Miss Vicious , Her saga and story... Options

[Renee]

Chapter One: Miss Vicious Delicious

Date: August 19, 2277, 11:06 AM

Location: VAPL-66 Power Station

They called them raiders, Takana and Neeptu. Social and demographic miscreants who nobody would touch. Nobody would accept. Not the Enclave. Not even Talon Company. Collectively, they were groups of young adults who lived each day as though it'd be their very last. Because often it was their very last.

As the Psycho they'd squeezed into their arms took brilliant effect, both of them were sizzling.

The common misfit known as Neeptu Daalu steadied himself, and squinted his eyes. "See? See her now?" he asked his partner. "Told ya there's a wastelander out there! The little b----. Look how she's dressed. In a freeking Parkstroller! Prob'ly good for a few caps." He was speaking loudly, his booming voice being echoed by a nearby overpass.

"Haah? I don't see a thing," said Takana Topov, Neeptu's partner. Takana had done well as a dancer, far away at Dukov's place. But she'd done even better as a thief.

Together, Takana and Neeptu had plotted to steal hundreds of caps from her former employer. And they had been successful at this. In fact, the job had been easy. Neeptu pretended to be a john while Takana depleted some of Dukov's stash of cash. It was over in less than a minute, their getaway boat floating just meters away. Then the good life had begun. They'd finally been able to afford Psycho, Jet, and all sorts of other goodies, which had been clouding their judgment for days.

"Ya need some glasses!" Neeptu announced. "C'mon, just follow me!"

The pair scrambled off. They readied their pieces: Takana's pistol went *clink!*, and Neeptu's went *shink!* ... but neither of them could possibly know their prey was not some gentle lamb who'd cry and run.

"Oh hell no!" The lady in the Parkstroller brandished her only weapon, a rusted old iron tool.

She went to work. Jumping, hopping, and skipping around the raiders and their clumsy efforts at gun play. ...Bam! ... Crash!... At close quarters, their Chinese pistols were next to useless. The lady in the Parkstroller might never be as good with a hand weapon as the cannibalistic fiend known as Rattler, but as a member of the 'raider' demographic herself, neither was she somebody to try messing with.

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

Takana Topov

Neeptu Daalu takes a beating

"Oh hell no!"

Unexpected help

Goo' boy!!!

Miss Vicious Delicious throws away her Parkstroller for something new

This post has been edited by Renee: Jan 21 2022, 03:09 PM

[Renee]

Chapter 19, The Road Trip, Part 2

Friday, August 31st, 2277

Min Temp:: 69 degrees
Max Temp:: 90 degrees

The next morning started off with a bang, which thankfully exploded somewhere far away. Nowhere close to the raiders' outdoor campsite. Vicious got up off the cot she had managed to fall asleep upon the night before, said a quick prayer, and got started with whatever was to come on this warming summer day. The other raiders were still asleep all around her, either by choice or because their intake of chems and alcohol had caused them to fall over, zombified.

She gazed about for a moment. Could not find her new friend amongst the small multitude of fallen arms and limbs.

As she awoke further she grabbed a package of Mutfruit from her pack. Breakfast! She was glad she hadn't 'partied hardy' the night before, as was so common within raider society. Other than a couple beers and a couple cigs, she hadn't done anything too dangerous to her health. No Jet, no Psycho, no cocaine, no opiates. Perhaps this was due to the seriousness of their mission? She asked herself this question as she moseyed about, but was unsure if she could answer positively just yet.

She decided to take a quick inventory of all the items on her person just then.

1 - Pip-Girl 2500 personal information processor
1 - lead pipe (for combat up close)
1 - specialized shotgun. Her precious Blamhammer.
1 - 10 mm pistol
2 - frag grenades
1 - package of Brahmin Steak, and 1 Salisbury Steak
2 - cigarettes (and no pack hidden anywhere. Dammit!)
1 - Chlorazopam tablet
1 - purified water bottle
1 - Rad-X tablet
1 - package of RadAway
2 - Stealth Boys
8 - Stimpaks (their trip to Super Duper Mart two days ago had been worth it)
1 - package of YumYum Deviled Eggs
19 - bobby pins (for lockpicking)
1 - used hypodermic needle
dozens of rounds of 10 mm bullets, and over a hundred shotgun shells.

Good enough, she thought. Time to get this show on the road.

"Rise and shine Vicious." It was the male of their party, come to greet her. "I've already been up for an hour or so. Hard to sleep out here. You ready to head off?"

"Uhm..."

"Starsky's my name, by the way. Starsky Nathaniel Hutch. My momma used to say I was named after some TV action stars from way when, or something."

"Uh-huh. So... have you seen Bratty?" Vicious did a quick look around on her tiptoes, looking all around the small, irradiated pond they'd camped by.

Starsky N. Hutch made a face. "Do we really need to bring her along?" he asked. "Seriously. I am going to be blunt with you now, and you know why I'm asking this. Why did you include her at all?"

Vicious said nothing. Looked to the ground, biting her inner cheek. Two cigarettes, she thought, trying not to fidget.

"Seriously," he repeated. "She's a liability. She's undisciplined. She's a loudmouth. And she pissed me off royally yesterday. We could just leave her here, okay? Just leave her here for a day or two, while we head north to Germantown. Pick her back up as we head back to the school. She got so drunk last night, probably wouldn't know the difference." Starsky was smirking.

"Yeah, but she's my friend," Vicious muttered. She lit up just then, losing her personal nicotine battle for the morning. "I know she's a handful and stuff. But she's a loyal friend. My only friend, in all this mess of a world we live in. And I would disagree somewhat with your assessment of her. Yes she's a loudmouth, but she was the only one who actually volunteered to come along. None of those others wanted the mission. Even Q Tip."

Starsky shrugged. Made another face. "Q Tip's more of an administrative sort of guy.... a pawn, really."

"Plus, she got an actual gun," Vicious ignored. "A machine gun, in relatively good condition. Even though it is a mutt, I'd rather have her firepower at my side than your cheap-ass combat knife. No offense."

"Hey, you're the boss," Starsky put his hands up, surrendering his side of the argument. "And I wouldn't discount my talents with a knife just yet, Miss Vicious."

"Well come on then. Help me find the *stitch*."

9:25 am
Vicious searched all around the campsite, not just for her friend, but also for any sort of weapon she could find, then give to Starsky. Unfortunately, there was nothing laying about. No guns, no bombs. And she was not about to try stealing anything from one of the sleeping raiders. Oh well, I tried. It's his funeral, I guess, thought she.

They eventually did locate the girl from Jersey, a-lay on an old, dusty bedroll. Bratty had passed out at some undetermined time. She still smelled of last night's booze. As Vicious attempted again and again to wake the gal up, she almost did consider Starsky N. Hutch's words more seriously. They could just leave her here. Like she'd know the difference after waking up around noon, or so.

But Vicious did not give up. Call it persistence, call it stubbornness, she simply would not leave her unprincipled chum behind.

As they began walking north, a soft rain began to fall. Blessedly cool and also rad-free. Bratty had been coughing and sputtering like an old hag up until then, trying to wake up. But also determined to wake up, so she could participate with the others. The rain was a good thing, Vicious thought. It seemed to help.

She consulted her Pip-Girl 2500. Switched on its locational map (causing a 212 year-old solar-powered satellite 17 miles above the Earth to beam information). She noted that Germantown Police Department was not too far away. Maybe a quarter mile. Great. They'd be able to get inside the place by afternoon, then. As they walked north, they encountered a centaur, and then a supermutant, both of which were disposed of easily. Up a small hill was Hallowed Moore Cemetery. Another centaur and a half-dozen mutants were there. Again, they didn't stand a chance against the three raiders from Springvale.

"Damn, we is good!" The brat, now fully awake.

"Here take this," Vicious said to Starsky. "You do know how to shoot, right?"

"I know how shoot," he said defensively. "Just 'cause I prefer my knife don't mean I don't know how to shoot."

"Well two those mutants had rifles, and looks like got a few rounds, too. You take all these, then. And maybe we'll get you some more ammo inside. Place we're goin' is a police station, after all."

"You're the boss."

The trio began to walk north again. Vicious consulted the Global Positioning Satellite in her Pip-Girl's map several times. Finally, the place they were looking for was just ahead. As they neared the place something exploded, about a thousand feet to their left. This caused the three of them to stop for a moment. In the distance they could now see what had caused the explosion. Somebody was over there, shooting up cars.

"Yo, is that dude wearin' a policeman's outfit?"

"Yeah, I can see him too!"

"Is that a ghoul? Why would a ghoul be out here, dressed like a policeman, and blowing up cars?"

"Just another day in the Capitol Wasteland," their leader muttered. Her two companions silently agreed.


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

Morning Mutfruit

Starsky N. Hutch in action!

Blamhammering a supermutant


Notes: Miss Vicious attained Level 3 today, woo hoo! I dumped a lot of points into Sneak, and chose Thief for her perk. Going for a stealthy type, once again.

This post has been edited by Renee: May 23 2021, 06:10 PM