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Sammy Sammy limps back to El Dorado, his leg showing the signs of visibly being gnawed on, some rips and gashes in the jeans and a bit of blood leaking , now coated with trail dust. He's got maybe fifteen kilometers worth of it on him? He looks to those who need serious treatment, then down at his leg, and steps over to ring the bell and take a number, propping himself up with a crutch and not even bothering to set down his rifle.
Kurokumo Mibojin      Chiming bell chimes, cluttering noise making itself known before a head full of messy black hair pokes out of one of the Doctor's offices. Kurkumo blinks, eyes still blurry as she rubs her face. "Fuck, what happened to you?.." The life of a Doctor is one full of naps, long stretches of time spent upon the lack of sleep. Bringing her kit along, she swallows as the spectacular sight of wounds finally sinks in.
Sammy "Floor gave way in the Underground; and I miscounted the number of corpses vs. still wriggling Ghouls in my efforts to get the hell out. Stopped to reload and... one woke up right beneath me. And ... I left my shovel somewhere else." because, shovel, it's the best zombie slaying weapon ever. He read that in a field manual once. Serrate one edge, sharpen the other 4 on the spade. "Wanted to thank you for helpin the other night, lettin Ashur get up and get active, and then takin care of Barns." he now recognizes Kurokumo a bit more than just 'Doc' ...
Kurokumo Mibojin      "Damn, Sam, you sure know how to pick 'em..." Kurokumo remembers him from before, Sammy and Carter a pair of misfits looking to get themselves maimed. She helps him along to one of the exam rooms, given something solid to lean on to help him sit on the bed. "I'd tell you to take off your pants, but their pretty much trashed." Instead the Doctor retrieves a pair of cloth shears to cut away strips to get to the deepened wounds.
Sammy     "Someone once told me, there are no dragons in Freeport." he murmurs, watching her, sitting back a bit, he reaches into his pack and pulls out a fist sized spool-ball of cord, much like that which was holding parts of his pantleg together, and that his boot laces are made out of. He reaches down to pick at the laces and undo the boot, the boots, hold up remarkably well, given the walking ahd retreading, must be the amount of Geko Grease he uses to polish 'em before he goes to sleep. "... I have no idea where Freeport is, I couldn't find it on any West Coast map."
Kurokumo Mibojin      Kurokumo chuckles, the story being one of many that are drunkenly retold by a man, who knew a man, who knew a man... She knows the value of a good pair of pants, and only cuts what's in the way of the flesh torn by the nigh-undead. "Don't go getting lost anytime soon, Sammy." The Doctor goes to work, cleaning away the caked on blood and dust clinging for dear life, before applying salve in some places and threatening with a sewing needle in others.
Sammy     The nice thing about having a lengthwise spool of thread in your mouth as you measure bits of it and cut with the knife you pulled from a pocket, is that you are already right there to bite down, this case, when it came time for the stitches. He makes a few quick-ties and makes a fresh lace for that boot, watching her work.
    He lets the makeshift gag fall to his lap, "That's why I like making my maps, so I can see where I've been, where I was going, leave notes. I'm not letting anyone doodle 'here be dragons' on my map. There may be a time when I figure out where the Deathclaw nests are, and label those with "Danger - Deathclaw' but no uncharted space for the sake of labeling it with something silly."
Kurokumo Mibojin      "You know..." The Asian woman is paying attention, despite her focus on gently cleaning and santizing her work. She hears all kinds of things around town. "I heard that Vault 32, which is a bit south in New Mexico, is full of Deathclaw nests. Just heard it earlier today."
Sammy     "The Underground in Roswell is pretty nasty. But I picked up on a few things while I was there. A few of the locals talking about someplace called Dunwich, that was actually for reals haunted." he grins, bnetwene doctors and bartenders, you're likely to find the real story of what's going on everywhere in a given settlement. He sits back, "I can't wait to hear what the crew at the Embassy thinks of my proposal to workaround this new wave of 'taxes'..." he smirks conspiratorially. He hmms, "This is so much easier when someone else is putting you back together." he muses, watching the leg resemble more leg and less a part of the ghoul he retrieved it from. "I never been good at makin sure my own wounds are clean enough. a second set of eyes is critical to doin a good job."
Kurokumo Mibojin      "Taxes?" It doesn't take too terribly long for Kurokumo to start wrapping the bandages. "I'm afraid I haven't been visited by those men. Hopefully, money is the only thing they'll want to take." Her words are dry, the real meaning possibly lost on Sammy if he doesn't look too deeply. "What kind of workaraound?"
Sammy     "Well, they came by and demanded two hundred caps from me in extortion, so I'm going to be checking back with the NCR Embassy about what we're being taxed -for- and then, I figure we'd prepare an itemized, and itemizable list of -what- they're recieving at our expense, and bill them for services rendered." he smirks, "Figure, letting some of that recovered dynamite back into the hands of those who swiped it might be detrimental to the town's health." he smirks.
    "That and I want to find out where these fuckwombles are coming from, because they obviously -ain't- local."
Kurokumo Mibojin      Kurokumo lets out a harsh laugh, moving to stand as she handles the disposal of dirtied tools and materials. "Fuckwombles. Yeah, thieves should be squeezed just as badly, or worse: I might have Ashur become my lawyer." The Asian woman has a vindictive streak a mile long.
Sammy     "I'm thinking they homed in on me, because I've got a room at the Gold Digger, it's an easy address to find. I am lookin to sell some spares I picked up along the way..." he considers audibly, "Or they're trying to prove that they're hot shit, and they can pick on someone with a known combat record..." he doesn't much think of it, but then again, if the city of El Dorado -did- join the NCR, there would be NCR taxes to pay. But they're actually providing a benefit, jobs, infrastructure, and support, for those taxes. . .
Kurokumo Mibojin      "What do you have to sell?" Kurkumo calls over her shoulder, soiled bandages dropped into the boiling pot in the corner of the exam room. She's so busy with healing everyone that happened to walk in to really have time for herself.
Sammy     "I've got a pair of rifles." he considers, "Know anyone looking for a .308 caliber sniper rifle, or a .223 caliber sniper rifle?" he puts his rifle down and takes out the hyuuuuge box magazine, yep, 12.7mmx99mm '.50 BMG' rounds are what he's got for the gun on hand. A jacket pocket is rifled through, and he holds up a pair of smaller bullets, that look almost like the children and maybe grandchildren of the big nasty thing in the box magazine.
    "Smaller, easier to use than this. But, they're literally, extras, as I can only carry so much, should only carry so much." he sits back a bit, and folds the pants leg down, redoing the laces on his boot and tying them back up with the fresh cord.
    He sees she doesn't appear to spark interest in the rifles, "If you find anyone who needs one. Let me know, I'll take 'em out and show 'em how to drill new nostrils in raiders at eight hundred meters." he smiles, "Thanks for the help ... Kuro."