Voodoo - Bala

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

From Valley Forge to the region where Philadelphia's outskirts might be expected to begin was a decent journey. Nothing too long or too arduous, except for a few detours around this or that environmental hazard. There's a cluster of junk in the distance that might be city ruins, or might be deliberately reared walls- hard to say.

There is also a sign. It is yellow. The figure painted is a low-slung, four-legged, blunt-nosed creature of considerable girth. Its lone head is easily half as long as the thing's body, its jaws gaping ridiculously wide. The image only shows four thick fangs as far as teeth go, two to each jaw. Under its stubby-toed feet is lettered a single word: BEWARE.

Voodoo probably has a better chance of recognizing the damn thing than anyone else here.

Comments

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Gotcha," says Josepha. "Oooh, plasma grenades..."

Kate and Al, meanwhile, have been busy; Kate's haggling over the price of jerrycans in Nuka-Cola caps, and Al's examining several boots with a skeptical eye.

[boston_bruiser]

Both get quick glances and the same instruction:

"If they don't have holes in 'em and they'll fit on our packs, just make sure they're not asking for a firstborn. You got thirty seconds 'fore we're done."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Please," says an affronted vendor who's overheard the comment. "This isn't the Pitt."

[boston_bruiser]

And the vendor is, in turn, subjected to the most exasperated sigh and eye-roll Voodoo can muster on what little sleep he's running on. "Figure of speech, pal."

(What happened with that kid, anyway? Something to ask Ellen when they're in D.C.)