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Christopher’s house took no prevalence above any other. A box of scrapped aluminum siding wedged behind the men’s bathroom in Megaton, Christopher didn’t do too much other than lay around, asking himself why he had ever sprinted off from that gang he had such great control over. He screwed himself over, and he had lost the most promising opportunity in his life because of it.

“You’re young,” he said, speaking to himself, “You’re young, and you’ve got a whole life ahead of you… you’ll have other opportunities…” he paused for a moment, and thought to himself of how old he really was. Pre-apocalypse, he’d be young… his life expectancy would continue decades from now. But now… in a post-apocalyptical wasteland… how long would he really live?

He couldn’t dwell on this for too long, as it caused him to tremble, and he almost shot off his magnum when he picked it up from under his bed. He stuck it in his pocket, and strapped his carbine over his back. He already wore his combat armor, a charcoal black to match his motorcycle helmet that covered his head. He stuffed all the Stimpaks he could fit in his pack, and he was off.

Where was he off to? He asked himself the same question, and answered it for no one. The looks he was given as he strolled out of Megaton were those of concern, as he hadn’t gone anywhere except from Moriarty’s Saloon and back to his home in the last… the last… has Christopher ever done anything else? Where did he even come from? …he hadn’t been the most social with his neighbors over the last year… he couldn’t have them find out anything about him.
Walking slow and steady, his ankle acting up again, Christopher walked through the gate that the guards so generously opened up for him. And, in a spur of the moment decision, he called up to the gate operator for the general direction of Rivet City, and he was pointed in the right direction. If he was going to make anything of himself, it was going to be in the community on water.
Sorry. Stupid new person question: How do I respond to that?

...I just don't want to do anything wrong...
QUANTUM
Name: Christopher Darter

Age: 27

Faction: Previously in a raider gang, now unaffiliated

Hometown/state: Megaton

Personality: Composed, self-reliant, unconventional, forward-thinking, adaptable, illogical, ungrounded, and indecisive.

History: Came upon a great deal of money after getting lucky during an elongated period of scavenging. At this point, he was by himself, moving from abandoned building to abandoned building, looking for the next best place to loot for the majority of his teenage years. But, there came a day where he was captured by raiders in his sleep after taking refuge in a building he didn’t bother to fully inspect. He was able to have himself captured and not killed by convincing the raiders to bring him to their gang’s leader.
Once brought to the leader of this gang, Christopher made for himself a compelling case on how he could help improve the profits this group could be making. And, happy with the promise of more riches, Christopher was accepted as the gang leader’s advisor at the age of 21.
There came the day where the gang leader died, just a few short years after he was accepted as his advisor, and Christopher had made a kind enough relation with the other gang members to become viewed as their new leader. Running strong for a few good years, making improvements to their workings that made the gang’s name known throughout many parts of their territory, Christopher soon began to fear being taken down. Those under him behaved well, and practically worshipped him. But leaders from other gangs began to realize how much of a threat Christopher had become.
After a few attempts on his life from hired mercenaries, Christopher made the spontaneous decision to steal from his own gang and lie low in a town far away from his prior territory, as now even the gang that used to love him wished him dead. After a journey quite detrimental to his health, he’s been lying low in Megaton, where the things he took from his gang have been allowing him to live comfortably and without the assistance of others.

Inventory: .357 magnum revolver, assault carbine, combat armor, motorcycle helmet, and a few Stimpaks

Tagged skills (most useful skill): Speech, Guns, Survival

Extra info: Has difficulty walking after twisting his ankle while on the run. Never fully healed, but he can still manage to move… just not too quickly.
Are there still openings? This would be my first RP...
Could I be a taxi-driver in New York? Would you be able to do anything interesting with that?
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