ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Nemo A shared bottle of moonshine, and two more jet inhalers later, Nemo and Surelda have crossed town towards Pecos River. Navigating the fortified wasteland, Booker leads his 'captive' to a vault door for an underground bunker, punching in the code quickly. Steel doors slide away, revealing a room full of machinery, and some other doors. Multiple sleeping bags litter the ground. "Good! No one's here!"

Throughout last night, it seemed as if Nemo Booker might wind down. His words were becoming slurred, his attention waning, and his movements jerky and awkward. All it took was a hit of Jet this morning and he was back, shouting at Surelda, El Dorado, a cat that was in the garbage. Still, his condition is worsening, and as he waves Surelda into the bunker with his gun, he wipes away a trickle of blood from his nose. "C'mon, let's get inside." He peeks out, warily scanning the wasteland, before shutting the door via control.

Rounding on Surelda, Nemo flashes a smug grin, "Alright, lil darlin', gather up the old inhalers in one spot. We're either making more, or stealing more. Even if I have to kill a bitch." Nemo replaces his hat, moving to stand beside Surelda. He tosses some empty inhalers onto someone's sleeping bag, then says, to Surelda, softly, "He's tiring out. If he lets his guard down, we can kill him and escape." His green eyes lock onto hers, weariness and concern adding crow's feet to his eyes.
Elsie Poor Surelda doesn't know what to think. Some sort of dual personality thing? Just a rage high? It could be a lot of things. Anything. Nothing. She's really not smart enough to figure out what's happening in that genius-level brain that Nemo's sporting. So, for now, she just goes along with it; she's shoved into the bunker and she goes rather willingly. Her style, thus far, has been 'Be As Accomodating As Possible, Keep Him Happy So He Won't Shoot You.' So far, that's going ... relatively okay. Relative to a bullet in the brain.

So when Nemo peers out from Booker's face, and talks about killing? She just meets his gaze. Even if Nemo's in there, in a moment, Booker will be back. "Alright, sugar," she says, though to Nemo or Booker, that's anyone's guess. She turns away, bending down to start collecting the empty inhalers. Then she pauses, looking up over her shoulder. "I still got all that Calmex, and some Daddy-O and Daytripper in my bag. We can get more Jet, but why don't we mix up the party a little first? Have some fun with everything?" She gives him a smile. For now, she's still wearing her cloak and her blue dress, her leg still bandaged, boots still on her feet.
Nemo With Surelda bending over, Booker lets his gaze run up Surelda's legs to study her blue dress and cloak, before looking to her face, brows lifting, "Hmm? Mix up the party, huh. I knew I liked you," he says, pointing the revolver at her. He bobs his head, relaxing against the wall beside a large toolbox, "Yeah, break it all out. I'm tired of measurin' my drugs by the microgram. /I/ make 'em, so what if there's not enough for everyone. Fuck those people," He laughs, tossing a gesture towards the direction of El Dorado.

He pushes away from the wall, fidgeting anxiously, "I need more time, though... I need more time." He glances towards the auto-doc, thoughtfully, then slowly over the room, before his curious gaze returns to Surelda. "What happened to your leg, Miss Sully?" He sets his steel revolver atop the dusty old toolbox, to point to her bandage.
Elsie "Well, addicts are somethin' of birds of a feather, ain't they?" Surelda asks with a laugh. She pauses to pull her cloak off over her head, hanging it on a nearby screw. It allows her to go through the pockets until she finds a vial and a clean syringe. She begins to clean it.

While doing so, she turns to Booker, and then tilts her leg slightly to look down at it. "Hmmm? Oh, Molerat. Had a little too much fun, found him gnawing on my leg when I came to." So yeah, she's a pretty bad addict. Her black eyes look down to the vial, and then thoughtfully to Booker again. "Want me to do you first, sugar? I'm gentle; you won't even feel it, unless you'd like to." She grins once more, almost like all of this is fun.
Nemo Booker forces a smile, then flexes and unflexes his hands, nostrils flaring. "Mmm, no molerats in here, but if ya fall asleep, ya might wake up with Me havin' a little taste too." He snickers, and slips off his poncho, some items rattling around inside it's pockets as he tosses it over the toolbox, exposing the other gun on his hip, a similar revolver. He tosses his hat, and it spins in the air to land on a nearby parts-laden shelf.

He takes the only chair, an office chair pulled beside the Auto-Doc and some medical equipment, walking it back over to Surelda. He rolls up his sleeve, showing off his tanned bicep, then slaps it a couple times, making a fist so she can find a vein. "A little pain is good for everyone." He leans in, stray black tendrils of hair obscuring part of his leering expression, "Don'tcha think?"
Elsie Surelda manages a laugh. "More'n a little, if your appetites are any indication. But we'll get to that, sugar." She pushes the syringe into the vial and draws deep of the purple liquid in there. This is another bit of business she knows, and even as she sets the vial aside, she's very careful with the syringe. Checking for any air bubbles, making sure it's clean, leaking a little of the liquid to make sure it operates properly. But boy oh boy, is that one full syringe.

Surelda moves to the man then, where he's settled in the chair. She settles down in front of him, on her knees, and gently takes his wrist between her fingers to keep his arm still. She hums in response to his question and looks up at the man. "I dunno, sugar. You tell me." With that, she slides the syringe into his vein and depresses the plunger, positively flooding his veins with Calmex.
Nemo The whole world loses color and contrast for a moment, as Nemo's veins are filled with tranquilizer. His heart skips a beat, and though his eyes are wide open, he's staring right through Surelda. "Silffer..." He tries to reach for her, but his limp hand just rises and falls slowly, slower, to the floor, taking the limp body of Nemo Booker with him. He collapses on the ground, his mouth slack, growing pale and unmoving.
Elsie "About fucking time," Surelda says, her voice no longer sweet and cooing. She sets the syringe aside and just stands over Nemo Booker, hands on her hips for a long moment.

Then, she hauls back and kicks him with her booted foot, aiming to plant the point of pain right between his ribs.
Nemo The boot hits him squarely between the ribs, with a resounding thud, and his body shifts. His head lolls to one side, drool dripping out of his mouth. He groans, weakly, "..ghryon...hurnm kill him... nunwich ohsts." His eyes roll around in his head, as he tries to look up at Surelda, unable to focus.
Elsie "Shut the fuck up," Surelda tells the drooling mass on the floor. She heaves a sigh and shakes out her limbs in preparation for what comes next. Because what comes next is dragging Nemo Booker's googly ass toward the auto-doc. Surelda has used one before, in the Vault, when she first arrived to El Dorado. So she knows what it does and what it looks like. And the babbling man on the floor had mentioned a setting.

Well, she operates radios. How hard can this be? "I'm going ... to fry ... your brains ..." she grunts while she heaves and drags. "And take ... all your chems ... and your money ... and your fucking shoes too ... you stupid prick..."
Nemo Surelda lugs Nemo's flaccid, drooling, incoherent ass into the Auto-Doc Mark III. Once she lays him out on the table, glass shields close around him, two halves sliding together to meet over him, a Nemo Booker data tube. Lasers begin scanning and modeling his body, and screen over a keyboard at the head of it lights up. A friendly and enthusiastic male voice announces, "Good Afternoon, Doctor! Oh no, your patient is suffering from numerous conditions!" The screen shorts out, picture rolling, before it cuts back in, "How would you like to proceed?" The screen turns from full green, to displaying a human figure to one side, and bubbled options on the other, with cryptic little tabs at the bottom.

Nemo groans faintly, putting his fingers against the glass in confusion. He lowers his hand, slowly, but not before the Auto-Doc says, "You're patient is struggling! Would you like to sedate him?" Another bubbled option appears at the bottom.

(Suggested Services)
(Surgery!)
(Dialysis!)
(Euthanize!)
(Sedate!)

The tabs at the bottom indicate different windows, and are labeled cryptically. 'Set' 'Ind' 'Prof' 'Sec' 'His' 'Diag'
Elsie Surelda's slender fingers hover over the buttons. Her eyes track from the screen to Nemo inside the glass case. She watches him for a moment, then shakes her head. "You just stay there," she tells the man before turning back toward her bag. She digs out another vial and a fresh plastic syringe. In moments, Daddy-O is flowing through her veins. She sits back, on the floor and sighs while the drug takes effect.

This time, when she riess to the machine, she appears much more focused. She begins sliding through the menu options, before tapping on the glass. "Nemo. Which button do I press?" she asks him, shouting through the glass.

That has to inspire some confidence.

She looks back to the mechanism and flips a few more menu options. She opts for Diagnostics.
Nemo Nemo's head rolls around, and after a long moment searching, his green, dilated eyes are on Surelda. "Missthully? I'm sorry." He taps at the glass, "I'm soo sorry." He's having trouble keeping his eyes open. "I... I tried to stop... stop him..." Another Bubbled Option pops up, (Adrenaline!) "Your patient is incoherent, and suffering from barbituate overdose! Would you like to administer adrenaline?" The Auto-Doc seems so cheerful about it, but a little arm in the tube comes out from under the table to shock Nemo when he knocks on the glass.

Meanwhile, Surelda is navigating the possibilties on the Auto-Doc's control panel. She opens the Diagnostics Tab, and new bubbled options are available, all of the tabs down at the bottom remaining the same.

(Suggested Services!)
(Drug Testing)
(Blood Screening)
(Brain Scans)
(Body Scans)
(Full Diagnostic Report)

'Set' 'Ind' 'Prof' 'Sec' 'His' 'Diag'
Elsie "Shut up and tell me what to push on this thing you asshoe," Surelda growls at the glass as she flips through the diagnostics. Screw that. Back up. Suggested services. "I'm going to get you clean first," she decides, reporting to Nemo or Booker or both. "And I swear to all that's holy and the great Atom in the sky; if you're still the asshole when you're clean I'm going to have this thing cut your balls off. So if I'm about to do the wrong thing, you'd better tell me so I do the right one." A few more buttons, a few more screens, until she finally finds what she's looking for.

Her finger hovers inpatiently.
Nemo An hourglass symbol appears, as lazers scan Nemo again, and a softer, feminine female voice comes from the Auto-Doc, "Class 3 parasytic nanites found. Mental degradation and synaptic pathways rerouted. Stimulants, depressants, barbituates, and 23 other pollutants found, chemically induced personality disorder likely, and infestation of foreign weaponized nanites may result in hallucinations, paranoia and schizotypal behavior."

As Surelda navigates the options available, the announcer voice says, "Oh no! You've contracted nanites! Preparing to defribulate." Two little arms appear from under the table, with shiny metal pads on them, and a belt straps Nemo to the bed. A high-pitched humming can be heard, and the announcer says, "Clear!" before those paddles press to Nemo's chest through his T-shirt and he's suddenly jolted with electricity. "AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!" Nemo screams, and beneath his wails the announcer asks, "You're patient is screaming! Would you like to gag him?" The paddles come up, spin around, and come back down, "What? Oh fuuuaAAHHH!!!" The screen shows the voltage rising, and the tube inside is filling with very faint smoke from the burnt holes in Nemo's shirt. He's panting, and struggling against his bonds. "Sully?" He waits a moment, catching his breath, "I think it's over... We need to warn people, Miss Sully." He turns those green-eyes on Surelda, pleading from inside his tube.
Elsie "Oh no you don't," Surelda says once the defib is over. She's not letting him out of this tube yet! "Which one of these will wipe your addictions? Hmmm." She begins to flip through the different selections and options, moving along by dragging her finger on the screen to get from one selection of options to the next. And the next. And the next.

"If you're really who you say you are, I want you to do this to me next. Do you understand in there?" She taps on the glass a few times for good measure.
Nemo "Alright, yeah, that's fair," Nemo says, after a moment's consideration. He calls out through the glass, "Check the index, see if you can't find Chemical Dependency, or Addictol injections. Worst case scenario, Dialysis." He sighs, and lays back on the table, resigned to his fate, as well as restrained to it. "He looks up at her, frowning faintly, "I really am sorry. I wasn't myself."

Sure enough, there are Chemical Dependency solutions listed right where he said they'd be. It only takes a few buttons to start the procedure, and Nemo calling out his ID number. Soon, a singular arm is repeatedly injecting him with something, running from the top of his neck, down hsi spine, and then repeating the process along his right arm, "Shit. Ow. Ow... damnit, I should have suggested anasthesiOw. OW."
Elsie Surelda only takes moderate pleasure in watching Nemo get pricked. "You could've asked but I wasn't going to give it to you anyway," she tells him, setting one hand on the glass while she watches the procedure. She won't let him out just yet.

"I need to find a way to prove that you're back to your senses, and you're not the crazy psycopath who's going to shoot up a clinic," she curtly tells Nemo. "So figure out a way to make me feel comfortable with that, and I'll let you out. Otherwise I'll leave you in here to starve slowly."
Nemo Nemo closes his eyes, "Um, alright." He nods, glancing towards the other side of the room, "Go take my jet out, and destroy it. I'm fine with it, I don't care." He shrugs, "That's not me, anymore." He looks to Surelda, waiting.
Elsie Surelda will watch him for a long moment. It's a stare, or more of a glare really. But then, at last, there will be the hum of a button and the hiss of a mechanism, and the glass will fold open around him. Nemo is free.

"I'm not going to destroy your Jet," she tells him, taking a step back and folding her arms, almost self-protectively. "But I am going to take it. And any other chems you have on you." She stands there, arms crossed, glowering at the man. Watching to see what he does.
Nemo Nemo steps out of the tube, off the table, rubbing his arm. He glances down at the burnt holes in his shirt revealing his pecs, before smirking at Surelda, "You really think you can handle that much psycho?" He purses his lips, watching her, before his features soften, "I reckon I owe you that much, at least." He crosses his arms over his chest, glancing to the tube and taking a step back. "Wanna see how you feel about it after the procedure?"
Elsie "I'm taking it either way," Surelda says, with a tone of authority in her voice. Yeah, she's pissed. If Nemo was perhaps hoping that she'd be nice and easygoing and forgiving? Naw, man. She pissed. The man gets another hard, scruitinizing look from her before she moves. She steps around him, out of his reach in case he might move to grab her, and toward the table. She considers it, then him, once more, before she moves to slide into it. Uncertainly, she settles her head back and stares at the ceiling.

"Also, once this is over, you're telling me exactly what the fuck just happened."
Nemo "I owe you that much too, I reckon." He glances around, finds his hat, and pops it back on. Nemo walks over to the Auto-Doc, and presses a button. The tube seals shut. He stares at the screen, "Do you know what nanites are, Miss Sully? Little tiny machines, like a virus, that can do most anything you program them too. And they replicate incredibly fast." He presses another button, and the announcer says, "Oh no! Your patient is chemically dependant! Would you like to treat them?" Another button is pushed, and soon, a little arm with a syringe appears below the table, preparing to repeatedly inject Surelda.
Elsie Repeated injections is no more than Surelda has done to herself, most of her life. Still, when the time comes, she whimpers and grits her teeth and rocks back and forth while keeping her arms in a straight line, gripping the hand rest with white knuckles. She'll not answer until the stabs are over, at which point she'll visibly relax.

"Sure don't," she'll finally answer. "And generally speaking I don't care. That wasn't some machine making you do what you did," she tells the man. It's only once the needle has finished stabbing her that she rolls her head to the side to look over at Nemo. Yeah, she still looks pissed.
Nemo Nemo presses another button, and the announcer says, "Standing by!" The slender, green-eyed man walks over to the tube, and lowers his face to the glass, "No, it wasn't. Just like chems don't make you do what you do, or see what you see, or feel what you feel when you're on them, right?" His brows lift, letting the question hang in the air.

"I have my own issues, and I do pretty well keeping them at bay, when I'm not infected with Pre-War nanites. All the bullshit you hear about Dunwich, come from those little machines wreaking havoc. There's a cloud of them, miles wide, around Dunwich, and spreading. They're almost reaching Roswell..."

"And no, the nanites didn't make me do what I did. I take responsibility for that, and I'm sorry." He works his jaw in a slow circle, "You're getting a sack of chems, and a clean bill of health you get out of here. We gonna have any problems, you and I?" He arches a brow challengingly.
Elsie "You son of a bitch," Surelda growls, and she reaches up with a fist to smack the glass at Nemo's face. Of course, we've learned the machine doesn't like that, so it zaps her with some sort of mechanized, chipper female explanation. Surelda yelps and pulls her hand back, cradling it against her chest.

She glares up at the man, but there's fear there too. He can see it in those deep, dark orbs. "Other than the broken rib I gave you, no. We're square," she grudgingly assures him. She blinks and looks away, setting her own jaw unhappily, as though it might hold back tears. But then she looks at him again.

"Did you know that was gonna happen? When you asked me for the Jet, did you know what it was gonna be like?"
Nemo Nemo doesn't meet her gaze, turning his away. He rubs at his mouth, sighing, before confessing, "No... I thought... I thought I'd be happy. And that I'd have the courage to make a move on you. These damn nightmares, I've been so..." He looks back to Surelda, green eyes to her dark orbs, "No, Miss Sully. I used to be real bad addicted to Jet, but pretty good about stayin' away from it." He glances to the Auto-Doc, "I'm gonna let you out, and I'm going to save Dunwich, and Roswell. And then, if you feel like callin' the law, or puttin' a hit out on me, or even puttin' a bullet in me yourself, I'd understand. I'd like to save these people first." And live, of course, but he doesn't stress that point just yet. He moves to the screen, and presses a button, and Surelda's tube slides open.
Elsie "Well you made a move, I'd say," Surelda says, but she doesn't sass him anymore than that. At least, not until the tube is open. At that point, she sits up quickly and yanks herself from the table, throwing her feet to the ground with such force that she skips forward a half a step. Then she moves away from Nemo, hugging herself as she looks over at him. She shakes her head.

"What am I gonna say? There's no proof of anything. And I'm an addict, and a whore besides. Or I was. Even if I could prove anything, who'd care about that?" She shakes her head at him again. "Naw, you win. You made your move. I swear by all that's holy, though. I ever catch you near Jet again my life, I will kill you my own self."
Nemo Nemo scratches at his head, nodding faintly, "Yeah. 's what most folks say." He glances towards his poncho, on the crate, then back to Surelda, "Shit... you ain't got no idea how sorry I am. Listen, you're uh... You're like a fuckin' hero a' mine. Or were. And I uh... I make chems. I mean... " He starts towards his poncho, "If you really wanna keep me off Jet, help me out. Stick around. I'll make you whatever you want, and keep you in good supply. I'll even use the Auto-Doc to keep ya from gettin' too fried, keep your tolerance down."
Elsie Surelda seems confused by this. She stares at Nemo, or glowers, rather, and just blinks at him a few times. "Stick around?" she parrots, disbelief quite obvious in her tone. "Why the fuck would you want me to stick around? Far as you can tell I might up and kill you any day I wake up and decide I'm in a mood to take it out on someone. What's me being around got to do with you an Jet?"
Nemo Nemo sighs with relief as he grabs his poncho full of jet, and subsequently the gun he laid under it earlier. He throws his poncho over his head, takes the gun up in hand, and tells Surelda, "Look, I've /been/ the bad guy. The raping, looting, pillaging raider. It's fun," He bobs his head, tone a little manic, "Oh yeah, It's fun as fuckin' shit! Until the high wears off, and you've got a pair of big brown eyes pleading for you to have some damned humanity, but the folks you're caught up with, oh no, they don't like that kinda shit!" He swears, face growing a bit red, "So you have to kill every single one of them, and by the end of it, the girl you saved is more terrified of you, than she /ever/ was of those cretins..."

He scratches his head with the barrel of his gun, tipping his hat just a little, "...So you promise yourself to stay away from the Jet, try to be a good person, but shit keeps happenin', catchin' up with you, you keep havin' to put people in the ground." He's down to a real low whisper, moving closer to Surelda, "Then, if you're lucky, like me and damned was I lucky, you get to be caught into a group of... of... real people. Good people, honest people wantin' to change shit, make the world better. Some careful dosages of calmex, a blood alcohol level perfectly stabilized, and you can function just like them." He points the gun at the Auto-Doc, "Fix things like that, save lives, help the militia. Shit, me and Qwilly, these guys here, they built an EMP device to cure exactly what was in my system.... I'm gettin' off topic."

He holsters his gun, and looks at Surelda, "I like you, and if you kill me, well, you're one of the few people who deserve to and I die bein' a /good/ man... Which is all I want. And if you don't kill me, you just said you would if I got around jet again... so... You'd /keep/ me a good man." He plants his hands on his hips, then remembers something. He pulls out the last of his jet, some psycho, calmex, and sets it all down on the table beside them. "Lemme know what you want me to whip up next.... It's all yours." He licks his lips, and looks at Surelda with his most contrite expression.
Elsie Surelda just stares at the man, for a few long beats and breaths. Considering, weighing her options. The drugs getting set aside for her; that catches her attention and her eyes flicker that way. THen she looks back to the man.

SHe's heard his whole spiel. His whole confession. And, at last, she speaks.

"I will," she decides, and she reaches forward to scoop up the chems that he's laid out for her. "Just remember; if I catch you acting that way again, or doing Jet again ... hell, I won't kill you myself. I'll just tell Ashur what you did to me." Whatever is going on between this pair is impossible for outsiders to know, but if she's using it as a threat it's safe to say that it's a threat.
Nemo Nemo nods, backing away from the chems. He tells Surelda, "I'm sure you probably want to get home to your family, or something. Just... try and catch up with me here soon, or something." He sighs, lowering his gaze, "Now uh... I've got to work on a plan." He moves to a table, and pulls out a long roll of paper, revealing a makeshift, simple line map of the surrounding roads.