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> Miss Vicious Delicious, Her saga and story...
post Apr 4 2021, 06:21 PM
Post #81

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Joined: 19-March 13
From: Ellicott City, Maryland


Chapter 16 -- Reinstated with the Raiders

Slick was still standing just inside the school's doors as Vicious reentered its foyer. "Que pasa?" asked he with his usual half-smirk, half something-else.

"Well as you can see," she said a bit sullenly, "here I am."

"Damn straight Vicious, hoo! Look at you!"

"So is that it?" she challenged. "Is that all? So I am back with the raiders now?"

"Yep," said Slick with a loud sniff. "We all cool wi'chu now. So now you be cool. Have a walk around the school, yuh? And stick around for a bit, a'ight? I may... I mean, we may have some work with you comin' up real soon. Because we all know you's all that and a bag of Potato Crisps, right?"

"Well thank you," said Vicious uneasily. "I guess. Whatever that means. Thank you for accepting me back."

"Now ... here," Slick said. He reached behind himself and grabbed something nearby. "I know you like shotguns. Have this one on me. And some shells."

Vicious's eyes nearly popped when she saw the piece being given to her now. Freshly machined and oiled, this was no mutt of a firearm (as was so commonly found out here in the wasteland). No, this was a gun which had received some care. She immediately jammed a round of shells into its casing, and aimed for a wall. She then fired the gun into one of the nearby corpses, which had been hung there for whatever reason. ...*BKKSH!*...

The gun worked. Its recoil was solid, causing her to almost lose her balance. Its action and aim were both true. Which meant she was back. This was real. She was really being re-inducted into the Potomac area raiders.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there!" Slick cautioned, backing up as though he'd never fired a gun himself. "At least wait 'til you outside, eh?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that."

Vicious noticed her ears were ringing.


One facet, one common, unspoken rule of raider society, was this. If an object was placed in or on a 'common area' for more than X number of seconds or minutes, this object (whether it was a piece of clothing, a weapon, or even a chem) was now up for grabs. Especially if the object was placed there, and then the original owner of that object passed out, or wandered off into another room.

Unlike Megaton, where picking up a mere fork off the counter in Moriarty's could potentially set off a fight, or apparently cause somebody to get arrested, grabbing anything from an open shelf or a counter in a raider hideout was allowed. Some raiders might store their stuff in a locked container perhaps. Otherwise, it could be anyone's. Because of this unspoken rule, Miss Vicious began a small hunt for anything located in or on one of these common areas (lockers, shelves, desks...), just after Slick Rick told the others she'd be rejoining their family.

Despite her unease, nobody attacked her. Nobody ganged up on her. And so what if they did? She now had two well-kept weapons to defend herself with. She now possessed a set of armor which was also well-crafted. So let them come at her now, was her current train of thought. She was back, and there was nothing they could do about it.

Since she had some free time before learning what her first mission would be, she spent her first hour back in Springvale wandering its rooms and halls. Greeting the various raiders who currently lived here, all the while keeping an eye open for any items lying in the open. Anything she could choose, and maybe use. By the end of her walk around the school's first floor, she had scored some morphine, a Prewar bill, a Stimpak, and a couple of beers.

"Uh. Hello," Vicious spoke to the first man she found, who was pacing around the darkened gloom of a former classroom.

"I'm not in the mood for you, *arsehole*," was his answer.

Miss Vicious noticed he spoke with an accent. Like most Potomac raiders, he was probably not from the area.

The bulk of those dwelling in the wasteland's outlying locations, such as Springvale, Fairfax Ruins, and Super Duper Mart, had mostly come down from Philadelphia, New York City, or somewhere in New Jersey. Like the man who just called her a dirty word, they spoke with 'Joisey' accents. Locals who chose the raider life, such as Dogmaster, Q Tip, and Slick Rick, were actually uncommon. Why and when did those from Jersey migrate? Years ago? Decades ago? How had the locals managed to keep their positions at the top? These topics were unclear to Vicious. Mostly because she had been raised in a religious setting, and had not fallen in with the Capitol Wasteland Potomac raiders until a couple years ago.

"Hey. You," said another dude, this one with spiked hair. Again, he spoke with that same Jersey accent. "Yeah. You. I don't like the look you're givin' me. Keep it up, and I'll break your *ferking* skull open!"

"Up yours," was Vicious's answer to him.

Like the dude with spiked hair, most were rude to Vicious as she moved from room to room, perhaps because they were jealous.

"You best point those peepers somewhere else," said yet another. "Before I TEAR them outta your skull!"

"Says who? Your momma? I heard your momma is so old, she got her bible autographed by the Man, himself."

"Eat me, sister!"

"Yeah, you wish I would."

They all knew who she was by now, and most were jealous about this. At least, this is what she told herself. As she wandered around, she sure did put up a brave face. But inside, Vicious felt she was crumbling.

"Oh hey. Check this out," said yet another to Vicious as she wandered up a dark hallway. Unlike the others so far, he did not just insult her on sight. "You know those rookie idiots who tried to head up north? They got their *arses* handed to them by some *ferking* monsters!"

"Oh yeah? Well--" Miss Vicious stopped. She had a comeback comment planned and ready for him, just in case he had nothing nice to say. She was a little surprised when she did not get to use it. "That's too bad for them, I guess," she finished lamely.

After another few minutes of wandering, looking for a place she could shoot her latest score (and maybe just be on her own for awhile) Vicious did find a raider female; the first gal she met in this dump.

"Hey you. What's up?" the gal asked. "You look all lost, and stuff-like." Another Jersey-ite. She spoke with a high-pitched voice which apparently hadn't yet been ravaged by years of cigs or chem-use. She was drinking a beer, and had a cutesy haircut done in the 'Fairytale' style, a popular look for raider females.

"Well as you may know already, my name's Tan-- I mean Vicious," she answered. "Back with y'all raiders, I guess. Are you nice? Sick of being put down and all. Can I have one of those beers?"

"Hey, well don't look so down, and yes you can. I'm Bratty. Been here for a few days now. The others in here are all in some big commonotion about who you is, and whatcha been done in the past, or something," Bratty said, making a gesture and rolling her eyes. "I don't know what they all is rambling all about, and better yet, nor I don't care!"

"Well that's good," said Miss Vicious. She grabbed one of several beers from a nearby table, and had a seat. "So, What's a girl gotta do around here to find somebody nice to hang with?"

And from that point, Bratty and Vicious bonded. This was good, because by now, all Vicious wanted and needed was a friend. The pair decided to leave the school altogether, and headed toward an abandoned bus just up the street. There they drank a couple of beers, talked about their lives, and shared the morphine Vicious had found earlier.

"Hey, cansh I do ..." Bratty later slurred, the combination of opiates and alcohol having full effect. "I mean like, can I do ... your hair?"

"Whaaat? You know how to work a hot-comb?" Vicious asked, genuinely surprised.

Bratty did know. Bratty pulled a razor, some scissors, some soap, some water, some cosmetologist's oil, and a metal comb from her pack. The comb was set upon a pile of burning rubbish within the abandoned bus (causing a large, messy cloud of smoke which the girls had to vent with outside air). Bratty then went to work on Vicious's new look. The job took an unknown amount of time, probably longer than it should have, due to their intoxication. In her haze, Vicious was a little concerned maybe she'd wake up tomorrow looking like a centaur-head, or something. But other than a couple incidental burn-marks from the comb, she had little to worry about. Her new friend was trained in these matters.

Vicious smiled genuinely after seeing herself in one of the bus's mirrors. She looked good. More important, she looked different. Gone was her former coif, which she had kept since roaming astray from the Jehovah's Witnesses a couple years before. Though she wasn't looking like an outright raider, with spiked hair or a totally shaved head perhaps, she found herself pleased.

From that point on, the future seemed wild and bright, and full of whatever was to come in the Capitol Wasteland.


Quest Completed

Vicious got a new gun

BLAM! goes the Blamhammer


Vicious and Bratty


Can I do your hair?

New look for Miss Vicious

This post has been edited by Renee: Apr 4 2021, 08:39 PM
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post Apr 4 2021, 06:59 PM
Post #82

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Joined: 11-February 13
From: Slovenia

One facet, one common, unspoken rule of raider society, was this. If an object was placed in or on a 'common area' for more than X number of seconds or minutes, this object (whether it was a piece of clothing, a weapon, or even a chem) was now up for grabs. Especially if the object was placed there, and then the original owner of that object passed out, or wandered off into another room.

Taneesha better be careful not to put her shotgun down. laugh.gif

I like her attitude among raiders - one must be rude with them, I guess, else they'd immediately sense some weakness.

Nice that Taneesha has a friend now!

Although unladylike, Taneesha's looking good!

"I saw a politician the other day."
"Horrible creatures - I avoid them whenever I can."
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post Apr 5 2021, 01:02 AM
Post #83

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Joined: 14-March 10
From: Las Vegas

New gun, new doo and new friend! Miss VD's making gains there at that Raider hideout.

Screenshot: Buffy in Artaeum
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post Apr 5 2021, 02:10 AM
Post #84

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Joined: 14-March 10
From: Between The Worlds

I still don't trust Slick. Methinks he has a card up his sleeve, and is planning on using Miss VD to do some dirty work for him. Maybe be the fall guy for something he does.

I was just talking to one of my neighbors that the great thing about an apocalypse are the hair styles. Everyone gets a colored mohawk or spikes or something else equally outrageous. No one ever runs out of hair product when the world ends, and everyone is a hairdresser.

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