Fallout: Storm Over The Mojave

[Flipout6]

"Mind the mines." Jason cautioned Greebo and Ronin, before he began to cautiously disarm and retrieve them. He placed them back into their places around his belt, made eye contact with Greebo, and nodded, about the closest thing he could manage to a thanks for the help. Any regulator who wasn't here defending the town was someone Jason had lost all respect for. Even the leader of the regulators, Lincoln Cross, was here. Bernie was inside standing as a last line of defense for the defenseless. Guardian went over to Greebo's dog and introduced himself.

 

Despite his cold, hard exterior, Jason was a good man underneath (still tough and unfriendly, though.) He pulled out all the medical supplies he had and set them up on the ground. Anyone who was still alive and not beyond help was fair game for Jason's medical skills. He tried to treat the most injured folks first. He barked at Ada Strauss, the incompetent town doctor, to bring him all the supplies she had. She complied after he shot her an icy glare. With the new medical supplies he would be able to save a few more lives, but there were just so many injuries. He wouldn't be able to keep this up forever. On his third patient he raised his head.

 

"I need help. This is too much for just me." He said. He was just barely able to keep the three of these people alive. One of them had been shot in the chest, the other two had been savaged by feral ghouls. Anyone asked where he got his medical training, he'd simply avoid the question. The fewer people who knew he was with the Brotherhood, the better.

 

 

 

Miles north, between Westside and Camp McCarran, a hispanic caravaner named Renato was oblivious to the events on Novac. He didn't care about much right now, his parents were okay, his sister was okay (even if Westside wasn't the safest place these days.) and he had enough caps to spend a couple nights on the strip, which was exactly what he was going to do now. He heard the new casino, the Sodom, was quite popular, and he was going to check it out. He saw Camp McCarran in the distance, and gunshots echoed throughout the air. The Fiends were strong these days, and Renato didn't like it at all. He was probably going to run into some on the way to the Strip, nothing he couldn't handle personally, but he was a better fighter than most of the people in Westside. They were not as competent as he was.

 

A few miles out from the Freeside gates, and Renato's expectations were met. He came upon a roving group of raiders, fiends. They were disorganized, high, drunk, and stupid all at the same time, but still dangerous. One of them started yapping and jumping, all excited, and long after he saw it coming Renato was being attacked. His Widowmaker double-barrelled shotgun, already being cradled in his hands, was put into action. Renato aimed at the only guy who had a gun and fired twice. Even if only some of the pellets hit him, the fiend was peppered with injuries and was dead before he hit the ground. Renato reloaded his weapon of choice with practiced ease. The fiends were fast runners, and they were starting to close in on him. Renato picked off whoever was the closest to him, and worked his way back. The second one he executed, an ugly, filthy woman, was mutilated horribly, as she was hit from almost point-blank range. The next guy up took the contents of the second barrel and tumbled into the dust. As Renato reloaded, he put his shotgun away and took his arm-length lead pipe out of its place in his left hip. The fiends were unfazed by any of this, they were just too high and wasted. There were two left. One had a baseball bat and the other had a pool cue. Renato waited for one of them to approach, and while their blows were fast and powerful, they were clumbsy, and they easily missed their target. The man with the bat missed by a few inches, and Renato took the oppurtunity to hit him in the head with the pipe, knocking his helmet off and cracking the man's skull (it hit him in the forehead, where the helmet didn't protect much.) The fiend didn't seem to notice the attack. Renato hit him in the head as hard as he could twice, and on the third strike the fiend's skull caved in and he died. The final fiend managed to hit Renato in the stomach, and he hunched over in pain, for a moment. He was a tough man, though, and no serious damage was sustained. Renato finished this raider off with several pipe strikes to the head.

 

Not much notable happened afterwards until he entered Freeside. He refused one of the gate guard's offers for protection, and proved that he needed none when he was ambushed by a thug. He took aim with one of his throwing knives, aiming for the lower half of his head, so that it would hit either the thug's face or his throat, and promptly disposed of him when the knife flew point-first straight into his neck. Renato finished the dying man off by yanking the knife out of his flesh and stabbing it through his eye, and left him there to rot (after retrieving the knife.). He passed the credit check and soon after, was sitting at a bar in the Sodom, weaponless except for a single throwing knife he had managed to smuggle in, with the help of Mister Holdout on the main drag. That one dancer was quite talented, but looked like she was with that nearly-fat slob by the stage. Renato looked a bit more weathered than most of the people in here, he had just crawled out of the desert. Most of these folks were with the NCR, whom Renato detested. Still, they were better than the Legion. That didn't mean this night wouldn't end with a self-righteous high-roller unconscious on the sidewalk, though. Even when drunk, at least Renato was decent enough to take the fight out of the casinoes.

Edited October 21, 2012 by Flipout6

[BaldurAnthology]

Greebo saw the German Shepherd who was introducing itself to Diefenbaker, and smiled. He recognized Guardian, and when he looked up, sure enough there was Jason, who nodded at him and went do tend wounded. He had advanced first aid, having been in the Great War, but wasn't a medic, just a sniper. Nevertheless he went over to help where he could.

 

"I'd love to be more helpful, old bean. However, I only have advanced first aid from the great war, so I don't know how I can be of much assistance to you. Splendid to see you again old boy, how HAVE you been? I haven't seen you since we were in the Capital Chapter." Greebo clapped Jason on the shoulder and continued what cleaning and binding he could do on those savaged by the ghouls.

 

"I can handle those that were Savaged, old boy. You take care of the shot one, hey what?" A strange shift went through his expression and he started mumbling about random things.

 

"I like russty spoons. I like to caress them with my rotted fingers.."

[Flipout6]

Jason nodded at Greebo's offer of aid. When the old ghoul started get delusional, he knew what to do. He'd seen Greebo do this before. He stood up and cuffed the old ghoul firmly across the head.

 

"I've been well enough." He got back to work tending the bullet injury, and cringed. "Hollow Point round. This'll take a while." Greebo and Guardian were two of the only people he could be relied upon to say something resembling a full sentence to. He hit the patient with some Med-X, and got to work with a set of tweezers that he did his best to sterilize. He managed to pull out all of the bullet fragments, which was quite a task. Hollow point rounds were so deadly because they splintered into dozens of small fragments upon piercing the flesh. He injected the man with a stimpak and moved on to another patient.

[BaldurAnthology]

Greebo shook his head after the smack, and smiled again.

 

"Thanks, old boy. Glad you remember what to do when that happens. Now, let's see what I can do with you, mister Savaged." He started cleaning the wounds with alcohol, which would hurt but was necessary, and he injected a Med X and several stimpaks, binding the wounds as best he could while the stimpaks would heal the injury.

 

"There you are old boy. You should be well again by morning. Try and take it easy for a few days." He continued with the medical treatments, and commented to Jason,

 

"You are looking well, my boy. I wasn't expecting to see you here, heck I wasn't expecting to see myself here, hey? I was in the area on a contract for an escaped criminal, had just bagged him, and then saw a feral run by me. I went to where it had come from, one feral won't be of too much harm after all, and then saw the town under attack. Figured I'd lend aid where I could. What have you been doing with yourself?"

[Flipout6]

Jason was very focused on healing his patient. Surely Greebo knew he wasn't much one for talking? Out of respect, almost friendship, for the old ghoul Jason replied anyway.

 

"Helping out where I can. Doctoring, raider hunting, drifting. Not with the Bull or the Bear, the former for obvious reasons. The latter is corrupt, greedy." He said, his voice slightly less cold and hostile than usual. Those he respected or considered friends he tried being friendly with. And while it didn't make much of a difference, it was enough that people noticed, and acknowledged.

[Macman253]

Ronin sat down on a rock, the area around him littered with dead ghoul corpses and spent shell casings. He set his bow down next to him and reached into his rucksack and removed a recently caught squirrel and started to cook it. As he did Sam cam trotting over the hill, blood on his face from catching a rabbit and his tail wagging furiously. He was happy to see his friend alive.

 

"Hello Sam, looks like you got yourself a hare..." He said to the dog as he laid down on the otherside of the campfire.

 

Sam barked a response and looked over to see the other dogs and shot right up, his tongue lagging on the outside of his mouth.

 

The squirrel cooked well over the small burner, Ronin lost himself in cleaning and sharpening his arrowheads. Memories of the arena in Phoenix. Watching as his tribe was enslaved, he watched as they died of sickness and war. He laid his machete across his lap. He ran the whet stone across the edge slowly and with pressure. He wore out the nicks in the blade.

 

"A blade is not only an extension of a warriors arm, it is an extension of a warriors soul." The same saying rang in his head repeatedly as he ran his stone across the blade.

[BaldurAnthology]

Greebo patched up another patient, and said the same warning to him as he did the last one, telling him to be careful the next couple days and whatnot.

 

"Indeed old boy. Too many corrupt governments out here, hey what? I tell you though, you can't trust em. They always turn out to have some hidden agenda. Like that one squad master back in the war.." He trailed off mumbling to himself, not delusional, just not really willing to share most of the war with Jason yet.

 

"Don't take my lack of telling you about the war as sign of mistrust, old bean. I like you. You're honorable, and got a firm set of morals. You stick to your assignments, and you're a bloody good doctor when you need to be. Thing is, you and I only worked together on maybe one or two assignments, hey what? Enough to know we both have similar principals and are good in a fight, but not enough to have a full trust, particularly about our pasts." Greebo was of course referring to the last time he had asked Jason about his past.

[Flipout6]

"Everyone has secrets." Jason muttered under his breath. He wasn't sure whether he was referring to himself or the NCR. The Legion of course would have secrets, but probably not to the extent of their enemies. He only just heard the first bit of Greebo's muttering about the war, and didn't hear any of the rest, nor did he try to. He did, however, react to Greebo's thoughts about him. He was thought highly of, not as a superior but as a good man. Jason took it as a compliment, and he wasn't used to compliments.

 

He shifted a bit. "Feeling's mutual." He replied, his voice somewhat uneasy. He even meant the part about being a good doctor, Greebo was a fantastic first aider. He continued his work on his current patient, who had been short just below the heart. He had just barely managed to pull out the fragments when the man's heart stopped beating. Jason's face contorted, a mixture of many emotions, such as frustration, sadness, and determination. He grabbed a super stimpak and injected it into the heart. He was relieved when the heart started beating, and it showed on his face. He hit the wound with a stimpak to heal it up and moved the man to the side so he could continue to monitor him as he treated another.

 

"You're not dying today." He muttered audibly to himself.

[BaldurAnthology]

Noticing the returned compliment, Greebo smiled and when he saw Jason save the man with a quick use of a super stim, he clapped the man on the back with a chortle.

 

"I say, good CATCH boy! That was close, hey what? Now, lets see what I can do with you.." He set a sprained ankle, and moved on, not wasting any of the stims he had on a sprain. He continued until the supply of patients he was capable of treating was used up, and he sterilized his hands with alcohol.

 

"Now, unless you have any better ideas, and since that seems to be the last of the injured not being treated by the other Regulators, what say you and I go get a drink, eh boy? Don't worry, I won't tell then you're young." He teased, not being sure of Jason's exact age, but seeing as the ghoul was 230 years old, EVERYONE was young by comparison, except other ghouls.

[Flipout6]

Jason thought first to what would happen to the man whom he had just revived. He assigned Ada Strauss to watch over him. She needed the practise. He looked to Greebo and nodded. He took off his sunglasses (which were nearly impossible to see through from the outside.) revealing his dull blue eyes, just as cold as he himself was, and tucked them into a case in his breast pocket.

 

"Let's go." He said. "Not too much." He emphasized. He was no drunk, and he didn't allow himself to get drunk. Sometimes he just drank to take a bit of the edge off the day.

Edited October 22, 2012 by Flipout6