The Wasteland's Finest (Zalgo vs. Kristie vs. Cryppy)

First topic message reminder :

"AWWWOOOO! Hey there, children, it's me, Three Dog! How you kids handlin' Post-Apocalyptia today?"

Welcome to theworld after the world. The remains of Washington D.C., to be exact. You and I are part of a caravan crew, roaming around the wasteland, selling our wares, which mostly are made up of weapons, ammo, clothing, Stimpacks, and random junk.

We've been like this since we were kids, best friends and all. Both of us grew up in the settlement of Megaton, where a live atomic bomb sits at the middle in a small pool of water and the walls are made of scrap metal from old airplanes and such.

We just had a big sale of recon armor and power armor for the Brotherhood of Steel and are on the way to their base of operations, the Citadel, located within the ruins of the Pentagon building. We're travelling from Girdershade, which is deep within Enclave territory. Unfortunately, the Enclave and the Brotherhood of Steel are at war. Who will we ultimately side with in this war for the Capitol Wasteland?

Key to colors:
White=text.
Indigo and brown Indicate what I'm saying.
Red is Three Dog speaking on Galaxy News Radio.
Green is John Henry Eden speaking on Enclave Radio.
Blue is random NPC's talking.
Cyan will be the character known as "The Lone Wanderer". We'll get to him later.

ooc: I think my writer's block is gone. And I'm getting antsy again thanks to playing New Vegas far too much to be considered healthy. Perhaps a year and a half is enough time to keep you waiting, yes?

ic:

"No destination, unless you wanna find one." Zalgo chuckled out. "Although there was a minor... Complication involving Harry. We have to take him with us when we leave in the morning." He took a sip from the beer she hated, a cocky half smile on his face as he patted the 10mm Pistol on his hip. "I know you're gonna be pissed about that, but remember one thing; We have more firepower than he does, and we won't hesitate to take out some two-bit Vault punk who probably thought the sun was a giant light bulb in the sky should he cross us, right?" A glint of cockiness showed in his visible eye as he poured some of the whiskey into the beer bottle and swirled it around to mix the two. He preferred mixed drinks to any straight drink any day of the week.

"But yeah, he's currently tied up in the room I rented for the three of us. The plus side is the price went down at the Weatherly Hotel. The minus side is that we'll have to do the whole good cop/bad cop routine with him when I've finished drinking and you're done getting piss drunk." Zalgo said, eyeing the fluid level in Kristie's bottle of Absinthe with his usual half-smile.

OOC - How I missed this.

I kept quiet until he finished.. Drinking rather quickly and continuously until he did so. I swallowed another gulp and set the bottle down, not looking at him. Of course I'm bloody pissed, what purpose that little shit serve by being alive? His story about his father is probably what he says to anyone who wants to shove a gun up ass till he spits bullets and blood. Well I don’t care about his little cover story, even if it is true, which it fucking isn’t. Let’s face it, if the world went back to normal, Zalgo and I would be out a job! And I have no complaints about my life. I can kill just about anything and I get paid to do it, why would I want things to change? If they did it wouldn’t be during our life time, so why do we need to give a shit? Our lifestyle is about survival, and this little Harry shit that wandered into our lives is putting a dent on my live to see 45 plan.

“Well, you’re right about thing, and wrong about two. You’re right I’m getting piss drunk, because without so I’m likely to kill fucker. And I do not expect to remember how to walk by the end of this bottle. You’re wrong though, about the good cop/bad thing being a minus; interrogations are the best ways to get information from people. Mostly because 7 times out of 10 I get to kill someone or severely hurt them. You’re also wrong about how 'we won’t hesitate to take' him out. YOU’RE not getting near him with so much as a spoon. If his brains are going to get blown, it’s going to be by me. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll make it somewhat quick. He’ll feel it for 5, maybe 10 seconds at most. ” I took another sip, holding it in my mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. Taste like piss flavoured candy, my favourite.

“But enough about him.. Like you said, he’s locked up. He won’t do any damage for the time being, and you and I have some much needed rewards to indulge in. So, here’s to.. Not being dead.” I raised my bottle and took another gulp, setting it back down and spinning around in my chair, facing away from the bar. Christ.. it’s true you don’t feel jack until you move, even the slightest bit. “Yet.”

Zalgo nods, clinking his bottle to hers before taking a sip of the beer-whiskey combination. He hated the taste of alcohol, but the burn reminded him that he was still human, no matter what his eye and arm told him. "To living it is, then." He said under his breath.

In the corner of the Muddy Rudder, a radio was turned on, the final few seconds of Easy Living, performed by Billie Holiday, playing through before the radio switched over to Three Dog.

"Hey everybody, this is Three Dog, your friendly neighborhood disc jockey. What's a disc? Hell if I know, but I'm gonna keep talking anyway. All right, Three Dog has heard about some crazy things going on out there in the Capital Wasteland, but this one just might beat them all. I've been getting some scattered reports that a couple of costumed kooks have been battling for control of the settlement called Canterbury Commons. One of these wackos seems to be assisted by robots, and the other by mutated bugs. Every day, it's seems to be the same nutty scene: with the scuffles ending in a stalemate. So if your travels take you to Canterbury Commons, keep your head down and your assault rifle loaded for crazy. Now, back to the music."

And after that, smooth jazz started playing on the radio. Zalgo took another sip from his beer-whiskey, poured a little more whiskey into the combination, swirled the two together, then chugged the whole thing down. "GAH. Damn, that hurts."

“I don’t know how you drink beer, it tastes like fermented ant piss, even with whiskey mixed in.” I would say it tasted radiated, but what doesn’t today?

I caught word of the radio and what news Three Dogs had for us today, slowly spinning back around to face it and listen a little closer. I set the bottle down and slid it over to the side while I waited for the announcement to finish and the dull music to come back on. I use to like the stuff Three Dog played, up until the 42nd time I heard it. Now I prefer the silence.

“So, a bunch of ‘wackos’ want to dominate and conquer the Canterbury Commons. No doubt another bunch of arrogant punks who found big weapons and a couple of robots and not think they’re top shit… Sounds, interesting actually,” I said with enthusiasm. “Y’know, compared to the other dribble going on in the desert on a regular bases.” I feel bad thinking about the inhabitants of Canterbury Commons, sort of. It’s always sad to see a settlement go, but there’s always someone wanting power. Control. And once they have that, they want more control. I wouldn’t mind some myself actually.. The fact these guys seem to have robots helping them is what I find interesting.

“So, once we get whatever information we need from the shit head, what are we going to do with him? I would make a suggestion but they all lead the general same place.”

Zalgo turned to her, a rare serious expression on his face. "Yeah, yeah, you want him dead, but think of any consequences. He dies, his father may come after us, whoever his father is. And who knows, maybe he's more valuable alive." Zalgo cracked a small smile. "We could do to him what he did to Brian! Make some caps off the fucker."

Zalgo spun on his chair so he was facing the door to the Muddy Rudder. He saw Sister again, a shiver going through his spine. Seriously, that man seemed like bad news.

"Anyway, let's not dwell on his fate right now. We'll ask him when you're ready to get outta this place and head to the room." He said rocking his head from side to side a bit to crack his neck.

His fate is something I’ve been wait to knock out of existence. Why do I give a fuck about who his father is? Maybe he shouldn’t have raised such a clueless twat of a son who doesn’t seem to know up from down. Or when you’re handing someone off to slavery or not. I don’t want to sell him and give him the luxury of never have me as a nightmare anymore. “We don’t need the caps. And since when have you ever gave a shit about the connections of the people we fuck with?” I said slowly, hesitating on some of the words, and failing to complete a few. He knew what I was trying to say and the hostility in it. I was pissed. Furious. Not necessarily at him, but at the entire situation to begin with. I’m also going to go with the alcohol.. A lot of alcohol, in my system wasn’t helping my moods any.

I stood up from the bar, leaving the bottle on the table with still a few more mouth fulls left in it. The extent of how much I drank visible in my ability, or should I say lack of, to stand and walk. “Booze is done, and so is my tolerance level. I think it’s time we joined our friend in the room.” I reached into my belt and unhooked my shotgun, it now dangling in my hands. “What room are we in again?” I slurred out, just before walking away and heading towards the doors to leave the Market.

I could tell the image of something walking through with a loaded shotgun, and not looking very friendly, was causing a bit of nerves.. Surprisingly. God you’d think this was their first day in the Wasteland. Compared to some of the stuff out there and some of the people that walk through? I'm as harmless as a kitten. “Kristie, you’re upsetting some of the-“ just as he reached out to grab my arm and stop me from walking, I spun around with the shotgun aimed right at the family jewels. “Harkness.. How often do we come here? How well do you know me? If I wanted to kill someone where, I’d of fucking done it by now. So I’m going to lower my gun, and you’re going to let me peacefully walk out of this place so I can do to my room.” I said brightly, lowering the shotgun away from him. “I should put you in a cell for pointing a weapon at me.” He said firmly, not in a tone that showed he was actually going to do it. “You know I would never pull the trigger, I like you far too much Harkness. One of the few useful beings I’ve come across in this Wasteland.”

Zalgo sighed, standing up and following after Kristie. He handed Harkness 10 caps, apologizing for her behavior before jogging up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder, and speaking.

"Kristie, I know how mad and drunk you are, but please, stop pointing weapons at the people who protect the place from raiders and Enclave. Especially when the one you're mad at is me." His voice was altogether level, but there was a light undertone of disappointment in there. He really didn't like her flashing her weapons at guards, and the drinking made her ornery. He knew he'd have to stop her from just blowing Harry's brains out as soon as they got in the room, otherwise they'd never get any information.

I smiled, almost laughed at Zalgo cleaning up my mess and making peace with Harkness… Always trying to take care of me. “Well we both know I can’t point the gun at you Zalgo, you’d ground me and take away my guns.” I said with a not so subtle sarcastic tone, and shook off his hand from my shoulder. I put my gun back in it’s place on my belt and turned to face him for the moment. “I mean, unless total and utter control of me wasn’t your goal?" Stopping, I noticed what I’m going to exaggerate as the entire room staring at our argument. A million little eyes that can’t just mind their own damn business. The gun is put away, what more are they looking at? God knows at least one of the guards has a rifle aimed at my head by now.

“I'm not going to exterminate the pest, okay? Happy? Now, pretend to escort the angry drunk girl out of here with a smile on both our faces so every can stop shitting themselves.”

"Now, control is a nasty word. I prefer the term..." He half-smiled at her before saying the final word. "Guide you along." Zalgo let out a short laugh, walking about 3 paces past her before turning to make sure she was following. "And I'm glad to hear you still have some sense after drinking down that Green Fairy. Nice to know your tolerance has gone up since last time."

“I said I won’t exterminate the pest, I never said I wouldn’t hurt it if it takes more than 3 seconds to comply with any request. And since, as you say.. aren’t controlling me, then you won’t have any objections to that.” In a fast pace walk, I passed him and up the stairs to the door exiting to the rest of the ship with a neutral look to my face. “The Green Fairy does many things. Fucks up my aim, helps me to fall on my face at least one, gets me a little pissed and sometimes violent.. But never do I lose my sense. Now, two Green Fairies? Two and the asshole in the far corner who’s had the gun pointed at my forehead for 10 minutes might be remotely attractive.” I smiled back at him, and opened the door to the ship. “Now, what room are we in again?”

Zalgo shook his head, smiling to himself. She was determined to cause this kid pain, wasn't she? While he didn't always condone her violent nature, he couldn't help but enjoy her presence all the same.

"Back room. It was the only one available at the time. A queen-size bed, some cabinets, the usual. Left Harry tied up in the corner of the room, he's most likely still there unless he managed to fall over and start rolling around like an idiot." Zalgo shrugged at that last statement. "That'd probably be kind of funny to watch, actually."

“Hopefully he did. Makes it easy to step on the bug that way.” I replied as I left the market place and Zalgo and I made our way over to where we’d be staying. Ship’s like a fucking maze the first time around, but if you spend enough time here you get the hang of things and might walk away with only getting lost once. I know I haven’t been able to memorize 100% where everything is, just most places. Places we visit the most when we come here.

“Come on, give up the keys. I want to see the pest first, so he shits his pants before we – well, you question him. And if he doesn’t shit his pants.. Then clearly I have some intimidating to do.”

"Fine, but don't break him." Zalgo said, tossing a keychain with about 6 keys on it to her. They all had small strips of tape on them telling where they went, and at least 2 of them were stolen "by accident". One of those stolen ones was the Weatherly Hotel master key, while the other belonged to Moriarty back in Megaton before Zalgo swiped it from his desk when he wasn't looking about 4 months prior. He didn't like having his key go missing, so he hit Gob harder than he usually did, which Zalgo apologized profusely for. Still, didn't give the key back. Figured it'd be useful.

“Only parts of him. I may not know a lot about the body, but I know that you can cut off all your fingers and still live. Most of the time…” I said with too large a grin on my face. I'm sure most people can agree with me when I say the pain of those we hate brings a unique pleasure that you just want to feel over and over again.

Catching the keys, I unlocked the door to our room expecting to see the cowering Hairy tied up in a panic. Instead, what did I find? A surprisingly fresh smelling room with a bed made with sheets that seemed to actually of been washed recently. The walls, floors and ceilings were in their usual roughed up falling the fuck a part state in all shades of brown. A burgundy and grey rug on the floor that I don’t think they ever had in their rooms before.. At least not that I can recall. But this wasn’t what got me. What made me stand still when I opened the door was the site of that little prick passed out. Dead to the world asleep. HOW THE HELL does a hostage fall asleep? This kid really is as brain dead as we thought.

“I swear to God it has the IQ of a coffee table.”

Zalgo stepped into the room, taking a deep breath in. "No dismemberment either. We're good guests and don't wanna stain the floor with blood. That'd be impolite."

He looked down at Harry, still bound. And snoring. "Well, at least he didn't try to escape. Probably knew we'd hurt him even worse if he did. Maybe there's still hope for him." Zalgo sits on the bed, looking down at the kid. Harry couldn't be any older than 19, if that. "You wanna wake him or should I?"

Zago cringed at the sound of Kristie's magnum smacking Harry. "Alrighty, then, enough of that. I still have questions for the kid." Zalgo bent down to look Harry in the eye. The fear was written all over the kid's face, as though his eyes were asking what his mind was thinking. "Are these guys gonna kill me? Will I never see my father again? They helped me, now they hurt me. Is that how the Wasteland works?" Some of the more complex simple questions in the world.


"I have 3 questions for you, then, depending on the answers I get and how satisfactory they are, I'll either let you go, help you find your father, or let Kristie have her way with you. Do you understand these terms, Harry?" Zalgo said calmly.


Harry nodded, saying "Okay, Zalgo. I'll cooperate."

"Good! First question, how can your father help the wastes if you've both lived in the Vault your entire life?" Zalgo asked.


"Well, I'm not entirely sure, but according to Three Dog, he's helping to fight the Good Fight. He wasn't sure on the details, but he told me he skedaddled off to Rivet City when he was done with Three Dog." Harry answered.

So what he’s saying is.. his father told him he was Superman, but the twat has never actually seen him fly or do anything.. Super. This kid gets more brain dead pathetic with every word that comes out of his mouth.

I stood up from the bed, walked over to the deep red, filthy looking chair that sat across from it on the other side of the room. It had a skirt ‘round the bottom to cover legs. I turned it around so the backside facing the wall was now facing me. With my knife now in hand, I knelt down and made a small cut about an inch or two up from the bottom of the skirt. I grabbed the piece of fabric I had just slit and pulled back so the fabric ripped in a long straight line, giving me a strong, thick piece of fabric. “They won’t miss this.” I said, turning the chair back to the way it was hiding the piece now missing from the skirt.

I turned back towards the two of them, and Hairy’s had a look of confusion on his face. “Oh, don’t mind me. This is to make sure you don’t scream when I kill you for the bullshit answer you just gave Zalgo.” I said with a creepy smile that would send shivers down anyone’s back. “Carry on.”

Harry stared at Kristie, eyes showing fear and not much else. "No, I mean it! That's what Three Dog told me! He said to come here and look for someone named Madison Li and that she'd help me find my dad! I'm not trying to bullshit either of you, I promise!"

Zalgo smirked a little. "Hmm, I dunno. Kristie, y'think he'd lie to us considering his current position?" Harry shook his head violently, saying "I wouldn't, I promise, please don't hurt me."

Best way to make sure someone is telling the truth. Don’t threaten their own life, because they may be willing to give that up to protect the truth. Even if you’re bluffing – Which, 99.9% of the time, I'm not. “There is one good way to make sure, isn’t there?” I walked towards him, twirling the piece of fabric in my hands. I knelt down beside Zalgo so I could look Harry in the eyes.

“Although I'm skeptical about you’re story, I know you have a father out there, and I know you care about him. So, I’m going to rewrite our previous conditions. You answer, and I won’t sell you to the highest bidder with the biggest fetish for young boys.. Whom I will probably kill anyways, but I’ll give him at least a week. You answer truthfully, and eventually we will know if it’s the truth or not, and I won’t beat your father’s brains out with a baseball bat. I promise. Deal? Good.” I gave him one more moment of that creepy smile, and stood back up making my way to sit down on the bed again.

“Now, you can continue.” I gestured to Zalgo.

Zalgo nodded. "Question one's answer is... Satisfactory, Harry," he said, looking down at the boy. "But that still leaves two questions."

Harry gulped in fear, nodding in understanding. Zalgo let a half-smile escape his lips, asking "Second question, how'd you get that suit from Moira? She kept it in the back of her shop, I know that much, but I want to know how it came into your possession."

"Oh, right, I'm helping her with her project. Totally forgot about that, I'm supposed to be heading up to Minefield to check it out and possibly get her a landmine. Thanks for reminding me!" Harry replied, seemingly forgetting he was tied up and being interrogated. "I already got irradiated as hell for her and checked out the Super Duper Mart near Megaton for food and medicine, which was a deathtrap thanks to Raiders. Still, she seems nice."

"That doesn't answer my question, Harry. How'd you get the suit?" Zalgo repeated, fingering the hilt of his Shishkebab.

"Oh, shit, right, sorry, got sidetracked. She gave it to me for helping her write the forward to her Wasteland Survival Guide. Said it was a gift. Gave me a food sanitizer after getting medicine from the Super Duper Mart, too, and it feels like she accidentally mutated me with the radiation part, but she said it was benign." He shrugged as best he could while bound. "I'unno, hopefully it's not cancer. That'd kinda suck, y'know?"

“Okay Hairy. Tell me this, how did you make it into the Super Duper Mart to get supplies, and fucking live?” I asked, with a tone that said I wanted a damn good fucking answer. The raiders there are demonic, and even that is an understatement. One can easily be put down, maybe even three because they’re pretty fucking stupid. But that place has a God damn pack of Raiders. If one dies they bring in four more and keep that place locked up tight. Even I’m not that comfortable going near there, and this fuck manages to get supplies, in and out with no issue?

“You’re past actions lead me to believe you’re pretty fucking stupid and clueless to the world out there, so I’m going to guess you had no idea it was Raider territory. So to be a little extra.. Sneaky wouldn’t have clued in. So, how’d you manager to live? Go.”

"Pistol, 3 of these explosive lunchbox things I found, and I found a robot in the back that just needed reactivating." Harry replied, shrugging. "They weren't that smart, really." Zalgo shakes his head, a light chuckle escaping him.

"Alright, in that case, we'll head to Megaton when we're done here to confirm that with Moira." He said. "And if we find out you're lying to us..." He turned his eyes towards Kristie. "Well, let's just hope for your sake that you're telling the truth, alright?" Harry gulped, frightened by the threat.

"Now, let's just move on to the last question, yes? You wish to survive, and you obviously have some skills of some sort, so what you need to do is answer this with a completely satisfactory answer, do you understand me?"

"I got you, Zalgo. W-what's your question?" Harry said, trembling.

Zalgo turned towards Kristie and flashed a smile and quickly closed and reopened his eye, winking. His eyepatch made it look like blinking, but, y'know, he tried. "Alright, I got the perfect question then." He turned back to the man tied up on the ground, pulled his Shishkebab out. "How..." He bends down and puts the blade to Harry's back and sliced the ropes. "...can we help you get Brian out of slavery?" He says with a smile as Harry continues lying on the ground, blinking rapidly to try to understand what he just heard.

God I hope he’s lying. Part of me REALLY hopes he’s lying. Or is telling enough of a small lie to justify me beating him to an inch from death and not getting scolded by Zalgo for it. Maybe I’ll get to shoot him in the arm.. I mean, he’ll live. I think..

“Can’t we just trade him for Brian? I’m sure it’d be an easy enough of a process.. To most people that actually buy slaves theyre only requirement is that the person needs to be able to walk, lift, and, well. Bend over.” I said with a wink towards Harry. I’m not being serious of course.. But he doesn’t know that. And that’s the whole idea – keep him scared shitless and on toes about what ‘might’ happen and he’ll be less of a fucking pain in my ass. However, getting him scared enough miiiiiight just cause him to snap.. Maybe he’d even take a swing at me. Wouldn’t that just be the fucking day. I could kill him, claim self-defence to Zalgo and we can get on with our almost useful lives. I can’t help but smile at the thought of it all.

“Then again..” I started, walking towards Harry and grabbing him by the jaw, shifting his head back and forth to see either sides of his face. I let go and sat back down on the bed, gun still in hand, “He might be too ugly.” I said with a sigh. Looking at him, he just stared at me wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now. “I’m pretty sure you were asked a question.. Answer it, now. Or I get my way, and I can remove your tongue all together.”