Be Vewy Vewy Quiet, I'm Hunting Waiders!
Deacon and James crouched hidden in the bushes. James was smiling at his handy work while Deacon just stared at the eyesore of a contraption. James had called it a "raider cage". Perfect for attracting the scum of the Commonwealth. It was filled with an assortment of chems. There was Jet, Buffout, and Psycho along with some of the rarer ones such as Overdrive. It was covered is colorful neon signs that exclaimed "Jet here" and "Free Chems" with a blinking marquee sign pointing to the entrance. A few feet away, a generator hummed away.
"Well, I'm impressed." commented Deacon. "Do you think it'll work?"
James laughed. "Of course it will! This isn't my first raider cage."
Deacon thought for a second. "You done this before?"
"I capture raiders and let them loose in an arena. I make them fight each other for their freedom. Winner gets a reward and their freedom, loser dies, and I get to be amused."
This earned him a look a disbelief from his companion. "I can't tell if your lying to me or not. If you are, I clearly need to take some lessons from you and step up by game."
"And if I'm not?"
"I'm going to find you a therapist."
James shrugged in response before perking up at the sound of voices. There were two raiders nearby staring at the metal cage.
"Holy shit! Look at all those chems!"
"I know!" There was a brief pause as one of them contemplated the situation. "Do you think it's a trap?"
"Nah. Nobody would be stupid enough to make such an obvious one."
In bushes, James pouted while Deacon snickered.
"True." Conceded the raider. The two entered the cage and began stuffing their pockets.
James carefully crept forward from the bushes and turned off the generator. The sliding metal door on the cage fell with a loud clang.
"Motherfucker!" There was the sound of fists banging against the door. "Forget the drugs, help me get this open!" Barked one of the raiders.
"Dude, we're clearly trapped. Either we get out or we don't. Might as we enjoy it." The second raider rummaged through one of the boxes. The first one sighed.
"Pass the Jet."
James reclined against a nearby tree while Deacon stretched his legs.
"Just got to wait for them to blackout and we can take them back to Carrington." The Sole Survivor pulled two nuka-colas out of his backpack and handed one to Deacon before sipping his own.
"How can you afford all this? Seriously, there had to be a few thousand caps worth of drugs in there." inquired Deacon.
"Do you have any idea how much stuff I find? Killing people is profitable!" James grabbed his syringer and began to load it with lock-joint darts.
"I also make enough jet to keep the entire Commonwealth high."
Deacon choked on his drink. "What?"
James eyed Deacon before smiling. "I said 'I reinvest liquid capital into small, but growing businesses to support the creation of new jobs throughout the Commonwealth'."
The Sole Survivor stood up and grabbed his rifle. "Let's get these two back to the good doctor."
(A/N: I love comments. Praise or criticism, I welcome it all!)
