PSL post for daughterless

[leanonstuff]

[The NCR had sent Norman to the Vault because the area was surrounded by Fiends, and he was damn good at blending among the various "criminal" groups around the Mojave. No way an ordinary NCR trooper would be able to get inside without being attacked. And according to their intelligence, exactly what was inside was of such great importance that they couldn't possibly wait to go after it just in case Caesar's Legion got wind of it and acted first. Norman was searching for a box of special bottles that appeared to be beer or vodka bottles, but were actually filled with a chemical that, when introduced into a water supply, could spread a deadly bacteria that would wipe out anyone who drank the contaminated water for at least a month.

Unfortunately, finding the bottles was turning out to be far more difficult that Norman had anticipated. He'd gotten into the Vault in the first place by wearing old, torn and dirty clothes that could pass as those a typical raider or Fiend might wear. He'd even bought a few chems from them to help gain their trust (and to use them later, though he planned to tell the NCR that he'd disposed of them instead). The Vault seemed to be empty of Fiends, luckily, but he wasn't too optimistic that he wouldn't eventually run into ghouls or worse.

10mm pistol in hand, Norman opens the door to the Vault infirmary, hoping he might have some more luck locating the bottles in there.]

Comments

[daughterless]

[After many years of smuggling runs and many dead raiders, Joel and the Fiends have come to an understanding. It goes something like: I won't try to kill you if you don't try to kill me (oh, and sometimes we supply each other with drugs). It's held up okay so far, and he can move through their territories without too much harassment, which is why, he assumes, he was the one who got contacted for this job.

Retrieval isn't really his specialty, but hell, pickings had been slim lately and the promise of a fat stack of caps (with a hefty up-front payment) had been tempting enough that he doesn't bother inquiring too closely into why some fat cat collector wants a hundred-something year old bottle of irradiated whiskey. The Vault itself is already unsealed and surprisingly full of goods worth grabbing-- someone had cleared this place in a hurry and hadn't bothered cleaning up after themselves. He's picking things up as he goes, taking his time to thoroughly search the place when he hears the creak of the infirmary door and immediately ducks behind a low table.

Who was it, some cracked out Fiend looking for a safe place to shoot up? The man entering the room looks the part, but doesn't move like he's high out of his mind. Eyes narrowing, Joel draws his own pistol, creeping forward... and CRUNCH goes an empty syringe under his boot.

Shit.]

[leanonstuff]

[As he wanders through the infirmary, Norman picks up various medicines and looks them over. He pockets a Med-X, but leaves most of the other stuff where it is. Naturally, the bottles he's searching for won't be clearly on display... they're almost certainly locked up somewhere. Norman's eyes fix on a wall safe, and he walks over to investigate.

The locks appears relatively complex, but nothing someone with his level of training in lockpicking can't handle. After glancing over his shoulder one more time to make sure nothing's about to sneak up on him, Norman rests his pistol down on a nearby table and pulls out a bobby pin and a torque. He starts to work carefully at the lock, when the sound of glass crunching makes him freeze. He quickly removes his tools from the lock and grabs his 10mm again, aiming it in the general direction of the sound.]

Shit...

[It's dark in the Vault, but a feral ghoul wouldn't be able to sneak, not only because it lacks the mental capacity to think of it, but because the sound it makes would give it away. No, now he's starting to suspect there might be someone else creeping around... maybe someone who noticed the Vault had been opened and wanted their share of the loot.

The thought that another human might be in the room with him encourages Norman to duck down in the event that he might come under fire. It also gets him to speak up.]

Who's there? Whoever you are, if you shoot, I'm taking you down with me.

[daughterless]

[Joel had immediately reversed direction, sliding back around the other side of the table in hopes of flanking him. He'd been more or less gearing up to shoot the man, but then he calls out and...

Doesn't sound like a raider. Joel's generally good at trusting his gut on these things. He considers shooting anyway, just to be on the safe side, but the go-between for the client had emphasized stealth for the job, and there's no telling what might come investigating at the sound of gunshots.]

Who the hell are you?

[leanonstuff]

[So the man didn't shoot right away... that's a good sign. But this is still a very delicate situation. Norman remains ducked down behind a counter, not about to let his guard down at all just because the man is open to dialogue.]

None of your goddamn business.

[He knows he needs to sound kinda rough if he wants to come off as a Fiend, or a raider at the least. Whoever this is probably is one as well... but he doesn't want to announce any particular affiliation without some sort of confirmation of that fact.]

Just stay outta my way, and I'll stay outta yours. How's that sound?

[Norman doesn't care if someone else raids every last thing or worth from this place so long as he finds the bottles. And how many raiders, Fiends or prospectors have any level of lockpicking skill? Surely the bottles are locked away... it should be fine.]

[daughterless]

[Well if that doesn't sound suspicious as all hell. Joel's seen people fight to the death over a casket of fresh water. It's a rare explorer who's willing to live and let live while divvying up the spoils.

But assuming the man means what he said and isn't intending on shooting him in the back as soon as he turns, it's not a bad deal. There's enough useful junk to go around, and he'd waste less ammo on roaches or ghouls if someone else was also clearing them out. Joel is past his raiding days; he's not really interested in adding any more to his body count without reason.

Slowly, Joel rises out of his hiding spot, gun cocked and aimed. He doesn't look much like a raider, or a military man, just a hard-bitten survivor.]

Fine. You got yourself a truce. [For now.]

[leanonstuff]

[When Joel rises to his feet, Norman gets a glimpse of him from his cover. A bit older... definitely doesn't have the look of a raider or a Fiend. And if he's working for Caesar, there's no obvious indication of that either.

Still, he's also suspicious of anyone willing to agree to a truce in these sorts of circumstances. Perhaps against his better judgment, Norman also rises from his cover, though he's prepared to duck back down and shoot at a moment's notice.]

Right.

[And now, he needs to get back to busting into the infirmary safe. Can't do that with this guy breathing down his neck.]

Mind clearing out of here?

[daughterless]

[So he could get back to cracking open that safe? Well, it's no skin off his nose. Joel had just been doing a bit of scrounging on the side; he rather doubts he'd be finding some expensive bottles of whiskey or whatever in the doctor's labs. Besides, the safe looked pretty sturdy and his usual methods of breaking locks are limited to grenades and the occasional prybar, neither of which seemed like a viable choice.

He gives Norman a long, hard look, just to emphasize that he isn't about to be dismissed that easily, before making his way to the door.]

Alright, I'll let you have some privacy.

[Nothing in there left for him, he rounds the corner and finds himself in the living quarters. There are beds and blankets strewn everywhere-- oh, and suitcases and lockers too. Perfect for someone's secret booze stash. He starts rummaging with a will, pocketing whatever looks like it might come in handy-- an extra clip of ammo, a stimpack...]

[leanonstuff]

[He lets out a sigh of relief when the other looter clears out without much trouble. Norman didn't want to have to kill him... he didn't seem like such a bad guy. And just in case he was a good shot, it'd be better not to have to do this search while dealing with a bullet hole or two.

It takes a few minutes for him to finally pick the lock, at which point he lets out a groan of disappointment to find it full of nothing but stimpacks and and more Med-X. He pockets one of the stims this time, and leaves the safe open just in case the other guy comes back looking for something useful.

As it turns out, Norman's wanderings also take him to the living quarters. He feels like he's about to have a heart attack when he walks into the same room as Joel, not having seen the man at first in the shadows.]

Fuck! Didn't think I'd run into you again.

[The fact that the guy is still here has him worrying about the possibility of him finding the bottles first. Maybe it'd be best to keep an eye on him... surely he wouldn't know what the bottles were if they found them together, and Norman could bargain to keep them for himself.]

I'm starting to think we should search this place together. Y'know, just so I don't accidentally shoot you next time you startle me.

[daughterless]

[Joel had half drawn his pistol at the sound of approaching footsteps before realizing it was the same guy as before. His offer of teaming up is pretty half-hearted, but Joel considers it all the same. He'd run guns and drugs with a partner before, sometimes with good results. And sometimes not so good results, and Joel had needed to bust some kneecaps before wrapping up the deal.

He doesn't know which category this guy falls into: reliable or incompetent, steady or greedy, but Joel supposes it doesn't really make a difference in the end. Friends close. Enemies closer.]

Ain't a bad idea. Might be worth joinin' up, just for the time being.

[But he doesn't like to work with folks til he knows what they're after. A little too casually, he adds:] You looking for anything in particular?

[leanonstuff]

[Likewise, Norman has plenty of experience working in pairs. The NCR often sent troopers out together on missions, because even for someone well-armed and armored, the Wasteland was nowhere to be on one's own. These sorts of missions were special exceptions. Norman knows he's taking a huge risk taking on something like this, but the rewards are too good to pass up.]

Yeah, might as well.

[Joel's question gives him pause, however. His lips form a thin line as he considers his response. If they're looking for the same thing, there might be a problem.]

You know... booze, chems. Whatever I can sell for a nice pile of caps. These Vaults always have the good stuff. Tell you what. You help watch my back, and I'll give you a cut of whatever I find in the safes. Can't get those open yourself, can you?

[And he'll just hope the bottles he's looking for are locked up. That'd give him first dibs on them.]

[daughterless]

Works for me.

[Joel shrugs, more or less agreeable, and sets about digging through the next unopened crate. Mentally, he makes a note of that hesitation. The guy's hiding something. Might be important, might not.

He's just turned up a handful of Rad X... a lot of Rad X (who even needs this much?) when there's a shuffling sound and a thump from outside of the room.]

[leanonstuff]

Glad to hear it.

[Norman meanwhile starts rummaging through the dressers and wardrobes. Pre-war clothes... pre-war money... and a bunch of other worthless knick-knacks.]

I'm not finding much over here. We'll probably need to get deeper-

[He cuts off suddenly at the sound of the thump outside the room.]

...The hell was that? [Was there someone else here too? Or something? Norman draws his pistol and steps cautiously toward where Joel is, nearer to the entrance of the room.]

I thought this place was empty. At least, I hoped it was.

[daughterless]

Well, that ain't no radroach out there.

[He keeps his voice low, but a dubious edge creeps in anyway. Maybe not a radroach, but could be a ghoul or scorpion nest up ahead... or something worse. You never know what you'd find in these old vaults. Joel's drawn his revolver as well, and his eyes flick back to Norman before-- oh, fuck it. This isn't an ideal place to have any sort of shootout, and he wants a better idea of what they're facing before either one of them does anything rash.]

I'm gonna check it out.

[He hisses to Norman and makes a 'moving forward' hand gesture, and... does pretty much exactly that, edging around the corner of the room to peer cautiously out the side of the door.]

PART 2

[leanonstuff]

[Norman quickly comes to loathe having to duck out of sight every time he and Joel come across an NCR patrol. While he doesn't know how far word might've spread among the lower levels, his assumption is that they either have orders to shoot and kill on sight, or capture him. Neither option sounds pleasant when he's probably been labelled as some sort of terrorist. Goddamn it.

It's a particularly hot day in the desert today. Norman hadn't gotten much sleep in that cave, and he's quickly tiring as they walk, sweat soaking through the cheap clothes he'd been wearing as a disguise during his foray into the Vault. For the umpteenth time, he and Joel find themselves crouching behind a bunch of rocks as another NCR patrol goes by. Norman really isn't taking well to being a fugitive, and he still hasn't come up with a plan to keep Joel from abandoning him.

With a sigh, he uncaps a bottle of water from the cave and takes a small sip.]

What a nightmare... there are more of them out than usual. I wonder if they're looking for me.

[daughterless]

[The NCR patrolmen are better trained than Joel expected, and there's a whole mess of them out in force today. Even now, with the two of them more than a few miles down the road, it's still brown uniforms and rifles as far as the eye can see. Funnily enough, it makes him put more stock in Norman's story about the bottles. Not that he hadn't believed him before, but... it's one thing to say that the innocuous looking dusty bottles in his pack were some kind of bioweapon, another entirely to see what looked like half the NCR soldiers in the area trawling through the desert to find them.]

Maybe. It ain't a theory I'd care to test out.

[As a smuggler, sleepless nights and days spent crouched in improbable hiding spots are the norm and not the exception, but Joel's starting to feel the strain as well, a bone-deep ache in his body and heaviness in his eyes. Blinking heavily, he resists the urge to yawn and instead listens for the steps of boots on sand to die away.]

A few miles south and we're in Viper territory. [Which wouldn't deter the troops out here-- hell, nobody really gave a damn about the Vipers anymore.] Past that, there's a trainyard and a Legion raiding camp. Now, I ain't sayin' we have to go say hi, but we might go quicker stickin' close to their territory.

[leanonstuff]

I'd rather not test them either.

[Norman takes one more sip before capping the bottle and putting it back in his pack. He then wipes some sweat from his brow, uselessly, since it'll be back right when they start walking in the sun again.]

We might be okay with the Vipers, actually. I'm good at blending with raiders, remember?

[They at least won't fire on him on sight. He's made some connections within most of the groups surrounding Vegas for spying purposes, which should hopefully keep them safe along the way.]

What about you? Any reason they'd want you dead?

[Other than the Vipers, he's still wary about sticking to Legion territory despite Joel's earlier assurances. What if Joel is wanted by them like Norman is by the NCR? Then they'll really be fucked.]

[daughterless]

[Joel grimaces. He should've known this would come back to bite him in the ass sometime.]

"Okay" ain't exactly the word I'd use. Can't say I'm on the best of terms with the Vipers.

[Unlike the Fiends, who Joel had struck up a tentative sort of cease-fire with via chems and threats, he'd tangled with the Vipers on more than one occasion, usually over him doing business out in their territory and the occasional missing shipment. It hadn't been a big deal; they didn't have the numbers to retaliate or make an example out of him and he wasn't planning on going after them, so they more or less coexisted in a state of simmering hostility. But they'd as soon as shoot him in the head as look at him, and that might turn out to be a real problem.

But they are a better (and safer) bet than braving either one of the big powers around here. And hell, he's been operating out of this area for years and hadn't gotten himself any worse than a few bullet scars and the one time he'd gotten stabbed in the gut. Yet says a little voice in his head, the smart part of him that knows better than to tempt fate, but he brushes it aside.]

But I'll take that chance. Worst comes to worst, we'll split up if we have to. You can keep 'em busy while I get past.

[leanonstuff]

Not many people are.

[The Viper's might not be as much of a threat as the NCR, Legion or Fiends, but they have decent armor and weapons. Depending on your luck, a single shot can do you in, so Norman isn't eager to take any chances with them either.]

I guess that'd work... but I'd rather not split up if it can be helped.

[The NCR patrol is out of sight by now, so Norman pushes himself to his feet with a sigh. He'd do anything for a nice bed right now, or even just a soak in a cool (not irradiated) lake. Unfortunately, there's no choice but to keep moving. Norman tries not to drag his feet as they head South along the sides of the road toward Viper territory.]

Shit... I miss California. I'm not cut out for living in a desert.

[daughterless]

[Joel glances over at Norman and doesn't say: Afraid that I'm gonna change my mind and ditch you at the first sign of trouble? If he were in the other man's shoes, that's what he'd be thinking. He can't lie and say that it hadn't been on his mind (he's crazy and this is crazy and they're both going to get shot down like dogs), but...

Well, he's still here. And they're not dead yet. He shifts the strap of his shotgun from left to right, redistributing the weight of it along his shoulders, and soldiers on.]

This place is a shithole all right. [As a general rule, Joel doesn't ask about other people's histories (it's none of his goddamn business, and asking invites questions about himself), but it's been a long and grueling trudge south and they've got nothing better to do than dodge NCR patrols for the next few hours. And he's... well, curious ain't quite the right word for it. But he does wonder a little what it's like out west, where the NCR had full control.] How long you been out here?

[leanonstuff]

[Norman usually likes to give people the benefit of the doubt, but after everything that's happened, he's putting a wary foot forward. Especially since the bottles are in Joel's pack and not his own. He might've insisted on carrying them himself, but there's actually something strategic about doing it this way. While the Legion might not be too well-informed about what happened seeing as they killed the guys at the gas station, the NCR are plenty aware. So even if he was to be killed or captured, at least Joel could still keep the bottles safe. Norman at least trusts that he won't go giving them to the Legion now.]

Yeah, it sure is. [Desert, plenty of mutated creatures running free, hostile entities everywhere... you don't see wildness like that in California. Where the NCR has the strongest hold, those kinds of threats have long since been squashed.]

Only about a year. They sent me out here once things started to get really serious with the Fiends.

[And thanks to his help, they'd managed to take out some of the leaders. Unfortunately, they seem to grow back like the heads of a hydra.]

What about you? Or were you born out here?

[daughterless]

[He wonders idly how many other spies the NCR has got prowling these parts. It makes him uneasy-- he'll have to tighten up his operation when all this craziness dies down and he gets back to business.

Came out west with a caravan some years back. Been here since.

[And that's all he'll say about it. Better if he can keep the discussion focused on Norman.] Takin' care of the Fiends, huh? Do I got you to thank for all that ruckus back last winter?

[He keeps his ear to the ground, like all smugglers, but it didn't take any information brokering to see that something had been up. Some kind of territorial spat with the NCR, he'd thought, but then the Fiends had gone on a rampage, killing folks left, right and center before suddenly fading away. Things had been quieter since, but Joel never does trust that sort of peace to last.

Speaking of which, it is really too goddamn quiet right now. With a sharp inhale, he stops short, listening, trying to make out something beyond the crunch of sand under their shoes. The crunch of sand under someone else's shoes, trying to move stealthily--!]

[leanonstuff]

[There actually aren't as many as one would think. Spying on the Legion is pretty much impossible because of how they structure themselves and deal with their recruits. As for spying on other groups, not too many people are as dedicated as Norman is when it comes to learning how to blend in with them and gather information. His lockpicking ability is also unusual within the NCR.]

Oh, huh.

[He's planning on asking more questions, but Joel's diverts his attention. It doesn't really register that he might purposefully be trying to keep the topic off himself.]

I was part of it, yeah. Risky job, but they were getting out of control. ...More out of control than usual.

[Norman likes to think he's a pretty perceptive guy, but Joel apparently has him beat, because he's confused at first why the other man suddenly stopped. He shoots him a curious look, before hearing the quiet sounds as well.

And then a moment later, the sound of gunfire suddenly erupts from behind.]

Oh fuck! [He runs for cover behind a nearby boulder while readying his rifle hurriedly. There's a sharp pain in one of his arms as he does so, but it hasn't yet really registered that he'd been shot there.]

[daughterless]

[Despite being the one to notice their attackers, Joel's slower to react and get the hell out of the way. A bullet clips his ribs, and a second-- he hisses as pain blooms in his leg and the knee buckles before he can hobble away.]

Fuck!

[He lets himself fall, using the momentum to roll onto his back, drawing his gun to fire back. At the very least, he wouldn't be going down without a fight.

His first shot rings into the empty air, but there's a cry of pain the second time he pulls the trigger and he focuses on the dark shape taking shelter behind some scrubby brush, trying to land another hit. At the same time, he tries to scoot away, grunting with pain at his injured leg and hoping against hope that they wouldn't be too badly outnumbered. Norman looks to have made it to cover, but he's a sitting duck out here.]

[leanonstuff]

[Norman catches a glimpse of one of the attackers before firing off a few shots in his direction. From what he can see, they're Vipers... which either means they'd seen Joel and decided to attack, or maybe the NCR had paid some off to keep an eye out for them. It's just a guess, but at this point, he can't really trust the NCR won't stoop to any low.]

Oh shit... [He seems to have taken one of them out, or at least injured them, but a glance shows that Joel is hurt and out in the open. No, this isn't how it's gonna end! He won't allow it!

Forcing himself to ignore the now searing pain in is bicep, Norman darts behind another rock, making enough noise to catch the attention of their final pursuer. Several bullets hit the dust behind him, barely missing as he makes for cover. The attacker has a clear advantage over him now... showing his head would be basically asking for death.]

[daughterless]

[Ignoring the sharp twinge of his ribs, Joel scrabbles for his pack for his last smoke bomb. From the sound of bullets over his head, Norman had drawn their fire and he's damn grateful for that fact as he tries to set the bomb, fumbles the pin, and detonates it practically right next to him.

Immediately he covers his mouth, closing his eyes so that the first rush of bitter smoke doesn't get into his lungs. On the plus side, the white fog keeps him hidden as he begins to drag himself back to some cover, hoping that the continuing sounds of gunfire would be enough to mask the crunch of dry dirt beneath his body. The smoke also hampers his vision, and he gropes around like a blind man before his hand falls upon something rough and flat, at head level. It'll do. He pulls himself to his feet.... or foot, more like, hobbling behind what turns out to be a large boulder, and takes the opportunity to reload, listening hard all the while for sounds of further movement. He doesn't know where Norman has got to, and doesn't fancy shooting the other man on accident. They should come up with a signal or something... shit.

The smoke is gone by now, but he doesn't know where Norman or the other shooter's got to. Cautiously, he peers over the edge of the boulder, ready to duck back down at the first hint of trouble.]