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"Blood, Sweat and Tears"


AliasTheory

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I read through my post again and realized my misinterpratation. The main lead is the lone wanderer! I should have known, armored vault 101 jumpsuit = Lone Wanderer. As I had said (or technically written) I was tired when I wrote that comment.

 

This last episode is interesting. I at first was thinking Enclave when you were describing the mercenaries. Your used method of describing these talon guys was unclear until you said talon. On one hand it could be something to work on improving. So as to make the situation more clear. On the other paw this could be intentional. One can compare this to the writing styles of Jerry Pournelle with his Falkenberg's Legion Series compared to David Drake's Hammer's Slammers series. Pournelle is describing the situation, the combat, the violence, the carnage to you so that it is understood. Mainly for young military officers to learn the art of war (and to tell you we need to kill those reds. As you might guess, Pournelle did most of his writing during the Cold War). Drake on the other hand writes his combat as it is. Chaotic, intense, and violent. One doesn't really have a detached and safe view of the situation (Drake was in the tank corps during I believe it was Vietnam War. He built the Slammers command structure exactly that as of a armored regiment). So if the style of description was intentional, good job.

 

Jericho. He has always struck me as you have portrayed him. Of course there were differences in how we see him. I can believe him coming in and helping the vault warriors for the heck of it. However...HOW IN THE WORLD DID HE KNOW WHERE THE VAULT WARRIORS WERE? I don't think you can get "Google Earth" in the wasteland. Nor does Jericho have master tracking skills like Aragorn (I think I spelled his name right) from the Lords of the Rings. Even if he does, how do you stalk a vertibird? (I use the word "stalk" for a reason. With a little research you can discover this joke to myself. Hint: It has something to do with the BSA's Centennial merit badges).

 

The combat scene was intense. Perhaps if I had read it before others of such quality I would be awestruck. However I have read books such as the above mentioned. But nevertheless it was pretty intensifying and gripping. If worse comes to worse and you need to pay the bills. You can turn to your unique writing ability. The famous inventor of modern day science fiction Robert A. Heinlein started out for that reason.

 

This is my two cents

Slicer51b

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Hello everyone,

 

No, this story ain't dead. Not by far. 10 days is long, but whatever. I've been busy this past week but I was able to finish one part and half of the next part. Just need a picture for that other part...I have that down. ;) Things are going to get good, I promise, though most of this could be described as filler to some. (That depends on your priorities as a reader.) And lastly, questions will be answered. Eventually, of course! :P

 

Will post next part in the morning time for me.

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============================

Chapter 10: Home Away from Home

============================

 

“Hey there, Jericho.”

 

Three days have passed since our encounter with Talon Company. An early gong echoes throughout the corridors of the ship as the sun begins to return to its rightful position in the sky. But I’m already up and running…with a tray of food bouncing in my hands. I slowly close the large metal hatch to the clinic in an attempt to keep things peaceful, but it creaks disruptively as flakes of rust crack and peel off.

 

“Oh, hey kid. Good to see ya.”

 

There he is; the ex-raider is on the first bed on the right. Jericho manages to grin through all the casts and bandages that bind his body; tubes from a nearby container supply him with additional fluids. He looks as stiff as a rock, unfortunately.

 

“Looks like Dr. Preston took good care of you. I shouldn’t be visiting you at this hour, but I went down to the market and got you some grub. Good old Brahmin steak and what people over here are calling ‘potatoes.’ Figured it was better than this lame hospital food.” I put the tray down on his lap.

 

Jericho sits up and quizzically stares at the food before him. He picks up the fork and knife I laid out for him, but continues to squint in confusion. I’m guessing the potatoes are to blame.

 

“What the f*** is that stuff.”

 

“H***, I don’t know. But it’s good for you, apparently. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

 

“I ain’t beggin’. Well, thanks.” Jericho begins to poke at his meal. “Oh yeah, and how’s dat arm.”

 

“Great, actually. I’m fine. I got the stain out, too. See?”

 

I stretch out the left sleeve of my Vault suit. There isn’t a spot of red in sight; we all really needed to clean up after our little encounter. I was out of the clinic in less than half a day. Jericho only nods in acknowledgement; now he’s chewing away at the steak, cheeks round and reptilian.

 

“Anyway, don’t worry about me…time heals all wounds. Right?”

 

“…’cept for lost limbs,” Jericho garbles, waving a wrapped finger.

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

 

“….f*** you.” More garbled speech.

 

“Alright. I’ll leave you in peace. Well, I’m going back to the market. See you.”

 

The only reply is the tinkling from the utensils as Jericho inhales the rest of his food. I’m sure others might get the impression that he lacks a conscience, but I know Jericho is a good person at heart.

 

Only a few minutes have passed since our so-very-gentle exchange of words, but the hallways are slowly filling with chatter as everybody goes about their daily agenda. The sour, metallic air might be enough to drive some of the most tolerant wastelanders insane, but nobody seems to care. The deep labyrinths of Rivet City are always cold, dark, damp and dimly lit by small fluorescents; time never seems to pass here. It is just one long empty hall after another. Staccatos of quiet dripping coupled with rhythmic footsteps weave in and out of perception as murmurs fill the gaps in between.

 

“…hey, did you hear that last night? All that g**d*** noise.”

 

“That’s just the Mirelurks mating. Or fighting. You’ll get used to them.”

 

Following the dilapidated metal signs, I manage to retrace my steps. With the door to the market plaza now right in front of me, a vigorous twist and pull does the trick; a wave of hot air envelops me as I casually saunter back to Gary's Galley. The owners, the Staleys, are always working so hard to serve the city folk. The tables are completely filled, and judging from the customer orders, it seems some sort of Yao Guai dish is the special today. As I close in on the mouthwatering aromas, it doesn’t take me even a second to spot two familiar figures meandering toward the counter – one burly but collected, the other slender and long haired. In addition, they seem to be scanning through a rather large book along the way to Gary’s. It’s Butch and Saya.

 

http://www.fallout3nexus.com/imageshare/images/2144141-1287338314.png

 

“Morning you two,” I call out as they approach the bar. They sit down, but I remain upright. “Hope you both had another restful night.”

 

Saya is the first to make contact with me, and smiles. She’s always so high-spirited.

 

“Yes, I did! The Weatherly Hotel is always nice. Maybe because we have a roof above us.”

 

“That’s good to hear. Oh and what’s with the big book?”

 

“Oh this? I bought it yesterday.” She closes the book to reveal a patterned, white cover with a skull design – all without a sign of wear. “It’s called ‘The Wasteland Survival Guide.’ The authors are that crazy lady back in Megaton and her ‘expert assistant.’”

 

“Ugh, god, that Moira Brown. Crazy is right. But I guess you need to be slightly insane to be that brilliant too. Hopefully this ‘expert assistant’ of hers kept things in check…how much did you pay for this?”

 

“Around 50 caps for a new copy. I thought it would be useful.”

 

“I’m sure it will. Worth the price. I’ll need to look it over some time.”

 

I can’t help but smile. Peering over her shoulder, I notice Butch. He looks incredibly groggy and dejected…but I think I know why. I can bet on the notion that Saya dragged him here.

 

“Hey.” I slide over and forcefully place my hand on his back. “Less alcohol, please. As you should know, we’ll be looking for some answers today about this whole Project Purity deal. Quit screwing around. And lose the shades. You’re indoors.”

 

Butch just groans. “I have to listen to orders on vacation too?” He perches his face in the palms of his hands. “Fine, be that way. But I’m keeping the glasses. Man I’m hungry…”

 

At that moment, my stomach growls in unison with his. I could really use something good to eat too; maybe I’ll take that special dish this morning. I help myself to the empty seat next to Saya, but it then occurs to me that hey, maybe it wasn’t meant for me.

 

“Uh, guys?” I ask. “Did you see Saori this morning? ‘Cause it is just about eight now.”

 

Saya gasps. “You’re right! Where is she? Saori was here yesterday…and the day before that too…”

 

She sighs in dismay and frustration. Saya then suddenly turns to Butch, her long hair brushing my shoulder, almost as if she had just remembered his existence. He’s still in the same, apathetic position.

 

“Buuuutch!” she whines. “Did you see her?”

 

“…huh, what? Who?” Butch shakes his head, like he had just woken up from a bad dream.

 

“Saori, silly.”

 

“Oh. Nope. Not at all.” He buries his face in his hands. “Hurry up Staley, get your a** over here…gimme food…”

 

“Well, fine,” I insist. “I’ll look for her. I can wait.”

 

(My body has already admitted that was such a terrible lie.)

 

Saya gives me a worried look. “Umm…okay then! She will probably show up sooner or later, but we’ll be down here shopping for more supplies like you said yesterday. Right, Butch?”

 

“Right,” moans a muffled voice.

 

That girl Saori is always so unpredictable, but that’s sassiness and spunkiness for you, I suppose. I haven’t really talked to her since our shaky arrival, either…something’s up. Alright, well, time for a little hide n’ go seek. Why, it’ll be just like back in the Vault! There are lots of corridors and pockets here and there; it’s all the same deck of cards. But there’s one thing all four of us know for a fact.

 

I always win.

 

Edited by AliasTheory
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Eh. I think it is 'cause I actually have more visuals to write about. The open wasteland is boring after one gets past the "ZOMG THE WHOLE WORLD'S BEEN NUKED" idea. It took me oh...only some few hundred hours. IMO, the combat part was better.

 

Thanks!

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Yeah...it is very relaxing. :)

 

I also found out I spelled "Brahmin" wrong. Fix'd. Yay!

 

I think you guys will really like what I've done with the next part. Very different, I'd say. Just need the picture. Probably by the end of this week it'll be up...depends on my agenda.

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