Rick Noel - Clinic

Rick turned around as he heard the doctor and Frieda."Good morning Rick. Yes, indeed I saw them. In fact, I was just having a conversation with Frieda about their arrival here. She was just as concerned as we were, albeit for different reasons," he paused for a moment, "Frieda...this is Rick Noel. I'm not sure if you were properly introduced yet...but, well, he's an...associate of mine. I've told her who we are Rick. I believe we can trust Ms. Richter far better than we might trust any of our other informants on the surface. She doesn't have any reason to hate us, and indeed, sympathizes with us far better than anyone else might. I'm not an SRB Agent, I know, and perhaps I overstepped myself, but we need friends out here..."

Rick looked at them both, “No, doctor… I trust your judgment. But yes, miss we ware former institute fellows, left homeless after its destruction.” Rick wasn’t exactly sure how to react. It didn’t matter in the end, the doctor outranked Rick, and his word was final. If he felt it was necessary, it must have been with good reason.

"Who else knows about your...affiliations? Anyone?" she posed to both men, "If the Commonwealth wastelanders hate your...origins as much as mine, my guess is you have either kept it quiet or only told trusted folks. Let's just keep it that way, for now." She glanced back around, out the window and into the street. "Doesn't seem like they dropped off much more than a generator. No troops, artillery, anything like that." She turned back to Arthur and Rick. "Best thing to do is just act casual. Go about treating patients like usual, and...uh..." Frieda looked at Rick. "Whatever you do best. What is it you do?"

Rick looked back Frieda, a little taken a back, part of him felt she didn’t like him, or treated him with scorn due to his age. It was something he was used to living in the institute, but found it odd to experience here. He replied, “I’m a former SRB handler..not that there’s any importance to that , but…” Before he could finish, she turned to the doctor and told him she’d be back.

“Okay…did she say they dropped off a generator? Why would they… so I take it that’s why I saw some scribes up on that roof. Are they setting up a power grid for the town?” Rick said out loud as he watched Frieda leave and then turned to the doctor. “Is it me or does she seem a little off to you?”

Ace Makovich - Diner - Early Morning

Brandy turned to look up at him, her green eyes sparkled in the low lighting. “Good morning Honey,” she smiled, then she let out a long sigh, “you didn't wake me, Betty did a little bit ago. Why is she such a jerk?”

“I’m guessing it cause it’s in her nature, plus the fact someone sucker punched her, may have a tiny bit to do with it.” Ace replied as he placed his arm around her squeezing her.

She sat up, realizing she was wearing her birthday suit, she blushed and covered herself up, “Do you have a shirt I can wear?” A shy smile formed on her lips as she looked up at Ace. He grabbed her a shirt and she pulled it over head and bit her lip, “Can you hand me those?” She pointed at her panties in the floor, “Do you have a pair of boxers I can wear too?” she shrugged and grinned, “I'm sorry, I should have thought this through a little more. I had hoped you would let me stay the night, but the thought of spare clothes never crossed my mind.”

Ace let out a chuckle as he got up, picked the panties up and handed them to Brandy, “You know no reason to blush, nothing I haven’t seen before…” He went over to the dresser and handed him what she asked. She stood up and pulled Ace to her, burying her face into his chest as she hugged him. Brandy looked up at him; standing on her tippy toes she gave him a little kiss.

“I’d go out the cellar door if I were you. Steve is upstairs and so are other folk, plus Betty,” Ace said after he kissed her. He started to look around the room, for his tool box and found it under the bed. He placed it on the bed and opened it to make sure everything was in there, and closed it up. He kissed Brandy again and headed for the cellar door.

He stopped and turned, “Oh sorry, I know I just got here but we got a new generator and I want to make sure it’s ready to run as soon as possible...oh before I forget, yes there was vertibird. No, Brotherhood is not invading us. Yes, there are two scribes up on the apartment building, and No it won’t cost anyone anything.”

Steve cooper- revenge planning – morning

Steve was sitting in the diner drinking his free coffee and reading the newspaper... mostly about the gunners getting beaten by the minutemen farmers when the diner’s basement hatch opened and out came brandy but with dishevelled look and wearing one of presumably acey’s shirts which was several sizes too big for her.

“Looks like someone had a fun night.” Steve chuckled as the twerp walked out of the diner and towards her house (and I assume) being mocked by Betty as he did.

“God I hate that bitch.” Betty muttered before she turned to Steve with an angry look on her face “I thought you were going to help me get payback on her.”

“I am...”Steve said as he leaned him to make sure no-one could overhear them “my business co-owner, Johnny Kaye has produced a pill which according to him “will lower her inhibitory functions by mimicking the gamma-aminobutyric acids transfers by the neurotransmitter.””

Or atleast that’s what I think he said...

Betty furrowed her brow “Amino-? What the fuck does that mean?” what the fuck does that even do?”

“It gets her drunk, really drunk quickly and without having to get her drink two dozen drinks.” Steve replied “will have to slip it into her drink and probably have to lock Acey in the basement but otherwise little twerp should embarrass herself all on her own so all you will have to do is sit back and watch.”

Although an suggestion here or there might make things more entraining

Betty grinned seemlying imagining a drunk brandy making an ass out of herself “You will have to lock ace in, I don’t want to lose my job over this.” she replied before going to deal with some other customers. “What do you want?”

Could also distract him with the generator... hmm that’s not an bad idea

Having finished his free coffee Steve left the diner and made his way over to sherbet and Wyatt’s house which if Steve recalled correctly from last night had also stated was also an gun shop. Whilst the level action rifle was great for long ranges Steve notably lacked any weaponry for mid to close range combat.

should have never traded away that disciples gun...

Heading inside the building Steve noticed a selection of weapons on display which notable included what appeared to be several handcrafted swords of all things. All the swords where of high quality and looked like you do serious damage with one them, assuming you weren't shot getting close enough to use one.

“Hello Waylon.” Steve said as he noticed Waylon walk over to him. “I’m looking to purchase a submachine gun or compact assault rifle for mid-close range engagements do you have models you would recommend?” Steve asked

let's see what he would suggest

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How long will it take for skylar to notice I edited this in?

Mary Hawthorne - Museum of Witchcraft basement

In response to her call out to Shelby, he heard some rapid movement, as if she intended to try to flee, but after a moment Shelby stepped out into view, flipping her hair over her shoulders and trying to put a brave face fowards....though the fear, and something else, in her eyes, told the tale.

“That was… interesting ,” Shelby said, her voice was still riddled with nervousness, she placed her hands in her hips and tried to keep her cocky facade, “So...you mind telling what the fuck just happened here?”

"Don't play the innocent with me...", Mary said with a predatory smile as she held up the jar for Shelby to see, "...You know what you saw. The questions you should be asking are why I did it, and by what means did I achieve it."

"So tell me, was it everything you thought it would be?", Mary chuckled and continued, "Somehow I doubt it. No one who plays this game for Fame and glory will last for very long....certainly not the six hundered years I have been walking this Earth. In my world, power comes from knowledge, and bargains in which unspeakable acts...like what you watched him do to me...and even immortal souls are used as currency."

Mary picked up her things and stuffed them into her bag, then walked around the astonished Shelby and made for the cellar door without undue haste. She paused at the foot of the stairs and looked back at Shelby.

"I'm going home and taking a good hot bath", Mary announced, "I'm absolutely filthy." She then pointed at the ceiling and continued. "feel free to stop by once my houseguest leaves....poor lad has no idea what I am and I intend to keep it that way. I won't be coming back here again, so feel free to take what you want. Whatever you do, though...don't go upstairs, a Deathclaw has it's nest up there." she then climbed up and opened the door, moonlight flooding down from the open doorway, Mary's head silhouetted in the frame.

"One last thing", Mary whispered, though Shelby could hear it clearly, "I'm going to trust you with my little secret...consider it a test of character." Mary then placed the key to the cellar on the top step and closed the cellar door behind her.

Mary's Bathroom - Dawn

Mary sat in the tub, sipping bourbon from a waterglass and glowering at the mason jar full of ashes sitting on the stool by the window. First thing she'd done when she got home was brush her teeth with bourbon, which led to drinking some....it had been a long night. She sat, and drank, and fumed quietly as she reflected on the night's events. She'd done things that were arguably far more perverse than what the cultist...she had never even bothered to learn his name...had bargained out of her for what he knew, but submitting to the indignites he had heaped on her were still irksome..espcicially because others had witnessed most, if not all of it. The Museum was useless to her now, that was clear, she now had to find a new place to conduct business that she could not safely do in town. But the real thing on her mind was Shelby. Letting her live after what she had seen was a considerable risk, but Mary felt it was a risk worth taking. Her instincts told her that the young woman might have a talent for her craft, and it would be nice to have an apprentice again. Not to mention those fools at the Quarry, and what they planned to do. She had some research to do, and she would need help with it....and Shelby could at least read, which was good for this new Dark Age she had found herself in. She had too much potential to kill out of hand...if she talked they wouldn't believe her anyway. At least not quickly enough for her to evade capture easily enough.

Faintly, she heard the noise of an aircraft through the open window, steadily getting louder. Eventually, it came over the town, the noise rising to a roar which persisted for several minutes before beginning to slowly fade away. While this was happening, Mary heard a commotion in the hallway as Rick stormed out of his room and ran downstairs, the from door slamming shut a few seconds later. The flying machine seemed to upset him for some reason, and caused her to think about some of the things he had said at lunch....he had obviously been hiding something from her. The only people she knew of with aircraft in the Commonwealth were the Minutemen and the Brotherhood, both of whom fancied themselves the authorities here...was he a fugitive, perhaps? Might be useful to know.

"Oh, probably, I'm gonna power through the day as best I can without going to bed too early," Frieda replied, silent for a moment before she began to blush, "Oh, y-you meant...aha," she chuckled nervously. "S-sure, that'd be okay. Er, I mean, great. I mean, fun! Fun and great."

Waylon smiled, “Great, be nice to dine with someone and have a good conversation.”

Frieda cleared her throat. "Listen, my regular gig is clinic guard, so I should try to find some coffee and get to that. I'll track down Barney and make him take his turn at this watch post, so you can get back to your weapons shop. But, uhhh, I'll meet you there later today?" She reached out and gently squeezed his arm. His responsive smile lingered on her mind as she hustled back down the street, nervously lighting up one of her last cigarettes.

“You bet, hopefully the clinic won’t be too busy so you have a good day, I’ll see ya tonight then,” he watched as she walked back into town until her tall, tone figure disappeared. He kicked back on the roof of the car, yawned as he waited for Barney to show up.

Barney showed up, grumpy as usual and holding his coffee mug, “I was sent by Miss Hotshot to take over.”

Waylon hopped down, “Don’t be so grumpy old man; chances are you’ll have an easy day, just don’t fall asleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, go on, get outta here before I change my mind.”

Waylon slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked back to town, his knees ached from sitting on the car all night, but it had been worth it. Under Calypso, he never got the chance to court someone; he would be assigned a woman, or told to choose one. He was glad that he and Shelby had escaped from the sadistic bitch. Life was brightening up for once, and with new opportunities. He walked past the diner where Steve sat, as usual, and he saw Betty’s attitude through the window. He skipped a cup of coffee; he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her shit that early. He unlocked the front door of S&W and walked in, putting his rifle in his office before heading up the stairs to check on the girls.

Waylon turned the doorknob, it had been left unlocked, he walked in, “Good morn…OH…sorry.” He saw Eliza standing nude in front of the window, but no Shelby. He furrowed his brow glancing towards the bathroom, but the light was off, I’m surprised she’s not here. Waylon cleared his throat while trying not to look at Eliza, “Sorry, I usually have to wake Shelby up, but I’m really surprised to see you walking. That stimpack Shelby gave you yesterday afternoon must’ve done the trick. Help yourself to whatever you need; if you’re hungry I can whip us all up some breakfast.”

The door chime echoed up the stairs, Waylon held up his finger, “Let me go see who walked in real quick, you can come downstairs or I’ll come back up as soon as I check.” He walked down the stairs and out into the store.

“Hello Waylon.” Steve said as he noticed Waylon walk over to him. “I’m looking to purchase a submachine gun or compact assault rifle for mid-close range engagements do you have models you would recommend?”

“Hey Steve, yeah sure,” Waylon looked at the guns on the wall display, he pointed at a refinished SKS with a bladed bayonet, “I like the SKS rifles myself for mid-range, and the bayonet is a nice touch too and umm...” He narrowed his eyes as he looked, “I have this AR pistol, kinda cumbersome to carry, but you 30 round mags at your disposal. I have one in 9mm and 5.56mm. This Cobray M11/9 has had all the internal parts polished and functions great, sorta uncommon. But the 32 round mag doesn’t like being packed full, but with around 25 rounds it works great. I am working on an old grease gun, but they’re hard to find, so I have to either search other guns for parts or make my own, either way, it won’t be ready for a while.”

Waylon put his elbows on the glass display case and nodded down, “But you can never go wrong with a Colt 1911, I heard they used to say ABC, Always buy Colt,” he laughed a little, “The .45 round has some pop to it, it’ll take out a lot more than you’d think.”

Ace let out a chuckle as he got up, picked the panties up and handed them to Brandy, “You know no reason to blush, nothing I haven’t seen before…” He went over to the dresser and handed her what she asked. She stood up and pulled Ace to her, burying her face into his chest as she hugged him. Brandy looked up at him; standing on her tippy toes she gave him a little kiss. “I’d go out the cellar door if I were you. Steve is upstairs and so are other folk, plus Betty,” Ace said after he kissed her. He started to look around the room, pulling a toolbox from under the bed. He placed it on the bed and opened it, looked inside, and closed it up. He kissed Brandy again and headed for the cellar door.

Brandy just stared at Ace, her mouth hung open slightly, “Why? You’re not going to walk me out?”

Ace stopped and turned, “Oh sorry, I know I just got here but we got a new generator and I want to make sure it’s ready to run as soon as possible...oh before I forget, yes there was vertibird. No, Brotherhood is not invading us. Yes, there are two scribes up on the apartment building, and No it won’t cost anyone anything.”

Brandy furrowed her brow and shook her, “What?” she raised her arms and let them flop down to her sides as the cellar door slammed shut, “What are you talking about Ace?” She mumbled to herself confused with the rush of information, “You do know that I can help with that type of stuff.” She plopped down on the bed and folded her arms. She looked at the nightstand reaching over to pick up the picture frame. It was his ex-wife, she put it in the stands drawer before jumping up, “FINE,” she hissed. Can’t even walk your girlfriend out, AND THEN tell me go leave through the cellar??? He must be embarrassed of me. She sighed and looked up at the hatch, she pressed her lips together and clenched her fists before she stomped towards the ladder.

She carefully opened it up, she could see Betty moving around preparing coffee, she climbed up and let the hatch door slam shut. She glared at Betty who returned just as evil of glare. “Looks like someone had a fun night.” Steve chuckled.

“CAN IT STEVE,” she walked towards the door, purposely bumping into Betty making her spill some coffee down the front of her. She stopped before she walked out and looked at Steve, “I did have a good night. But my morning could’ve been better, but I saw you two.” She shot one more dirty look at Betty and Steve before she left. She went inside her house and up the stairs to clean up and get ready for the day. She grabbed some khaki cargo pants and tight red t-shirt, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and slipped on her tan work boots. She snatched a brochure she had found when she returned to town, it was about The Witchcraft Museum, it was just outside of town and looked to be in nice shape. Today was the day she would go explore it. Pulling out the gun case from under her bed she pulled out her great grandfather’s 12 gauge shotgun, pushing 5 shells into the mag-tube. She attached the sling and slung it over her shoulder and went to leave but stopped by the kitchen entrance. She grinned and sat the shotgun down. She grabbed a bottle of Wonder glue and some flower. She dug out a plastic baggie and dumped some flour in it along with a little water to make a paste. Then she dumped the Wonder glue in and sealed the baggie, massaging it to mix the glue in with the paste. A laughed slipped out as she went and picked up her shotgun before heading back to the diner. Steve had left, and Betty put her hand on her hip, “What do you want?”

Brandy smiled, “Nothing, I thought I might sit here until Ace comes back.” Betty rolled her eyes and turned to the sink to finish washing the mugs. Brandy stood up, opening up the baggie and threw it hitting Betty in the back of head. “That’s for being a rude jerk this morning when you came down and got stuff from the storeroom.”

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!!!” screamed Betty as she put her hand up to fling off the glops of paste. Her hand stuck to her hair, she leaned over the sink and tried to get the paste out, but to no avail.

“Have a nice day Betty,” Brandy chirped as she quickly left with Betty’s hands stuck in her hair. She started on her way to the museum and hummed with a smug grin on her face. Did I use too much glue? It was the entire bottle, NAH.

FRIEDA RICHTER - Brandy's house -- morning

"Come on, come on..." she muttered to herself, trying to rifle through the drawers as quietly as possible. She flinched every time something clanked or clattered and hoped it was the effects of the Study Buddy causing her to think the sounds were much louder than they really were.

The last thing she wanted to do was repay Brandy for all of her kindness by waking her up.

Frieda pushed in the drawer she had been searching and sighed, hearing it make a little squeak as she did so. Her search had been unsuccessful. Wasn't Brandy carrying literal cartons of cigarettes? Didn't she say --

Frieda straightened at her realization. Brandy had left the cigarettes at the diner, as barter. "Fuck!" she swore, immediately covering her mouth with both hands. She paused, listening, certain she heard another squeak and some movement.

Frieda blinked. She tip-toed to the kitchen door and leaned towards the stairs, straining her ears, but her ears kept telling her the sounds came from elsewhere, past the kitchen. She slowly crept towards the cellar door then froze. There was definitely some shuffling and squeaking coming from beyond the door.

Rats! Or, mutated rats! Or...roaches? Do roaches squeak? Frieda stared at the bottom of the door, aware of the floor's clean surface but worn and distressed linoleum. She took a breath, reassured her pistol was on her belt, then flung the door open and clattered down the stairs to the floor, below.

Sunlight lit the room brightly, reflecting easily off the unpainted concrete walls, refracting off the dimples and flaws of the ancient cement. Her head whipped back and forth, preparing herself to encounter some kind of mutated nasty that had dug its way into the house, but instead, beginning to cluster at her feet, were fluffy little puff balls, peeping and chirping away.

"Oh god, ohhhhhh god," Frieda moaned, raising her hands, thrown completely off guard by the fact that her intruder was really a bunch of baby chickens. She'd been drafted towards piloting decades ago and never had to even think about 'Cultivation.' She stood on the spot, completely frozen.

The chickens continued to bob and chirp.

Richter! You've single-handedly shot and killed raiders, Yao Guai, and more -- and these little chicks got you petrified? Brandy's chicks?

She looked down at her feet and noticed several were pecking at the ground, almost expectantly.

"Awww, you're just hungry?" she cooed, her tone and attitude fully changed. "I think I ate some of your mom, yesterday. Sorry about that. She was goo-- you know what, never mind." Frieda took large, very tender strides across the room towards a shelf and started looking for the feed. Sure enough, a sack of grain sat open, plain as day. Frieda took a large handful in each hand, turned, and started sprinkling the grain onto the floor. The chicks frenzied, peeping their approval and scattering all over, pecking and eating. Frieda laughed, in spite of herself. The peeping was eventually replaced by the din of tiny beaks pecking along the floor. One of the chicks hopped and flapped towards her, causing Frieda to startle and stumble backwards, knocking her backside into the shelf. It rattled and dislodged a test tube that rolled onto the floor.

"Oh shit!" Instinctually she bent and reached for the tube, though as she did so, one of the chicks flicked to peck the floor and pecked into her hand, instead, drawing blood. Frieda hissed in pain, snatched the tube, and went to replace it when she stopped, cold.

The label on the tube most clearly had the Enclave E-and-stars marking on it, a title "x1614LGO - Accelerated Growth," and other text that had been rubbed off, faded off, or perhaps, deliberately modified to be illegible. Frieda turned the tube in her hand, her eyes wide. What could this mean? How would Brandy have Enclave technology? Her eyes widened further. Perhaps Brandy is an Enclave defector, as well!

That's stupid, she argued within herself. Her whole family history is on display in that front room.

Of course it is. If you had enough smarts, you'd have made up a wasteland family, too, dumbass.

Frieda reached up with her free hand and ran it through her hair. She looked from the tube, to the grain feed, to the little chickens. Was Brandy using it on her chickens? That would mean...

Frieda gagged, thinking about the chicken she had eaten the night before, and that it had somehow been grown using an artificial serum. Years of GMO practices within the Enclave bunkers themselves had no meaning while she imagined that Brandy had fed her some kind of 'frankenfood.' Irradiated, wasteland frankenfood.

She forced herself to take some deep breaths. Frieda looked down at the chicks, reminding herself that mere minutes prior she had thought of them as adorable little puff balls. Reminding herself that they were yet still, adorable little puff balls. That just because she found proprietary Enclave technology in Brandy's basement didn't mean she had been using it.

There was only one person with the scientific mind she trusted enough to take the serum and test it, and that was Arthur. Frieda searched herself only to discover that, of course, between her sweatshirt and her khakis, she didn't exactly have a discreet place to hide it. Besides, if Brandy were to return and find the serum missing...

Frieda put the serum back onto the shelf, cursing herself for somehow not noticing where it had been stored before she knocked it off. She hoped Brandy wasn't the type to think it weird if something wasn't in the same exact spot she'd left it. She took another handful of grain and spread it onto the floor, much to the celebratory peeping of the chickens, below. Frieda crept to the stairs and paused as the sound of a door slamming was cause for alarm. She perched onto the steps, telling herself she would just tell Brandy she heard the peeping and came down to feed the chickens -- because, after all, that part was true -- but she heard nothing more than the sound of someone going up the stairs, some quiet, then the return back down the stairs and out the door.

Frieda took a breath. She clapped both hands on her knees. She got lucky. "Well, my little friends, I gotta go for a bit, but I'll be back." She crossed the room, picked up the serum, then popped out the cellar door and closed it firmly behind her, glanced around the kitchen, and exit the front door and hurried back towards the clinic.

How did she not notice how many cracks and grooves there were in the road, before? So many pebbles, too...

She hesitated at the door, before she entered and approached the doctor. "Uh, hey, Arthur. Something...has come up. I need to show you something. I'll just take a second." Frieda motioned for them to go upstairs. She made her way back to Arthur's small apartment and deliberately turned her back to the window.

"Brandy had this in her possession." She procured the vial from her pocket and held it out to the doctor. "Enclave branding. I don't know what it does, but you're the only person I know who would be able to figure it out." Frieda swallowed, then added. "I kind of...found it by accident, then took it without asking. If...you catch my meaning..."

She cleared her throat. "She's keeping baby chickens in the basement. I was looking for their food when I found, well," Frieda gestured at the vial. "What do you think it is? Why would she have it?"

Gorge the mutant - Outside of Salem - Morning

It was dark out when he woke up and was able to get out from under the building. Half of the caravan was missing, with the other half torn apart and riffled through. He checked his gear and himself for injuries before he began the slow process of tracking. At least he had a bit of luck they were dragging something big and bloody, more than likely the Brahmin that was carrying their things. The super mutants were holed up in some old building, the place didn’t have the best security and Gorge was inside their perimeter before he knew where he was.

He was quiet at first, these mutants here looked stronger but were definitely less intelligent than others. Still, they had hounds rather than centaurs so that was new. He knew it was going to be hell when the shooting starts, and they have to run, hopefully they can’t track to well though. He continued through their camp cautiously, he had already killed two of them breaking their necks with a swift punch and catching their bodies before they hit the ground to hard.

The building had little for defenses other than the normal barbwire and spikes pointed around with fires going here and there. The smell was something one would have to warm up to a mix of rotting and mixed meats of all kinds. Crammed into baskets and nets.

The front door did creek a little as he opened it and moved in, being as careful as he could. Through his extensive training and the small bits of cloth patched in between the armor plates to act as buffers the large mutant crept through the building.

He could hear movement all around him but the one thing he was zoning in on was someone moaning in a nearby room. It sounded as if the person was in pain. He kept moving closer and closer keeping aware of his surroundings until he could see through the missing glass in the door. It was Harold, he was alive.

Gorge was quick to open the door and get to his friend, “Gorge is that you?” he tried to prop himself up against the wall only to falter. The ghoul was missing his left arm and right leg, his usual western style clothes were ripped and torn, and he had a stomach wound. All seemed to be patched up if not poorly. The man was still sitting in a pool of his own blood.

“Where are the others?” the Armored mutant asked, the ghoul simply shook his head, “their gone” a shaky sigh escaped him, “either dead or taken somewhere else with the majority of the muties” he coughed and looked up at his friend, “I fear this will be the end of me.”

“Come friend, I’ll get you out of here.” Gorge was careful to pick up his friend who grimaced with pain as he was picked up, “there was a settlement near here, Salem right? Maybe there is a doctor there” Harold smiled, “that hope of yours is going to get both of us killed.”

The moment was ruined with a yell from outside, “Hey! Intruder! Some ones here our guards are dead” Gorge could only shrug as he made sure his Gatling laser was secure on its strap around his shoulder, “once we get out your gun and a few other things are in that bag at my waist. Get them out and ready when we get clear.” Harold could only nod as they burst through the thin door toward the main door.

His shoulder went through first, the main door crumpling as the armor moved through it. The mutant on the other side caught unaware and sent to the ground temporarily dazed. The large armored figure kept moving, running quickly away from the building with a prisoner in hand. With the sky lighting up with a dull blue while the sun began to rise over the sea.

Gorge had been running for some time, stopping now and then to count their pursuers or check on Harold’s injuries. Six super mutants and two hounds were tracking them through the common wealth. Gorge was careful to keep his heading the same setting traps or moving things to slow down the super mutants.

“Harold were getting close” the mutant spoke, breathing heavily as he kept moving. “Get a frag mine ready” the ghoul reached into the small canvas bag and pulled out the frag mine, “last one.” Gorge sighed, “and tear off some of your bloody shirt.” The ghoul hesitated but then began to tear off a piece of his shirt, “Kind of hard to do with one hand. Alright that’s done, now what?”

Gorge stopped in the middle of a small opening and crouched down next to an old car. He was careful to place the mine next to the engine and tuck the shirt up next to it. He armed the mine and continued to run, hearing the beep from the mine three times before going silent. Armed, was all he thought as he continued to move.

They were close now, they had to be. He could see structures that looked better kept than others in the distance. A sound behind him cleared his thoughts, two explosions in quick succession. The mine had been detonated which for him meant that they only had a lead on them of a couple minutes. He only hoped that killed the hounds or at the very least slowed them down.

He could see what looked like a partial wall and some guard towers, he couldn’t tell if they were manned and only hoped they weren’t openly hostile. Still, the large armored man ran as quickly as he could to both get away from the mutants and hopefully save his friend. He didn’t know if it was tunnel vision or that there simply wasn’t a guard, but he could hear people now but still couldn’t see them.

He did however see the turret in front of him the beeped and turned towards him but didn’t fire. Gorge set Harold down in a position where he would be covered and gave him his worn 10 mm pistol, “stay here, give me 10 seconds and pop off a few rounds in the air to draw those mutants in. I'm going to flank them” he could hear the mutants running, their voices of rage getting closer. No hounds, at least one good thing. “It’s not like I'm going anywhere” Harold smirked.

Gorge stood made sure his weapon was loaded and ready yelling out one thing before running off again, “MEDIC!” he paused for a moment to breath, “I need a medic over here!” truthfully he had no idea if he just sentenced himself and his friend to a quicker death. But they haven’t been shot at yet, so that’s a good thing.

He ran, he ran as quickly as he could directly to the north away from Harold, the mutants, and the town. With renewed vigor and anger he moved with purpose suddenly cutting to the left dipping around dead trees, broken down rusty cars, small hills and banks of dirt, and random debris strewn across the land. He could hear Harold fire six rounds from his gun and moved into a position where he could fire into the flank of the mutants.

Gorge could count five of them now, a few clearly injured. He waited patiently for them to get out into the open as they charged forward towards where Harold was. They took cover behind some old fencing and some cars roughly 50 yards from town. Gorge could see his opportunity, he brought up his Gatling laser and began to fire quickly killing two and grabbing the attention of the others.

Steve cooper- Shopping – Moring

“Hey Steve, yeah sure,” Waylon looked at the guns on the wall display, he pointed at a refinished rifle, an SKS if Steve recalled correctly and it came with an pointy bladed bayonet attachment., “I like the SKS rifles myself for mid-range, and the bayonet is a nice touch too and umm...”

“Nice rifle but I already have my level action, looking for something abit more compact for those close encounters.”

He narrowed his eyes as he looked and pointed at what appeared to be a Mini assault rifle “I have this AR pistol, kinda cumbersome to carry, but you 30 round mags at your disposal. I have one in 9mm and 5.56mm.”

I get the feeling that will break alot.

“Interesting got anything else?”

That was when Waylon pointed to a small boxed shaped weapon with a long stick like magazine sticking out of the handle “This Cobray M11/9 has had all the internal parts polished and functions great, sorta uncommon. But the 32 round mags don’t like being packed full, but with around 25 rounds it works great.

I like the look of you... bet you could stick to mags together for a quick reload... is that a Threaded barrel too? Wonder if he has an silencer for it?

“I am working on an old grease gun, but they’re hard to find, so I have to either search other guns for parts or make my own, either way, it won’t be ready for a while.”

“Well if you’re looking for any notable models or gun types in general tell me and I’ll keep an eye out for them, junkies are always trading stuff for their next fix.” Steve replied

And then I can trade them for ammo

Waylon put his elbows on the glass display case and nodded down, “But you can never go wrong with a Colt 1911, I heard they used to say ABC, Always buy Colt,” he laughed a little, “The .45 round has some pop to it, it’ll take out a lot more than you’d think.”

“Yeah I’ve used one before, very good gun but then again any weapon that was used by the USA military for what was it? 100 years? has to be a bloody good gun but I already have a hand cannon.” Steve chuckled “I am however interested in that Cobray M11/9.”

“I’ll buy it along with 200 round of ammo and a couple of spare mags if you them it.” Steve stated “oh and by any chance do you have a silencer for it? I imagine it will be pretty deadly with one.”

And give me something to grip onto.

Ace Makovich - Salem - Morning

Ace watched as Brandy made her way up the ladder. Ace shook his head, he had only mentioned going out the side door for her own benefit. He shrugged and made his way out the cellar door, this was something he would deal with later. As he walked out he saw Brandy making her way to her place, part of him wanted to go after her, but when he looked up and saw the generator, he figured he better go work on that.

As he headed up the old apartment he looked up at the ceiling. The trusses and beams he installed were holding. The ceiling and roof would need to hold out, but with this support structure he set up leading from the roof to the basement, should hold out. He kept going up and made his way to the generator. As he looked at it he noticed that it was few inches off from where it was needed.

As he pondered on what he should do, after all the generator was extremely heavy, he saw Rook sitting doodling on the ground. He looked back at the generator and then over to Rook. He smiled as the thought of using his brute strength, came to mind. Sure it might be heavy for Rook, but it was either that or risk the roof collapsing under the uneven weight distribution.

Ace quickly ran down the stairs and headed over to where Rook was sitting. As Rook drew on the ground Ace slowly approached him, he didn’t want to startle the green giant. He stood in front of rook, “Hey there Rook…I see you’re drawing on the ground…Hey listen, I need your help for a bit. We placed a generator on the roof of that apartment building, and it’s slightly off and need someone strong, like you to move it. What do you say?”

As he stood there in front of Rook, sudden gunshots could be heard in the distance. Ace looked towards the direction of the gunfire. “What the hell was that?” Ace said t as he looked back at Rook. Ace’s hand fell down to his gun; he could hear some bellowing screams. It was deep and angry, sounded eerily familiar to certain green skinned mutants. “Shit…” Ace muttered.

Dr. Arthur West - Salem Clinic
“Okay…did she say they dropped off a generator? Why would they… so I take it that’s why I saw some scribes up on that roof. Are they setting up a power grid for the town?” Rick said out loud as he watched Frieda leave and then turned to the doctor. “Is it me or does she seem a little off to you?”

Arthur gave a small shrug,

"Hard to say. She's...different, to be sure. She grew up in a highly disciplined, structured, military society after all. Her whole life was probably regimented from dawn to dusk. I imagine anyone trying to transition out of that life would be...off to say the least."

A brief moment of reflection crossed Arthur's mind then, as he reflected that what he'd just said could easily be applied to The Institute as well, just with a few changes to verbiage.

"As for The Brotherhood," He continued, "I'm worried about the town reaching out to them for help. I know little about The Brotherhood's operations, but from what I heard from the settlements I talked to: The Brotherhood used to go around asking for food and supplies in exchange for support. In effect, they attempted to align with towns and get a tribute system working. I can't imagine they would try that here, but its not impossible I suppose..."

Arthur turned to Ace, his hand rubbed his chin in thought,

"It does give me an idea however, I wonder if we might be able to send a similar request to The Directorate for assistance here. Word it in such a way that they might find interest in sending some aid. Some medical supplies and equipment for the clinic would do wonders here and if we could get a Courser requisitioned...well, the town wouldn't have to worry about attacks from raiders anymore. That's for sure. Its a long shot, I know, and we'd have to be extremely discrete about it to the townsfolk. Perhaps we should give it some thought at least..."

---------------

Edit: Forgot to include the response to Frieda
Sometime later

Arthur was sitting up in his small residence above the clinic when a knock came at the door. It was Frieda,

"Uh, hey, Arthur. Something...has come up. I need to show you something. I'll just take a second. Brandy had this in her possession." She procured the vial from her pocket and held it out to the doctor. Enclave branding. I don't know what it does, but you're the only person I know who would be able to figure it out." Frieda swallowed, then added. "I kind of...found it by accident, then took it without asking. If...you catch my meaning..."

"Enclave branding? Let me see..." Arthur replied as he adjusted his glasses and carefully took the small vial from Frieda's hand, examining it closely.

Frieda cleared her throat. "She's keeping baby chickens in the basement. I was looking for their food when I found, well," Frieda gestured at the vial. "What do you think it is? Why would she have it?"

Arthur turned the vial over in his hand, "Hmmm...accelerated growth...well I haven't the fainest idea about The Enclave's cataloging system or what it's designation could mean, I'd say its clearly some sort of growth hormone. I can't know for sure its composition unless I run a few tests on it of course. If it is a hormone supplement of some type its not particularly concerning by itself: not dangerous I mean. But...the more intriguing question is how she acquired it in the first place..."

He paused for a few moments and looked back up at Frieda, "I don't suppose its possible Brandy is ex-Enclave is it? Barring that I suppose we can only speculate. You mention she was keeping baby chickens as well...did they look odd in any way?"

Rook had heard Ace walking his way. A fast glance told him who it was. Was he here to finally offer to do some real labor to help out the town, or was he going to see why Rook wasn't working at the point. It didn't take long for the man to finally reach Rook, who looked up at him, listening to his words.

“Hey there Rook…I see you’re drawing on the ground…Hey listen, I need your help for a bit. We placed a generator on the roof of that apartment building, and it’s slightly off and need someone strong, like you to move it. What do you say?”

So that is what they dropped off. Made sense. "Rook will help with this. He had no problem moving gen-"

His words were cut off as the gunshots reached his ears as well. Ace had keen enough senses to hear it too. Rook saw his hand drop down to his weapon, and Rook reached over, picking up his own weapon. The cries and bellows sounded like a Super Mutant as well... But it was odd. It was not like what he had honestly expected.

"Smart Mutant... No dumb-dumbs trailing him... Wait... There they are." Rook seemed to suddenly shape up. His eyes narrowed, and there was the briefest moment on his face of anger. "Not another one. Not today."

He would look to Ace. "Get everyone into town, defensive spots. Rook will go and deal with this. Trail if you want, but protect town first. Rook will be fine."

He didn't wait for an answer, he didn't wait for Ace to even really process it. His mutant body did possess a lot of additional strength and power that made his movements seem well... Super human. With a hard press off, Rook took off like a bullet. In some ways he might as well of been. Armored rather lightly, he wasn't as encumbered or hampered as he might have been otherwise. On top of that, the FEV had taken away nearly all the normal human level restrictions, part of what made Super Mutants terrifying was there speed.

Something of Rook's size should not be able to move at nearly 30 miles per hour. The sound of the laser fire as well spurred him on, and if Gorge was watching, he would see something odd indeed. A lone Super Mutant would tear out of the town of Salem, wearing a chest plate of diamond plate steel, simple pants, boots made of old tires, and holding a long weapon, like something from a story book. Taller than the Mutant himself, with an axe style head and a spear point on it as well, a halberd if he knew what it was.

There was no fear, no hesitation, and Rook would move with the speed of a mutant possessed, heading towards the Mutants who were under fire. Assuming any of them were alive by the time he got there, he would use the landscape to his advantage, using a rock almost like a spring board as his feet touched it, landing with a hard thud near the remaining three and swinging his poleaxe in a broad stroke.

"For Salem!"

Sara Weaver
Sandy Coves Inn, Salem, Massachusetts - morning

Sara awoke yet again but this time it was from a terrible nightmare, she rolled over hoping that Celeste was still asleep to set her mind at ease but the impression left from her body had grown cold. Her nightmare left her paralyzed in fear and uncertainty, her body and mind to crippled to force themselves out of bed. She didn’t want to think about what she dreamt of. Her subconscious toyed with her most impactful fear, weakness. Even though she tried her best to move past it and brush it off as nothing more than a dream, she couldn’t. It felt all too real, to the point that her body aches as if it was mimicking the pain from her nightmare. Sara felt even worse because her first instinct was to seek comfort in Celeste, to her that was weakness, no one looked after her, and to her no one needed to.

After nearly an hour of lying in bed suffering from the torment of her subconscious. Sara finally peeled herself from her bed, the sheets well dampened by her sweat. Even now that she had worked up the strength to sit on the edge of the bed Sara still felt so vulnerable, as if everything she dreamt of actually happened, or was about to. She wanted to seek out Celeste, maybe she would be able to take her mind off of what happened? No! That’s not how these things work. She needed to stand on her own two feet and power through this bullshit on her own. After all she was a badass, people didn’t fuck with her. With just the use of the word fuck Sara’s mind was taken back to her nightmare, and her attempt at mentally pumping herself up was dismantled at its core.

Standing up from her bed Sara shambled towards the window, still open from the night before. She couldn’t explain how much she loved the smell of the ocean, and this morning seemed like a perfect time to just sit on the shore and take it all in but she didn’t want to go alone...not after what she had dreamt about, or at least not until she got past it. With the morning still being young Sara tried her best to maintain a normal routine, like she always did. Before anything else she started with her exercises. They weren’t anything too complicated just your regular calisthenics, push ups, crunches, squats, stretches, etc. It helped her clear her head and work up a healthy sweat.

After she was finished and her body genuinely ached she headed into the bathroom, filling the tub again to clean herself up. Once she was finished she began to feel a substantial improvement in her mood, although she still couldn’t shake the images from her sleep. Regardless she tried her best to act like nothing happened, she got dressed in some ratty jeans, a tank top, her flannel, and a pair of white socks that had started to turn grey from use. Unsure of where Celeste went and almost too afraid to go looking for her after what had happened, or more because of what Sara wanted to happen the night before. She chose to stay in her room, door open in the hopes that Celeste would come to her. So in the meantime Sara tinkered with her gear. Checking to make sure that it was all operational and accounted for. She marveled over her new sword, cleaning the blade with an oiled rag while she sipped water from her canteen.

All the while she was still trying to act like she wasn’t shaken by something as mundane as a nightmare, no matter how vivid and horrifying it may have been. Even though Sara said that she would be satisfied with finding out that Eliza died. It was in moments like these that she secretly aches for someone like her to stand by her. Maybe that’s why she let her feelings for Celeste spill out. She was more afraid of being alone, than she was of being rejected.

FRIEDA RICHTER - Clinic -- mid-morning

Arthur had paused for a few moments and looked back up at Frieda, "I don't suppose its possible Brandy is ex-Enclave is it? Barring that I suppose we can only speculate. You mention she was keeping baby chickens as well...did they look odd in any way?"

"That was one of my thoughts, too!" Frieda slammed her fist into her other palm. "It's not like we -- they just leave stuff like that lying around. At least, not usually..." She relaxed, slightly. "I considered that Brandy was cleverer than I, making up a family that no one has met, but it doesn't add up. She's too...soft."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "No, not like that, just like...the way she conducts herself. She wasn't raised in a incubator of regimented discipline. Plus, even Waylon admits that she's helpless with guns and such."

She took a deep breath, finally calm enough to think a little more clearly. She glanced around, finally remarking to herself how spotless the little apartment truly was. Not a speck of dust, anywhere. The doc was thorough. "My best guess, now, is that she didn't even realize it's got Enclave marking on it. She either found it, or someone sold it to her. I have no idea if she's actually used it. The chickens were...cute. Normal? Ugh," she groaned, feeling frustrated with so few facts and so much speculation, "maybe it was in her basement the whole time, and she's just left it there." She rubbed her head behind her ear. "I've been impulsive. I'm sorry."

Frieda reached over and closed Arthur's hand over the vial. "I'm going to leave that with you, for now, then I'll sneak it back into the house."

There was something of a shriek from towards the diner. Frieda turned and looked out the window, and saw some kind of hurried movement inside, but nothing distinctive.

"I should try and find out what the deal was with the Brotherhood literally flying into town. I'm going to go find A--"

She cut herself off at the sound of gunshots from the edge of town. Frieda pulled out her pistol from her belt. "Duty calls. I'll keep any undesirables from getting in. I do suggest you take some cover, just in case."

She dashed down the stairs, past Summer, and to the front door. Her eyes scanned around for any signs of movement or hostiles.

CELESTE BROWN - Sandy Coves Inn -- morning

Celeste had nodded off here and there for the next couple of hours. Twice she had to jump out of bed to vomit into her toilet. After the umpteenth time of waking up uncomfortable and in a sweat, she decided to try just staying up for a while. Or at least...at all. She pulled herself upright, waiting for several moments before attempting to turn and get up off the bed.

She rubbed her face with both hands before reaching towards the nightstand featuring her untouched glass of water, and scone. She broke off a small piece and put it into her mouth, chewing carefully, hoping beyond hope her stomach would accept such a paltry offering of food.

Celeste swallowed. She took a tiny sip of water. It seemed to stay down. She tiptoed her way to her bathroom and drew a bath of warm, though copper-coloured water. She washed her skin and hair, continuing to take small bites of the scone here and there, slowly feeling energized by the combination of bathing and eating.

She dressed into a pair of canvas pants and a pink, knit sweater, scrunched her curls in her hands, and stepped back out to the lobby. Archie was sorting...something, behind the counter.

"Manager Celeste! How wonderful it is to see you up and about."

"Any customers?" she asked, sounding bored.

"Ah, indeed not, at least, not yet. You look a little pale, is everything all right?"

"Mostly." Celeste cleared her throat and looked around. "I think I might get some fresh air, maybe see what Adam is up to, today."

"All right," the robot replied. "I shall tend to matters here while you are absent, hm?"

"Thanks," she replied, offering the biggest, most genuine smile she could manage. Celeste stepped out into the bright, but cool morning. She no longer had a headache, thanks to the painkillers, but her body did not seem ready to take on the day. She wandered her way through town to Adam's place, remarking how different the town looked in the full daylight. She drew up to the door and knocked.

"Good morning! It's me, Celeste," she chimed as cheerfully as she could, though she still felt a little rough. Nothing replied but the sound of some flotsam hitting the shore. She knocked again. "Adam! I was just wondering if you would like to have dinner at my place tonight. I mean, I'll have a hard time competing with that wonderful steak from last night, but we could maybe...sit by the water, for a little bit?"

She toed the ground while she waited. Still, no response. Celeste boldly took the doorknob in her hand and attempted to open the door, but it was locked. She took a few steps backwards and looked around, finally noticing that his brahmin wasn't in her pen, either.

"Did he just...leave town?" she wondered aloud. "He wouldn't have done that, not after a night like we had. Would he?" Celeste pulled a piece of lint off her sweater and flicked it to the ground. "He's a trader. Like a treasure hunter. He probably just went out to look for some more wares." Feeling reassured, she started to wander back. The smell of coffee wafted into her nostrils. She saw Steve some ways down the road, looking like he'd left the diner.

Coffee. Despite her condition, she felt compelled to seek some out. Archie hadn't made any, or she would have just had some back at the inn.

Just as she got to the doorway, there was a shriek from inside. Brandy hustled past her, totally unaware of her presence. "What the...?" Celeste entered the diner to see a young woman, her hand on the side of her head, frantically working to pull it off.

"Ah, oh! You're not Ace," Celeste exclaimed, drawing up to the counter of the bar.

The young woman jumped, as though startled, then continued to try and work her hand free from her hair. It seemed to have been glued into it. "What was your first clue?" the woman replied with a snap, returning her attention to her awkward position of her hand stuck in her hair.

"Are you okay?" Celeste pressed on. "Why did you glue your hand to your hair?"

"For heaven's sake -- I didn't glue my hand to my hair, that bitch Brandy pranked me. Came out of nowhere and splat, just right in my hair, and before I could stop myself, I touched it, and..." The woman yanked her hand again, yelping as she painfully pulled some strands out by the roots.

"Okay, okay, take it easy," Celeste cooed, coming around the bar. "Pulling it isn't gonna make it better. You're gonna need some kinda paint thinner or somethin'. I'm sure I have some in the inn basement. Why don't you come with me and we'll fix you right up?"

"I can't leave the diner," the girl replied miserably. "I'm the only one here."

"I thought Ace was the only one here?" Celeste replied.

"He was, until yesterday. I'm Betty."

"Nice to meet you, Be--"

"Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Ah -- oh -- right. Of course."

"Actually, there's some tools in the basement, down that cellar door," Betty pointed with her free hand. "Maybe you'll find something down there, and I won't have to wait so long for you and your short legs to get back here."

"Are you sure that's okay?" Celeste asked, glancing at the faded, but recently polished metal sign that said EMPLOYEES ONLY.

"Ugh," Betty groaned. "Didn't I just say, I'm the only one here? That makes me the boss. Go check it out, already."

"Sure thing," Celeste answered, lifting the door to the basement and making her way down. She found a closet lined with shelves and several dusty pieces of hardware. She tapped her chin, reading the labels slowly, finally deciding on an aluminum canister labelled 'TERRIFIC TURPENTINE!' "This should help!" she exclaimed with glee, snatching it off the shelf and barrelling back up into the diner proper.

"Lean over the sink over there and I'll pour some of this in," Celeste instructed.

"You gonna be able to reach, short stuff?"

"Oh, I'll be fine. I'll just use a chair," Celeste replied, completely nonplussed. Betty leaned over the sink, nearly quivering in her anxiety. Celeste slowly poured a stream of the turpentine into the matted mess of glue and hair, but most of it trickled down Betty's hand, wrist, and arm, into the sink.

"It's not working," Betty growled in a huff.

"Need some way to soak it," Celeste agreed. She looked around and saw a dishrag lying on the counter. "Aha!" She grabbed the cloth and soaked it with the turpentine, then placed it onto the glue.

"Is this done yet? I'm starting to get really cramped, and my hand is already numb."

"I don't know how long it will take," Celeste answered, kneeling on the stool and holding the rag onto Betty's hair. "Sorry it smells so bad. I've got soap and hot water at the inn, you could take a bath after, if you wanted. Ace can take over, couldn't he?"

Betty grumbled some response that Celeste couldn't understand. Suddenly, she began to exclaim. "It...it's working! It's really working! I can wiggle my fingers!"

"Good!" Celeste cooed, clapping her hands together. "I'm Celeste, by the way. Do...you mind if I just grab a cup of coffee?"

"Do whatever you want," Betty replied, too preoccupied by being able to loosen her fingers from her own hair.

Celeste poured herself a mug of coffee and sat at the counter, watching Betty free herself. "So! How's your morning been, otherwise?"

Lorelei Jones - Lexington

“…Being nostalgic for a world that's gone and living in a world that's ashes and rubble is what is. We build a new world over the devastation of the old."

Deciding he'd had enough downer talk, he went back around the counter and picked up the coffee cup. “Ma'am, you look like you need a pick me up. $5 and a hot cup of coffee is yours. Adam turned to the metal coffee maker and hit the pour switch and, much to his surprise, liquid came out. Instead of hot coffee, a cool mixture of disgusting coffee sludge and rust came out. Adam tried to keep a straight face until he took it to the counter. "Here you are, our special blend. A house secret and it's all yours for only $5. I'd call that a steal!" His lips curled inward until he finally snorted and broke out into laughter.

Lorelei spun around on her bar stool. She took the coffee mug with phony glee and looked down at the disgusting contents. “My apologies sir, I am but a poor girl. I don’t even have a penny to my name.” She set down the mug and bit her lip. “Lorelei Jones, -Grave Robber-. I like it.” She shrugged and wiped a bit of dust off the counter.

At that, she knocked the coffee mug off the counter, spilling its contents onto the rubble-encrusted floor and breaking the ceramic. “I can’t help but be sentimental as I pick apart all these sad bones.” She sighed. “I’ve been a scavenger for almost decade, and I can’t level with your vision. Perhaps my upbringing has simply poisoned my perception.” She shrugged. “Although perhaps it’s a poison I’ve become addicted to. If not to marvel over what was left behind, what’s the point of moving forward? I don’t, strictly speaking, desire a family or a stable source of income. Only the fleeting happiness one can find in this world.”

Lorelei stood up from her seat and trudged over toward the door, looking out upon the dusty boulevard. “If it isn’t locked up tight, this place will be a treasure trove of all things nostalgic and scavenge-worthy.” She pointed out the door. “Lead the way.”

Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Lexington

Adam followed Lorelei out the door and into the street. He could hear Lorelei speak, but the words were gibberish as his mind wandered at the thought of Lexington. The town was too quiet and this kind of desertion set his heart beating as he walked warily. No raiders, no critters, no bots, nothing. His concerns were interrupted when he rammed into Lorelei. "Ow. Sorry, I was, ah, daydreaming a little." Lorelei looked at him funny but shrugged it off and spoke to him. Lorelei said, “If it isn’t locked up tight, this place will be a treasure trove of all things nostalgic and scavenge-worthy.” She pointed out the door. “Lead the way.” Adam looked at the door and touched it, gently running a hand along the handle side of the door and slowly twisting the knob, but it didn't move far. Adam sighed softly, "No sign of traps, but the doors locked.". Adam pushed on the door gently once more, pressing different points inward as it rattled. He stood back and kicked a small spot near the handle and the door broke open, the handle falling to the ground. "Not what I had in mind, but it'll do. Adam turned on his flashlight and looked around as his light shined over the old store, pointing his pistol at different points. "Clear! Come on in, Lorelei." He turned to Lorelei and lowered his pistol, taking his finger out of the trigger guard. "So what're you hoping to find in this place, kid? Or we just going on a day trip and seeing what we can find?"

"Don't play the innocent with me...", Mary said with a predatory smile as she held up the jar for Shelby to see, "...You know what you saw. The questions you should be asking are why I did it, and by what means did I achieve it."

Shelby swallowed the lump in her throat, “Witchcraft?” she said very quietly.

"So tell me, was it everything you thought it would be?", Mary chuckled and continued, "Somehow I doubt it. No one who plays this game for Fame and glory will last for very long....certainly not the six hundred years I have been walking this Earth. In my world, power comes from knowledge, and bargains in which unspeakable acts...like what you watched him do to me...and even immortal souls are used as currency."

Shelby's jaw dropped, 600 years? No fuckin’ way. she tilted her head checking Mary out, failing to understand, or eve believe her 600 year comment.

"I'm going home and taking a good hot bath", Mary announced, "I'm absolutely filthy." She then pointed at the ceiling and continued. "feel free to stop by once my houseguest leaves....poor lad has no idea what I am and I intend to keep it that way. I won't be coming back here again, so feel free to take what you want. Whatever you do, though...don't go upstairs, a Deathclaw has it's nest up there." she then climbed up and opened the door, moonlight flooding down from the open doorway, Mary's head silhouetted in the frame. "One last thing", Mary whispered, though Shelby could hear it clearly, "I'm going to trust you with my little secret...consider it a test of character." Mary then placed the key to the cellar on the top step and closed the cellar door behind her.

Her mind was absolutely reeling, she had witnessed an act unlike anything she had ever seen before. She looked up at th3 ceiling, it was then she could hear what sounded like claws tapping on the floor walking around, Mary's words of warning flew through her mind. She followed suit and hurried outside i to the morning light. Taking a seat on a piece of broken concrete she could not stop thinking.

I sacrificed a lot with Calypso, some twisted shit, some gruesome. If I could handle that...if Mary would teach me I could destroy Calypso. Shelby jumped up and ran towards town when a vertibird flew overhead. She paused, looking for The Jaded Empire dragon on the side, but it was just the Brotherhood insignia. They didn't bother her too much, especially here. Sure, they were assholes, but the Brotherhood around here had no idea of her slaving dealings. A man rushing from Mary's house snapped her back, she bit her lip and marched over to the front door. It was left half open, she pushed it and walked in, “Mary?” Her voice somewhat quiet, she heard the sound of a bath faucet being turned off and the sound of moving water. She crept towards the sound and knocked lightly on the bathroom door, “Mary?”

She took a deep breath, “Teach me. Tell me what type of shit I have to do to learn. I still am in disbelief, but I can't unsee what I witnessed so I know it's real.”

Rick Noel – Clinic – Morning

"It does give me an idea however, I wonder if we might be able to send a similar request to The Directorate for assistance here. Word it in such a way that they might find interest in sending some aid. Some medical supplies and equipment for the clinic would do wonders here and if we could get a Courser requisitioned...well, the town wouldn't have to worry about attacks from raiders anymore. That's for sure. It’s a long shot, I know, and we'd have to be extremely discrete about it to the townsfolk. Perhaps we should give it some thought at least..."

Rick listened to the doc and pondered for a bit. He shook his head, “That could always be a possibility. I see no reason for them to say no, as long as we provide something in exchange. I can’t see them doing it out of goodness of their heart. As far as courser, that’d be a toughie, how would its presence or skills be explained.”

Rick leaned against the wall scratching his head and then turning to the doc, “Plus, at the moment, we don’t have that many coursers. The Homefront takes priority; I can send a message out to them. From my old files I seem to recall a secure communication location near hear, somewhere were agents could resupply and hide out if they couldn’t be transported. I’ll see what I can find.”

With that said Rick excused himself, and headed back to the house. He grabbed his bag and headed back out. He needed to locate a terminal, but was unsure of where to find one. He looked at the turrets on the center of town, and followed the cabling. The cabling led to building next to where the generator had been dropped off. He made his way up the building, it looked deserted, but he could tell people had been there recently.

It was dimly lit, but boarded windows provided just enough light through the gaps, to make it visible. He made his way up, to what looked like a reconstructed room. The walls and roof had been rebuilt as best as possible. There were various terminals, which made him happy. He sat in front of one and luckily enough it was unlocked. He pulled a holotape from his pack and inserted it.

He typed his password in, and soon the institute Emblem Appeared on the screen followed by a folder with multiple files. He began searching, and found his old SRB files, including locations of safehouses. Lucky for them, there was one and it was very close. Rick smiled, and ejected the holotape. He looked around the room, and wondered why there were so many terminals. Most were off, but one caught his attention.

He saw on the monitor multiple images, but they were moving. It was a surveillance feed. From the looks of it, and based on how the images moved, the turrets had cameras and were feeding a live feed to this terminal. The monitor next to it had info for the turrets, most likely targeting parameters. These were pretty advanced parameters and turrets for a place like Salem. Made him wonder about who had installed them and ran them.

He covered his tracks, ensuring everything was back to the way he had left it. Having a near eidetic memory helped. Once out of the building he headed over to the clinic but heard gunshots and yelling. He made his way to the edge of town past the Inn. He nearly froze when he saw mutants in the distance. He saw one =, running at high speed charging the mutants head on; a little foolhardy, even for someone as strong as a super mutant. Oddly enough he came from town, did the town have mutants?

He remained behind covered and took aim at the mutants, but unsure whether to shoot at the one that charged. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he quickly barreled to the side taking aim at whoever was behind him. “Easy cowboy, it’s just me.” Ace replied as he held his hand up smirking.

“Shit, you scared me,” Rick Replied as he lowered his gun and stood up and crouched by a log overlooking the fight.

Ace crouched next to him and aimed what looked like a plasma gun based on the glowing green color coming from slits on the barrel. “Quick thinking on your part, never expected you to move that quickly. Lucky for me you didn’t pull the trigger…that’s good, shows you’re not a killer” Ace replied as he kept his eyes fixed on the fight.

Rick looked down, and realized Ace was right. The killing of that raider from before was bothering him, it weighed on his mind. “Yeah…” Rick said as he looked back up.

“You see that hollering mutie that ran towards the others? Don’t shoot him, he’s on our side…allegedly. His name is Rook, make sure you aim for the others.” Ace said as he pointed at the mutant. Rick nodded, and as he was crouched he moved closer. He heard one mutant yell for a medic, which caught both him and Ace off guard. They saw another mutant but he looked like he was wearing some sort of power armor.

They made their way to the wall, and they heard the sounds of turret motor. Ace sounded puzzled, as he remarked he never seen that turret before. It didn’t whirr or beep as they got closer, which meant it wasn’t targeting them. Though from the looks it wasn’t joined to the other turret network.

Ace pointed at something and they made their way, it looked like there was an injured man. Upon closer look, he was missing limbs and was bleeding badly, worst of all he was a mutant. The ghoul seemed to be still alive. Rick slowly muttered ugh in disgust. "Bad enough he's ghoul, to be torn like that..." Ace said breaking the silence. Ace bent down picking up the man, "I'll take him to clinic, I doubt doc will be able to do anything, based on his condition." Rick turned back to the action, settled his nerves and began targeting the mutants that seemed hostile. He made sure not to shoot the armored one, and the one Ace had mentioned.

Gorge the mutant - Salem center of town - Morning

Red lasers streaked through the air striking and burning unprotected material and flesh. One mutant began to burn and scream while another was killed by a metal pole that was being held by another armored mutant. Gorge kept up his assault on the two mutants who were still alive, the ambush had confused both of them, one burning and striking the other out of panic.

The two mutants finally fell to the barrage of lasers and being struck by the other mutant. Gorge seemed to now be in a momentary standoff with the other armored creature, the barrels on his Gatling laser continued to spin. The barrels red-hot and ready to once again burn through anything in his path, slowly stopped as the mutant realized this one was doing the same stare down.

After a few more tense moments he lowered his weapon and looked off into the direction of where they came. There was still a bit of smoke rising from the vehicles that were destroyed earlier but no movement and no sounds. Looking back to the other mutant he stepped forward towards it, slowly until he was still a safe enough distance from him, speaking with his usual dry voice, “I assume you are another friendly mutant?” his question lingered for only a moment before suddenly remembering, “Harold.”

Gorge broke contact with the other mutant quickly moving over debris and other obstacles to where he left him. By the time he had reached the area where Harold was, the ghoul was gone and a trail of blood lead into town. He followed the trail but soon found himself moving slowly, there were quite a few hidden eyes watching, he could feel them looking over him while he removed the cloak from his armor continuing to carry it with him.

He had figured as much, the Brotherhood of steel wasn’t particularly in favor in this area. Most could still work out the faded insignia on the shoulder and chest pieces of his armor. He had been shot at and yelled at before just for wearing it by both citizens and other BOS members who would not believe him and claimed that he killed a knight captain and modified his armor.

The armor looked as if it had been through hell and back, scorch marks, scratches, dents from bullets, black smudges from laser and plasma fire, and half of it was covered in dirt and mud. He stopped in the middle of town and set his gun down, he didn’t believe he was technically invited yet. Harold was one thing, he was heavily injured. But Gorge, well, Gorge was heavily armored. He took his helmet off and set it onto his weapon looking around at the buildings and the state of the settlement. With the threat of the mutants gone he could get a good feel for this place and its people.