CHAPTER 38
Prowlers.
Sanford had heard stories that a little while after the war had ended, the fallout settled, and people started to get their acts together- that some birds and insect life survived in large enough numbers, that you could hear somewhat of an excuse of pre-War nature during the day and night.
A shadow of their former selves- crickets and grasshoppers sung at night, some birds chirped during the day alongside mutated cicadas.
-But when the years kept on rolling by, and the precursors to today's powers and civilizations solidified their holdings, and the Master was ended in the west- the wastes became quieter and quieter.
Trees became grayed and leafless- still alive, but clinging to mutated genes that constantly reworked the inner mechanics of the plants to keep them going. The weather got pretty messed up, and it diverged greatly by geography depending on where you were.
The Commonwealth was apparently a very- 'Sunny'- place in comparison to the rest of the East Coast.
All the merchants that Sanford had talked to throughout the years had earned him stories of the grayed sky of Washington, Virginia and Maryland- the amber, smog-filled hell that hung over Pittsburg and most of the Canadian borders.
People said that the West was usually darker, strangely, OUTSIDE the deserts- where in said sandpits it was brighter, the weather clearer. He had heard tales of a great city established there, greater than Diamond- the Hub, and a city of Ghouls, all members of the New California Republic.
The Brotherhood supposedly persisted there in a fleeting manner- as far as Sanford knew, there were five or six varying factions of the Brotherhood that existed across the country- he had only heard stories of the Mideast and Midwest Chapters.
He had come across members of the Eastern Chapter before- they were usually gruff people, they referred to him as- 'Local' -and it just seemed that the Brotherhood liked to spit praise all over themselves and belittle everyone around them.
Like most people in the wastes- Sanford did not LIKE, the Brotherhood, in any way.
They were self-rightious pricks who considered salvaging pre-War technology and rebuilding humanity's ability to technologically sustain themselves worth more than human lives- even the Eastern Chapter, the same that had broken away from the Mideast to do the exact OPPOSITE, still wasn't very good at it.
The Brotherhood were so stuck in their ways that they actually caused a lot of problems in areas they entered as much as they solved others- every military operation that they had partaken in, Sanford sneeered at towards its details.
Merchants were talking for awhile about the Mideastern Brotherhood plowing through Pittsburg- and there were all kinds of stories going around about 'Population Cleansing'- and it became pretty obvious that some Paladins had not distinguished properly slavers, from locals- in the idea of saving slaves.
Sanford was no miracle worker- and he had never entered a fight that spanned a whole city and had prevailed through it- but, not for nothing, there was a reason the Commonwealth was as quiet as it was, for what little it was worth.
Sanford had become good at his profession- which was an amalgamate of things- vigilante, scavenger, monster killer- and he had been doing it long enough that the Commonwealth was a whole lot better than it had been before he showed up.
Out of that whole time, Sanford had done some questionable things- but, blatant killing of people not actively hostile? Execution of unarmed enemy combatants, who didn't DESERVE it? 'Requisitioning' of local people's property? Imposing his laws on others?
-For all the justice doing the Brotherhood talked about, they had a fucking shitty way of going about it.
In addition- Sanford had never insulted or called out a Ghoul for being exactly what they were- a Ghoul -in his entire life- Sanford had made good friends with a lot of Ghouls, and the Brotherhood wished to persecute them.
A horror show. Even the 'Good Guys'- had these traits that just said- 'I'm an animal' -all over the place.
The way Sanford saw it, the real good deeds came down to individual people- not any of the powers across the country, not even the Minutemen, or Diamond City.
That was kind of the precursor reasoning for him doing what he did- Sanford for a good while tried to simply survive, to deal with the terrible things happening across the Commonwealth- but once he and Hancock got their acts together, he stopped just 'Accepting'- and started 'Dealing' with things.
That was why he felt poorly of his first years in the wastes- up until he met Han', gathered the skills he would forge throughout his life here- Sanford stepped aside from bad people, from monstrous beasts. Eventually he got fed up, and put himself between the evil and its victims.
It kind of made sense- after all, he wouldn't have ended up with the Deathclaw if he HADN'T been as good of heart as he was. He might not have even had Hancock with him- and that was a scary thought.
"HEY! You're thinking about something!"
"-Huh? -OH, yeah, yeah I guess..."
"Well knock it off and FIX ME, DAMN IT!"
"Keep your hull plates on..."
"I CAN'T! You took them off remember?!"
"...Ugh..."
"FRIKKIN' COMMIE'!"
-Back in the world of physical reality, Hancock's berating woke him from his daydreaming.
The robot actually looked pretty hilarious without the rounded plates that made the lower flanks of his ball-like chassis- the rivets removed, the metal taken away- it revealed an internal mesh of reinforced panels inside that protected the circuits and wires coursing throughout his form.
Hancock was basically- 'Seated' -on one of the worktables in the garage, central-thruster shut off, arms draped over the sides and front corner of the top- the robot observed with every comment possible under the sun leaving his vocal emitters- as Sanford dug around in the opened sections.
"-WOO! Sir, that tickles! STOP THAT! YOU PERVERTED SHRU!"
"I'm just checking your fuel link down here you stupid-"
"STOP MOLESTING ME!"
Hancock slapped the side of his claw off of Sanford's cranium.
CLUNG
-"-OW! God DAMN it, Han'!" Sanford reclined back with a hand wrapped in his hair- he brandished the head of the wrench he was holding at Hancock's ocu-lenses. "I'll dismantle you, you shithead!"
"SSSSHSHHHHHHSSHPPSPSPSPSP!"
"...What the... What the hell was that?"
"SSSSHHH!"
"...Did you program snake hisses into your voice feeds again? You damned freak?"
"How DARE you assume I'd do such a thing! Last I checked, Iguana-Momma' was sleepin'! AND, if I were to download animal noises in my vox box, they would be moose calls!"
"...W-Why moose calls...?"
"Better to harass you with, sir! HA-HA!"
"...Moose are a Canadian thing, Han'."
"Exactly! All their asses belong to US now! HA! Take that! Damned canucks, touchin' themselves all over maple leaves and other hogwash!"
"Hancock, shut up."
"MAKE ME, SLUT!"
"That's a new one."
"MONKEY!"
"Living coffee machine."
"Baboon!"
"Your mother was a snow-blower."
"GASP! You... MONSTER! Fuck you!"
"Really brotherly."
"FUCK YOU!"
"No, fuck you."
"FUCK YOU, MONKEY-MAN!"
"Uh, NO, fuck, YOU."
"FUCK- YYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU-!" CLNK "-AGH! Right in the central panel board..."
Sanford stepped back from the table, and looked down at the floor- there was a electric conductor box lying on the concrete, and a fresh dent in one of the internal paddings in Hancock's exposed hip-line chassis.
Snickering at the accuracy, Sanford bent down and picked up the piece of hardware as the Deathclaw reclined from the doorway she'd chucked it from.
"I'm trying to sleep, usiner," She called back. "Scream like that again and I'll rip out a wire and strangle you with it."
"HA! Joke's on you Gecko-Lips! I, don't, HAVE A NECK! Ha! Ah-ha! HA! Suck my sprocket pump!"
bmm
-The door to Sanford's bedding room slammed distantly.
"It's a wonder she fits in there." Sanford sighed, stepping away from Hancock's little operating table, and yanking out a drawer on one of the wheeled tool cabinets. "She almost broke this."
Sanford put the conductor box back in the drawer the Deathclaw had snatched it from, and slacked it closed with a tiny creak of rattling metallic parts- stepping back to Hancock, the robot followed him with his ocu-lenses craning to and fro atop his chassis.
"Sir," Hancock started. "I personally vote for vacating the premises, and BURNING THE BUILDING!"
"Just to get at her, huh?" Sanford sighed, he bent down to the side of the table and rummaged through an ajar trunk by its leftwards feet- he pulled out a military-grade ratchet, almost as big as his forearm- and started to aim the head into Hancock's opened lower right.
"DEATH TO PUFF THE MAGIC ASSBAG!"
"If you don't stop screaming, I'll find your coolent nozzle and burn it off with a welding torch." Sanford informed sing-song like, smiling.
"Bah! You and your threats..."
"Like I said in the field- it's amazing that 20' didn't completely gut your engine. Oh, and I dug out almost thirty pieces of shrapnel, and sixteen bullets," Sanford held up a dented Pork'n'Beans can- emptied, now rattling with internal movement from the batch of foreign objects Sanford had dumped in it from digging out Hancock's systems. "-Any other robot, Han', would've been scrap."
"Well that's why ya' got ME, sir! You stupid simians can't keep ME down! Ha-ha!"
"Jeez'." Sanford put the can next to Hancock's arm on the table- it gave off a charismatic clingclicngcnclc... -of all the pieces of metal bouncing around inside it.
The garage was quiet for a good moment after that- Sanford chuckling, and Hancock taking silent amusement in the gesture- both tried to remain aloof to what they wanted to say in different ways, about the same subject.
The subject in Sanford's room, beside HIS bed.
"...Sir I don't like it." Hancock blurted out. "I think we should tell her to hit the road."
"No."
"No?! You can't just, outright DENY me without an explanation! It's so, not... YOU, sir!"
"I won't do it."
"I knew it! See that? KNEW IT! You get all emotionally-invested in some talking alligator, and NOW, you're addicted to a lizard's snatch! Great! FRIKKIN' GREAT!"
"You don't even know what you're talking about."
"Oh don't play that crap with me!"
"What crap? That there ISN'T something happening? There isn't! What else do you want me to say?"
"We should get rid of her! All she'll do, is cause problems with the normal monkeys we frequent every day, AND, she'll attract Texan-Douchebag and his fine assortment of space-cowboy wannabe' cocksuckers from the 5th Dimension of Ass-hattery'!"
"...I'm sorry, what? Repeat that last part-?"
"SHE'S BAD NEWS, SIR! She'll get a fleet of Vertibirds here, and they'll carpet bomb us until all that's left are ashes and cauterized strips of burnt gym socks!"
"Hancock, if anything, the Enclave were gonna' have a problem with us in the long run anyway! When has anything that bad persisted around us that we then haven't pissed off and gotten into a gunfight with?"
"Well about those-! ...Uhm, no, we blew off their heads... AH-HA! What about the time with-?! -Ah, DAMN IT, we blew their faces open..."
"Yeah. Never."
"DOESN'T MATTER!"
"Yeah it does. She saved my can, I've saved hers, and last I recall, all three of us pulled out of a series of situations that you and I would've had EXTREME difficulty doing by ourselves."
"WITHOUT the little titan suit you're running around with, sir!" Hancock jabbed a claw over Sanford's shoulder to the stilled X-01 still on the power rack in the rear of the garage. "We got that by ourselves! Without her!"
"I'm not just gonna' leave her out there."
"...Stupid monkeys and your morals..."
"Oh yeah, well what about me? Huh? We both, were liabilities to each other when we first stuck together, did we abandon each other? Did you abandon me? No? Same argument."
"Theoretically, the tavern door should've been closed! For GOOD! We don't need a bigger party!"
"Don't need it? Or don't WANT it?"
"..."
"Hancock, look, we've made some poor choices with people we've allowed to follow us, I know-"
"Especially since I had to nuke the last needle-sucker!"
"-Yes- BUT, I get it. I don't believe this was a bad call."
"She's a Deathclaw, sir."
"We've defended settlers who were 'Zombies', Han'." Sanford raised a brow. "I didn't see you having a problem with Ghouls."
"They're skin just melted off! She's not the same! A monster! Not human! Not robot!"
"She's a person, she's intelligent- how would you like it if we found another robot, and I penalized them for not being human?"
"...Oh for Roosevelt's sake..."
"You're always so concerned with bigotry against 'bots? Don't be a bigot yourself."
"But that's not why I'm at arms against it! I don't give a flying fuck if she's Godzilla's sister-in-law! I'd even tolerate BARNEY, the purple dino-shit! I'm against it because the most fearsome military organization in post-war America is trying to stuff her in a box and kill anyone who prevents them from doing it!
They have airplanes, sir! AIR-FUCKING-PLANES! We don't have that! C'mon, sir, I don't see this as a fight we can WIN!"
...When the hell did Hancock ever admit there was a fight they could never win?
That was... Unlike him. He obviously was that concerned about it.
Sanford tapped the ratchet he was still holding in his palm- having clenched it tightly through Hancock's little speech -he sighed, bent down, and finished tightening an internal rivet in Hancock's internals.
Squeaks of steel, creaks of metal and the pattering of a pipe-line being straightened out- Hancock didn't comment further as Sanford reattached his lower hip-line plating, and bolted it in place, one rivet at a time.
With a last smack of a hammer- Sanford stood back, tossed the tools one by one into the trunk by his side, and kicked it to scratch across the floor, against the wall. The lid slapped shut, the rattling stopped- he watched Hancock without comment, snorting.
"Han', it's my gut. I'm following it. Trust me."
"...You could just have a violent case of the shits."
"No. Now trust me."
"... Sanford, I've followed you to hell and back, and I kicked the Devil's scrotum with each pass... Fine. We'll do it."
"Good." BNK -fist and claw met briefly, Sanford grinned. "You gonna' try shutting down tonight? Your hardware needs a rest."
"Yeah-yeah-yeah! Sure thing, MOTHER."
"Tomorrow we should check by the west outskirts."
"To the city?"
"Yeah."
"For LIBERTY!"
"Great, now shut up, I need to go to sleep."
"Sleep is overrated!"
"Good night, Han'."
"Bah! ...Night."
The robot made an electronic whine- air hissed in a tiny discharge, and the ocu-lenses propped up all draped across the flanks and front of the chassis loosely. Hancock made a rattling noise, some metal shifted, and he looked utterly still on the table.
Sanford walked out into the lobby area- he flicked the switch by the doorframe, and the lights of the garage flickered out, shrouding his robot in shadow. He stepped up to the front entrance of the building, looked outside at the gate for a moment, and shut the door with a metallic thwack.
He clicked the lock- stepped over to the dining windows and peered outside at the quiet yard- only disturbed by the hum of the power generator, and the slight drone of the automated turrets above, rotating.
He still had a boatload of work to do- he wanted to fix his armor, look at the sword he had picked up- but now he was too tired, that could all wait.
Stepping into his room- he saw the great creature that he now had living with him- the Deathclaw- sprawled on a second mattress laid next to his on the floor. She was asleep, snoring quietly.
Sanford observed her prone form down there for a good minute- he actually was wishing she was still awake- he had wanted to ask her about... Anything, really. Just to talk to her for a moment after that little show with Hancock.
But she was out for the night- so that wasn't happening.
Sanford climbed into his bedding and he watched the cracked ceiling above for a good while- thinking, thinking about her, Hancock, the Enclave, the quarry, the sword he had retrieved, his old house...
...His brain eventually just shut down and he passed out too.
-0-0-0-0-0-
At first it was awkward, going back into his daily routine with Hancock, alongside a third member- but, after awhile, maybe a day or two, it became a kind of pattern, he got used to it.
Every morning he'd get up, she'd be there, his robot would be there- they'd all bicker, they'd all chat, Hancock would feed his crows bread crumbs and then they would all fly away whenever the Deathclaw tried to get closer to observe.
Sanford would work on his armor- trying to use the smelter to get armored plates in a similar shape of curvature to the suit's already made cuirass- she'd be there, watching him, talking to him. He and Hancock would pile wood in a pit of cinderblocks, burn it, hang a pot over it, and Sanford would cook for himself and the Deathclaw.
"Baked... What?" She stammered upon a suggestion of his. "What did you call it?"
"Baked Mirelurk, the best."
"...Is that edible?"
"It's basically just crab, trust me, it's alright."
"...Sur'."
"Go for it?"
"Go for it, mon ami'."
"Alright, Mirelurk coming up."
-"HOLY CRAP! THAT FIRE IS AT A CRITICALLY UN-PATRIOTIC LOW! I'll fix 'er up!"
Sanford was startled initially by Hancock's loud outburst from beside him- he almost dropped the tin he was holding, filled with the whitish meat in prior question- and watched with a gawking expression as the robot leaned towards the little fire underneath the pot, aimed one of his robotic arms- and jettisoned a plume of flame from his thrower into the wood.
FHWMMMMM
FHWM
FHWM
-Two more puffs of blaring, eye-searingly bright fire for good measure.
Sanford dropped his jaw, and blinked- seeing the fire now roaring as the wood was hit with combustable petrol adhesive- the wood crackled and splintered, looking more charcoal than fresh debris from trees.
He glared at the robot who leant back and levitated there like nothing had transpired- noting Sanford's accusing look, Hancock jerked backwards- appalled.
"What?" He asked innocently.
Sanford exhaled loudly and started using a wooden spoon to shovel the meat into the chain-dangling pot once the flames died down a bit more.
It was a perfectly clear day with a blue sky, no clouds in sight, and the wind was even stilled to complete silence- like nature was basking in its own rays of tranquility- an interesting comparison to consider. Sanford and the Deathclaw sat across from each other, seated on two halves of a horizontally cut log.
Behind the main shack building, the rain cover from where the pumps used to be didn't entirely cover the sky- so the Deathclaw was observing the blue, head raised, idly chewing the tolerable meat that she shoveled from the tin using one of her nails.
Sanford watched her stick large chunks of the Mirelurk meat with her sharp appendage- like one would impale vegetables on a shiskebab- and she popped the tip into her mouth, bit down for a moment and swallowed. She was like a machine.
"You eat really fast." Sanford noted, taking another bite from his fork.
She looked down, locked eyes with him and swallowed, before peering into the tin, and giving him the cheapest response he had seen thus far from her- for she merely shrugged and stuck her nail back in the opened top.
He swung the fork around in a circular sweep about the ribbed walls of his tin, dragged the fork prongs clean with a quick pass in his mouth, and set the two objects down on the ground by his boot. He hunched forwards, smiling as she finished.
"So? I suck at cooking, right?"
"Contrary. Not horribly bland, better than I could do, monsieur'." She mused, running her prehensile tongue along her finger, she set the tin down by her side and shifted on the halved log- scales making a hissing noise against the wood.
Sunlight beamed down in a faint, ghostly reflection of aura about the two of them- it highlighted the brick work of the building next to them a brighter scab red, and was abruptly cut off by the top rims of the walls surrounding the property to their flank.
Her tail was swaying behind her- and she idly cuffed a knuckle down one of her curling horns.
"Do you do it on purpose?"
"Isn't it- 'Do you do it purposefully' -mon ami'?" She laughed. "And what exactly are you talking about?"
Hancock, who had started to become distracted, and had floated away towards the flank of the building- looked at her from his distance, and belted out a quick-
"GRAMMER NAZI!"
-Before vanishing around the bend with a rush of his engine thruster.
Answering the behavior with a dismissive sigh- she turned back and repeated the question.
"Do I do WHAT purposefully, monsieur?"
"Holy hell," Sanford chuckled to it all. "-Uhm- Ah, I was asking if you eat like that knowingly."
"...How do... I... Eat?" She asked quietly.
"It just looks like it's a chore to you," He stated. "At least, your expression says so."
"...Habit?"
"Why?"
"Normally the things I am forced to consume are of rather... Unsavory origin and quality."
"What do you mean? Like, spoiled?"
"No. Raw."
"...You don't... LIKE, raw meat?"
"Non'."
"That's interesting...?"
The Deathclaw ground her teeth, gave a little shrug of her scaly shoulders again.
Sanford cocked his head- it obviously bothered her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She quirked a brow. "Ce n'est rien'."
"Does raw meat bother you?"
"..."
"Tell me why."
"...It makes me feel, I'm not sure- 'Animalistic'? Like I'm an animal? Pour' l'amour du Seigneur', mon ami', I've never thought about it in an explanatory way..."
"Let me guess, you'd kill something and eat it right there?"
"It's disgusting." She spat. "I take the opportunity to rid myself of said memories any instance I get."
"...But that's survival, you never killed for sport, have you?"
"...No."
"Have you ever eaten a human?"
"Dieu'! No!"
"Another Deathclaw?"
"You're pissing me off."
"Alright, then it was survival, and your body is capable of it, and it was a means of getting sustenance- there's nothing wrong with killing to acquire food in a tame manner."
"-'Tame'?"
"Maybe not the best word- killing wild animals for food isn't wrong, humans have been doing so before we even knew how to speak."
"...It was still disgusting..."
"The good news is, you have access to other food sources now," Sanford smiled and pointed at the tin by her foot. "No more raw meat unless you say so."
She made that puffing noise with her nostrils.
"Mm."
"I'll drop it. But you shouldn't feel bad."
"I'll consider it..."
"Otherwise, how are you feeling?"
"...Fine."
"You haven't come out with me and Han' on any of our scours... You wanna' try today?"
"...I'm just afraid someone will shoot at me, and by extension, you, monsieur'."
"I've talked down people pointing guns at me, I'll handle it, don't worry about it."
"...Mm."
"I just have some work to do in the garage, but- yeah, afterwards I'll suit up, Hancock will tag along, you can come with us."
"Maybe."
"Consider it that you're coming with ME, the robot's just a buzzing fly or something."
"I HEARD THAT! FUCKER!"
"...How you deal with it, monsieur'... It alludes me."
"Lots of patience, dedication."
"-AND DON'T FORGET THE MOUNTAINS OF DEAD COMMIES'!"
"...Mon ami',"
"Yep?"
"I've been thinking about what we were discussing awhile ago..."
"...Is this about-?"
"NO. Non', not that. The idea of..." She considered her wording. "-Terminology, for myself."
"What do you mean?"
"I've been thinking of a name for myself."
"Huh! That's great! What were you thinking of?"
"...There is a... Not exactly a PERSON, per say, that I've been reading about in the book we found."
"Which one?"
"Greek Mythology."
"Is it a Goddess?"
"...Yes, how did you know?"
"Is her name Nyx?"
"...Sanford," She laughed. "Have you been looking over my shoulder?"
"No, not at all," He said. "You always leave the book open on her chapter though."
"...Oh. 'Oops'?"
"You want to have that as a name? 'Nyx'? Or something similar?"
"...I haven't decided, but... but I'm thinking about it."
"No rush, girl."
"Mm."
"You done eating? Come on, lemme' suit up, you're coming with us."
"...Okay, Sanford."
"Don't worry about it."
"I'll try."
"I can't have my girl worrying, alright?"
"Alright, mon ami', I'll try."
"You'll try?"
"Sur'."
"You sure?"
"..."
"I'm pissing you off."
"Oui'."
"...That means, yes, right-?" BNK -an emptied tin rattled off his forehead. "-OW!"
-0-0-0-0-0-
"Ya' wanna' know what I always HATED about the Wastes, sir?"
"What's that, Han'?"
"It was never the scumbags, the Commies', OR the flea-bitten monstrosities..."
"Oh?"
"It, was, always... THE DUST! THE MOTHER FUCKING DUST!"
"Wow."
"Bah! None of this- WOW bullshit! IT'S EVIL! It rides up everywhere! It's like wearing spandex that's been treated with chloric acid! EVERYTHING'S FUCKING ON FIRE!"
"...Y-You've... Worn spandex-?"
"NEVER. TRY. TO UNRAVEL-"
-"-The mystery of the Han', usiner?"-
"...By Jove'... SHE'S GOT IT! HIGH-CLAW FOR YOU, PYTHON BREATH!"
CLK
-The Deathclaw even knew to bunch her knuckles for that little gesture.
Observing the unfolding events with wide eyes, Sanford was pretty horrified when Hancock reclined from the Deathclaw, and the two looked over at him in tandem. It was like a nightmare. A really bad nightmare.
"I have nothing on this."
"Damn straight! See that?! Even the LIZARDS love me! Ha-HA!" Hancock's thruster whipped as he spun in an aerial circle- his metal hide clattering. "And to THINK, just a few nights ago I was petitioning your permanent exile!"
"...Excuse me?" The Deathclaw had her back against the doorframe out of the garage- her expression narrowed.
Now caught in a sort of spotlight- Hancock stopped his jubilant animations, his ocu-lenses creaked with darting movements between her and his best friend. Sanford, while a bit concerned in a mitigated sense for his buddy's structural integrity- took said concern with a dash of salt.
Just like the Deathclaw had taken the opportunity to prod fun at him in his old house- Sanford dismissed his involvement with a rolling of his shoulders and a tiny whistle.
"Ah, nuetrality," He stated lowly- shifting some of the junk he had lying about on a workdesk pulled before him. "The glory of NUETRALITY."
"You're all under the effects of narcotics! HIPPIES!" Hancock snapped. "I should've known this was all just a drug-fueled crapshoot!"
"Yep, drug-fueled, mm-hm." Sanford muttered, returning to what he had been working on before the interruption.
"Has a day passed where you HAVEN'T screamed or raised your voice, usiner?" The Deathclaw asked.
"Ha! NOPE." Sanford answered. "Han' doesn't even know what 'Monotone' means."
"I most certainly DO!" Hancock yelled. "BUT BEING MONOTONE IS FOR LENINISTS!"
"I know, Karl Marx was such a QUIET guy." Sanford rolled his eyes. "So was Stalin, and Trotsky too."
"I DETECT YOUR SARCASM YOU VINE-SWINGING PRIMATE!"
"Obsolete."
"You... CUR!"
"...God almighty..."
"DON'T MUMBLE AT ME!"
"...freaking...stupid robot..."
"WHATDIDYOUJUSTSAYTOMEYOUHIPPIEFUCK?!"
-"-This is quite possibly the most entertaining thing by far this week."- The Deathclaw chimed in from behind the agitated robot.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW, GECKO-FOOT?!"
"...I know, that I," Sanford reclined from the table- and in his grasp, was something Hancock hadn't seen in days, and something the Deathclaw hadn't seen at all. "-Just fixed up a brand new weapon! Ha!"
"Bah! You wouldn't know a fixed weapon if it shot ya' in the ass and called you mother!"
"We'll see about that." Sanford had in his hands a metallic wonder with industrial synthetic making most of the larger, boxy sections of the frame.
The butt of the gun was supported by a skeletal rear section, two bars and adjustor cranks to fold and unfold the stock- three projector charges, rectangular, drab-colored battery-like objects, were arranged in a circular 'Wheel' pattern around the silvery rear of the long barrel.
Some of the original wires inside the synthetic plates had been replaced by copper wires, and a fresh Power Pack was slid into the feed chamber- yet something looked... Different, about the battery, Hancock couldn't place it...
"It's a Laser rifle, you freak!" Sanford laughed- holding it out further for them both to examine. "I've been working on this baby for days! Remember? We found it? AWHILE ago?"
The Deathclaw just shrugged- because, after all, she hadn't even been in the party when they had both found it- and Hancock looked like a burnt out light bulb to the whole thing.
"...Well, yes, we found it, Han', you and me. Check this out, foldable stock, and the scope up here? It slides to the side, see? Tactical magnification, rapid-fire spin-cycle triple battery function- OH, and check this out- I rerouted some of the coils in the Power Pack here, so excess energy gets dumped in a negative bounce-back into the lower chamber of the charge!"
"So... A rechargable battery? Sir?"
"Exactly! Cool, right?"
"...UP! Coin just dropped!" Hancock snapped- his storage unit flapped open with a charismatic squeak, his claw slipped inside the hatch, and then flung back out.
clk clk clk...
clkclk
-A penny, rusted with age, flew out and bounced away on the floor.
Sanford turned his head down to watch the coin finish its rolling traverse- and then he gawked at Hancock, who looked quite pleased with himself.
"See? Get it? The- COIN -dropped? The old saying? And I literally... dropped... the coin and... and..." Hancock looked between the two of them, both of whom were expressionless. "...Ah, go kill yourselves..."
"You worry me. -I'm testing this bad boy out," Sanford walked around the table and gestured for the doorframe. "Wanna' try it out with me, Deathclaw?"
"Sur'."
"Alright let's go."
"WHAT ABOUT ME, HUH?! I see, MY services, are no longer APPRECIATED! That's it, huh?! HUH?!"
"Hancock,"
"Yes sir?"
"SHUT. UP."
-0-0-0-0-0-