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Laura looked handed Jonathon a demolition charge and trusted him to get on with it. She turned to the three by the windows and grinned with grim determination. They were hers, even surrounded and outgunned they were willing to stick by her when things went wrong. Though Alexei was seeming to suffer from the stress a little he hadn't snapped, and that was the main thing.

"Raymond, I was trusting you not to kill them. You're a good enough to shot to make them think you're shooting to kill without actually hitting them. I'm not willing to become a murderer yet, but that doesn't mean they need to know that. Alexei, if you aim just above their heads and loose off a few bursts to make them keep their heads down they can't shoot at us when we leg it and they can't advance on us. Theres far too much open ground for them to cover under fire."

Laura turned to Keara, she knew the kid had a wild streak, a dangerous streak. But in Laura's eyes she was still a girl, not someone who should be exposed to this sort of life. She was useful as a scout but as far as death and destruction was concerned a part of Luara just wanted to make sure the small girl didn't see more of it than was absolutely necessary.

"Negative on that Keara, as soon as that back wall is down you need to be out of here. We can't have you by the window risking some shrapnel in the leg. If you don't make it to Megaton I doubt any of us will. Plus those cells aren't cheap, we can't have you wasting more ammo. We can get some cheap and shoddy bullets for Alexei and Raymond, but they know how to conserve."
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson

Without a word, Laura handed him an explosive the size of a small brick and then diverted her attention to the rest of the group.
"Right, I'll prep this one. Give me a sec." Jonathan mumbled under his breath and got to work. First he needed a length of wire to connect Laura's explosive with the detonator.
"Let's see. First up is the length of wire we need. one of the 30 metre spools should do it. If we get something at this end of the building for cover against shrapnel, we should be fine."

Next he took out one of the makeshift harnesses he'd been working on earlier and bound it around the brick. Now the rest would be simple. Press the bare tip of the detonationwire into the brick and then tape it into place. The other end went into the mouth of the onehanded detonator he'd made out of scrap a few days back, after checking the safety of course. The last step was affixing it to a wall.
"Alright, I'm done boss. She's ready as soon as you find the place you want it and squeeze the handle. Don't forget to turn the safety knob on top first. I'll move some of those crates so we can hide behind them." He said as he gently placed explosive and detonator on a table.


Laura used the word "you," Keara realized, not "we."

"You need to be out of here."

There was no talk of a rendezvous, or any sort of contingencies. Did Laura really mean for the rest of the group to make a last stand against the Regulators while she got away? Keara stood dumbly for a moment while Jonathan prepped the bombs. She scanned the room, looking over each one of her companions. She'd never called any of them friends before, but at this moment she realized that they were. Despite the arguments, the mistrust, and her thieving nature, they were all willing to die right here just to let her run away.

A tear welled up and she wiped it away as quickly as she could; Gramps would never let her hear the end of it if he saw it. She steeled her nerves, took a couple of deep breaths, and flipped the safety on her rifle.

"Stay alive, all of you," she said solemnly, "And I'll come back. I promise."

Keara knew that her promise likely meant little to them, coming from her. What mattered, though, was that it meant something to her.

This is it then Raymond muttered, before singing his rifle over his back and helping Jonathon move some crates for cover.

Once enough boxes were in place for everyone to get behind, Raymond then dragged a sheet of corrugated metal in front of the crates "might help stop shrapnel a bit better" He grunted. God, my back's going to break any day now!
Laura nodded at the group and motioned them behind the cover. The charges would create more shrapnel than blast wave, and it'd expel the majority of those outwards, there wouldn't be any fire from the sheet metal the warehouse was made from so the only thing they had to worry about was richochet.

"As soon as the way is clear everyone moves for the exit. Keara, stick with us until we're out of the compound and slip away. You've evdaded these guys before, do it again. Get to Megaton get. Get us help. The rest of us, we'll lure them away, hopefully we can make it away but I want no heroics. We're making no last stands, we're not going out in a blaze of glory. We're living for another day unless they start shooting first."

She looked over at Jonathon. She didn't have time to wait, there was no more time for plan Bs. This was it.

"Do it."
jack cloudy

With the help of Raymond, he managed to move some of the ragfilled crates into a makeshift barrier. To be frank, he would have preferred the help of Alexei over Gramps in this. The Ghoul was by far the strongest member of the company and could have easily lifted a crate all by himself. But Jonathan understood that someone had to keep an eye on the approaching regulators and provide incentive to duck and cover if they came in too fast.

When the mechanic figured they'd moved enough crates, he diverted his attention to Laura who just finished the final touches on the placing of the demolition charge. Once done, she motioned everyone to get behind the cover, while indicating that Jonathan should pick up the detonator.
"Figures, I'm the one who best understands that gadget, no matter how simple I tried to keep it. This isn't the time to risk silly mistakes like turning the safetyknob in the wrong direction and having it snap off."

Jonathan took up the detonator from the table and ducked behind the crates with the rest of the group as Laura went over the final details of her plan. The mechanic didn't like the idea of turning everyone into a decoy for Keara, but he wasn't the tactical expert or the leader here. If Laura thought this was their best option, then that was just how they'd do it. At least she made clear that she wasn't planning on suicide. Finally, she turned to him.
"Do it."

"Right, cover your ears and keep your heads down." Jonathan answered as he flicked the safety and triggered the charge. It was do or die time and he hoped they'd manage to go with do.


Keara didn't cover her ears in time when the charge blew; she was fumbling with the last of her jet. The wall had a gaping hole, though, and they ran through the smoke and dust, out into the wasteland.

Her ears rang horribly, yet she kept on, the new influx of drugs drove her forward, along with the desire to avoid death. It didn't take long for her to get ahead of the others, but she kept going. She knew that she was their last hope in the event of something terrible, so she left them in her dust.

Lucky ran ahead of even her, though he kept looking back, as if to make sure that she was not far behind. She avoided making a direct route to Megaton; that would be a sure-fire way to get caught, so she simply kept running in the direction she had originally chosen. The more space between her and the Regulators, the better, and if their companions somehow evaded them, she would be able to find them again.

Just get away for now, Keara. The rescue plan will come later. Just get away. she reminded herself. She heard gunshots, but kept running, though she zig-zagged a bit now. There was no looking back; she had to keep moving.


When the bomb exploded and made a hole in the wall, so did Alexei's RPD. He pointed just above their heads, as Laura commanded, and the Regulators took cover where they could. In the past, he had dealings with those Regulators as his mentor was formerly one of them. Plus, he still had his Duster. Just like Grandfather Raymond, he was reluctant to kill those he once called friends. But he was also determined not to die, if things come to that.

"C' Nami Bog," he said to the Company before firing more rounds at the Regulators. Since Grandfather was reluctant and Keara sent as an envoy to the rest of the Company in Megaton, Alexei has seemingly become the only one who would cover their tactical retreat. With that thought in mind, he emptied a whole drum magazine at the Regulators, who now returned fire.

As Alexei fired at the Regulators who fired back at the Warehouse, Raymond took up his rifle reluctantly and aimed carefully at one of the Opposing Snipers. "This should stop them poking out as much," he said to Alexei beside him, and fired a bullet at the snipers hat, knocking it off and sending the sniper rolling behind a rock for cover. One less sniper for you to deal with, Alexei.

"Laura, whats next?" Raymond shouted, turning around to see her. "We can't hold them back forever, and we were already low on bullets!"
Laura was rummaging in her satchel, the detonation from the wall hadn't done much damage to the warehouse, but in the glow of the light she'd spotted something off to the side that she hadn't seen before. With a small noise of triumph she pulled a small carefully wrapped bundle from the mess of wires and explosives she carried with her.

"We fall back, and we do it fast. I'll buy us some cover." Laura tolled Raymond, pulling her revolver from it's holster with a silent prayer that she'd remembered to load it. On the third trigger pull the magnum's deep booming voice rang out, the bullet punching a hole in a dark grey barrel across the room, spilling it's dark viscious contents onto the floor.

Grabbing a piece of corrugated iron Laura held it bewteen her and the regulators and she pelted across the warehouse, her makeshift shield ringing and shaking as buckshot and shells bounched off and punched through it. With a final slide Laura found herself behind the stack of barrels, and with a final shove of her should she sent them rolling across the front of the warehouse.

Unwrapping the bundle of rags she'd taken from her satchel she gingerly removed a long stick of a waxy purple material. The faded wrapping that had covered it was worn away in places, and the wax was weeping. Taking a lighter from her pocket Laura watched as the rolling barrel spilt the gasoline across the floor of the warehouse, soaking crates and bodies alike.

"Everyone! Move!" she screamed at her team, before lighting the fuse at the top of the experimental incendiary, and hurling it into the gasoline. As the liquid lit with a whoosh of heated air the varying bodies and crates that were in the fire's path began to burn, sending thick plumes of greasy black smoke into the warehouse.

Laura ran to the hole in the wall, praying that no regulators had moved around to block it yet, and that her team was following. "Everyone into the hills! Keep running, we don't have time to fight back now!"
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson

Despite being the one who pulled the trigger, the intensity of the explosion caught him offguard. By the time he regained his composure, Laura and her dog had already bolted as if they were a pair of bullets fired from a gun. Just as he leapt over the crates to follow her, the Regulators opened fire and although most of the bullets were stopped by the old walls, at least one of the shooters was wielding a weapon that considered the structure less as a barrier and more as a speedbump. One bullet from that first salvo impacted close enough to Jonathan's feet that he actually felt the floorfragments strike his leg. The surprise and shock of that was enough to make him lose his balance and tumble down to the other side of the crate he'd started from.

"Dammit!" He muttered to himself and fumbled for his pistol before remembering the smg Alexei had given him. It was still slung over his shoulder and while not fully loaded, the handful of bullets it contained were certainly better than the lone slug in his peashooter.
"Not that I can shoot from this position, but I could fire over my shoulder while we run." Jonathan figured as he grabbed the weapon and checked the safety. Shots still rang out and a bullet or two struck his cover but already slowed down as they were from penetrating the warehouse's walls, they harmlessly embedded themselves somewhere within the crate's pile of rags. Raymond and Alexei had already returned the fire but it was obvious that they were at a serious disadvantage.

"Everyone! Move!" Laura's voice barely reached over the cacaphony of gunfire and ricocheting ammunition but the mechanic heard her clearly and responded. Even as their leader's latest boommaker flew through the air, he got up and bolted.
"Please don't let anyone get lucky enough to hit me. Please ohgodohgodohgod!" He yammered while running for the hole in the wall.


The ghoul caught a sniper round in his right forearm and he bit his lip to stop the scream that would follow. It was deep and the blood was dripping not in rivulets, but in torrents. Damn it. Holding the recoil of the RPD was a heavy chore now. Grandfather Raymond saw this and shot back in retaliation, albeit in reluctance. Alexei growled his thanks; not of hostility, but because his voice deserted him in pain.

The he heard Laura's voice and saw her shoulder-barge a barrel spilling some kind of liquid. It was oil and by the makeshift grenade in her hand, Laura has her goals on making another boom. Alexei emptied another drum for one last time and ran through the hole. Several bullets bruised his back while he did so, his Combat Armor absorbing most of the blow. Still the pain was there.

Meanwhile, the Ghoul's forearm was still bleeding. The wound was worsening.

They must have seen her bolt out of the warehouse, yet she had no followers far as she could tell. Keara heard another explosion and chanced a look back; the warehouse was getting pelted mercilessly by Regulator rounds, and a thick, black smoke billowed from the warehouse's every opening.

She gasped, fearing the worst. She crouched low and watched through her binoculars, just in time to see them dash from the warehouse.

"C'mon, c'mon," she mumbled, still watching from her vantage point. Keara wanted to fire on the Regulators, and she could have, except that they would be able to trace her laser right back to her position. She had to force herself to stop watching and keep moving. She made a note of her friends' location; she would have to return later to track them down.

I just hope they're smart enough to leave me a trail to follow.

On the run again, she waited until she could no longer see the warehouse before finally veering towards Megaton.

The second explosion had caught Raymond off guard. As he turned around, a veil of black smoke blocked his sight. His only indication of the exit was Laura's call. re holstering his weapon, he charged through the smoke and fire and joined his comrades run, stopping briefly to douse a fire on his duster with some sand but the fire had already done its damge. There was now a burnt hole behind Raymonds right knee. [/i]God damn it! Now I need to get a repair done. That is if we escape this place[i]

Continuing his run, a thought came to him. "Laura! If your expecting Keara to find us again, we better leave a trail for her to follow." Raymond tried to keep pace with the young demolitionist, but his armor and age was slowing him down. "Do any of you have some bullet casings?"
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson

He'd never been the most physically capable one in the group and already he could feel his legs tire out. As such, despite being the first to leave the warehouse among the men, he soon had fallen behind Alexei and by the time they reached the hole in the fence, Raymond to had caught up.

"Laura! If your expecting Keara to find us again, we better leave a trail for her to follow." Raymond yelled ahead at their leader's back and then added a request for bullet casings.
"Don't have any....No, wait...I do got some bullets." Jonathan replied, remembering the clip of handmade bullets sitting in his new backpack. He took it off as he knelt by the fence and opened it.
"Here, I was going to try and make them fit our guns but...take them." He crawled through the gap and held out the clip of bullets with one hand while putting the backpack back on his back with the other.

"She was there when I picked them up so she'll know what they are. And maybe her dog can track our scent or I dunno."
Laura shook her head, arms and legs pumping to keep up with the rest. "We're already leaving a trail, unfortunately both Keara and the Regulators are gonna be able to follow it." Laura quickly turned so the others where she was pointing. Alexei's blood was staining the ground with a few dark red patches for every few feet of ground.

Her team had never been fast, but with Raymond's age, Jonathons general lever of fitness, her height, and even Alexei's massive strides were worsening as he lost blood, the added effort pouring more out. "We'll be found either way, unless we stop and treat that wound. We've gotta find a place to stop, and just hope the Regulators are slow to follow." she yelled.

Turning and sprinting to catch up to Alexei she grabbed the ghoul's good arm, fighting back the revulsion of the clammy skin and sliding gristle under her hand. "Stop! You're bleeding too heavily to keep going" she told him "I saw a gully up, we'll hide in there and get you treated".

With that she moved on ahead, cutting across the hardy brush that was starting to dot their path towards the gully. Once inside the sloping walls of rubble and loose rock she motioned her team down to a shadowed hollow near the end, where the wall backed up to a cliff face.

"Alright, put pressure on it...umm...we should sterlise it, wait no you don't get ill...Jonathon, got any needle and thread?" Laura asked, unsure as to how exactly to proceed. She was a leader, but always had been hopeless at field medicine.
OOC: All right, time for Alexei to be a luggage rather than a help and all of us be captured by those Regulators. I'll edit it if anyone has objections or think that it is too early.

Alexei's vision was beginning to blur and his eyes ferally swam in all directions underneath his gas mask. The ballistic force of the sniper round was tremendous and Alexei thanked his lucky stars it didn't penetrate the bone. But it did graze it, and the pain cannot be put into words. The constant running made him dizzy and his stomach was starting to rebolt.

The whole was in a daze again.

He was vaguely aware of someone yelling and him being led to gully ending in a large cliff face. He sat on a depression in the ground, dropped his RPD beside him and placed pressure on the wound. It was now leaking in alarming quantities. His grey was soaked.

"Just how bad is it, " he growled. "Enough to lose my whole tank of blood or what?"

He ripped a portion of his duster but before he could wrap it tight, he looked to the general direction of his blurry, fellow mercs. Strangely, there seem to be a blanket of darkness slowly eating away at the edge of his vision. He opened his mouth to say something, but blood gushed forth, staining those unlucky enough to be nearby. Confused, he felt a warm and slimy feeling on his gut.

He opened up the buttons of his duster, looked down and saw another wound, just beside his navel. It, too, was bleeding. Only this time, much much worse than the one in his arm.

"Must've.. Ignored it in .. an adrenaline rush," he chuckled meekly. "I'm sorry, comrades . .. It seems I am ... dead weight."

Keara ran as far as she could, but her pace had long since slowed to a tired walk. The sun was setting, and it gave everything around her a yellow twinge. The wind kept kicking up dust in her face, so she cut the cuff from the bottom of her jeans and used it to cover her nose and mouth. She must've looked pitiful, coming down off jet in a sandstorm with one short pants leg. Even Lucky walked with his tail drooping behind him.

She could see Megaton's rusty brown silhouette on the horizon, though it would be far into the night before she got there. Each step was more difficult than the last, but she pushed on. She had to get some help; hopefully there would be a merc or two willing to help.

Mercs want caps. I'll either have to get a hold of some, or bluff my way into getting help.

Bluffing would be dangerous, but it seemed more realistic than raising the caps to find a gun for hire.

Raymond was shocked by Alexei's wound. He knew that the ghoul wouldn't be running until it had stopped bleeding, and even then he would have the risk of the scab cracking. They were stuck.

"I knew we should have hired a medic." He muttered to himself, walking back to the gully entrance and taking up his rifle. The regulators were now checking the warehouse exterior for any signs of them still being inside. hold on, whats he doing?

The regulator with a sniper bullet hole in his hat had spotted something on the ground, and was now slowly walking towards the groups hiding hole. "Heads up, they've found the blood trail. I'm giving us a minute and a half till they find us."
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson

Their mad dash came at an end, a dead one. The mechanic held no illusions about climbing the cliff before them. They might have been able to do it with proper climbing gear but he wasn't sure about that. For one thing, they didn't have any and for another, he was sorely lacking in rockclimbing experience. Alexei collapsed on the floor, somehow still clinging to consciousness despite the evident bloodloss. Jonathan was no doctor, but the wound in the ghoul's arm didn't seem like it could be the cause. Sure, it was bad, but not that bad. Then they discovered a second, far worse injury which explained things. The ghoul tried to say something, but all he managed to do was spit up blood, some of which landed on Jonathan. The man grimaced, but forced himself to ignore the slimy mess. Now was not the time to flinch away from the ghoul. Alexei was a friend and needed his help, not his desire to stay clean.

"Jonathon, got any needle and thread?" Laura asked him as she knelt beside Alexei.
"Of course I do. Duct-tape doesn't fix everything after all. I can sew as well...never tried flesh though. But I'll try." He answered as he produced a weathered spool of thread and a needle. It was rather dirty and therefore horribly unsuited for surgical means but at least it wasn't an issue this time. With some effort, he managed to get the thread through the needle's eye.

"Ghouls don't suffer from radiation, they don't get infected by diseases or worry about lack of hygiŽne. And the big thing, they're all half-decayed walking corpses. Yet bloodloss is clearly an issue. Just how much of their body do they still need to function?" Jonathan wondered but didn't voice the question. He lowered his head to get a close look at the abdominal wound, while failing to suprres the subconscious shudder at seeing and smelling the irradiated flesh.
"It would be best if we focussed on the worst hole first, right? I can sew it up on the outside, but there is some internal bleeding going on that I can't stop. Alexei, can you breathe? Don't talk, just nod or shake." If the ghould could still breathe, then there was hope he would be able to survive the internal bleeding, at least till they found a proper doctor. If he was drowning in his own blood though...

OOC: Minque and Lord Revan's characters ARE members of the Company, right? Or am I missing something here?

Breathing was becoming more of a chore now. It came in short, raspy inhales. He could feel the world around him twirl at an alarming speed. Grandfather Raymond disappeared from sight. The two remaining Company members were blurred from completely identifying them.

He puked. A small amount of blood.

Alexei looked at Jonathan and bobbed his head, before the ghoul felt the tugging of unconsciousness. He oblidged and fell.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, Keara finally entered the gates of Megaton. She hated that gate. Its motorized groan made the comings and goings of everyone that much more noticeable. Nobody seemed to give her a second glance, which was good, and nobody pried her with too many questions. While news often traveled quickly, they couldn't possibly have a way of identifying her yet.

She walked casually up the catwalks towards Moriarty's. It was her plan to trade the cigarettes she found for a drink and a room, and get a good night's rest. Of course she would try to find some help, but keeping herself strong and alert was just as important for the success of the mission.

I'll do what I can tonight, but the real work starts tomorrow. I just hope Laura can keep everyone alive and breathing for that long.

She entered the scrap-heap that served as a tavern, and sat down wearily on a bar stool. She told Lucky to sit. He laid down. Given the circumstances, she decided not to argue the semantics of her command.

"Can I get you a drink?" the ghoul behind the counter asked in that haunting, gravelly voice associated with his condition.

"That and a room for the night," she answered, presenting nine packs of cigarettes.

"Hmm..." the ghoul said, inspecting the merchandise, "Very well. A room and a shot of whiskey."


She downed the shot as soon as it was given to her, and began to scan the room. It didn't seem very promising. There was the ghoul clerk, the prostitute in the corner, Moriarty himself, and a few locals. None were openly armed as far as she could tell, but she would keep watching for a while. She sighed and lit one of the cigarettes that she had kept for herself. Her eyelids were drooping, and her hand under her chin seemed to be the only thing holding her head up, but she tried to stay awake. She wanted just a few more minutes to see if someone with any potential would come through the door. Despite her efforts, sleep quickly won out. Her face dropped heavily onto the bar, and her cigarette slipped from her fingers and onto the floor.
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson OOC: I just realized that Jonathan probably should have heard and responded to Raymond's warning before. I'll just pretend Raymond hadn't arived yet. It makes the timeframe a bit wonky, but no major paradoxes.

Alexei puked again before falling over, pinning Jonathan beneath him.
"Hey! Alexei, hang in there! Don't die, friend!" Jonathan yelled at the ghoul but he received no response. The weight of the injured man was making it hard to breath but with a considerable amount of effort, he managed to roll Alexei off of him. It was right that moment that gramps returned to update them on the situation. To put things mildly, it wasn't good.

"Damn! Ok, take the smg if you need another gun. I've got to stop Alexei's bleeding and I'm a lousy shot anyway. I don't care if we surrender or not, but keep them off my back till I get him stable, please!" He said. Jonathan didn't wait for a reply, but focussed completely on his task, blocking out everything else. Right now, his concentration was the same as it always was when he was fixing something stubborn.

"Ok, think Jonathan. Think. His second mouthful of blood was less than the first one. Internal bleeding is slowing down then and he's still breathing....that's good. Now for the abdomen." He gripped the needle in his hand tightly and pierced the flesh right next to the injury while pressing the edges of the wound together with his other hand. Sewing up a body was quite different from stitching up clothing, he discovered, but not so much he wouldn't be able to get the job done. For a moment, he was glad Alexei was unconscious. At least he wouldn't be aware of the amateurish attempt to sew the wound. In and out the needle went, closing the injury tighter with each loop. The mechanic worked faster than he would have preferred, pressed both by the need to save as much of Alexei's remaining blood as possible as he was by the timelimit imposed upon him by the approaching regulators.

When he was halfway through, he spoke up again.
"There's no wound on his back, so the bullet is still in there. Can't take it out, not without making things worse. Need a medic for that. Please give me some more time to finish..." He paused for a second as the needle got stuck in a sore of some sort.
"Two minutes, just one. Please!"

OOC: I think I'll let Jonathan keep sewing till the regulators put a gun to his head. So go ahead and finish things up anyway you like.
Lord Revan
Damon Wyeth

The crowd gathered at the Brass Lantern were placing bets. Just how much whiskey have I had? Damon couldn't remember. Apparently not enough to prevent that little voice from pointing out that was a bad sign. These people were betting dozens of caps! He stole a glance at the 'retired' raider whom he'd inadvertently challanged.

Jericho had to be twice Damon's age, but the 'retired' raider was practically a breathing death threat. His eyes had a look of flat scrutiny, not hate but simple indifference for the subject's life. No one who survived long enough to retire from the raiders was to be crossed.
The taste of whiskey was strong on Damon's tongue. But no amount of drink could convince him to throw his life away over a faux paus in some backwater town. He forced a smile and counted out 30 caps. "This is a quarter of my latest earnings. Please, take it as compensation."

The killer started to sneer at the pile of caps before him, but Damon was on his feet and rapidly making his way to Moriarty's Saloon.

She couldn't have been asleep more than a few minutes before she felt a gooey hand shaking her arm. Keara's eyes opened groggily to see the ghoul server.

"Moriarty says that if you can't sleep in your room, we'll give it to someone else."

"Huh? Oh, right," she answered, rubbing an eye, "I'll get there, don't worry."

She had barely finished the sentence before a newcomer strode in. The first thing she noticed about him was his eye patch. The second, most important thing she saw was the rifle he carried.

"Hey, you," she said to the ghoul barkeep, "You know anything about that guy?"

"I know he's killed some raiders here and there, and he stops by Megaton from time to time. Don't know much else."

Keara was yawning, so she could only nod in answer. She began mindlessly fumbling with her empty shot glass in an effort to look casual. She kept the newcomer in the corner of her eye and waited for him to find a seat.
Laura watched Jonathon work, and knew what she had to do. The Ghouls condition was bad, and while Jonathon could work out what he was doing to a degree, he wasn't a medic, and a medic was what they needed. Without the capability to move the Ghoul to find a doctor, they would have to bring a doctor to them, and there was only one place they'd be able to find one.

With a sigh Laura unclipped her Magnum's holster, dropping it to the ground with the dull thud of heavy metal on loose soil. Her satchel of explosives was lowered carefully down next to it, followed by her bandoliers of grenades.

"Everyone, weapons down, theres only one way we're getting out of this." She declared to know one in particular, mainly to reassure herself that this was the right choice. Before turning towards the mouth of the gulley. "I'm going to fetch some help, if you hear gunshots, it's probably not coming"

She strode into the dark before anyone could object, doing her best to make her apporach obvious short of setting her hair on fire and singing classical music. It didn't take long for a rifle to appear from a ridge top, and several shotguns from the surround foliage. The people wielding them did not look pleased, but no one was shooting which meant relations were already margianly better.

"We're surrendering, in case you hadn't guessed. We have a man down and he needs medical assistance, if he dies then I can assure you we'll waste as much of your time and resources as we can" she told the assembled group of Regulators, drawing sneers and grimaces from a few. "If you'll be kind enough to follow me and not kill any of my men i'd be very pleased" she said, turning and heading off back into the dark. After a short period of muffled conversation she heard heavy footfalls following her. She knew the rest of the Regulators were probably watch from good vantage points, but that didn't matter. She just hoped one of them would be able to patch her heavy weapons specialist up.
Lord Revan
Damon Wyeth

Damon's heart would not stop racing. The interplay of whiskey and adrenaline in his system had him wound up. He dropped down onto a stool and slapped his hands down on the bar harder than he'd liked. The Ghoul server, some poor chump who owed the proprieter a small mountain of caps, asked if he wanted a drink.

"Water'll do." He pulled a canteen from his pack and handed it to the Ghoul. Damon shifted in his seat. He started counting, tapping his index finger on the bar, eye slightly disfocused. Twenty-six, twen... At fifty-one seconds, the server returned with his canteen. He took a sip, but kept counting to himself.

Once he reached two minutes and twenty seconds, Damon's nerves began to calm down. He glanced around the saloon. Aside from a couple locals, the server, and Moriarty's hooker, the hunter noticed a young woman with a dog sitting three stools down.

She looked beat, must have just arrived in town. Aside from the look of exhaustion, she showed the textbook signs of a jet user. Damon casually swept the eyepatch back to his real eye and opened his mouth to speak when his old pal Jericho blasted through the door.

The one-eyed man cast a glance her way, and was even about to speak to her before someone else captured his attention. She followed his glance to the doorway, where another hardened man stood. Keara smelled trouble, but she thought that maybe she could find a way to profit from their inevitable confrontation.

"Looks like you have a friend," she quipped to the man beside her.
OOC: Going to take a 'minor' liberty here and speed things up a bit for the would-be prisoners. So everybody, meet the very first Minor Character!

Regulator Squadleader

Marcellone and his company got a little squeek from a little bird about a raid going down in a far-fetched settlement, a scrawny little village that doesn't even have a name or on today's map. The hardened lawbringer briefly wondered who got the info about the upcoming event, but reckoned that it was probably one of the villagers catching some bad wind or something.

He couldn't shake the feeling of walking into a trap, though.

So when he arrived (the village WAS a scrawny little collection of shacks!) and got fired upon with a hail of angry bullets from a building, he figured that they weren't the only ones who were also informed. He rolled for cover, as did his fellow regulators, and blindfired from his position though with no visual on the hostile it was a wasted effort. Time for Slivers to do his job. Over the cackle of the firefight between his group and the other one, he called for said Silvers and his crew to provide some sniper support.

Judging from Slivers' expression of pure glee, he hit something. The proof became clear when the enemy fire lessened somewhat, but their victory was cut short when they heard single shot and one of the sniper's hat flew several feet away.

"Damn, they got a sniper! Take ample cover and lay low!"

After a few minutes, the whirring sounds of an LMG -Marcellone heard it before, he wasn't sure where- began again. Amidst the thundercracks, he can't help but notice that not one of the bullets hit them. Either the enemy was very, very poor shot or -

It suddenly died out when an explosion shook the earth beneath them and a frantic yells of something along the lines of 'get moving, get moving!'.

Realization punched Marcellone hard in the face. He immediately sprang from his cover and riddled the building with an unhealthy dose of 5.56mm. The door briefly opened, Marcellone crouching where he was at to get a good accuracy, and he saw a barrel.

"What the-,"

Another explosion, and while it was much more smaller the shockwave actually blasted Marcellone back a few feet, him landing hard on the ground. He groaned as he sat up. He saw the building burning pretty good, making it an obstacle. He cursed. Damn raiders are getting smart these days. He looked at his dumfounded comrades and made an annoyed gesture.

"Are you waiting for my birthday, you useless louts? Get after them already!"

He stood up and followed his company as they went around the burning wreckage. Ah ha. So the raiders got in and out by cutting a reasonable portion of the fence? Good thinking. He waited until the rest of regulators went through it before going in himself.

Following them, shouldn't be a problem. They left a bloodtrail that was impossible to miss. So Slivers really did hit something after all. He loaded his R91 Assault Rifle and barked for the greenhorns to follow it, veterans out back.

After a few minutes of trekking, they found a gulley that embraced a large cliff-face. The large wall of rock and stone was beautiful sight indeed, Marcellone remembered to visit this place if he had the time. Then he noticed that all of his company-members were pointing their guns at an unarmed dark-haired woman, hands raised.

Marcellone raised an eyebrow. If she was planning to blow them up while under the giuse of surrendering, she had another thing coming. His worries, though were dashed cruelly upon the rocks of disappointment when the woman spoke up. Her voice, despite her situation, was laced with determination. Marcellone got to hand it to her.

"We're surrendering, in case you hadn't guessed. We have a man down and he needs medical assistance, if he dies then I can assure you we'll waste as much of your time and resources as we can."

That drew some sneers and grimaces, but Marcellone was unaffected. He was curious.

"If you'll be kind enough to follow me and not kill any of my men I'd be very pleased." And when she went further into the gulley, conversations flared up like disturbed ants.

"What if she has some men waiting to ambush us," a voice asked.

"Wouldn't doubt it. Saw her eyes? She's a wolf, she is," another spoke.

"Nah, you pussyfoots worry too much. Ambush us, a large group of regulators? In this place? Bah, recruits these days," a gruff voice admonished.

"Besides, this group is different from the ones we encountered. First, she doesn't wear the usual rags a raider parades around in. Second, she surrendered. If she and her gang ARE raiders, which I very much doubt, she'd rather kill themlseves rather than be captured," a young voice said.

Marcellone silenced them with a mere gesture. Thousands of questions raced through his mind like an untamed wolf. He opted for a choice that would be neutral for both parties.

"Veterans, with me. James too. Little Daniel's right. It's not often you'd get a reasonable 'raider."

With gun still in hand and the hardened veterans at this back, he followed. He made sure that James, their field medic, was close by.

When they reached the end of the gulley, they saw a sad sight. A large ghoul was bleeding pretty heavily and a lanky man was vainly trying to heal him. At this, James spurned into action, though an aged man in strange armor raised his gun. James slowly raised his hands and made sure the old-timer saw his Red Cross.

"I'm a former Follower of the Apocalypse! Don't shoot, I'm going to-,"

Marcellone interrupted him without looking at him.

"Just pump him with Buffout or MedX or something," here he looked at the woman who he now recognized as the leader. His admiration for her grew as he realized that she was surrendering for the sake of her men. A good commander, a rare thing in this world.

"We'll take care of your rotten stinker if you come with us. Contrary to popular belief, we actually take prisoners. As for the matter of you bunch getting freedom . . . That is not my choice to make, but my superior officer."

At the mention of second-in-command of the D.C chapter of the Regulators, every one of the veterans winced. Avery Nichols was one of the sadistic basterds Marcellone ever knew and he doubted that that sadist would let this group go.

No matter what.
Chris 'Mongoose'

It felt like I had been walking all day. My last cig, bustin' my head on them rocks. Yep, aint' nothing gone right for me in the last 4 hours.

Thinking to my self, I took a drag of my cigarette, as i knocked my boots off on the door of the saloon. 'Moriarty's Saloon' It said. I turned the knob, as i chucked the butt into the railings. Upon entrance, I glanced at the bar, and it's barkeep.

'A ghoul' my thoughts said to me. I wasn't surprised at all. I was actually dazed. Hunting and falling should never be in the same category. I kept a hand on my head, as i placed my self at the bar. The blood was slowly oozing down my face, and into my shades.

"One bottle of whiskey, and some cotton balls, please." I politely ordered. I kept a hand on my head, and drew a few gold nuggets from my breastpocket; placing them down discretely on the counter. Trying to keep a low profile, i dropped my pack between my legs, and swung my black m14-E.B.R by the sling to hang between my legs also. My ballistic mask hung low around my neck, as i awaited my order. The drawings on it seems as if a teen drew on it, as it had a pair of voluptuous lips, pressed against a vein-ridden p----.

"You look like s---." The ghoul barkeep said, handing off the jug of whiskey and cotton balls; scooping up the nuggets. "Thanks, beautiful." I replied. I drew my knife, as i skewered the cotton balls onto the blade, dousing them with whiskey.

'Cave man cauterizing' I playfully thought. Through profiling and examination, I stood up from my seat, knife in hand. "Does anyone have a light?" I shouted to the bar.

Feeling eyes burn into your skin in 5....4....3....2...1...

Lord Revan
Damon Wyeth

"I do believe that man intends to inflict great harm upon my person." He mused glumly. "Why can't I enjoy a few shots in this backwater without offending the locals?."

Another man came in behind Jericho. The armed newcomer looked even worse than the girl, bloodied and a bit spaced out. Jericho didn't seem to take kindly to the man's earnest manner. Damon turned back to the girl. "I'd have a mind to become scarce for awhile. Perhaps we can talk later, miss."

With that he quickly stood and made his way upstairs to the bedrooms.
Laura rolled her shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension from the day. Her friends were safe for now, so she could relax for a bit, and she doubted she'd be doing much running from here on out. The regulators had been easier to win over than she expected, not that she was complaining, but she couldn't help but get the feeling it was mostly their superiors influence that had saved them.

"Sure as hell beats a bullet in the back though" Laura said with a shrug. Her team weren't idiots, they knew the deal, but they also knew that rotting a cell was not something Laura had down on her to do list. She was going to get them out, somehow. "Your commanding officer will likely want to hear the whole story, or if not I sure as hell am gonna tell him it anyway."
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson, and the doctor dude

He hadn't even noticed the arrival of the regulators untill the moment he was shoved aside by one of them. Jonathan wanted to voice a protest, demand to be allowed to finish his task. One look at the red cross the stranger wore on his arm kept his mouth shut though.

"Hmm, that's a pretty lousy job you did there." The man said as he inspected the stitches.
"I'm a mechanic, not a doctor! Did all I could!" Jonathan snapped back. While he knew the regulator's medic was right, he still fellt offended. What was he supposed to do, let Alexei die without even trying to help him?

The medic shrugged.
"Seen a lot worse, both in terms of injuries and first aid. He'll make it." He said and looked over his shoulder at Marcellone. His commander was busy dealing with the rest of the surrendering process and collecting the weapons the raiders possessed. Turning to the mechanic next to him, James saw that the man seemed unarmed. There was a discarded smg at his feet though, which the medic scooped up before the raider got any ideas.
"At least as far as our headquarters." James added with another shrug. One hand held the smg, the other retrieved a syringe from his pack.
"Shoot him up with this, make sure it gets in the bloodstream proper. And no funny moves."

While Jonathan stabbed the syringe in the ghoul's neck, the regulator stepped back to Marcellone's side.
"Done, let the raiders carry him."

"Don't call me a raider again, unless you want to see a ranger veteran in action. If I were you, I'd listen to the smart guy over there." Raymond growled to the medic. "Doesn't the NCR mean anything here?"
EDIT: Did not saw your post until today, Grif! So sorry! I edited my post so you can, y'know, interact with the REgulators. Sorry again, Eleventh Grif!


From the corner of his eyes, Marcellone saw James shove aside the lanky-looking man and work on the downed ghoul. The man can't help but notice that the mutated person had on a duster that looked eerily like a Regulator's, except gray. If he was one, Marcellone mused, he wouldn't have shot at a fellow lawbringer. His attention went from the injured person to the group's leader.

She flexed her shoulders a bit, trying to relax and maintain her calmness. Judging by the slightly eased look on her face, she achieved it.

"Sure as hell beats a bullet in the back though," she said with a shrug. And Marcellone can't help but agree. Getting captured was infinitely more better than getting killed, his similar experiences told him that. But veering too close to sympathy would be dangerous. It would compromise them in many ways.

"Your commanding officer will likely want to hear the whole story, or if not I sure as hell am gonna tell him it anyway."

At this, Marcellone let out a chuckle. A pained and amused chuckle. She clearly did not meet Marcellone's superior officer. Avery Nichols was reliable on beating people up than letting them explain their side of the story.

"Well, good luck with that, miss," he said. It felt somewhat strange speaking to an enemy commander, but Marcellone supposed that this day was anything but. Here he motioned for the veterans to snatch their weapons away.

A .44 revolver and a satchel filled with god-knows-what, followed by a bandolier of grenades.

When a modified RPD was presented to the bundle of captured weapons, Marcellone can't help but ogle it suspiciously, his eyes glazing in nostalgia. When he was still a grunt, one of his former superior officers had this kind of weapon too, albeit without the grip nor the laser sight. Marcellone made sure to question who ever owned this weapon -probably the ghoul- and ask him where he got such a thing.

When it was all done, Marcellone ordered some of the guys to get the rookies and haul the catch off. He turned to the woman, but before he could say something, James appeared on his side. He seemed pretty pleased with himself, probably because he showed his superiority in the field of healing to the lanky man.

"Done, let the raiders carry him."

Marcellone gave him a strange look.

"You do know that there are only two men in the 'raiders' group? And catching up on age and bones probably getting brittle," here he looked to both men, eyes saying 'no offense'. "And it is obvious that the lady here can't do it on herself. Nah, let some of the boys carry the stinker."

After a bit of grumbling and outright snarling, four of the veterans managed to lift the ghoul up. By their strength combined, they said that they could manage, even though the burden they're carrying is 300 pounds.

"OK, now that all is said and done, wrap them blindfolds on 'em," he said. He looked at the woman, spreading his hands as if in apology.

"Gotta make the location of our base private, you know?"

Here, James scoffed.

"As if these lowly raiders have it in their skills to even remember things, apart from rutting each other senseless and injecting some chems into their system!"

A silence among the Regulators. The field medic certainly had a mouth, particulary if he perceived he was in a winning position, and Marcellone decided that he had heard enough.

"Listen James, I just have enough of your gum-flappin-," but was cut off by an angry snarl from the old man in the strange armor.

"Don't call me a raider again, unless you want to see a ranger veteran in action. If I were you, I'd listen to the smart guy over there." Raymond growled to the medic. "Doesn't the NCR mean anything here?"

At the word NCR, every Regulator including Marcellone pointed their guns at him, suddenly tensed and nervous. A Ranger, a veteran one at that? Well damn but did they hit the jackpot on this one. Of course they heard about the NCR. The Californian chapter of Regulators worked hand in hand with the Rangers against the slavers there. Avery Nichols may have found his equal in combat skill in this Ranger.

A question remained though. Marcellone spoke, awed.

"Seems a little far from California, aren't you? How the hell did you survive the distance between lovely ol' D.C and the Republic? And why is a veteran Ranger doing with these . . . colorful bunch? Please don't tell me we got a rogue Ranger in our midst."

"Do what you gotta do," she replied simply to the one-eyed man. She watched him while he walked upstairs, but was interrupted by another man asking anyone and everyone for a light.

"Hey," she said, tossing a book of matches in his direction, "There's only a couple left. Keep it."

The newcomer also looked as if he could handle himself, which brought the total count of potential recruits up to three. There was the one-eyed man, the man he was running from, and this newcomer with vulgar drawings on his mask. She realized suddenly that names might be useful.

The latter looked to be in rough shape as blood was running down his face, but if it was too severe an injury he wouldn't be calmly sitting at a bar self-medicating with whiskey.
Chris 'Mongoose'

I heard a voice call out, 'Hey' as i snapped my attention to the right. I was caught off guard, as a matchbook landed in my hands.

With a nod of appreciation, I returned to my seat, lighting the skewered 'whiskey-balls' on fire, as I built up the courage to cauterize the wound. "F--k, F--k, F--k!" I said, as i pressed the blazing blade to my head.

Like an iron to hair, I held the burning blade to my wound. I took my free hand, and shuttled down another shot of whiskey. I dropped the still-glowing blade on the counter in pain, then asked the barkeep for another shot.

"Pour me another one." I said, as the ghoul looked to me in confusion; and poured me a glass. "Are you sure that stuff is....clean to do?" He asked. I shrugged, as i burped. "It's what i got. It aint bleedin' no more, so im sure it's to do."

Lord Revan
Damon Wyeth

He locked the door behind him. His ruck was already packed with a 2 liter water resevoir, magazines, maps, and other supplies. Damon slipped his canteen into a coat pocket, and grabbed his rifle from underneath the bed. He made sure the Schofield was loaded and the hammer rested on an empty chamber before smashing out the window.

Damon stuck his head out, no one appeared to investigate the crash. He slung the M16, dropped his ruck onto the dirt, and crawled through the window onto a refrigerator standing next to Moriarty's Saloon. After retrieving his pack, Damon unslung his rifle and made his way to the gate.

The hunter felt confident his supplies would last a few days crawl around the surrounding region. Then he could stop by Craterside to stock up and catch a caravan.

His words must have spooked the regulators, because now he had an uncomfortable amount of gun barrels pointed at him. "Calm down!"He said to the group " Contrary to popular belief, an unarmed Ranger veteran in his forties cant kill a whole group of regulators."

"Rookies," he muttered, before turning to the leader. "why I'm here is for Laura to say to your commander. How I got here is a long tale. Don't knock us out and you might find out."

Marcellone gave a shrug.

"Another tale to be told perhaps. Maybe even told in a biography or something. But, my decision for you lot to be bound is final. And healthy for us too; no matter how many times an enemy proves he won't do you harm, he usually does."

From his back-pocket, he produced pre-war cuffs. He can't help but like this Ranger, though he can say the same for any other entity that abides the laws and helps maintains it.

"Turn around, g-pops, and put down that beauty of yours. You're under arrest for being a veteran ranger." At his own joke, he chuckled.

He turned to the woman, Laura, and the lanky man. He made a gesture. Several regulators bearing cuffs approached them.

"Make sure to cover their faces with garbage bags, men. Like I said, have to make the base secret, yeah?"
jack cloudy
Jonathan Guntherson

He had no idea what the syringe contained. It could be poison, or it could be the wonderdrug that would heal all of Alexei's wounds and cure his ghouldom. Most likely however, it was just something that would keep him down for the count during the trip to the regulatorbase. So he injected it into the Ghoul's neck. Besides, what choice did he have? He wasn't in the position to make any demands or refuse any orders. Behind his back, it seemed that gramps had become the focus of attention. Jonathan was a bit worried that his and Laura's attitude would get them all killed. No, don't make that a bit. Make that very worried.
"Woah, calm down. Don't try to start a fight here!" He shouted over his shoulder. The regulators ignored his outburst and levelled their rifles at Raymond. Fortunately for them all, Raymond regained his composure and their captors settled down again.

"Right, that should do it." The mechanic muttered to himself and squeezed out the last few drops. As he got up, he tossed the empty syringe back at the medic and put his hands in the pockets of his coat. At this, the regulator looking to cuff him stepped back again with a suspecting expression. Jonathan could almost hear the man thinking, asking himself if the old guy was about to whip out a pistol and shoot him. He was almost right in that. Jonathan did indeed feel the cold metal of his tiny sidearm brushing against his hand. He was not planning on using it though. He pulled his hands back out, showing his empty palms to the regulator.

"Oh hey, before you guys cuff me. Right pocket please. Forgot I put a gun in there. I'd empty it out myself but in the light of goodwill and plain common sense, I think I'll let one of you do it. And err, then you guys can get on with the cuffing and blindfolding right?" He giggled nervously.

Keara fought off her instinctual desire to sleep for a little longer, in hopes of making some progress. She reminded herself that whatever she felt, her friends had it ten times worse with the Regulators. The thought didn't make her any less exhausted.

I could use a boost. she thought, as her fingers automatically toyed with the empty inhaler in her pocket.

Knowing that jet wouldn't magically appear, she pushed the thought away. She stood and moved over a couple of stools to sit beside the stranger with the whiskey. Lucky didn't move a muscle.

"Safer than drinking it, I'm sure," she said, deciding to butt in, "That's a pretty nasty gash. Where'd you get it?"
Chris 'Mongoose'

With my right hand on my M-14, i flicked the selector from burst to semi. I took a swig from my cup, then proceeded to adjust my glasses. I was in that zone again. All the pain not really setting, or really leaving. A girl's voice asks about the cauterized scar running down my temple.

"Ya ever been huntin? Ya know, when you stalk a prey for miles, all for the kill?" I said, pulling the glasses from my face. "Well, I thought I found an old friend. A priest. Been huntin this bad priest from the west, and i thought i found him. I also thought it would be good to chew on this skunky plant too." I spat in a sarcastic and ominous voice.

"Well, he got away again." I sighed. I turned to right, as I gazed towards the girl, locking down on her grey pearls. "With me being 5 rounds out." I flicked at my rifle with my right, and leaned my head on my left hand. She looks a bit skinny, and sad; if not drained, from her facial features. She gives me the urge to...pout, or feel down.

Keara grinned; she could already tell this guy was a character. More the type of person she was used to when compared with Laura and her crew. His folksy story captivated her with few words, and she almost didn't realize that he'd completely dodged her question. Almost.

"So..." she said, still digesting the tale, "Unless this priest whacked you one good time, it still doesn't explain the gash."

She used the scalding-hot knife he'd left on the bar earlier to light another cigarette. Two hundred years stale, but she still liked the things. She wondered sometimes what a fresh one would be like, before the war and the radiation. When people drove cars, grew healthy crops, and had an abundance of fresh, clean water...

Her thoughts drifted further and further from reality, and it wasn't until she opened her eyes a moment later that she realized that she'd dozed off for a second. She hadn't dropped her cigarette this time, though, so she took another drag.

"It's okay," she said, suddenly remembering the conversation she was in the middle of, "You don't have to tell me what happened, 'cause honestly I don't give a molerat's a--. I need some help with a problem and I'm looking to hire a couple o' mercs."
Chris 'Mongoose'

She caught my interest when she made note of her search for 'Mercs'. "You know" He started, "Me and that priest have been fighting each other for a while now." I picked at the blood specs, occasionally looking up at the girl. "He never gave me more than 700 yards of distance to fight from. One shot to my five; He blew my helmet off with one of them Gauss Rifles."

Still nit-picking at my scab, I continued. "In any case, my....half sleeping beauty" he said, taking note of the lost, if not fatigued look the girl obviously displayed. "Until I hear about him again, I would love a new challenge to ease my mind."

"I also know how to treat wounds....If you were trying to rid your self of that jet addiction." I noted, Looking up at the girl. Drug addiction was probably the worst thing to get into, especially now. Less people and less doctors to treat you. This girl, she smelled like jet as soon as she walked up on me. It's saddening to see people like this. Makes me question hope, faith, and all that mumbo jumbo.

Keara shook her head, "I'm afraid I don't have the time for treatment, and I bet you don't have the supplies to spare. I'll either have to score some soon or trek across the desert feeling like crap."

She didn't want to be 'cured.' Things would just go back to the way they were before. Jet was her lifeblood. It was mostly to thank for her quick trek to Megaton earlier that day, and allowed her to push her bodily limits, which had saved her many a time. More importantly to her, though, it made her feel alive.

"But if you're looking for a challenge, I think you may have found it," she said, "My crew has been feuding with these other badass mercs for a while, right? Well, things got hairy earlier today, and I was the only one that escaped. I came here to find help so I can get back there and find 'em, if they're still alive."

It was only half of a lie, but had enough truth in it to avoid many suspicions.
Chris 'Mongoose'

"There are other ways than pills and substances to quell an addiction." I said with a smirk. Shaking my braclet; marked : Combat Life-Saver, I shot imaginary bullets at her. "When do i start?" I barked.

Standing up, i adjusted my gear at once. I never think about this kind of stuff. The hunt is all I ever think about now. This will be good. Right? "So" as I was adjusting my gear. "How many more do you need? I got my rifle, my pistol, a stocked rucksack, and my trusty knife" I boasted. I smirked, as i flaunted my desert-sprayed M-14.


"I need as many hands as I can get, but I'm short on time," she answered, "Doesn't matter if I got one person or ten, I'm leaving by noon tomorrow."

In the meantime, she would get a bit of rest, and hopefully find a few more pairs of hands. If all went well, she and her new helpers would be able to return to the settlement by nightfall, rest that night and be on the trail the next morning. Hopefully this would all happen without the Regulators catching wind of her movements.

"The name's Keara, by the way. Meet me right outside the gate tomorrow if you're serious about this."

Chris 'Mongoose'

Chris nodded, as he slowed himself down. "Right, Call me Mongoose." He said, tipping her a two finger salute.

I raised my rifle up, as I shot Keara a wink. I held the rifle barrel up, and twisted a sound suppressor onto my M-14.

"Just holler at me, If im not already awake before you. I'll be upstairs in a room." I brushed by her, as I trudged upstairs.

I feel rather hyped up about this. A calming excitement. Maybe i'll fix me some coffee before we step off tomorrow.
Brian Wolfe

Brian opened his eyes to see the others there in the 'company' of the Regulators. "Greetings," he coughed. "Who are you... Prime Normals?" His eyes followed the movement of each of them, but nobody could be quite sure what he was thinking. Around his neck was a necklace with some strange item on it.

"I'm Brian," he said with a hoarse voice. His purple and gold robe hood was pulled back to reveal burnt skin and no hair. Brian slowly looks at each of them before he pulls back his hood.
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