ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
Theme toggleSCENE LISTING SCENE SCHEDULE Scene Schedule RSS Feed
Owner Pose
Franky     Jack's town, the land-O'-Mercs, also know as a major shithole depending on who you ask. The sun had set, and night blanketed the sky, the town wasn't one to let that stop anything. Torches and a few working electric bulbs lit the way, in the streets people strode in various sorts of armament. The lounge was active, synthetic beats eminated from within.

    Franky emerged from a dark corner hands fiddling with his suits zipper. Smoke curling from an already lit cigarette. He stood in the light, balanced on one leg for a second to ensure full zip. He looked around for Aris and Yah, hoping he heard them when he said he had to drain the main vein. "Hm." He mumbled, wiping his hands on his poncho before taking the cigarette from his lips.
Yah "This is your show." Yahweh informs his best friend as he joins the man in the light, producing a flask from his robes and taking a short pull from it before offering it to the other man. "Benito oughtta be here too, figure he's cookin' up some or another scheme." The big man shrugs his shoulders in a careless gesture, "We got Sweet Thing with us at least, so there's that. Better to look at anyhow." A wry grin curls his mouth, though it dies quickly as he surveys the recent destruction brought on the small mercenary town at the hands of the Enclave.
Aris "Heard that." Perched on the corpse of a pre-war generator behind them, Aristide shakes a bit of sand out of her Stetson before settling it back on her head squarely. Ain't the desert a bitch? She glances at Franky. "Thought this place was teemin' with raiders. Ain't seen one yet," she muses, one corner of her lips turning up a bit like there's some inside joke to be had there. "Just a bunch of run-of-the-mill assholes." She stays alert, though, in this unfamiliar place with unfamiliar menfolk, her hand resting lightly on the Lucky revolver at her hip. Her face turns to Yahweh now, voice a little softer. "Got any smokes left? Gave you all mine."
Franky     Yah's words get a pondering glance from Franky, taking the flask and sticking his nose dangerously close to the mouth to take a wiff. A swig his taken and then the flask is returned. "Yeah..." He comments, his mind thinking up what kinda business Benito is hustling. Franky looks to Aris at the mention of sweet thing. "That and she scares off New Cali rangers." A grin, he turns and starts toward the lounge. "Merc's and raiders.....Not alot of differences between them." Franky chuckles at little at the asshole comment, "Sound like a lot of people who arn't afraid of being themselves..for better or for worse." Franky's path deviates from the main entrance, instead taking him around the side where a dim light and a metal door hide in the shadows.
Yah The small, dark-haired woman gets an appreciative grin as Yahweh slips the pack out, offering a single cigarette toward her before it gets stashed, along with his flask. "Glad to see you're back to your normal self, darling. Let's get this show on the road." He turns and follows after the other man, brows lifting as they opt for the side entrance. "This the part where we start getting shot at Frank? Or did you set up some sorta clandestine meeting?" His hand finds the hilt of his sword, a subconscious habit apparently, as he waits patiently in the dimness.
Aris The dark haired woman grins prettily at Franky's words, glancing to his robed companion. "Told ya I almost shot a guy the other day!" Fear her, Yahweh. Hopping down off the generator, Aris slips that single cigarette from Yah's hand, pouting a little and murmuring somewhat before following Franky around to the side of the lounge. Between her dark hat, dark hair, and dark denim jacket, she's harder to keep a good eye on in the shadows. "Yeah, except, a lot 'a people -shouldn't- be themselves," she murmurs behind Franky, side-eyeing some of the mangy-looking desperados they pass by. "Themselves suck."
Franky     Franky gives the metal door two good hammer blows with is left hand, his other one working pulls of his dying cigarette. He steps away and looks at the two figures in the dark, the dim light showing that stupid grin of his. "You guys look pretty cool right now." The grin fades, he drops the cigarette in front of himself before stepping on it.

    The a lurch of what sounds like a rather large metal bar just behind the door. A moment later it opens, light pouring out and a faint rythmic beat aswell. A shadow cutout appears before stepping out into the night. Buff and shirtless except for the dusty plate carrier he's sporting. He's wearing dark trousers and sandals, and a bald head. "This all the help you got, crayon man?" He says, looking from Franky to the others.
Yah "One at a time," Yahweh chides the little woman, "Count yourself lucky I'm not slapping your ass in front of all of the tough mercenaries." He snorts a little to himself, then settles in to wait. "I always look cool, Frankster." he says, moments before the door is opened. He peers intently past the man who steps out for a moment, before shaking his head, and then looks briefly baffled at the newcomer's introduction. "Sky's falling down and these idiots are having a party." He seems to think better of that, shaking his head a bit, "Actually not a bad idea." He looks to Franky and takes a step back, eye shifting sidelong to regard Aris for a moment, tracking appreciatively over the woman's form.
Aris Aristide sticks her tongue out at Yah, daring him wordlessly. But then they're at that metal door, and Aristide glances over Franky's shoulder at the bald guy, brows raised at his less than enthusiastic appraisal of the gathered party. "'Crayon man'," she whisper-laughs near Franky's ear, but otherwise leaves the talking to those two. Her mouth might get them in trouble.
Franky Bald dude who parties in sandals, looks at Yahweh when he mentions the sky falling. His face stone and careless, he leans to look past Franky at Aris. A slight smile appears before its stone again, he turns toward Yah, hands working a large pouch on his plate carrier. A pipboy 2000 is produced, "Sky never stops falling." Bald dude preaches, opening a port on his pipboy and motioning toward Yah's wrist. "Jack will be grateful y'all do this for us." The bald dude grin, "Losses and terminated contracts...hurts the party time in Jack's town."

    Franky tilts his head when Aris's whisper hits his ear. He thinks on her comment, maybe even borderline concerned. He just shrugs a little, his gaze fixed on Bald dude and Yah.
Yah With a soft frown marring his features, Yahweh steps away from the trio toward Sandals, one hand absently touching Aristide's waist as he goes. He presents his wrist to the man expectantly, "Just tell us who you need killing and make sure there's caps waiting for us when we get back." He intones gravelly, watching the man with an expectant look.
Aris Aris returns bald party dude's slight smile with a pretty one of her own, her itchy trigger finger caressing her loaded revolver like a lover. But then Yah's hand is on her waist, and the gesture that might serve to warn the bald man also manages to keep Aristide from doing anything stupid. "And beer," she adds to Yahweh's demands, gray eyes shifting to Franky. She's ready.
Franky     The list of demands are either missed or ignored, Bald Sandels is intent on finding cord on Yah's pipboy 3000 in the adjusting shadows outside of the lounge. He cringes on cheek before there a click and Yah's Pipboy groans in like an annoyed snail, the screne scrolling with data. A click. Then Bald Sandal uncouples and the cord of Yah's pip retracts, the data transfer ending in the image of a smiling/thumbs upping grin from the icon. "Well...Happy hunting." He turns and heads back toward the door, "Come find me, Babrah..When they're all cleared out."

    Franky was staring at Yah's pipboy throught out the transfer. "Mm, I gotta get me one of those..." He mumbled.
Yah Yah watches the data scroll through the terminal on his pipboy, nodding a few times and taking a step back. "We'll be back soon Sandals. Save some drugs for when we're done." He looks from Franky to Aris, then back, "Well, got the info. Let's hit it gang." He begins to walk away from Baldy and the party, one hand fishing out that pack of smokes as he goes.
Aris Everyone's face had been lit up green by the Pip-Boy screens, but when the deed is done, their faces are all cast back into darkness. Aris blinks away the resulting blindness. "Here," she muses, turning a bit to dig in the small leather bag slung across her back. She pulls out a 3000 much like Yah's and presses it to Franky's chest. "Merry fuckin' Christmas." With a grin, she turns to follow Yahweh away from the lounge and toward... well, wherever the hell they're going. "They tell ya what kind of raiders live out here?" she asks them, curiosity tinging her voice.
Franky     Bald guy, or as he's known Babrah, or as he's been nicknamed sandals, disappears into the light of the lounge. The metal door closing the parallel atmosphere back into shadows and assholes.

    Franky has a moment to smile before the pipboy get's gifted too him. He looks from Aris to Yah and then to the pipboy. Confused, he starts to follow after, fumbling with the pipboy.
Yah "Dead ones." Yahweh comments flippantly with regard to Aris's query, twiddling with a few dials on his wrist-computer between drags from the lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He shuffles toward the entrance of the town that's seen better days, even before it was recently bombed. "Feels good to be doing something aside from watching the Brotherhood shine their metal asses."
Aris The Pip-Boy 3000 Aris had given Franky is in pretty darn good shape, despite a pre-fall sparkly pony sticker on the cuff that must be integral to its structural integrity because Aristide has tried to file it off but just never managed. "That the only kind of raider you know, Yah? Dead ones?" She finishes that cigarette he'd given her and tosses the butt as they leave town. Can't make it any more of a shithole. Aristide snorts softly about the Brotherhood. "Hijos de punta."
Franky     Franky is fixated on this pipboy, to fixated to care what Aris and Yah are so glib about. Nope, those slick lines, awesome arm clamp, and that Sparkle pony...It has Franky's mouth agape. "Heh, this town never upsets me." Franky's pipboy groans like an upset snail, thumb alreadys scrolling through all the cool shit.