Just a reminder, Ryan is the owner of the Cracked Glass and Brian is the bouncer. @Kingslee, I saw you write Brian as the owner.
Ah, thank you. I don't suppose Ryan also has an Irish accent? xD
Kingslee
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Ah, thank you. I don't suppose Ryan also has an Irish accent? xD
<Snipped quote by Kingslee>
We have ghouls, super mutants, radscorpions, etc., and you're worried about red hair lol. XD
On another note, not sure yet which path ill take. Ill see what everyone else does first.
Ha, you have a point.
Cool! If we want Joel and Johnny Cash to cross paths again it should be pretty damn easy. They move in similar circles. :D
Joel Woods - The Desperado - Evening
Joel sidestepped once more, the crazed woman’s machete missing his shoulder by a couple of inches. At this stage he was giving serious thought to just pulling his Glock and gunning her down. That was before Chomsky sprang into action, biting down on the woman's forearm and causing her to scream and raise up the machete. Joel pulled his Glock 17 quicker than he ever had before, ready and willing to blow a hole through the woman's face before she could put one in Chomsky. He squeezed the trigger a millisecond after he saw a bright red flash in his peripheral vision. The laser explained why the cranium his 9mm round was about to bore through was no longer there. Fearing that the lasers actual target was him and had just missed he quickly rotated, aiming his gun at the woman with the laser rifle. It took him barely a second to figure out that she wasn’t a raider, even in the midst of all this chaos she was blatantly void of all the tell-tale signs of such a person. He lowered his gun quickly and gave a nod of gratitude.
He watched as the man in the suit lit a cigarette from some of the flames and leaned down to pet and praise Chomsky.
“Good boy, indeed.” Joel smirked, following the man in black to the bar, only stopping a few times to lean down and check the pulses of non-raiders who he wasn’t sure were definitely dead. Most were, but one young looking lad had a faint pulse.
“I would take that bottle to go friend, unless you desire burn scars…” He spoke plainly, turning to the redheaded woman. “Thanks for the assist. Both of you. Now I need to go and give my employer some bad news.”
With that he put his handgun away and hoisted the unconscious lad onto his shoulder, grunting with effort as he made his way out the door, Chomsky following behind him. He got about a quarter way down the street and dumped the lad down against a building on the side of the road. He’d done as much as he was willing to for a stranger. He thought about going to tell his employer about the loss of the casino in person but decided against it. It was getting late and his apartment was closer anyway. So he headed home, reaching it in about ten minutes at a walking pace. He nodded to the Lazzari soldiers stood guard at the entrance of his apartment complex, walking straight through. A lot of mid-level Lazzari guys had safe houses there so they made sure they were always at least somewhat protected. He headed up to the third floor and went into his apartment, yawning as he took his AK-47 off and placed it against the wall. He’d have to clean it soon. He took his mask off and put it down inside the locker, picking up his phone immediately after and dialing the number of yet another casino, it being answered after several rings.
“Yeah?” The same voice as earlier asked.
“I killed the raiders but they had a serious arsenal. Grenades, molotovs, laser and plasma weaponry, even a damn flamer… Unless you can get a couple dozen men over there with a ton of water immediately that place is lost.” Joel said in monotone, attempting to steel his temper for the obnoxious man’s incoming outburst.
“Lost!? It’s a fuckin’ casino, not a goddamn bottlecap! I paid you to-”
“You paid me to kill. I killed. The rest is on you.”
Joel hung up.
Joel Woods - Home - Morning
Joel awoke, frantically grabbing the revolver he kept under his pillow and jumping out of bed, waving the piece around the room, sweating and hyperventilating. He’d been dreaming of being tied to a cross, but the cross wasn’t upright, it was laid on the ground and as he’d been looking around scared shitless and unable to move a small group of legionaries surrounded him and began hacking at him with machetes.
Standing still and taking deep breaths for about a minute allowed him to calm, after which he tossed the revolver onto his pillow and picked up the sweat drenched towel he’d been sleeping on. He turned it over to the dryer side and wiped himself down. By the time the phone rang his heart rate was back to normal, but it still made him jump. He closed his eyes and sighed.
A second later he answered the phone, hoping it would be one of his siblings.
“Hello.” Joel said, forcing some enthusiasm into his voice just in case it was family.
“Hello there Joel, it’s Ryan from the Cracked Glass.”
“Ah, I thought it might of been one of the many other Irishmen I know.” Joel spoke coldly, the emotion had disappeared from his voice as quickly as it’d arrived.
Ryan feigned a chuckle, one that did nothing to hide the inclination that he’d grown tired of that particular reply a decade or three ago.
“What can I do for you?”
“Might have some work for you is all. Well, a friend by the name of Redding does. Can you come to the pub to meet with him?”
“All right. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Joel hung up, but immediately dialed another number.
“Hello?” A familiar voice answered.
“Hey Sammy!” Joel’s smile beamed down the phone.
“Joel! What’s up!?” Sammy asked excitedly.
“You know, same old, same old. How you doing little brother? Mom not home?”
“We’re doing well! I’ve been reading about the Canadians before the Great War! And no, she’s at work. Sewing or some such for the apparel merchant.”
“Fair enough. Canadians, huh? Is it interesting stuff?” Joel asked, smiling continuously.
“Yes! It’s also sad though. The United States annexed the country because they wanted more of the resources and to be able to better protect the oil there since most of its supply came from Canada. They kept taking more and more though and some of the natives who were already worried about there being so many foreign troops in the country became incredibly frustrated. Rightfully so if I’m understanding correctly. Resources were becoming extremely scarce. As tensions rose protests started and resistance groups gained popularity… The U.S troops apparently began shooting both rioters and protesters on sight a little later on, which further fueled support for the resistance. There were a lot of atrocities, some of which were documented and made their way back here in the form of photos and such. That caused further unrest here as well as over there… Is that what happened in Nevada? Was there resistance from the natives due to the NCR wanting the power from the Dam and such?”
Joel half smiled, thinking. “I don’t really know, little man. I was mostly in the desert fighting enemy soldiers. The people stationed in New Vegas would know more about that. I heard some of the locals just outside of Vegas were angry about all the NCR citizens that were settling around there. It was a pretty poor area and they didn’t have much to go around. I heard that got sorted though. NCR and a local family started working together to feed both settlers and locals in the area and make sure any violence was put to a swift end. Tensions dropped a lot after that I’m told. That was before we were pushed out though, I’m not sure how things went afterwards. Hopefully there wasn’t too much chaos… Anyway, I’m heading out shortly, but I’ll meet up with you soon. You still want to learn how to hunt?”
“Hell yeah!” The boy replied excitedly.
“All right. First you’ll need to learn how to shoot. I’ll see if I can’t get my hands on a low calibre rifle for you. Don’t go anywhere without me!”
“I won’t!”
“Good lad. I’ll see you soon bro. Tell the others I said hi.”
The highlight of his week over, Joel got dressed and strapped on his kevlar vest, sheaths and holsters. After holstering his two handguns and grabbing his karambits and a kukri, he was ready to leave.
Joel Woods - The Cracked Glass - Morning
During the half an hour walk to the Irishman’s pub Joel thought about Redding. After his sister had died he’d made a sort of therapeutic habit out of murdering ruinous pimps and dealers. It was especially rewarding if like Redding, they were both. Once upon a time he’d stalked the man a little bit, him being a rising star in the sex game and all. Whilst gathering some intel on him he’d ran into some of his sister's old friends/co-workers though. Redding was a known asshole, and he’d kill you as easily as near any other thug in the town, but apparently when it came to pimping he was actually known to be quite benevolent. Well, as much as you could be in such a role. So Joel never did attempt to kill him and actually met him for other reasons over the years.
Reaching his destination Joel pushed the door to the dingy little bar open and went inside. He stood still for a few seconds waiting for his eyes to adjust to the far dimmer lighting. When they did he spotted Redding almost immediately. It wasn’t too often you saw someone with red hair, unless they’d dyed it somehow. Casually strolling up to the bar Joel took a seat down next to him, nodding a greeting at Ryan.
“Nuka Cola please boss.” With that his eyes drifted over to what would likely be his next employer. “You look worse than me and I had to fight a crazy, drugged up raider queen armed with a flamer and a fucking machete last night… So, who do you want me to kill?”
Joel sidestepped once more, the crazed woman’s machete missing his shoulder by a couple of inches. At this stage he was giving serious thought to just pulling his Glock and gunning her down. That was before Chomsky sprang into action, biting down on the woman's forearm and causing her to scream and raise up the machete. Joel pulled his Glock 17 quicker than he ever had before, ready and willing to blow a hole through the woman's face before she could put one in Chomsky. He squeezed the trigger a millisecond after he saw a bright red flash in his peripheral vision. The laser explained why the cranium his 9mm round was about to bore through was no longer there. Fearing that the lasers actual target was him and had just missed he quickly rotated, aiming his gun at the woman with the laser rifle. It took him barely a second to figure out that she wasn’t a raider, even in the midst of all this chaos she was blatantly void of all the tell-tale signs of such a person. He lowered his gun quickly and gave a nod of gratitude.
He watched as the man in the suit lit a cigarette from some of the flames and leaned down to pet and praise Chomsky.
“Good boy, indeed.” Joel smirked, following the man in black to the bar, only stopping a few times to lean down and check the pulses of non-raiders who he wasn’t sure were definitely dead. Most were, but one young looking lad had a faint pulse.
“I would take that bottle to go friend, unless you desire burn scars…” He spoke plainly, turning to the redheaded woman. “Thanks for the assist. Both of you. Now I need to go and give my employer some bad news.”
With that he put his handgun away and hoisted the unconscious lad onto his shoulder, grunting with effort as he made his way out the door, Chomsky following behind him. He got about a quarter way down the street and dumped the lad down against a building on the side of the road. He’d done as much as he was willing to for a stranger. He thought about going to tell his employer about the loss of the casino in person but decided against it. It was getting late and his apartment was closer anyway. So he headed home, reaching it in about ten minutes at a walking pace. He nodded to the Lazzari soldiers stood guard at the entrance of his apartment complex, walking straight through. A lot of mid-level Lazzari guys had safe houses there so they made sure they were always at least somewhat protected. He headed up to the third floor and went into his apartment, yawning as he took his AK-47 off and placed it against the wall. He’d have to clean it soon. He took his mask off and put it down inside the locker, picking up his phone immediately after and dialing the number of yet another casino, it being answered after several rings.
“Yeah?” The same voice as earlier asked.
“I killed the raiders but they had a serious arsenal. Grenades, molotovs, laser and plasma weaponry, even a damn flamer… Unless you can get a couple dozen men over there with a ton of water immediately that place is lost.” Joel said in monotone, attempting to steel his temper for the obnoxious man’s incoming outburst.
“Lost!? It’s a fuckin’ casino, not a goddamn bottlecap! I paid you to-”
“You paid me to kill. I killed. The rest is on you.”
Joel hung up.
Joel Woods - Home - Morning
Joel awoke, frantically grabbing the revolver he kept under his pillow and jumping out of bed, waving the piece around the room, sweating and hyperventilating. He’d been dreaming of being tied to a cross, but the cross wasn’t upright, it was laid on the ground and as he’d been looking around scared shitless and unable to move a small group of legionaries surrounded him and began hacking at him with machetes.
Standing still and taking deep breaths for about a minute allowed him to calm, after which he tossed the revolver onto his pillow and picked up the sweat drenched towel he’d been sleeping on. He turned it over to the dryer side and wiped himself down. By the time the phone rang his heart rate was back to normal, but it still made him jump. He closed his eyes and sighed.
A second later he answered the phone, hoping it would be one of his siblings.
“Hello.” Joel said, forcing some enthusiasm into his voice just in case it was family.
“Hello there Joel, it’s Ryan from the Cracked Glass.”
“Ah, I thought it might of been one of the many other Irishmen I know.” Joel spoke coldly, the emotion had disappeared from his voice as quickly as it’d arrived.
Ryan feigned a chuckle, one that did nothing to hide the inclination that he’d grown tired of that particular reply a decade or three ago.
“What can I do for you?”
“Might have some work for you is all. Well, a friend by the name of Redding does. Can you come to the pub to meet with him?”
“All right. I’ll be there in an hour.”
Joel hung up, but immediately dialed another number.
“Hello?” A familiar voice answered.
“Hey Sammy!” Joel’s smile beamed down the phone.
“Joel! What’s up!?” Sammy asked excitedly.
“You know, same old, same old. How you doing little brother? Mom not home?”
“We’re doing well! I’ve been reading about the Canadians before the Great War! And no, she’s at work. Sewing or some such for the apparel merchant.”
“Fair enough. Canadians, huh? Is it interesting stuff?” Joel asked, smiling continuously.
“Yes! It’s also sad though. The United States annexed the country because they wanted more of the resources and to be able to better protect the oil there since most of its supply came from Canada. They kept taking more and more though and some of the natives who were already worried about there being so many foreign troops in the country became incredibly frustrated. Rightfully so if I’m understanding correctly. Resources were becoming extremely scarce. As tensions rose protests started and resistance groups gained popularity… The U.S troops apparently began shooting both rioters and protesters on sight a little later on, which further fueled support for the resistance. There were a lot of atrocities, some of which were documented and made their way back here in the form of photos and such. That caused further unrest here as well as over there… Is that what happened in Nevada? Was there resistance from the natives due to the NCR wanting the power from the Dam and such?”
Joel half smiled, thinking. “I don’t really know, little man. I was mostly in the desert fighting enemy soldiers. The people stationed in New Vegas would know more about that. I heard some of the locals just outside of Vegas were angry about all the NCR citizens that were settling around there. It was a pretty poor area and they didn’t have much to go around. I heard that got sorted though. NCR and a local family started working together to feed both settlers and locals in the area and make sure any violence was put to a swift end. Tensions dropped a lot after that I’m told. That was before we were pushed out though, I’m not sure how things went afterwards. Hopefully there wasn’t too much chaos… Anyway, I’m heading out shortly, but I’ll meet up with you soon. You still want to learn how to hunt?”
“Hell yeah!” The boy replied excitedly.
“All right. First you’ll need to learn how to shoot. I’ll see if I can’t get my hands on a low calibre rifle for you. Don’t go anywhere without me!”
“I won’t!”
“Good lad. I’ll see you soon bro. Tell the others I said hi.”
The highlight of his week over, Joel got dressed and strapped on his kevlar vest, sheaths and holsters. After holstering his two handguns and grabbing his karambits and a kukri, he was ready to leave.
Joel Woods - The Cracked Glass - Morning
During the half an hour walk to the Irishman’s pub Joel thought about Redding. After his sister had died he’d made a sort of therapeutic habit out of murdering ruinous pimps and dealers. It was especially rewarding if like Redding, they were both. Once upon a time he’d stalked the man a little bit, him being a rising star in the sex game and all. Whilst gathering some intel on him he’d ran into some of his sister's old friends/co-workers though. Redding was a known asshole, and he’d kill you as easily as near any other thug in the town, but apparently when it came to pimping he was actually known to be quite benevolent. Well, as much as you could be in such a role. So Joel never did attempt to kill him and actually met him for other reasons over the years.
Reaching his destination Joel pushed the door to the dingy little bar open and went inside. He stood still for a few seconds waiting for his eyes to adjust to the far dimmer lighting. When they did he spotted Redding almost immediately. It wasn’t too often you saw someone with red hair, unless they’d dyed it somehow. Casually strolling up to the bar Joel took a seat down next to him, nodding a greeting at Ryan.
“Nuka Cola please boss.” With that his eyes drifted over to what would likely be his next employer. “You look worse than me and I had to fight a crazy, drugged up raider queen armed with a flamer and a fucking machete last night… So, who do you want me to kill?”
I just realized whilst writing my post how unlikely it'd be to have two redheads among us. Only 2% of the worlds population have natural red hair apparently, so after the great war I assume those particular genetics would be virtually extinct, haha.
Cool, he'll be down for the first couple. I don't think I've been around long enough to have read about the bounty. Who's Rickman and why does Donna Lazzari want him dead? I imagine those are questions Joel should already have the answers to.
I'll get something up in the morning, it'll probably end with Joel in the Cracked Glass. Redding nodded off long enough for it to be the next day/morning, right?
<Snipped quote by Kingslee>
lol. but i needs a drink!! Couple grenades and molotovs wont bring down an entire casino, though. Some walls yeah, but they have pretty thick concrete. Speaking from real experience, I used to work construction on the strip (las vegas).
Awesome! Maybe Joel has a chance of getting paid after all! Haha.
Ha! Dallen should probably have that drink to go, I'm not too confident about the Desperado's current structural integrity.
Cool, sounds good to me.
Aye, makes sense that he would be. Can I have the guy call Joel when he's at home? Maybe to a meeting at the bar to meet Redding.
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