Megaton

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The door opens on exactly the heat and smell one might expect of a metal-walled, metal-roofed, metal-floored community bathroom in the later part of summer someplace well south of the Mason-Dixon Line. It's something of a mercy that the sun's almost completely down, as the hottest part of the day's been and gone; nevertheless, a certain measure of swelter remains.

One ought to expect that sort of thing here, really. Quite aside from the condition of the Megaton women's restrooms- which are as clean as people with a restricted water supply can manage- an about-face will reveal the nature of the town all too clearly. Given half a chance humans will live absolutely anywhere they can manage it, and here they've managed it in the sides of a massive crater. Everything in sight- everything- is made of metal. Scavenged from somewhere, clearly, and put to hard use immediately, it rather has the look of a junkyard made to disgorge all its larger elements at once.

"The bomb's down there," Ellen says, pointing down towards the center of the crater. "Are you all right?"

Comments

[aeons_crackshot]

"That's likely to be the tricky bit. If he can hold their attention, we can probably make our way back up the slope. I've no idea what you're going to tell them about where we went though."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"We're going to tell anyone who asks that we're looking for Sheriff Simms, to thank him for letting us make our pilgrimage," Ellen mutters. "Okay, here goes..."

It's a lucky thing Demyx hasn't got a drum with him, because even in the Vault's isolation Ellen learned what a drum roll meant, and she'd probably roll her eyes at one of those right now. Not that it's all that important. A few moments later she holds out a pair of gleaming wires.

"We're done. We should withdraw before people start talking to us."

[aeons_crackshot]

(OOC: I must call slow-time for the night.)

Annabelle nods in understanding, and starts to make her way up the path. She's still keeping an eye out for trouble.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

If there's going to be trouble, it's likely going to be once Demyx stops. Right now everyone's attention seems to be riveted there.

Well, everyone's except for one man's, all the way up at the top of the stairs some distance back from the crowd; he's middle aged or older, grey-bearded, dark-skinned, and wearing the cowboy hat and leather duster one would expect of somebody out of the old west. "Impressive show you people put on," he says dryly.

"It seemed like the easiest way to make sure nobody caused trouble," says Ellen. "Annabelle, this is Sheriff Simms. He's in charge around here. Sheriff, this is my friend Annabelle Newfield."

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle smiles and extends her hand, "It's good to meet you Sheriff Simms. I offered to keep an eye out for trouble while Ellen did her work, but, thankfully, it looks like my talents aren't going to be needed tonight."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Not unless your friend down there starts a riot," says the Sheriff, shaking the offered hand. "Long as he doesn't, I'm not going to ask where you two came from or how you got past Deputy Weld without him noticing." He glances over at Ellen. "So did you pull it off?"

Wordlessly, Ellen holds up a handful of parts from the bomb's control mechanisms. That's the thing about atomic warheads: they require high explosives to compress their fissile material enough to actually induce the reaction. Ellen figured that if it didn't look like it belonged in the Vault's reactor, it was probably a control mechanism for the explosives and needed to come out.

"Excellent," says the Sheriff with considerable satisfaction. "In that case... well. I know I promised you a hundred and fifty caps, but all things considered I think we might be able to come to an accommodation of a different kind."

[aeons_crackshot]

"I don't think he's planning on causing any trouble, although pulling him away from an appreciative audience before he collapses may prove difficult," Annabelle says dryly.

She raises an eyebrow at the mention of an 'accommodation of a different kind.'

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Simms shakes his head. "Wasn't planning on trying," he says. "I heard you folks on your way down. I know better than to interrupt someone who's that good at pretending he's crazy."

"Anyway. We have a pretty strict rule in Megaton that if you want to live here, you've got to have contributed a lot to this town in one way or another." He nods towards a nearby building, just to the left of the stairs. "We've got a house here that's gone empty ever since its last owner died. I know you said you were just here looking for your father, but between that bomb and Burke, I'd say you've earned a place here with us. It's yours if you want it."

[aeons_crackshot]

"We all have our talents," Annabelle says with a grin. She doesn't plan on telling Sheriff Simms that Demyx wasn't acting.

She eyes the...house carefully. It doesn't look like it's going to collapse around Ellen's ears, but she's no architect.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen rubs at the back of her neck, looking at the house. On the one hand, she could probably easily spend the night in Milliways before going after her father. On the other hand, time hasn't moved at all here while she's been in the Bar, the few times she's done it. And on the mutated hand, it would probably be horribly insulting to these people to say 'no, I don't want your house, I can stay in a super special bar somewhere you've never heard of and can't reach'.

"Thank you, Sheriff," she says aloud. "I'd be honored."

"Good. Here's the key, and the deed to the house." Simms dips into one of his coat's pockets and extracts the items in question. "Keep it locked. We get all kinds around here, and I can't be everywhere at once. Now, someone probably ought to go and tell your friend to stop hamming it up down there..."

[aeons_crackshot]

"Do you want to go and get him, or would you rather I make the attempt?" Annabelle asks Ellen.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Would you mind?" asks Ellen. "I don't mean to shove it off on you, but- well, you did all the talking before, so..."

[aeons_crackshot]

"I don't mind, although I may not have much luck getting him to leave."

Annabelle starts to make her way toward Demyx. When she thinks she's close enough that Demyx might hear her, she says, "I think it's about time for our little pilgrimage to be over, Demyx. We've done what we came here to do."

[dancewaterdance]

Demyx makes a totally sad face.

"One more? Please?" he asks as his fingers continue to dance across the strings.

One more and that water will be completely purified.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle can't quite resist the sad face. "All right, one more song to close things out properly, but then we need to leave."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Someone in the back of the crowd assembled by the Brass Lantern calls out "Encore, encore!" It's been a long time since they had really good entertainment around here, after all.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle grins at the cries of 'Encore' and waits to see what Demyx is going to do for his final number.

[dancewaterdance]

"Alright everyone! Last one!" Demyx declares, spinning the sitar on its end and bringing it up to start up his last song for the night.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle hasn't heard this kind of music before. She's listening intently, although she's still keeping an eye on everything that's going on.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Neither has Ellen, who's watching and listening from up above. And neither has anyone else here. This world's been through a lot... but it's never been through the social changes that brought about rock music, let alone any of the styles that descended from it. This/ is utterly new to them all.

[dancewaterdance]

Demyx is more than happy to oblige, bringing music to those that need it most.

A little music can do wonders to strengthen a will, and will means everything.

When the song finishes, he spins his sitar on its end again. "Alright, we can go now."

The water behind him? Is not just purified to before the bomb - it's pre-industrial levels of purity.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Cigarette lighters are a thing of the dim and distant past in this world, and matches are too precious to waste on a moment's tribute; but even in a world this benighted, applause is still applause, and when nearly everyone in a town called Megaton claps, you don't so much hear it as feel it.

This would be what they call a job well done.



[OOC: Thanks for the thread, guys!]