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  • Fallout RP title








    War never changes, it almost goes without saying by now. Not much is left of the human race after it chose to eradicate itself with atomic fire on that fateful October day in 2077. The end, many thought, had come. But it appeared to be no more than a clean slate. For what that's worth... Out of the rubble A once mighty society rebuild, in many shapes and forms. Old and new ideas resurfaced, But war... War never changes

    You are a lone wanderer in the Empire Wasteland. A Northern frontier of these once mighty United States of America. And although you might think of it as cold, because of the certain "Hot Summer" from days past, the climate, even in winter is warm and sunny. This once incredible metropole now houses a variety of Societies:


    An Empire Wasteland Map 0.3

    'Sanford' a small residential block converted into a safezone and eventually a working community they typically advanced first aid for favors.

    'The People's Republic of Chinatown' on the southside is a communist fortress of Red Chinese sympathizers, convinced that one day, their comrades will liberate them.

    the 'Raiders Camp' above Queen's ruins is a force to be reckoned with, they are even in the posession of a working prewar Humvee!

    'Broadway & Timesquare' are now the center of town, really. Enjoying working electricity, think of it as a smaller New Vegas, filled with theater and casino joints. If you're looking for vice and leisure, you've come to the right place.

    'Governor' based on Governor Island is a settlement with a clinic, a research center owned by a mysterious doctor who rarely leaves the island... Then again, most people who go there never come back.

    The rest of this world is not worth mentioning or will be added to, by the power of YOUR imagination. (Which I hope will remain within reason). Remember that all of you have a 'pipboy' which can be used for all sorts of handy things. a Map, Radio, Healthstatus, Date, Inventory Measurement... Is there anything that thing can't do? On the other hand, it is completely up to you on how you will proceed in this hostile wasteland. 

    -

    Rules:

    1. The date is 2277

    2. The Races you can be: Human,Ghoul, Android, Beastlord, Dwarf but not Supermutant.

    3. You can have a pet, domesticated Molrat or Dog, choice is yours.

    4. Don't get too many characters

    5. Don't be OP 

    6. VATS is disabled

    7. Guns and Gun wounds work like real life. You cannot survive three bullets to the head...etc. Armored characters be it metal or skin obviously have the edge.

    8. New Frontier, New Characters... I count on you people to interact with our self-made NPCs. They don't need a backstory per sé. 

    9. Any body of water outside Central Park is irradiated and deadly.

    10. No random Teleportation, however the Metro lines (the big M's on the map) serve as fast travel points.

    11. You can be any faction that already exists but also create a new one. But if you do, make it credible. We don't need a billion 'new orders' and 'secret societies'.

    Existing nationwide factions: The Brotherhood of Steel and The Enclave. No NCR here! (obviously)

    12. A.R.C.Enclave Radio and PRCT are the only known Radio Stations in the Empire Wasteland so far...

    14. (Optional) add points to your S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

    -

    Character Card:

    Name:

    Age:

    Gender:

    Race:

    Appearance:

    (Optional) S.P.E.C.I.A.L:

    Weapons and Attire:

    Backstory:

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    • A.R.C.

      "And we're back!... Pouches and Maxy! Seems yer Mole Rat really misses you, Curtis... Wherever you are. The cutey recently found his way up to my office. he's been sleeping on my floor for a while now. Still have to discourage it from chewing on any of the cables though. Fear not... Nothing too major has been damaged yet"

      "This one's for you, my furless friend... And you beautiful people as well of course! Hah, I don't pick favorites... 'Magic Moments' from ol' Perry Como ()"

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    • Brysen continued to trek down the road, the dog with him. He decided to name her Athena, after a story his father used to tell him. He eventually reached what appeared to be a motorway.

      "Hopefully there aren't any raiders up here." He muttered, pulling out his revolver. He slowly crept up on the motorway, using it as a bridge to get to the other side.

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    • Brysen continued to walk until eventually arriving at a gate. He presumed this was gate of Broadway and was hoping.

      He walked up to the gate, waiting to be let in.

      Hopefully I have enough bottle caps...

      He turned to Athena, who was sitting patiently; waiting until Brysen moved.

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    • "Halt! First visit to Time Square & Broadway?" The guard said from above.

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    • "Yeah." Brysen replied, looking up at the guard. "Just passing by for supplies and a place to rest."

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    • "Alright. What's your name?" 

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    • "Brysen..." He replied, "Brysen Wintergarden."

      He looked down at his dog, "And this is Athena."

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    • The guard quickly looked through his register.

      "Ah, yeah. You're associated with traders." He nodded as he held the book under a light.

      After that he closed it and placed it back in the file cabinet.

      "You know the dog rule, right?" The man eventually asked Brysen.

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    • "Dog rule?" He asked, "I'm afraid I do not know this rule..."

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    • "Well, not many people bring pets here so I'm not surprised."

      The guard sighed.

      "Dogs or other pets are not allowed in any of the Clubs, Theaters, Lounges or Casinos. Hotels have lockup rooms where they can be kept during your stay."

      "Follow the rule and you're, golden." The guard said while opening the way to the nightly paradise.

      "Have a nice evening sir."

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    • Morgan ran her hands down her face, hooking the Sniper onto her back and sighed before turning back to Rook.

      "Better get rid of the body before someone spots it."

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    • (Okay, so apperantly you can't write and then quote)

      Curits was making steady progress towards his target, revelling in the glorious anthems of the Revolution until the signal cut out suddenly. "Damn it." the Ghoul muttered as he switched stations. He settled on A.R.C. in time to catch the end of Maxwell's broadcast. 

      "Nothing too damaged yet you Capitalist swine." he proclaimed to the streets as he walked along.

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    • Rook easily heftened the clerk up onto his shoulder, carried him back to the secret weapons' vault, and dropped him inside.  He returned to the counter and pressed his finger down on the botton, closing the vault.

      Rook looked Morgan up and down.  He couldn't fathom why she was upset.  He flashed back to wait Tyrone had said when he'd collided with Rook...

      "I'm sorry."  He told her.  "This is all very new to me.  I've never been in society like this before."

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    • "Yeah neither have I. It sucks. But...you can't just go killing whoever, ok?"

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    • Then Tryone entered the shop.

      "My my, what a coincidence" He said surprised.

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    • "Okay."  Rook confirmed. Then Tryone entered the shop.

      "My my, what a coincidence" He said surprised. Rook examined the dialation of Tyrone's pupils, to see if it was, in fact, a coincidence.  "I do not think it is a coincidence.  Were you looking for us?"

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    • Morgan placed a carefully firm, restraining hand on Rooks arm, just in case he decided to shoot Tyrone as well.

      "Coincidence? As if..."

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    • "I think it is." The man said, annoyed with Rook.

      "I'm here to talk to André..."

      "Didn't know you two where here." Tyrone said earnestly 

      "Oh, and yeah. Since I got a hold of you two, Miss Ray accepted. You can come and work at the lounge."

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    • "I'm here to talk to Andre..."

      Rook wondered if he shoot Tyrone too.  He could prove a problem.  but decided that would make Morgan upset.  Which was bad.  Luckily, he came up with a simple solution.

      "The shop was empty when we came in."  Said Rook, his emotionless face giving nothing away.  It was times like these he thanked his infiltrator programming.

      "Didn't know you two where here."

      "We are."

      "Oh, and yeah. Since I got a hold of you two, Miss Ray accepted. You can come and work at the lounge."

      Rook nodded.  "Let's go, Morgan."  He made for the shop's door, cool as a cat.

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    • Tyrone was left in the shop.

      He scratched his head.

      "Odd..."

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    • Morgan groaned, getting quietly dragged along by Rook again. "W-well done for not blasting his head off.." She sighed.

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    • Rook detected Morgan's sigh and groan.

      "Are you emotionally compromised?"  He asked.  It was the only way he could express concern.  He didn't have the words for anything else.  "You should be experiencing spiked andrenaline levels and an increased heart rate as of now."

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    • Brysen walked past the gate and headed inside. He was looking around at the stores and entertainment, when he suddenly bumped into someone.

      He tripped onto the ground and looked up to see a duo, seemingly armed and aggresive looking.

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    • "I'm....fine..." Morgan grumbled before looking down on Brysen rather disgustedly.

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    • Rook glanced down at Brysen.

      "It's alright, man."   Rook told him, once again quoting Morgan.  He gripped Brysen's shoulderr, and effortlessly pulled the man to his feet.

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    • "My apologies..." Brysen apologised, standing himself up. The girl looked at him with a disgusted face; Brysen clenching his fist in anger.

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    • "Yeah just watch where you're going, dumbass." Morgan muttered, scowling and looking to the bar.

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    • Rook's eyes trailed down to Brysen's fist, before looking back up at the man's face.  Rook watched him with expressionless eyes, but something flickered in them, as if he was daring Brysen.  He turned away from the man to Morgan.

      "Do we go to the lounge now?"

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    • Brysen turned away, spitting on the ground. He then turned to Morgan and snapped at her. "I said I was fucking sorry okay? What else do you want me to do? Bow for you?"

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    • "That'd be ridiculous...idiot.." Morgan muttered before nodding to Rook. "Yes, we need to go start our stuid jobs in this shitty place. Maintenance is a great place for a genius!"

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    • "Then don't fucking look at me like your a queen!"

      He backed away, keeping his hand close to his revolver.

      "Bitch wanted me to make her a cup of tea or some shit." He muttered, loud enough for the two to hear.

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    • Rook slowly stepped around.  He glowered at Brysen, noticing the position of his hand near his hip.

      "If you unholster that weapon you have no chance of survival."  Rook informed him.

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    • "I'd take sugar if you have it, dickwad!" Morgan retorted back before stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets.

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    • Brysen stopped, glaring back at them.

      "I'm sorry...your majesty." He seethed, "But I'm afraid we don't have sugar..."

      Athena cowered behind Brysen, growling at the duo.

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    • A man in an old NYC police cap with a badge that had flaked off a bit got inbetween them.

      "Alright. That's enough." He said confidently, with a baton in his hand. 

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    • Brysen glared at the man as if to say, 'Bad fucking idea.'

      "I'm sorry my gentleman..." Brysen muttered, "I didn't know you were invited to this party."

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    • "The fuck is this?" Morgan asked, genuinely surprised before she sighed. "Oh, I get it..."

      More pretending that the world is fine and fricking dandy!

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    • "BTPF, friend." He placed his baton on his chest medal

      "And you lot best keep the peace now, you hear?"

      "Don't want me to throw you in the cell now, would you?"

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    • "We were just leaving officer."  Said Rook.  He wrapped his arms around Morgan's torso and lifted her off the ground, before turning and walking away.

      "You need to calm down."  He told her.  "If we are arrested by the local authorities, it will only create more problems."

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    • Brysen walked off, wandering towards the nearest hotel.

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    • "I know, goddamnit!" Morgan yelled, squirming as she tried to get free. "Put me down!"

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    • Rook complied, and promptly set her down on her feet.

      "Now, are you prepared to continue?  We must head to the lounge."

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    • "Yes I'm ready to go!" Morgan snapped, folding her arms. "Let's get moving." She was about to head off, when she realised something.

      "We'd look suspicious coming in with double the guns we had a few hours ago. We should stash em in a hotel room or something."

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    • "Let's go rent one then."  Rook said, looking around.  "You wanted to find a 'seedy, cheap' place?"

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    • Brycen entered one of the more rural hotels, he had a lot of bottle caps and didn't want to waste them on a room. He walked up to the counter and awaited the receptionist.

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    • "Yes, the cheapest one there is. We don't have much caps at the moment." Morgan confirmed.

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    • The receptionist let Brycen fill in the usual things and took Athena to the back room.

      "If you want your dog back, just ask, alright honey?"

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    • Rook looked up and down Broadway, setting on a small, squat place that looked like it hadn't had a window wash in centuries.

      "How's that?"

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    • "Thanks." He replied, glancing over at the receptionist. "Oh...may I rent a room."

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    • "You just did, silly." She smiled

      "Here's your key."

      "It's on the 10th floor, to the right. Number 102"

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    • "Perfect." Morgan agreed. "Good choice, Rook."

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    • "Thanks again." He smiled, embarrassed. He went up the stairs and searched for his room.

      "Let's see...102, ah! Here it is."

      He opened the door and entered his room, closing it behind him. He brought out his weapons and laid them across the table. He brought out a map and stuck it to a wall, glancing over it.

      He placed a picture of a middle-age man, bald headed on his wall and looked over the details.

      "Let's find this son of a bitch and kill him..."

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    • Eilonwyn wrote:
      "Perfect." Morgan agreed. "Good choice, Rook."

      Rook just nodded, before starting in the direction of that building.

      (Do you want to control this hotel clerk as well, Rowan, or is that up to me?)

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    • A barely working fan rattled closely to door. 

      Behind a dimly lit counter sat the entrepreneur that owned this establishment. 

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    • Rook approached the counter, with Morgan in tow.

      "We would like to rent a room."  He said, his voice monotone.

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    • "Suuure... Ya got the caps?" The sleasy feller said, annoyingly looking up from a book he had found somewhere.

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    • "How many?"

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    • "a 120 caps..." He said while rubbing his snot off on his sleeve

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    • "For a single night?" Morganasked, speaking up. "Bullshit."

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    • Rook leaned over the counter.  "Here's twenty."  He said menacingly, spilling that number of the metal circles out for the man to snatch up in his grubby hands.  "Don't ask for more."

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    • "Sure, toots. You can go find someplace else then... oh wait... There isn't one."

      He seemed bored with his two 'guests'

      "This is the cheapest shithole your money can buy here."

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    • Brysen was surprised, his room was nice and cheap. He think he may have accidentaly wooed the receptionist, but he wasn't sure.

      "So I have to find Cal Riverwood..."

      He brought out a pen and started drawing on the map, he had been lead all around the wasteland in search of his target and was nearing his destination.

      "Must be here somewhere... maybe the receptionist knows."

      He walked downstairs and went over to the receptionist, "Hello there!"

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    • Rook looked over at Morgan.

      "Can I shoot him now?"

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    • "No..." Morgan sighed, stepping up to the counter.

      "Look, this shithol isn't even worth 5 caps a night, asshole. cut us a break here!"

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    • "No can do, toots."

      The man went back to his book. Believing this conversation was over.

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    • "Listen here, prick." Morgan snapped, leaning right over the counter. "Do you want to get dragged into the toilets and have your face shoved in them? Cause I can do that for you. Give us a room, on discount, and you can keep your head nice and radiation free!"

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    • He could live without their money. 

      So he simply ignored the whiny bitch and kept reading his book.

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    • Morgan did not appreciate being ignored. In fact she was thoroughly tempted to kill him.

      "Grrgh. What can I do to get a discount?"

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    • "Oh I know something, actually..." The sleazeball's eyes shot up from his scorched Jane Austen 

      "You interested?"

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    • "Depends on what the offer is..." Morgan muttered, highly creeped out by this receptionist.

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    • "Go outside turn left, head towards the gate and fuck off." He said, awfuly pleased with himself.

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    • Dolt...

      Morgan narrowed her eyes and raised her hand, now extremely tempted to get Rook to kill this fool.

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    • Jane Austen required his attention again.

      "Now, fuck off, would ya kindly, doll."

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    • "Right that does it." Morgan growled. "We're taking over! Rook! He has a gun under his chair! He's a hostile!"

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    • "Right that does it." Morgan growled. "We're taking over! Rook! He has a gun under his chair! He's a hostile!"

      Rook yanked the book from the man's hands, brought it into his own, and the tore out the first 20 pages of this pulse-pounding romance.

      "Room key or I keep tearing."  Threatened Rook.  He would try this manuver before killing the man.

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    • "Wait no!" The owner pleaded.

      "Fine..."

      he yanked a rusty key from the hooks behind him

      "Here's your stupid key!"

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    • Morgan grabbed the key and glared at the man.

      "Enjoy your wanking later, prick." She muttered before walking off.

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    • "I did not shoot him."  Rook lauded as he walked alongside Morgan.

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    • "I will."

      " 'll be thinking of you, toots" he added, though it wasn't quite clear whether or not if he was being serious. 

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    • Morgan swallowed back some bile that arose in her throat before jamming the key into their room and kicking the door open angrily.

      "I'm proud, Rook." She muttered, falling on the bed and sighing heavily. 

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    • The pillow made a crackling noise. A radroach sat underneath it.

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    • Rook stood still for a moment, taking in the room, before approaching the bed.  He pulled the matress cover back, gripped the bare fabirc of the matress, and began to tear at it with his hands, down to the stuffing.

      "Tired?"  He asked while he worked, obviously with some goal in mind.  He did not see the radroach Morgan had thrown herself down on.

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    • "Argh!" Morgan shrieked, jumping back and scurrying over to Rook. "R-radroaches. I h-l-l-loathe Radroaches!"

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    • Rook perked up.  His reaction time was impressive.

      Hostile!

      With one arm, he swept Morgan behind himself, to clear his path and get her to safety, before lunging forward, landing next to the radroach.  He swatted it off the bed and then jumped down after it, finishing the insect with a stomp of his boot.

      "Have you sustained any injuries?"  He asked, his routine after-combat question, whilst opening an ancient closest door and pushing the roach in with the toe of his boot.

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    • "N-no, Rook." Morgan sighed thankfully, her heart still thudding in her chest. "Th-thank you for protecting me!"

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    • Rook only nodded.  He noticed he was beginning a trend of not being able to express his welcome.

      "No problem."  Rook answered.  He wiped his boot off on the carpet of the closet, before shutting the door.  "It is my duty."

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    • "I thank you all the same." Morgan smiled before sitting back down. "Why are you tearing up the bed?"

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    • "I'm going to hide the guns in the matress."  He explained, going back to work.  Once he'd torn a hole wide enough, he extended out his hand to her.

      "Your rifle."

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    • "This will be uncomfortable to sleep on..." Morgan said quietly before shrugging her rifle off her back and passing it to Rooks hand.

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    • He took the rifle by the stock, but hesitated.

      "Do you want to sleep on it now, and hide them later?  I was under the impression we were headed to the lounge now."

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    • "I was talking about later..." Morgan shrugged. "But yeah, hide them now Rook."

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    • The android nodded and slid the rifle barrel first into the matress, followed by the Uzi.  He pulled the cover and sheets back over the matress so it looked like nothing had been done to it.

      "All done."

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    • "Right, back to the club then." Morgan nodded, pushing open the door.

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    • "Of course."  Rook agreed, following her out.

      "What does wanking mean?"

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    • "I'll...explain later..." Morgan sighed, going red in the face.

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    • "You said the same thing about 'shat.'  We never got around to that."

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    • "I will explain them both when we get back, Rook..."

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    • "Fair enough."  He said.  "I will teach you how to adjust the sights on your rifle and remove a suppressor, if that is agreeable."

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    • "Deal!" Morgan agreed, heading into the club.

      (Now we need Ro again :P)

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    • (Yep.)

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    • Luke/Curtis fianlly had arrived at the A.R.C. building, the call letters lit up as usual. He approached the door and put the password into the keypad. "Ha! what a ignorant swine thinking we wouldn't know his password." The ghoul said, chuckling. Wait. How do I know his password? The Ghoul thought briefly, but the effort gave him a migrane so he stopped early. Walking inside he was greeted by a Mole-rat inside the lobby, which turned around as he shut the door.

      He tried to draw his pistol but the beast had already leapt at his chest, knocking him to the ground. As opposed to the swift death he was expecting, the creature started licking his face instead. "get off me, move you mutant" his words had no effect however, as the Mole-rat seemed more than pleased with it's current position. "Pouches, Stop!" Luke commanded, causing the mole-rat to finally move. "That's mor-" his words died in his throat as he began to wonder how he knew the beast's name.

      He thought back and remembered living in Chinatown for the past several years, working hard with his comrades for the betterment of all. At the same time however, he recalled slinging Jet to fiends for the past several years as well, with only Pouches keeping him company as well. The more he tried to think what set was right, the more his mind began to scream.

      "uhghhhghhg" he moaned, as he fell to the ground, clutching his skull as if to hold it together.

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    • (Hey Rowan? If you get a moment, Hamilton also needs a response...)

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    • Brysen walked out of the hotel, a revolver tucked in his pocket. His target was inside one of the clubs, to whom Brysen had no idea which one. 

      He kept wandering until eventually finding a club, only to discover that his 'friends' were there.

      Shit...gonna have to deal with them.

      He moved towards the club casually, keeping his revolver out of sight.

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    • (Sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Exams tied me up, that and... a special something I'm working on.)

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    • The Retroriffic Man wrote:
      (Sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Exams tied me up, that and... a special something I'm working on.)

      (That's alright, Rowan.  When Emma gets here we'll carry on to the lounge, okay?)

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    • (I'm here :D)

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    • As Rook and Morgan entered the club, the former prepared to, reluctantly, hand over his weapons.

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    • (What do you need exactly, Psycho)

      _________________________________________________

      Tyrone had also returned to the club , since couldn't find André.

      He sat at the bar. Again, sipping on some rum.

      __________________________________________________

      Maxwell simply sat at his desk upstairs, unaware that the "Manchurian candidate" had arrived...

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    • (Well, he got shot at, the warehouse and now he's trying to see who shot at him.)

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    • Rook was relieved of his weapons before entering the main area of the lounge and approaching Tyrone.

      "We're here for our jobs."  He informed the muscian.

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    • Morgan reluctantly handed over her pistol and grenades again before heading into the club proper and walking up to Tyrone.

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    • (That were Mother's men, shooting Marcel (Blondy) You're clear)

      ___________________________________________________

      "Well, I talked to Brody... At Parisian Attires, down in broadway. He's prepared to give you a security suit." Tyrone informed Rook.

      "As for you... Morgan, right?" He then looked at the misanthrope. But wasn't much in the mood for a snarky reply so before she could he continued:

      "You can come with me. Backstage where I'll set you to work on a sinister generator, that keeps malfunctioning"

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    • "Security suit?"  Rook asked with confusion.  "My jacket is satisfactory."  Well, Morgan had it now, but he supposed he should get it back now.  It wasn't brisk at all in here.

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    • Tyrone rubbed his sellion.

      Are these people for real... They're so obviously here to steal shit. Wish I could warn them...

      "Well you have to wear the correct lounge attire. It's a way of... advertisement so to speak."

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    • "Very well."  Said Rook.  It did not matter.  He would... miss his jacket though.  "Is that all?"

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    • "Try not to kill Brody with that gaze of yours." Tryone joked. unaware Rook had murdered a man earlier tonight.

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    • Morgan hugged Rooks jacket close to herself and muttered something about how it was beneath her, but she eventually nodded.

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    • "If you'd follow me..." Tyrone beckoned Morgan.

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    • Morgan gave a fake smile and waved goodbye to Rook. "Sure..." She whispered quietly, following the black man.

      (That sounds racist Dx)

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    • Eilonwyn wrote:
      Morgan gave a fake smile and waved goodbye to Rook. "Sure..." She whispered quietly, following the black man.

      (That sounds racist Dx)

      (...)

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    • (I expected the gif. Now I've got water all over my monitor. prick.)

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    • Eilonwyn wrote:
      Morgan gave a fake smile and waved goodbye to Rook. "Sure..." She whispered quietly, following the black man.

      Rook halted Morgan as she waved good-bye, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, and acted like it was a familar gesture.  He turned his lips to her ear, and used her hair to obscure them from Tyrone's view

      "Plant a charge on the generator."  He whispered hurriedly, before releasing her.

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    • Tryone led Morgan backstage. Which didn't look nearly as glamorous as the actual Lounge did.

      It was quite a narrow pathway between two brick walls. At the end there was a fuse box.

      the black man carefully opened it up.

      "So? When do you plan on breaking in, the Ball right?" He said nonchalantly.

      He didn't even look back at Morgan at first. 

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    • Morgans eyes widened and she knelt down by the fusebox. 

      "Don't insult me. I just want to work..."

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    • "Alright. I'm just telling you..." Tyrone grinned.

      She might very well be a super genius as far as mechanics go, but she stook out like a sore thumb lit up with christmas lights where 'blending in' was concerned.

      Tyrone pointed up.

      " 'She' knows you're coming."

      He then turned around and went back to the club, he had to practise his piano.

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    • Well 'she' is going to get a grenade shoved up her ass..Morgan thought to herself with a sly grin before crouching and fiddling with the fuses.

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    • Rook headed out the lounge, retrieving and equiping his weapons on the way out, and down towards Parisian Attires and entered the shop with out much ado.

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    • "Ah bien swier, mine amier" A small man with a little selfdrawn drawn twirly mustache on his upperlip greeted Rook.

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    • Walrus king wrote:

      He thought back and remembered living in Chinatown for the past several years, working hard with his comrades for the betterment of all. At the same time however, he recalled slinging Jet to fiends for the past several years as well, with only Pouches keeping him company as well. The more he tried to think what set was right, the more his mind began to scream.

      "uhghhhghhg" he moaned, as he fell to the ground, clutching his skull as if to hold it together.

      He awoke. He stared at the ceiling panels, stained and chipped from centuries of neglect, for minutes before he sat up. Looking at him was an animal of some sort. They examined each other for a while, neither moving a muscle until the animal walked over and licked him.

      Petting it, he stood up. He looked through his pockets, trying to remember where he was or find something that would tell him. He had no success in either, so he decided to walk up the stairs in front of him.

      The animal liked this, and jogged ahead on it's short stubby legs. He begun to follow it.

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    • Whatever that man was speaking was not in Rook's programming.

      "Hello."  The android said, stepping forward.  He was conscious of his broad shoulders, as the paths inbetween the clothing racks were narrow.

      "My name is Rook.  I have come for my security outfit."

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    • A.R.C

      "...I never knew he could drink that much irradiated water! Ahahahaaa"

      "Well, I guess that's the end of that story. Next week I'll tell about Mike again, about how he grew a third arm."

      "Now... Her-"

      -

      Maxwell pulled off his headset for a moment. He thought he heard stumbling in the hallway.

      Cautiously he put a muzak track in the recordplayer and made his way towards his bed, and pulled the revolver from under the pillow.

      "Who's there? Curtis?! That you?" he called out.

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    • "Oh Sur sur! Follow mi" Brody beckoned in awfully broken french. 

      He had never heard french, only read about it in old book he found somewhere, and tried to mimmick it, unsuccessfully. 

      "I 'ave zis great ..." He snapped his fingers trying to remember.

      "Ah 'ow u say in anglais..."

      "Oh! Coat, yes..." 

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    • "Coat."  Rook repeated, not understanding half of what this man was saying.  "You have a coat.  Is it a security outfit?"  He asked, not grasping whatever the Fake Frenchie was trying to say.

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    • "Oh wie, wie bien sur"

      "Tierronné told mi u wuld cum" He added.

      After that he went to the back room and got a tuxedo that would fit the giant man.

      "voila!" he exclaimed.

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    • Rook looked the tuxedo up and down, skeptical, before taking it.  He immediately began stripping down, in order to dress into his new outfit.  His torn shirt came off first.

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    • A lone Thongzi soldier started peaking his flashlight towards the boxes Hamilton had hid himself behind.

      The light shun over the top and casted itself back on the road at the end of an elongated shadow.

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    • He turned the vial over in the light again, then out it in his pocket. He had finally reached a floor that looked like someone was on it, and walked toward the door with light. Someone called out as he went, but he couldn't understand them.

      He knocked on the door.

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    • "Eh, don't u wish to changez in ze bak room?" Brody said while nervously stroking his fake-stache.

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    • "Who's there! Answer me!" Maxwell's normally easy going voice had some clear stress in it now.

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    • "No."  Said Rook flatly, pausing in the middle of unbottoning his pants.  "Why?"

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    • "Err..."

      "Never mind"

      Not wanting to piss the giant off in any way, Brody just walked out of the shop back into his private room.

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    • Rook stripped down to his underwear.  He unwrapped the bandage from it's position around his gut.  The wound had sealed, and closed up nicely.  Same for his back.  He checked his thigh, and found that was healing as well.  That was good.  For a while he was worried he might have to tear infected flesh from his body, which was never any fun.

      He dressed in the tuxedo.  As he moved his arms, or stretched them out in front of them, he could feel the frabric straining against his biceps, but it fit nicely, overall.  Once he was dressed he stepped back into his combat boots, taking his old clothes with him, and exited the shop.

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    • (Without even paying xD)

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    • (Tyrone already paid. You smurf)

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    • Eilonwyn wrote:
      (Without even paying xD)

      (Does Brady have to die too, Emma?)

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    • (Alright, alright geez you piss waffles! Leave me be xD)

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    • Rook soon returned to the lounge (since no one else was posting, for some reason)  and looked around for where he would begin his job.  Although it was no work that perhaps suited his skills to optimal effiecency, it felt good to have purpose again.

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    • The Retroriffic Man wrote:
      "Who's there! Answer me!" Maxwell's normally easy going voice had some clear stress in it now.

      "Hello?" He called. Oh Shit. Is that my voice? he thought. He glanced at the animal for reassurance as he waited for the door to open.

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    • Maxwell wasn't going to risk anything.

      "Who's there! I'm counting to five! If I don't have a name by then I will shoot on sight!" He said, a little tremble was apparent in his voice as he spoke those words.

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    • The Retroriffic Man wrote:
      Maxwell wasn't going to risk anything.

      "Who's there! I'm counting to five! If I don't have a name by then I will shoot on sight!" He said, a little tremble was apparent in his voice as he spoke those words.

      "I....I don't know." he said honestly, not sure of much.

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    • "Curtis?" Maxwell looked up from his trembling iron sights, he recognized that voice. 

      The DJ quickly stuck his revolver in the back of his pants and hurried towards the door.

      "Curtis! I was worried something had happened to you." He sounded relieved.

      "Say... what's with the outfit?" Maxy joked, casually gesturing at the ghoul's fancy new uniform.

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    • (Rowan, I think me and Emma are ready to move forward, or at least I am.  Rook is awaiting orders, or whatever.)

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    • (Well, I'm going to bed soon, It'll be for tomorrow.)

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    • (Alright, night Rowan.)

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    • Tyrone had just appeared back from back stage. 

      "Ah, Rook... You made it back fast." He said playfully.

      "Seems you managed to shut Brody up, him and that terrible fake-French accent he puts on..."

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    • "I am not familar with French."  Rook informed Tyrone.  "So I was not able to make the distinction."  He turned his gaze on Tyrone.

      "When do I begin wrok?"

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    • "Err, now I guess." Tyrone didn't seem to think that would be a problem.

      "You ever bounced before?"

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    • Morgan sat by the fusebox, casually fiddling with it with one hand whilst working on her mine...

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    • "No.  I assumed the premise was that I prevent hostiles or undesireables from entering the lounge."

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    • (Going to work on my posts, when I get home. The laptop's pretty temperamental and the network keeps kicking me in the balls.)

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    • Tryone blinked with his eyes a few times in absolutely silence.

      "Are you an android? You sure as hell sound like one." 

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    • Rook's face was as expressionless as always.  "No.  I just grew up in the military."  I have to neutralize Tyrone...

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    • "That explains things..." Tryone said, buying Rook's lie.

      "Well, it's simple. You check this list, if their name is on it, they are allowed in."

      "If they're new, they have to pay."

      "If they don't wear the appropriate outfit you send them away."

      "Got it?"

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    • Rook took the list, giving it a quick scan, before nodding to Tyrone.

      "Understood."  Rook said, then turned around and made his way towards the door.

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    • "Right, I have to go play Piano now." Tyrone said.

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    • (He took the list.

      "Rook took the list")

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    • (I thought he got hold of it, scanned it (keeping the names in his databank or whatever) and gave it back.)

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    • (Lol, no, sorry for any confusion.  I can edit, or you can, which ever you prefer.)

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    • Maybe this isn't so bad actually...Morgan thought, sticking her mine underneath the fusebox. She peered inside the actual thing now, taking it a little more seriously.

      More light would be...advantageous for now.

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    • The Retroriffic Man wrote:
      "Right, I have to go play Piano now." Tyrone said.

      Rook made his way to the front door, and stood guard there, ready to 'bounce people.'

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    • He looked down at the Garment in question. "I don't know. Who am I?" He asked the man.

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    • "Eh?" Maxwell looked up confused.

      "Curtis. My reporter. Don't you remember?"

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    • Hamilton picked up a crowbar, that he found on the warehouse floor, the hooked tip would give him some excellent grip, when prying the manhole cover off.

      He quickly fled the warehouse, snatching at the iron crowbar as he did so before making his way into the alleyway. There he saw a manhole cover, which he immediately knelt down and got to work prying open.

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    • "Mister?" A voice sounded from above Hamilton.

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    • The Wastelander slowly looked up, seeming annoyed at the interruption.

      "What?" He asked, impatiently.

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    • A small boy peeked from the window above.

      "What'r you doing?"

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    • Hamilton smirked, sighing and shaking his head.

      "Maintenance..."

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    • The small child smiled.

      "You're fixing the hole, huh?"

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    • "You could say that, sewers are blocked up as usual..." He sighed, seeming like this was a regular occurance for him.

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    • A batch of soldier could be heard approaching the alleyway from the mainstreet. Their boots clopping along the ruined tarmac of Chinatown.

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    • (Sorry, notificians fucked me again...

      Didn't even buy me dinner first...

      Also, sandbox chat's back.)

      Hamilton quickly hoisted the grid up, dragging it to one side before peering in, this seemed like the way out of the city.

      "Well, looks like I need to get to work..." He heaved, placing the heavy manhole cover down by his side.

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    • (Ah, brilliant, was wondering when that'd be fixed)

      "Go East first... The Northern sewers have turrets in them." The boy said, looking up from his window as he heard the Soldiers approach in the distance.

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    • Hamilton looked up, somewhat surprised at the boy's information but he then grew suspicious, was he just brainwashed into helping the guards? Was this a trap?

      Screw it, getting into the sewers was what was important now, he didn't care about anything else at this point.

      The Wastelander slid into the hole and dropped into the sewer, landing with a light splash, which drenched his boots and the bottom of his trousers as he drew his rifle and quickly scanned the area for hostiles.

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    • Only the echoing of drops on ahead in the large New York sewers could be heard.

      So far so good.

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    • Hamilton carefully trod deeper into the tunnels, climing up onto the pathways beside him, to avoid giving his presence away with the splash of water. He just had to keep going for a bit, until he reached civilization...

      Well, a less fucked civilization at least...

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    • Meanwhile, above ground. 

      The guards had made their way towards the little alleyway and discovered the opened up manhole. 

      "Send word to Mother..." An officer in charge commanded

      "And you lot. Follow me." He added, beckoning the remainder of his men to follow down.

      Carefully he climbed down the slippery ladder down into the sewers. It echoed through the tunnels ahead.

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    • Hamilton heard the group of Chinese comunists climb down and decided to slip into one of the crevaces of the wall, deactivating his flashlight as he remained perfectly still, waiting for his pursuers to approach.

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    • "No." The ghoul said simply. "Who's that?" He asked, pointing at the mole-rat. "And for that matter who are you?" He finally thought to ask the man

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    • The guards carefully made their way through the labyrinth of stone arches and large tunnels.

      Their footsteps were revealed by the faint splashing of water. Aiming their flashlights whilst they looked for the tough as nails fugitive.

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    • Maxwell looked worried.

      "Who's that?" The confused Curtis asked, pointing at the mole-rat.

      "That's Pouches... Your pet?"

      "And for that matter who are you?" The Ghoul added.

      "I'm Maxwell Flower. Your... Well. Employer, sort of."

      The DJ decided it was time he'd ask some more questions. Perhaps he could find out more about Curtis' current 'condition'

      "Curtis, what CAN you remember?"

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    • The ghoul thought about it for a moment. I woke up downstairs and came up here." he finished with a shrug. there were vauges shapes in his mind, but he couldn't get them to focus, so he didn't mention them

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    • "You don't recall anything, from before you woke up?"

      Maxwell pressed on.

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    • "A Flash." Curtis said after thinking. "It was so bright, you were blind if you looked right at it. I was across the river at the time....Queens?" he paused, his brow furrowing as he concentrated on the memory. "Then the blast. The noise was louder than you could imagine...Windows blew out. Then the screams..." The ghoul trailed off, lost in the past

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    • "Is that literally all you can remember?" Maxwell asked while leading the discombobulated ghould towards a comfy sofa.

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    • Curtis followed him and sat down, still lost in the past. eventually he shook his head vigourously, shaking the memories out. "Yeah, i think so." he finally answered. Feeling something in his pocket, he again pulled out the vial of jet. "What's this stuff?" he asked Maxwell

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    • "Something you've had quite enough of, at the moment." Maxwell said, taking it out of the ghoul's hand.

      He reasoned that perhaps Curtis was on a massive trip. And this would soon all be over.

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    • Curtis accepted this without c\comment as he sat back into the couch. Pouches walked over and sniffed his owner's new boots before snorting at them, and jumping up into Curtis' lap. Seemingly just noticing the pip-boy on his arm, Curtis began playing with the dials unntil he accidently switched the radio, tuning to PRCT, where static still reigned.

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    • (Open for someone else to join in? This fits perfectly as my character John Praxis would be in New York in about this time.)

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    • (Should Rook and Morgan time-skip through their jobs?)

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    • SigvartTheDemon wrote:
      (Open for someone else to join in? This fits perfectly as my character John Praxis would be in New York in about this time.)

      (Sure! Welcome! Any questions just ask.)

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    • SkyrimsShillelagh wrote:
      (Should Rook and Morgan time-skip through their jobs?)

      (Well, I don't plan on RP'ing with everyone at once, so that would be best.)

      Tyrone awaited the two new employee's at the bar, it was 06:00 am. Time for Time Square & Broadway to go to sleep

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    • Morgan crawled out the back of the stage, looking dirty, dusty and exhausted, but thoroughly pleased with herself.

      "I should have the lights working better, by this time tomorrow..."

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    • "Alright, swell" Tryone smiled.

      "Here's your pay for today"

      The musician dropped a small bag of 200 caps in her hand.

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    • Rook came back aswell, reporting back alongside Morgan.

      "I have routed out any hostiles and prevented any undesirables from gaining entrance."  He declared.

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    • "Thanks." Morgan nodded, always able to deal with people a bit better when she had worked her frustrations out on some machinery.

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    • (I already linked my character, so I assume I won't need to post a character sheet here.)

      From the distance, a middleaged man with a business suit, a fedora, a briefcase and a gasmask appeared. He said nothing, just wandered in casually like if the ruins were a children's playground. He noticed the small group of survivors and started walking towards them.

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    • "Mja, I just gave Morgan your daily wages" Tyrone nodded at the giant who just entered. 

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    • "Wait, it's 200 for the both of us?" Morgan sighed, tempted to argue but too tired to even bother.

      "Fine.."

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    • "It's a daily wage." Tryone reiterated. 

      Does she have no idea how fucking much that is 

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    • The man in the business suit stands outside the bar, but eventually tries to get acknowledged "Greetings, good people. I realize it's likely bedtime for most people, but I require a roof over my head for one night. I get the impression that... certain areas of this forsaken city aren't exactly safest at night. Care to let a gentleman in distress in?"

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    • (It's 06:00 am. Where exactly are you, Sigvart?)

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    • "Oh well..." Morgan coughed, glancing at Rook awkwardly. "That's fine then!"

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    • (Ah, just ignore everything about a bed then. Let's just say he asked to come in. Anyhow, I intend for this to be Praxis' first time in New York. He has traveled the wastes for around 18 years, and now he's reached the big radiated apple. To say the least I just made him appear out of nowhere. He has wandered the city for quite some time now without any real (human) contact and I found it fitting that he just met some survivors. Both to help him out and to help me out as I'm not very familiar with these sorts of RPs. Consider him a tagalong if you will. I don't intend to use teleportation, but I made him meet you this once to get a hang of things.)

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    • "Let's head out, Morgan."  Said Rook, his eyes passively locked on Tyrone.  He then slowly turned them on Rook.  He canted his head at her, awaiting her approval to leave.

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    • (Sigvart, as Rowan will undoubtedly explain, there are multiple settlements, and complicated means of entry to each.  He has spent a great deal of time coming up with all this stuff,)

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    • (I see. I'll just delete the previous posts then and start anew.)

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    • Morgan nodded. "Back to our room Rook. I'm exhausted..."

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    • (Let's just establish that Praxis has made his way to Timesquare. he's rich and well dressed so there would probably haven't been any problems.)

      A mysterious man in a gasmask entered the Ania Ray Lounge.

      "Take a look at him." Tyrone, who was standing at the bar, nodded at Praxis. 

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    • Praxis merely nodded back.

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    • "Of course."  He said, hooking his hand at her elbow, and escorting her along at his long gait.  "Did they suspect anything?"  He asked in a low voice, as they advanced on the door.

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    • Tryone decided to walk over to the strange man. Trying his best not to say anything about the gasmask.

      "Sorry, sir but... it's morning. The club is closing."

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    • Curtis snapped the station off after a second. "Think they'd take it off the air." He muttered as he petted the Mole-rat's head. He looked up at Maxwell. "Wait, I'm a reporter? What do I cover?"

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    • "Ah, my apologies for the intrusion. I am merely a wanderer new to these lovely, radiated ruins. If you don't mind, could I ask you some questions about the big radiated apple?"

      Praxis went on to offer a handshake.

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    • "Well"

      Maxwell crossed his arms. He figured Curtis would wish to lie down on the couch so he just stood before him.

      "I sent you out to investigate the curious broadcasting signal of the PRCT... Whatever they call themselves."

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    • Tryone took it.

      "Tyrone Basie..."

      He followed it up by nodding.

      "Sure. Whatever you want to know, man."

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    • "John Praxis."

      He nodded back.

      "Mister Baise, first of all I should know what sort of areas I should probably stay away from? I overheard some chitchat about a certain PRCT. What would that be all about?"

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    • "Yes..." Morgan whispered. "Tyrone suspects.."

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    • "I wouldn't know. They're not something I've ever heard of..." Tyrone said.

      "Ever since I arrived here in Broadway & Time Square, I've had little interest in what happens outside. Only A.R.C. sort of fills me in, at times..."

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    • "Do I have to neutralize him?  I have detected several faults with lounge security that I could easily exploit."

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    • "A.R.C? Would that by any chance be the radio broadcast I've heard in my short time here? A good taste for music here, I must say."

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    • "Yeah. They... well, he's been off the air for now. Probably something technical at his end." Tyrone said, crossing his arms, making himself a bit more comfortable, he had been awake all night, and was quite tired now.

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    • "Ah... most unfortunate." Praxis lifts up his mask ever so slightly to scratch something as he ponders over this newfound mystery. Though he doesn't lift it up enough so that anything in particular can be seen.

      "I certainly hope the host is alright. Anyhow, I need a safe place to stay for the coming days. Do you have any suggestions?"

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    • "You seem like the man with the caps. Why not try The Emporia Hotel, across the street." It's probably the best hotel on the East-Coast." Tyrone suggested.

      "If I may ask, what's a man like you doing here?"

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    • Morgan shook her head. 

      "No, not yet. It would only make us look even more suspicious, Rook."

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    • "Alright."  As they arrived at the door he retrieved his weapons, and strapped them on.

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    • "Emporia Hotel... a very nice name. I'll go there later." Praxis said.

      "I'm doing what I've been doing the last 18 years. Hunting. Don't worry, not that kind of hunting."

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    • "Well, if you're the sort that likes Wildlife, New York State, North of here has thick forests I heard... Well, what's left of them anyways..." 

      "But I'm gonna go now. I've been working all night, and I am really tired." Tryone said, before eventually taking his leave.

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    • Morgan deigned to flop on the couch and rested her arm over her eyes. "I'm fucking beat..." She yawned.

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    • Not that kind of hunting either...

      "Thank you for your help, my good man." Praxis said before taking his leave and going to the hotel to check in.

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    • (What did I miss?)

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    • Hamilton pressed himself deeper inside the crevice, readying his assault rifle as he saw the lights drawing in closer and heard the pitter patter of the boots as they splashed through the water.

      The Wastelander listened out, getting ready to make his move, he'd have to be quick, both with his rifle and on his feet in order to get away here and use the darkness to his advantage...

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    • Sithfanjedi wrote:
      (What did I miss?)

      (Unemployment is down, stocks are up, and the UN has declared world peace forever. )

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    • Rook pulled the rifle and uzi from the mattress, laying them out on the ground, before unstraping his other guns and laying them down alongside those.

      He discarded his tuxedo jacket and tie, loosened the cuffs of the shirt, and rolled up the shleves.

      "Did you plant the charge?"  He asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed, opposite the couch.

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    • Psychomantis108 wrote:
      Sithfanjedi wrote:
      (What did I miss?)
      (Unemployment is down, stocks are up, and the UN has declared world peace forever. )

      (But peace... peace never changes. It gets broken.)

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    • (Sigvart's character is going to stay in the same hotel as your character, Sith. Perhaps you two can run into eachother)

      _________________________________________________________

      A bundle of flashlights carefully searched through the old brick laden sewertunnel Hamilton's crevice was in.

      The splashing getting closer and closer

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    • The Wastelander quickly jutted out of the crevice and fired at the oncoming troops, spraying half a clip of his assault rifle across the width of the tunnel as he did so.

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    • "Yes..." Morgan smiled, reaching into what was now her jacket with her other hand. "I even managed to make a detonator..."

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    • Several lights went out. Both literally and figuratively.

      "The son of a bitch is here!"

      Loud AK fire echoing through the tunnels, the flashlights now shaking and joined by the bright light of sporadic muzzle flashes. Dust and bits falling from the brick walls as salvos of assault rifle fire sounded.

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    • Hamilton was going to make a break for it but found himself completely bombarded by enemy fire. He had to duck down, behind his wall again...

      "For fuck's sake, why can't I just get away from you people!?" The Wastelander snapped, waiting for an opening before firing again, not as much this time thoguh as he didn't want to take his chances.

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    • "Excellent work, Morgan."  Rook phraised, giving her a rare, orginal smile.  He stroked his chin.  "Now we just need to decide over approach.  Perhaps we could go in as guests?  Or at least you could.  I would be easily recognised."

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    • "From what that black man tells me." Morgan muttered. "Im recognised as well..."

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    • There was a small window of opportunity, the majority of the soldiers had to reload. The nervous fiddling with clips could be heard.

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    • The Wastelander saw the opportunity and chose to step out, taking a shot at the heads of the three nearest RoCT agents. He quickly took the shot, finding that his accuracy would serve him well here.

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    • Brysen returned to the hotel, he had not found his target. He was pissed; he was so close, yet so far. Defeated, he trudged through the doors, keeping his head down.

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    • "PRCT." Curtis repeated. He could think of anything but his stomach started churning regardless. He looked down at his uniform. "Could I have got this there? Or are there uniforms here?" He asked the DJ

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    • He looked up at the receptionist whom was giving him a concerned look.

      "Listen..." Brysen stuttered, "You don't know by any chance where Cal Riverwood is...do you?"

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    • two of the three found their target. drilling through, right between the eyes of two hapless soldiers. That fell face first into the sewer waters.

      The third bullet however, missed. Leaving just one soldier standing.

      He replied angrily by shooting back. Hitting Thomas in the right calf while he tried to flee.

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    • Walrus king wrote:
      "PRCT." Curtis repeated. He could think of anything but his stomach started churning regardless. He looked down at his uniform. "Could I have got this there? Or are there uniforms here?" He asked the DJ

      "Perhaps..." Maxwell said.

      "I think you need to rest for a while, perhaps thing'll get clearer then."

      The DJ walked towards his fridge.

      "Are you hungry?! I've got cold noodles if you want some..."

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    • "F-Fuck..." Hamilton hissed, through gritted teeth as he returned fire, mostly out of rage this time, spraying the last of his bullets in the soldier's direction before limping off into the dark.

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    • The soldier let out a roar of sorts when he got hit in the arm. Dropping his rifle in the water. It took percious seconds to get it back and run after the escapee.

      "You won't escape! Fucking Scumbag!" He yelled at Hamilton's general direction. 

      He needed to get closer if he wished to have a good shot at him.

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    • The Wastelander drew his pistol and ventured deeper into the tunnels, quickly seeing another one of those crevices again and slipping into it as he got ready for the soldier's next move as he hid in the dark.

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    • As Praxis enters the hotel and walks towards the receptionist, he notices a seemingly broken man. He pays attention to the conversation and tries to check if there's any way he can help.

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    • But the soldier wasn't going to fall for it again, due to the rushed attempt at hiding, a small part of his stook out.

      "gotcha now... you son-of-a-bitch..." The thongzi seethed softly, aiming his shaky rifle up. 

      He shot five bullets after which the radioactive sewage water he had dropped the Ak in took a toll and jammed.

      However, one of the five bullets managed to pelt a bit of brick into Hamilton's left eye from the crevice's corner.

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    • The Wastelander's head snapped to the side as he winced, forcing him to close the eye as he grit his teeth and scowled. However, he saw the window of opportunity and spun around, taking the shot again and hitting the soldier whereever he could.

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    • Walrus king
      Walrus king removed this reply because:
      B
      22:22, May 27, 2015
      This reply has been removed
    • Eilonwyn wrote:
      "From what that black man tells me." Morgan muttered. "Im recognised as well..."

      Rook considered that.  "We could find out where her office is and climb up the wall and into it through a window."

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    • The salvo of anger, pushed several bullets in the soldier, killing him. He too fell down in the radioactive goop. Hamilton was safe... But not for long, more would definitely come. 

      _____________________________________________________

      (Scroll up some, Walrus... I already replied)

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    • Hamilton stepped over to the soldier and quickly pulled him out of the water, searching him for ammo and equipment as well as looking specifically with a knife.

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    • Perhaps he didn't notice but he had started to bleed from the eye. or at least, the general area.

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    • Hamilton ripped a piece of the RoTC soldier's sleeve off and wrapped it around his head, protecting the wound around his eye. He wasn't going to deal with that until he could do it properly, in front of a mirror.

      He took some ammo from the assault rifle and took the soldier's pistol as the ammo wasn't compatible with his berreta before taking his combat knife and getting to work, stabbing and tearing away at the soldier's flesh.

      The Wastelander couldn't exactly sustain himself on it but it was enough to keep him going for now...

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    • The radioactivity that lingered in the sewers was probably making him nauseous.

      Meanwhile upstairs, the word had gotten around that Hamilton was trying to make his way out via the sewers. It wouldn't be long or the whole underground complex would be teaming with Thongzi.

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    • Hamilton pulled away from the corpse, feeling the high levels of radiation enter his body, though he was used to that by now, considering that every beverage imaginable was irradiated.

      He would have to find some rad away before it got too bad, however, since he was likely going to get sick if it remained untreated for too long and that would definitely slow him down.

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    • (Woops sorry, phone editing isn't the best)

      "Not very hungry, but sleep sounds good." Curtis replied, looking down at the mole-rat on his lap, who looked like they were already sleeping. "Is it alright if I sleep here?"

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    • The echoes of sewer grates being carefully opened all across the tunnel system could be heard.

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    • Walrus king wrote:
      (Woops sorry, phone editing isn't the best)

      "Not very hungry, but sleep sounds good." Curtis replied, looking down at the mole-rat on his lap, who looked like they were already sleeping. "Is it alright if I sleep here?"

      "Sure..." Flower nodded, coming back with some food for himself.

      "Just don't sno-"

      He has no nose...

      "You need me to get you a blanket or something?" The DJ asked jokingly.

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    • Hamilton hobbled onwards, with his pistol hanging by his side as he made his way through the tunnel, moving as far into it as possible, looking for the closest manhole to broadway.

      Of course, navigating sewers was difficult without a map and he could barely make sense of his pip boy's map of the sewer.

      Still, he pressed on, moving forward as he got deeper into the sewer, looking for any signs of an exit.

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    • "Yeah cause I am capable of climbing a building.." Morgan sighed, shaking her head.

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    • "No thanks, he's warm enough." Curtis replied indicated his pet, still laying across his laps. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He drifted off, not to sleep, but the top layer of unconsciousness.

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    • "You could hold onto my back."  Rook offered.  "I would climb."

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    • "It's not exactly safe, or smart..." Morgan shrugged. "Or very...stealthy..."

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    • "We could shoot our way in."

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    • "That's even worse..." Morgan grumbled. "Fine...we will climb..."

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    • "I will not drop you."  Said Rook.  "If it would make you feel more secure, you could wear my jacket, and then I would wear it around myself aswell."

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    • "I am not sure how that would work, Rook..." Morgan pondered before shrugging. "Okay then. We'll go with your plan."

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    • "It would work like this."  Rook approached Morgan and, probably to her surprise, slid his right arm into the jacket, down the shleve, and then did the same with the left arm.  He then rolled his arms around so that they were out front, and stood up straight, effectively holding Morgan to his back by the jacket.

      "See?  There is no way you would fall."

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    • "Right, I see, I see!" Morgan gasped, her face a little red. "N-now put me the fuck down!"

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    • "You do not like it?"  Asked Rook, with what seemed to be a touch of humor.  "Up here you get to see everything as I do.  I would think it's an entertaining experience."

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    • "It's...s-strange!" Morgan admitted before sighing heavily and eventually laughing. "Y-yeah it's fun!"

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    • Rook shrugged out of the jacket and stepped around to face Morgan.  He had to press his chin into his chest to see her face at this distance.

      "So there is climbing.  I will break into the office through the window, open the safe, but we will undoubtedly have difficulty escaping with whatever we find.  I can not carry both you, myself, and the score down a building."

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    • "You could leave me up there. I trust you enough to take the money and come back for me..." Morgan admitted, looking a little sheepish.

      "I can mine the doorway and give you cover from the window.."

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    • "That will take to long.  We may have been discovered by then."  He glanced around the room.  "Could you perhaps fashion a parachute out of something?"

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    • "I could, but it would be extremely risky." Morgan mumbled, folding her arms as she thought. "I'm better with electrics than fabric." She sighed.

      "Guess I'll sneak my way out..."

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    • "Not for you.  For the caps. We'll drop the caps down, attached to a parachute, and then we'll climb down."

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    • "Oh right, yeah that makes more sense..." Morgan muttered. "Won't the people not going to this ball, notice the floating bags of caps?"

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    • "We'll do it at night, use a pillow case as the bag, and drop it into a side street.  There won't be anyone there.  If there is a problem, and some tries to steal it, I can easily drop from the height of the building and sustain no damage."  He did not share why, perhaps growing less open about his unique physiology the more time he spent in human society.  "You would most likely get disoriented, however, so that would be a final measure."

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    • "Right..." Morgan agreed. "Seems like we're sorted, but I don't know..." She glanced out the grimy window and furrowed her brow.

      "This is the fanciest place in New York. I'm...expecting hostiles at the goods, even with the ball going on.."

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    • "I will shoot them."  Said Rook flatly with a shrug.  "That's what I am good at."

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    • "Just...be careful." Morgan warned. "They might already be on to us and try to kidnap us..."

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    • "You have seen me in action."  Said Rook, then he realised she really hadn't.  He'd used himself as a decoy, but that was it. Not very impressive.  "I am very difficult to defeat."  He reassured her.  "And they do not possess weapons capable of doing serious damage to me."

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    • "It is different for me, however." Morgan pointed out. "If they get to me, and try to use me to get you to stop, what would you do?"

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    • "I would shoot them."  Said Rook flatly, not grasping the concept.

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    • "Even if they were using me as a shield, Rook?"

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    • "You are shorter than most humans and slighter, thus firing around you would be easy.  On top of that, I would calculate where to place my bullet so that it would kill your captor and leave you unharmed."  Rook jumped into a logical explanation, still not quite grasping what she meant.  "I know multiple hostage takedown manuvers and strategies.  Regardless, the chance someone would capture you instead of just outright shooting you are very unlikely.  And even, for you to be captured there must be a lapse in my guard, which is a rare irregularity."

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    • Morgan nodded, seeming somewhat confident.

      "Very well. We just have to keep this front up for a couple more days then."

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    • "Agreed."  Said Rook, glancing over at the bed.  "Do you require rest?"

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    • "Unfortunately, I do." Morgan yawned, stretching and sighing. "I'm exhausted."

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    • Rook sat down on the couch, and nodded at the bed.  "Go on then."

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    • "What're you gonna do?" Morgan yawned, laying out on the bed and groaning at how uncomfortable sleeping ontop of a sniper rifle was.

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    • "I will sit here.  I do not require a cooldown cycle for another 18 hours."

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    • The diva of Broadway looked at the security footage of Rook once more. Carefully she inspecting the frames and soundbits... After which she grinned, oh yes. She was definitely sure about this.

      Ania Ray spoke through her intercom.

      "I must say, Doctor. It’s nice of you to make a stop all the way out here, in the big apple."

      She was replied to by a rather impatient sounding man. He, clearly, had little time for small talk.

      "Well, I have business to attend to, south in DC, you best hurry up."

      Ray took a drag from her cigarette, after which she placed her red carmine lipstick lips closely to the microphone again.

      "The caps will be presented to you as soon as you provide me what ‘I’ want. Give the briefcase to one of my men, he will bring it to my suite in a manner I find satisfactory."

      The old man did just that, seeming really keen to get this over with.

      "Armitage, give the briefcase to that man."

      The good doctor then nodded at one of the security personnel, dressed to the nines in a tight fitting tuxedo that made his fat neck bulge out of the dirty-white collar somewhat.

      Armitage did what he was told and gave the heavy case.

      "Excellent." Ray exclaimed. Whilst her camera fixed on the Doctor, Armitage and her dispatched security staff on the ground floor of her lounge now focused on the elevator next to them.

      "Why couldn’t I just come upstairs and bring it to you personally? Miss Ray?" The old doctor said, noticeably annoyed by the terribly inconvenient way of getting this transaction over with.

      "Oh, I’m sorry. Zimmer, dear. But that’s sort of personal… I hope the agreed upon amount of caps renders things satisfactory." Ray replied, comfortably from her suite, many levels up.

      -

      The security guard quickly dropped the suitcase off at Ania Ray’s floor and returned swiftly to the ground floor.

      Meanwhile, Miss Ray opened her new toybox on her retro-futuristic glass table and inspected the goods.

      "Oh… These will do just fine." She replied with her deep seductive voice.

      "EMP charges, powerful enough to fry a Combat Android’s internal database. Rendering him useless. Until reprogrammed, naturally." Dr. Zimmer reiterated

      "Now… My money."

      Another security guard in a tuxedo, with an even fatter neck than the previous one arrived with a black suitcase. The guard opened it up, as if it were the most delicate of pizza boxes, showing Zimmer the riches within.

      "That will do nicely." He replied with a vile grin.

      "If you manage to capture the T-800, I’d prefer it if you kept him in good order… But he’s an older model that has proven volatile in the past , so if that appears… ‘impossible’, the loss wouldn’t be as great as if I were to lose ‘A3-21’. In fact we have Synthetics looking for him as we speak. Perhaps your problem will be dealt with before you have to even deal with it"

      Ania Ray, meanwhile, carefully inspected the small grenade like devices.

      "Once again, Thank you Doctor Zimmer. Our business here is concluded."

      After which, Dr. Zimmer and his bodyguard left the Lounge and made their way south, to the Capital Wasteland to track down another Android.

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    • (Uh oh. We're screwed!)

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    • (Oh-oh Spaghetti-ohs)

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    • Psychomantis108 wrote:
      Hamilton hobbled onwards, with his pistol hanging by his side as he made his way through the tunnel, moving as far into it as possible, looking for the closest manhole to broadway.

      Of course, navigating sewers was difficult without a map and he could barely make sense of his pip boy's map of the sewer.

      Still, he pressed on, moving forward as he got deeper into the sewer, looking for any signs of an exit.

      (Also, hate to be 'that guy' but... XD)

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    • (Should I take control of the receptionist or...?)

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    • (To both of you. "Do you really need me for that?")

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    • (I thought that you had more planned but I guess that I can just include climbing out o the sewer in my next bit. I was just making sure that you hadn't missed it...)

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    • (I'm sort of waiting for you to escape. xD Get on with it! D:<)

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    • Hamilton hobbled deeper into the sewers, looking for a ladder or something that he could latch onto and use to climb out as he went. As fortune would have it, clearly smiling uppon him right now, he saw the unmistakable site of a maintanence ladder.

      He had to be away from that compound now, it wasn't that big surely...

      The Wastelander quickly latched onto the ladder and climbed out, slowly lifting the manhole cover off and creating a small slit for him to see through before climbing out.

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    • The Retroriffic Man wrote:
      The guard opened it up, as if it were the most delicate of pizza boxes

      (This is a great line.)

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    • "Alright..." Morgan sighed, rolling over to shut the sun out. "Do...not watch me or anything, got that?"

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    • Hamilton was greeted by the morning sun. The manhole stood in the middle of a ruined square looking at a big building with an antenna untop. 

      The arconym A.R.C. adorned a canopy roof above the front doors.

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    • "I should not stare in your vacinity, affirmative."  Said Rook, almost immediately averting his eyes to the door.  He pulled his shotgun out and laid it on his lap, and was still until morning, an unflinching sentinel.

      (Time-skip?)

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    • (Well you mean night time, right? Sine they work nightshift lol...)

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