ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Sammy     Sammy's spent a lot of time in here with the old timer who runs the High Noon, and it's not unheard of to find him pouring over things, looking at the workings of guns. In this case, today is such one of those examples, he's got a piece of leather laid out, and an array of tools lined up , looks like there's a unique flat bar thing, obviously the original, in blued steel once upon a time, now rusted and beyond salvaging, but Sammy's got a new piece of metal, and a pair of calipers and is checking thickness, depth, math going onto a notepad next to his tools, where the piece has been drawn out in a typical top, left, front view.
    He sets the original part down and looks across the tools laid out, grabs a triangular shaped file, and starts working on the new bit of metal again.
    The other new thing is that he's gingerly balancing on a pair of crutches under each arm, letting his balance be held, buy his knee against the display case he's working over... His legs are wrapped in bandages, as is his neck, wrists and midsection beneath his duster, armor and helmet left behind for the day.
Sparrow Sparrow's in her duster but it doesnt' do much to hide the fact Sparrow's moving stiffly and has both arms bandaged. "Seems like everyone's gettin' a little roughed up lately." The blonde cowgirl drawls as she moseys further into the store with a winces as she rolls a shoulder to adjust her duster. She steps aside and looks aroun before smiling back to Sammy and looking over the inventory. "Would you mind lettin' me know when you've got a moment Sammy? Someone suggested I ask you about somethin'." Sparrow has never been accused of beating around any bushes. She doesn't try to interupt directly though the tone and manner in which it's stated indicates she's willing to wait for Sammy to be free.
Sammy     Sammy blinks almost audibly, "For me, it's an occupational hazard. . . I thought the people were learning to keep you out o the way of fire on principle, at least, that's what I was always tryin to preach at 'em." he wryly grins and sets his tools down, the flat piece of steel makes a good bookmark. One of the red shop-rags is used to remove a layer of rust, grease and filings from his hands as he smiles back. "I am kinda curious bout who and what, which is good distraction." he looks down at himself, shifts his weight to his legs a little and stands up, "I should take a stretch break before I get too stiff." but he winces as the legs take more of his weight, and leaves himself at a kind of tripod ish pose, one foot with some weight, one foot braced against that, the majority of his self being carried by the shoulders. "What's up?"
Sparrow Sparrow says, "They do, but Solomon's got a hate on for me. His men have tried to kill me twice since he left." She smirks as she moves over to lean on the counter with a hip though her smile tightens with some strain. She's medicated but there's little one can do to escape it when both arms have been shot. "Not him so much I'm concerned about right now though." She admits with a breath through her nose.

" Who, I can't recall. Voice in the wind I suppose. I've been askin' about a needler lately and folks who know anything about guns. Truth is, Sammy, I need a Needler and modified ammo before I head south to Posiden. I need samples to go with the potential vaccine or counter-virus to the mutagen that's making the blob and centaur monsters. You need both to make a cure, not just one or the other. But I've seen what happens to folks who get too close to those monsters.."

She pauses and gestures, "You had anyone look at you yet, Sammy. You want me to see if the bandages need changing?"
Sammy     "Well bugger, that's not so great. Field medics being shot and all." he considers, and watches her a bit. "You're not out there, listening to ghosts like me with my haunted rifle." he checks over his shoulder, the massive anti-material rifle leaning against the back-wall easily within arm's reach. "Because seriously, it's not all it's cracked up to be."
    He looks down at his notepad, "Needlers... I haven't seen one this far out. I'm trying to remember, how to make one, but I don't know what the base weapon is. Part of me wants to think it'd be like a piston-spring like a BB-gun, only attached to a shotgun barrel, that fired tweaked syringes turned into darts." he heaves a sigh, but draws out what he think might be some components, "But without a broken oone to fix. It'd take a while to get the things together and be hella expensive. They might have one in a medical facility somewhere." he considers. "... since it doesn't use regular ammo, it might be overlooked by looters."
    He looks down at himself, "Legs are healing, it's tender. All over, I can function, just impaired a little bit." okay he's not up at peak perfomance by a few yards. "I would love someone who knows what they're doing making sure I get the bandages changed though."
Sparrow Sparrow lifts a shoulder. I'm not the only Doc around town but the assasination attempts have been keeping me out of El Dorado. I feel like I've lost touch with some folks. Besides it's not like I don't know what I'm gettin' into." She gives a wry smile that causes her sunkissed features to weather a bit and shakes her head. "Besides bein' a field medic you kinda expect that folks who are serious about killin the folks on your side don't want you helpin' people back up."

"Iris says uh, Q. Willis? Somethin, has one. What I need though is to find ammo that can suck rather than ..inject. Or something that can be tied to the tip of a crossbow bolt. I plan on buyin' one of those before I leave for Posiden." She explains with a tap of her nails on the counter. "I've asked about. I'll try again shortly. Rumor has it other people have one, at this point I'm desperate. We haven't got long before we're going and I've a feeling I may have to just go with crossbow bolts modified with needler ammo."

"All right I'll have a look at you. You'll just have to promise not to kick too hard, since I haven't got the strength in my arms to stop you. Here .. or you think it might be better to loose the pants in a back room or somethin?"
Sammy     "Q. Willis... Hmm." he coniders, "I can fix and repair and ... startin to get a few more things able to get modified pretty good." He considers, and takes the .223 pistol from his belt holster, and lays it on the counter next to the tools, "Here's something I just recently managed to get worked on."
     He smiles a little and undoes his belt, sliding it out, now free of the weight of the large, diesel locomotive shaped pistol, and turns it over, showing that it's got fresh teethmarks. "I think nobody'll care if we duck behind the display stand, here. THere's already a somewhat comfortable chair over here." he gestures, to the one his rifle is leaning next to, and then holding the belt in his teeth, and biting down, he moves ot the chair and lowers himself down to aitting on it, setting the crutches down, and undoing his boots, bandages where socks should be above them, and un-blouses his fatigue-pants, raising them up to show he was pretty well thrashed, where the boots ended. Clawmarks on the boots are deep and fresh, barely any trail-dust in them, and he hasn't had time to clean the boots properly.
Sparrow Sparrow moves over, looking over the gun though she doesn't pick it up. She's shrugging out of her Duster gingerly and taking off ehr hat which she sets aside as well. She looks over the gun and back to Sammy, "Truth be told I'm not great with weapons. I mean, I've pulled a headshot in my day but I don't know the ins and outs so much as I know how to care and take a shot. You've got some talent." She rolls up her sleeves showing bandages on both her arms and carefully removes her medkit. "Anywya, Sammy, if you know nyone or can figure out a way to make it work for crossbow bolts, in addition to makin me a few. I'd give just about anythin' I own. Well, that which aint necessary. A vaccination or innoculation I can give the masses means more to me than my toys."

Sparrow moves over to the chair after Sammy settles ina dn looks at the wounds on his legs with a wince. She settles in to look over the wounds with a shake of her head. "Damn, what got you?"
Sammy     "That's the problem with it, really." he says, letting the leather fall from his teeth and letting Sparrow get a good look at the still healing wounds, bandages about ready to be changed anyway. "The bastard thingys had like, all teeth, and arms or , well they had clawed ended appendages, some would be legs by function, but they were just ... Really indescribable, and they blended in with the dark, it was really really nasty down there. The blast from the dynamite set in the big pile of eggs lit up the fact they seemed to be coming down from the ceiling and walls... and that's when the shockwave hit me. Just after two had grabbed and started pulling me back into the ... well I guess it was the brood chamber."
    A sharp draw of breath as he feels the bandages being lifted. "Most of the soreness now is from the concussionblast that lifted me up 'ever so gently' and threw me out of that mining shaft." he lets the sarcasm drip off that phrase. "... fifty, maybe sixty meters."
Sparrow Sparrow gets out the Iodine and the ether, the latter gets put on a rag and she offers it to Sammy before taking her knees to look over thw wounds. "Okay so not Deathclaws? I'm assuming you're not poisoned or anything. So there's that. Brood chamber? Eggs? This was the cap mine right? I mean I think I would've heard if that kinda thing was out in the open where regular Scavvers could stumble on it." She takes off the bandages and starts cleaning around them. Checking Kumo's work and patching up parts that might've been missed during treatment. "So these monsters had.. explosives?"
Sammy     Sammy considers the rag, and nods, "The Cap Mines. Wrong build for deathclaws. All black and shiny." he looks down at his legs, "Don't think I'm poisoned. And didn't look to be septic." it's angry looking for wounds, but there's no infections. Benefits of sharp claws, right?
    He shakes his head nd its back on the chair so that the ether will not drop him from it, "No... the miners had a box of dynamite left... Well, we found one on the side of the tunnel on our way down there." he states, "Winston found it... one of the civvies jury rigged it to blow the eggs. Was a big pile. Eggs big as a pig." he grumbles and takes a hit off the ether. Loopy gunsmith means curly engravings, wheeee.
Sparrow Sparrow says, "That big? Well not sure what you expect. You gotta get out of the way when it blows though. It's a huge mess otherwise, just lookit you." This is Sparrow's sotto drawl. It's coming from somewhere behind the counter; Sparrow is off screen. Sammy is sitting, his lower half also not visible but he looks to be lounging in a chair. "There we go, just a little more and we'll get your pants back on before anyone walks in. I'll be by in a few days to have another go at it, all right? Feelin' better?"
Sammy     Sammy unfolds the Ether rag, and looks down, he sets the rag on the counter and sits forward just a little bit, "I am feelin no pain." he wiggles his fingers a little, and gives as shrug, "Got a keen mind to just sit here for a while, but lets get back to presentable and standing." he muses, clearly looking a little out of it, pupils dialated, not really focusing.
    "Good thing I don't have to drive. Yay for horses smarter than I am, right? Ever see a drunk horse?" he muses. "God how much whiskey would a gelding need to get a good buzz?"
    He then sets to helping Sparrow with his pants, getting them sorted so he can stand up again.
Stockton Stockton can be heard coming a mile away, it's not like he walks softly. The spurs jangle and the heels of his boots thud as he pushes into the shop with a brown package under his arm. Seeing Sammy he goes to speak and then hears Sparrow. That scarred eyebrow lofts upwards and there's a grit of teeth around his cigarillo as he mutters a few swears and marches right up to the counter to drop the package with a dull thud and a lean over it to find Sammy fussing with his britches, "What in the nine hells," he starts and then flares nostrils before stiffling a bit of a growl, "Fancy findin' yah both," forcing a toothsome smile for the Ranger and the Cowgirl.
Sparrow Sparrow chuckles, "Depends on the horse, I think. But actually they do get drunk, pigs and birds too. They'll intentionally eat fermented but fruits and razor rain for the buzz. And as much as I'd like to just lay here and relax after all that I'm certain someone might object to an eye full." She says standing to help Sammy; between the four crippled limbs, they get the rebandaged legs tucked back in. "Hey, Slimjim." She says and her brows lift a bit at his expression. "Right?" She wonders of Stockton's swearing and shakes her head. "I ain't ever seen marks like that either. Nor heard of eggs the size of pigs. I was just asked Sammy about some guns." She leans on the counter next to her hat and her duster, putting her medkit away. "What's that?" She nods to the package rolling her sleeves back down her bandaged arms carefully.
Sammy     Sammy looks up at the noise, but he's a bit out of focus right now, he does recognize Stockton as he comes wandering up and in, but Sparrow's words have his attention back in a heartbeat. "I think we should work on more cots in more places. Maybe see if some of these old buildings would handle old school porch swings." he fidgets and adjusts his pants just-so, and grabs one of the crutches from the wall behind, near the chair he was sprawled on, and pulls himslelf up, then grabs the other, and in an interesting not-quite quadrupedal form, moves back to the counter, looking at the package that Stockton brought in.
    "There was some trouble, we shot it. That's how we do."
Stockton Stockton's features go from scowl to neutral in about as long as it takes for him to find Sammy's bandages and the last of him buckling up and Sparrow putting away the medkit. Cricking his neck to the side he grimaces a little when his neck pops loudly. Focus falls onto Sammy and he nods, "It is, glad yer still kickin' I heard tell yer doin' modifications on guns these days." Well, the Sheriff is known to like his pistols. A glance for Sparrow and he shrugs, "You didn' come home again, so I went lookin' fer yah. Ran out tah Acme'n back. Einstein said tah give you this, dunno what it is other'n heavy."
Sparrow Sparrow takes the box and oofs a little and sets it down quickly. Too much weight on those arms. "Yeah. Solomon's men again. He's escalating prett quickly. That S.O.B. really don't like me all that much." She chuckles dryly and starts carefully working at th twin holding the package together so she can unwrap it. Slowly exposing the Syringe Pitol and a note which she holds to read. Fallout out of conversation for a few moments to do thata nd also? Giving the two men a chance to look over Dr. Einstein's contribution to the FEV Virus. She reads from time to time with her lips moving and says 'huh' softly, "Listen to this.." She trails off to read it first before she'll rattle it off. "The Enclave was performing FEV Experimentation in New Mexico at some point after the destruction of their oil rig in the pacific. He said he remembers hearing word of a Poseidon Energy Facility from pre-war times that had the nessecary power requirements and facilities for such research but that he was not sure altogether if that's what was going on but he speculates it's probably pretty likely. He's pretty sure anyone going there's going to come back hurt or worse though." Sparrow's lips set in a thin line. "Stock my name's still on that list right?"
Sammy     Sammy nods, to Stockton, watchin the neutral hit the man's face, he looks at the package, and then lays his own .223 pistol on the countertop, showing to Stockton "Whatcha think? I'm gettin better by degrees. This thing was a real challenge when you consider the original barely functioned." he then goes back to peering at the bundle for Stockton, resting heavily on the crutches he's got himself propped up on.
    As the Syringer pistol is unfolded, he considers it, looking at it, and then back to his notepad, where by sheer coincidence, some of his hypothesis were confirmed. The thick stubby barrel could be pieced from a shotgun perhaps. The pistol grip, the need for syringes retooled into darts, piston and spring actuation.
    "I ... was right." he muses, with a bit of ether-delusional vindication.
Stockton Stockton scowls and goes to help Sparrow the second she does a fool thing like try to lug it her damn self. Setting it on the ground he just makes an animalistic noise of displeasure at her before going back to leaning on the counter. The syringer revealed he stares at it a bit blankly, "This is how yer gonna get yer sample from afar?" he asks her, before looking at Sammy and his .223 pistol, a low whistle coming for it and he nods, "That's a damn beauty," he confirms before looking at the notepad briefly, "You were?" he can't tell. But then Sparrow's off on tangents about danger and he looks at Sparrow rather dead in the eye, "Thinkin' it shouldn't be at this point," he says rather plainly.
Sparrow Sparrow says, "I'm doin' this thing, Stockton. I ain't asking Iris or anyone else to do it and we've already had it proven to us that if someone without a delicate hand goes in, we might loose all the research anyway. We damned near lost Solomon's aide and that was with Joe screamin' his fool head off at people." She exhales and remains leaned on it. "Solomon's goons aren't gonna try and get a hit on me down there. They'd rather hope the Mutants will get me." She looks at the gun then back to Sammy and then Stockton with wide eyes and something that almost looks like a smile. "Especially now that I've got a possible way to make it work." She glances to Sammy then the .223 and nods to Sammy. "He's right it is damned fine and yeah. You seem to have been. I recognize the breech you were describin'. This does save us some time though.." She breathes out through her nose. "But you gotta stay here, Stockton, all of us folks bein' away. There are folks who are gonna wanna step in. They've already got folks shooting up the Clinic and the docs, Iris and Percy both this week."
Sammy     People shooting the medics again has Sammy white-knuckling the crutches and gritting his teeth, jaw tensing up. "You know, that just ain't right, people don't understand it's those people you need to protect most? Fucking heat-stroke mental or something?"
    Sammy takes his .223 off the counter and slips it into his belt holster, though it doesn't fit cleanly, the railcar shape of the .223 doesn't fit cleanly compared to the way the old Magnum did.
    With repeated doses of bandages, I should be in this trip too. I just need to get enough parts together to get my bike up and running, almost had it turning over last week..." he sighs a little bit, thinking more aloud than he normally would. He starts gathering up the tools he had before, tucking the files into the pouches on the leather mat and looking at the Syringer, opening the notebook to consider it, and start making more detailed sketches of the thing. "Ammo... hmm." and is making notes. He picks up a pair of calipers and looks to Sparrow, "Mind if I?" he gestures to the shockingly unique weapon.
Stockton Stockton's teeth are gritted tightly as she explains that she's still going. His nostrils flare again and he sucks in a breath but says nothing. "Who went and shot up the damn Clinic and why am I just hearin' about this?" he growls a little, that hits personal and home. Then she's imploring him, nay, telling him to stay and he stares at her. Daggers really. He's looking back at Sammy and nodding once, "We'll talk about what you can do fer the twins when yer feelin' better." Moving over to the doorway he just posts up in a lean and waits for the blonde cowgirl to conclude her business.
Sparrow Sparrow nods, "Go ahead, Sammy. I'll leave it for ya to look at. I'm gonan take the Sheriff too the clinic. I'll be by to pick the new girl back up on my way back out towards Avalon. Any luck? I'll be able to give youa pick me up while I'm at it. Maybe see if I can pick up a Salve Lilly can put on for you until I can come back with my real gear and get you treated proper like. All right?"
Sammy     "Allright then." he nods to Sparrow and Stockton, and turns a clean page on the notepad, and starts making new notes, starting with all the external measurements for the Syringer, jotting them down carefully, looking over the Syringer as if it were a fabulous lostech artifact, drawing it carefully as he uses the calipers to check all the measurements and annotates everything carefully, measuring all the screws, bolts, fittings, knobs, what everything is set at.
    ... the ether is fading now, and the curious and exacting precision of the Shooter become Gunsmith, make notes, make more notes. Check your notes... Paper is a precious commodity, but so are range books for every gun he's ever spent time shooting. . .
Sparrow Sparrow smiles and nods and lets Sammy to his work. Turning to head out towards the door with the Sherriff, "Night." She calls to the Ranger with a small smile and shake of her head before she steps out into the night.