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Jackson The skies were cloudy oover Parkes Point today. The walls of grey swirling in the sky were a prime indicator of the storms that were to come, but for the time being, the weather was holding off, leaving a thick coat of humidity in the air as it prepared to throw it's rains down on the wasteland. In spite of the heat, Parkes Point was a bustle of activity. The Vertibird had just landed on the nearby landing pad, and a group of militia soldiers were currently loading the vessel up for one of it's many trips destined toward the Corvalis plant out west. As the volunteers approached the humble rural town, Jackson could be seen directing the militiamen, and hefting crate after crate of supplies onto the aircraft while he passed the time. Soon enough, he turned his head toward the gathered group, and shifted his duster on his shoulders, walking over to them with a friendly wave of greeting.

"Hey there, Tibbie." He greeted, offering the pregnant woman a friendly hug in greeting as he turned to the less-familiar faces.

"I don't believe we've had the courtesy of an introduction. I'm Jackson Parkes. EDSD Marshal, Foreman of the Corvalis plant out west, and mayor of Parkes Point. I imagine you two are here regarding my job about the garage?" At the mention of the garage, he waved his hand over toward the structure in question, nodding firmly.
"It's a bit.. Full of shit, to put it simply. There's a ton of scrap and garbage we need to get out of there."
Dag Dag Arrives to the settlement, holding his arms above his head in a triangle-style like an "A". "he smiles broadly and calls to the guardians loudly to let them know he's not a cannibalistic savage. Approaching the Marshal, he smiles broadly, waving his hands genially, and says, "So happy to meet you, Marshal. His Lordship, Atom, has brought me to you here today to be his helping hands in your task."
Nell Nell stood casually amongt the others that arrived to also offer a hand in aid in exchange for resources. Important for some but the Gearhead was eying the departing crates with interest. After the origanizer had introduced themselves, the woman lifted her hand in a casual wave. "Pleasure Marshal. The name's Nell." Her chin raises in the direction towards the garage. "Where's it gonna end up?"
Dag Dag sweats profusely in the humidity. His skin appears to be leaking in places. "I'd uh, offer to shake your hand," he says, wiping his right palm on the side of his tattered, filth-caked robe, "but I'm a bit more of a dry weather and sunshine guy." he smells like a dead deathclaw on an anthill at noon.
Tibbie Tibbie is here with her baby Deathclaw Tibba and a plate of her mother's famous sourdough sugar cookies. She beams after hugging Jackson, happy to see him and the oncoming help.
"And I'm Tibbie Gaines y'all, the advertising aint say nothing bout cookies but well I thought I could sweeten the deal after working out in this weather!" she chimes and pats her baby deathclaw, "And don't mind lil Tibba here, he's friendly." she reassures the group.
Jackson "Glad to see you're doing so well, Tibbs. Definitely glad to eat your food." At that, young Jack deftly grabbed a cookie off of the offered plate, chewing it to bits and swalloing it at the speed of light. Afterward, he wiped a bit of sweat off of his own brow, and smoothed out the bandana covering his hair before greeting each of the newcomers in kind.

"Glad to have you here, honestly, I am. It's nice to know that the good lord Atom is shining down upon me." With a chuckle, he extended a hand to the ghoul, seeming to have no issue with the man's smell, appearance, or sweatiness. "You're certainly not the first ghoul to make my acquaintance, and I'm sure you won't be the last. No worries, I don't bite. As for the junk..." The marshal turned away from them for a moment, and led them over to the garage in question, where he fidgeted with a lock on the garage's door for a moment. After a few seconds passed, he managed to disengage the lock, and allow the door to swing slowly upward, revealing the explosion of scrap, garbage and junk clogging the interior of the place.

"We're gonna get it all out of here, and stacked over by the landing pad, in the area over to the left that's designated for temporary storage. There, we can sort through it, and see if there's anything useable that's been buried up in here for 200 years. At least I already cleared the ghouls out of the place. They can be a bit.. Abbrasive, in their current condition." After his brief explanation, Jack himself got to work, walking into the door, grabbing an armful of miscellanious papaer and cardboard garbage, then carelessly throwing it into a small stack outside against the wall.

"We'll worry about moving the pile after we've got a bit more room in this place."
Dag Dag rolls up his sleeves, and begins working on a section on the debris and junk. he starts methodically pulling down items from the top, stacking them precariously in his arms, and setting them into small piles organized by seeming texture or building components. Scrap metal, wood, and miscellaneous textiles begin to form mounds in the sorting area.
Dag Dag pulling down a particularly heavy engine component, Dag questions the Marshal, "Get a couple more garages like this and you might have a whole '75 Corvalis minus a tire or rear fin!"
Nell Nell kept both hands tucked in the rear pockets of pants, wholly avoiding any contact with the man of faith. To the others she just nodded as they made their introductions then Jackson explained the goals. "Two hundred years?" A faint whistle passed through her lips as she started for the garage to begin. "Might find a few things salvageable." She remarks while targeting items she has the ability to actually pick up and not struggle with carring.
Tibbie The pregnant woman leans on the wall and gives Tibba a matronly swat and points to the garage, "Go on and give em a hand now baby."

The deathclaw caws quietly and begins to drag and fumble with things in the garage, eventually getting them out. Tibbie cheers him and slips him bites of her cookie occasionally.

"I sure enjoy seeing fresh faces out here, even if they aint actually fresh lookin." she chuckles from her own joke but seems genuine about what she said
Jackson As the group got started, Jack took a brief moment to walk back over to the Ranch House, where he hastily retrieved a duo of tall, clear bottles filled with caramel colored liquid. Putting one under his arm, he gathered up a few steel cups that he'd gathered over the past weeks, and brought the items back over to the garage, pouring out drinks for everyone, then downing his own with a sigh of satisfaction. At Nell and Felix's words, he responded in a relaxed manner, casually digging a bit of garbage out of the garage's interior as he did so.

"Yeah, I've still got a lot to clear out around here on top of this place, too. The old barn across the grasslands south of the landing pad is full of crap, too. As is are a lot of the standing buildings around here. It's gonna be a lot of work, but we should definitely find at least something nice in the mix. This place was basically untouched when I first got here. Won the deed in a high stakes poker game on the strip, and came to find out that the guy handed it off so easily because it was filled to the brim with ferals." At the memory, Jackson shivered a bit, gesturing toward the remains of a burn pile near the corner of the weed-infested farmland.

"You could say that I took care of them, though. The ones that I couldn't transport down over to Doc's lab, anyway."
Dag Dag after taking down a few awkward boxes, comes up on a large, grossly-heavy bit of machinery. He leans over, grunting and dragging it out of the garage in a low squat. "Fresh, eh, that was a while ago. I don't even think I could have been freshly pickled a hundred years ago. But lemme tell you, you never get too old to appreciate a bit of manual labor!" he stops to take the drink, sitting on the metal block for a moment, before turning back to it, giving it another heave into the storage area, and picking up the right pinky finger that pops off, just barely snatching it from the baby deathclaw.
Nell Even though some of the old and degrading papers were destined for kindling, probably, Nell tried to make out anything writings or prints upon them. The baby Deathclaw also helping out was cautiously watched from the corners of her eyes. When Jackson returned with drinks Nell was dropping a pile of papers onto the discard mound. "What's in the cups?" She lifts the tin to her nose, sniffing the contents within and just in time to witness the ghoul's pinky pop rigth off of him. She couldn't mask the disgust if she tried.
Jackson As Jack worked, he couldn't help but notice his new ghoul volunteer struggling with a paricularly heavy piece of machinery. So, without hesitation, he walked over to the man, using his own strength to help him lift it completely-- only to see the man's finger pop off at the knuckle.

"Oh, shit. Well, that's not good." First, he helped the man get the heavy engine out of the garage, then, he pulled out a roll of medical tape and suture wire from his bag, gesturing at the ghoul to sit still. As he did so, he turned toward Nell, who was sniffing at her cup, and gave her a nonchalant grin.

"The only drink that matters in Parkes Point, ma'am. That's good ol' fashion pre-war whiskey."
Tibbie Casually Tibbie tsks at Tibba, getting his attention, "We aint eat people parts, remember?" she motherly mentions to him in her usual southerner drawl. She finds a more proper place to sit now, sitting on a salvaged chair that was hiding. Tibbie also looks to Jackson about the drinks' contents, and she nods, passing on his refreshments for now. Her platter of cookies now resting partially on her minor baby bump and the assistance of her hand.

"Since the attack well, momma's cookies aint taste the same. I really oughta set out and travel out soon to my uncle. I sure hope he's still alive.." she thinks aloud, her smile dimming a bit as her thoughts get a bit dark.
Dag Dag blankly stares at the Marshal as his finger gets re-attached. he casually examines the man before asking: "What do they feed you out here that you can lift a Corvega transmission like a 12-pack of Nuka-Cola?"
Jackson The marshal quickly got to work reattaching the ghoul's loose appendange, using his self-learned skills in patching up his own wounds to hastily and effortlessly suture the finger back to the hand without much issue. He retrieved a small patch of gauze afterward, wrapping the finger quickly, then secured the fluff with an improvised cloth bandage and a piece of medical tape. After doing so, he released the man's hand, responding to his question with a grin.

"Oh, you know. A bowl of sugar bombs every morning, a tall glass of Nuka Cola with lunch. Push ups, sit ups, and plenty of mutefruit juice. I've gotten around a bit. Definitely easier with two people, that's for sure." When Tibbie spoke up, he dug his palm into his face, quickly excusing himself, running back into the Ranch House, and returning with a pre-cooled bottle of purified water in one hand, a nuka cola in the other. He offered Tibbie the water, and placed the Nuka Cola with the other drinks, listening to Tibbie's words with a grim expression making it's way onto his face.

"I'm sure he's fine, Tibbie. I've been doing my best to get out and check on the folks that live out in the boonies. From what i've gathered, it seems as though most of the people outside of the more populated settlements had better luck than most. If you need the help getting out there, I've always got an open seat in my sidecar. Wouldn't want ya' gettin' into trouble on your way out there, considering." At his words, Jack gestured toward Tibbie's bump, smiling slightly and tilting his shades down a bit on his nose.

"Got any ideas on names?"
Dag Dag cradles the busted finger, nodding approvingly at the ranger's work before taking a strip of cloth from his robe, wrapping-the finger into the palm of his hand to secure it, and returning to work emptying the garage of debris. "I think you might be a little modest with those workout plans and that diet, but hey, I appreciate the free gauze. Clean cloth ain't cheap these days."
Nell Nell stared a the whiskey filled cup a little longer before returning it back down upon the table. "I'm good." Resuming her work she's actively avoiding watching the ghoul get mended and kept her eyes averted.
Dag Dag rummages through the piles, pleading with Atom to provide some 'boon' of junk. "Jack, you got any plans for this old garage? Or is this old garage just some more defilade for your Ranch?
Tibbie "Thank you kindly Jack!" Tibbie says while accepting the water and takes a sip.
"I aint real too far along to had that thought yet, but I'm sure maw'll want something with both our names in it, or something real classic. I'm jus hoping the lil thing pops out without too much pain on me!" Tibbie chuckles.

"I aint much mucle myself, but hard work's always a good start." She offers to the conversation.

Tibba's been wobbling about still, getting a bit distracted by his reflection in chrome bits of junk while pushing things out of the garage. For a fledgling two foot tall abomination of man, he sure has more focus than a human child. Tibba and Tibbie's eyes meet frequently throughout the job and she finally calls him off, he crawls onto her lap for cuddles, although she makes sure his claws are safe for it of corse and moving the platter of cookies to a nearby surface.
Jackson Jack noddedin response to Nell's decline, and shrugged, taking up her cup and taking a drink of it himself. Afterward, he placed it back down, taking a closer look at the garage's interior. They were already making a great deal of progress in getting it all out. The scrap metal, wood, broken tools, and loose paper debris had all been sorted into their own respective piles, the worthless garbage was in one of it's own, and the place was already looking a hell of a lot better than it did when they started. When he noticed as much, Jackson put the cup back down on the ground near the garage's wall, and strolled into the place, sighing audibly. He fixed his attention on the massive, bent and broken hydraulic lift that dominated the center of the room, and removed his tools from his back, taking a knee next to the machine in question before beginning to loosen a series of bolts from it's base. He used a mixture of tools, but primarily, he had removed some sort of laser-cutter from his kit that looked like nothing either of the newcomers had seen in the wasteland up to this point. As he cut the bolts free of their holding with a beam of bright green light, he explained the tool's origins.

"Alien tech, found it on the mothership. Long story-- you'll probably think it's bullshit, but I can show you the wreckage. Any of you guys mind helping a man out here? Grab a tool out of the kit, get these bolts stripped from the base here, and after it's loose, we'll knock the fucker down and drag it out of here. I've got plans to repair this thing. Barring that, it'll make for a nice bundle of scrap metal. Hopefully I can fix it, though. It'd be a nice little addition to this place-- for utility's sake, anyway. As for my plans? I'd just like to get this thing back in working order. I'm a bit of a mechanic, and could really use a nice place to work on folks' vehicles. Bikes, trucks, whatever. Lately i've been doing a lot of tinkering on the few working motors that we've got in El Dorado, doing my best to boost their efficiency and make them a little bit more sturdy. A functioning garage with functioning tools would make that a lot easier to do."
Nell Nell discovers a few items of interest and seems to be grossly involved with examining some long abandoned technology. A toaster though anything of value had already been stripped away. She's digging further and further into the garage, off in her own world to see what she could use.
Dag Dag grabs another power-tool from the kit, working on the opposite side of Jack and trying not to break the extremely-expensive and probably-irreplaceable tool in his grubby hands. After a few minutes , he nudges the base to make sure all the retaining bolts are loose from the frame of the jack. "I think it might be good over here - you want to disassemble the frame too or move it all in one big piece?"
Jackson As the duo worked, Jack was acutely focused on his efforts, being careful not too damage the bolts beyond recognition with his laser. That way, they'd be able to repurpose the heads and shafts for other uses, if not reassemble them outright with a bit of creative laser welding. At the ghoul's request, Jack nodded toward him in the affirmative, wipping a layer of sweat off of his brow. He removed his duster, hanging it on the open garage's nearby doorway, and returned to his work, considering the man's request with interest.

"Y'know.. That's not a bad idea. Certainly beats the hell out of my idea. I was just going to wrap the fucker up in chains, and drag it out with my bike. But that sounds a lot more intelligent, and a hell of a lot easier. Maybe we should." With that said, the marshal busied himself with examining the lift's frame, doing his best to decipher just where it was that all of the pieces connected to one another. He made gradual progress, removing a few more bolts and screws, but was taking his time in doing so, lest he damage the equipment he was working with.

"I swear to god if this thing has any functional hydraulic tubing, I'll piss my pants. Can't tell you how useful that shit can be."
Dag Dag moves over to a cross-section holding the arms of the jack together. "I'll hold this part while you get the bolts out, then i think we'll have the arms off and we can move it in 3 pieces."
Jackson The group's efforts continued much in the same manner. Jack, Felix, and Nell, with as much assistance from Tibbie that she could offer, did their best in clearing out the rest of the garage, and disassembling what remained of the lift's frame. It was slow, monotonous work, but in time, they managed to get the hefty machine out into the street in three sizeable pieces, which were then transported over to the Ranch House, where Jack could tinker with it in his spare time. After doing so, they continued their duties, transferring all of their miscellanious junk piles from the garage, over to the landing pad, where the militiamen began to sort it out into piles of useable, and unuseable material. As they did so, Jack thanked the volunteers for their efforts in the only way he saw fit-- a slap on the back, a genuine word of thanks, and a modest handful of 50 caps for each of them. It wasn't much in the grand scheme, but he wanted to show them his gratitude in any way that he could. Hopefully, he'd be seeing more of Nell and the religious ghoul in the coming days-- they seemed like genuine, good people. Which was a hard thing to find in the Mojave.