December 3rd 2286 - 15:00
Fleetwood Subway Station - Last Light

---

Before them the wall loomed. Dark and terrible, it was made from the carcasses of destroyed vehicles, collected rubble and whatever else could be collected by whoever had taken it upon themselves to seal the ruins beyond. So close to the border it didn't matter what time it was, it was always night here. Mutters of discontent could already be heard, the gathered dozen or so already present staring up into the rain that at any moment could become acidic. They, like many others, had been called to the Necropolis by some cause or another, and just like all others they were feeling second thoughts upon being presented with the reality of their quest. Perhaps it was the lingering silence that hit upon them the most, only the gentle drip of raindrops upon pavement breaking it. No gunshots, screams or creatures calling into the wild. Just the shifting of the city's bones and the ever present rain.

Someone called out to them from a nearby subway tunnel, one of three still somewhat intact that lead straight into the city. It was where this group had decided to meet, and their route inside. And so they descended into the depths one by one, leaving behind the deserted suburbs above.

While above there was only the rain and the picked-clean ruins of the city streets, below was an almost jarring shift. Candles burned along the handrails and walls, small offerings of preserved foods and water for any brave enough to face the Necropolis. A few lived within, making a home of the station's former control booth and greeting each adventurer with a face that was both warm and foreboding at the same time. These people had seen many like them, and knew that any who chose to take to the rails and push forward would not return. So they had dedicated themselves to ensuring that the last face they would see would be one of hope and warmth, at the very least to ease their passage.

This particular group was more diverse and unruly than most they had seen, drawn from across the East Coast and a few from beyond. A man quietly counted pills in a lunchbox, one of a few medics that had been selected, while another nervously did the same with bullets. To the side a small group of three sat together and whispered softly to each other, eyeing up the others with undisguised concern. Their jackets bore the mark of a red talon on the breast, making it easy to assume they were remnants of the ill-fated Talon Company. Crunching of pavement and the mechanical hiss of well-oiled joints and pneumatics announced two more entering the subway tunnel. Brotherhood of Steel paladins, one bearing a star upon her shoulder and with helmet mag-locked to her waist, the other taller by a decent foot and trying his best to show some form of camaraderie with the others. The woman, Khaliya as identified by the holotags around her neck and conversation with the man, did not. Instead her emerald eyes scanned across each in turn as if evaluating them and afterwards she turned to her companion.

"He's not here." She said firmly, keeping her tone low and staying close. It took little to pin down exactly who she was speaking of, as a few of the others had already drawn the same conclusion. Their mysterious benefactor was not present despite instructions to meet them at this specific location by this time. Already the group was growing restless, and with their varied backgrounds that had enemies in the same camp, she felt as if standing in a tinder box with a match nearby.

Bailey lays on an old Subway Bench next to the ticket booth, A old, decrepit radio is perched on the window of the ticket booth. It's signal is weak but what can be heard through the bursts of static are verses of a song known as "Crawl out through the fallout" by Sheldon Allman.

She sits quietly singing to herself, It's almost a whisper but while she's by no means the wastelands next famous singer she's not bad either. As she sings she looks up at the roof of the subway as if remembering better times.

"Crawl out through the fallout, baby
To my loving arms
Through the rain of Strontium-90
Think about your hero
When you're at Ground Zero
And crawl out through the fallout back to me!"

She tilts her head toward the door and ceases singing as she recognizes the mechanical clunking and hissing of power armour, Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of the two brotherhood paladins surveying the scene. Her brain runs into overdrive as her hand slowly slide down towards her laser rifle tucked along side her on the bench out of sight. She eyes up the others in the subway with even more suspicion as the paladins enter wondering if this was all just an elaborate scheme to lure out Enclave Agents she quickly dismisses this thought as if that were the case they would have brought more troops. She decides to keep her hand on her rifle and try to keep calm, She looks them over as the moments of her brothers death in subway tunnels not too different from these play back in her mind until she spots one of the paladins weapons.

She feels a familiar burning sensation in her shoulder as she remembers when she saw that weapon. That "Sword" was one of the last things she remembers seeing before she got hit at Rockland. She remembers it's user cutting a swathe through her friends even while she was being evacuated. She stares at them the hatred still burning inside her despite the years since, She returns to staring at the roof trying to remain anonymous and wishing them away while she waits for "Pariah" to arrive.

With an almost child like wonder in his eyes, Emil gazes upon the numerous knickknacks and doodads the ruined station had to offer him. "Whoa. Never seen anything like this back at home." He muttered to himself quietly as his gaze wanders the area. The quiet echoes of the rain along with the gentle light coming from the numerous lit candles gave the station something of a cozy-ish atmosphere. Though really what this place could use is some music, and that old radio perched on the ticket booth window was not properly supplying it. That was something he had to fix stat.

Two individuals wearing power armor had walked into the area, a shocking sight but he simply hopes they don't make a ruckus of the things here. Doing his best not to bother anyone, he makes his way to the radio and gives it a once over. 'Hmm...a Radiation King Zenith, Model 7. Kinda rare model but should be easy enough to fix.' Emil thought to himself as he set down his backpack and pulled out his roll of tools. Soon he had picked apart the radio and discovered that a number of components had been chewed by some critters and due to that caused the radio's issues. With a quick replacement of a few components and a couple of creative rewiring jobs, the radio was now properly broadcasting the clear music throughout the small area. A smile graces his face as he returns his tools back to his bag before taking a seat beside his bag below the window. He began to hum to the tune of the song he had never had heard before, but as soon as he was getting to know the lyrics of the song, the radio had changed to the next track.

"Okay, Marvin. Remember that you should he careful. No one knows what's inside the Necropolis and even if you have a bunch of mercenaries with you. Not that that puts me in any ease but..."

Marvin looked at Emily as she continued to blabber on about warnings and what he should do and what he should bring. The ghoul was impressed how worried she was when she was the one who told him to accept Pariah's offer. So he did. As a mercenary, he already knew what he should do. He wouldn't have survived for all this time without knowing the basics.

Gordon cleared his throat. "With all due respect Emily, I believe Marvin already knows all of this." He reminded the agent in a deadpan tone.

Emily pouted as her hands bawled into fists. "I know that. It's just that I want him to come back from the place."

"Don't worry kiddo. I've lived this long. I'll be damned if I die now." Gordon reassured the girl and patted her head. "Just make sure I have a home to go back to." Without waiting for their reply, he departed the base and headed to the station where they would meet up.

---

Marvin wasn't sure what to make of this place. It had a sense of foreboding. Beyond those kind faces, Marvin could clearly tell that they didn't believe that they were going to come back. No one has after all. But at least they didn't care who went through the place. He didn't bother putting on the mask since they would know that he was a ghoul once they go through. He didn't need those fancy radiation suits or power armor to repel the radiation after all.

He picked out a relatively peaceful spot and began checking up on his Combat Rifle to make sure that it wasn't going to fail him when he needed it the most. But after a while, he just ended up polishing it because he didn't have anything else to do. He looked around to survey who they had. He could see some from the Talon Company. Poor group. Marvin wasn't sure what happened to them but they soon lost their notoriety among the mercenary groups.

Then, two BoS soldiers entered in full power armor. Talk about a show of power, but he could hear the sound of Power Armor a mile away. Of course, those guys tackled problems head on. Geez, if it so happens that they'd always want to just run and shoot, Marvin wasn't sure just how well this mission would go. He could clearly see that the woman had a sword - and it was a mean one. A melee fighter huh? Amusing.

He wasn't sure how they felt about ghouls but right now, he hoped they wouldn't attack him on the spot for not being the same as them. A human.

"You'd think the boss would come huh?" He thought out loud. As with most of them there, he was expecting to see someone who would at least give them the orders. Unless this Pariah is already here and disguising himself as one of the mercenaries. He leaned back and then continued to listen to the music. Looks like someone fixed it at least.

Alexis arrived a few days prior to the meeting time just to be sure that no one laid an ambush for her.
In her long life she learned two things. One, always arrive early to a possible ambush and two, never sleep on the ground.

She met several locals and asked as much as she could without revealing nothing about her, regarding her mysterious employee. 'Alas, no one knew anything about him. So, she resigned herself to toying with her cybernetic arm somewhere hidden.

Slowly the others came, first a female then a man and then a ghoul she ignored and then two BoS soldiers one of whom she heard about. Swordwind. She rose up from the place she called camp and went towards them. Somewhere in the middle of the process, the radio started signing a different song and with a higher volume than before.

With her cybernetic hand, she gripped her pistol in case things went south and asked the one known as Swordwind :

" Hi. What is the mighty Stormwind doing between us, lesser people. ? "
Her tone was not of malice or sarcasm but of genuine curiosity. The voice that came out of the mask was metallic in nature and most would find it strange.
If Stormwind was here, that meant their employee was more resourceful than it appeared at a glance.

Rylan stared up at the wall for a few moments before being distracted by the raindrops splashing against his visor. Each one impacted and dispersed into a unique trail that would roll down his visor. In his current state of mind, high as fuck on a chem cocktail that'd kill a lesser or perhaps just smaller man. They were a beautiful sight to behold, it reminded him of the glee he felt in the countless times he had watched blood splash against the same visor as he rended the flesh of his victims into pieces to be hung outside their camp. Good times indeed.

Rylan's armor made a faint clatter with every step he took into the subway tunnels. He gently lowered his duffel bag to the ground at his feet as he took up a position leaning against the tunnel wall, acutely aware that the bag represented likely his only chance of a fix for the next few days at least. He glanced around at his counterparts, for the most part they looked the "civilised" kind, even a couple Brotherhood peons had found there way into this little mission. None of them seemed to be his kind of people except maybe the ghoul. Rylan could never get the measure of a ghoul, but by and large he liked them, squishy but not soft, easy to cut but hard to kill. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way many times, few of them were screamers, he figured having your flesh melt off must have been comparable to what he put them through.

Still though, no sign of "Pariah" not that he particularly cared. He was going in whether he got paid or not. Fifty-five was damn old for someone in his line of work and he had no intentions of seeing his body wither away like so many elder wastelanders, weak and helpless, absolutely disgusting. He was gonna die on his feet and while nothing so far had been up to the task, this little endeavor seemed to have promise, after all you don't go somewhere called "Necropolis" without expecting some death to occur.

"If they don't show soon I'm going in regardless." Rylan brought his rifle up and examined it one last time, once he was satisfied the action was in working order he pushed against the upper and lower blades to make sure they were still sturdily held in place, they were. "Got shit to do, places to be, things to kill."

The group of Gunners looked up at the wall in bewilderment. Never had any of them imagined it would be that big or imposing. Monika had passed Necropolis on her and Marius' treck East and she had of course heard the rumours, everyone had. She said to herself then that she wanted to stay as far away as possible. Never in her life did she think she'd come back, especially voluntarily. With one last kiss from her husband that felt like it was over before it even began and an embrace from the other few who volunteered to escort her. She turned and descended the stair case lighting a cigarette on the way down to help calm her nerves.

She descended into the tunnel. Around her were people conversing and drinking. But most sat on their own, most likely knowing what lay ahead. She went to find somewhere to sit, choosing a corner, where hopefully no one would bother her. In that room full of insincere people with insincere smiles. Of course she knew why they wore them but they made her uncomfortable non the less.

Looking for something to take her mind off of what was about to come she took her rifle out and began cleaning it. Noticing other mercs sat around the room each of them as alone as the other. One that caught her eye was a girl lying on a bench singing along to the radio in what seemed to be similar combat armour to her but hers wasn't weary from a few centuries of ware and tear. It looked well looked after and cleaned.

The man built like a tank and wearing what appeared to be most of one was the most imposing figure she could see. He reminded her of the Legion camp leader that took her as a trophy all those years ago. A half smile came across her mouth when she remembered that he was most definitely dead and was dead by her hands.

Holding her locket in her hand and fiddling with the wedding ring on her finger. She thought to herself she already missed her family, trying to hold back a single tear when she was interrupted by the heavy foot steps of power armour. She noticed the girl on the bench immediately go on edge which also set her alarms off. Grabbing the grip of her rifle and putting the locket away she waited to see what would happen.

Seeing the girl on the bench relax again when the two power armoured BoS members entered the room. She could tell from forced body language alone that this was not going to be an enjoyable trip.

She regained her composure after the female BoS mentioned "him". Monika was in no way a genius but she knew who the Paladin was referring too. Leaning back and taking a final puff of her cigarette she went back to quietly cleaning her gun and checking over her equipment. "Just like any other OP" she muttered to herself. "just like any other OP"

Jerry jumped out of his bed in a gasp. His sister was standing just a foot away, still shaking his body. He grabbed both her hands with his and before he could ask, she blurted out "Its a code Black, Jerry! The Imperator is calling all Battle-Wagon Drivers to form up in the main Bay!". Without any hesitation Jerry nodded and quickly began to put on his clothes. His padded Brown leather jacket over his Ballistic Weave vest and his Racing Goggles tightened to the top of his head, pressing his hair down in a ridiculous manner. The Wild Cat Battle Driver ran to the main bay as fast as he could. The Garage was a massive three story tall Garage and part Warehouse. Most lived on the top while the young, old, and sick laid in the Vault underneath. Jerry was sleeping in his Families Garage Holding on the second Floor. The closest to the Bay than any other quarters were. It only took Jerry a minute of running to find himself on the large Catwalk that overlooked the Whole First level of the Garage. Everyone was running around, mounting weapons, topping off on gas, and any other pre-system checks before heading off.

Jerry found the nearest ladder and slid down, almost breaking his feet with the amount of speed he had gained as he hit the Concrete floor. His Father quickly approached Jerry and took him by the Hand leading him onward. "Father? What is happening? What is going on!?". With the outburst the whole Garage turned silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Jerry and his Father. Jerry's Father now had a wide grin on his face. He turned back to grab the back tarp that was lying over a Car. He yanked at it hard Revealin-

---

"If they don't show soon I'm going in regardless."

Jerry woke up again in shock. He moved up from the wall that served as his temporary bed and put his hand over his Pistol's grip. It was just a dream. You're back at the meetup point. Jerry lowered his guard once his surroundings reminded him where he was. He shook his head in embarrassment. He had fallen asleep at a random location full of strangers. He was getting careless, but it wasn't like he held anything worth much on him. Jerry grunted in amusement. He was defending himself against himself for being careless. The waste have really begun to take a tole on him.

The Blackfinger looked around to see what everyone else was doing. Most of them seemed to be waiting as well, but most didn't look happy about it. Of course if this was legitimate the Pariah wouldn't just be sitting here to greet them. That would be suicide. Shit, all of them standing around here so openly was suicide. They must think pretty highly of themselves or they were all Idiots. Then again none of them look like they were just sleeping...

Jerry took quick glances at the ones surrounding him. Most just looked like the average Wastelander, nothing too crazy. Another looked like a Raider Leader, but Jerry highly doubted that with him not being surrounded by a bunch of Raider trash. The ones that really caught his eye was the Trio in Power Armor. The Armor didn't really surprise him. The Wild Cats had a collection of suits when they raided the Warren Military base. That's where they mostly got the armor for their vehicles. Although the symbols that they had marked on them were new. He was sure to keep his eyes on these ones. With his new party sized up, Jerry went back to leaning on the wall and looking at the floor. Using his ears more than his vision to learn more about the situation he had placed himself in.

December 2nd 2286 - 04:03pm
Mac Kenzie Bar, New York - A Toast to the Fallen

---

"Do you understand your mission, Agent Lambda?"

Silence was the reply. John Delaware, either oblivious to, or outright ignoring the inquiry, simply walked the modest floor space of the bar, every so often dragging his fingertips along the countertop before lifting them up to examine the caked layer of dust left behind.

Perhaps, John wondered, with a bitter half-smirk to himself, there was once a time when the Mac Kenzie was a vibrant venue for men of the Old World, seeking the comforting reprieve of alcohol after a stressful 9-to-5 shift. He could hear it still, glasses clinking together, bawdy laughter reverberating off the walls, all the world's problems put on hold until time to pay the tab.

Still silent, John moved past a few slumped over skeletons, still seated on termite-eaten stools, frozen in time, yet corroded by decay. Stepping behind the bar, he scoured the racks before finding an old bottle of scotch whisky, its contents still colored a bright amber.

With his free hand, John grabbed two drinking glasses, similarly coated with dust and grime, but still quite usable; placing all three items on the bar. Unscrewing the bottle cap, John filled both glasses to the brim, gently pushing one forward.

"Want some?" John finally spoke, his tone fairly neutral, if burdened by heavy weight. Without waiting for an answer, John lifted his own glass, inclining it towards his associate in a mock toast before downing it in one go. It wasn't bad for 200-year-old scotch found in some Pre-War bar, but the alcohol had gone soft, lost its bite. It would've taken a few more glasses to even give John a buzz, let alone get him properly drunk.

"We don't drink." The first voice replied, sternly.

"Right." John returned with a small shrug, helping himself to the second glass without skipping a beat. Pausing briefly to let the taste linger in his mouth, he continued: "Not sure what the point was in making you look human if you can't even act like it."

The Courser seemed unfazed by the statement, hardly moving from his original position. Yet his eyes stayed locked on John the entire time he moved around the bar, like a predator.

Though he had worked with them for years, the Coursers unsettled John immensely: their movement, their way of speaking, the inflection of their words. Everything they did seemed off -- inhuman.

"You don't seem to be taking this seriously, Agent Lambda." the Courser noted aloud. His voice was a deep bass, marked with a slight growl at the end of each sentence that gave hint to the calculated savagery beneath his detached demeanor.

John gave a disgruntled "Hrrm..." before stepping out from the bar, moving til he was face-to-face with the Courser. Despite both men being the same height, give-or-take an inch-or-two, John nevertheless felt small. Powerless. Perhaps it was the unflinching gaze in the Courser's piercing blue-green eyes, or the inhuman strength that hid behind ordinary-looking flesh-and-blood; strength that he had firsthand experience with.

"You'll have to forgive me for not exactly jumping for joy over a suicide mission, X3." John replied bitterly, knowing full-well that no one had thus far returned from the wretched hellhole of the Necropolis.

The Courser's expression did not change, showing no sympathy for John's plight. "You're sufficiently qualified for this mission, Agent Lambda. If the Institute did not have faith in your competency, we would not be having this conversation. The SRB has good reason to assume a number of rogue Synths have hidden in the Necropolis to avoid retrieval and retention. You will not have any direct instructions during your assignment, but are expected to retire any and all Gen. 3 Synths you find within the Necropolis, are we clear, Agent?"

"Yeah." John said, pouring himself another drink. "Clear as crystal."

December 3rd 2286 - 03:05pm
Fleetwood Subway Station, New York - Footfalls Through the Rain

---

The walk from Massachusetts to New York had taken John nearly four days. He wasn't sure what was keeping him going through the 200-mile-long journey except his own stubbornness. As he got closer, he could see the New York skyline looming in the distance, grim and foreboding like a sliver of post-nuclear Hell. The City that Never Sleeps, now dead in the storm. His impromptu meeting with X3-98 at the Mac Kenzie was the last official contact he'd had with the Institute, leaving him for the first time on his own. So he walked.

Steady raindrops beat down on him, falling in indiscriminate patterns down the worn surface of his coat, dripping from the brim of his hat onto his nose, inciting John to wipe the droplets off his face with a swipe of his sleeve.

The subway tunnel they were instructed to meet in opened up from the wall like a cavernous maw, ready to devour another fresh set of wanderers, each unwilling to let go. It reminded John of rumors he'd heard of the Sierra Madre in the Mojave Desert, a supposed haven of Pre-War riches that tempted scavengers and would-be adventurers from all walks of life, all damned never to return.

Inside the tunnel, past wind and rain, the dozens upon dozens of lit candles provided an almost comforting glow, no doubt to put the explorers at ease in their final moments. Scanning the offerings of food and refreshment for a bottle of liquor - and finding none - John huffed quietly to himself, adjusting the raised collar of his coat to let the remaining rain droplets fall off him.

Apparently not the first to arrive, John spotted a good number of adventurers within, each of them bearing the standard and equipment of one faction or another. A medic here or there; a couple mercs, some from the remnants of Talon Company that drew a raised eyebrow from John, another bearing numerous markings and insignias from before the Great War, one more garbed in a heavy cloak and Riot Gear, and another woman in camouflaged combat gear; two Brotherhood Paladins in full suits of T-60 Power Armor; a Ghoul in a hooded green coat; a massive stone wall of a man in savage metal plate armor; and, to John's great surprise, a familiar-looking face.

Alexis Darksong. It's the kind-of name you'd hear about in a mystery book. John had certainly heard the name before from one of X3's contacts, but didn't recall ever meeting her. A man in John's position didn't have the privilege of speaking to any official Institute personnel, let alone stepping into the Institute proper. Why someone would want to leave, head into the Post-War Hell intrigued him.

Putting those thoughts to the side for now, John felt himself loosen up in the warmth of the subway tunnel, his muscles relaxing automatically. Reaching into his coat, John pulled out a small pack of cigarettes, wordlessly putting one to his lips, letting it dangle loosely as he felt about for his lighter. Not feeling its familiar presence, John's movements became slightly more agitated as he realized he forgot his lighter somewhere in the maze-like suburbs. Muttering a single, "Shit" John instead picked up one of the candles and held its modest flame to the cigarette's unlit end, waiting for the flame to catch before putting it back down.

With a long drag, John breathed out a small puff of smoke, leaning himself back against one of the damp walls of the tunnel, waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive.

Half of them will die within the first mile. The thought had come unbidden and it took a moment for her to recognize just how right she was. It was rather unfortunate, as it was clear a great deal of effort had been spent to acquire such… Unique people. More than a couple medics, skilled mercenaries, what seemed like a raider well out of his element and prime, and not to mention herself and Jeremiah. He was taking to it rather well, too well in fact. Off to the side he had approached a small gathering keeping to themselves, speaking softly and with that damned smile of his that made her worry and relax all at the same time. True, the Necropolis had foiled even the Brotherhood's attempts to discover its secrets, and countless other groups had broken themselves upon it. Something about this particular group though…

Khaliya stirred from her idle thoughts, sensing attention on her and seeking it out. Another woman was staring over at her and it was with some bit of recognition. Slowly the expression on her face changed from the idle observation of before and into a wry smirk, patting her hand on the pommel of her blade and sending a wink over. Nothing like a little bit of tension in the air and possible old animosities to get her back in the mood. Speaking of which, her eyes settled back on the Talon Company mercs, who were also staring quite firmly in her direction. Now those people she recognized. Jeremiah had seemed to catch on to the growing need to fight in the group, the crunch of his boots guiding him over to stand between her and the mercs.

"They're here for a reason, just like us Lia. We need to work together."

All he got from her was a rolling of the eyes and a sigh that spoke of her resignation. For now at least the situation was defused and they could all get back to wondering just where the hell the Pariah was. Khaliya had her suspicions of course, but that was for her and perhaps her husband to share. Perhaps not all of them were here yet. Despite being a fairly large and well armed group, it would have been smart to- That thought was interrupted by someone else gaining her attention, this time by addressing her directly.

"What is the mighty Swordwind doing between us, lesser people?"

The voice was rough and metallic, and in the span of the moment between being addressed and turning to answer, Khaliya assessed the potential threat. She wasn't immediately familiar with this one, so it wasn't one who she had fought in battle before, but the woman was ready for a fight. That at first made it seem as if she was looking to start one, but her posture spoke differently, as did the tone of her addressment itself. Curiosity?

"Just like you, I was offered something." Her hand still rested on her sword, and part of her was more than eager to find out who could draw first and finish that particular fight. At such close range, Khaliya was confident it would be her, though if the other woman did get a shot off… It would be dangerously close, and there was a decently high chance that if she missed another would be hit. All she had to do was give a glance behind her and see a woman smoking nearby, and a man stooping to light a cigarette of his own with a candle. Not today. Slowly she removed her hand from her sword, though it remained close at hand just in case.

Khaliya eyed up the woman carefully now, wondering on who and perhaps even what she was. She had the bearing of someone who knew how to fight and was decently equipped for it, which only made her wonder just what the Pariah offered her.

"Though it seems as if our Pariah is a no-show for his own party. Not like we needed a tour-guide anyways."

---

---

[ Two Days Earlier ]

“Quit your whining, Louis, and keep still or you're going to be here a lot longer.”

Delicate and agile fingers slowly wove the thread in and out of the bloodied flesh, the wound being sewn up about two inches across the older man's cheek. A man who absolutely hated needles, blood, or pain for that matter, but also couldn't have put more trust in someone to patch him up than Frankie. “S-sorry love, it's just-"

“Yes, yes.” The other interrupted, knowing exactly what he was going to say as she cleared her throat to prepare it for a terrible impression of her current patient. “ ‘I'm not as invincible as I used to be, back when I was working the ol’ railway system out in the western territories...’ “ She got a chuckle out of mocking the old man, whom she’d come to respect as a friend, and even as a moral compass to a certain degree.

“Is that really how I sound?” The other arched a bushy, gray eyebrow while trying maintain complete stillness. “So...gruff and uncivilized?”

“Nah.” Frankie snorted, It's just me having fun. Ya know, gotta laugh to keep from crying, blah blah blah.”

“You? Cry?” The other snickered. “You're about as dry as the Nevada dunes, dear. I'm not even sure I've ever seen you shed a tear about anything since you got here.”

“You mean since your friends kidnapped me from a perfectly good home and family, just so I could involuntarily join this merry band of psychos?”

Louis kept quiet for a moment, but he didn’t have to say anything as the expression in his eyes gave a complete picture. The old man was one of many who’d been thrown in with the raider parties over many years, and while he didn’t agree with their tactics, he had very little recourse, and survival was still at the top of his list. “You know they aren’t my ‘friends’, love.” He finally spoke, clearing his throat. “And if it wasn’t for my mechanical know-how, I’d have been roach bait a long time ago…” He left it at that, knowing that Frankie didn’t need to be reminded of what would happen to non-compliance when running with a group who seemed to care very little for human life.

---

[ Fleetwood Subway Station ]

The young girl stared out into the endless darkness of the tunnel, her hand anxiously pulling at the laces on her boots, biding her time as her and the others in the motley group waited for something to happen. Frankie couldn’t quite figure out why she’d even chosen to come this far east, to New York City of all places, but then again, perhaps that was her lot in life: the wander. Although, the catalyst for her decision was quite out of her control considering the last encampment of Raiders she’d been stuck with were all but wiped out, attacked by opposing raider forces, causing survivors -including herself- to scatter like insects amongst the open wasteland. One of her only friends at that time, Louis, unfortunately was unable to make it far, his weak heart giving the last few pumps before cardiac arrest took him from the world for good. And with all the medical experience and knowledge she’d accumulated over her adolescent life, not one bit of it would help the old man, as the radiation sickness killed whatever was left. She hoped, however, that Louis was in a better place than where he’d started.

The hydraulics and gears from the overhead doors pulled her from the reverie, causing her attention to catch a glimpse of the armored soldiers strolling in like they owned the place. She knew who they were, perhaps not on any personal level, but collected enough information over the years to have a fairly solid opinion.

“Great. The Brotherhood of Assholes have arrived…” She mumbled under her breath, uncapping the dented aluminum water canteen and taking a few sips before replacing the top.

Alexis watched with interest how Stormwind would reply. The first thing she noticed was the hand that moved towards her sword. A practiced motion that was made fluid by years of constant training.
She didn't know who would be faster at this close range but she was not about to test. Moving her hands in front of her, in an inviting non threatening way, she nodded.

" So, the Pariah is both influential and elusive. A good trait to have in the Wasteland but a bad one for us. I guess we all have the same mission but with no sense of direction and no map, we need to be careful. " said Alexis as a reply to Stormwind.
As she was speaking she saw someone familiar. A face from her past. Lambada

She made a subtle hand sign towards him, something that only an Institute agent would know and with the other hand, she extended it towards Stormwind.
" The Mask, a pleasure to meet the legendary Stormwind of the Brotherhood of Steel "

There were so many other people he would like to know about right now. Like that raider looking person, old but looked solid. Or that one who looked like a private investigator. Or that one with the mask. They seemed like interesting people who had great backstories and nothing cheered Marvin up more than learning more about other people's experiences. Because it allowed Marvin to think of new ways to survive. That's just how it is. Their experiences could help him in the future, if they ever survive their trip into the Necropolis.

Marvin looked to the Brotherhood people once more when someone decided to approach them. Swordwind? Ah, so that's why she seemed familiar. He doesn't keep in contact with the Brotherhood, but stories of one of their Paladins being a melee fighter and a beast at that one always found its way to him. He imagined someone else, but it was nice to finally know what she really looked like. And the fact that the mythical Swordwind was actually female. Sometimes, rumors are just really inaccurate and it was frustrating when they were wrong.

However, that wasn't the point right now. The air filled with tension between them - a fight raring to go. Marvin had his gun in his hands already and he was prepared to blow someone's head off just for the reason of stopping a fight. But when nothing happened, he relaxed back in his seat. Well, he supposed they were more level headed than that. The person in the mask, who called herself The Mask, seemed rather chill now. Looks like someone was just going for a tease. Interesting. Well, he was pretty sure that he and the others would become at the very least trusted acquaintances because nothing like delving into the death-filled Necropolis to bring everyone together!

Marvin stood up from his seat and stretched. The others seemed antsy to leave, and honestly, the ghoul was as well. Why wait when it looked like they were complete right? This was a really large group but he expected as much. If Pariah wanted them to succeed, then a large group with a variety of people with a variety of skills might be for the best. The one thing that he appreciated more than having a tank like Swordwind was the fact that they had plenty of medics. Though looking over them, especially the nervous one, made him a little bit worried too.

He walked over to a seemingly innocent looking medic, which surprised him. Maybe it was because she was young? Or because she was silent and not being as nervous as that other guy? Or was it because it took him a second look to realize that she was a female? Who knows. "You're a medic right?" He questioned, the lack of any sort of big weapon being an indication for him. The ghoul gave her an encouraging nod and smile. "Looks like we'll be in your care along with the others." It was better for the medics to know his face now, not that it would be hard since it looked like he was the only ghoul there, than when he's hit and dying from blood loss. "The name's Marvin by the by. I'll probably be the one watching your backs, so yeah."

---

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[ Fleetwood Subway Station ]

Awkward wasn’t quite the word to describe the whole scenario, but it would have to do for now, since not much else other than silence and a few mumbles and whispers had taken place since everyone arrived. Frankie shifted a little and leaned forward to stretch her back, angling her head forward to stretch the tension from her neck and shoulders as well, and perhaps sneak a bit of look at the rather attractive-looking guy with the beard and tattoos who seemed as armed to the teeth as some of the others. Still, at least he was easy on the eyes and-

“Hmm?” The subtle voice from her left startled her and Frankie sat back up straight to see the tall, lean man dressed in a trenchcoat of some sort standing just a couple of feet away. She was pretty sure the man was talking to her -something about her being a “medic”- especially when she noticed there were no others closer to him to address at that moment. The girl really wasn’t in the chatty mood, but it was a lot better than sitting around waiting for the ceiling to cave in and kill everyone. “Um, yeah, I’m-a…”

In mid-sentence, her eyes made their way up toward the other’s face, caught off-guard by the ghoulish appearance and stained cloth strewn across his nose, before catching the words again to at least finish a complete thought. “Yes, I am a medic...for sure.” She nodded, trying her best to cover up her blunder with an equally dumb grin while keeping eye contact without looking like she is trying to maintain it. Oddly enough, the girl had seen a lot of blood and gore throughout her short life, but very few of those poor souls unfortunate enough to have suffered the irreversible physical effects of radiation poisoning. Or, at the very least, this was one of the worse cases she’d encountered ever…

“Um, I’m sorry.” She stood up from the hard ground, her ass feeling as though it could have fallen asleep at any moment. “I’m Frankie, nice to meet you.” She gave the other a half-smile, but all the while keeping her hands tucked away in her coat pockets. Maybe he wouldn’t notice?

“So, um...how long do you think we’ll be here?”

After noticing the Ghoul and another young girl begin conversing, Monika thought to herself while she hated small talk and especially small talk with strangers. Perhaps someone to talk to down here would stop her from going slowly insane. Glancing around the room, she quickly ruled out the men and the Brotherhood members. Her mind was cast back to the girl lying on the bench who she had noticed go on edge when the Brotherhood entered the room. Perhaps, she thought to herself this girl has grievances with them too. Looking over at her she noticed the girl was now looking at a photo with an emotional look in her eye; this gave her even more incentive to try and make acquaintances.

Monika then proceded to put her gear and weapons away and walk over to the girl lying on the bench. Holding the photo of her son in her hand in order to try and break the ice if she noticed it. "So, judging by your reaction, it seems you aren't happy having to share the same space as the Brotherhood either?". Noticing what is on the photo the girl is holding she thinks back to her own family, long before the Legion arrived. "Name's Monika, although i'm sure you don't care. figured talking to someone while waiting for him to appear was better than wearing through my gun polishing it."

Bailey sits on the bench with a old lantern flickering beside her casting light onto an old black and white photo, The photo has five people in it, A woman, A man and three children two of which are girls and the other is a boy. Her facial expression betrays her emotions of nostalgia and loss, She thinks back to her days as a child and her care free summers when her entire family would spend time together playing board games, telling old family stories and watching re-runs of pre-war TV shows and films.

She also feels resentment because in her eyes all this was taken away by the Brotherhood of Steel, They ruined everything.

Bailey looks up and notices the woman who was polishing her weapon early standing next to her.

"Yeah... The so called "Brotherhood of Steel" and the Mutants took my family from me..."

Bailey notices the woman looking at her photo and holds it out to show her.

"My names Bailey by the way... Thats my Mom, Dad and my older brother and twin sister..."

feeling relieved that she didn't just tell her to do one, Monika relaxes and squats down next to Bailey. Handing her the photo of Marius "I'd show you a photo of my family but they were taken by Caesars Legion when I was younger, I've only got this photo of my son. And one of my husband." "I can certainly understand you having gripes with them, while they've never wronged me that badly they've given my group and I trouble in times past." she said with a determined look. "So, what do you reckon the Pariah needs that requires a group this....diverse?

@Cuddles 1438 @HamakazeKai

Seeing as everyone was trying to be friendly and such. Emil thought to join in the conversation between the two that were closest to him. The one laying down was named Bailey, while the one who stood was Monika. They talked about family and such. It was a rather sore topic with Emil, but if the others were willing to share their stories, it would be unfair if he wouldn't. "Oh! You're part of the group this 'pariah' called together too?" Emil pauses for a second and stammers a little before speaking. "My bad. I briefly forgotten my manners." He clears his throat and stands before the two. "My name is Emil. Nice to meet both of you."

@Searat @Cuddles 1438

Bailey looks at the photo Monika handed her before looking back at Monika

"I've heard of Caesars Legion before... Some kind of giant raider army out west right?"

Bailey slides her own picture back into the waterproof pouch in her pocket, She thinks for a moment wondering if she should ask about Monika's encounters with the Legion but decided that if Monika wanted to talk about it she would.

"Marius is very handsome... Is he with your husband? I would have thought someone with a family would have stayed with them?"

Bailey looks over warily at Emil as he introduces himself, Bailey hands Monika's photo back to her and sits up properly and reaches for one of her bottles of water and takes a conservative sip from it before placing it back in her backpack that sits on the bench with her.

"Yeah... We are. I'm not sure about his choice of people though..."

"Raider army. The premise is right but it's putting it extremely lightly."

Well..." she says scratching the back of her head. "family is sort of why I'm here. The line of work our group does is not how I want him raised so I'm here to try and get some money to leave this life behind and move somewhere new." upon hearing Emil introduce himself Monika clenched her fist. "That accent". she thought to herself. It wasn't too dissimilar to those of her home and her tormentors. And while she knew no Legion personnel would venture this far East that didn't stop certain memories coming back. But he was a stranger and a man, and while she had worked up the courage to talk to Bailey. That was simply because she was a woman.

Picking up her gear she turned to walk away "It was nice chatting Bailey, maybe once we get underway we can do it again." As she walked away she passed him "Emil." she said in a monotone voice, giving him the cold shoulder as she walked past.

she then proceeded back to her corner from before and set about lighting another Cigarette before staring into her locket once again.