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

[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.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods rapidly. You don't leave yuk like that lying around. It could infect anything.

[aeons_crackshot]

"Very true," Annabelle agrees. "I have no idea what that might do, and I don't want to find out." She'll keep trouble away from Ellen while she's working.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen makes a point of drenching the whole sorry mass before striking a match and dropping it into the middle. The bright blue flames leap up joyfully right away. "Good riddance to bad rubbish," she mutters. "I have no idea what that thing was, but it can't have been anything good."

[aeons_crackshot]

Annabelle nods. When you have as much experience with Mad Science as she does, none of the options that come to mind are very pleasant. "I don't see any more of those things."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Oh good," says Ellen. "Then let's keep going, before any more of them show up."

It only takes a little travel along the edge of the watercourse to make it clear that it's not the Potomac, just a rather nasty pond of considerable size. Ellen grumbles to herself, but keeps moving; it's not as if the scrub and stone are going to get any less common, after all, or the blackened stumps of trees-that-were any more green.

As they start making their eventual way up a hill to get a good look at the nearby territory (Ellen's almost sure they ought to be to the marker by now), a faint tinkle of music can be heard- flutes, perhaps, or fifes.

[aeons_crackshot]

"Hold a minute," Annabelle calls out, "I think I hear music close by."

"Considering the lot you ran into last time, I don't think we can count on any people we find being friendly." Annabelle readies her shotgun, just in case.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods, readying her gun. Something silvery flashes in the distance; she squints... "Oh," she says. "Another one of those."

The fife music ("Dixie", by the sound of things) is coming from a floating metallic sphere with a grille over one end and stiff trailing wires projecting off the other. It appears to be slowly cruising back and forth over the remains of an old road.

"Some kind of robot. They're harmless, I think."

[aeons_crackshot]

"Another one? Do you know what it's doing that for?" Annabelle looks a bit puzzled.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"The last one had some kind of a recording," Ellen says. "First it played 'Hail Columbia', and then the speech started. I wonder...."

Sure enough, the music gives way and a twangy man's voice begins instead.

"Hello again, America the magnificent. This is President Eden-"

"I've never heard the name, other than on one of these robots," Ellen interjects.

"And I was hoping we could talk. Let's talk about government, shall we. Or more specifically, your government, dear America..."

[aeons_crackshot]

"He might not even be alive anymore, depending on how old these things are. It certainly doesn't seem like anyone is making sure there are people around to hear the message."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"The Enclave. Just who is the Enclave? Why, now that's simple, the Enclave is you, America-"

"That's what worries me. President Campbell was president at the time of the War, and the President before him was named Freyermuth. I've never heard of this man."

"-your friend, your, your neighbor. And well yes, the Enclave is me as well... As your president, it is my responsibility to preside over our great democracy. So, as your president, I am the voice, I am the heart, and soul of the Enclave."