Craterside Supply

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

When Ellen opens the door again, it leads back into Megaton, which is as dusty and cow-smelling as ever. "This way," she says, picking her way first down the stairs cut into the side of the crater, then up a winding walkway that leads over a shack with a two-headed cow out front. "That's the town clinic, by the way. Not that I've been in there yet, but that's where I was headed when I found myself at the Bar."

Comments

[aeons_crackshot]

"I see." There is nothing at all of warmth or kindness in Annabelle's voice or expression.

"Are there likely to be any of them still living in the area?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I don't know," says Ellen. "I think I got them all, though. I wound up in the ant tunnels before I got to Milliways, and when I went back I had to go through the school again to reach the surface... nobody came after me, so I think I got all the ones in the school. Doc Hoff and his guard didn't seem too worried when I ran into them, though."

Beyond the town the towers of what used to be an elevated highway rise, the vast majority of the roadway long since fallen in chunks along the ground. The ground slopes upward to the left; Ellen checks her compass and notes, "We're on the right track, although-"

There's an angry hnf, hnf noise, and the dry yellow grasses that grow from between the local rocks start rustling. Ellen reaches for her shotgun immediately.

[aeons_crackshot]

Demyx gift is with music, Annabelle's is with weapons. Far faster than most people would believe possible, Annabelle has taken aim and fired the shotgun with uncanny precision at the noise.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen would be staring at the explosively decapitated mole rat, if it weren't for the fact that it wasn't alone. The other beagle-sized rodent veers off from the gunshot and lunges at Ellen. Fortunately, while she can't plug it in the head the way Annabelle can, a shotgun blast to the suddenly-bared abdomen is a good deal more than even these mutant creatures have evolved to deal with.

[aeons_crackshot]

"Are you all right?"

"Odd behavior for something that looks like a rat," Annabelle remarks. "I wonder if they were protecting their nest or just very hungry?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen's panting, but she pats herself down. "I think so," she says. "It didn't get close enough to bite... I figured they were territorial when I saw the teeth. I mean, those are incisors, aren't they? Like humans have? Not fangs?"

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle peers at the head of Ellen's rat. Her own rat doesn't exactly have enough head left to take a look at the teeth. "Yep, no fangs. That likely means there's more of those things somewhere nearby."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen winces, and glances over her shoulder. Then, very quickly, she glances up. They're underneath the roadway. That's good. Roadway is good. Roadway is in sight. Roadway is almost like ceiling, right? She's good, she can do this, she's good....

[aeons_crackshot]

"Ellen?" Annabelle asks, concerned. "Just concentrate on your breathing for a few moments. Take a slow, deep breath and let it out."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

She's still holding onto her shotgun, or she'd be covering her face in her hands. It takes her a moment to realize Annabelle's speaking to her, because, well, the roadway is huge and far away and she can't even see Megaton from here and... yeah.

But eventually she swallows and takes a long, long breath.

[aeons_crackshot]

For Annabelle, weapons are something of a security blanket, so she's not going to remark on the shotgun.

"There you go. Just take long slow breaths and concentrate on slowing down your heart beat for a few minutes."

Annabelle smiles at Ellen, "At least you're unlikely to accidentally set me on fire when you get upset."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods rapidly. "Sorry," she manages. "It keeps sneaking up on me like that."

There's a pause.

".... fire?"

[aeons_crackshot]

"I'm not surprised. While you're doing something else your mind doesn't have the chance to focus on the fact that you're outside."

"Some people in my own world found themselves suddenly gifted with strange abilities, such as creating fire. They would often end up using their abilities without meaning to when surprised or stressed. One young man ended up setting my jacket on fire while I was wearing it."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Like in the Drake Tungsten comics," says Ellen, who's working on breathing. "When he went to the year Three Thousand Ten and found Odd John's Island."

[aeons_crackshot]

"I'm not familiar with that specific story, but I suspect that you're right. It was a terrible shock for a lot of them, finding out that the world was so drastically different from what they thought they knew."

Annabelle sighs, "I wish Whitley were here, he was the one who ended up helping them, more often than not."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I'll be all right," Ellen finally says. "I just need to not think about it for a while... we should probably keep going."

[OOC: As opposed to me in RL, who needs to stop for the night?]

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle nods, "All right."

(OOC: Me too. I'm amazed that I'm not horribly butchering the English language at this hour.)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

It's amazing how much effort it takes to step out from under the questionable shelter of the crumbling roadbed, but Ellen manages eventually through sheer force of will. If she just keeps telling herself it's not that bad, it's not anything to worry about, people go outside all the time she-

"Is that... barking?" she asks, suddenly stopping and looking up. "Are those dogs?"

She's looking at a spot considerably downslope, near the edge of what's probably the local branch of the Potomac. There are two or three horribly skinny mongrel dogs there, growling and snapping at one another and at something that buzzes and dives at their kill. The ... flying thing ... is at least the size of the dogs' heads, possibly larger, for all that it resembles an ordinary housefly and is a good twenty yards away.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle has never seen any entertainment media set in a Post Apocalyptic setting. Thanks to Ellen, if she ever does, she will expect giant bugs.

"Those are dogs, but what is that thing? Do you want to shoot it, or shall I?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I'm used to killing bugs," says Ellen, who reaches for her pistol rather than the shotgun. "Radroaches can't fly, but they skitter pretty quickly, so-"

The bug thing screeches as Ellen's first bullet grazes its side, and fires something vile and brown back in response. But only one dose of it, because it goes down on the third gunshot... right about the point when the dogs start growling and circling as if they expect the intruders to come after their kill.

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle watches where the vile and brown substance landed to see if it's acidic, or dangerous in some other way. "Easy boys," she says soothingly to the dogs, "we're not after your dinner."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Not acidic, no. Writhing, now, that's another story.

Ellen watches the dogs with wide eyes, her pistol still in hand. "Do you know how to handle them?" she murmurs. "We didn't have dogs in the Vault."

[aeons_crackshot]

"Whatever that thing spit at you is writhing," Annabelle warns.

"I've been around dogs before. They're not likely to attack us unless we present ourselves as a threat. So long as we don't approach them or their dinner they should leave us alone."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Eeeeew." Ellen stares at the mass for a moment. "Um. Can you make sure those dogs don't come too close? I brought some alcohol in case the antiseptic ran out."

[aeons_crackshot]

"I can keep an eye on the dogs," Annabelle assures Ellen. "Planning on setting it on fire?" That's what Annabelle would do.