Joyus of Joys kaboose has come back chapter in hand for the game he has been to busy playing to write...
and THAT'S my excuse...
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Chapter 1: Survivors
It wasn't like he had ran away and started hunting deathclaws or anything: but, the fact that his entire town had wasted resources to send a pip-boy only radio signal simply looping "Come Home Damion" was stupid beyond belief. Just because no one else in town had balls enough to stand up to a bunch of self fulfilling raiders. When he proposed the raid (irony wasn't very hard to wastelanders) he was grounded: no hunts, no weapons, no leaving the house.
But hey good ol' American ingenuity eh? He'd used popular wasteland schematics and tinkered a bit until he was ready to leave and left a note as he crawled out his window.
"Going to the raider offices to kick some ass.
Be back in a week.
Only took 'lurk meat and a couple of water bottles.
Don't worry about running out of food.
-Damion"
So here he was medical bag with stimpacks, chems, and food. Courier bag with his makeshift guns, (railway rifle, and Dart gun) grenades and mines, a deathclaw gauntlet, (the hand was a bitch to find) and a magical (wasteland humor again) flaming sword in his makeshift sheath. He wore light leather armor under a pre-war hoodie (lord knows how it survived) and some fancy slacks.
All this stuff was pretty baggy on his thin frame. The hoodie and the bangs of his shaggy black hair was enough to shelter his eyes but the heat was miserable.
And then he saw the Office Building (heavily fortified of course).
He really hoped the raiders had air conditioning.
Two and a half months earlier…
Rat hated boats. It wasn't as if he got seasick or anything, far from it, he'd already rode small skiffs while reclaiming Alaska for the brotherhood.
To replace elder robes they'd started modifying the old fashion enclave general quotes with power armor parts to make council members ready if the Chinese forces or enclave came to assassinate him and rat didn't know whether it was disturbing or honorable to be wearing one. Seriously he wasn't a leader he was an assassin a man of brains and deadly reflexes. He wasn't built to lead these hundreds of power armored troops down the pacific through the panama canal and up the Atlantic to D.C. this wasn't worth snuffing out any rebellion.
God damn it he doesn't need to be on a boat for three months.
Damion could barely recall what had happened, he had been lobbing explosives an generally kicking ass…
And then he woke up in the alley without a left hand.
Enclave black ops (as if there was any other kind these days) officer David "Cutthroat" Aero had just finished slitting the throats (nickname deserved) of several Brother hood knights when something dragged him from his mission.
The man, no thing, was twitched with every movement. He seemed to predict the circle of Talon Company squad's shots before they came. He could only get shots off from the shoddy .32 pistol when someone reloaded and he reloaded every time he dodged.
He had shaggy hair, shaggier than the style was these days, all the way down to the tops of his shoulder blades. He wore a very worn very loose Brahmin shin outfit.
And then the amazing happened.
Daniel watched as a red vapor came from the barrel of a laser rifle straight to the… things head. Then, it bounced, as if it had hit a mirror, and struck another talon's head.
Daniel used a device to call his squad and capture this wasteland freak. He pulled out his plasma pistol and killed the talons one shot at a time until they were all in a heap around the telepath.
Research time has upon him…