pulled the wraps around her face tighter trying to block the smell. She walked closer to the site.

looking for the cause of the gunshot that's wen she saw a man looking panicked. Then she whipped out her .45 mustang revolver and aimed it at the man holding the gun, "you got a death wish?" "Firing up in the air like that could attract some un wanted attention." "Luckily I'm the one who showed up, now...tell me what happened here and who you are, and tell the truth, I hate lires."

Ren paused as the globe exploded. She picked up her wounded arm and stuck her hand out the window in an attempt at peace. If this arm got shot, it wouldn't be much of a loss to her. She took a minute to think, I suppose I could go with the innocent, clumsy human...

"D-Don't shoot! Please?" Ren pulled her arm back into the house when she heard someone else talking. Ah, so there are more people here than just the old man, boy, and idiot. she began crawling through the window, only to 'fall' out of it. Ren hoped she didn't break anything, and that her guns weren't noticeable. She sat up and squinted at the closer person, the one that seemed to have a thing for shooting globes.

"H-hello," Ren gave a small wave but remained on the ground. She didn't feel like attempting to push herself off the ground with only one arm. She could wait.

@Athoriel @Lunar

"Se, what I tell ya! That shot attracted more than just me. Or is she your accomplice?" Erin putts her mustang revolver back in her holster." I can see your just a salvager, just by the way you stand and the way you dress. But you" she points to the girl that fell out of the window onto the floor. "You...not so much, you look reasonable."

"Oh great so there's a whole party here now? Damn, why wasn't I invited earlier?" Newton's sneer was perhaps more a reaction to the confusion and mayhem than anything else.

A kid, two chicks - both of which are armed, some psycho shooting a globe, and is that a old man hiding behind the goddamn tub? I suppose things couldn't get much weirder. Still he was alive, for now. The Deathclaw lay in a heap where the kid had brought it down. Its face forever twisted in the anguish and hatred of its final moments alive. At least that thing is dead. Though he was well aware even with the beast brought down that the scene could still result in his death. Newton didn't know these people, and their first impressions were less than ideal.

His eyes sharpened at the kid who had fallen over his leg. "Would you mind gettin' off me squirt? I know this was a life or death situation and all, but that doesn't mean we need to get all touchy-feely." Whether the kid actually intended to kill the Deathclaw or not, he still garnered some respect from the mercenary. Though judging by Newton's sarcastic tone it was hardly an obvious respect.

I should probably leave, or try to. I don't want to get caught up in all of... well, whatever this is. Newton would be able to fight again if it was demanded, but he hardly relished the concept of taking all these people on. Yeah, that probably wouldn't end too pretty. The Deathclaw fight hadn't harmed him physically, at least not enough to waste his final stimpack. The only thing that had taken a knock had been his stomach and his ego. I could have taken it down if I wanted to. He scrunched his nose at the realization that he had been bested by an almost dead creature. I wanted to lose. Now these people won't perceive me as a threat and they'll let me walk. Heh, even he didn't buy his own lie.

Newton still had a firm grasp on the bindings of his Deathclaw gauntlet, if this went sideways then he'd have to be ready. Let's just hope I can talk my way out of this one. Though if his previous confrontation with the chem dealers said anything about him, it was that he wasn't half as charming as he thought.

Maybe this time it'll be different. Or, more likely, end in just as much bloodshed.

Man, this was just not his day.

-removed-

Tommy squinted suspiciously at the new comer, he had snapped around upon first hearing her voice, his gun however was lazily aimed as the tension began to sober him up. Oh! Lucky am I? He thought bitterly, he had seen her kind before, hot shit mercenaries that thought they were all that before they enjoyed a last meal in the form of a bullet. Fuck em' and fuck her! His brow knitted together in a frown, hidden from view behind his mask, cautiously lowering his gun, but not removing his hands from it so as to promote a more easy exchange between them.

"And why should I tell you anything?" He replied in as civil a manner as possible, but despite himself his words were laced with a venomous anger at how she demanded so much of him. "I don't know you, nor you me." He added as an afterthought, rolling his right shoulder to combat the stiffness he felt from his unease, biting down onto his lip hard as he re-opened the wound on his side. A fresh flow of crimson washed down his side, expanding the previous dark mass as it washed away the dried blood from hours ago, but he stood through it with nothing but a grimace, thankful for his mask, as it was all that hid his discomfort.

Tommy inclined his head carefully to track the source of a new voice, all the while ensuring he kept an eye on the Merc, behind her he briefly saw the figure beneath the lad stirring, but quickly reapplied his attention. Holy shit, I nearly shot the poor thing. He thought, a feeling of guilt swelling up inside him, the lady looked to be in dire straits with a busted arm. Dislocated most likely. With one last weary glance at the Merc, Thomas made a move toward the lady on the ground, biting the insides of his cheeks til he drew blood as pain lanced up his side, like a fire burning beneath his skin.

"Yo-you alright?" He asked with a voice thick with pain. Stupid! Speaking was a mistake, and of course she isn't okay, just look at that fucking arm! Tommy steeled himself as he crouched in front of her, doing his best to recover from his folly by talking over his previous question. "Do you mind if I...?" He asked, trailing off the last part to his question as another wave of pain washed over him, instead gesturing to her arm with a nod of his head. Carefully placing his gun on the ground as he waited for her permission.

Ren gave a little laugh, "You can try, but I don't think it'll help. Oh, and thanks for not shooting me, I really appreciate it," she adjusted herself on the hard dirt, it already growing uncomfortable. "Could- Could you please help me off the ground?" she looked down towards her broken shoulder with a frown.

@Athoriel

The fact that he was still whole was an improbable yet acceptable outcome, the Deathclaw itself was no longer moving from what X could tell. His auditory sensors were slowly recovering from the overload caused by the mine’s explosion, but he was starting to make out voices. Near him was a young human with the telltale squeak of testosterone in its prepubescent voice, in a heightened state of anxiety; their body only slowly coming down from the effects of fight or flight chemical additives to their cardio-respiratory and neuromuscular systems. And also, a gen-3 synth. interesting...

Another pair were down the road away, downwind so he couldn’t tell much about them besides their genders. Likely one would have been the sniper, as the shots had come from that direction.

He reached up to grab onto something and hoist himself up, and found a piece of wood near to hand. He tried to put his weight on it and pull, but the wood came loose in a slurping sound as it was wrenched free of its apparent resting place inside the deathclaw’s skull. X flopped back down in the tub. It was times like this X did not mourn the loss of his sight, he would not wish to see the looks on everyone’s faces.

“Would one of you gentlemen kindly help me up, and has anyone seen my stick?”

Shaine gave a little gasp and picked himself up clumsily off the stranger. He nervously dusted off his jacket, for all the good it would do, and spoke sheepishly, “Um...sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to--”

He spun around as the old man’s hand reached from the tub and yanked the stake from the beast’s eye with a disgusting sucking sound.

Holey moley! The old man was still alive!

The squire moved to the tub and peered inside at the man, “Hey, mister, are you okay?”

As the adrenaline started to subside once again, for the fourth time today, Shaine was starting to feel very sore and very exhausted. His hands trembled slightly, his head throbbed, his back hurt in various bruised places, and the burn on his thigh stung with an intense pain that hurt more than anything ever…and he once had a broken arm. This was so much worse.

Suck it up, soldier!

First there had been an explosion - not just any ol' explosion, but that of a mini nuke. Those had been such a rare sight back in the day and nothing compared to a nuclear powered oil rig exploding. The old man lit a cigarette and began cautiously moving towards what had sounded like a fight of some kind. Back in the day Max wouldn't have hesitated about going in to combat - admittedly back in the day he had been equipped with a power armor and there had been a lot of good people backing him up - nowadays being cautious was the better choice.

Max spat on the ground and straightened up. He had been travelling around the wastes for over 40 years and no one had killed him yet. If he'd go down in a firefight the better for him. He approached the small gathering calmly, like he was just taking a nice evening stroll - or was it morning? Anyways. He spotted what he counted as a woman and at least one man - not to mention a deathclaw, which wasn't moving. The old man lit a second cigarette, inhaled some smoke and began coughing rather violently. Still he kept on approaching the gathering. The brown duster hid his vault suit quite well - it also hid his pistol at the moment. "Well well, You lot got a damn deathclaw? I'll be damned, nasty buggers." He spoke calmly with a little peculiar drawl in his voice while stopping within pistol range. "You folks know if there is a settlement or sum'thin where an ol' man could get a drink aroun' here?"

"Hey Old man I'm just as lost as you, I just stumbled across this group when I was traveling and wanted an explanation of what exactly happened here, but I don't think I'll get it, and I have a feeling Im not welcome here. If you want to travel together I'd be happy to, I was leaving anyway."

@Marcus XVI

Tommy gave a lighthearted chuckle at her comment, proceeding to inch toward her injured side, stretching out cautiously to lay hands on her arm, his eyes flickering up occasionally to gauge any reactions of pain.

"Could- Could you please help me off the ground?" She had asked, her face cast into a frown at the sight of her shoulder.

"Just as soon as I fix this." He replied, easing her arm into a 90 degree angle. "You're gonna need to see a doctor about any other potential injuries that may of been caused by this...." He added, beginning to pull at her wrist whilst his other hand held her elbow to help guide the head of the humerus back into the socket. "And who knows how far the nearest one is." He finished, the arm making an odd clicking sound unlike anything he had heard before, he really hoped he hadn't severed any blood vessels in her upper arm like he had when he performed this procedure on an old Scavver buddy of his. Poor bastard had to have it amputated after it turned blue n' shit. He recollected with a frown, moving his hands back to his side so he could push off the ground to his feet. "Is it feeling alright? Can you move it again?" He asked, focusing extra hard as he began to feel light headed from standing too fast. And from losing all that blood,... you fucking moron. His brain reminded him, it was for damn sure being an asshole today.

With a shake of his head and a heavy squint of his eyes, the world steadied and his body felt more tangible again, his sense of feeling returning, especially for the wound in his side. Hell, I'mma need a doctor too. But there was no use in showing pain now, especially considering there was another who needed help, so he extended his hands to help the lady up.

Ren moved her arm upwards and smiled like a child. "Thank you," she accepted his hand and pulled herself off the ground. "It looks like you need a doctor more than I do," she gestured to his bloodied side. "I'm sure someone here knows how to stitch, although I'm not sure how friendly they'll be," she adjusted the backpack so the weight of it was evenly distributed. She grabbed the radio and turned it up a little, now that she wasn't hiding. The Swan was playing, a welcome difference to the violent sound of the earlier songs, especially the Mars one. Ren released the little yellow radio and let it swing from her also lemon backpack.

An idea then popped into Ren's mind. She had a few stimpaks, and this man looked like he could take a couple bullets for the team. Besides, looking like a bit of an idiot would add to her fake identity. She moved her backpack onto the ground and unzipped a side pocket. Ren took one of the fuller looking ones out and held it out for the swaying man in front of her. "This is the best I have, it should keep you from falling on your face until you find a doctor. I'm Fein by the way."

@Athoriel

Finally finding his feet X listened to the interactions of the motley crew (ooc: haha) assembled in the streets of Concord after the attack. Their vocal patterns, tones, inflections, accents, word choice – these revealed a menagerie of backgrounds. The wastelands were full of errant wanderers, desperate or entrepreneurial scavengers, demented loners, and apparently… small boys who were being inducted into propagandist cults.
He listened to the tension in some tête-à-têtes easing, some misgivings in other dialogues becoming more pronounced. It was obvious that not everyone here was comfortable being around everyone else.

Which was unfortunate, as they would all soon have to take shelter together in close quarters. His radiation sensors were pinging heatedly, and barometric pressure was dropping at a rapid pace. A radiation storm was blowing in from the west. It was going to be quite violent…

There was something off about some of the people he had stumbled upon - annoyingly enough Max just couldn't come up with what it was... After you have been on a chem binge and one of your companions turns out to be a deathclaw you kinda tend to sense these sort of things. He turned his concentration from the 'better days' towards Erin. "I ain't so much lost as I'm w'out a dest'nation. Ya see this whole thing..." The old man sort of motioned around himself and actually smirked just a bit - it was a joyless, not quite mocking smirk of a man who had seen a lot - perhaps not 'seen it all', but close. "This whole damn era, this whole damn wasteland. Though there ain't too much to see there's always sum'thin see." Max didn't sound excited or worried, more a bit disappointed.

He shook his head and glanced at the other members of the little group when the word 'doctor' was mentioned. "Now, I ain't no miracle man, but I do know a thin' or two 'bout some simple surgery and all that - I'd need some proper tools to..." His eyes were drawn to the old, worn and barely functioning Pip Boy on his left wrist - those with keen eyes and at least rudimentary knowledge would recognize it as the 2000 model. Either the geiger counter had just totally malfunctioned - that happened with unnerving frequency these days - or the wind was bringing with it something really bad. "There's always a new fuckin' Enclave on your path..." Max mumbled the words that could have actually sounded like a form of prayer, but the dripping hatred made it a very obvious curse - a rather eloquent curse admittedly, but still.

Thomas felt his mouth turn dry as nervousness swallowed him, of course it hadn't mattered if they couldn't see his face, his wound was as plain as anything his expressions would have given away. His fingers gingerly touched his side, marring his fingers in crimson and not knowing why, he decided to play along with the stupid thought that came into his head.

"Oh, this isn't my blood." He said with feigned surprise, recoiling almost comically from the sight of it, as he gave a nervous chuckle. It's not that he didn't want help, it's just that he didn't want to owe these people he had just met. God knows anyone of em' could be one of those damn cultists that worship the glow. "You keep that. You might need it for later." He added, groaning internally as an older fellow approached at the mention of the word Doctor. However he quickly gained interest in the old man, as he dropped his line short to turn to the familiar crackling sound of a Geiger counter, seemingly attached to a device at his wrist. Well I'll be, the blokes some fucking Vault dweller with a pip boy. It made sense as he could now see the blue vault suit peeking through the rest of the old mans attire, he wondered what other goodies the fella had, or hell, if he could lead him to the vault he came from, as it clearly wasn't from around here with that accent.

Ren raised an eyebrow but put the stimpak back in her bag. She zipped her bag closed and looked at the rest of the group. Five males and one female who was standing off to the side. She directed her attention to the girl that had wanted an explanation.

"Miss, from what I saw, the boy over there stumbled across a wounded Deathclaw that began to chase him, but it got distracted by something else. The distraction came from the mine that the elderly man by the tub later threw at him, and something out here shot the Deathclaw's arm off and blew out its legs. The wood lodged in its brain seems to be what killed it, and the noise along with the giant beast attracted the rest of these people here, and probably other things. It looks like we were all passing through the town when we were either distracted by, killing, or being chased by the Deathclaw. Does that help clear things up?" Ren finished her summary and stepped a bit away from the vault man, who she was unsure of his position in all of this. Her immediate assumption was that everyone here was hostile, even the clumsy boy that ended the Deathclaw. The person that had placed Ren's shoulder back where it belonged seemed to be a little more trustworthy than the rest, especially since it looked as if her false identity had worked on him.

Ren moved her hand a little closer to the pistol on her belt, slightly more uncomfortable now that everyone had shown themselves to her. At least they aren't hiding in the shadows waiting to drag me down with the Deathclaw. the thought barely made her feel comfortable. Ren began formulating a plan in case things turned violent, but it looked more like she was staring into space. The hand closest to her weapon clenched and unclenched as she thought, a habit that she had picked up from one of the scientists she had run away from.

@Lunar @Tahlon @Marcus XVI @Athoriel

Slowly but surely the damn geiger counter kept going up - which meant it was not malfunctioning this time. Max began hastily looking around for anything that would provide shelter from a possible storm. He chose for now to ignore the tenseness of the little group and the little sense of hostility. "Ok, this is really bad. I ain't claimin' I trust any of ya as far as I can throw ya, but for the time bein' we need to get to a safe place." He still wasn't sure what was coming - a ridiculously mutated being of some kind, or some kind of a radiation storm - but whatever it would be it would not be good for anyone involved.

The old man's Pip Boy had some very outdated maps of the area - nothing that would really be of use for them now. "Should have taken some damn mentats with me... Would help me concentrate..." Max mumbled more to himself than any member of the group. He shook his head and spat on the ground. "Is there a bunker or vault or... any large buildin's with an intact basement here? Pref'rably with only a few windows..." At times like these he kinda missed old California - there seemed to be all sorts of places to hide in when things went south.