Fallout: Louisiana Blues | IC | Closed and Dead |

[Elerian]

Mayor Gregor Bolden
Providence

“This doesn't fly in my fucking city, you dig? I’m going to personally string this bastard up by his balls when you find em. And he better still be kicking or so help me god . . .” Gregor let that hang in the air as he eyed each and every bounty hunter in the crowd before him. The Providence Plugger as the locals called him was a murderer who’d been plaguing the city for almost a year now. But this case was now personal for Mayor Gregor, the bastard had killed one of his sons. Ezra, Gregor's second child, had been the thirteenth victim, but he would also be the last if Gregor had anything to say about it.

“Well what the fuck are you waiting for? Find that scumbag, and bring him to me alive.” Gregor glared as a dozen or so men and women scurried hurriedly out of the room. Gregor walked over to his desk and rubbed his temples. Suddenly he slammed his fist into the table, and a few moments later reached for a bottle of scotch hidden in his desk. He nearly had a heart attack when his secretary's voice came through the intercom.

“Mr. Mayor, I have a Miss Tamerlane at the front desk asking for you. She’s a rep from Nightshade.”

Fuck, just when I was about to leave this shithole behind. He pressed a button and replied “send her up, but search her first.”

Gregor walked over to his mirror and combed his hair back into place. Once it was presentable he walked back to his desk and hid the scotch for later. Gregor had never met Tamerlane in person. The city had always sent a liaison to deal with her, and her goons, but it would seem she needed to see him. He had no doubt that she wanted a piece of the 800 caps the city was offering, but she was a goon for hire, not a trained detective. Regardless, he wouldn’t turn down any help, couldn’t turn down any help.

---

Sokarus
North of Lake Charles

Sokar snatched the steaming tin can of beans from the coals of his fire. Dog saw his movement and immediately got up and walked over to Sokar piercing him with his puppy eyes. Sokar grumbled and poured some of the contents of the can into a bowl and set it down in front of Dog. Dog quickly set about devouring the hot beans while Sokar retrieved a spoon from his bag to do the same. They tasted a hundred times better than the shit he’d been eating the last couple of days. He’d scarcely seen another human being since he passed through the ruins of Houston, but yesterday he chanced upon a small trader caravan going in the same direction. They’d offered to pay him and give him food if he’d only stayed with them. But Sokar wasn’t a people’s person; he paid them a few caps for a couple cans of food and went on his way without a word, because he couldn’t talk.

And today, he and Dog had chanced upon the same traders, except this time they were all dead or dying. Their wares taken or burned and their animals slaughtered. Sokar killed those that were still alive, a small mercy, and once they were all gone, took anything useful that he could find from the scraps that remained. But he dared not stay for long, lest raiders come and take him unawares, but he would never let that happen again.

Sokar took out a portable radio he’d found on one of the merchants, it still had the man’s blood on some of the nobs, but it didn’t bother Sokar. He flipped one of the nobs and the radio crackled to life. The soothing words of Crawdaddy Jenkins filled the oppressively humid air with the sounds of the bizarre music Jenkins called Blues. It was vastly different from the smooth vocals of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra that he’d grown used to during his time in the Mojave. But it was better than nothing Sokar thought. If he ever met this Crawdaddy in person he’d speak his mind about the man’s musical tastes, but that would be impossible, Sokar had no tongue with which to speak. It almost made him angry, but he kept his cool and listened to the short news broadcast, before he turned the radio off for the night. Dog would take first watch as he always had, then Sokar would wake and let Dog get some shut eye. They had a pretty good system going, but Dog had been getting lazy these past few nights. Sokar had awoken to find Dog already fast asleep. Rather than get mad, Sokar let him get his rest. Sokar removed his helmet and lay his head down on his pack, he took his coat off and put it near the fire so it would be dry by the time he woke, then he closed his eyes, and soon he was fast asleep.

---

Alexander the Reborn
Outside of Hellenia

Alexander sidestepped the incoming blow and swung his machete in a well-practiced attack straight through the savage’s arm. The barabarian’s arm separated from the rest of his body just below the elbow, spraying Alexander with blood. The savage screamed his last as Alexander followed up his initial attack with a finishing blow to the creature’s heart. He wrenched his blade free and looked for another foe to obliterate, but he saw none. All the tribals were dead or dying. And only very few of his men lay on the ground. He caught the last few glimpses of some of the cowardly inbreds run through the brush into the deep swamps. The heathens would not trouble them again.

Alexander let out a mighty bellow, and his men joined in, filling the swamps with cries of victory. This was his third great victory, and the second tribe to be put in its place. Nearly three dozen inbreds lay dead at his feet. He told his men to take what weapons the creatures possessed, and then burn the bodies. Alexander laughed and wiped some blood from his face as he walked over to his Strategos, Myron. “We have won a great victory here, today Philos. But we cannot falter now, we must continue conquering these heathens, and only then can we know peace.”

[Conglomerate of Iron]

Mayor Gregor Bolden
Providence

“This doesn't fly in my fucking city, you dig? I’m going to personally string this bastard up by his balls when you find em. And he better still be kicking or so help me god . . .” Gregor let that hang in the air as he eyed each and every bounty hunter in the crowd before him. The Providence Plugger as the locals called him was a murderer who’d been plaguing the city for almost a year now. But this case was now personal for Mayor Gregor, the bastard had killed one of his sons. Ezra, Gregor's second child, had been the thirteenth victim, but he would also be the last if Gregor had anything to say about it.

“Well what the fuck are you waiting for? Find that scumbag, and bring him to me alive.” Gregor glared as a dozen or so men and women scurried hurriedly out of the room. Gregor walked over to his desk and rubbed his temples. Suddenly he slammed his fist into the table, and a few moments later reached for a bottle of scotch hidden in his desk. He nearly had a heart attack when his secretary's voice came through the intercom.

“Mr. Mayor, I have a Miss Tamerlane at the front desk asking for you. She’s a rep from Nightshade.”

Fuck, just when I was about to leave this shithole behind. He pressed a button and replied “send her up, but search her first.”

Gregor walked over to his mirror and combed his hair back into place. Once it was presentable he walked back to his desk and hid the scotch for later. Gregor had never met Tamerlane in person. The city had always sent a liaison to deal with her, and her goons, but it would seem she needed to see him. He had no doubt that she wanted a piece of the 800 caps the city was offering, but she was a goon for hire, not a trained detective. Regardless, he wouldn’t turn down any help, couldn’t turn down any help.

Tamerlane smirked as the security searched her. She had already put her sniper rifle, 10mm and her carbine on the table, but she always kept a surprise on her, namely a combat knife in her panties. Men were typically too embarrassed to search down there. But she had no qualms with the mayor, and this was just a business conference.

She entered the office with a flourish and a smile. A nice and pleasant air and a dose of civility could do wonders, no matter how one feels about slimeball politicians. And she had brought alcohol.

"Good morning Mayor, how are you today?" She reached into the bag at her side, and brought out a bottle of spiced rum, quality stuff.

"A present," she said as she gracefully handed the bottle to the mayor.

[Ontorisa]

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

The Front, as it was called by the northerners of Louisiana, was a desolate environment filled with barren brush, a stream here and there, hills and rocks, a lot of rocks. Désiré Monet looked over a face of the mountain, following a Backcush, a local delight of a mutated black bear. It looked absolutely disgusting, with a bright pink mushroom-like welt growing out of its head and an extra paw growing out of its chest, weighing in at 415 pounds at least and standing at 5"2 on its four legs, but it was terrified of noise and light. It was only fate that brought Monet to one of these delightful creatures in broad daylight where it wandered around blindly relying on its nose, ears and paws to navigate the Front.

Looking down at the Backcush as it tried so desperately to get over a small incline, Monet hid behind a rock, slowly sliding his bolt into place. During daytime, the Backcush's hearing improved greatly and so it had extremely sensitive hearing, so even though Monet was about 150 metres away, he was sure he could still be heard. As the bolt came into the rifle, Monet twirled his head around the rock he had been hiding behind to risk a glance. There it was, a male Backcush, about 430 pounds and struggling to get up a hill. It was almost comedic, but Monet gloomily finished loading his rifle before turning over and aiming the .308 Winchester Browning X-Bolt Hunting Rifle at the Backcush. Glancing through the rifle's scope, Monet aimed at the Backcush's head, breathed in and pulled the trigger.

CRACK!

With a sense of pride, the Backcush's head flew off in a bloody spectacle as Monet got up and checked his surroundings before descending to the corpse. Sliding down the ridges, Monet kept his rifle at the ready as he continued down the slope, looking up at the higher ridges and down the chokepoint of the valley. As he got to the corpse, he kicked it, once and then twice. It was a precaution due to the first Backcush he had hunted. Apparently, they don't die right away when their head comes off, so the body has a tendency to flail around with its powerful legs. As the headless body did not respond, Monet went to work with his knife, cutting off pieces of meat from the upper torso, which was worth at least 200 caps a pound if he could deliver them in time to a butcher or restaurant or someone who took the meat. As he continued, he heard some pebbles tumble down the ridge behind him. His impulse for survival kicked in as he spun around with the rifle at the ready. What the hell were his chances?

"Alone here eh?" The man yelled at him, holding a 10mm pistol in front of him aiming at Monet from a distance. "You picked the wrong spot to hunt you fucker."

As if on cue, Monet felt a shadow pass over him as he looked back to see two other men holding Varmint Rifles, aiming at him.

"You can step away from the Backcush and leave here with your life or you can sit there and die. Either way, I want the kill and the rifle." The pistolman smirked at him.

[Tayner]

Gunny had woken up in time to hear the Mayor's speech. He thought that it would be easier to kill the serial killer, but it would reward more to capture him. He heard rumors of a guy in heavy metal armor in a casino near by, but he didn't have time to make friends, when there was a dozen other people trying to steal Gunny's prize. Gunny then went back to the inn he was staying at, and asked the bartender, " You have any idea where this serial killer is? Any clues?" The bartender said "Not at all sir. But if I do find anything out, I will be quick to tell." Gunny said " Yeah, be shure about that" and droped a ten cap tip on the counter. He then went out to sell some of the Raider's loot that he found earlier. He soon had 100 caps on him, and went to the casino with the guy heavy metal armor. After all, Gunny was good at poker.

[Ralnis]

Southern Mississippi River
Trade always down river and runs west to the rich settlements. This is what the River Pirates know and the River Peoples have been following the rumors of war gearing up in the settlements and that many merchants were carrying large supplies for profit on both land and sea. The pirates had been stalking a large convoy to where they spotted the weight of the goods and the guards that had guns and armor, which is somethings that the River Peoples had desperately wanting in order to become stronger. The convoy did not have the numbers that the Peoples had and they aim to exploit that.

It was night time and the Steamboat stopped and they commenced their attack. This attack was not subtle as they did not favor stealth and were new to being pirates The guards had alarmed everyone and the fight started. The guards used their guns and wounded many, one had a shotgun and killed two before being decapitated. The River Peoples eventually overrun their defenses and killed most of them and captured others for enslavement while they went after the merchants themselves, aim to make a few hundred caps for each head.

Once the battle was over, the River Peoples had counted ghetto dead and the wounded. It was an estimated of 5 dead and 8 wounded but the convoy had what they needed. They had started to strip the bodies of their weapons and armor and started to take the goods. Most of the goods were general stuff but some had medical supplies and weapons, armor, and ammo. They didn't know who they attacked or didn't care for these weapons were much better than theirs and so was the armor. This made them wanted to try and look for more once they could get more people to join in their band of pirates.

After accessing the goods and Brahmin they had taken(with the carts),they set the scene on fire and went back up north to Monroe and prepare it to be shipped to Vendetta.

[Neo-Chicago]

Joseph, Morrison's Bedlam

"This is as far as I'll take you." the boat's pilot said, stopping at a jetty. In front of him was a sign that had once said "Welcome to Morrisonville", but the "ville" was crossed out, and replaced with ('s). Below, the word Bedlam was written.
"But why? Can't we go farther?" Joseph asked, confused.
"Are you kidding me? Do I look like I want to be slaughtered? This is almost as bad as River People territory. Damn inbreds." the man says, looking at Joseph as if he was insane.
"Wait, I didn't hear that last-" Inquisitor Joseph interjected, but was drowned out by the engine of the boat as it pulled away. In front of him was a sign saying "Beware of Sawyers!", with a crude drawing of a man raising his arms up, who appeared to be almost seven feet tall. However, Joseph disregarded it, and pressed on through the ruins of what appeared to have once been a thriving place of industry. However, nature had taken back her claim, and many of the smokestacks were mostly collapsed, covered in vines and moss. It was a sad sight to Joseph, but he pressed on, until coming to a clearing of the swamp. In the distance, he thought he saw a picket fence, but he suspected it to be part of some ruined farm, or a similar building. He pressed on, taking out the double-barrel shotgun he had scavenged from a gun cabinet in one of the ruined houses back in Old New Orleans. Joseph was wary at this point...
.

[Elerian]

Mayor Gregor Bolden
Providence

A trained politician could tell when someone was putting on airs, but it was almost refreshing seeing someone address him with some sort of normality. Gregor’s frown dissipated and when he saw Tamerlane’s gift, he thought he could nearly faint. This lady really knew her business, but that also unsettled Gregor more than it should have. He gave the woman a warm smile and told her to take a seat in front of his desk as he readily accepted her gift.

Taking a quick peek at the bottle he could tell this lady hadn’t skimped either. Not like those damnable cheapskates from Defiance. Setting the bottle aside, Gregor studied Tamerlane a moment before talking.

“Times have been difficult for not only our great city, but also for its humble servant. I lost a son to the bastard Providence Plugger.” Gregor paused a moment out of grief, then continued. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if it’s a contract you’re looking for, there’s always more Defiance Grunts to be shot, but you’ll have to take it up with one of my associates down at the military headquarters. But, I take it that’s not why you’re here. What exactly do you want Miss Tamerlane?” Gregor asked with genuine interest.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

Victor hadn't won very much at the casino. After about an hour of playing blackjack, winning some and losing some, Victor's winnings amounted to a whopping fifty caps; it was enough to buy a few bottles of bourbon, but it really was an insignificant amount, especially when compared to just how much it cost to buy high quality equipment. However, that didn't really bother Victor, since he was really just playing to pass the time more than anything. It was obviously going to be a while before the rest of the Enclave's expedition to Louisiana finally decided to show up, and Victor figured he might as well waste time indulging in his vices. He was interrupted, however, at the arrival of a less than impressive looking man in ordinary combat armor; to Victor, he was just another random local coming up to say something stupid. Victor didn't like to stereotype, but he was really starting to feel like everybody in the Louisiana wasteland had been living under a rock of ignorance their whole lives.

"The hell do you want? Unless you have business with the Enclave, I suggest you find somebody else's time to waste." Victor said to Gunny as he approached him, irritation evident in his voice. Anywhere else, people would fear the sight of vertibirds in the sky, and the presence of the Enclave would strike fear directly into the hearts and minds of its enemies; the Enclave was tough, even in spite of the defeats against the NCR and the destruction of the Poseidon Oil Rig, and every Enclave soldier was the equivalent of dozens of Caesar's legionaries or NCR troopers. The fact that virtually everyone Victor had met had no idea who the hell the Enclave was greatly irritated the infinitely loyal and patriotic soldier, and he was really starting to get a negative impression of the people in the Louisiana Wasteland.

[SaintB]

Snip

Rocky
The hot and humid hills and rocks of wherever the hell he was seemed to be a remote and lonely place. He had run out of food a day before but pressed on hoping to find another traveler or some civilization where he could barter for foodstuffs. Assault rifles weren't exactly what one would call a suitable hunting weapon and Rocky was loathe to expend some of his ever dwindling supply of ammo on trying to kill one of those weird bear creatures he kept spotting (and avoiding) just in case whoever he met wasn't the friendly sort. He could go a day or six without a meal anyway, it was water he was more worried about than anything. In the wasteland without water you wouldn't last half a week compared to the nearly two weeks without food you could go.

The Regulator was crouched on a ridge safely camouflaged behind some stones and logs as he surveyed the area below him for signs of anything but those weird bearthingies when suddenly a loud report of a rifle, probably a .308, sounded from somewhere to his left and several hundred meters behind him. There was no follow up sound, no ricochet, and Rocky wasn't dead yet, so he figured that wherever the shooting came from it wasn't aimed at him and if it was then the shooter was more likely to hit himself if he missed by that wide of a margin. Though since Rocky was looking for someone out here in the vast empty space he decided it would be worth investigating the location of the shot. As he started down the slope of the ridge he spotted three men moving toward the same area he was and froze to crouch among some brush and let them pass. Rocky knew trouble when he saw it and those guys were definitly up to some what with their guns all in hand and the way they split into a type of pincer formation with them splitting off into two groups - one to take point presumably, while the other was an ambush element. A classic and common maneuver by anyone with some foresight who was aiming to kill something.

Once there was more distance between him and the three figures Rocky slid the rest of the way down the escarpment on his ass and quickly got up to his feet with his rifle at the low ready and at a half crouch so that would make it easy to go prone or kneel if shooting started, he also switched off the safety (always keep your automatic weapon set on SAFE until you mean to use it kids). He pursued them at a distance of 50 or so meters, far enough back that he could remain discreet and also hopefully far enough to let anyone across the way know he wasn't with these guys if he had stumbled on to some turf war between tribes. When they split up Rocky opted to follow the two instead of the one since from his perspective it looked like they would have line of sight on the other guy as he made his move to wherever he was going and took up an over-watch spot approximately 30 meters back from them. He lost track of the third man but the other two he had eyes on as they took cover behind a seemingly random pile of dirt and peeked over the top.

In a few short moments the two rifle wielding men came out from their cover and moved forward with purpose... yessir these gents were ambushing something alright and Rocky wanted to know what. He part crawled, part ran while squatting over to the dirt pile and took a look over himself. The three men had surrounded another one, his armament and demeanor spoke to him being a big game hunter or some such and he looked in trouble so Rocky scooted up toward where they were while some words were exchanged arriving just in time to hear the pistol wielding man say, "You can step away from the Backcush and leave here with your life or you can sit there and die. Either way, I want the kill and the rifle."

Whatever if anything was going to be said next was interrupted by the sound of the charging handle on Rocky's Assault Carbine being pulled back, "Or maybe instead you and your two colleagues can step away from the hunter and leave with your life, I'll even let you keep your guns if you go quietly."

Rocky didn't really like 3:1 odds but he had the drop on them, and an automatic weapon so he gave himself about even odds and if the hunter was in should a skirmish breakout Rocky was pretty sure the odds were actually in his favor, "Go on! Get!"

[SaintB]

Hey man, its Crawdaddy again. Today is a sad day for Providence city brothers and sisters. The 13th victim of the Plugger has been revealed to be none other than the mayor's own son Ezra Bolden. Ezra was a lawman who followed the killer's trail and had reported that he was just about to make a breakthrough on the identity of the killer before he himself fell victim.

Ezra was the second son of Mayor Bolden and a beloved pillar of the community, the rare lawman who realized that service to the law is service to his fellow man and had a reputation for being a tough no nonsense cop who survived his fair share of shootouts with the less savory elements of the underworld. If a skilled law dog like Ezra can be taken by the killer then all you bounty hunters better watch yourselves. Crawdaddy says you should buddy up and work together, its better to live for less caps than die and get none at all.

For Ezra baby, CJ has the perfect send off for you brother. Something slow, something sad, something smooth...

[Chrysaor]

The Flooded Ruins of New Orleans

Mutant crocodiles were nasty sons of bitches. They were big, bigger than two men and stronger than four plus their hide was as hard as iron. On the positive side, at least still they die when you put a blade to their face Hugo thought. In other words, they were not the worst thing Chico & him had ever faced in their lifetime. Nonetheless, this one mutant crocodile was particularly tough. It had already killed half a dozen scavengers who wandered into the wrong part of the flooded city and maimed 2 bounty hunters. The ex-Legionnaire had planned to steer clear of the beast at first then it just had to go and ate poor old Abner, so now it was personal.

Hugo wasn’t dumb though and knew that he had to strip the creature of its advantages first. The man baited the croc until they arrived at a decent-sized clearing on dry land and did not engage until it was midday. The fight that followed was a good one though a bit too close for his comfort. The creature’s flurries of attack were relentless while its thick skin was so tough only a swing at full strength was enough to make a dent. Meanwhile, Hugo was all too busy dodging to dish out any damage and the old man feared if this was to be a war of attrition, he would surely lose.

Reluctantly, he turned on his Stealth Boy to masked himself in reflected light and out of the creature’s sight. The crocodile froze in confusion for but a moment, in which Hugo had already closed in on it. With all his strength, Hugo carved right at its neck and Chico cleaved the monster’s head right off. Just like that it was over.

Hugo sat down and gasped in exhaustion, he was getting too old for this shit. Back in the days, he wouldn’t break a sweat in a similar fight and now he could barely keep up with all his limbs intact. His hand started shaking and his feet were hurting again, the old wounds just now decided that they were back and they were even more painful than he remembered.

He was really getting too old for this shit.

There still work to do he had to remind himself as Hugo pushed himself up from the ground. After a short struggle and a lot of heavy breathing, the man finally got back up on his feet where he immediately proceeded to chop of the crocodile’s tail. Rosie would want to see this he thought simply. The old man gathered what was left of his strength and started hauling the tail back home on his weary shoulder, that lady had better be grateful.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

Victor hadn't won very much at the casino. After about an hour of playing blackjack, winning some and losing some, Victor's winnings amounted to a whopping fifty caps; it was enough to buy a few bottles of bourbon, but it really was an insignificant amount, especially when compared to just how much it cost to buy high quality equipment. However, that didn't really bother Victor, since he was really just playing to pass the time more than anything. It was obviously going to be a while before the rest of the Enclave's expedition to Louisiana finally decided to show up, and Victor figured he might as well waste time indulging in his vices. He was interrupted, however, at the arrival of a less than impressive looking man in ordinary combat armor; to Victor, he was just another random local coming up to say something stupid. Victor didn't like to stereotype, but he was really starting to feel like everybody in the Louisiana wasteland had been living under a rock of ignorance their whole lives.

"The hell do you want? Unless you have business with the Enclave, I suggest you find somebody else's time to waste." Victor said to Gunny as he approached him, irritation evident in his voice. Anywhere else, people would fear the sight of vertibirds in the sky, and the presence of the Enclave would strike fear directly into the hearts and minds of its enemies; the Enclave was tough, even in spite of the defeats against the NCR and the destruction of the Poseidon Oil Rig, and every Enclave soldier was the equivalent of dozens of Caesar's legionaries or NCR troopers. The fact that virtually everyone Victor had met had no idea who the hell the Enclave was greatly irritated the infinitely loyal and patriotic soldier, and he was really starting to get a negative impression of the people in the Louisiana Wasteland.

"I was just wondering, last time I saw armor like that, it was when this group, 'the Brotherhood of Steel' came to a small town up north. That had to been many years ago, but I gotta ask, who are you with?" Gunny said to the man. "Why don't we discuss this over a hand of poker, Texas hold 'em." As he gestured to a poker table.

[Chrysaor]

Rat City.

Rosie was Abner’s wife and now widow. She was a tough, stout, dark-skinned Creole woman who walked like how a Brahmin would walk. Hugo wondered how she had generated so many offspring with her husband, who weighed a splinter tenth of her preponderance. The old couple had been happily married for some 40 years and lived a comfortable life in the ruins outside New Orleans.

Hugo didn’t expect to find friend before he arrived at the dumpster yard folks called the Rat City, but he did in these twos. In fact, they were his only friends on this side of the Mississippi river. Abner and Rosie took him in as Hugo laid half-starve and half dead just outside the city limits only 2 years ago. They gave him a meal, a bed when he was sick with the fever and then a job scavenging with Abner and their roof to stay under after he recovered. When the merchant’s guild wanted to kick him out, they even vouched for him and before Hugo knew it he had two friends and almost a family. Now Hugo’s number of friends had been cut down in half, all because of a big dumb fucking crocodile.

When he gave Rosie the severed mutant tail, she smiled sadly and muttered a quiet thanks. For the upbeat and often loud-mouthed woman, this was her in mourning. The loss of her husband had hurt even when she knew life in the Gulf was always dangerous, but she would not be cowed. Abner would want neither her nor Hugo to fall over themselves in grief. Her husband had lived a good life and now with the crocodile’s death, he’s finally at peace. The old woman eyed the tail curiously for a moment before looking at the other man.

“What do you think about crocodile’s stew? Abner’s vengeance deserves at least a little celebratory feast no?” she was smiling now.

Hugo was stunned into silence for a second before laughing himself.

'Do it like frogs, I think,' he leaned in to tell the woman and laughed happily for the first time in days. 'You just let it out I guess-- God bless.'

That evening had gone by in rare form. A central bonfire, a community barbecue, everyone talking and laughing, recalling fond memories about dear old Abner. Rosie’s grandkids clambered over everything, over everyone but half of them were on Hugo, who was telling them about this one time he was in Mexico with his gentle voice.

Then it got late, and the fire burned low. Guests had left and Rosie was up in the house putting the kids to sleep. A comfortable quiet fell over Rat City and Hugo allowed himself to just live in the moment. He loved this life, the quiet unassuming life of a nice man whom children loved, a man who make an honest living and only killed monsters. The man he was would have hated Hugo, and Hugo in turn despised that man. He took in a lazy smoke as the radio hummed a dark tune to itself over the voice of Crawdaddy Jenkins. The wooden porch was soaking in his weight, so many nights spent on the cold hard ground Hugo could sleep almost anywhere now. He was almost asleep when Rosie stepped back out onto the porch, a bottle in her hand.

“Appropriate music, I’d say” the old woman said, after a while “A bit too sad for my taste, but it is appropriate….you know.”

And suddenly she was crying.

Hugo said nothing and wrapped his long arm around the older woman’s shoulder. The night was suddenly colder but their body was warm. The two of them sat in complete silence and traded the bottle back and forth awhile, til it had gone down to nothing. Rosie was sliding a hand up and down Arcade's back, and Gannon drifted, not knowing whether he wanted to be asleep or awake, warm and content, until the first shot cracked outside.

[Ralnis]

Vendetta

When it came to trying to trade their ill gotten goods that they had waylaid just a few days ago. The settlement of Vendetta was the thing that you could get anything no matter what vice. It was the town that where gangs had full control over the sections and it was the den for piracy and the trade of the settlement had shifted to the harbor that many river pirate boats of all shapes and sizes have made their way to all over their havens in the Mississippi and try to sale their hot property or slaves across those that want those sort of things. The River Peoples found this the easiest of ways to get rid of their property and try to buy some guns, information, or even hire new guns and specialist to try and make their band more flexible when it comes to trying to expand their workings and manpower.

With the chugging of smoke and steam, the River Peoples' steamboat was docked and the captain had passed on a few caps to a couple of poor wastelanders to help the crew to start unloading the cargo and set up shop. It may have been sad to see them unload stolen goods but that is how it is for people in Vendetta and they wouldn't mind doing a little elbow work. The River Peoples had been carting out the general goods, slaves, and a few oddities like electronic parts and cigarettes or even pre-war money. The good thing is that anybody will buy anything in Vendetta, but the bad thing is that it will be sold on a less asking price instead if it was for more illegal goods.

The most profitable was the slaves, who slavers were either looking for females for their vices or the guards to use them for forced labor. Many were trying to get a much more lower asking price because the Peoples were tribals and many thought that they wouldn't have a need for things like caps, but the captain was not as dumb as they would have thought from a tribal and they asked for higher or got them out of the way so that others can try and not insult them because of what they look like. They had seven slaves from their banditry attack and they got around 1400 caps for them all and the rest gave them a total of 3400 caps.

It was good in the long run for they have they need to start looking for hiring other or specialists after they split a few bags their way. It was apparent that the first place to go to find info on the latest equipment deals and to see what is the buzz around the region was the local watering hole, besides it was good to spend their hard-earned caps to try and improve their pirate band.

The Drunken Sailor

Being named after the sea shanty, the bar has quickly became a haven and local watering hole for the river pirates in the region or coming into the region. Many look for Vendetta as a way to recruit wastelanders that they deemed" riverworthy" as they have been mixing Old World pirate culture and the concept of river piracy into something else. The River Peoples occasionally make their way to Vendetta while trying to hunt down good convoys, trying to hunt down things like Steamboats, or just general information. The river pirates looked at the Peoples with mixed feelings some making remarks by bumping shoulders on them aggressively or spitting in their direction saying," fucking tribals" or" I wish those damn inbreds stay on land and in their northern regions, we don't need their kind stinking up my waters."

It didn't matter to the owners of shops and bars for caps were caps to them and they did occasionally brought up the same amount of service to those they thought lower. The Captain walked in and everyone looked at him with disgust because the River Peoples have made a good profit in the long run and they have been wanting the Peoples to go back up river into Monroe. The Captain was going to sit and a pirate got up and stood in his way while looking at him straight dead in his eyes and spoke," you have a lot of nerve stealing my convoy Evening-Dew. You think because you actually have some machinery that you tribals can just come to my stomping grounds and steal my hit?"

Evening-Dew looked at him in an equal stare through his goggles and spoke," you were slow Shiv and you know it. It is not my fault that you and your crew still use wind power instead of an actual engine." This no doubt angered Shiv as his crew and Evening-Dew's have always been act each other's throats and some have always been looking to one up each other and it has been like this for the three years the River Peoples existed. He slammed his hand on the table, something that made his local crew jump suspense and Evening-Dew's start looking in as they knew that the argument escalated, like it always has. " You know that 3400 caps are mine Tribal!" Evening-Dew smirked as he said," well if you want it so bad, come and take it." The argument was about to become a critical point and they were both going for their side arms, Shiv his 10mm and Evening-Dew his tomahawk until the guards from outside and the bartender, obviously part of the same gang, had pointed their guns at them both.

They knew what to do and the situation diffuse and Shiv sat down while Evening-Dew was doing what he came to do and started to talk to the bartender. The bartender was name James, and he was a minor gang leader in the harbor portion of Vendetta. James used to go by a different name back when he ran as a raider in the southern portions of the Louisiana wasteland and he decided to cash in his loot to retire as a barkeep and gang leader in Vendetta. He knew all people that there was to know and Evening-Dew with the River Peoples were one of those people to know. He coughed to clear his throat as he try to act someway like a professional in his age of 38," seriously, that is now the fifth time I had to call in the boys, I don't care what you say, if you going to kill yourselves for some feud then do it on your own time. Now, what kind I do for ya today?"

Evening-Dew was looking for three things in mind and he asked," hired guns, a medic and mechanic if there is one. Weapons and armor of a better quality then the stuff that comes around here. I also am looking for a better hit then the one my people last time." He then gave James one of his satchels that had a lot of caps in it by the sound of multiple caps colliding in the leathery bag and James took them out to count them and with a nod he begin speaking in hush tones.

" Hired guns will not be hard to come by, many people are looking for work since news of the war has been gearing up between major settlements and large amount of bounty hunters have increased in Providence because that Plugger guy has murdered the Mayor's son and that bounty is now at 800 caps, which is a lot for someone like me and you. However, I can put in a word that the River Peoples are hiring. Now, a doctor and a mechanic are hard to come by but I may know a few around the region that, if you can throw the right amount of caps there way and are able to meet there needs, then they shall have no qualms about staying with you.

Now guns. Hmm." He had to scratch his head for a second and continued, " yeah I know a few, but it may cost you a bit more than what your tribe usually pays, but I am sure that Chromebash is willing to strike a few favors to make sure that some of the good quality equipment comes through to you guys. I can arrange a meeting with them and Chromebash to come to Monroe to try and see what deal they can strike with you, but the talks are on your heads."

He gets a bit closer but he knows that Shiv care hear and it was his plan all along, but he will tell Evening-Dew later if he survives this," I had heard that there is a large a large shipment of goods that have came from the Western Wastelands. From what I have heard little about the shipment, but it is coming by boat and the score is about 6000 caps, whoever has the kind of money to throw around that sort of stuff must be really rich! Apparently, it is to try and set up some kind of shipping merchant business, but the kind of stuff there really says about the kind of wealth that lays in the West Coast. It may also be an actual steamboat. I suggest you go hunt down these rumors and find the treasure!"

With a nod he went off and so did Shiv for in truth the chase was on for the mystic treasure ship that maybe hearsay but James has never led the two adversaries astray, or did he?

[SaintB]

It's Crawdaddy baby and that means its time for the news!

Keep your eyes open if your heading into tribal territory brothers and sisters because its turf war season! The Peacock and Sawyer families had it out not too long ago and it seems as if the Sawyer's lead by their mysterious seven foot behemoth known as 'Pa' came out the victors.

If you understand the politics of our local swamp folk that means the Peacocks are out on their ass and looking for a new place to settle down!

So if you cats and chicks must venture out into the swamp watch out for skirmishes and feuds betwixt the Peacocks, Sawyers, and the other family tribes as they look to expand their domains and stake claims on each other's turf.

But don't worry too much brothers and sisters cuz Crawdaddy Jenkins be right here to keep his ear to the ground and tell you what is going on.

Now for some muzak.

[Krugmar]

Albert L'Auberge
L'Auberge Casino and Hotel
Providence

Albert walked into the VIP bar and found it occupied by several of his friends and his family. Their personal butler Jeffrey, a Mister Handy, was hovering nearby serving drinks. Albert made his way over, "Bonjour famille, how are we all today?" he asked as he took a seat next to his wife.

"Very well darling" said his wife with a suppressed but still hearable American accent. She was busy cutting away at some Iguana bits, while his children were having Brahmin steaks. Albert smiled and motioned for Jeffrey to come over.

"Good morning master! I hope that you are having a wonderful day, may I get you any refreshments?" asked Jeffrey in an excited an enthusiastic tone.

"I will have a bottle of water and... hmm, a few mirelurk cakes to start" said Albert, feeling a bit peckish.

"Right away! Certainly!" shouted Jeffrey as he hurried off to get the order. Albert wondered whether the loyalty on the robot had been set too high, as he watched Jeffrey hit into several of his men on his way to the kitchens. Albert then motioned for one of his men to come over.

"We have a stockpile of beer that is not being sold, and too much being supplied. Inform the bartenders that we will be having a 20% sale for several days. Then spread the word that it is in remembrance of the victims of the providence plugger, including the Mayor's son Ezra" order Albert, watching as the thug hurried away to spread the news. Hopefully this would entice more people to the casino, including those who needed to drown their sorrows due to the plugger. At any rate, it would hopefully alleviate the growing mass stockpile of beer and encourage more of the gamblers to get drunk. A drunk gambler was a risky gambler.

Jeffrey arrived with his bottle of water and mirelurk cakes. Albert ate two of them in quick succession, before abruptly standing up and grabbing his bottle of water. "Where are you going papa?" asked Claude, looking up from his brahmin steak.

"To the Mayor's office, I must offer my condolences on the loss of his son" said Albert, before promptly turning around and striding off with bottle in his hand. He took regular sips on his way towards the door, before the cold water was finished. He chucked the bottle to one of his nearby thugs, then bid two of them to follow him. They walked out of the doors and made their way across the pathway leading to the town. Soon he would be at the Mayor's office, a building he most fiercely coveted.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

Victor's irritation grew when the man asked if he was in the Brotherhood of Steel. "Not only am I not part of the Brotherhood of Steel, the Brotherhood is one of my most hated enemies, rivaled only perhaps by the God damn New California Republic. I'm with the Enclave; we are descended directly from America's pre-war government, and we have two simple goals, to restore pre-war America and to get rid of the mutants and ghouls. We've been fighting the Brotherhood for decades, and they are one of our biggest enemies. Here's a word of advice, never, and I mean never associate the Enclave with the Brotherhood of Steel, and never speak well of the Brotherhood in front of an Enclave member. As for my armor, it's called power armor, one of the Enclave's many technological advantages; you aren't going to find anybody with weapons or armor more advanced than the Enclave. Even the Brotherhood of Steel lags in comparison to us." Victor explained less than enthusiastically.

"As for your offer of a poker game, I really prefer blackjack to poker, anyway." Victor finished, resisting the temptation to say something unpleasant to the man. Victor hated the Brotherhood of Steel with a fiery passion, and anybody suggesting that he was part of the Brotherhood made him exceptionally angry. The only people Victor hated more than the Brotherhood was the NCR, although it was definitely a close match between the BoS and the NCR. Victor despised both groups to the point where he wished Caesar's Legion would wipe the NCR off the map, then proceed to hunt down the Brotherhood and slaughter them to the last man, and he wasn't afraid to say it. Victor actually held a rather high opinion of Caesar's Legion; as far as the Enclave veteran was concerned, anyone who was an enemy of both the NCR and the Brotherhood was a friend of his.

[Conglomerate of Iron]

Mayor Gregor Bolden
Providence

A trained politician could tell when someone was putting on airs, but it was almost refreshing seeing someone address him with some sort of normality. Gregor’s frown dissipated and when he saw Tamerlane’s gift, he thought he could nearly faint. This lady really knew her business, but that also unsettled Gregor more than it should have. He gave the woman a warm smile and told her to take a seat in front of his desk as he readily accepted her gift.

Taking a quick peek at the bottle he could tell this lady hadn’t skimped either. Not like those damnable cheapskates from Defiance. Setting the bottle aside, Gregor studied Tamerlane a moment before talking.

“Times have been difficult for not only our great city, but also for its humble servant. I lost a son to the bastard Providence Plugger.” Gregor paused a moment out of grief, then continued. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if it’s a contract you’re looking for, there’s always more Defiance Grunts to be shot, but you’ll have to take it up with one of my associates down at the military headquarters. But, I take it that’s not why you’re here. What exactly do you want Miss Tamerlane?” Gregor asked with genuine interest.

"I know you sent a bunch of PI's and bounty hunters after the Plugger, but I think you know who will best get the job done. My family has been in the business for many years here, serving whoever needed protection. We always get the job done. I am the best you have. And I currently need info. Your son.... I know it is a sensitive topic and I am greatly sorry for your loss.... but what did he know and what was he doing? Could he have known who it was?"

She smiled. Her speech skill was extremely high, and she meant every word. Sincerity and wit, like alcohol, go a long way.

[Ontorisa]

Snip

Snip

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Monet looked over to the sound of a fourth voice, someone he hadn't heard. Clearly it wasn't the voice of someone the pistolman knew since he turned, surprised as well. Using this time to prepare himself, Monet loaded the rifle quietly as the two men behind him were distracted. Taking aim at the closest rifleman, Monet made one last glance at the general direction of the voice.

You better know how to fight boy, Monet thought as he looked through the rifle's scope, taking aim at the man standing in a ragged leather vest holding the Varmint, pointing it at the newcomer. because shit's hitting the fan right now.

Monet fired, hitting the rifleman dead in the chest sending him flying backwards as the other two of the group scrambled for cover.

"Fuck! Davidson!" The pistolman shouted before cocking his pistol back and aiming at the newcomer. "Connors! Kill 'em!"

The other rifleman, wearing a brown beret, a leather jacket and light grey jeans stepped forward with his Varmint, aiming at the newcomer and firing twice as the pistolman advanced on Monet, firing wildly at him. Monet ducked behind the Backcush's corpse, a couple of bullets sinking into the already rotting flesh of the animal. Cursing under his breath, Monet dropped his rifle and unholstered his pistol before raising it and firing at the pistolman. Two bullets appeared to have hit their mark, one initially hitting the man in the right shoulder causing him to drop his pistol and the second one dead in the neck. A painful gurgling sound could be heard from the dying man as Monet stepped over the Backcush and took out his knife. Seeing his victory completed, he bent down and whispered in the pistolman's ear.

"Should've let me go. Nothing personal." Monet grinned as he whispered before he shoved the knife forcefully into the man's ribcage and pushing it up past all of the vital organs before pulling it out.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

Victor's irritation grew when the man asked if he was in the Brotherhood of Steel. "Not only am I not part of the Brotherhood of Steel, the Brotherhood is one of my most hated enemies, rivaled only perhaps by the God damn New California Republic. I'm with the Enclave; we are descended directly from America's pre-war government, and we have two simple goals, to restore pre-war America and to get rid of the mutants and ghouls. We've been fighting the Brotherhood for decades, and they are one of our biggest enemies. Here's a word of advice, never, and I mean never associate the Enclave with the Brotherhood of Steel, and never speak well of the Brotherhood in front of an Enclave member. As for my armor, it's called power armor, one of the Enclave's many technological advantages; you aren't going to find anybody with weapons or armor more advanced than the Enclave. Even the Brotherhood of Steel lags in comparison to us." Victor explained less than enthusiastically.

"As for your offer of a poker game, I really prefer blackjack to poker, anyway." Victor finished, resisting the temptation to say something unpleasant to the man. Victor hated the Brotherhood of Steel with a fiery passion, and anybody suggesting that he was part of the Brotherhood made him exceptionally angry. The only people Victor hated more than the Brotherhood was the NCR, although it was definitely a close match between the BoS and the NCR. Victor despised both groups to the point where he wished Caesar's Legion would wipe the NCR off the map, then proceed to hunt down the Brotherhood and slaughter them to the last man, and he wasn't afraid to say it. Victor actually held a rather high opinion of Caesar's Legion; as far as the Enclave veteran was concerned, anyone who was an enemy of both the NCR and the Brotherhood was a friend of his.

"I've heard of the NCR, and brotherhood. They've yet to wrong me, so I have no quarrel with them. But as for the enclave, if they all act like you, they would all be dicks. It's rude to refuse a game, and pre war America fucked up allready."

[SaintB]

snippy snip

For Rocky's part all he needed to do was flex his finger, three short pulls of the trigger of the weapon leveled at the remaining assailant's chest sent rounds into the left and right lungs, and his heart for a quick and clean execution. Rocky kicked the man's corpse hard to make sure he was dead and without a word walked up to the first man the hunter has shot to unload the contents of a shell into his skull just to ensure he was also dead. Now as Rocky turned to the hunter he didn't point his carbine at him but he didn't lower it either; just a safety precaution on his own part while he watched the hunter knife the last survivor in the chest quite viciously. He broke the silence between them while the man they had slain gurgled out the last of his air, "Was all that really necessary? I thought I was building quite the rapport with them and before long they'd be apologizing and carrying that kill for you."

When the last casualty ceased kicking he poked his foot with the barrel of the rifle he was wielding to test for a reaction. Yep, dead.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

"I've heard of the NCR, and brotherhood. They've yet to wrong me, so I have no quarrel with them. But as for the enclave, if they all act like you, they would all be dicks. It's rude to refuse a game, and pre war America fucked up allready."

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"How dare you insult the Enclave? Nobody insults the Enclave in front of me and lives to tell the tale. It it weren't for the fact that I don't want to get kicked out of this place, you'd already be dead. That fact is the only reason I'm not killing you right here and now for having the audacity to talk shit about the Enclave; however, if you don't apologize, right fucking now, I will wait until you leave and then I'll kill you. Nobody fucks with the Enclave and gets away with it." Victor said, menacingly, to the man next to him. First, he had the nerve to suggest that Victor was in the Brotherhood of Steel, then he had the audacity to not only ignore the crimes committed by the NCR and Brotherhood, but also to outright insult the Enclave. Needless to say, Victor was angry, to the point where he was literally planning on killing the punk; it might give him a bad reputation, but what the hell were the locals going to do about it? Nothing, save for the Brotherhood of Steel showing up, was going to stand in Victor's way.

[Ontorisa]

snippy snip

For Rocky's part all he needed to do was flex his finger, three short pulls of the trigger of the weapon leveled at the remaining assailant's chest sent rounds into the left and right lungs, and his heart for a quick and clean execution. Rocky kicked the man's corpse hard to make sure he was dead and without a word walked up to the first man the hunter has shot to unload the contents of a shell into his skull just to ensure he was also dead. Now as Rocky turned to the hunter he didn't point his carbine at him but he didn't lower it either; just a safety precaution on his own part while he watched the hunter knife the last survivor in the chest quite viciously. He broke the silence between them while the man they had slain gurgled out the last of his air, "Was all that really necessary? I thought I was building quite the rapport with them and before long they'd be apologizing and carrying that kill for you."

When the last casualty ceased kicking he poked his foot with the barrel of the rifle he was wielding to test for a reaction. Yep, dead.

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Standing up and brushing off the dirt that clung to his olive shirt, whose sleeves came down to his elbows, which was good for hunting and such, Monet looked up at the man.

"It was, they're poachers I'm sure. They would've killed us the moment we let our guard down no matter what." Looking over at the dead man's corpse, Monet spat on him before kicking his side hard. "Pretty sure they've been following me too, I just got so caught up on this Backcush."

Looking at the dead bear-like creature's body, its overturned chest was riddled with four bullet holes. It was ruined. The amount of meat Monet had managed to get would probably earn him 12 to 15 caps. Shaking his heads, he looked back at the dead body before picking the man's pistol up. He might as well sell it since the man wouldn't need it anymore.

"Want to help me scavenge some caps from these guys? Grab their weapons and toss them down here. You can loot those guys up there." Monet looked around before continuing. "Welcome to the Front."

Stepping down in front of the Backcush, Monet picked up the beige bag that held the pieces of meat he had cut off. He emptied the contents onto the ground before going over to the pistol man and taking his ammunition and few caps that he had and putting them into the bag.

"Well man, what's your name anyways since you just saved both my career as a hunter, my gear and my life?" Monet asked without looking up, continuing to go through the dead man's pockets.

[SaintB]

For Rocky's part all he needed to do was flex his finger, three short pulls of the trigger of the weapon leveled at the remaining assailant's chest sent rounds into the left and right lungs, and his heart for a quick and clean execution. Rocky kicked the man's corpse hard to make sure he was dead and without a word walked up to the first man the hunter has shot to unload the contents of a shell into his skull just to ensure he was also dead. Now as Rocky turned to the hunter he didn't point his carbine at him but he didn't lower it either; just a safety precaution on his own part while he watched the hunter knife the last survivor in the chest quite viciously. He broke the silence between them while the man they had slain gurgled out the last of his air, "Was all that really necessary? I thought I was building quite the rapport with them and before long they'd be apologizing and carrying that kill for you."

When the last casualty ceased kicking he poked his foot with the barrel of the rifle he was wielding to test for a reaction. Yep, dead.

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Standing up and brushing off the dirt that clung to his olive shirt, whose sleeves came down to his elbows, which was good for hunting and such, Monet looked up at the man.

"It was, they're poachers I'm sure. They would've killed us the moment we let our guard down no matter what." Looking over at the dead man's corpse, Monet spat on him before kicking his side hard. "Pretty sure they've been following me too, I just got so caught up on this Backcush."

Looking at the dead bear-like creature's body, its overturned chest was riddled with four bullet holes. It was ruined. The amount of meat Monet had managed to get would probably earn him 12 to 15 caps. Shaking his heads, he looked back at the dead body before picking the man's pistol up. He might as well sell it since the man wouldn't need it anymore.

"Want to help me scavenge some caps from these guys? Grab their weapons and toss them down here. You can loot those guys up there." Monet looked around before continuing. "Welcome to the Front."

Stepping down in front of the Backcush, Monet picked up the beige bag that held the pieces of meat he had cut off. He emptied the contents onto the ground before going over to the pistol man and taking his ammunition and few caps that he had and putting them into the bag.

"Well man, what's your name anyways since you just saved both my career as a hunter, my gear and my life?" Monet asked without looking up, continuing to go through the dead man's pockets.

He let the carbine go, the combat sling attached to it allowed it to hang over his chest, the safety was still disengaged just in case - the problem with rambling was that you couldn't trust the people you met no matter who they were, especially people that were armed with quality weaponry, "They know me as Rocky where I come from, and everywhere else I go.", he answered, "How about yourself?" he counter-queried.

The Regulator straddled over the corpse of one of the riflemen and took off the shades he wore, stuffing them in a breast pocket of the armored duster he wore before examining the corpse, turning out the pockets and etc. He gave a cursory check of the varmint rifle the man had used, ejecting the magazine and opening the bolt to peer down the barrel and look for fowling and other irregularities, closing the bolt and pulling the trigger a few times to test the action and then tossed it aside for the time being. Then he started turning out the corpse's pockets putting all he found in a neat pile above his head - a handful of bottle-caps he would count later, some 5.56 ammunition in a spare magazine for the rifle, various other sundries that were mostly useless, a pack with some matches still left in it (right into a pocket), a hunting knife that he used as his tool to get the final and most important piece of loot - the middle finger of the right hand at the third knuckle. It was important for many ways, as proof of another regulator kill, as a payday, and most importantly to ensure that the guy was dead for sure because it didn't matter how many bullets you filled a man with, if he was still alive he'd certainly object to you taking off body parts.

Then it was over to the next corpse for the same treatment of weapons and potential loot.

[Tayner]

"I've heard of the NCR, and brotherhood. They've yet to wrong me, so I have no quarrel with them. But as for the enclave, if they all act like you, they would all be dicks. It's rude to refuse a game, and pre war America fucked up allready."

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"How dare you insult the Enclave? Nobody insults the Enclave in front of me and lives to tell the tale. It it weren't for the fact that I don't want to get kicked out of this place, you'd already be dead. That fact is the only reason I'm not killing you right here and now for having the audacity to talk shit about the Enclave; however, if you don't apologize, right fucking now, I will wait until you leave and then I'll kill you. Nobody fucks with the Enclave and gets away with it." Victor said, menacingly, to the man next to him. First, he had the nerve to suggest that Victor was in the Brotherhood of Steel, then he had the audacity to not only ignore the crimes committed by the NCR and Brotherhood, but also to outright insult the Enclave. Needless to say, Victor was angry, to the point where he was literally planning on killing the punk; it might give him a bad reputation, but what the hell were the locals going to do about it? Nothing, save for the Brotherhood of Steel showing up, was going to stand in Victor's way.

"I can wait here all day, mister short temper. And all month. I don't hate the Enclave, but you're being rude as hell. I don't know what the NCR or BoS did to you, or your pre war government plans, but I couldent be that bad. If there's a whole army of people in power armor, and plasma rifles, there must've been tens of thousands of soldiers trying to kill them. Listen, why don't we just put this behind us over, say poker and beer," Gunny said gesturing to a poker table. "Or blackjack if your really that picky. Here, I'll even give you some chips. "And Gunny held out some caps, to trade for chips. "You can even tell me why I should hate the NCR and Brotherhood, and I might know why to shoot them on sight. Sound fair?"