aaaaaaaagh_sky | Paradise Falls

The door opens on the Capital Wasteland, its rolling scrubby landscape peeling away in every direction. Off to the east, the huddle of reinforced walls can be seen. "This is as close as we can get to Paradise Falls without being seen," Ellen says. "This would be the best place to start from... welcome to the Wasteland, by the way."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

justcallmefee

Two points of interest: head boss man is the kind who likes to advertise where he sleeps (idiot), and the "livestock" pens. Again, her jaw clenches.

Fiona describes the layout so far in brief, tactical language, keeping her voice down as she walks. "I'm heading to the pens now. No sign of the transmitter yet, but I'm guessing it's centrally located." Probably in head boss man's HQ and here's hoping he put up a sign for that, too.

She's thinking she's glad she brought her good set of lock picks and the wire cutters, just in case it comes to that.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

The pens, it happens, are shared with more than one kind of livestock. Part of the rank smell is the work of a massive, thin-furred, two headed bovine with an udder that would make James Herriot wince. It turns one of its heads in Fiona's direction, makes a small grumbling noise, and moves on between the fences.

Beyond the cow, the pens are divided down the middle by a similarly high fence. A cluster of adults ranging in age from 'just out of teenagerdom' to 'ancient' with a brief stop for 'never mind your age, what the hell happened to your nose' occupies the right-hand side. To the left, three or four children- perhaps eight, perhaps ten, hard to say when Wasteland nutrition is involved- are doing their best to be unobtrusive and avoid the eye of the guard at the gate to the pens.

From:

justcallmefee

"Bingo."

She has to take a moment to bite back her initial response to seeing these people kept like and with animals. It really would be a suicide attack if she took off the heads of every guard here, but that doesn't keep her from flexing the fingers of her right hand over and over again.

She heads for the guards.

"Hey sugar," she drawls. "You who I talk to about the merchandise?" She juts her chin out, gesturing to the pens.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

The guard starts to look Fiona up and down, but his eyes stop on her weaponry; he knows better than to take certain chances. "You talk to me, you show your caps, you get to make your selection," he says. "Eulogy's the one you talk to for the final sale. Most of these are earmarked already, but we still have a few...."

From:

justcallmefee

Her eyes narrow. Show the cash first, risk getting killed for it. She's done this dance a thousand and one times with equally illicit merchandise. (Guns usually, or explosives. Never people.)

She shakes her hand out and reaches inside her jacket, pulling out the small canvas sack and giving it a heft to make the contents rattle.

"I want those." Her other hand points at the kids.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

The sound of bottlecaps against bottlecaps is very distinctive. He laughs; it's not a pleasant sound. "This is your lucky day, then," he says. "It's the adults that're off the market. The Pitt don't buy half as many kids. I'll go get Eulogy for you. No funny stuff- we got our eye on you."

And with that he strolls off towards Eulogy's Pad, whistling cheerfully as he goes.

From:

justcallmefee

"Take your time," she sneers. "Ain't like I got places to be or anything."

Fiona watches him go, one hand shielding her eyes against the perpetual glare of the Wasteland sun, the other brushing her choker to thumb the throat mic.

"You know that name?"

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"It... sounds familiar," Ellen says over the radio. "I think one of the runaways at the Lincoln Memorial mentioned Eulogy Jones. The Pitt used to be Pittsburgh. The Brotherhood scoured it years ago. Someone must've decided to reoccupy the place..."

From:

justcallmefee

"More intel better," Fiona muses.

She's deliberately not looking at the kids or the adults either for that matter. She can't or she'll lose it and they'll all be fucked.

Her heel is bouncing on the ground in a manner that says bored, not antsy, and she's mentally totalling up how many rounds of ammo she has in each weapon before she gets to switch to the Bowie knife.

"Perimeter detonator needs a transmitter. Centrally located. Some place secure. I'm guessing Eulogy's pad," she muses, her voice only loud enough to trigger the mic.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"I wouldn't be surprised. He's probably got a terminal hooked up to a radio antenna somewhere in there. I've seen it done with another system before."

One of the Pad's doors opens, and the guard emerges, followed by a dark-skinned man in a well-kept, deep red suit.

From:

justcallmefee

Well, would you look at that? A man who knows how to wear a suit in the middle of all this delightful devastation.

Fiona shifts her weight, a predatory grin blossoming on her features.

"Mister Jones, I presume?" She can't help but here the Frenchman's lilting accent in the back of her head. If you could only see her now, Indy.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"The one and only," says the red-suited man with a smooth bow. "Ronson here tells me you've taken an interest in my newest acquisitions. Am I correct in thinking you want the whole set?"

From:

justcallmefee

"Maybe," she answers, her eyes never leaving his face even as she's acutely aware of where his hands are.

"I want to take a look at them first. If they're all in working order, then yeah, I'll take them off your hands."

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"An educated consumer is our best customer," says Eulogy with a smile. He nods to the guard, who moves forward to unlock the gate. "I should note that the oldest of the three has one of the better educations I've seen in the Wasteland so far. A valuable commodity in any situation."

From:

justcallmefee

Fiona pulls a face, one hand on her hip.

"I just want to make sure their fingers aren't broken and that their teeth aren't rotten. He's not so smart he's going to get ideas now, is he?"

She follows the guard through into the inner fenced corridor, trying not to hear the old man muttering in the corner of the chain link dog run.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"Not if he knows what's good for him," says Eulogy. The guard shoves the children forward- one boy as dark as Eulogy, one girl a little lighter-skinned, and one very dirty boy a little older than the two. They've all got collars on and, it goes without saying, look as if they would rather be somewhere else.

From:

justcallmefee

Fiona is the oldest of seven kids, and helped her mum raise her brothers and sister. She touches each of them on the head with a gentle hand, tipping their faces up to the light.

She catches the eye of the oldest and gives him a smile and a tiny wink. The light in his eyes does her heart a world of good.

She grabs him by the chin and snaps, "Open." He obliges her, and she peers into his mouth, tipping his head to one side and the other. The other kids get a similar once over, the girl almost in tears at the treatment.

She pulls their hands up to examine them, and tries to give a little reassuring squeeze, but the girl isn't having any of it. The older boy touches her on the shoulder and pulls her back.

"Yeah, I guess they'll do." She turns back to Eulogy with an edged look on her face. "How much?"

It's taking every ounce of willpower she has not to rip the man's throat out with her bare hands. But they're still wearing their collars, and she doesn't have backup.

Still, it's a damned close thing.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Eulogy thinks for a moment, then cites a number for each of the children; the educated one's price is considerably higher. The total is within the amount of caps Ellen handed over.

... Ellen kinda sells a lot of stuff from people who've been stupid enough to attack her.

From:

justcallmefee

Fiona crosses her arms and chews on the number for a moment.

"Yeah, all right," she drawls. "Sounds reasonable to me. You want the money here or behind closed doors?"

She doesn't know what the rules of business etiquette are here, and in other situations like this, she's never gone wrong by asking.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"Nothing wrong with dealings in public," says Eulogy. "Everyone here is part of the deal, after all."

From:

justcallmefee

She still drops back a half pace, eyes on the guards, and the sentry up above them all. She pulls out the bag of caps again, and takes the balance of the total out, slipping them back into her pocket just loose.

"You gonna take those collars off for me or is there an added fee for that?"

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

"Actually, we generally include the collars in the price of the sale," says Eulogy. "I do keep a small stock of handheld transmitters available for new purchases; they're a bit awkward to carry in terms of size, but most buyers and transporters find that it prevents stock loss. But if you'd rather-"

From:

justcallmefee

"Oh really. No, that'll do just fine."

Score. She can back hack the transmitter and make Ellen a jammer.

From:

aaaaaaaagh_sky

A normal person would get worried at the look on Fiona's face. Unfortunately, pretty much everyone Eulogy ever deals with thinks that kind of expression is normal, and so he only nods and presents her with an electronic box perhaps fourteen inches across. "An excellent choice," he says. "If there's anything else I can do to make your purchase a smooth one, please, do let me know."