Fallout RP

[Rescue59 GRFD]

District of Columbia, USA
Outside of Vault 104

The summer sun beat down on the grayish brown ground. Evidence of lives before The War lay strewn about the area. What was once the capital of one of the most powerful nations in the world was now nothing more than charred ruins. The War had killed most life in the area, however now that the majority of the radiation was gone and was only in certain pockets, live began to flourish outside of the Vaults once more. But even though The War was over, the Wasteland was still a very dangerous place. Mutated creatures were rampant, armed Raiders and gangs roamed at will, and stray explosives and other traps could lay under any stone. It was a dangerous place.

Alex walked through what was once a flourishing suburban neighborhood. Foundations of homes still lay where they had been placed centuries ago. Rubble lay about in man high piles. The sun was hotter than usual today, it must be at least 98 degrees. A gentle breeze tossed Alex's duster about playfully. His face was hidden behind a salvaged gas mask, his eyes were stone cold behind the red lenses of the mask. Rubble and stone bits crunched under his black combat boots. His assault rifle, a Pre-War AK47, was slung over his shoulder and bounced against his back gently with every step. Under his duster he wore a dirty t-shirt and dirtier camoflauge cargo pants, with pockets full of extra rounds for both his AK and his .357 revolver which sat snuggly in a hip holster. Besides his guns, Alex also carried with him a rough machete he made himself out of scrap metal. The blade was sharp enough to shave with, and was durable enough to cut through bone.

Alex had been walking for days, stopping only to eat and sleep. He had made his way from southern Pennsylvania. Sweat rolled down his back. He was tired and needed a safe place to rest for a few days. In distance he saw what was obviously a shanty town settled by survivors. He grinned. He knew that these kinda towns were always happy to see "Wasters" like him come into town. It meant more caps for them, and another person to force bad deals their way. Sometimes though, Alex didn't know what was more dangerous; the hordes of Raiders in the Wastes, or the merchants in these towns.

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[Viggy]

Coming towards the small shanty-town from the direction of the "downtown D.C. hellhole" was the ragged figure of a ghoul in old Pre-War green-and-brown Soviet uniform. His name had once been Yuri Kozlov... and he supposed it still was. It didn't really seem to matter anymore. This lone relic of a forgotten era was once a soldier on duty in the Soviet embassy, here in the capitalist capital, nest of the eagle, den of snakes. The propaganda about Americans was forgotten even by Comrade Kozlov, loyal lieutenant of the Red Army, after the bombs fell. Meeting anyone who wouldn't shoot him on sight was a rare blessing - ghouls were unwelcome here, anywhere but Underworld. Walking over the debris and barren earth in his leather boots, AK-47 slung on his back, clips and grenades rattling on his simple old brown belt, Kozlov made his way toward the gate. He looked much like most ghouls: remaining flesh all dry and rotten, coloured dark red and black by harsh sun and radiation and decay, a malnourished body literally bare-bones skinny. His old ushanka with the hammer and sickle still sat on his head, little patches of hair or skin constantly falling off and getting stuck in it. It was filthy and didn't help with the heat at all, but it didn't really seem to matter anymore.

He approached the gate, wondering if the townspeople would let him in... He had brought some things to trade, as he always did. Ammunition, medicine, and water. The necessities. As he waited at the close gate for someone to come and greet him, he spotted another wastelander approaching the gate. Hopefully he wouldn't be trouble.

 

[Rescue59 GRFD]

Alex was getting closer to the gate of the town when he noticed a figure positioned in front of the gate, standing and looking towards him. Alex paused a moment to observe any obvious threats. The man was armed, but that wasn't anything to be alarmed about. If you got alarmed everytime you saw someone with a gun in the Wasteland, you'd probably kill yourself. Alex noticed the mans attire and it puzzled him. He had seen this before but couldn't quite recognize it. Then it hit him, it was an old Soviet Union Army uniform. Alex was amazed that the man hadn't died of heat stroke wearing the uniform. Regardless, Alex continued forward once again and as he got closer he notcied something even more odd than the uniform. The man was a ghoul. He was shocked to see a ghoul wandering alone outside of Underworld, especially this far from it.

As Alex reached the gate he stood beside the ghoul, but said nothing. He had no problems with ghouls. That is, the ones who hadn't turned ferrel yet. Alex was careful not to move too suddenly around this ghoul, because the ghoul looked nervous as hell at the sight of Alex. Who could blame him though? It's no secret that ghouls are easily the most hated group in the Wastes, and this ghoul, already nervous as to what awaited him in town, suddenly discovers a large man coming towards him with a riot gear helmet/gasmask and a riot control vest under a black duster on? Alex almost felt bad for the poor bastard, so he decided maybe he ought to try to make some sort of indication that he wasn't a threat. Alex pondered how he should go about this for a few moments then cooly looked at the ghoul and said with his deep, gravelly voice: "Hey.. uh... nice hat."

This is when Alex decided that he truely was bad at greeting people.

 

[Viggy]

Kozlov looked up at the large human when he spoke, the ghoul's pale blue eyes literally glowing with radiation in their rotten sockets as he eyes Alex up and down. The duster of a wasteland cowboy, the armour of a Pre-War American policeman, a gasmask and a good old AK-47. Kozlov met his eye and grinned at him with half a mouthful of chipped yellow teeth sticking awkwardly out of black gums. His laughter was more of a wheezing and coughing deal than the chuckle it was meant to be, and he lit up a cigarette as he replied in the typically snarly and coarse ghoul tones - also with a light, but stubborn Russian accent that centuries couldn't quite erase: "Hello... nice gun." This was, of course, a joke. They had the same gun. Though Alex also had a revolver, and a machete... Whereas Kozlov had grenades. They made him feel comfortable, those grenades. Their weight on his belt was insurance. Not that he thought he would need them, at least not yet. This guy seemed alright. "Hehe. Interested in trade, stranger? I've got extra water."

At that moment, the gate was opened. A wastelander in goggles and rags gave them the 'thumbs up' from up on top of the scrap metal wall. Kozlov hoisted his pack a little higher on his shoulders and headed in, the mercs watching the gate giving him no trouble... He was being allowed in without scruples, it seemed. Of course, he had no illusions of safety. There was no safe place except Underworld; but still, being let into town just like that was refreshing. He headed down the street, keeping an eye out for local bars and shops, and of course for any would-be 'zombie exterminator'.

 

[Rescue59 GRFD]

Alex shook in head and replied "No. I don't need water." He then chuckled, "Nice gun yourself." As Alex finished his sentence, the gates began to open. As they opened, several armed men came out to double check the new-comers. Much to Alex's surprise, the men gave the ghoul no trouble. That was good. Alex didn't want to have to deal with such a situation, not to mention tthe townspeople would more than likely associate him with the ghoul and woul therefore attack him as well. Alex loved a good fight, but he prefered to avoid it this time. All he wanted was to get into town, find a bar, and drink. And hey, maybe have a little fun while he was here.

Alex waited his turn and the men gave Alex the go ahead to head into town. Alex simply nodded in response to the men. Alex walked up the hill, then through the gates into the town. He looked straight ahead the whole time, only moving his eyes to watch to his flanks. He wasn't surprised with what he saw. A bunch of boring, dirty people eyeing him and the ghoul up like they were from another planet. Damn townies... Alex thought. Alex rarely felt threatened by a townie. For the most part, they could fight enough to look tough, not much else. They were strong and mighty towards pests like radroaches and even the occasional radscorpian, but a pair of mysterious wasters? They were probably the scariest thing the townspeople had seen in months.

Suddenly, without warning Alex felt a tug on his duster. Alarmed, Alex drew his machete and began to swing towards the source. Alex managed to stop himself because he saw the cause of the tug. It was a young girl, no older than 5. Alex was star struck by this girl. She looked up at him with a fearless, but gentle, look in her bright blue eyes. She smiled at him and greeted him with a cheerful "Hello!" Alex was stunned. He could barely find the words to respond to her. Finally he mustered the strength to say "Hello there." He stuck his machete back in it's sheath. "What's your name mister?" the little girl asked. But before Alex could answer, a woman came over and snatched the girl. It was the girls mother. The woman took her daughter away. Alex just shook his head and laughed heartily. He walked away and then found what he was looking for. The bar. Thank God, I need a damn drink. Alex walked in and sat at a booth away from the main crowd, removed his helmet/mask, and placed a hand rolled cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

Alex sank into his seat as he was consumed in a freshly exhaled cloud of smoke.