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Fandom Fallout: Into the Light [IC]
- Thread starter ghostlynarcissus
- Start date
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- Tags
- fallout fandom gritty nuclear video game
Namazu
Baron of Bad Boys
MICAIAH 'MIC' SOLOMON
GOODNEIGHBOR - MARKETS
EARLY EVENING
“Yes, yes, you explained before that you ’hate waiting’ but we’re not talking about waiting for radstag flanks to grill or water to boil here-” Mic cut himself off before he could continue on and call Jumpsuit Man a crazy fucker. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, but he had some restraint yet.
Mic carefully peered around the chimney as he slid his jacket back on, still not seeing any sign of who fired the gunshot. It made him nervous to even move out from his perch, but he couldn’t stay up here all day. Certainly not if people were going to be coming this way shortly to investigate all the ruckus. He’d have to take a gamble.
“The gunshot?” He asked, in response to Vicente’s question. “Nah.” Keeping low against the roof, Mic scooted around to the edge of the building, compound bow slung over one shoulder. Finding handholds and footholds on eaves, windowsills, and ancient bricks jutting out unevenly from the building and ledge, Mic scurried his way down from the roof to the alleyway. His boots hit the rough gravel-dusted ground with a quiet crunch and he strode forward to the raider he’d killed. Putting one boot to the man’s shoulder, he rolled the corpse over onto its stomach and leaned down, carefully pulling the arrow from the dead man’s neck.
“The arrow though? All me, baby.” Was he bragging? Yeah. Maybe a little. He wiped the bloody arrow - still in one piece, no cracks! - against the dead man’s shirt, gave it a little toss into the air so it flipped once, caught it, and slid it back into his small quiver at his lower back under his coat.
“I didn’t see them up there either. So that still leaves the uncomfortable question of who was it that shot first. If they’re not with you, and they’re not with me, and they sure as shit aren’t with these clowns...” Mic motioned towards the bodies on the ground - then approached the unconscious man whose pockets Vicente had rifled through.
Unslinging his crowbar-axe from his hip, Mic frowned down at the body and, with some hesitation, raised the weapon and brought it down on the raider’s neck. The force of the impact not only sliced through flesh, muscle, and blood vessels, but broke the man’s neck as well. It wasn’t a total decapitation, but more than enough to end him.
“He saw our faces. Can’t spare him.” Mic grunted apologetically as he tugged the weapon out of the corpse’s neck.
“We gotta get moving before someone decides to come look around for the source of all the gunshots. I don’t know about you, but I’m not sticking around to offer any explanations.”
Karcen
Ten Thousand Club
two down and three to go, kinda. The synth not destroyed by Justin really wasn't in any state to be much of a threat. Missing one arm and half of it sensors the thing was about as dangerous as a man that had the same happen to them. No that was wrong it was less of a threat a human might had a sudden adrenaline surge a last screw you to their attacker, but a machine lacked any such mechanisms and could only flail about with the errors in it's systems mounting. That honestly just left two and their lasers while burning hotter than normal red ones were following basic center of mass targeting. That didn't work well on someone as heavily armored as Nicola.
Two more blasts of plasma and the synths fell apart. The things were far more delicate than Nicola would have expected, but for long as she could get parts of them she could likely learn how they worked and improve things in her armor. While Nicola knew she could be called arrogant she wasn't so arrogant that she thought she would solve all this in a short time and likely the synths would be a dead end. Nicola looked back tot he last synth and for a moment debated killing it as well, but that choice was taken from her as in a bright flash it was gone.
That was far more than Nicola had expected, she had seen similar tech once, or well heard of it once. That was only in the experimental stages and required machines at both ends or at least powerful signals at both ends. Teleportation, this institute really was something else and Nicola wanted to meet them more. She hadn't quite figured out how to get on their good side, but she would figure that out latter as she wanted their secrets, the secrets of synths.
" Well that is one hell of a trick" Nicola said though on the ground the mangled bodies of the four downed synths remained so they needed to be active to leave and only took the thing that called. " But i think we came out ahead, its far more than i thought we would get" She said a note of happiness in her voice as she walked forward and picked up a synth head " So many secrets in such a little package"
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Liamdean4510
Colonel Alexander
Colonel Abraham Alexander
Location: Diamond City Outskirts
Time: Around 1 AM
After a long day of hunting down a Raider group, Abraham set up camp in a building near Diamond City, the only reasons that he didn't settle inside the city is because of the fees and all the rumors in the city, it wore him out hearing them rabble on all day about if the Mayor is a synth or not, he only pops in occasionally for a cheap meal and to trade with the Commonwealth Weaponry guy, Arturo, Abraham liked him, he was pretty chill, nice, and didn't annoy the hell out of him with the rumors and all of that.As he was falling asleep, he felt something nudge his side, "Hey! You alive, buddy?" Abraham groaned and looked up, it was Diamond City Security, the guy was nudging him with a baseball bat, or a "swatter" as the townsfolk called it, "Yeah, thanks." He muttered in response to the Security guard, rubbing his eyes as his fireplace crackled about 5 feet from his bed. "No problem. Say, if you're so close to the city, why aren't you in it for the night? A lot safer than camping out here." The D.C Security guard asked him, Abraham knew that the guard was right, but still, he absolutely hated the city. "Well, I just don't like the city, it's overpriced to get a room and even if I did get one, I wouldn't be able to sleep with how loud it is." Abraham said as he stood up and stretched, grabbing his helmet and putting it on, along with his goggles. Abraham stomped out his campfire and packed up his makeshift camp, also making sure he grabbed his Service Rifle. "If you say so, just keep yourself safe, yeah?" The Security guard said before walking off towards the barricades that surrounded Diamond City's entrance. Abraham nodded and wished the guard good luck before starting to walk towards the bridge just North of Diamond City, where the USS Riptide was.
Liamdean4510
Colonel Alexander
Colonel Abraham Alexander
Location: Wreck of the USS Riptide
Time: Around 2AM
As Abraham walked towards the bridge, he saw the lights on the little raft behind the ship, along with the Raiders. He crouched down and peeked over the bridge, trying to count how many Raiders were on the ship, that’s when he saw it, the Raider clad in Power Armor. Abraham let out an audible sigh, one a little bit two loud, and one of the Raiders looked directly at him, “Boss, there’s someone here!” Abraham overheard the Raider call for their leader, the man in Power Armor he presumed. “Oh, really?” The Raider Boss said, “Well, let’s go show ‘em what happens when you cross Raider territory!” Abraham tensed up and began sweating a bit, even though it was nearly freezing temperatures.
Abraham wiped some sweat off of his forehead and began to talk, “Don’t shoot! I’m just passing by!” He said as he raised his arms in a surrendering manner, putting his Service Rifle next to him. The only reply he heard was a gunshot as his pinky finger came flying off, he let out a short and high scream before grabbing his rifle and making a run for it, gunshots whizzing over his head as he ran for the other side of the bridge. Abraham soon realized that he was gonna have to fight them if he wanted to live another day, he steadied his Service Rifle on the concrete guardrail and began taking shots at the Power Armor Raider. He watched as the Raider began staggering backwards, before one final shot in the head sent him onto the floor, he had defeated the Raider Boss.
He dropped the spent magazine and reloaded his rifle, and slowly but surely took out the remaining Raiders. Abraham groaned in pain as his pinky finger was still oozing blood rapidly onto the floor, a part of his service rifle was stained red and his armor had a dark red smear across it. He stood up and began walking back towards Diamond City to get patched up and clean his stuff.
Safton
Mr. Heartbreaker
Vicente "Vic" Alcaraz
Goodneighbor - Market
Vicente pointedly ignored the stranger’s rant as he continued to rifle through the fallen Raider’s pockets, tuning him out until the man admitted that he was not – in fact – the one who had fired the initial gunshot (not that he missed the opportunity to gloat about the arrows, of course). Either way, the revelation had the Paladin anxiously glancing upward toward the surrounding rooftops. What to make of that? The shooter wasn’t with either of them, evidently… but if he/she/it was hostile they would likely already be dead.
Vic flinched, but only slightly as the crowbar whipped past his face to bury the attached blade deep within the spinal cord of the thug on the ground in front of him. He glanced up at the stranger, seeing the casual expression upon his face as he jerked the weapon free with a wet plop. Alcaraz had seen enough to be convinced that this man didn’t mean him any harm… at the moment, anyway. And yet his assessment of the potential danger he posed remained unchanged.
“Agreed,” Vicente remarked, standing up and assessing the haul of goods he had removed from the pockets and pouches of the now-corpse. It wasn’t much: a few bottle caps, a Stimpak, a knife, and a bit of Rad-X that looked like it had seen better days. He led the way out of the alley, sparing a few glances down at the bodies they passed to see if anything else might catch his eye. When they reached the end of the alley, he leaned out to make sure the coast was clear. Satisfied, he gave a nod – as much to himself as his impromptu companion – before darting out into the street and across the block, putting distance between himself and the site of the massacre.
He wasn’t surprised to see that the archer was following him and once Vicente was satisfied that they were far enough from the site of the scuffle, he turned around suddenly to face him. “Thank you,” he said flatly – like one being forced to apologize for hitting their sibling by a stern parent. “My name’s Vicente. Alcaraz.” His tone was clipped and terse, as if the remarks were less an introduction and more an unrelated series of facts the stranger might need to know. Then, almost as an afterthought: “Most people call me Vic.”
NanLia
the one and only
AVA PEARSON
VAULT #44
Megilagor
My feelings are like schrodingers cat.
Namazu
Baron of Bad Boys
MICAIAH 'MIC' SOLOMON
GOODNEIGHBOR - MARKETS
EARLY EVENING
There was safety in numbers - assuming your numbers weren’t idiots or reckless. It was too soon to tell if Jumpsuit Man was either of those for certain, but the winds were sure blowing towards ‘yes’ right now. Still, Mic decided to take the chance and stick with the lunkhead for now. Mic trailed after him, following Alcaraz out of the alleyway, across the block, and into another alleyway. His footsteps were light, nearly silent, as he took long strides after Jumpsuit Man.
When Jumpsuit Man abruptly stopped and turned around, Mic damn near ran into him.
Mic stared at him - Vicente Alcaraz, apparently not a master of smooth thank-yous - and couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his nickname. What were the chances?
“Micaiah Solomon. Most people call me Mic. Now, obviously, we can’t have a Vic and a Mic because then we’ll have to endure stupid jokes about whether we’re related, a package deal, married, or just trying to be cute. So I’m gonna call you Alcaraz.” Mic fingergunned at Alcaraz with both hands.
A low whistle interrupted whatever was going to come out of his mouth next, and Mic whirled around on one heel to find the source of the whistle. Mic raised an eyebrow at the unassuming young woman in a brightly colored dress, giving her a singular look-over. It wasn’t the pistol that surprised him, but the dress. The damn brightly-colored, look-at-me-over-here neon-sign dress. Bright fabrics that were not only clean, but any color other than dirt, leather, and struggle just reeked of privilege, in his experience.
But privileged people didn’t talk about getting involved... not when it came to raiders…
“Well, Goddamn.” Mic leaned back a little on one foot, looking the woman over appraisingly. “Is this our magical mystery shooter-from-on-high?” His tone was playful, but not sarcastic or condescending. He elbowed Vic in the side.
“You’re going to have to say thank you again. It sounded like it hurt the first time. Do you think you can do it?” Mic grinned at Vic, then turned his attention back to Ava.
“Thanks. I mean it. That was a damn good shot. I don’t know where you were hunkered down, but you were hidden well.”
Safton
Mr. Heartbreaker
Vicente "Vic" Alcaraz
Goodneighbor - Market
Vicente looked the newest stranger up and down. He tried not to be one for preconceived notions, but if he had been forced to guess at who had fired the fateful shot that had kicked off the little scuffle in the alleyway just moments ago, he wouldn't have guessed at a short young woman in an almost fluorescent sundress. But then again, the Wastes had a habit of throwing curve balls at you. The woman's telltale rifle was slung across her back... the damn thing looked nearly as long as she was tall, but she carried it -- and herself -- with an utmost confidence.
Alcaraz turned as his first companion -- Mic, apparently -- began speaking first to the newcomer and then to him. He pursed his lips at Solomon's blatant jab... one he had no intention of answering. Thus far, the man had done little to dissuade Vicente from his original assessment of him... he was definitely a talker. Alcaraz had no idea why Mic saw fit to throw his name to the wayside "to prevent confusion" as if they were now partners who would be traveling in one anothers' company or introducing themselves to strangers on a regular basis. Right now? Timely intervention or not, Vicente would sooner partner up with a Brahmin.
Pointedly ignoring the man, the Paladin narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Why'd you shoot?" he asked flatly.
Karcen
Ten Thousand Club
Nicola would like to start work on dissecting the secrets of the mechanical synths, but she didn't really like the area enough to want to let Justin go out alone. There were to many muties for her tastes which honestly likely would be zero. Her definition of Mutie was a bit different than how it had been to others before the first defeat of the Enclave. To her a Mutie was the ghouls, the super mutants, those kinds of things that were far to away from humanity to be called human anymore. it was all because of FEV and she had seen records from the capitol back before raven rock was destroyed, of the vault that had been filled by super mutants created by FEV. While there weren't any super mutants here ghouls were abundant. Those things were one bad day from losing their senses and attacking any none ghoul. She didn't like them she didn't trust them, but he wasn't about to go around killing them. She wasn't enclave, she was alone aside from Justin and he seemed to like them.
So Nicola had come with Justin into the market, though a person in highly custom power armor without a doubt attracted attention. Still there was no other way for Nicola to be she had to be in the armor. It was just a good thing that none of the lasers had pierced the reenforced tubes and joints. While not as strong as the metal of her armor, the tubes were no longer as weak as one might think and could handle some small arms fire. Anti tank rifles were still a bane of her existence, but thankfully they were rare. Given Justin was doing the selling Nicola was acting the part of protector her gun at the ready as if she was hired muscles as she scanned the crowd for any threats, half hoping some mutie would start something so she could channel her dislike of them into just one of them.
Is she knew what was in the nearby alleyway though, she might end up being the one to start a fight, but for now she was ignorant of the dead in the ally and just who was there.
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Elias Wren
Junior Member
Julian noticed the woman's attention shift and leaned to the side in an attempt to see why. It was apparent the moment he laid eyes on the Child of Atom, a strange sight in most parts of the wasteland but even stranger still in a mostly civilized place like this. He only had one encounter with them in the past and it was not pleasant, ending with a trip to the local doctor for radiation sickness.
"Careful Ximena, those types are not the most friendly. I've had dealings in the past the ended poorly."
Julian opted to listen and wait, turning in his stool to eavesdrop on their conversation, resting his elbows up on the bar now facing forward. The talk of payment and a job did interest him, but knowing that cult it was probably just a way to recruit more unsuspecting wastelanders.
"Careful Ximena, those types are not the most friendly. I've had dealings in the past the ended poorly."
Julian opted to listen and wait, turning in his stool to eavesdrop on their conversation, resting his elbows up on the bar now facing forward. The talk of payment and a job did interest him, but knowing that cult it was probably just a way to recruit more unsuspecting wastelanders.
OrpheusTalks
perma suprised
Into the Light
Silas
O Divine Atom, core of all, from which infinite galaxies unfold,
Hear our humble voices as we seek Thy radiant embrace.
In Thy endless energy, we find our path,
In Thy boundless glow, we see our truth.
Amen
Location: Goodneighbor; Third Rail
With: Ximena, Julian
Wearing: A weathered leather jacket and dusty goggles
Carrying: Geiger counter, pockets filled with various things.
Hear our humble voices as we seek Thy radiant embrace.
In Thy endless energy, we find our path,
In Thy boundless glow, we see our truth.
Amen
Location: Goodneighbor; Third Rail
With: Ximena, Julian
Wearing: A weathered leather jacket and dusty goggles
Carrying: Geiger counter, pockets filled with various things.
He ignored the man speaking towards the tanned, curious woman.
"A desire to for information," he murmured back , "nothing dishonorable." His tone was careful still, he did not know anyone in these lands.
Still, he raised a hand to place over his heart before giving the woman a polite bow of his head. Once he raised himself back, he found his voice again.
"Silas March. I'm looking for a guide; someone who is more than capable of protecting themselves and one other through the lands." Briefly, his gaunt eyes flickered towards Julian. Sizing him up before looking back towards Ximena.
He reached a hand slowly into his coat, quick to make no sudden movements. "I'm retrieving some documents," he assured them as he rustled inside of the coat. The rather abrasive ghoul by the entrance had searched him thoroughly, but it was best to be clear when dealing with these sorts. One wrong move and there wouldn't be anyone left to attempt the journey.
Within a moment he pulled out a faded Pre-War flyer. It was rather durable if it was authentic, but much of the lettering seemed faded. He placed it on the bar table before the two, unfolding it and tapping it's contents gently with a finger.
Acadia National Park. Speaking to the Ghouls, it was once a lush vibrant park known to attract tourists and nature enthusiasts alike. That of course wasn't why it held any interest in it.
"I need to go here, " he began, speaking quietly and leaning in so just the two would be able to hear him. "As I said perhaps a bit too loudly before, I can offer sizeable payment for my safe passage."
Played by: Orphy
NanLia
the one and only
AVA PEARSON
VAULT #44
Namazu
Baron of Bad Boys
MICAIAH 'MIC' SOLOMON
GOODNEIGHBOR - MARKETS
EARLY EVENING
At the Ad Victoriam comment, and the woman’s bizarre little salute, Mic raised an eyebrow, leaning first away from the woman, then away from Vic. The jumpsuit had registered to him as a uniform of some kind, but it didn’t click until now exactly what kind of uniform.
Ah shit. Fucking Brotherhood.
This was a dangerous situation he had walked in on, and he was an idiot for getting involved. An idiot for not seeing it sooner. But how often had he seen the Brotherhood out of their terrifying power-armor and in their tighty-whities? Never, not that he could recall. But… he also couldn’t just turn around and walk away abruptly. That would raise too many red flags and look suspicious. He just had to play it cool. Be casual. Maybe he could turn this to his advantage somehow.
Fucking Brotherhood, he was still thinking, as he flashed the pair a smile and winked at Ava.
“A purveyor! Well met, Ava.” He offered the woman his hand for a shake. “Well, now you’ve seen something new in the wasteland. And honestly, I just had to intervene. I mean…” He trailed off a moment, motioning at Vic with his free hand not offered for a shake before turning his attention to the man again.
“You got pickpocketed by a little kid. It was actually kind of hilarious. In like, a really depressing what-have-we-come-to-as-a-society sort of way. So I just rebalanced karma a bit. Yes, yes, I know, there is an argument to be made that if a child is stealing money he probably needs it but…” He trailed off, motioning vaguely down the street towards where the remnants of the marketplace were, with the vendors that still had their wares out and stalls up. The child had gone that direction, and there was a chance he was still down there, somewhere, looking for another mark.
“Philosophical shit and whatnot that you don’t want to listen to. I don't know. Anyway. Maybe he won’t grow up in a life of crime and shoot any of us when we’re decrepit old people eating paste.” Mic shrugged, letting his hands drop to his sides.
If he couldn’t run from the Brotherhood’s grunt here, maybe he could guilt trip the guy and make him feel bad for a while, or something.
Yep, playing it cool.
“You folks sticking around Goodneighbor for long? ‘Cause I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Safton
Mr. Heartbreaker
Vicente "Vic" Alcaraz
Goodneighbor - Market
Vicente’s jaw tightened so quickly and so hard that he thought his teeth might crack as they ground against one another. The woman knew. She knew who he was, what he was. What he represented. He had been in the Wastes long enough to know that this alone could potentially be enough to make him a target. The Brotherhood had no shortage of enemies, after all.
But this woman, Ava, didn't seem to be one of those. If she wanted to kill him for his allegiance, she would have done so… or at the very least she wouldn't have so boldly announced her knowledge of him. She hadn't done so as a threat, but seemingly rather to make it clear to Vic that he wasn't fooling anyone. She had proclaimed herself to be a “purveyor”. Vic was no idiot. He knew very well that this was no more than a euphemism for “scavenger at best and outright thief at worst”.
The Paladin pointedly ignored Mic as he goaded him with remarks about the pickpocket incident. His bruised ego at falling prey to a child thief’s deft hand was the least of his concerns right now, especially given the way that the man's demeanor had shifted – subtly but noticeably – after hearing Ava utter the Brotherhood motto. In and of itself that wasn't anything necessarily suspicious as the Brotherhood made many people anxious with their presence, deservedly or otherwise… but it was certainly noteworthy. If he hadn't already been planning on keeping a close eye on Mic, he certainly would be now.
Only after Mic asked about their intentions in Goodneighbor did Vicente finally turn fully to look at him. “No. I'm only here long enough to restock on supplies.” After a moment he sighed heavily and added, “What about you two?”
NanLia
the one and only
AVA PEARSON
VAULT #44
Safton
Mr. Heartbreaker
Vicente "Vic" Alcaraz
Goodneighbor - Market
Vicente had been happy to tune out the sniper – Ava – as she offhandedly mentioned that she’d had plans for a rendezvous that night which had far more to do with pleasure than business… at least until she suddenly suggested that he and Mic instead join her for the evening. The Paladin balked, whirling around to face her in a wide-eyed double-take. Had she just propositioned the two of them, utter strangers (to her and each other, no less)?
He opened his mouth to speak, only to snap his jaw shut once again. Vic felt his face heating up and couldn’t muster up a response to the bold suggestion, so he instead settled for turning away to study the facade of the nearby weather-beaten redbrick ruin as if it held the secrets of the universe. He was truly grateful when he heard the sound of a voice calling out, offering scrap-for-sale. But there was more than that – a new stimulus reaching his ears coming from the Market and approaching their impromptu meeting place.
A very familiar sound.
He could be drunk, half-asleep, sick, or on the verge of death and he would recognize that sound. That rhythmic Thump. Thump. Thump. All underlaid by the lighter whine of the hydraulics. Alcaraz had spent months traveling northward, waiting to hear that noise – to find those who wielded the armor who made it. And yet, strangely enough, even now his heart did not begin beating rapidly in response to the stimulus. Instead, it seemed to fall into that same, steady encroaching rhythm like a soldier locking into march with one’s comrades. He ignored the query from Ava, striding toward the street as if drawn by some magnetic pull – only to come up short, practically skidding to a halt, when he saw the suit of Power Armor creating the sound.
“No,” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth flatly, unsure if Ava or Mic were even close enough to hear. He didn’t bother glancing behind him, continuing to glare at the suit that had decidedly not come from any Brotherhood bunker.
Namazu
Baron of Bad Boys
MICAIAH 'MIC' SOLOMON
GOODNEIGHBOR - MARKETS
EARLY EVENING
Ava’s declaration she was hoping to find someone to shack up with for the night, and then extended said offer to them, made him raise an eyebrow. She was even more straightforward than he was. Mic was about to make some possibly lewd comment when he heard the familiar whump-tssh-whump-tshh of power armor hydraulics and the weight of metal hitting the ground. Mic practically felt it reverberating up his feet and legs, standing this close.
The junkmonger strode past, calling about his junk for sale, but it wasn’t him that drew Mic’s attention. It was the power-armor-clad individual trailing behind the junkmonger, like a guardian, that caught all of Mic’s attention.
Mic felt himself starting to take a step backwards away from the passing pair instinctively. His heart yelled to run, but his mind kept him there. If he turned around and bolted now, he’d look twice as suspicious. The last thing he needed was to be pursued by someone in power armor. Or, luck help him if Vic had a set stashed nearby, two people in power armor.
When Vic strode into the street towards the sound of the power armor, Mic’s stomach flipped.
“No? What do you mean no?” Did he mishear the other man? Tentatively, Mic crept to the end of the street. While he pretended to lean against the building casually while re-bucking one of his belts, face tipped downwards, he was actually taking the opportunity to scope out the passing junkmonger and his metal friend. Power armor generally all looked alike to him, but even Mic could see that this was better cared for than raider’s salvaged gear.
“Well, who the fuck is that then, if it isn’t one of yours?” He whispered to Vic quietly.
Karcen
Ten Thousand Club
Nicola stayed on as high alert as somone woth only one working eye looking through a tented visor could be. That was one issue with things as they were, Nicola had a rather limited field of view and honestly needed the intimidation factor of the suit to stop people from trying anything stupid. Humans, however always seemed to know if they were being watched and Nicola knew she was, but she could swear the attention was diffrent than normal.
Was someone planning to attack? Were they planning to steal the armor? Well thanks to her modifications that was harder than on might think. Did someone some how realize she was enclave? That shouldn't happen her suit was based on prototype armor. The schematics had been from one specific group from before the war and carried over. Sone parts of it were close to X-02. At least tge original and not the raven rock armor they had made out out if need. That all aside Nicola was sure she was being watched with eyes she didn't like.
Nicola decided to surprise whoever was after them and turned almost on the spot in the heavy armor, her gun half raised. What she saw almost made her start to fire. The light orange of a brotherhood of steel undersuit. Those cursed traitors had started scouring here. Was this person a scout for a greater force? Were those in the capitol about to launch a crusade? Those bastards might ruin everything with their if we can't have it we'll destroy it attitude. Nicola wasn't even sure if they had even used the tech they stole from the enclave.
Nicola didn't try to shoot the man just yet. " Justin stop" she said not trying to hide names right now as she doubted anyone would have kept personal records. "Here to scout for a crusade paladin?" Nicola asked her voice carried by the speakers to all around. Her tone held a venom and hate for the man that she couldn't hide. As for his rank only those of at least knight got power armor and honestly she was guessing. If he corrrected her she woukd look like she knew less and if she guessed right then she would seem to know more. The other wastelanders around the brotherhood member were secondary and in truth barely registered in her mind as more than there.
