Hey everyone, I know last chapter was rather short, but I know it had been a while, and I was being hounded for an update, so I just submitted what I had written. Basically, if you ask me enough for an update, I will update, but it may not be great.

Section One

Quasar wondered what Elizabeth thought of Benjamin and Logan. Logan looked intimidating in his armor, and Quasar wondered how he had so many fusion cores to keep it running. He didn't ask, though, and was carrying a pile of scrap electronics in his arms as he and Logan reentered the apartment complex.

"Got the radio." Logan announced to Benjamin, who was asleep on a couch. "You two are welcome to sleep in a neighboring apartment," he offered the pair, and Elizabeth was half-asleep, a Nuka Cola in one hand and her other supporting her head.

"Yeah, just a night," Quasar said. Elizabeth got up and walked to the door. "Any good finds?" She rubbed her eyes, trying to push away her exhaustion. "He's a good kid," she told Logan.

Logan powered down his armor and walked to one of the drawers in what used to be the kitchen. "Okay," he said. He dug around for a small bag of caps. "Here you go, you two," he said. "Hope it wasn't trouble."

"Cut through those ferals like mutfruit," Quasar assured Logan.

Quasar and Elizabeth walked down a few doors until they came to the one Logan told them to occupy.

"They're trying to contact the Brotherhood you know." Quasar dumped the electronics he'd gathered onto a table. "This is a good place."

Elizabeth pulled a chair up to the table and sighed deeply. "I've never seen a kid that young so in love with the Brotherhood. Also, this is definitely a toaster." Elizabeth pushed one scrap electronic to the other side of the table.

"Logan is a nice enough man," Quasar told her. "They're like a grandpa and a puppy."

"This is a lithium power core," Elizabeth informed him. "Good job. But you know, if anybody had given me a choice, I would have opted out of the Institute way earlier."

"Do you agree with the Brotherhood?"

"No. Honestly, the only faction I've found to be honest was the Boston Railroad a few years back. The Institute did bad things, and the Brotherhood still does."

"Do you think helping those two get a radio was a bad idea?"

"I think those two have good intentions, but as a former Institute scientist, I'm sure they wouldn't love me or my work. The Brotherhood is thick skulled you know - it'll be hard to convince them that I haven't built a synth in years. I was under the impression that all existing synths had already been memory wiped, so I'm not sure the Brotherhood will have an easy time finding them."

"Well, listen," offered Quasar. "NYC could do without the slaver problems."

"For sure." Elizabeth was sorting the scrap electronics that Quasar had found in that vault, and most of it was shiny junk, but a few rare metals and plasma items were scattered about in the pile.

"Can I pour us both drinks?"

"Whiskey for me. Hey, good job," she told Quasar. "This is a box of ballistic fiber."

"of course," Quasar said. "I know all about that. You are welcome." He poured four shots of whiskey and took one. "I would take this time to bond and ask you about your childhood," he began.

Elizabeth took a shot as well.

"But after the mess that was that vault." He took another shot. "I'm looking to unwind."

Elizabeth took her last shot as well. "This is the first time we've had a time to relax since Jack left."

"Jack's not here, rent is free, and the railroad isn't going anywhere," Quasar listed. "Now that we're here – you want to do something?"

"Do I want to bang you?" Elizabeth clarified.

"I feel like it's what the people want. And when I say people, I mean me."

She stood up and grabbed Quasar lightly by his shirt. "I mean, I'm sure that ego comes from somewhere. Just so you know, we can't travel together if the sex is bad."

"I've got a 100% satisfaction rate, you know?"

Elizabeth pulled him a little closer into a kiss, just to gauge her chemistry with him; his stubble was scratchy against her face, but she didn't mind – it was endearing, in a way. "100%?"

"Well, you don't look like you're about to disagree with my rate."

Elizabeth figured she wouldn't have any complaints.

Section Two

"Look," said James. He wasn't wearing his duster, only dark pants and a white t-shirt, and his hat was on a table a few feet away from him. "I just think that towards the end, The Silver Shroud radio show got bad."

"There is nothing wrong with the Silver Shroud radio show," Svetlana shot back. "The ending was great."

The raider that James had strapped to a chair made a gargling noise.

"Will you shut up for a second?" James asked the raider, who looked like he had rabies. "Either tell me where the cache is or don't tell me anything."

Svetlana rolled her eyes and sat on the table, next to James' hat.

"I thought this thing would work." He knocked the mesmetron in his hand against the raider's chair. "Where's the cache?"

The raider only gargled in response, so James fired it against into the man's head.

It exploded, spraying onto James' shirt; his chest looked like a red and white Jackson Pollock painting. "Ah, damn. Svet, is it supposed to do that?"

"Nope," she said from the table, not looking up from the Silver Shroud comic she had been reading.

James' blond stubble was freckled with blood as well, and he wiped the raider's blood from his lips and forehead, leaving smears on his face. He kicked the dead raider's chair over and moved onto another raider, strapped to a chair in the same manner.

James blasted the mesmetron into that one's head, and she awoke with a start. "Where's the fusion core cache?"

She giggled.

"Svet, this is such a pain in my ass," James groaned. "I'm in the mood for a vodka. Or two. Or five, I don't know. One for each raider who's going to explode on me today."

"You want the cores, James? You have to interrogate the raiders."

"Lady?" James straight up hit her head with the mesmetron. She grunted, and Svetlana told him he was using it wrong. "Svet, are you in the mood for steak? Unrelated to this, I just got a craving for steak." He fired into the raider's head twice. "I fucking swear, Svet…"

The next raider exploded on him, dampening his shirt even more. "This is ridiculous – this shirt is new." He pulled it off, using it to wipe the blood off of his face. He walked to the third, last raider and untied him.

The raider woke up when James pulled him to his feet. "Give me your shirt," James said.

"What? Where am I!

James, shirtless and covered in smeared blood, repeated himself. The raider, in a confused panic, took off and gave his shirt to James, who slipped it over himself. It was a little loose, but it would work; it was a flannel, and Svet informed him that he looked like a lumberjack.

"Also, where's the cache?" James asked.

"What?"

"The cache of fusion cores. Where is it?"

"I don't know! You have to ask the boss! You have to ask Jackie, all right? The boss! Not me!" The raider looked at the two raiders dead beside him and winced. "Not me!"

"Where the fuck is Jackie?" James grabbed the raider's shoulder, since the raider was shirtless.

"Alphabet City! He's there!" The raider sputtered a panicked address. "Let me go!"

"Alright," said James. The raider looked relieved for a second, but then James pulled the sword from where it was sheathed at his hip and slit the raider's throat. The blood spurted onto James' new shirt.

James sheathed his sword and walked over to Svet. "I'm telling you, the last year of issues was trash."

"The ending was iconic, actually," Svet argued, but she seemed rather indifferent. "Are we going to that raider's address, then?"

"You fucking bet we are! Once I get, uh…. A shirt?"

"A shirt," agreed Svetlana.

Section Three:

Jack was deep in alphabet city, having overshot Vault 113 by a few blocks to follow up on a bounty Elizabeth talked about once. She saw a photo of a man with a wicked grin worth 2,000 caps dead, and she said, "I've seen him."

Now, Jack was only half sure what she meant. She had called him, the leader of a gang of raiders, a synth whose memory had been wiped. Wiped or not, Jack thought. I'll take him out. Jack had his shotgun out, his green jacket tied around his waist in the New York heat, and fingerless gloves wrapped around his shotgun's grip. He hadn't shaved or fixed his hair in a while, so his round cheeks were scruffy, and his hair was slicked back and longer than it should have been. Sunglasses covered his brown eyes.

Walking, Jack noticed a small figure grumbling something and walking in the same direction Jack was walking. The man was in an old t-shirt and jeans, and he was stretching his rotted hands behind his head.

"You walk like a smoothskin," the ghoul said casually, not turning around to look at Jack.

"I walk just fine," Jack muttered. "Why are you travelling unarmed?"

The ghoul turned around and examined Jack. "Unarmed, I can take out twice as many targets as you with that big gun."

"Whatever you say." Jack tried to speed up, but the ghoul easily kept pace with him.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you strike me as the kind of guy who doesn't remember when he shot something versus stuck his dick in it," said the ghoul, Gordon. Jack said nothing, and Gordon said, "Hey, you didn't correct me."

"Do you have somewhere better to be?" asked Jack.

Gordon shrugged, and Jack noticed that he could see Gordon's muscles through his skin. It was fascinating, but Jack didn't quite know if he liked it or not. "Are you collecting that raider bounty?" Gordon asked.

"Maybe," Jack responded. "If I run into them on the way to where I'm going."

"Make sure you don't mistake killing and fucking," Gordon suggested. "Boys like you tend to."

"Great, thank you, can you piss off?" Gordon watched Jack's knuckles turn white as they gripped his shotgun's grip.

"Smoothskins are like accordions," Gordon informed him. "You can push whatever button you want and they make pretty pissy noise."

"An accor-what? You know what?" Jack raised his shotgun and aimed it at Gordon's torso, and Gordon looked unphased.

"This always happens to me," he complained. He stepped to the side and twisted his arms around the shotgun, then stepped again so that it was pried out of Jack's grip. Gordon threw it on the sidewalk and slid it a few feet away with his foot. "Enjoy your bounty, smoothskin."

Gordon spun around and wandered off in the opposite direction. Jack stood, slightly confused, wondering if he knew that ghoul from somewhere.

He picked his gun up, dusted it off, and continued in his direction.

Section Three: Part Two

A female raider with a Mohawk was turning a bat over in her hands. It was heavy and wrapped in barbed wire, and she was grinning wickedly at the bloodstains on the bat.

A man strolled over and smiled at her. He was pale and plain with dark hair and blue eyes, and he wouldn't be remotely memorable if it hadn't been for his lips. His lips were painted red, widening his smile. He leaned on a table and poked the bat with one of his fingers. "Cool bat, kiddo." He was in a pre-war suit, and he looked a cross between malicious and dapper. "I'm real into the boxing ring right now. You should give it a shot. I'd love to see you splatter somebody's brains onto the wall."

"You're too sweet, Jackie," said the woman.

Another raider, this one charming and in leathers, ran into the room. "Moxie, Jackie!" he announced. "There's a man in the compound shooting up our guys."

"There's a what!" snapped Jackie. "Fuck me with that bat, Moxie! Get out there and stop the guy!"

The charming man and Moxie both stood up and rushed towards the door, and Jackie slipped his long barreled silver revolver into his hand. "Ready or not," he grumbled, following his two companions out of the door.

Moxie sprinted far ahead while Jackie walked slowly behind, stepping meticulously towards the sound of gunfire. He heard Moxie shout something, and made sure his gun was loaded.

Jack was sweating, his hands hastily loading two more bullets into his shotgun. There was somebody else's blood on his cheek, and he was breathing heavily. The compound was large and full of corners to run around, and it was starting to wear out Jack. His fingerless gloves were damp, and his chest was beginning to feel hot under his jacket.

He had to force himself to his feet when Moxie turned the corner, raising her baseball bat above her head. Jack rolled himself out of the way and watched the baseball bat hit the floor behind him. He lifted his gun and fired into Moxie's leg, and he would have missed if it weren't for the spread. Bullets grazed Moxie's leg and torso, but it didn't stop her from coming at Jack, and it didn't cripple her as much as he'd hoped it would.

Moxie raised the bat behind her, ready to bring it down on Jack again, and he couldn't reload, so he got to his feet and ran. Moxie, having been shot, found herself too injured to chase after Jack.

Jackie, her boss, shortly walked into the clearing. "Did you get him?" he asked.

Moxie shook her head.

"Can you run after him?"

When she shook her head again, Jackie promptly shot her. "What a mess," he grumbled. "What a damn, damn, mess."

Jack was winded. He was tired, out of breath, and mad at himself for failing. He was running low on bullets, and he knew what he had to do next.

He was six minutes from Vault 113 and couldn't think of anywhere between his current location and his destination, and so he started to walk.

When he finally got to Vault 113 he saw the closed doors, fell to his knees, and immediately passed out.

Section Four:

David was sitting by the hospital bed that the unnamed stranger was laying in. "Do you think he's a raider?" David asked Cam, who was sitting next to him.

"He looks like he barely got away from them," Cam informed him. But still, as a precaution, they had the man's gun confiscated and his right hand handcuffed to the hospital bed.

"Where's Sarah?" Cam asked.

"Teaching the locals how to use their technology," replied David. "You think Coltrane is doing alright?"

"Definitely."

"So, where are we headed after this, Cam?" David asked.

"Should we do something to help Sarah find somebody who can repair a synth?" Cam thought about it and then shook her head. "I wouldn't know how to find scientists."

David almost replied, but the unconscious man stirred awake. He tugged against the handcuff and looked at David, and then Cam. "Who are you? Fuck!" He tried to unchain his hand again. "Are you raiders?"

David stood and pulled a gun to point at Jack. "Calm down, friend, you're in Vault 113."

Jack's eyes widened, and he demanded, "Where's Javael?"

"Javelin?" Cam frowned.

"No, Cliff Evans. He's supposed to be here. There's a bounty on his head. Unchain me," Jack sat up and then sighed. "I'm following a bounty here."

"We got that," said David. "We're not really residents here so we can't help you much, kid. We're probably going to leave by the end of today."

Jack groaned and fell onto his back. "I'm trying to find Javael Evans, do you know him?"

"No," said David. "We're looking for an institute scientist," he countered. "Do you know one?"

Jack went silent. "Yeah."

"He's lying," said Cam.

"Help me get Javael's bounty and maybe I'll introduce you two," Jack offered. "I know where she's going."

David shook his head. "I don't know if we can trust him."

"You're not the one tied to a bed," Jack grumbled. "Undo the handcuff and help me get my bounty."

David apprehensively undid the handcuff, and then almost said something, but he was cut off by the unmistakable blare of an alarm.

Hey, since a lot of characters' reviewers aren't commenting, I may kill off a couple characters and then reopen submissions. But the most active commenters/PMers are probably James and Svetlana's submitter, Quasar and Cam's submitter, Jack's submitter, and Ben and Logan's submitter. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

And just to keep you all invested, I have a 'question of the chapter' to ask you all!

QOTC: What is your character's favorite food and drink in the wasteland?