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Beefrow It's currently early morning in October, and there's a clear sky over El Dorado and Shantytown, a bit warm, but with a nice cool breeze. Here in Shantytown, there's more shade thanks to the massive metal plates forming a wall around the collection of scrap metal and wood buildings. On this particular street, a lot of the usual trash has been cleaned up, and a menagerie of patio furniture and makeshift tables hold a congress of Shantytowners around them, as everyone prepares for a big feast, in honor of Wall Day!

Finally, Shantytown has a wall like El Dorado has, and some of the local merchants and townspeople are gathering together food, while shadier folks hold underground ammunitions trades, and a spare few help tends wounds to those who have shown up sick, injured, or needy.

There's a variety of people all getting together, but it looks like nothing official has actually started. Nearby, to the southeast, Shantytown's new gates stand wide open, in expectation of daily traffic.
Shane "See, I told you, my ankle would be fine," Shane grins up at Davidson as she's stepping out of one of the shanties. "Did I get the chance to show you this blade Ironface is letting me use?" she asks, reaching a hand up over one shoulder to pat one of the flat sides of Ripper not decorated with gnarled metal teeth and the slow rotting remnants of super mutant thigh tissue. "I've wound up getting involved with a lot of patrols and stuff of late. It feels nice. Kinda like redemption." This offered, as she steps closer to the stragglers gathering.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell of all people is here! He hasn't been seen in ages too! He's busy celebrating the Shantytown wall building. No mutant is gonna cross that wall, no sir! He grabs some food after paying for it graciously and begins to CHOW DOWN. Enjoying his time here. Still..most things in the wastes don't go off without a hitch. There have been many hitches for awhile, but was that truely the end of Shantytowns worries? Hopefully.
Nemo Nemo tells Melissa Frank, the svelte woman in a salvaged police officer's uniform, in a very placid, calm tone, "I'm sorry. We had a propane tank for the grill. Now we don't. It was... beyond my control." He shrugs, leaving the little gasless grill by a table, taking a seat to pour himself a drink, most uninvolved in the chaos of the early morning crowd.
Davidson "You might want to clean her a bit, but she's a beauty of a weapon," admits Davidson as he ducks out after Shane, pushing the door closed in their wake with a creak of metal -- a pair of padlocks snapped into place before he turns back away to walk beside her. A smile crooks to his lips as he glances down, "...good. It's a good town for a fresh start, honestly. And there's never a lack of shit to do... oh, shit." A blink up, finally realizing there's folks gathering about, "It's Wall Day. I didn't even realize."
Alasa Alasa comes walking along, looking around as she does. "Wow, what do we have here..some kind of...street fair or something. I wonder if they have an games to play."
James Crouched down at the edge of the edge of the main path of traffic, James is turning on wrench working on a mangled and dented former Mr. Handy. "Son of a!" as well as "You piece a," occasionally erupt from his grease stained face. Noticing more people start to amass, he stands up to gaze around. Then it hit's him. The people, the atmosphere. There's gonna be food. James smiles broadly.
Ashur Thus comes Ashur: unarmored, right fist encased in a glimmering carapace of futuristic gold and black wound with magnetic coils, the knuckles of the left hand bruised and bloodied; he stands swaddled in a luxurious and regal white toga, dusted with chalk to brighten, and so catches the morning sun and sparkles like a diamond fire. Clasped at his neck and hanging to the ground beneath him, stretching for feet and feet, is his white cloak; upon his feet are simple hobnailed boots that lace above his ankles. His beard is well-groomed and his head freshly shaved, and he seems in well enough condition, if one neglects the cornucopia of contusions and cuts that disrupts the consistency of his scar tissue.

He frowns as he walks, stepping beneath the shadow of a food stall and pushing past a portly man offering shishkabob. "Be silent," he commands as the advertisement begins. "What fools celebrate a wall?"
Shane "What's Wall Day?" Shane asks, laughing and glancing over her shoulder at the blade with a nod, "I'll take that under advisement." Salute, grin, nudge of hip. "Guess that means you taking me out for another ride on the motorbike is off for the moment." She glances off toward Alasa with some curiosity, then looks back to Davidson. "There's this girl Vic who I keep running into. Feels like she needs to meet you. She makes tea." A wave's given to Nemo, then, on her way over to FOOD!... errr.. food. "I need to get a bow," she concludes. She glances to the spectacle of the broken robot and James, one corner of her lip quirking up further.
Beefrow "Get your ratmeat shiskabobs! Real rat, not molerat! Genuiii-" The portly vendor at one food stall decides to wait until a bit later in the day to start hawking, one the hulking white cloak hushes him. Ashur gains a certain amount of notice, due to his noteriety, and the crowd gives him a wary but respectful berth.

There's food all around, most of it still cooking, filling the air with a myriad of delicious smells. There's an entire row of games for kids and adults alike right near Sally's Slop Soup Services. Prebuilt stalls have been carted here for just this occasion, the artistic talents of Shantytown's people on display. There's even a firing range and men taking bets by the sheet-metal saloon. Despite all the commotion, there are militia patrols atop the new walls, keeping the peace, and plenty of armed citizens ready for some vigilante justice.

A group of well-dressed, combat armor clad young men are raking in the coins at the firing range. There's people arguing by the grills behind the food stalls, and more citizens are showing up by the minute.
Nemo Nemo waves to Shane and Davidson, a few familiar faces in the crowd, before he's spotted James, and that 'damned robot'. He's up and off his feet in a hurry, moseying on over closer, offering a toke from his bottle of clear alcohol, "Hey, James right? I see you with this thing all over the place. Whatcha need to fix it? Dr. Booker, by the way, with the Scientists of El Dorado." He's already formulating a sales pitch.
James     Guided very obviously by his nose, James works his way through the crowd, his mullet almost like a shark of sorts. Shifting left, then a quick step right, he stalks his prey. Closer and closer, his yearning to savor the moment painted all over his face. Finally he has found that which he sought so valiantly, so bravely, so.. His stomach growls as he approaches the food stall.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell offers a wave to folks he knows. He's talked to one or two residents of ShantyTown before. He's fairly known to most of these people considering he's a Hero Of El Dorado. He even fought back the Enclave with his towns people! He heads over to the minigames and heads on over to the SHOOTING range to go test his firing skills. "What's all this about" He asks curiously of the armor clad men.
Davidson "Ah, they just finished building that thing..." Davidson's hand sweeps over in the direction of the ramshackle wall built up from scrap metal that protects the outer fringe of Shantytown, " help repel raiders, keep random mutant animals from meanderin' through, that sort of thing. Vic, eh? Well, I'm always glad to meet new people. Anyway, the wall went up, and someone got it in their head to throw a party..." His chin lifts up in an affable nod towards Nemo in return, and as he and Shane head towards foot he chuckles more quietly, "And that big guy's Ashur, if you've not ran into His Giganticness yet."
Alasa Alasa looks around, "Amazing, it looks like a smaller version of shanty town has been built in shanty town. Its like, blowing my mind...well not really, but it is different." As she starts to walk around the area.
James     James looks over to Mr. Booker holding a single finger straight up in the air very sharply. A scowl covers his face a moment as he spits, "I will let no man stand between me and my food! We shall not speak until my belly is full good sir!"
Shane "We met once," Shane nods as she chuckles, "...he was taking the heat on the first super mutant I ever fought." She looks back over at James, hitching a thumb that way, "This guy's great. He's hilarious." Rat on a stick. Shane takes two, and nods back to Ashur, "Nice meeting you again and... whatnot," is offered around a mouth full of half chewed meat.
Beefrow The sudden presence of the man in Power Armor has the armored young men in a bit of suprise. The older, sneering one says, "These Shantytown bitches down want to pay up. Say there's a limit to how much we can win," He laughs and spins his revolver deftly, holstering it. The younger, red-faced one says, "Yeah, they're too poor to even gamble!" And that has the rest in chuckles.

Nearby, two locals are muttering quietly, arguing about the group of El Dorado customers, "That shot was impossible. He cheated somehow." The other disagrees, "Doesn't matter. He made it! We can't pay them."
Ashur Ashur's eyes narrow, his nostrils flare, and his lips curve low to sneer, exposing the edge of a sharpened tooth. "Walls require no triumphs," he sullenly remarks, stalking away from the hawker without a second glance. "They are dumb things of metal and stone. It was the men upon them who shed blood."

He really isn't one for parties, that bullish man. So it isn't Shane's fault at all when she greets him and the look he gives her is the equivalent of stepping in a pile of cow shit.

"Who are you, woman?"

The troublemakers are ignored for now. Ashur's not militia or with the sheriff's department; so far as he's concerned, the poverty-stricken cunts of Shantytown making a ruckus is normal.
Davidson "Ashur." Davidson's tone is more than a touch wry as he greets the enormous figure, one hand sliding to rub against the nape of his neck as he stops beside Shane, "I think that it's more a celebration of the accomplishment - those who shed blood, sweat, tears, all that recovering the materials and doing the work. It's something solid the people can point to, say that they did to make their lives better. So, they celebrate."
Beefrow There's a sudden flash of fire, as a teenager lights a roll of toilet paper on fire, and throws it about twenty yards, towards a collection of toilets. One of them explodes into flames, sending smoke into the air, and his teenage friends cheer. The booth operator hands him a big teddy bear stitched out of old jeans.

Nearby, some older men are encouraging their friend who is arm-wrestling a supposed champion for a hefty sum of coins. When the opponents hand hits the table, there's a crack of bone, a collective sigh of disappointment, and a satisfied chuckle as the big dude awaits more challengers.

At Caldwell's arrival, the troublemaking armored young men decide to move elsewhere, if not pressed, the firing range freeing up for others.

There's a huge line gathering around the food stalls, causing a lot of wait.
Shane "Trouble," Shane introduces herself, not put off by such looks, sucking a hunk of ratmeat from a canine well-greyed with age as she looks up at the mountain of a man. She picks her teeth as she looks between those talking. Nodding as she looks up at Davidson, she decides, "I like it. I've been contemplating if joining the Scientists might not help the medical training angle while helping me keep an eye on that girl." She jumps mid conversation, at the brief outbreak of flames. "Sorry.. lost my train of thought." She eyes the smoke, considering.
James     James's pupils widen like a kid on his first toy scavenge. He pays for his food and while nearly swallowing an iguana on a stick whole gazes in joy at the explosion as he yells, "Wooo! Now it's a gawddamn party!"
Alasa Alasa stops as she crosses her arms, and watches the games..if they can be called that really. "I know things are tough, but you think theyd have some proper carnival games set up...good thing Bob stayed home, he would have been so disappointed." As she makes a wander over towards the food stalls
Ashur Trouble's hardly the weirdest name in the wasteland, and so Ashur drops his chin in a sharp nod, issuing a non-commital grunt that straddles the line between animalistic and just unpleasantly acknowledging. "I see," he dismisses her with, pivoting on a heel and driving off with a flourish of that grand cloak. It is the most testosterone-fueled chunk of the party he comes to, a competition of strength as magnetic as the coils that line his gauss fist; celebrating a wall, whatever Davidson's explanation might justify, is still not within his bailiwick.

But feats of strength? As his boots crush discarded shishkabob sticks, wrappers, grass and stone beneath them, he settles at the armwrestling table.

"I've heard the men of El Dorado have hands as soft as whores," he remarks, flexing his hand open and then closed, mouth shaped insolent. "I'm curious, now."
Davidson "You'll have to forgive him," Davidson informs Shane with a roll of his eyes, tongue firmly in cheek, "Anything that doesn't involve fighting and dying for glory - or fucking to make babies - doesn't fall in the circle of things he understands." The sudden flash of fire catches his attention, then, and he grins - jerking his head that way, he starts in that direction, "C'mon, I'm gonna give it a try."
Shane Lifting both shoulders as she listens, and nods, Shane tells Davidson, "That sounds about right. I raised half a dozen brothers and sisters." Dry. Drier than sagebrush, that tone. "Godspeed." She nudges Davidson in the shoulder with a grin, "So, have I missed any more adventures? I need to actually be around for one of 'em."
Davidson "So there's this old Nuka-Cola factory not too far from here," Davidson immediately launches into a story when asked about his adventures, nudging his shoulder back against Shane's and flashing her a grin as he strolls over towards the toilets, "Ghouls live in it, they're fiends for the stuff. Nuka-Cola, I mean. So they ran into an issue with mole-rats, they collapsed one of the floors..."

As he walks, he digs out a few caps from a pocket, smacking them down on the rickety wood counter that the man's set up before the toilets. One of the paper rolls is hefted up, and he tosses it, testing its weight. "So we go in, figure it'll just be a vermin extermination job, right? Help out the neighbors, make some new friends."

An under-hand lob sends the roll hurtling through the air in an arc, up, up... down, down, and then it slams into the middle of one of the toilets, resulting in a sudden blast of flame that shoots up into the air. A broad grin at the spectacle, his face illuminated by the flash, "We didn't expect a mama mole rat the size of a building."
Shane Bright and breathless, the laughter from Shane at the moment of the fireball. She's grown so interested in the story that the flare of light and noise takes her nearly unawares before it turns to mirth rather than reticence. "How many were there? Was it all one colony? Do you think they converge like that at factories all over?" She peppers Davidson liberally with questions.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell goes to confront the thugs fucking around in town. Cracking his power armored KNUCKLES. "Is there an issue here, boys?" he asks curiously. Caldwell was a well known Guardian around most of the El Dorado Federation. If these chucklefucks didn't know who he was well..they were about to.
Alasa Alasa tries the silly tossing game, and shakes her head..."Well, I've lost more at the tables...thats just a silly game." As she reaches into a pocket, and pulls out a fresh carrot, and takes a bite of it.
Ashur The reigning champion settles in opposite Ashur. The two are similarly large; Ashur has a few inches of height, but the champion's chest and arms are sprawling things, thick and stout with solid leverage, hardened from decades of manual labor and construction work. Those hands aren't soft at all, no -- they're weathered and rough from years of clutching brick and stone, gripping shovels, carrying equipment and materials.

The two lock eyes and bend their arms, gnarled fingers clasping.

"It does feel like a woman's touch," Ashur shit-talks, squeezing until his knuckles whiten. The laborer is quiet and focused. At the signal, the two immediately flex, forearms bulging, sweat dripping as their faces redden.

Through clenched teeth, Ashur hisses, grinding them together, as his hand is forced down; inch by inch, every centimeter a hard-fought battle, as the shadow of his hand deepens and darkens the table's top. He sucks in a deep breath and huffs, the veins on his neck swollen and standing out, as his golden skin glistens -- the momentum turns, slowly, until once more they're in the neutral position.

People hoot and holler, cheering and jeering, as the two similarly-strong men compete. If anyone here admires male forearms, this is Paradise.

But, slowly -- oh so slowly, Ashur begins to force his opponent down and back, steady, steady, until at last his muscle gives out and with a slam that splits the table down the middle with a hailstorm shower of dust and fragments, Ashur claims victory.

He roars like a lion.
Beefrow The older, sneering young man ignores his game at William Caldwell's intimidating presence. "Leave us alone man, we ain't doing nothing wrong. We just got a job to do, alright!?" He turns to walk away, smoothing back his shiny hair as he turns to leave. His younger, dumber friend balKs, "Yeah, Shhit-towners gotta pay taxes too, now! They get a wall, and now they get taxes. We'll make sure of it!"

The older, sneering young man tells his friend, "Shut. Up." He looks to the man in power armor, looks up, rather, telling him, "Look, it's just a small prank, to remind them they need El Dorado. No one's gonna get hurt."
Davidson "Maybe a dozen or so, but that big 'un..." A throaty chuckle from Davidson, who collects his winnings- tossing the caps in the air and then catching them again in a jangling, a broad grin offered to Shane, " that one, I hope there's only one of. Big as a building, and-- you ever seen some Nuka-Cola Quantum? She had that same glow in her eyes..."
James     Spitting out a half-chewed heap of lizard, James gives a scornful look at the vender. "What the hell you think yer ass is tryin ta pull," he barks with a thick southern accent. "This here's a gawddamn shindig an yer gawddamn food's colder elderly ghoul's nether regions. I will not stand for this atrocity. I will not stand for it!" he rants red faced as he shoves way behind the stall and starts barking simple one word commands. "Duct tape," followed by "Guana bits." A small monstrosity of tape and jury rigged parts now adorn the propane tank as James gives it a light kick. "That should do. But that won't," he says pointing to the remaining tanks. "Fix em fer an open bar," he says with a wink to the merchant.
Shane Laughing and shaking her head as she looks up at Davidson, Shane notes, "You're insane. Like... you know this, right?" The continuing saga of James' jury rigging catches her growing notice once the flaming toilets game has been played, and she hitches a thumb off that way, "Did... we just get grills?" She nods appreciatively, "Excellent." It would seem she's assuming as much, at least.
Davidson "I'm serious," Davidson laughs, shoving the hand-ful of caps away into a pocket before draping an arm around her shoulder, "You don't believe me about the giant mole-rat, do you?" The grills, now brought to his attention, is the same direction that he starts walking off towards - moving to tug Shane with him, "Looks like it. Maybe we can beat the rush."
Beefrow The sweaty old man nods profusely to James, "Yeah, yeah, fuck it, we'll give you your own tap to a keg." He gestures to some vendors across the street, "They had the same problems with their grills too." Thanks to James, the line of people waiting for food thins out, and people begin gorging themselves. There's cheers of victory when a new champion roars at a popular game, and fireballs tossed through the air at one of the many games.

Funnel cakes, cookies, ice cold soda, cold water, iguana bits, noodles (Fried or boiled!), moledogs, and many other things are bought and sold cheaply at this little celebration.

There's a woman in an old city policeman's uniform putting up a big banner that says, "Wall Day!"
Alasa Alasa finds a rock to sit down on, and sits down on it. Sitting on the rock, she rocks back and forth a bit to the rythm of a rock song, playing in her head. She quietly hums to herself, Sitting on the dock of the bay...while dock is not a rock, it ryhmes with rock and thus is close enough.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell looks down at the men. "You're not taking anyones taxes. And if I see you do, we're gonna have issues. Understand? Beat it fuckboys." he says angrily, keeping his weapon at the ready JUST in case.
Percy     Late to the party due to a mid-afternoon nap that went for entirely too long, Percy makes his arrival without much fanfare. The sometimes-practicing Doctor of the Shantytown clinic scans the group of people with his steely blue eyes, rubbing a hand through his short-cut hair. "Well, this is quite the turn-out..." He mutters to himself. Dressed in his nice pants, long-sleeve shirt and overcoat, he begins to meander through the crowd. "I wonder if I'm able to get one of those delightful icy cold sodas? Hm."
Ashur With the table broken beneath him and his victory undeniable, Ashur lets out a laugh like a wild dog. He rolls to his feet and claps the construction worker on the shoulder. "You're stronger than most," he praises. "And wasted in this pit. Mercenary work would suit you better, laborer." With a nod of respect, the bestial Roman turns and cuts through the crowds, slope-shouldered with a prison yard charge that forces others to wildly veer out of his way lest they be run the fuck over.

He appears, moments later, near Alasa, seated upon her rock. She is humming and rocking and he's staring down at her, golden eyes burning. "Are you ill, woman?"
Beefrow As night turns to evening, myriad game stalls have risen and gambling abounds, a single curtained area renting time with old arcade games. A peek inside disappoints with only the two, and a clever mirror. However, much of the food is free, and while a steady mead is served, the higher priced alcohols are being sold here as well by enterprising individuals. Most of the activities ring an area around a series of tables, where everyone eats. Before them all, a wooden stage beside the soup kitchen has some people setting up instruments. Using a bullhorn, the woman in the police uniform steps up onto the dias and makes a loud announcement, "We'd like to thank everyone for coming out today! We're all here to celebrate the time and effort the Samaritans of El Dorado, and all of us together, have put in to make this city, Our City, Shantytown, safer!" She smiles, and waves, as if anyone cheering recognizes her above anyone else. "With the end of construction on these walls, I'm sure we can all appreciate how it symbolizes us truly coming together, and recognizing Shantytown as a real part of the community, part of El Dorado. The Wasteland Blues will be entertaining us with some music, as our night draws to an end. Thank you!"
Percy     "Hm?" The haunting sound of Ashur's cackle causes Percy's ears to twig in memory. It's the same voice he had heard at the clinic, just a week or so ago. Truthfully - how could anyone forget Ashur? Sure enough, as he glances in that direction, he can see the mountain of a man cruising through traffic like an adult at a children's party. Pushing his round spectacles back up the bridge of his nose, he makes way. As the only familiar person he can see, why not say hello?
    "Good evening, Sir." Ashur never actually gave Percy his name, so he has naught to draw on. Pausing to listen to the woman with the crackling bullhorn, he puts a hand on his hip to look at her, before then back to the ex-Legionnaire. "I hadn't anticipated you would be at a party in Shantytown."
    Naturally, he also looks down to Alasa - approaching Ashur having made him get within her vicinity. His head cants a bit in curiosity. "Good evening."
Beefrow As the entitled 'Tax Collectors' shuffle off, away from the threat range of Guardian Caldwell, the young, red-faced armored man happens to drop his pipe wrench, before they're gone behind a tent pavilion. Near the firing range, there's a loud backfire, and then screams of pain, and for help. "Someone! Please! He's bleeding!"
Nemo Meanwhile, Nemo's tossing a flaming roll of toilet paper through the air. He's losing money by the handful as he keeps throwing them, unable to catch a toilet full of moonshine on fire. "Damnit!"
James     James points a finger sharply at the tanks, "You see this shit! You see it?" He asks loudly. "It's bad nuff we got gawddamn Buildin sized molerats, bicycle cross-breeding, and gawddamn super gorrillas straight out the gawddamn comics but now I gotta deal with this shit." He gives another firm point to the tanks before taking his trusty screwdriver from his toolbelt. The proud mulleted man mutters a string of incoherent obscentites while repairing the grills.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell readies his Laser Musket and enters behind the tent pavilion. Thankfully he was trained in the art of MEDICINE. And he was capable of fixing up most wounds. He looks around for the culprit of who shot the poor bastard and readies himself for a firefight. While also keeping his stimpak handy just in case.
Beefrow Turns out, the gun jammed and backfired. The rifle the folks at the firing range hadn't seen any problems all day, but here was a young, redheaded man missing fingers and bawling his eyes out, as one of the Shantytowners calls out for help. When Guardian Caldwell's arrived, the responsible man says, "He's losin' a lotta blood! We put the fingers in cups, over there! Help him, help him!"
Alasa Alasa glances over to the food area, and spys the grills..."You know, I've always wondered if you shot the fuel tank on one of those grills, would it explode in an upright manner, or in a 360 degree arc...hmmm..something to test.
Shane "I believe you," Shane says, with a wink at Davidson, before she starts to take off to try and get a look wherever someone's screaming about blood, trotting off through the larger, bulkier figures about her purposefully. Then stops up short when she spots Guardian Caldwell headed there, making no show of hiding the relief she can just relax. "I -do-, believe you, I mean," she offers, watching the patch job just in case there's need to step in.
Percy     Percy blinks in surprise when someone calls out that 'he' is bleeding. There's a pause on his behalf, before he sighs wearily. Lifting a hand to rub his forehead, he pivots on his foot and begins to head for the firing range. As it happens he appears to be the second medical man to arrive! Not that he knows that. "I'm a Doctor," He reveals wearily. "Did anyone need help?" Then, he spots the fingers. In a cup. "Huh."
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell begins to quickly start stitching fingers back on, nodding to Percy while continuing his work. He can't seem to get the last god damn finger on and gets up, moving away to let Percy finish.
Davidson "I swear," Davidson says in wry tones, head shaking a little as he follows to where the injured man might be, "Big as a house. It's where I got beat to shit. Damn hairy thing rolled right over us at one po.. aw, hell, someone try and clean a barrel with their finger again?"
Ashur Ashur turns his head and eyeballs Percy. This man is the medicus that tended Eden's minor injuries; there's a flash of awareness in the bull's eyes and he nods upward in greeting. "I was around when it began," he explains. "And saw fit to try some of their challenges. They celebrate a silly thing -- but there is no harm in it."

Asserting his status as alpha male and breaking a table has certainly sweetened him toward the benefits of wall parties. Who knows? If he eats enough, drinks enough, and finds enough women, maybe he'll even call Wall Day a positive thing.

"Tch, backfiring guns," he says, looking off toward the howling youth Percy moves to tend. "Guns are such unreliable things. A man's sinew is his finest weapon." He looks down at Alasa. "Would it explode at all? There isn't much fuel in something so small."
Percy     "A good try, to be honest." Percy assesses Caldwell's with a narrow of his eyes behind his glasses, before crouching down to re-attach the remaining finger. He does so expertly and quickly, ensuring no dirt of anything like that is present to infect the wound. Fortunately he had come straight from the office, thus had a few personal supplies in his pack. For good measure he wipes down the wound that Caldwell re-attached too. Just for his own peace of mind.
    Once done, the fingers are re-attached and bandaged heavily. They bandages stretch up to his hand, for good measure! "You're going to only have about fifty percent of motion in these fingers. You're also likely to have significant deficits in sensation. And cold tolerance in them will be pretty whack for you. But at least it's back on. Keep the bandages on for a few weeks at least."
Alasa Alasa hmms, "Well...see, thats the thing..most of the liquid fuel might be gone..but that means, that the tank is mostly fumes..and fumes tend to ignite a lot easier then the liquid. So if you punctured it, and sparked it with the same shot..should go boom, quite easy....theortically."
Davidson As the fingers get sewn back on, Davidson slips away from Shane's side to approach the scene - not interested in the injured man, but in the destroyed weapon laying on the ground. A frown purses his lips as he looks it over, then pushes himself back up to his feet, stepping over to the vendor of the firing range, crooking a finger in the man's direction.

"Someone tampered with that gun, spiked it to blow," he says lowly, "You want to tell me why that might be?"
Percy     "That makes sense." Percy notes to Davidson's assessment of the tampered weapon, taking a moment to study it himself. "I've dealt with weapon blowbacks before. Plenty of times. Especially with the state that a lot of guns and rifles are in now. I don't think any of them have done as much damage as what I've seen here. I mean -- two fingers? For a gun at a range? That is far too much." Taking a moment to observe the weapon himself, he scans it carefully. Indeed, it had looked like it had been tampered with.
Ashur "Even with little fuel, then, you can make bombs? Interesting; I could see the value of such things, but I have no knowledge of it." The toga-clad champion lifts a shoulder in idle shrug, watching as the various party-goers give the surgery all rapt looks. "They gawk as if they've never seen injury before. Mm -- I will seek you out one day, girl, if you have an eye for explosives. They could aid New Rome greatly."

With that, he clasps his hand to his chest and then stretches his arm out, fingers straight and touching with the palm down. "Salve," he says, bidding her farewell. The investigations and carousing are of no interest to him -- he has other ways to unwind.
Beefrow The vendor at the firing range, introducing himself as 'Wayward Ralph', says, "I got no idea why they'd be tampered with, unless those damned punks that were trying to rob us blind did it to fuck us over! That has to be it!"

Percy and Guardian Caldwell's patient is thanking them profusely, and so is the boy's parents. "You're heroes, truly, both of you!" They keep coming back for hugs, it's almost a little annoying.

Melissa, the woman in the police officer's uniform, is already over at the commotion, "What's going on here? I /know/ this is the work of that gang of crooks that tried to extort us last week!"

There's a lot of information coming from different ways, but no more sign of the armored young men 'Wayward Ralph' speaks of.
Beefrow Guardian Caldwell's V.A.T.S. can easily spot two armored young men with nice looking clothes lingering near the band's stage, as the clueless performers play 50's era rock-and-roll, and night blankets El Dorado and Shantytown. Shadows fill the dwindling celebration, and people are beginning to return to their homes.
Percy     While the hugs are... nice, Percy waves a hand. "Don't mention it. Stitching fingers back on kids is something I'm far more likely to do than re-attach them on adults." He does afford himself a small smile at the very least, before taking notice of all the commotion going on. "Gangs? Punks?" To be honest, that was probably a bit more than Percy was here for! And regardless, with the medicine now complete, he had little reason to idle about. "I think I deserved that icy soda." He declares to himself, licking his lips.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell sneaks up on the both of the armored thugs and proceeds to get into the crowd, going towards them and fucking SLAMMING the both of their heads together with just enough force to KO them. Then afterwards he begins to drag them off towards the tent pavilion once more. "Are these who you're looking for?" he asks, throwing the both of them to the floor.
Beefrow Shreiking with surprise, Meliisa shouts, "Noo!"

LAughing and clapping his hands together with delight, Wayward Ralph says, "That's them! That's the lil fuckers!" He's shaking his rifle at them.

One of the vendors, a sweaty old man, tells Guardian Caldwell, approaching, "That's the boys who were muckin' round my grills!"
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell shakes his head "Nobodies touching them. They're headed to a Federation Jailcell on authority of The Guardians. That'll teach em' i'm sure." and with that he grabs both of them and throws one over each of his shoulders and begins heading to the nearest jail cell
James     "Grill's!" James stomps up with a pissed off look of determination.
Percy     As he departs to get his icy cold soda, Percy does give a glance back to Caldwell - curious on how he will act on all the events that have transpired in the span of three minutes. While there is some curiosity about how it will all end, it's not enough to stop him from looking for some tasty beverages.
James      "These the sumbitches been messin with the damn grills?" he demands to know. "Of all the.." he starts to say before going silent and pacing back and forth. "These lil numbnuts tried to keep me from eatin?!" Crimson radiates from his face and sweat beads drip from his forehead down his cheeks. "Ery gawddamn one a dem grills was all busted up! How dare you get tween a man an his appetite. How dare you!" he hollers accusatorily.
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell begins searching their persons in front of the crowd. Looking them over VERY THOROUGHLY for evidence that can be used for imprisonment. He brings forth evidence pieces towards the duo "We have multiple pieces of evidence of you tampering with the equipment of the townsfolks, causing trouble, and multiple accounts of general douchebaggery. I will ask this once. Do you plead guilty or not guilty?" he begins calling forth the witness in the form of the man whos fingers were blown off, the red faced merchant, and the grill, and the rifle that were both tampered with. "We can put you away for a VERY long time if I really wanted to. I am good friends with the colonel. And the Major. Would you like to spend your life behind bars, boys?" he asks curiously, looking down at them through his visored helmet.
Davidson "...pardon me," Davidson clears his throat as he steps fromt he crowd near to where Caldwell's threatening the pair, having disappeared for a bit earlier, "I've been talking to several vendors. Just about every one I talked to... right after these boys were there? They realized they'd been robbed." A smirk twitches to his lips, "So I've got a bunch more witnesses if you need them."
Beefrow More evidence is provided by Guardian Caldwell, in the form of a wrench one of the boys dropped, and it might catche James' attention, covered in different types of paint along the blunt back of it, where it's all scratched up.

There's a small crowd growing, as Shantytown is privy to the justice laid down by Guardian Caldwell. Through the search, he's revealed that these boys are actually Vault Dwellers, pretending to be from El Dorado topside. After prodding, and the threat of jail, they plead for mercy, trying to champion the cause of fairness, "Shantytown has walls now, and the laws say, they have to pay taxes!"

With all of the complaints Davidson rounds up, it's no wonder the boys have a small fortune in caps, they plead they /did/ steal, but didn't damage any property. "You have the caps back! So what does it matter?"
James $tAs if to add insult to injury, James pipes in with, "Also seen tha lil whipper snapper drop a damn wrench." He points at the red haired boy and says, "Yeah you! That wrench looks zactly like what busted dem grills up."
Guardian Caldwell Caldwell proceeds to hand them over to the town Militia "If they pay taxes, it certainly isn't going to be to people like you." he mutters. "Make sure these boys get what's coming to them in prison." after returning the stolen belongings to their rightful owners he sighs to himself and dusts off his hands "That handles that."
Beefrow Between eye witness testimony, multiple pieces of evidence, and an eventual confession, the final nail in the coffin is laid. Guardian Caldwell is cheered on, hit on, and thanked, with lesser adoration but more food and beer for James', as they helped keep Wall Day a celebration. It will surely become a tradition. A new arm-wrestling champion is hailed, and many left with a wild tale to tell from their time in Shantytown.
James     After the comotion dies down the mullet shark once again roams the crowd. The occasional return to the now open bar can be seen and as the night wears on James thinks more and more about the Scientists of El Dorado. Eventually he even manages to kick up a conversation with someone about the aesthetic value of intelligence versus it's deep rooted functionality.