Fandom Fallout Big Apple

[Lady Moldoma]

Bean was confused, the prospect of a man who could turn invisible only made sense to her as far as if it were either a psychic ability or some sort of technology. Magnet could probably figure out how to bend light if she tried hard enough, so it didn't seem out of the question for Bean that someone else could too.

Upon seeing the sharpened syringer gun, her demeanor changed. It was clear that this man wasn't there for a good reason. Even an idiot like Bean could put two and two together that the group of unconscious guards sprawled on the floor were a direct product of the man's handiwork. "Wh-Why would you hurt all of these people? That's not good!" Bean says. "In fact, that's really, really bad!" She seems more than a little distraught at the scene upon recognizing what all has happened.

She gasps, holding her hands over her mouth. "Y-You're not gonna hurt me are you?" She was shocked at the revelation that she just had in her smooth-brain, her weakly neurons firing at full capacity to figure that one out.

 

[Jet]

​

"Pay me," Quinn said without an ounce of humanity, a machine clawing for money whenever he could. "Time is money, money is time, and time is a flat circle"

"Ignore the last part," he tossed a peanut into his mouth. "Not the point."

"Point is."

"Um."

"Oh thats right yeah... my time ain't free kid." Quinn finally put away his magic bullets; he knew that angle was closed now. He would make a sale with less qualified, more brain damaged people in the slums tonight. But not here. He could only squeeze money out the old fashioned way, by providing a service to the annoying stranger. Even if it was rambling about grumpy aliens and bandits, guns and cheap hookers, with most stories including more than two at once. "I can tell you lots of stories, take your pick. I've been across the whole country."

"But I'm a very important man, very very busy. I have lots of..."

"Activities."

"Yes very busy!" Jimmy said. "Gambling, booze and women, Quinn says its for research purposes, but I don't believe him at all! Haha!"

Quinn said nothing for a few seconds, squeezing his fake arm with his other hand. "He's just kidding!" He tightened his grip with a carefree smile on his face.

"In truth my friend," he leaned forward a little. "I'm an emissary of the new republic, they work me like a slave but it's good, honest work."

ManofManyRoles

 

[Specialist]

CND: 100%
LOC: Central Park, NYC, NY - 1030hrs
OBJECTIVE UPDATE: Investigate local recruitment interest- IN PROGRESS.
ITR: ManofManyRoles (NCR Regional Command , Millie)
MNT: Jet (Quinn) ​

Gardner had the man handled, yet the bizarre topic of Aliens threw her off as they bantered to stall his time. She'd have to ask about that later. For now, though, there was a slight sense of satisfaction as she couldn't help but hear the defeated man turn to desperation. Payment for campfire stories- the guy was dirtier than a Fiend, and if those stories had any validity, she'd find no quarrel in apprehending him on the spot alive or dead. However, it was the last claim of his that got her attention. An emissary of the NCR? Before she moved off to observe the auction staging area, she held out her left hand for Millie. "C'mere kid. Walk with me." She glanced toward the auction area as she brought her right hand up to the side of her helmet, speaking into it softly. "Ranger Cybil to Ar-Cee. Got a man around five-eleven, approximately forty years of age with a bionic arm. Claims to be on the Emmisary list for the NCR. Verify when you can, over." Even if it was proven false, there was no reason to make an arrest in the middle of the event. She moved only slightly away from the trifecta of craziness and turned to ensure they were well within her sight.

The recruitment inquiry had long since become lost to the background, at least for now. She hoped that they'd have another trainee- recruitment was slow for the season, and more and more Rangers were listed K.I.A ever since the second battle concluded.

 

[ManofManyRoles]

12PM. Central Park. The Auction Starts

Jonah found it easy to talk for thirty minutes to fill the gap. It was an art form, one could say, to say a whole lot about nothing. She spoke of her life in the vault, how beautiful the capitol wastes were becoming each passing day, and never failed to drive home the fact the brotherhood was doing a 'bang up job' since they got rid of the 'despicable and awful enclave'. True some of the brotherhood members in the crowd gave approving nods to the praises she sung, but most were starting to tune her out like she was a bad old-world radio commerical. The common wastelander though, they clung to her every word like she spoke of a land of milk and honey, and the NCR boots did a fine job of faking attention...if they were here, they could say they were doing crowd upkeep. And thus, didn't have to be stuck on a patrol. It was all a sham of attention from everyone, it seemed. Jonah trying to burn minutes, and everyone else letting her burn them. All under the promise of whatever was in that cargo container to change their lives. "-but now ladies and gentlemen, I think I've wasted enough of your time! It is finally noon, or high noon as some of you folks from the NCR would say right? Ah-hah, anyways! Let's all take a deep breath...can you feel it? The suspense bubbling up, the excitement running through your veins? Oh I love it! It reminds me of what the wastes were said once to be! A place of excitement, of buzz, of hope for the unknown before the bombs fell! Such a shame that went away though! But, fear not, maybe today we can rekindle some of that!"
Her tone had changed rather abruptly, a little more pomp and circumstance than it had been. She sounded like she was trying to start a rally almost, rather than continue her sales pitch by now. But the way she said it...it sent a chill down some of the spines of certain NCR members and brotherhood members, speaking of ghosts in the past like that. She reached into her pocket as she produced a simple little container, no larger than something used to hold pens, and popped two ear buds in as she made her way over the cargo container. She stooped at the control terminal for just a moment...a passcode was entered...there was the griiind of the cargo container door opening to the point it was almost deafening. No further words from Jonah as she about faced, but her grin had turned a bit too wide. And slowly, she pressed her lips together and it looked like she was doing something. Once the grinding sound had stopped, it was clear what she was doing. Nothing truly unique...she seemed to be whistling an Old World tune. Was that "America the Beautiful?"
Inside the container wasn't anything anyone had expected, not by a mile. It looked like a tripod apparatus almost, the bottom half of a sentry-bot maybe. However, the top was a large globe shape, a perfect sphere with rods protruding from it. By now, the NCR members were on edge and the Brotherhood was reaching for their weapons as the auction suddenly had a much less pleasant note to it. The common waster however...well they had no reason to think differently. And then the globe spoke, a soft and lovely female voice that could be heard through the entire bazaar area. "Online....Greetings, American Citizens. Let us clear our minds, and remember the good old days." There was a soft and warm hummm that escaped the machine, the sound wave practically visible like the effects of a rather aggravated king mirelurk attacking with a sonic wave. A brotherhood member raised their laser rifle in a moment. There was a loud zap of energy. And suddenly one of the merchants was dead on the ground with a large hole in their back. There was a sudden bang of a gunshot, and an NCR member dropped as his own sister-in-arms nailed him. Shouts and screams of confusion started to go up as gunshots started to go off in the auction area, and throughout the bazaar. Never before had anyone been mad enough to start a gunfight in this part of the Big Apple...but the most shocking thing of all was it was without rhyme or reason, as several figures from the crowd began to open fire on the other. And with each whump vibration that sonic pulse reached further from the machine on the stage, and Jonah's whistling had begun to be drowned out.


12:05PM. Central Park. Hell broke loose.The old man cussed under his breath at Nicola, though his eyes never left her or Bean. "Look a lot like Brotherhood for not bein' a member," he growled towards her. "And I'm in plenty fine position to be makin' demands, considerin' you're doin' the same right now! And if your robits shot me, then you'd have all of Central Park gunning for you. I'm not lethal. Killing me, you break the rules. I don't mean to steal what's in the damn crate, we have to destroy it you ninny! You haven't the foggiest fuckin' clue what's going on here, do you? You're just like the other hounds in this mix, you hear scraps at the dinner table and you show up to eat! You don't even consider that those scraps might be laced with cyanide!" He glanced between Nicola and Bean as the mutant girl spoke, the older man grumbling. He didn't have time for all these blasted questions, but he was outnumbered. He'd just have to talk fast. "They're not hurt, they're just unconscious. I don't want to go hurtin' nobody! But it's a bit difficult to stop this auction and crawl on stage when there's a constant guard patrol! You seem like a fine...something or other. Tell your friend she can either help or shove off, but I don't have time for this or her trying to make a quick buck! I have to-"
"Online....Greetings, American Citizens. Let us clear our minds, and remember the good old days." The old man looked towards the stage at the sound of that voice, jaw going slack as the vibrations started and that soft whumpf could be heard from the stage, the bubble of sonic booms visible as it spread out from around the stage. "...shit." He started to backpedal quickly from the stage, no longer thinking of Bean or Nicola. "Get out of here, both of you! Get out no-" blam came the sound of a pipe revolver as it nailed the old man straight in the shoulder, a wide-eyed and dazed looking civilian the culprit. Other gunshots could be heard now as well, another blam as the civilian took a potshot at Nicola blankly, expressionless.
-------
"Ah, sorta guy who doesn't work for free? I respect it, I do." Gardner resisted the urge to chuckle at being called kid, already fishing around in his pocket for something. "Tell ya what. You seem like you got plenty of fine information to offer. Are you a bettin' man sir? Because I'd love to take a bet with you. Gives me a chance to relax off the patrol for a bit." Gardner held up an old quarter, entirely useless in todays day and age, aged and weathered but the perfect thing for gambling in his opinion. "Heads, a hundred-fifty caps and we have a lengthy discussion. Tales, and we chat for an hour free of charge aside from my own story-swap. So what do ya say? Up for a bit of a game?"
"Online....Greetings, American Citizens. Let us clear our minds, and remember the good old days."

Gardner's idea of a game and ultimately wasting Quinn's time through one means or another went out the window as the sound of gunshots started to go off in the central bazaar following that rather strange and loud announcement. Both Gardner and Cybil's radio crackled at once with reports of exactly what they were hearing. Gunfire, a lot of it. Everyone had opened fire on their neighbor, their cousin, their siblings, and the milk man for no damned reason. He turned his attention towards the commotion, glancing away as there was suddenly a bright blue flash of energy from the stage direction. "Gardner! Sybil! I want eyes on the ground, what the hell is going on out there!? I'm getting reports of a blasted mad-house!" "I am not a fortune teller, Withers, I don't know yet!" Gardner's easy going and relaxed nature had been replaced with a bark of rank against rank, red visored eyes leveling on Cybil. "Change of plans, we need to visit this auction house-GET DOWN!" He had to change his train of thought once again as he looked towards Quinn and leapt towards him, the zap of energy weapon firing towards him from a dazed looking brotherhood recruit down range with his rifle, the smell of fried air and burnt ozone heavy.

Jet Karcen Specialist Lady Moldoma Fox of Fate​

 

[Specialist]

CND: 100%
LOC: Central Park, NYC, NY - 1200hrs
OBJECTIVE UPDATE: SECURE AREA; ELIMINATE HOSTILES.
ITR: ManofManyRoles (Gardner , Millie)
MNT: Jet (Quinn) ​

Finally, it was here. What the NCR detachment had traveled on foot for roughly two-thousand miles of coverage for started as the auctioneer sauntered onto the stage front and commenced her speech. It took only microseconds for Cybil to deduce the woman was a natural orator and gifted communicator; showing no err in confidence nor lapse in cadence as she opened with an introduction to where her life story began. Even if it was filler before the 'event', the impression of silence that quickly covered the chatter of thousands present had left Cybil curious about the woman's true nature. Was she a politician before? A leader of a community? Those that knew the art of manipulation and persuasion with their speech were something to be beloved and feared by those that believed and followed, and she was standing a few inches apart from the living proofs of Cause and Effect, that being Gardner and Millie.

Cybil knew she had no desire to lead. Even though she could, the one thing she intrinsically lacked was passion. She did not feel passion, because she was incapable of passion. Passion, charisma, charm- qualities of the most gifted in their mastery of persuasion, manipulation, leadership, and speech. A uniquely Human trait that an imitation such as herself would never truly know. Her attention remained mechanically partitioned between the auction, her own introspection, and a consistent surveillance for potential threats as she kept her visor angled toward the center stage. It wasn't long at all before she noticed subtle changes in the presentation.

The way the woman's tone dropped an octave, falling from a pomp hype into a resigned commiseration before capping into a note of potential hope.

The way her figure shifted; hands fondling over sets of rotund devices as she reached up and touched her temples for brief moments.

The way her grin fluttered away as the spark of light dulled from her eyes; lips locked in a purse. A resignation of finality. Commitment.

Cybil's emulations of emotion flooded through her matrix in bursts of activity. Conflicts of signals and interpreted data. Inconclusive results, arguments, breaks in syntax, and rewrites. Scenarios flashed through algorithmic calculations, predictions... nothing could prepare her for what she was about to witness next. The massive doors of the container were wrenched open, revealing a mechanical tripod that appeared to be a combination of several of RobCo's autonomous robotic units, culminating into a design she had never seen before. Within seconds of the creation coming online, all hell broke loose as a visible soundwave erupted into the air and washed over the crowd before they could even react.

Even if they were a fair distance away, Cybil had already begun to act from the arrival of the distorted air as she shot her left arm over and around the teenager's back in a protective one-armed hold, beginning to quickly move backward as she unholstered her Colt M45A1 with her right hand. Cybil thumbed the safety off and brought it to level just as the booming voice of Withers had crackled throughout her helmet; the staccato rapport of gunfire and laserfire indiscriminately peppering over the frantic transmission. Bringing her pistol-wielding hand up and pressing her thumb's knuckle against the edge of her helmet, instantly met with the horrible pitched tone of multiple keyed mics as her transmission was effectively canceled out. Her movements were swift and uniformly calculated as she navigated through her backpedal toward Gardner; blading her torso at the right to shield Millie from harm while she made her way over toward Gardner.

Before she could reply to his bark, Jim had flung himself toward Quintin as a crimson streak crackled through the air moments where he had been. Snapping her head and arm over to the Brotherhood soldier who looked like he was struggling to even stand, Cybil aligned the pistol's optic sights with the man's head and fired in return; the bullet slamming into the soldier's dome as a puff of red mist shot out in a cloud; the man dropping to the ground instantly. Cybil continued her advance toward the huddled men, raising her voice over the cacophony of chaos. "Can't reach comms; I have the girl with me! We need to get them out of here before we move!"

 

[Karcen]

Nicola Armstead
Mentions: Lady Moldoma ​

inside her suit Niccola rolled her eyes as the old man spoke, really a speech, he was making a speech. What kind of idiot made a speech when you were trying to talk to someone. If her wanted her to actually listen he needed to give out clear as exact as he can facts instead of rambling about this and that. Niccola really didn't care if she broke the rules, there were a millions excuses for a robot to have a little glitch and no one would miss one crazy old man. She didn't have him shot right then and there simply because she had hoped the idiot would actually get the the facts she wanted. Really today would have been better if she had just taken bean and gone back to her home slash lab and not hoped for this auction to be anything special. It likely was nothing despite what the old man said, unless this chapter of the brotherhood was beyond incompetent at intel and recon. Something high tech should get on their radar and they if they followed normal protocol, should have swooped in and confisacted the device or devices.

Before the old man could actually get to what he wanted, which he could have if he didn't ramble, he was shot as an announcement seemed to cause chaos along with some kind of sonic event. Niccola heard another shot and the round harmlessly pinked off her armor, its reinforced and customized chassis far to durable for anything short of dedicated anti armor or plasma weapons from actually hitting piecing it. there were the joints and the hoses, but that tended to take lucky or sharp shooters. Those were not things some random civilian with a pipe weapon would exactly possess.

before another round could be fired Louis acting on defensive protocols dashed forward and activating his arm blades cut clean through the man. he had been made to be part of an army to take over the world, designed by a machine bent of a mathematically perfect killer. The rest of the mayhem breaking out was quickly taken in and calculated micro seconds and targets were picked out and calculations started then stopped as there were to many and the calculations would have caused over heating. Louis would have to develop counters and strategies as they came over one big strategy.

" A sonic emitter?" Niccola asked through the mental link as she deafened herself to external sounds to deal with whatever this attack was. The machines were seemingly not affected so it was something made to deal with organics.

" Could be activating sleeper agents " Murphy replied that would be the military mind set that they had set up people ahead of time that were activated by the trigger phrase. As she replied Murphy powered up her eye beam and her inbuilt laser rifles.

" If it was just a trigger phrase then they wouldn't need the emitter, likely it is some behavioral modification system that activates various parts of the brain " Ruth mentioned knowing more abotu the human body than the others and analyzing how the civilian had randomly attacked before in a less than ideal manor.

That made sense as despite cutting off the audio from outside Niccola did feel light headed, but she knew how to deal with it, for awhile. She wanted to make that stop ASAP falling over because you were dizzy in power armor was a hassle she didn't want to deal with. The question was who would do this, they had to have advanced tech knowledge. The brotherhood was one suspect, but the chaos said wither they made sure to get attacked for a false flag or they weren't the culprit. Various raider groups mgith have the tech but they weren't attacking so what was the point if they didn't get loot? There was something about the announcement keywords people didn't use anymore. Americans, good old days, while Niccola had never faced them, and they should have been wiped out several times there was one group she knew of that used words like that. The enclave, records had mentioned the ways they spoke, and their various goals and this device was in line with what they liked to do.

" i think Ruth was right the records mentioned the enclave used mind control collars one deathclaws during their last reemergence. I think this might be an adaptation of that made to affect people while placed on a weapons platform. " Niccola thought to the other it was all matching up, enclave or someone with access to old enclave tech was causing issues.

The question was do they charge or leave? Just being around it was causing issues for Niccola and likely bean, while the bots might be able to take it the device was and unknown. Right now it was best to retreat, perhaps Niccola could build some eyebots and test out various approaches to dealing with the enclave machine.

" We are heading out " Niccola decided

" Roger" The robots all spoke in unison.

Niccola moved close to bean so the mutant could hear her " We are leaving follow us " she said waiting for the mutant girl to acknowledge what she said before taking off with robots.[/I][/I][/I]

 

[Lady Moldoma]

Bean​

Mentions: Karcen ​

---

"Mmmn?" Bean had already begun drooling openly, her body slouched over. Evidently having issues with coordination, she drunkily stumbled around after Nicola. Whereas someone with Nicola's mental constitution and conditioning was at least able to resist the effects, for someone like bean, it basically turned her already pretty smooth brain into mush. Luckily, despite what the weapon was supposed to do, it failed to activate the parts of her brain that would've made her break into a violent fit and start attacking (not that she really knew how to use a weapon.)

She wandered forwards, past Niccola, her movements were erratic and bore more than a passing resembling to an intoxicated human, she eventually came to the street just outside of the range and collapsed.

"Uw... M-My head hurts... I-Is this what Magnet said a migraine was?" She asks, getting up, and holding her forehead, she had broken out one of her teeth on the ground and she let it drop out of her mouth, where a new one grew in its place.

She looked around. "Everything is so... Blurry..." Bean was clearly suffering serious side effects from the nauseating effects of the machine even as she moved outside of its range while following in Niccola's general intended direction.

 

[Fox of Fate]

Violet watched as the item was unveiled. It definitely looked interesting, or unique to say that least, after all it did look like some of those pieced together bots others had built from random bits of other bots, but shineyer. And then it started playing music. "Old world music interesting" she said to herself. And then she started to feel dizzy, before she head gunshots, she grabbed her rifle and looked around to see Brotherhood soldiers killing each other and people around them, NCR soldiers doing the same. And other wastelands randomly firing. She watched one person getting torn apart by a minigun. She quickly put 2 and 2 together, raising her rifle and taking 2 potshots at the bot on the stage that was the source of the music before running. And explosion in the distance drew her attention, it was in the direction of... "The ambulance!" she said, trying to use her pip-boy radio to contact her fellow Responders. No reply, this was not good. She went past the doctors clinic she had visited before. Peering inside she saw the husband and wife laying dead, a surgical knife in his hand and a sawed-off shotgun in hers, it was unclear who struck first, but it was clear they killed each other. Violet kept moving, carefully, avoiding a particularly murderous Brotherhood knight in full T-60 power armour and carrying a gatling laser. As she came across someone who was badly injured hiding behind a store she crouched beside him. "What happened" she asked. "I-I don't...know...my best friend...stabbed me..." he struggled to say, holding onto a knife sticking out of his arm. Violet quickly grabbed some bandages and wrapped them around the impaled knife. She then hooked a blood bag to the man's vein. She then removed the knife and quickly stabbed a stimpack into his arm near the cut. The stemcells inside the stimpack quickly got to work in helping to heal the wound. "Normally I wouldn't have done that but we don't have the time..." she said. "Once the blood bag is empty, take the needle out of your arm and run" she said. The man nodded and thanked her. Violet kept moving, finding the amublance, or what remained of it. A laser blast, O2 canisters and fuel, all equalled a massive explosion. And she saw her 3 friends laying dead. She didn't have time to mourn though as she heard a gatling laser firing and people screming. She took a potshot at the Brotherhood soldier as he was distraced with the fight he was having before running, out of Central park and onto the street, taking cover in a nearby building. She needed to collect her thoughts, to process what she had just witnessed. Something bad had just happened, and she just knew the wasteland would never be the same after.

 

[Jet]

​

Quinn ducked behind a scrawny little tree. He was clearly visible from all sides and was almost uncovered, but it was a good place to watch the chaos. He bobbed his head as lasers passed by his face, chuckling as someone was shot in the knee. He smiled as the snooty merchant from before — arrogant and annoying — screamed and vaulted over his stall. His stand tipped over and scattered weapons across the ground, assault rifles and shotguns and ammo of every kind.

"We need to deprive the enemy," he said to the gambling man. "They'll repurpose those supplies. We need to make an emergency requisition soldier!"

He ran towards the stall diving behind cover, rolling on the ground like he was special forces. He crab-walked behind a wall and army crawled under waves of lasers, pulling himself to the toppled stall. He wasted no time grabbing guns and as much ammo as he could carry, grinning until a laser grazed his ass. "You fucking—

"Pieces of shit!" He clenched his teeth like a vice. "My ass? Really?" He spun around with the machine gun he'd stolen, spraying wildly in the direction of the enemy. He didn't bother aiming and held the trigger until it clicked, taking a deep breath of glorious gunsmoke. "Say hello to my little friend!"

"Who me?" Jimmy said. "I don't want to greet these violent monsters Quinn. They're killing the good proletariat!"

"Good?" Quinn reloaded his gun. "What have you been smoking you commie scum? Where I'm standing in this beautiful, free, communist hating country, my gun is the only thing that's good."

He sprayed the magazine before grabbing more guns, strapping them on his shoulder and running from the stall. He ducked and dodged and swerved between stands, covering his eyes as sparks exploded overhead. He looked back at the gambling man as he ran away for dear life, raising his eyebrows over and over. "So uh... we might need an asset requisition at the auction house. You know, for public safety reasons. No telling what these bastards will take! It's our responsibility — no our sacred duty to deprive them of valuable assets!"

ManofManyRoles