|Jackson||The depest depths of the scrapyard were much unlike the outskirts. Where the majority of the piles had been picked clean from the outermost areas, the area which had been dubbed, 'Chrome Mountain' by the denizens of Roswell was a treasure trove of useable junk. It was a beautiful day for the thrill of scavenging, too-- the sun was shining brilliantly in the sky, and there wasn't a single cloud obscuring the sight of the deep blue horizon over the New Mexico wasteland. The group had been stumbling hap-hazardly through the junkyard for a while now, destined for Chrome Mountain insearch of tools for El Dorado's gunsmiths. With the influx of citizens willing to take up arms to defend the Federation, the craftsmen were working their hands to the bone in an attempt to distribute weapons to the townspeople. But as things tend to go, their supplies were running dangerously short as the demand for weaponry and modifications increased. So, in order to do the lovely guys down on Main street a favor, Jack led a group of volunteers to this place in an attempt to secure them enough tools to last for the forseeable future.
"As much as I'm always here, I never get used to the smell." The deputy mused with over-exaggerated disgust. Ladyfingers pulled an empty scrap-cart behind them, and he led the group, fully armored, eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.
"I mean, it's half the junk, half the ghouls. The further you get into this place, the worse and worse you get that lovely scent of rotten flesh caught in your nostrils. It's.. Fantastic."
|Franky||:Franky's blue gaze examined the sun for a breif second, mind wandering about floating up above looking at red-headed girls behind an air ships controls. Jackson's stench comment brought him back to reality, he sighed and hefted the M60 into a nook of his arm. He stepped over some tubular piece of scrap, "Wonder how well ghouls smell cigarettes?" Franky mused, he scanned the mountain of scraps. "Best not to risk it, but as you say...it stinks."
He paused a moment before hopping forward grabbed his ass with his with his support hand and gave the empty-area behind him a death stare. "...I'm paying attention.." He whispered with a hiss as he began to trudge onward.
|Tibbie|| Tibbie's here with the group today, the thoughtful gal she is and all. She's decked out in her second hand Militia gear and her reliable hookshot. She nods, pinching her nose, "Yer right about that boss, but we got people dependin on us." she adds. She then hookshots a short distance ahead,
"LET GIT'R DONE!" She exclaims with a laugh, although she sounded a little silly with her nose still pinched.
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane hadn't planned to go junkyard scrounging today. Not originally. But she had seen the Deputy heading out and decided it wouldn't hurt to go along. Extra eyes and another gun hand can never hurt when there are certain to be ghouls and even wild animals perhaps. She held her pistol in hand, eyes constantly moving around looking for danger.|
|Jackson||As they continued their advance, and Tibbie swung on ahead of them, Jack couldn't help but smirk at their enthusiasm. He was always happy to be among familiar faces on these supply runs. Not only for the added protection, but for the casual commodity that was friendly conversation. He didn't get nearly enough of that these days-- he was always working his ass from one end of the wasteland to the other, and in that time, he spent a majority of his time with less-than familiar faces. So, when he had these oppurtunities, he took advantage of them. He pulled his hand away from his nose with a smirk that as hidden by his mask, but continued onward, giving Ladyfingers a casual pat on the mane as they continued to cut through the scrap. They called this place chrome mountain as a result of the inumerale amount of cars and supply trucks which had been located in this area. Their hubcaps and bare frames shined as much as rusted steel could in the sunlight, and that reflected light danced along the hundreds of reflective steel surfaces laying about this section of the scrap. As the trail the group followed began to slope downward, Jackson paused at the sight of something that was never welcome.
"Shit." As the word filtered through his voice modulaters, the glowing one which Jackson had laid his eyes on turned it's irradiated eyes toward the deputy's ominous figure. For the briefest instant, the two shared an intense, hateful gaze. For a moment, the creature looked as if it was about to turn and walk the other way. Instead, it roared it's feral battle cry, and the sound send chills reverberating through the deputy's armored shell.
At the sound, a veritable cloud of feral ghouls came barreling out of the mismatched piles of scrap to flock toward their would-be leader. A single group of four ghouls scampered to the glowing one's side, and the group could hear a similar sort of feral bellowing echoing up the trail from behind them. It seemed as though they'd goten locked into a situation they wouldn't be easily finding their way out of.
"Lock and load, folks!" Jackson shouted with a snarl, standing his ground in an attempt to block the ferals' path toward his horse.
"Protect that cart at all costs! We'll take care of the ferals, and then we'll push deeper!"
|Jackson||The deputy's reaction time was impeccable as always. At the sight of the glowing one and it's allies, the man's first reaction was to take a confident step forward whilst simultaneously swinging his shotgun off of his back. As his weapon's barrel fell into his hands, he squeezed the trigger, sending a flurry of white-tinged magnetic buckshot directly into the ghoul's head. The flesh on it's face and scalp were torn asunder as the rounds made contact, and rivers of rotted, glowing green blood poured in streaks down the creature's face as Jack prepared his second shot. The next group of shrapnel went wide as a neon green wave of radiation exploded outward from the glowing ghoul, and afterward, it charged directly into Franky's path, digging one of it's irradiated claws against the man's chest. Soon afterward, the group of ghouls which flanked it charged toward Jackson, attempting to strike him in vain. The deputy's speed was just to much for them.
Soon enough, the sound of the ferals roaring from behind them closed in further and further, until they were on the brink of hopping into the small clearing themselves. It would be mere seconds before the creatures made their presence known.
|Franky|| Franky focused on the stare off that was happening between Jackson and The glowing one. Taking the opportunity to level his M60, and about that time a gang of ghouls group up to support George. Franky grinned, letting a hose of hot lead spew into the Glowing one, and then shifting his aim to spit more rounds into the gang of gathered flesh bags.
The grinning stopped when the gang charged Franky, "Shit!" He allowed before being stuck hard in the torso, he growned feeling a warm wetness spreading on his trunk.
|Salvation Jane||As the ghouls charge toward the search party, Jackson and Franky take their shots. Jane lifts her pistol and fires a double shot toward the glowing one but misses. Switching to the group of ghouls, she fires a burst if incendiary rounds. They strike one of the ghouls, bursting it into flames.|
|Tibbie|| Tibbie had swung herself into a pickle barrel full of ghouls before anyone else had time to back her up! How dreadful! But our loveable shortstack Tibbie had kicked off a few groping ghoulies and popped that hookshot again, back to the group where she needed to be in the first place!
"I'm commin hooome!" She announces and thuds her feet to the ground with a running momentum as she fights out the force of hookshots trip.
She gives her party a quick nod and slings the hookshot into her shorts' belt loop and jimmies out her Louisville Slugger from the other belt loop.
"Well looky-looky, we got some ghoulie asses to bash!" she spits on her hands and grips the bat hard, ready for those big baddies!
|Franky|| Franky checks to confirm that he is indeed bleeding, a curse escapes his lips as he sees bloody fingers from his right front flank. "Thanks." He offers, directed to probably both Sal and Jackson as they perform violence. He fight through the though of blood loss and infection, leveling his precious M60 once more and making her bark. The muzzle spits gray smoke in the daytime light, bullets burping and slapping well-aged ghoul meat. The decayed bodies slump to the ground as nether rigions and dome-pieces are penetrated.
Franky takes a moment to yell probably from the pain. He listens and moves to the back of the group. "Contact to the rear!" He drops to a knee and readys his MG once more. "Should be coming around the corner of the Car frames and hubcaps!"
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane turns as the first wave of ghouls is taken down. Seeing the second group, she turns and fires right into George the glowing one's chest and her pistol makes the telltale sound of the clip emptying and the slide locking back.|
|Tibbie|| One of those hideous smelly ghouls charges at Tibbie! It scratches her exposed stomach, hoping to get a chunk out of her.
"NOT TODAY GHOULIE!" Tibbie trumpets and takes a good ol 'Murican swing at the zombified bastard right across the side of it's decaying piehole, crushing it's little noggin right into itself and it falls like a heapin bag of Idaho potatoes! With the other gaggles of ghouls swarming about Tibbie does her best to defend herself, using her bat and her little upper body strength to fend them off.
|Jackson||The scrapyard was a hurricane of radioactive flesh and discharging firearms. As Jackson was surrounded by the mindless ghouls, he violently swung the butt of his shotgun into the first's jaw, throwing it out of his field of vision, and exposing his true target-- the glowing one who'd dug it's mangy claws into his friend's chest. With a roar of rage, the deputy squeezed the trigger, and send another white-tinged handful of supersonic buckshot directly into the creature's left side. The rounds proved too much for it to handle, and it came apart with a last, sickly screech and a burst of radioactive ooze as it's body was reduced into a pile of glowing, mulched flesh and splintered bone. Franky's response was near-instantaneous-- with another volley from his M60, the ghouls surrounding Jackson fell in exploding blossoms of flesh and blood.
They didn't earn much rest, though. Franky's shout alerted Jack to the presence of the other ghouls-- he'd forgotten their raspy, distant screams in the wake of the glowing one's presence, and it had now been joined by another of it's kind, and two more groups of feral corpses. One group of four charged Jane, the other Tibbie. Unfortunately for the latter, she was slammed with a claw to the chest by one of her attackers. Jack didn't have time to help her though-- she could take care of herself, and there were bigger fish to fry at the moment. The deputy's eyes locked on the bright, radioactive eyes of the glowing one who'd watched his allies charge toward Jack's own, and the armored man began a reckless charge of his own. He closed the gap between them with blinding speed, but as he swung his weapon toward the creature's head, it nimbly ducked his blow with grace the deputy hadn't expected. Graceful as it was, however, it was no match for the raw speed of Jackson Parkes. Without so much as a momen'ts hesitation, as he brought his shotgun back to his shoulder, he slid his finger against the weapon's charging module, and let loose an overcharged blast of microshrapnel directly into the creature's abdomen. The rounds tore through it's flesh effortlessly, spilling it's glowing entrails and blood against the ground at Jackson's feet. As the buckshot impacted the glowing one, it let loose an enraged, pained screech that nearly shattered the deputy's ear drums before it was silenced with a burst of Franky's M60.
|Ashur|| Ashur winds his way through the sprawl of refuse; like an old-world pioneer, he cleaves a path through the aluminum wilderness with aplomb. It's a canyon of burnt metal and old plastics -- and he thunders along, lead-footed, stomp, stomp, stomp, gold-threaded toga clinging to his stone-carven figure like a veiling of drapery. At his side pads the ever-loyal Dogmeat, the golden spikes of his collar shining off reflected light. "She said they were coming this way, Dogmeat," he rumbles, reaching down to scratch behind the canine's ears. "And so we march, stalwart."
At this, he hears the roaring report of firearms, the shamble of limbs, human and near-human cries; he is at the slope that the group themselves descended early on, feeling himself be pushed ahead by the weight of their history and the claustrophobic press of the piles around him.
He pauses, takes a few steps, and can see now the group in the distance. A few recognized, eyes lingering on the small and shapely Tibbie, who from afar is more silhouette than person -- he hums, and leans against an old television set, watching it all go down. He wraps his heavy cloak around him.
"Alright, boy, take a break. They're having fun."
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane reloads her pistol swiftly reloads her pistol as the Ghouls close in on her. She raises the weapon anf fires at them, the two rounds exploding huge holds in the torsos of two of them.|
|Franky|| The group of ghouls that convurged into the scarp clearing surprised Franky. He had to stand from the number of them incase he got surrounded, and in that moment then charged. Ghouls streaming past to attack Tibbie and Jane, not much a guy can do with his trusty M60 but shoot the only glowing target out there. The glowing one was already getting the business from Jackson's Gauss shotty. Franky greets his teeth, braces his body, and depresses the trigger on Katrina. The recoil gyrates in his arms, forcing them to tighen and adjust the second burst.
Rounds impact scrap heaps behind Georgie before his fire corrects and dumps into Georgie and drops the Ghoul proper.
|Ashur|| The scent of ghoul draws an angry growl from Dogmeat, whose ears flatten as his teeth bare. "Easy, boy," his Master instructs, beginning the slow walk down. Given his size, and his garb, such a shimmering mix of white-gold it's as if he struck blows to the sun and wove the shards, it won't be hard to notice him from afar..
But he is sufficiently distant from the battle, and his posture sufficiently relaxed, that it is apparent he has no intention of getting himself involved. He does, however, cup a hand around his mouth and lift one arm to wave, calling out, "Nice hit, Tibbie!", when he sees her crack a ghoul in the head. "The rest of you are.. adequate."
A little unfair.
|Tibbie|| Tibbie in the fray of ghouls tries to swing her bat again at the incoming animate garbage with teeth, but misses several times! She cheers on her teammates while doing her best to keep her own limbs attached!
During the course of battle the team works up a sweat and pile of shell casings as they pick off most of the ghouls, even Tibbie gets another good swing into some ghoul brains, and not too long after the group is free to take a breather and head closer to chrome mountain. Tibbie runs happily to Ashur in the distance,
"Thanks Jefecito!" she replies and hugs him, than ruffles Dogmeat's scruff.
|Franky||Franky shifts his eyes from person to person, everybody having fought their own battle here. Dropping to one knee he touches the barrel of his M60, pulling his hand away from the heat. His brow furrows, "No need to get hot, and bothered now." Franky coos, a hand disappears under his armor and returns still bloody. "More blood for the blood god." He frowns, pulling a pack of gauze from his trouser pocket and peeling it open. "Watch I'll end up getting Ghoul rabbies." He winches as he packs the wound under his armor with the gauze, then stands to his feet. "Well, lets do the damn thing."|
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane turns as the others finish off the rushing ghouls coming for them. THe gore is no less than anyone is used to in this situation. She turns, looking around is a slow sweep of the area. It's quiet again. She reloads her pistol but does not holster it. She does, however, reach back to loosen the sling on her shotgun. A girl never knows when she'll get into another party like this and should be ready.
Looking to Jackson, Franky and Tibbie and remarks dryly, "Well you certainly know how to show the new girl a good time. Barely here a week and already something of an accomplished ghoul killer." She nods to Franky's "Let's."
|Ashur|| The dog wags happily, and Ashur leans down to scoop Tibbie off the ground, biting at her lip before setting her back down. His hand comes down to pat her head, scritch-scratch, the feel of the cool metal of his gauss fist upon her scalp -- perhaps not the most comforting hand to be touched with, given the sheer ballistic force contained within.
"Mm. Well, it seems you're all fine.. here, boy, listen. Go with Tibbie. Keep an eye out for this crowd while they work, got it?"
Dogmeat barks, and Ashur ruffles behind his ears, pivoting on a heel with a regal swish of over-dramatic cape. "Atta boy. I have a visit with that Roswell DJ to attend to. Tibbie, when you've finished, meet me at the station."
Ashur storms off... but pauses, as he walks past one of the glowing ones. He looks down at it, strokes fingers through his silvering beard..
And then, flipping it onto its stomach, he stomps his boot at the base of the skull, where it joins the spinal column; he hunches over, wrapping both hands around it; and he rips, tearing the flesh and severing muscle and tendon, holding the odd-colored head and its spine aloft.
"Good size, good shape.. good."
Now he leaves.
|Tibbie|| Tibbie beams up at Ashur and nods, enjoying his affection,
"Alrighty Jefecito! Cmon Meaty-Boy!" she chimes and rejoins the group.
She grips her hookshot, but returns it, not wanting another repeat of earlier, plus dogmeat wouldn't be able to take a ride either. They approach the scrap heap and Tibbie starts to clink and clang around the edges, looking for anything useful.
"At the top maybe? Hey new girl, wanna give her a whirl?" she offers her hookshot to Jane,
"Might get a grin on that face." she entices her.
|Franky||Finding a good spot near the base of Chrome mountain, Franky clears off bits of wire and old electric motors from the trunk of a wrecked car. He turns and leans against it, letting his bloody hand dive into a pouch at his chest rig. He retrieves his pack of smokes and places one in his mouth, watching with mild curiousity as Ashur pops the top of one of the dead glowing ones. "Good idea, sell them to tourists as shoulder drapes or such." He half mumbles through his cigarette, a flame sparks from a stick and his already puffing smoke.
He turns around and begins trying to pry open the truck of the wrecked car. "Any big plans for modding your guy's heaters, with the stuff we find?"
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane laughs. "Well let's get out of here before we plan on spending our hard won gain hmm?" She keeps a constant look out as they wait on Jackson calm his horse and bring in the cart after the fight.|
|Franky||An old rusted locking mechanism groans in metallic before releasing with a satisfing pop. Franky's lungs inhale a deep drag from his cigarette, letting the cloud of cancerous fumes vent and carry in a passing breeze. "Welp." He dives in and rummages around, grabbing what looks like tooks and can be handy. "Nothing like the present circumstances to look forward to the future." He turns and tries to navigate the shallow slope down near the base of the hill of scrap. "How you holding up over there, Jane?" He asks, before mostly foot-sliding down the hill, a grin as he walks to a clear spot and drops the potentially useful things he dug up. A pause as he takes a final drag and tosses the remaining cigarette.|
|Salvation Jane||Salvation Jane glances to the scrap, "Sure. Jackson will be here soon enough anyway." She turns and begins rummaging through the massive pile that has been the seeming holy grail to this area. The various things she finds of use for her own projects she sets into a small pile. "I'm doing well I think, Franky. How's the bite? You need to get it looked at once we're back?"|
|Franky||A cough and then Franky clears his throat, "I'll dress it up soon as we're out of this irradiated heap. We're all probably going to need a something for the free radicals we're absorbing right now any how." He stops and looks up at the blue sky again to day dream for a minute. A quizical glance is then thrown over his right shoulder, he shutters as if a chill ran down his body. A pause before he makes the climb up the heap once more, "Jackson mentioned you have a radio station?" He labors a little as he nears large car covered in scrap, the front windshield and hood the only exposed part. "Who's manning the station while your out here?"|
|Jackson||As the dust cleared and the violence died down, Jackson was left huffing and puffing over the dismembered corpse of the glowing one who'd Franky so efficiently slaughtered. The heat was baking him to the core inside of his armor, and his mask was restricting his air intake just a bit too much for his taste. So, he carefully peeled the mask off, revealing his glasses, and collapsed the lower half of the suit's face guard with a deep inhalation of fowl-scented air. The deputy twisted his features up for a moment as if he was about to puke, but wrangled his stomach in a moment afterward as he walked away from the ghoul corpses. Ladyfingers, having been used to all of the gunfire that came alongside travelling with jack, still stood idly by next to the cart, wagging her tail happily. The deputy whispered something into the creature's ear, then with a gentle pat to her flank, she started pulling the cart over toward the stretch of scrap that was chrome mountain. As they walked toward the scrap, Jack sighed, and glanced over his surroundings. They still had a long day of work ahead of them, and it wasn't looking any easier now than it did before the ghouls had been slain. As he approached a particularly sizeable pile of crap, he noticed that Tibbie, Franky, and Jane had been a ways ahead of him already. While he'd been day-dreaming, they'd already gotten deep into the scrapping without him. So, pulling his horse along, he was sure to catch up to them as fast as he could manage, and start digging through the piles himself.
"Sorry 'bout that, ya'll. Got a little.. Caught up in my thoughts for a moment there. How's it comin' along?"
With that, the group continued their efforts in scavenging throughout the rest of the sunny day, and filled the cart to the brim with gunsmithing tools, broken weapons, and miscellanious internal mechanisms for both energy weapons and firearms for use in repair. Afterward, they secured the contents of the wagon, Jackson made sure that Franky sealed his wound up nice and tight, and the group made sure the supplies got back to El Dorado safely.