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Cormano Setting out on his second patrol of the day, Babyface pulls the brim of his Sombrero down low, shielding his eyes against the setting sun's glare. The events of the previous patrol already cleared from his mind. He rests a hand on the butt of his .44 as he trudges along, the desert heat begining to fade from the day. Every so often he glances over towards town, remaining aware of his surroundings on a deeper instinctual level. The chirping of crickets begin to sound as the day begins to give over to night, cactuses dot the landscape, some almost taking on the outline of nafarious villains that could be laying in wait at this very moment. Babyface's dimished ears almost perk up as he catches the trudging of someone nearby. He raises his head to search for the source of the sound.
Rome Hassam trudges along the dirt road, the setting sun casting a glow on the beggining tell tale signs of his bulky power armor. His helmeted head scans the nearby cactus for the unsavory types as he thuds along with each step of his cumbersome armor, a AEP7 pistol held down lown and to the side, gripped in hand loosely at the ready. He halts for a moment, casting his obscured gaze sideways bothways as he double checks for threats, before continuing along the dirt path slowly, in no rush to get to El Dorado with it just in the distance.
Cormano Perks his head at the signature clunking sound of a suit of power armor on the move. Though on any concious level he just recognizes it as something big headed roughly his way. "Someone out there?" He rasps out, eyes scanning the horizon searching for the source of the sound. The hand resting on the butt of his revolver wraps around it, prepared for another raider ambush on some level. Before long he spots the bulk of the power armor, judging it to not be a raider he relaxes somewhat. "Ay there Tin man, whatcha doin' out yonder this way? Get lost from your platoon or somethin'?"
Rome Rome lifts his free hand up in signal to Babyface after getting close enough to spot the scrawny Ghoul. Rome speeds up his strides a bit, approaching Babyface before long. "I'm here for the Vault expedition." the power-armor clad man calls out, halting after a few beats as he reaches the sombreroed Ghoul. Rome casts an appraising eye over the scrawny, days old beef looking guy, before settling his armored, obscured gaze on the Ghouls own.
Cormano A friendly smile runs over the ruins of Babyface's mug, "Vault expi-what? Maybe some feller in town knows somethin' 'bout that. I'd be more'n happy to take ya that way, But I got this here patrol to conduct. Iff'n ya ain't adverse ta the idea a taggin' long with me I'll gitcha safe an sound to yonder El Dorado." He motions to Rome's pistol, "You got bullets for that mister? Might run into nere-do-wells out in these parts. Iffin' ya ain't I got a spare gun I ain't got no qualms with lendin' ya." He rasps out a chuckle and looks over Rome, This being the first time in many a year he's seen a full working set of power armor.
Rome Rome nods in affirmation to Babyface, "The Enclave forces guarding Vault 30 are dead." he sounds almost mechanically, stowing his AEP7. "Pass it over and I'll see to helping you on your patrol. My batteries are running low on the pistol." He reveals, lifting a bulky hand to waist-height as his palm outstretches with a droning sound that eminates from the suit, palm turned over to accept the pistol from Babyface.
Cormano Babyface retrieves an aged .357 from his pack, "She's fully loaded, less you got a coupla rounds rattlin' 'round yer suit, use her sparin'ly. Wheel guns ain't got but six slugs." He rasps out a chuckle at his own statement as he hands off the shooting iron, butt first to Rome. "Name's Babyface, New to town but I'm workin' the patrols. Ain't good for much but shootin' an wrenchin' these days." This Ghoul of decidely pre-war vintage looks quite the sight with his large sombrero and farm hand outfit, almost like he had just lept out of an old Vaquero novel starring a mummy.
Rome Rome wraps his fingers around the butt of the .357 revolver, nodding to Babyface with a clunk as the suit shifts weight. "We shouldn't have a problem, I don't think." Rome drops his hand and the iron at his side, speaking almost mechanically again through the helmet. "You can call me Rome. How old are you anyway?" The power-armor clad man asks, any hint of his age or what lies within a hazardous guess. The sun continues setting low in the horizon, the warm glow and heat from the dust roads causing a shimmer above the wastelands out here.
Cormano Babyface rubs the side of a nearly ruined face, "That's a good question, I reckon I don't rightly know. Got a vague idea I came from before the bombs fell though I figure. Ya only get so much room in the Ol' greymatter I 'spose." He raises the sombrero with a hand and beckons Rome to follow him on his patrol. ""spose you're with the Brotherhood ain'tcha? They tend to be the ones to hand out workin' suits a that sort you got. Knew you weren't no raider soon as I saw it." The time goes by with Babyface idly chatting to Rome, His hand still resting on the butt of his revolver. He moves with an ease not commonly seen in Ghouls, almost appearing to be limber dispite his occasional complaints of aching joints associated with his condition.
Rome Rome lumbers on beside Babyface's scrawny counterpart, the drone of the cumbersome suit filling the immediate air around them as the crickets in the nearby areas chirp, filling the air with a chorus of sound. "I'm part of the Brotherhood, I'm trying to recover lost technology. I suspect Vault 30 will have what I'm looking for if the Enclave occupied it." He says aside to Babyface as they patrol the road and scan it's surrounds. Rome double checks the ammo in the irons chamber before *clicking* it back into place. "Are you coming?" Rome asks of the Ghoul, conversationally.
Cormano As the pair make their way through the desert the come across a recently doused campfire. Babyface halts and immediatly begins nervously scanning the area, his dark eyes already well adjusted to the inky blackness of the night, which has long since fallen. "Hang on there friend. I think we ain't alone. I reckon these here varmints musta heard us an scurried on into hidin'... See anythin' with them fancy eyes a yers?" He whispers in a low raspy tone to his new patrol-mate. He silently draws his revolver from it's holster, suddenly aware of the silence of the desert.
Rome Rome halts with a thud on Babyface's command, finger slipping into the trigger-guard and resting against it. He doesn't offer anything back in the silence of the night air, light mechanical compressions of his suit audible as he shifts at the waist to scan the oddly quiet surroundings. A shadow the color of black against the moonlight, darts between two outcrops of large cacti. Rome taps Babyface's arm lightly and points off in the direction of the closing bandit. "I see one so far." He says, the mechanical sound filling the air a little too loud for comfort. Another bandit nearby peeps out from over a rock, watching the two as they home in on his partners location.
Cormano Babyface's eyes go somewhat glassy as he follows Rome's gesture and spots the bandit. He raises the shooting iron to hip level and cocks the hammer back "Ah see the varmit, Ain't gonna just be the one though I figure, camp was set for 'least two." He says in a distant tone. A shot rings through the night as the bandit behind the rock takes a shot at the pair. Babyface wheels on his heel and fires off at the flash of light the bandit's shot creates in nearly the same instant. A moment later a hot curse can be heard coming from behind the rock. The bandit behind the cacti takes it as his cue to charge, brandishing a rifle of some kind he takes wild shots at the pair, screaming at the top of his lungs in a jet-fueled rage.
Rome Rome swivels in the direction of the missed shot, following Babyface's returned shot to the second bandit behind the rock. He brings the revolver up to chest height, arming the hammer in one smooth motion as he does, a loud *shot* rings out in the night air as the charging bandit fires strays in his angered rage. "Fuck." he cusses out after firing off towards the brazen bandit, the remark almost lost amongst the rings of gunfire.
Cormano Babyface fans off a few rapid rounds, But finds his aim strangly off, a heaviness creeping into the arm handling his gun. The first round rickochets noisily off of a nearby rock. The second finds it's mark in the bandit's leg, sending him tumbling nearly comically towards the patrollers. His gun skitters off into the darkness as he comes to rest infront of them, teeth pulled back in a grimace as he clutches his leg. "I'll skin you bastards alive!" He screeches out, groping for a knife at his belt. Still riding his jet high he rapidly crawls towards them, trying desperately to tear his knife free from his belt.
Rome Rome fires a shot off at the second bandit, using his bulky power-armor to obscure Babyface as he keeps the pressure on the second bandit. He glances over to the crawling bandit briefly before firing another shot at his partner as he ducks out, hitting his rifle. The bandit swears as his rifle takes a hit, dropping it to pull free a knife from his belt. "You take care of him, I'll handle his partner." he says somewhat mechanically through his helmet, the fading sound of the fired shot ringing out into the distance of the night as the bandit charges the pair with a angered warcry, knife gripped tight between his hand.
Cormano Babyface attempts to raise his hand hand to level the revolver at the bandit but finds it unresponsive, he glances down to see a crimson blossom spreading beneath his sleeve. With a neat little snap of his wrist he tosses the shooting iron to his off-hand. With a single shot from his big .44 revolver he puts the first bandit down, sending a round through his skull, silencing his screeching for good. His lipless mouth turns down into a grimace as he takes another second to glance down at his injured arm. The charging bandit swims to the forefront of his attention as the villain throws his knife with a practiced hand towards Babyface. For a moment the knife holds true, arcing towards the Ghoul neatly. However at the last instance it is intercepted by the bulk of Rome's powerarmor, clattering uselessly off of the reinforced shoulder plate. Meanwhile the bandit dives for his fallen comrades rifle, rolling as he grasps it and taking aim at the pair.
Rome Rome manages to intercept the lightly armored, mobile bandit in his cumbersome suit of armor, clunking and thudding, droning as he stomps forward to throw his thick power armor before the blade as it arcs towards Babyface, catching his shoulder and barely sparing the Ghoul. Rome takes a moment to aim at the bandit as he dives for his killed accomplices rifle, a moment later a loud *bang* ringing through the air just as the bandit turns and shoulders the rifle to fire off a hurried shot, he cries out as the impact jerks him back onto the deserts ground, lips drawn up into a snarl. Rome chambers another rounds before firing off again at the prone bandit, the shot ripping through his as crimson runs down his chest, falling over as he gasps for breath before dying from the blood loss, lying on his back, defeated like his buddy.
Cormano Babyface takes a moment after the fighting to pull back his sleeve and inspect the damage. With a raspy chuckle he pries out a small round imbeded in the arm guard. "Nicked me good there, Leather took mosta the punishment though." He holds up the round to inspect it, "Looks like we got a thirty two here, hand loaded if I were a guessin' man. Skimped on powder I figure." He shakes his head, casting a glance down at the bodies. "Damnedable varmints." After a few moments the feeling returns to his hands and he returns his gun to it's rightful place. "Good work catchin' that knife for me friend, saved me a trip to Doc's I reckon." He pats Rome amiably on his armored shoulder. "Whatcha say we git goin' back to town. I figure we did our civic duty an done earned ourselves a hot meal at yonder saloon."
Rome Rome chuckles within his helmet, casting one more glance over the fallen bandits before turning his visage to Babyface's arm and the crimson that seeps. "A hot meal sounds good, I've been travelling for hours now." the bulky power-armored figure says, holding the revolver out to Babyface with a twirl of his forefinger in the trigger-guard, spinning the grip his side. "You're a good shot." Rome says, as they turn and leave to march back to El Dorado, hurrying along faster than they wandered down this way, the promise of food after a days hard work in the back of their minds.