Fireside Chat
The fire was small and compact, but bright enough that it illuminated the figures that gathered around it. Some manner of dinner had been eaten, by those that needed the sustenance. The various shuffling and rummaging of packs being organized and bedrolls being situated were the only sounds in the cool, dark night.
Rocket, practically bubbling with excitement, stood up and gave an awkward half-skip to the fire. She eyed her new companions—maybe future friends—with wry twinkle in her eye. “Let’s talk about us,” she said. “If we’re going to make this journey together, then we might need to know more than each other’s names.” If she even knew their names. She hadn’t managed to nag everyone in the caravan, and maybe had spent a bit too much time needling her bodyguard. Soldier just rolled his eyes and sighed.
“I’m Roxanne Cassom, but everyone calls me Rocket for very rude reasons, but the name stuck. I like it.” She paused for just a beat. “Not for the rude reasons, but because technology is fascinating. Don’t you think it’s fascinating?” She eyed Legs. “And before you ask, I truly don’t know what is in the package. It’s a mystery to me too.” A mystery she wanted to solve—desperately. “So, let’s go around and talk about ourselves. Ask questions. It’s good to know what we’re capable of incase we get into a fight.” She pretended to draw up in fisticuffs. “I’m terrible at fighting.”
A silence followed.
A blonde laying on top of her bedroll barked a laugh. "What, no volunteers?" She pulled herself into a sitting position.
"Hey, everyone, my name is Sylvia Bailey, and I'm an alcoholic." She was smirking while she paused, flittering her eyes from member to member for a second or two. "Now here's the part where you all say, 'Hi, Sylvia.' Right? Then we go around in a circle and try to figure out good reasons for why we're in the middle of nowhere with a box rigged to explode and havin' to protect some princess without a clue." Her smirk turned into a smile directed at Roxanne. She spoke coolly and with a friendly southern accent.
"I'll start: I need the money."
Don't we all? Real question is, what do you need it for?, T thought to himself. He noted she appeared jittery, like an addict, and his HUD listed the woman in turn: "POSSIBLE ADDICT?" and "MAY NEED DRUG MONEY" are added to the list.
Sylvia paused, before looking at the super mutant curiously. She pointed at him.
"You next, I think."
"You're an addict, not an alcoholic." Frankie muttered to himself, without thinking. The super mutant was sitting a short distance away from the others, so as to not make them nervous or worried. He looked up from his puzzle ball, tiny in his hands, and realized he had been pointed out. He didn't seem to know that he had spoken his thoughts outloud. His voice was obviously pitched to be soft and gentle, though it still came across as rough and harsh.
Sylvia blinked, but otherwise didn't react to the super mutants comment, though inside she noted down that she didn't like him. Instead just contiuned to point at him to prompt an answer until he reacted.
"Oh. My name is Frankie. At least, it is what I was told when I finished changing. I come from farther north, in what used to be Arkansas. Left my warband there and traveled here and started helping people. The peach paint is to help differentiate me from other super mutants, and give me some time while people are confused to explain that I'm not going to hurt them. I'm here because its the best way to go through the rest of the Swampland without having to do what I did here."
"The money is secondary as I both have little to no need for what it can buy, and most places won't sell to a super mutant. I can fight, but will only do so if someone's life is threatened. Which, I suppose, means every time this caravan is attacked. If I have to fight I can subdue most threats non-lethally, as I am stronger than humans and much more durable than them. It is likely that I'll be the first shot at, however, given my species reputation and my size. My most valuable asset, aside my status as a bullet magnet, is my medical knowledge.
"I think I used to be a doctor before the virus, but I'm not sure. The memories are hazy and fragmented. I've spent years studying and practicing medicine, however, and can patch you up and even do surgery if I have the right equipment. Provided that you allow me to, of course. Though, if you're unconscious I'll assume you'll want to live and work on you. I also have a working knowledge of the various other sciences, if those ever become necessary in our travels."
He gave a tiny shrug, focusing back on his puzzle ball, and seemed to try to make himself smaller and more unnoticeable.
T made a note of this one: "SUPER MUTANT DOCTOR?" And "POSSIBLE FEV DEVIATION" were added to his virtual file.
"Bah, fools. The lot of them." Franz would state before spitting into the fire. "Any merchant who doesn't take the caps of a well-meaning customer isn't worth his weight in Nuka-Cola. But you, my mutant friend, need to re-examine your priorities as well. Caps being an afterthought is unthinkable!" Frankie's only reply was to shrug again. The smaller man would poke the campfire's kindling with his oak staff, trying to revitalize the flames. He would stare at the others around him before he continued to speak. "You may all call me Franz, if only because the Governor has paid for the privilege. Any other information comes at a premium!" he would state with a wheezing laugh. He would extend his open right palm towards Felix's direction, signalling that Franz wanted him to go next.
Nearly ten seconds pass before Felix could notice Franz's signal to him. "Oh. Sorry. Its just that I've never seen somethin- er -someone like Frankie before...no offense big guy." He turns to the aforementioned super mutant and offers an apologetic smile. Frankie waved a hand in a friendly manner, dismissing any problems. Felix looks back to the group and lets out a sigh and begins to speak.
"Hello everyone. I'm Felix. Felix Bordelon. I'm in my early twenties, uhh, I like eating things like cram and salisbury steak, and my favorite color is red." Felix felt that his welcome was a little too generic and tries to lighten the mood with a little joke, "Ah! And I like long walks in the beach, quiet nights, and deep conversations." The silence that followed was by far the most quiet the night had been. Even the fire grew slightly quieter upon hearing the lame attempt to get people to laugh.
T's HUD unconsciously makes a note: "HUMOR: BELOW AVERAGE, NEEDS WORK".
Sylvia laughed quietly, but it was probably at Felix rather than with him.
Felix feels rather embarrased for saying the joke and just opts to look at the fire quietly while waiting for someone else to speak so that he could feel less ashamed.
Frankie paused a moment in his puzzle ball eyebrows coming together in minor confusion, considering what Felix had said, then his eyes widened in realization and he chuckled in amusement. "That was funny."
Not too far away, the ham-fisted bruiser known as Joe Sawyer had just finished helping some of the other caravaneers set up camp for the night. He had been casting the occasional glance at the folks around the campfire who were all socializing: a younger girl with dark skin and darker hair, a blonde woman who was a few years his junior, a young brown-haired man who was at least a decade younger than him, an older looking guy in, might he say, a damn fine coat, and a super mutant. One of these things was not like the other...
Dusting off his calloused hands, the big lug sighed in contentment with a job well done as he approached the fire. He just watched and listened for a moment, until there was a lull in the conversation; this was the perfect time to drop in.
"Pleasure to meet y'all," he began, "we got any beers 'round here? Been aching for a brew since I left the Port."
The previously mentioned blonde woman, Sylvia, glanced up at the walking callous. "No, you're supposed to start with your name, and then say you're an alcoholic. Not the other way around."
After a moment of silence from both himself and the others, he chuckled softly, shaking his head and slapping a torso-sized hand to his forehead. "Where're my manners? Here I am askin' for a beer and y'all don't even know my name. The name's Sawyer, Joseph Sawyer. Most people call me Joe."
Felix looks up from the fire and offers the man named Joe a curt nod and a friendly smile and offers him a seat near the fire.
T's record updates on closer inspection: "BRUISER", "NICE SENSE OF STYLE".
"Manners sh'manners," a husk of a voice intoned, bitterly sweet and laced to the brim with light mockery, all compounded within a mirth ridden smile with stains and all. "Real question is who has the good stuff, I know one of you blokes has got to be packin' something good."
Vix Blackwater sauntered her way on closer to the small gathering, slim and simple gestures fanning faint wisps of smoke as she made her debut. It was endearingly familiar with every crackle and pop of wood and flame as she laced her inked arms at her bust and promptly rocked back on her heels, seemingly at ease.
"Name's Vix, ah," she paused, the pout of her lip flush with the bone of her teeth as she toiled within thought. "Hm. Just Vix, yeah that'll do." Another smile coupled her introduction, her grin carved into her smudged cheeks.
Sully had watched everyone else intently, each person sharing a different level of detail of themselves. He wasn't necessarilly someone who shared or opened up to others about himself, so rather than go for a generic introduction, he opted for a story.
As the rather uncouth Vix finished, Sully emerged from the darkness into the light provided by the roaring fire. "It was ten years ago, just a simple case of find the farmers missing daughter. A group of three of us went searching and by time we found what was left of the girl, she was nothing but a skeleton covered in the occassional scrap of flesh." He paused briefly to look at the floor, his story bringing back the terrible memories.
As he raised his head he continued on. "So anyway, we returned to the farmer and gave him the news. He was distraught as you would expect, but as we are giving him the news we can hear this rattling from underneath his house. As one of my guys went to look he was swarmed by the biggest group of molerats you have seen in your life. They ripped him to shreds before he could even get a shot off. I unloaded my guns quicker than I had ever before. By time i'd finished the ground was littered with the corpses of twenty full grown molerats."
With the trauma leading to anger Sully stood to his feet and began pointing towards the floor with a deep seated rage. "I am telling you all now, if I see one of those fuckers I am going to put a hole right into it's god damn face! I don't care if we are sneaking through the most dangerous of bandit areas or if we are near a deathclaw lair, I'm going to waste each and every one of those little pricks."
With the last word from his mouth he took a deep breath to calm himself, sitting back down. "Now that's out of the way, my name is Sully. I'm quite handy at hunting and am a decent shot with this." Using his thumb Sully gestured at his rifle, Widowmaker, slung over his shoulder.
"Ya got a flair for the dramatic," the walking brick wall known as Joe began after Sully finished his introduction. He chuckled slightly, continuing "Don't mean it wasn't one helluva story. Reminds me of the time I had to clear out a molerat nest with nothin' but molerat bait," he put forth his hands, "and my mitts. Y'all could probably tell just by lookin' at me that I'm a fan of usin' my mitts."
Sully grinned, although his gas mask hid it from everyone around the campfire. "It does seem that way. I have seen some sights on my hunts but I don't think i've seen anyone quite as 'broken' as you appear." Sully gestured with his fingers as he said broken, not intending to offend. "What I mean is I have never seen someone with so much scar tissue. I have my fair share but what you seem to have...it's a different level."
Hesitating for a moment, Sully lifted the mask from his face to show the scar that stretched down over his milky white left eye. "This fucker was from a yao guai who cornered me when I was younger. He left me blind in the left eye but I had the last laugh...i'm wearing the son of a bitch." Sully gestured at his leather jacket, the fur lining around the neck taken from the long dead creature.
"You know, Sullivan, you strike me as someone who's really got it all figured out. Easy to laugh, quicker to smile, who's got his priorities straight." Sylvia said, stifling a laugh. She looked over his shoulder into the darkness behind him.
"Watch out, a molerat!" She pointed into the empty shadows.
Sully glared at Sylvia, anger written over his face, much like it always was. Still, a laugh soon broke out as he stared at her. "You can make your jokes all you want, but I know an addict when I see one." He leaned closer as continued speaking. "If I were you i'd keep an eye on your stash, you wouldn't want it going missing while you sleep." The smile on his face verged on evil as he pulled his mask back down over his face.
Sylvia wafted her hand infront of her and made a face as he leaned closer. "Phew! I think I'd smell you before I heard you- no wonder you need that gas mask." She giggled quietly. On the inside she wondered why everyone was accusing her of being a Jet addict. She wasn't- not really.
"Enough. Antagonizing each other won't do anything but serve as a detriment to our mission. We all want our caps, we all want to live, and this is important enough that its set to explode for a variety of reasons. Which means its important enough that others will want it. Save your vexation and energy for them." Frankie broke his silence, without looking from his puzzleball. He doubted his words would have an effect, but someone had to try before things got ugly.
"The master race has spoken!" Sylvia said magnanimously raising her hands in mock deference to Frankie.
Soldier rolled his eyes at that comment, sitting there with his arms across his chest. He hadn't said anything, and wasn't going to volunteer himself. They knew what they needed to know. Rocket on the other hand was a mixture of awe and discontent at how everyone was nipping at each other like stray dogs.
Frankie frowned, his mouth opening to correct her statement, when Joe spoke up.
Frowning slightly at where the conversation was going, Joe took it upon himself to try and change the topic before it got too heated. "Hey buddy," he said to the uncanny looking young man in a duster who had just been watching the conversation, "Care to introduce yourself? And maybe tell me where you got that damn fine coat you're wearing?"
T, having been an observer the whole time in an effort to gather data, decided to disable his HUD for now and respond, like a normal human being. Or, at least, a human being trapped in a fake body.
"Hello, all. I am T." He says, giving a small wave. "Let me just be perfectly honest and upfront: I'm a robot."
"... But what about the coat?"
"Oh, it's custom made. Tailor back in Boston made it for me." T replies. "... Nice coat, yourself."
"Thanks, got it off some guy that was beating up on a dame back in Shreve's Port," Joe replies, examining his coat as well.
"Aw, coat buddies!" Sylvia drew her hands to her face like she just saw a cute dog.
Felix looks at T rather skeptically after he blatantly claimed that he was a robot. Though after looking closely at the man in question for a few seconds, Felix nods to affirm his claim. Felix also couldn't help but silently admit that T and Joe had damn fine coats...well coats that were fancier looking than his hooded field jacket.
Rocket's face lit up at the mention of T being a robot. She had overheard her father discussing that one of the members was a synth, and she'd been silently speculating as to who it was. She knew who it wasn't, the actual robot, the supermutant, and Soldier. The rest seemed possible.
She exhaled, noting that both Soldier and Legs had opted out of speaking. That was fine. She'd learned more than she ever thought she would in a few short minutes. "Thanks," she said, maybe a bit too loudly. "I appreciate that. I don't think that things will be easy going forward, and I at least wanted everyone to have a moment--stress free--to talk." Though, the situation may have stressed a few of them out. She eyed Frankie as she thought about that. "This mission means a lot to my father, and as such a lot to Louisiana." She hoped. Honestly, Rocket was concerned. Something felt off about this all.
She gave quick glance at the caravan before returning to her seat around the fire.
Simple Unicycle
