Tunnel Town

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

It's been close to two days now since Ellen, Voodoo, and Dogmeat came through the door to track down the people who carried off Dave. The trail's taken them to the ruins of what was once Interstate 70, and they've been on the road very nearly the whole time. Ellen's been trying hard not to think about the fact that, within her world, this is the farthest she's ever been from anything she's ever known- and getting farther all the time.

At least, she thinks, they're coming up on what the man who ran the travelers' rest said was the slavers' likely destination. The ruins of some ancient road sign are promising a tunnel up ahead, although which tunnel and how far is hard to make out, given the state of the paint.

Comments

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen's got her microfusion cells and the Gauss rifle and the Shishkebab; she's good. Time to head on down and see what's going on.

Commerce, mostly, by the sound of things as they approach. It's hard to mistake the sound of bargaining going on, or the gestures involved, or- oh, somebody's started a fistfight, that's going to make a mess...

Not that the spike-haired, dark-eyed woman perched on one end of the barricade seems to care. "Welcome to Tunneltown an' all that," she says dryly. "State yinz business."

[boston_bruiser]

"Looking for someone. Slaver crew with a bald middle-age white guy."

What? Nobody said you had to be subtle here.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman thinks for a minute, rubbing at her nose. "Been two or three of those this week," she says. "There's assloads of orders coming from back Pitt way. Make it worth my while, I might even point you at the most recent'uns."

Ellen doesn't say a word, but turns her back to the woman briefly. Voodoo is the only person in position to see her doing something complicated with what looks like a deck of cards.

And to, shortly thereafter, be handed a fistful of flattened bottlecaps.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo approves. Somewhat. He's never been fond of bribing information out of people (it costs real money over the long term), but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

"I ain't getting younger, Bonnie Parker. Point 'em out."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen's not much fond of it either, but it got her the first lead on her father's location oh so long ago, and it kept her from having to do work for the town saloon's sleazeball owner to get that lead, so she doesn't mind it so much.

As far as the spike-haired woman goes, all she cares about is the caps. After a quick glancing count she jerks her head towards the tunnel and says, "Tall woman with real dark skin, blue jacket, leather pants. Two guys with all the charm of a couple of starving ghouls and faces like their folks were brother and sister. Some blond jagoff with one eye an' a mohawk. Can't miss 'em."

[boston_bruiser]

"What're they packing?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman starts to make a hopeful gesture, but Ellen glares at her; there will be, it seems, no further payments today. Subsiding, the woman says, "One flamer, couple of assault rifles, one hell of a shotgun. And they all got Rippers, too."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo grunts and stares at the Tunneltown market. It's a maze of shops and decay, just cluttered enough to make lots of good hiding places.

"Place this crowded, we might be able to sneak up on them. Use the shops for concealment, work our way towards 'em, flank 'em, and waste 'em before they know what the fuck's going on."

He purses his lip. "Could be some collateral damage, with all the shops and civvies around."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"If we could either lure them out or find some way to herd them further into the tunnel..." Ellen glances down at Dogmeat. "He's good at chasing things. We may be able to keep them away from hurting people."

[boston_bruiser]

"One of us could pretend to be a buyer 'n bring 'em out here. If BP doesn't blow our cover."

He pauses to think. "Don't know how the fuck we can herd 'em down the tunnel, but whatever we do, we gotta surprise the fuck outta 'em. I don't like the idea of giving 'em time to draw any of that heat on us. 'specially not that flamer, if it's what I think it is."

The Rippers don't sound particularly pleasant, either.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"It's a combat flamethrower. Probably one with only a few yards' range. There's longer range ones but they're more like mortars that fire incendiary fuel balls that ignite in midair, and they're not very common outside of Enclave Hellfire units."

She's seen plenty of those before now.

"Rippers are chain-edged blades, essentially- sharp-linked, moving chains with a small motor in the handle. They chew right through most light armor or animal hide or bone. Unpleasant stuff. Best way to handle those is to take down the person wielding one at a distance... anyway, it wouldn't be the first time I had somebody pass themselves off as a slave buyer to get somebody back. Did you want to, or should I? I doubt I have a reputation here."

[boston_bruiser]

"I'll do it. I probably got height and weight on them. Might discourage them from doin' stupid shit."

Might. Probably not.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods. "I don't have a reputation here," she admits. "Here- this is my cap supply, in case you have to flash any money for this..."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo takes the caps and tucks them into a pants pocket. "I'll bring 'em out here. Get into a position where you can see the deal going down, preferably up high. If you see Dave, key your radio twice. My freq's one-one-two-point-six. If we can't buy 'em back or if the deal looks like it's going south, I'll key my radio once and we'll waste 'em. Flamer guy's your primary. I'll take care of shotgun guy, and we'll see where it goes from there. Questions?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"None whatsoever," Ellen says, and then, "Come on, Dogmeat. This isn't where we want to be any more."

The stealth field won't hide Dogmeat, but she's hoping to tuck him away out of sight somewhere in the landscape instead.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo walks into the market, making his way through the crowds of hagglers and the two unconscious bodies the fistfight's left drooling on the pavement, occasionally shoving off a wannabe pickpocket.

He's near the back of the market when the blond mohawk catches his eye - you couldn't miss that if you tried. He walks closer, and the whole crew comes into view - the inbred twins, the dark-skinned woman, and the one-eyed jagoff, along with some beaten-looking slaves in rags behind them. He clears his throat, and they turn to look at him.

"You lookin' to sell some merch?" he says, jiggling the bag of caps for effect.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman comes to her feet. "Most of these're goin' back west," she says, "but I don't mind lightening the load some. If the cash is right, anyways. What're you looking for?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Middle-aged guy," Voodoo says. "We need a housekeeper but I don't want him porkin' my wife."

He looks around. "You mind if we take this outside town? I don't like all these pryin' ears 'round here."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

One side of the woman's mouth quirks up, and she makes a sound that might be a snort but might be a laugh. "Yeah, we got that," she says. "Come on. Lazlo, Hoder, round 'em up, let's get this crew some sunshine."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo turns and leads them back out through the market, stepping over the three unconscious bodies now drooling on the asphalt - the fistfight's spreading, but it's not a problem. For him, anyway. Right now, all that matters is getting these people out in the open, and that's halfway done.

It's not long before they're outside Tunneltown. Voodoo turns and lets the M60 hang by his side. "So. Show me what y'got."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman gestures with one hand; behind her, the one-eyed blond man starts goading the ragged-clad slaves forward. Most of them are young, and were healthy relatively recently- probably before they got those big, clunky collars slapped on. A good few of them are older, though, and they give the impression of being more reluctant than the rest- a problem swiftly resolved by the slope-headed twins, who were apparently carrying police batons under their clothes somewhere.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo nods and starts appraising the slaves - most of them look old enough to be his dad. He walks the line, checking for bruises, cuts, or signs of infection, occasionally checking their teeth.

"What's your price?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Neither the woman nor the men near her show any sign that Voodoo's inspection is anything unusual, although one of the older slaves he examines- a bruised, leathery-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair- flinches fearfully. The woman ignores this, shrugs. "For this bunch? They're all in working condition. Thousand caps, no questions asked."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo snorts. "If you're gonna tell a joke, make it funny. I take these guys with me right now, they won't last a day. Five hundred caps, max."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Eight hundred." The woman shifts her shoulders. "I sold worse for better before you got here, but I'll travel faster with some of these off my hands.

The man with the salt-and-pepper hair draws breath as if to speak. One-eye spots this and apparently doesn't like the idea; he holds out a hand and one of the twins reflexively hands him a baton. The only sound that escapes the bruised man is a sudden yelp of pain as One-eye strikes him across the back.