aaaaaaaagh_sky: (Zion)
[personal profile] aaaaaaaagh_sky
It's a long haul across a lot of territory if you're planning on making it through Utah. Longer if you're doing it with the deliberate intent of being as careful as possible. The place is crawling with hostile wildlife, hostile tribals, and just general hostility of every human and other living kind.

Voodoo and his companions are good at surviving hostility by this point. Not everyone is.

Like the shaven-headed fellow with all the tattoos whose neck is bent at an incredibly awkward angle, up to the side of the path ahead.

Date: 2015-10-27 01:57 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (sky blue sky)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
Seriously, that looks like it would've hurt if it hadn't been so quick.

As they pass, Voodoo holds up a hand and squats down, tilting the fellow's head back and forth. Yup, that's a broken neck.

"Not Legion," he says. "My guess is local tribal."

He pauses and looks down the trail, squinting.

"Weird he'd be all alone like this."
Edited Date: 2015-10-27 02:01 am (UTC)

Date: 2015-10-27 02:17 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (Default)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"You don't send scouts out alone unless you don't want them coming back. One is none, two is one."

A quick patdown of the dead tribal reveals a club and a pistol that, for all intents and purposes, looks like it came right from the mind of John Moses Browning.

Voodoo lets out a low whistle as he ejects the magazine and racks the slide, catching the round that flies out of the ejection port before holding it up to the light. "Where did you get a piece like this?"

It's not a question that he'll get an answer to - at least, not from this guy. And so, with a shrug, Voodoo puts the round back in the magazine before re-inserting it into the butt and racking the slide. He holds it by the barrel and turns to the group, hand outstretched.

"Any takers? He don't need it no more."

Date: 2015-10-27 02:35 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (determined look)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
Voodoo stops and listens. The canyon walls make for great acoustics - to the point where he can make out individual weapons.

"Yup, that's a furball. Josepha, behind me. We'll need that Stoner up quick."

He presses the .45 into Kate's hands and stands up, carbine up and aiming down the sight as he speedwalks towards the sound. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast - no need to get caught in a trap trying to play hero to a fight between strangers.

Date: 2015-10-27 03:25 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (shooting #2)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
It's on.

"Fawkes, Josepha, suppressing fire! Hector, Kate, with me!"

It's hectic - he can't make out exact numbers, all he knows is the bad guys outnumber the good guys right now. He moves from cover to cover as he works his way around to the flank, shoulders squared with his targets as he lines them up and knocks them down. Except he's a little too slow ducking down into cover one time, and a round grazes his cheek, eliciting a grunt from him as he drops to the deck, glove clamped over the cut.

"Fuckin' shit- asshole!"

Date: 2015-10-27 03:39 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (shooting)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
And Voodoo is back up in seconds, his carbine's sights on the lone survivor's center of mass. One-two-three-four-five shots later, and he's down, blood bubbling from his mouth as Voodoo quickly moves in, kicking the tribal's rifle away from him as he holds him at gunpoint. He forces an exhale through his nose, locking eyes with the tribal as he breathes his last.

"Report - all clear?"

Date: 2015-10-27 03:50 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (Default)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"Good."

The tribal goes limp, and Voodoo tilts his rifle, checking his magazine - half-full. Good enough for now.

"Caravan up there, bodies down here. You know the drill - look for stuff we can use. While you're at it, see if there's anything that tells us who the fuck these guys are."

Date: 2015-10-27 04:21 am (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (speak clear and speak quick)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"No shit?"

A hop, skip, and a jump over some tribal corpses later, and - yes, that is indeed a Pip-Boy.

"Hm," he says, crouching down, taking the dead dude's arm in his hand. "Gimme a sec-"

He's seen Ellen use her own often enough that going through the menus isn't quite second nature, but he doesn't look like he's got his dick stuck in his fly, either. It's pretty easy to get it to the local mapping function, and there's a yellow brick road leading from what looks like a passage into Zion to where they are now.

"They're not local color. Looks like they came from outside Zion. Doesn't say why."

A momentary glance upward lets him catch a twitch of motion ducking behind a distant rock.

"Hey! You!"

After a moment, a silhouette peeks out from behind it.

"Yeah, you, wiseass," he says, finger pointed. "Get out here - slowly."

Date: 2015-10-28 06:45 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (speak clear and speak quick)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"If you say so."

He relaxes, nodding back the way they came.

"Some dead scouts with ink and gear like yours back that way. Lose any guys lately?"

Date: 2015-10-28 06:52 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (Default)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
With a sweeping gesture to the corpses of the White Legs: "You found them."

Then, turning back to the young man:

"You got a name, dude?"

Date: 2015-10-28 07:21 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (Default)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
Voodoo shrugs. "Then we might as well come along. Lead the way."

Can't hurt to make sure these guys are on the up and up, right? And it'd be nice to secure some maps of the area if the local yokels have it.

Date: 2015-10-28 10:13 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (sky blue sky)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
The nuclear apocalypse was cruel to a lot of places. Some cities have been wiped off the face of the planet, and others have been reduced to shells of their former selves, raiders and mutants picking over their carcasses.

Zion, fortunately, has suffered none of that. The river below actually looks like it's drinkable as-is, and the only signs of warfare here are the occasional grouping of bullet holes in the rock.

"Got that right," Voodoo says, his carbine taking up the slack in its sling. "How long you been holed up here?"

Date: 2015-10-29 08:57 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (in uniform: aw shit)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
And freeze Voodoo does, hands tightening on the grips. "Do what the man says," he whispers out the side of his mouth. "We do not have the ammunition to waste."

Here's hoping that lizard's enough to fill it up, yeah? Because Voodoo doubts five-five-six ball would do much of anything to that thing.

Date: 2015-10-29 09:07 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (once more unto the breach)
From: [personal profile] boston_bruiser
"Yeah, that's what I've heard."

(Look on the bright side - they could be deathclaws. You don't know it yet, Voodoo, but they grow them extra-mean out West.)

"You were talkin' about this 'Joshua' dude?"

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