Miss Vicious Delicious, 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

[SubRosa]

Nice all outs to Dukov and the Rattler *shudder*

Miss Delicious is definitely vicious!

Who let the dogs out!

Vicious is a bombshell. Or at least her armor is.

[Lopov]

Wow, Vicious Delicious gets her own thread even!

Takana Topov!

Vicious definitely looks much better in the raider armor. Now if she can only find some better weapon.

Is she Dead-is-dead?

[Acadian]

Very fun reading this from the ambushers' perspective!

Wow, they sure learned the hard way not judge a woman by her outfit! Speaking of outfits, looks like Takana's coconut cups fit Vicious perfectly.

[Renee]

SubRoea: Fortunately, Rattler will be spoken of in this tale from afar! Let's hope, anyway.

Lopov: Me and my silly names. Vicious is not DiD because I'm writing this story about her, and also making a mod idea which she'll basically be the tester for. As you know, I can't just roll a Test character like you.

Acadian: I got inspired to write from their perspective first for some reason. Raiders are similar to bandits in Elder Scrolls games. They haven't got the money or know-how for the more expensive heavy armor often worn by marauders, nor are they trying to gain knowledge as conjurers and necromancers do in their pursuit of magic. Vicious herself was a raider, and is unsure of her future.

I'm going to try to write this today, although my Inspiration is low. My Logitech keyboard is starting to get that feeling, you know? Like maybe it'll soon be time to head back to Office Depot! It's keys aren't quite so springy, lately. Maybe today's tale will be a shorty.

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



Date: August 20, 2277, 9:24 AM


Some things, you never forgot. Some things, little things, they stayed with you. In your thoughts the rest of your life.

Take the number thirteen, for instance. Thirteen, supposed to be the number of bad luck. The lady who called herself Vicious had first read about this number years before as a child, in a Grognok the Barbarian comic book episode. She herself had been the age of 13, at the time. Maybe that's why it stayed with her.

The number thirteen had been featured in that comic somehow in a bad way. As though thirteen is always akin to evil eyes, and malevolent moments, for those who encounter it. Throughout the rest of her becoming years, she'd hear about this number occasionally: from her caretaker, from some old Newsreel, from some old wastrel. So it was ironic that the impeccable structure known as Tenpenny Tower was exactly thirteen stories tall.

"My my...."

Tenpenny was the first landmark her wandering eyes were able to identify. Easy to spot, since it was so damn tall.

She first noticed the former luxury hotel as she stumbled out of a dusty dip; the armor she'd taken from that dead little b---- the day before squirming and flexing. The sight of Tenpenny Tower made her smile. Ever since she'd awoken in that shack days before, she had no idea where she was. Far to the west, for sure. But nowhere near the 'comfort zone' she was more familiar with: Megaton, Rivet City, Springvale, Big Town.

As she neared the place, she began counting its layers of windows. Thirteen. Lord have mercy. She counted again, trying to ignore the haze of hangover. Thirteen, from bottom to top. My my.

She had been to Tenpenny in the past, maybe a couple years and some odd months before. At the time, she'd been with a group of others known as Jehovah's Witnesses. Good, God-fearing Evangelist types, back when she herself was trying to figure it all out. At the age of 16, she was the youngest of the group. None of them expected any kindness from the residents of the gigantic tower (indeed, it was rare they'd manage to give out their pamphlets without somebody shooting), but Tenpenny had been much different.

She knew there'd be complications. But she could not remember exactly what these complications might be. First thing though, would be to strip away her diabolical-looking C-cup armor, and replace it with... anything else. She had left that hideous parkstroller back in that power station, glad to be rid of it, and she was not going back! Fortunately, she was able to locate a traveling brahmin merchant nearby. The merchant spoke in riddles, everything a little word game. He sold her a set of scruffy, but otherwise inoffensive, clothes. Once inside these clothes, she practically ran back to the tower, ready to deal.

"Look mate," said the guard after Vicious pressed the Tenpenny buzzer. "I thought I told you ghouls you got no place here in Tenpenny Tower. I don't care if you're feral or not. You got no place here. Now get lost."

"Well, I ain't no ghoul, fool," she raised her voice an octave or so. "It's tough out here. Hot and tough. You can't let a nice, young lady inside for a couple days?"

Well. Whatever it was, the guard behind Tenpenny's front gate relented his position, somewhat. Miss Vicious could be vicious, but she could also be delicious. She tried her tone. The guard seemed to like what he was hearing. He could let her in, if she was successful at one of two scenarios. She could either (1) pay a one-time fee of 100 caps, or (2) go on some weird ghoul-hunting rampage. Apparently there was an undergrond location full of ghouls nearby. The tower's master, a puffy-sounding fellow by the name of Lord Allistair Tenpenny, would personally make things pleasant for anyone who took care of them. Looking down at the beat-up handgun she'd acquired from one of the raiders a day ago, Vicious knew this would not be enough to take down a whole supposed platoon of underground menaces.

"Don't go nowhere. I'll be back."

Desperate to get inside, desperate for its safe walls and multitude of guarded corridors, Vicious's only option was to raid the RobCo Factory nearby. Hopefully she'd find something inside to scavenge and sell. To her credit, she already had 87 caps on her person, so it would only be a matter of pushing that cart, right over the edge.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The next day

"Isn't it wonderful living here in Tenpenny Towers? I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else in the Wasteland!"

Miss Vicious rolled her eyes at the primly-dressed debutante before her, while pleasant music played in an endless loop. "Any idea where I can buy and sell?" she asked, lighting a Lucky Strike. She hoped her cigarette might foul some of the primly-dressed debutante's perfume, or something.

Over the previous twenty-four hours, Miss Vicious had managed to scavenge all sorts of tings in a nearby RobCo factory. She used her 10 mil handgun sparingly, shooting at radroaches and a couple molerats, only when necessary. The work had been grueling and dark. And now she was ready to make back some of those hundred caps she'd had to spend to get into this dump. Had it all been worth it?

After wandering around for half an hour, finally she had found what amounted to Tenpenny's trading desk. Time to sell her wares.

"Welcome to Boutique Le Chic," announced the lady in the perfectly-tailored pink dress. Not a parkstroller, but close. "I'm Lydia Montenegro, proprietor," she said, her voice absolutely cultured. As though the magnificently dirty and dangerous Capitol Wasteland did not exist, meters outside. "Here, you'll find only the best. With a price tag you can boast about to your friends!"

"Um well see, I got this conductor for sale," Vicious began awkwardly. "And this ammo....."

"Oh, you must get out of those clothes!" a second lady interrupted, chuckling. "What are those, hand-me-downs? You should suit up into a parkstroller, and Lydia's the lady you want to speak to!"

"Hey. Mind your own damn business!" Vicious snapped, causing Lydia Montenegro and the second lady to blink. Vicious herself was also a little surprised. Really feeling awkward. Wondering, why did I come in here? Really, what did I expect?

"Excuse me," Lydia reeled. "You look like an adventurer. And we could use someone like you."

"You could?"

"Have you any interest in taking care of those ghouls?" Lydia shivered. "If they got in here, they'd get their filth on everything! You can smell them a mile away!"

"Uh...."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

One Hour Later

"Hey you, you got another cigarette?" asked the bimbo seated across the table. A regular floozy in fact, her hair the color of platinum blonde.

Vicious fished a Lucky out of her pack. "Damn, that's the third one you bummed since I came in here." Both young ladies were in Tenpenny's lounge. "I been countin', you know?"

"I'm Janet!" the bimbo extended her hand. "I'm from West Virginia! Vault 94! That's how I got this Pip Boy! Where are you from?"

"Uh... around."

The blonde bimbo now identified as Janet sat pensively for a moment. Eyes darting here and there, as though her mind was in constant, rapid thought. "Hey you know, you don't have to pay for drinks in here!"

"I don't?"

"Pfft no! Just walk around. Nobody locks their doors around Tenpenny! Just look in peoples' fridges! And like, their cabinets and stuff. I sneak liquor all the time! Wanna come with me?"

As one lady followed the other lady out for some fun, so continued the plunge of Miss Vicious Delicious back into her former life of drugs, dread, and debauchery.

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

Thirteen floors of Tenpenny

A traveling brahmin merchant

RobCo, a convenient place to raid

Eager to get in

100 bottle caps. Was it worth the expense? -- (I just read there's a way to sneak into Tenpenny! Some wall we can jump over. Oh well.)

"That bimbo over there. Watch out. She gonna bum a cig off you, girl..."

Screw Tenpenny Tower. Vicious got her own pad.

This post has been edited by Renee: Sep 23 2020, 02:40 AM

[Lopov]

Now I finally know, how many floors there are in Tenpenny!

That merchant can sell you a robot, if I'm not mistaken.

Not sure if MVD fits among the "nobility" of Tenpenny. They want her to dress the parkstroller outfit - again!

It's Janet "Floozie" Talia!

Looks like the girls are about to have some fun!

[SubRosa]

Unlucky 13 Tenpenny Tower! I wonder if the address was 1313 Mockingbird Lane?

Oh boy, Miss D running in Janet is not a good thing for Delicious. Good to see she got her own pad though. I am guessing in the little shop south of Tenpenny, where the Lucky Shades are?

[Acadian]

'As she neared the place, she began counting its layers of windows. Thirteen. Lord have mercy.'
- - I wonder if when you get near the top floor, it skips from 12 to 14? Lord Haaf Mercy . . . will he be making an appearance in this story?

I have to agree that Vicious' current outfit does actually look better (and more comfortable) than either her previous parkstroller or those bandit-looted coconut cups. That pair of self-proclaimed fashion diva's at the store remind me of that dress shoppe in Solitude (Skyrim) where the pair of snooty Altmer want to dress you up like a toy doll or such.

[Renee]

Acadian: Yes exactly, on the snooty behavior of Tenenny residents! I didn't quote one of them exactly, but that's pretty much how several tenants speak to our character. But at least the Tenpenny residents often have a smile in their voices. To get into the spirit of Fallout games, you have to sometimes imagine the way people are in 1950s TV shows: a lot of Pollyanna types, falsely cheerful, and so on. I'm sure you've seen this in some of the billboards SubRosa has imgur'd in the past.

SubRosa: Shoot, I'm not sure where she is in that final picture. It is just to the southeast of Tenpenny Tower. Lucky Shades??? Yikes, I think we missed those, assuming we're talking about the same place.

Lopovuh: Yes, that's the merchant who can sell or repair robots! It's up for interpretation whether Tenpenny is twelve or thirteen floors. She counted 13.

Janet the Floozie gets featured again in this next chapter. Janet is partially based upon a real-life friend I had back until 2016 or so who I often referred to as my "homeless friend." My homeless friend had a lot of bad traits (drugs, wanton relationships, and so on), but one of the better traits she had was a love of word games, crosswords, and Sudoku.

.........

I've got a head full of drought
Down here
So far off of losing out
Round here
Overground, watch this space
I'm open, falling from grace.


Date: Tuesday, August 21, 2277


"Oh ma gosh what the hell?!"

The blonde named Janet laughed hysterically. "What the flip?" She nearly lost balance, even though she was sitting down. She then dabbed her latest cigarette straight into her drink. And realized she hadn't finished either her drink or the cigarette. "Ah ... damn."

"Hey, you said you wanted a action verb, Vicious replied calmly. "That's all I could think of." She smiled and shrugged. Though she had also been drinking. she was being much more cautious about it, being in a strange place with one very strange person, and all.

"Did you mean to say that like I think you meant to say that, like?... you really meant it like that way?" Janet hiccupped.

"Uh... what way is that. Like?" Vicious fought a smirk, without much success. Not that Janet noticed.

The pair had become fast friends, it might seem. Janet Telia had been right about one thing: despite having a large, constantly-armed presence of guards, Tenpenny Tower was full of residents who were mostly clueless about locking their doors, and keeping watch over their own possessions. After just one hour, Janet and Vicious had managed to score a bottle of whiskey, two packs more of Lucky Strikes, some Nuka Cola, and a silver carafe to mix it all together. Then they sauntered casually back to an apartment up in Tenpenny's 'suite' area to have a little blast. Janet explained that this apartment was not really hers, but someone named Susan Lancaster was allowing Janet to crash on her couch for a few days.

But there was something about Janet which Vicious could not exactly ... trust? Was that the word she was trying for?

"I need a... a.... *HIC!* ... a verb," Janet continued.

"Hmm... how about roll?"

"Roll! ... R-- *HIC!* Roll! ... How about a adjective?"

"Mmm. Bestest!"

"Bes--*HIC!* est? That's not a word!"

Her new friend Miss Vicious cocked her head slightly. Shrugged.

"Okay, whatever. One *hic!* more. I need a ... a possessive noun."

"A what?"

"Like... a dog's bone. Or a ... *HIC*... dammit! Damn hiccups!" Janet made some sort of movement with her head, rolling it backwards. After a few moments, Vicious realized the blonde was holding her breath.

"You still tryin' to get rid of those hiccups!" Vicious chucked. "'kay, I'll say Janet's hiccups for the possessive noun."

Janet made a notation with her pencil. Sat still, apparently still holding her breath. Breathed in. Her face was red, by now. Exhaled slowly, while pointing her index finger upwards. Lit a cigarette. Waited, with her finger up in the air again. Then finally, made an OK sign.

"You okay?" Vicious chuckled again.

"I think so. Ready? On the stupid road trip to Megaton, my vicious friend and I decided to invent a game."

"Nice. I ain't never heard of this game before. What's it called again?"

"Bad Libs! It's a Pre-War game. We had tons of them back in the vault."

"I see." Vicious sipped her whiskey / cola concoction. "Continue."

"Since this would be a rather funky trip, it would need to be a game with sports bras and farriers. Using our Rad-X to snort, we tried to get the deathclaw next to us to play too, but it just sucked at us and exploded away!"

"Oh my guwd," Miss Vicious laughed. "This is so stupid!" She rolled onto her side, covering her ear mockingly.

"After a few rounds, we thought the game could use some kisses, so we turned on the bastard and started dancing to the vibrator that came on. This lasted for thirteen hours before I got red and decided to blow. I'll never roll that trip. It was the bestest trip of my Janet's hiccups."

By now, Vicious was rolling on the couch. She had her face in a pillow. "Oh ma god what the flip? That's so flipped!" She chuckled again. Sat up and finished her drink. "Hey, I needed that. You don't know what it's like out there. Well. I guess you do know, if you got here really from West Virginia. You really came all that way?"

"Sure I did!" Janet quipped. "Hey, want to try another? Maybe help me with this crossword .... oh shoot."

"What?"

Janet was looking down at her left wrist. Her Pipboy device. She clicked on a button. "It's five-thirty, and that means Anthony Ling will be expecting me!" She got up suddenly, her Bad Libs pad falling to the floor. She rushed over to a mirror, and began primping her hair. "I gotta run. Got some caps to make!"

"Huh? Caps?"

"Uh-huh. This dude Anthony. he like, has lots of them! I suck his *rooster* once in awhile. Make a little extra here and there, y'know? It's all good fun, and he is, like, all the other residents around here, squeaky-clean." She paused, and looked at Vicious. "Hope you ain't offended! It's just until I hear from my brother."

"Right, your brother. Over at Fort Bannister. The ... Talon Company merc," Vicious tried to hide the doubt in her voice. Her brother. A sergeant over at Fort Bannister. And Janet. She had rode all the way here from West Virginia until her motorcycle broke down. Yuh. And I am Queen of the Ghouls she thought. But if there were any doubt in Miss Vicious Delicious's voice, certainly none of it was noticed by the drunkened, determined-to-make-some-caps Janet Telia.

"Just stay here!" Janet scream-whispered. "You can sleep on this couch for awhile! I'll be back in a half-hour or so."

And then, gone was the blonde bombshell of a bimbo who, oddly, loved word games. Gone she was, the perfume she'd just sprayed (and probably stole) trailing behind her. Miss Vicious, left to sit awkwardly upon the couch of some woman she'd never even met. Susan Lanca-something. What would this woman say, if she turned up early from whatever posh event (cocktail party, mani-pedi appointment...) she was most-likely holding this afternoon?

One thing was for sure. Tenpenny Towers? Miss Vicious Delicious did not belong here. Let Tenpenny and all thirteen of its floors fall and crumble to pieces some day. Gone she was, back where she belonged. Back to the Capitol Wasteland. This was her sudden decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After spending the night in a small, abandoned building nearby, Vicious awoke the next morning to the sound of something roaring around Tenpenny. It was a sound she had never heard before. Something motorized, perhaps a vertibird. She thought of getting closer to the tower. Maybe get a better look. But then, changed her mind. That sound was loud. What if the place was getting attacked?

She reached into her backpack, and pulled out her handheld device. Pressed a few buttons, scrolled sideways, and the sound of Janet's strange vault music filed the air. Janet had somehow moved a bunch of songs from her Pipboy onto Vicious's device. "Well one thing's for sure, she may be a liar and a whore, but I did have some good times and I love this music."

The motorized noise (whatever it was) continued an eighth of a mile away, over at Tenpenny. A cloud of dust was kicking into the air, near the tower's front gate.

Could it be? she asked herself. Naaah.

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

Road Trip Mad Libs page

Janet needs a verb

One of Janet's "vault music" songs

This post has been edited by Renee: Aug 9 2020, 07:05 PM

[Lopov]

LoL @ the world game! Farriers even!

Anthony's rooster!

That was the sound of Janet driving away on her motorbike, right?

[SubRosa]

So after living the flipping high life for a while, Miss V goes back to her flipping roots.

Wow, Road Trip Mad Libs takes me back to long car rides on summer vacations when I was a child.

The Lucky Shades are in a little grocery store called Lucky's that is southwest of Tenpenny Tower. It is right by the southern border of the map. As the name suggests, they give you a bonus to Luck.

[Acadian]

What a hoot! The end result for Janet's story was hilarious. But she must run off for some. . . fowl play.

[Renee]

I appreciate everyone's attentions. That was fun to write.

Yes, that was Janet's motorcycle. Don't tell Vicious!

========================

Date: Wednesday, August 22, 2277

As Miss Vicious quickly learned, those who'd been outcasted from raider society quickly found that news traveled fast. All it took was a handful of hams.

The ham (or amateur) radio. Although its history was vague, its invention surely happened some time during the late 1800s. With its invention came the promise: anybody who owned one could broadcast unseen electromagnetic waves into midair. As long as these waves were not impeded somehow, ham operators could hear each other from miles away. After the wars its popularity expanded. Hams became yet another tool for communication during peaceful times, for any ham operator who wanted to reach out. To someone in Manassas. To someone in Finland. Wherever a signal could reach and bounce upon the Earth's surface. Using a ham radio did not require a license. For a very long time, hams became almost as popular as telephones.

So, when she had been forcibly removed from Springvale Elementary several weeks before, Vicious had no idea how far-reaching the consequences would be. She'd been sent to the west, and left to die. Odd that they hadn't simply killed her right then and there. Maybe Dogmaster and the others saw something in her. Maybe all of this was some weird challenge. Survive the wastes, and maybe we'll accept you back...

But what Vicious did not know could now hurt her, especially when it came to Dogmaster, the man who'd originally inducted her into one of his gangs. He had inducted her, but she had failed to deliver some much-needed goods early during her 'initiation' phase. Such a simple task, somehow foiled. And for that, she had to pay.

After having her blindfolded and sent away, Dogmaster then simply got onto his ham. Powered it on. He broadcast his dopey voice to anybody using 28 megahertz. "Be on the lookout my west Potomac gangs," he'd said into his radio's mic. "Black female, young, medium height. She was one of us, but she ain't no more. I want all y'all to have some fun with her for a change. Should be coming in from the west. Oh, and she'll be easy to spot. All we left her with was a *flippin* Parkstroller outfit."

And because of this distant message, the sentry who stood on the western edge of Fairfax Ruins was the first to see Vicious as she approached. He was located above her, standing upon a rampart. He spotted her before she spotted him. And he was not fooled by the blastmaster-styled armor she was wearing. Sure, the b---- they'd all heard about was supposed to be wearing professional clothes, but that was no matter. Plenty of time to change into some new gear, somewhere along the way.

"It's go time!" he yelled, readying his weapon.

Vicious was startled. "Yo, I am one of you guys! Can't you see this *crap* I'm wearing? Come on now!"

But it was no use arguing against ignorance. As the sentry readied and steadied, aiming to hit, Miss Vicious Delicious planned her next move.

This post has been edited by Renee: Aug 16 2020, 06:58 PM

[Acadian]

Oh noes, a cliff hanger! Darn radio waves travel faster than Miss Delicious does. Can't wait to see if/how she gets outta this.

[SubRosa]

So now we learn more of Miss VD's history, and how she became a Raider on the Run. Dogmaster was a good name choice for the boss in Springvale, as I recall he had a dog with him.

It's like in the movie The Warriors, where a hit was called out on the gang over the radio, and all the other gangs in the city went gunning for them.

[Lopov]

"Once a raider, always a raider" - the rule obviously doesn't apply in the Capital Wasteland.

Go get them, Miss Vicious Delicious!

[Renee]

Yeah, a cliffie. Sorry! Last week's chapter was half-baked. I know you'll never get info Fallout, Acadian. I'd be curious to see how you'd approach it. Since you have a military past, is it partially the fact that guns are part of the game?

Vicious was a raider but her past is complicated, SubRosa and Lopov. Although I don't know all of it right now, I can tell you that she was raised somewhat religiously. Maybe I am drawing from my own teenage years, there. A lot of us were confused back then, doing some right and some wrong.

I haven't seen The Warriors. Wonder if it's on Netflix or Hulu? Not on Netflix. Nothing s on Netflix nowadays, except their own Netflix Exclusives. Hulu has WARRIOR and WARRIOR (TV show and movie), but not The Warriors. I also see Desert Warrior.

I found it on You Tube. 1979. There's some gangs called The Furies, The Boppers, and The High Hats. Does any of this sound like the movie you're speaking of?

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



"It's go time!" yelled the raider sentry, readying his weapon, a worn-out combat knife.

Vicious was startled. "Yo, I am one of you guys! Can't you see this *crap* I'm wearing? Come on now!"

But it was no use arguing against ignorance. As the sentry readied and steadied, aiming to hit, Miss Vicious Delicious planned her next move. "Dammit!" Which was to simply double back. Turn and high-tail it, back to Fort Independence.

"What are ya *flippin'* scared!?" he called after her, falling behind.

But Vicious was not scared. Only startled, and not very well armed. She knew how it would proceed from here. There would be no convincing going on, no dialog or debate. Despite the fact that she was dressed as one of them, it was obvious her pursuer did not care. A raider on the outskirts would kill for a pack of smokes, if he were desperate enough.

She was running hard now, headed back the way she'd come. "HELP!" Vicious called to the Fort Independence Defender she'd passed a half-hour before. "Help, I'm being attacked!"

"Come back here, you *birch*!" the raider with the worn-out knife called. "You know we're all lookin' for you now!"

Their footfalls echoing. A mutant cicada buzzed somewhere unseen.

Unlike Vicious, the Fort Independence Defender guy was well-armed, also ready for spontaneous combat. It seemed as though he spotted her, then spotted them both. Would he simply shoot them both?

The Defender strolled sideways from behind his short bunker of sandbags, and powered on his weapon, a bona-fide Tesla Rifle. Unlike Vicious and her pursuer, the defender's rifle would be well-maintained. Cared for and oiled, every single day. But the uncertainty! The moment! Who would he go for?

The Defender fired. Pink blasts of energy zapped the air, Vicious could feel the gun's electricity, charging unseen ions everywhere! Fortunately for her, the raider chasing her suddenly lost his arm. Miss Vicious crabbed and rolled onto the ground! ... Making sure she'd not get hit by that Tesla rifle, making sure the defender guy was definitely NOT following her with his aim. Phew! .... The Defender fired again, and just a couple meters away from Vicious herself. She scrambled and got to her feet. Did a backwards spin. By now, she was standing next to the defender. If he was planning to shoot her, she'd at least have some sandbags to hide behind!

But, there was no worry. Within the next second, her pursuer exploded. Fell to the ground! Once somebody's son and perhaps lovingly so, now nothing but a pile of ashes.

Vicious stumbled, and caught her breath.
...Right then and there, she got it.
...Somehow knew it.
...It was as obvious as the sun in the sky.

What had the raider from Fairfax Ruins said just before having his measly life ended? Her thoughts raced. Then she remembered. "Something about 'we're all," she said aloud. Finally, the thought struck. We're all lookin' for you! he had said. WE are all looking for you.

"They," she started, unbelieving. "They all lookin' for me." She felt plainly dumbstruck. "But ... how?" She did not expect this. As the full implication of the Fairfax raider's words sunk in, she righted herself. Squared her shoulders. Looked to the mutt of a pistol she was carrying. And realized. Heading back to the Megaton area would not be as easy as she formerly had assumed.

"But how?" she repeated. "How they all know I'm out here?"

"Hey you," interrupted a voice. A calm and muffled female voice.

Vicious turned, startled for the second time this morning. "Dag. You just saved my life." She smiled at the defender, the defender who was powering down her weapon. Vicious had assumed her savior was a man, not a woman. But to her credit, due to the suit the defender was wearing, it was impossible to tell male from female. All genders looked the same under the bulk of power armor, and this set was definitely not looking made for womanly forms.

"If you're trying to get yourself killed out here," continued the defender, "you mind doing it further away from our bunker?"

"Well, I ain't out here trying to get killed. It's just that--" Vicious left the sentence unfinished. It's just that I thought I was one of them? she'd been about to say. But how would that play now, before this well-armed and well-armored sentinel, who had no qualms about shooting actual raiders on sight?

"I'm Defender Anne Marie Morgan with the Outcasts," the voice under bulks of power armor replied. "Steer clear of here, and you should be able to continue with that whole 'not dying' plan, okay?"

"Okay," Vicious nodded. "But how am I supposed to...."

Again, she left the sentence unfinished. Thought for a moment.

"Uh, nice meeting you, Defender Anne. Again, I must thank you for so kindly saving my life."

The day moved from morning to noon just then. The mutant cicada, which had ceased its annoying song as the firefight commenced, began to buzz again. And suddenly, Miss Vicious had a plan...

"So...that Tesla rifle you got there..."

"Tesla cannon," corrected the defender with a bit of edge in her voice. "Huge difference."

"Uh huh. How many rounds you got in that thing anyway?"

...and this plan would involve a good many of those rounds. The defender's boring stint at guard duty could potentially be not so boring for the rest of the afternoon. In fact, the former raider hoped Defender Marie Anne Morgan would have enough to take down the rest of Fairfax Ruins, as Miss Vicious lured them out of their sorry-ass hidey-holes. One, by one.

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

Fairfax Ruins -- (Fort Independence is the building in the far left-upper corner)

Defender Morgan

"We're all lookin' for you!

Defender Morgan assists

"Hey, whoa, I'm gettin' outta here!"

Wednesday night is Family Night!

These guys just don't learn, do they?

Ragdoll'd

Vicious got this one (Gore Warning.... eww)

At the end of the day, Vicious will Survive

This post has been edited by Renee: Aug 23 2020, 08:39 PM

[Lopov]

Wow, a truly beautiful shot of Fairfax ruins.

Luring them back to Defender Morgan was clever. I bet that her weapon will need some repairs by the end of the day. Funny, I don't remember this defender at all. I remember some other guy that you can talk to at Fort Independence, and I think he's not wearing his helmet.

LoL, in the middle of all combat shots there's the family night screenie.

Lasers in the sun!

MVD looks like she's missing her right leg in the Gore pic.

Tire iron is the way to go!

A quick question - at what difficulty are you playing? Do you assume that MVD wouldn't be able to deal with those raiders on her own? Just curious.

This post has been edited by Lopov: Aug 23 2020, 07:50 PM

[Acadian]

I'm sure I could make FO work okay but my genre really is medieval fantasy games and there is no shortage of those to keep me busy for probably ever, given how long I stay with one when I like it.

Vicious was lucky to run into that helpful Imperial Legion guard Defender. And, as Lopov said, clever to lure more raiders back to her tesla cannon.

[macole]

Ah, such a good feeling to know that somebody wants you except when everybody wants you. Hope the plan works out well.