Well shit. I've been juggling on how my writing style goes, it just goes... Bleh... Not to mention all the errors I make (Probably due to me typing this shit up at 9:00pm to around 12:00 am) But I have no real good way to insert thoughts without making it seem kinda just-thrown-in-there or forced. Either one to be honest. Also I forgot to add this. Ahem... (Mainly adding this because it's common courtesy and I would feel like a thieving cunt for not doing so)

Fallout is owned by Bethesda. (Hur Dur. Who would've guessed)

RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth.

Hope you enjoy my slopped together mess. Sorry for the drastically decreased length as well!

Each individual Faunus peered into the street with bright eyes glaring at the Drifter, who of course played it off as nothing. He just waltzed his way down the street annoyed with his first impression of this new world and the fact that he probably has an entire police force or army looking for him. Sure he could ditch the Riot Gear but that was him and he considered it a second skin. Still, the night sky offered some relief as he strolled down the street looking at various closed shops like a tourist. That was until he came upon what could be the beach, and was it a mighty beach indeed! The sand looked soft and powdery and the ocean was picture perfect. Something you would see on a postcard and there was perfectly placed palm tree nearby. A perfect spot to crash for the night, that was if he was tired though since he technically just woke up. Didn't matter, morning was hopefully coming soon based on the moon.

Walking his way over to the shade under the palm tree, he bunched up a pile of sand like a pillow, and played holotape games all night including his favorite, Grognak! Minutes passed on by, he was outright destroying this annoying as fuck goblin that caused him trouble. Every time he was about to finish the fucker off it always runs away with the most horrid noise that has ever came out of his Pip-Boy's speakers.

"Mother fucker! I'm gonna finally kill you!" 'No you aren't' his nagging, doubtful mind told him. After a few more hits the goblin pulled the same trick, laughing with the most god awful screech and then being forced back to the world map.

"You bitch!" The Drifter smashed his spare hand into the monochrome screen giving a massive 'crack' sound. He paused, the screen was completely fine but his hand looked like he punched a tank. Broken, and crushed bones were expected.

"Fuck. What is this thing made of?" The Drifter peered at the broken hand again, Maybe I should stop for tonight. Laying his arms across on the sand he stared into the night sky until the morning light filled the sky.

It was morning, the Sun shone brightly as the sand was beginning to show their deep yellow. It didn't help that the Drifter was far too lazy to even pick himself up.

"It's morning already?" lazily tossing his head left caught glimpses of what looked like those weird animal people going to the beach, needless to say, some were hot, others looked like… Well, they looked as if someone took all the pillows in the world and stuffed them into people. Not the most beautiful sight to wake up to see. Actually, scratch that he would love to be awaken to the regular druggie raider trying to rob him at night.

Taking another another gaze around, some random kids were staring at him like he was some sort of attraction. It didn't matter, he wasn't going to spend the entire day there. He had an entire world to explore!

No one was going to stand in his way! No one!

"Hey! I told you he would move!" One random animal-boy with dog ears pointed at him wide eyed

"Yeah! But that's not the bet, it's if he's a robot or not." Another girl looked at the Drifter and then traded glances with the taller boy

"Fuckin' kids…" The Drifter hoisted himself out of the grainy sand and waved them off, "I got more important shit to look after." The Drifter mumbled with a tired stupor

Finally seeing the daytime of this city was a harsh contrast with it's nightlife. People were everywhere! He couldn't believe all these people settled in one area, people walking back and forth between the market stalls. It was like some paradise! Sadly people still looked at him like he was some sideshow attraction. At least it was a way to get attention but that was not his real goal. To him, these people were specimens, still he was going to abide by ethics, no cutting people's hearts out and then carelessly parading it around, that was the golden rule.

Perusing along the street was nice, no one trying to kill you but those animal people were still around talking about whatever about their lives. That's when brilliance struck him like a mini-nuke!

It was so simple! Just go to a bar! Everyone talks about shit and bartenders were godly at telling information!

There was the issue of money, it never hurt to have some money so the only choice he had for a quick buck was going to be a filthy pickpocket… Oh well.

The Drifter spotted a very easy target. A wimpy looking dude dressed pretty proper, he should have a buck on him or two.

Shrugging, he casually strolled his way to his target and simply just plucked his wallet out. Simple as that!

Plucking the money out of the wallet revealed that it was very stiff money. It's basically just cards. But lucky for him, the guy had a lot of money, hopefully. He doesn't know the inflation rates on this money so he could possibly had next to nothing, it's 12 notes (cards) that say, "25 lien" So hopefully it isn't too small of an amount.

Wondering around was getting really dull. There were sights to see of course. But he really needed to know more about the internal workings of the world, not landmarks.

Finally stumbling upon what was presumably a bar or at least what could be a bar, the sign had two bears high-fiving with their spare hand carrying a mug overflowing with presumed beer.

"This better be a bar." The Drifter muttered before pushing the doors open.

As luck had it. It was a bar with what looked like a congregation of people in masks, they were all brown haired or blonde, the stray black-haired animal person, but no one of interest, until his eyes spied on two people.

A girl wearing gradient stockings with a weird black buttoned vest, luscious black wavy hair and a poofy black bow covered the top of her hair. What really set her apart from the rest was her amber eyes, she had a sly posterior. Overall she was hot. Sadly, a guy with bull horns, an ornate mask, and some red slick back hair or some shit, he didn't care about that fucker though. Even if the hottie was talking with him.

The bartender had to double take at the Drifter, he was an imposing sight for sure. The glowing red eyes of his helmet didn't help with the mood, even some of the masked members looked disturbed by his presence, but their little party didn't stop either way.

Taking a seat at a stool far away from the commotion, he waved to the bartender who nodded and made his way over.

"I've seen many faces walk into here, sometimes they may wear a mask, but I see you and frankly, you take the cake. What can I get you?" The strange bartender with bear ears and an extremely deep friendly voice asked.

Reclining back on the stool the Drifter gazed at the massive selection of alcohol available, it was an overwhelming amount but most of the bottles had a glaze of dust gripping to them. Most likely they were all decoration.

"You got something that'd break my liver?" Glancing back down at his Pip-Boy and a few twists of knobs, the twenty-five lien card materializes on the table, "Keep the change by the way."

The bartender gives a small nod before pulling out three bottles, one of hot sauce (hopefully), a bottle of vodka, and finally some strange brown bottle with the label peeled off.

"Soo… Is that the secret sauce?" The Drifter asks reluctantly as he points at the brown bottle

"Uh-huh, now just you wait. This'll kill your liver good…" A toothy grin spreads across the man's face, "Yup.. Kill ya real good…" He mumbles like a mad scientist

Running his hand over his helmet like hair the Drifter looks to his right to see the masked red head just staring at him, "You want something bro?"

"Yeah…" The Redhead spat while slowly getting up from his seat, "I think you have some explaining to do."

Uhh shit, shit, shit, shit, The Drifter was not happy that his first impression has gone to shit.

"So you're trying to find him too?" The Drifter sighed and went back staring at the concoction that was supposed to be his drink 'The fuck is this drink' The "drink" was thick like salsa, or ketchup and had the smell of ammonia.

"Adam, calm down! We don't even know if it's hi-" The black haired girl was cut off by her accomplice

"Shut it Blake, this guy fits the definition of the person he shot the guard last night. Don't you realize it? Trench Coat? Gas mask? He needs to be punished!" Adam unsheathes his blade

In false bravado and with a pointing finger, the Drifter drawled, "First; It's called a 'Duster'. Not only that, he was wearing a Stahlhelm and he was wearing a Wehrmacht gas mask." Gesturing himself the Drifter continued, "I for one, am wearing an American riot helmet and gas mask."

Adam wasn't amused, "Stop bullshitting, I don't know what an 'American' or what a 'Wehrmacht' Just accept death like a good boy."

Giving an exaggerated sigh, the Drifter lazily glanced over at his drink and looked back at his opponent. Lying won't work today he presumes. 'Fuck my life'

This was going to be a long day...

AN:

Ah! Thank you for the reviews! Honestly. I'm surprised anyone liked this story considering that it's filled with errors, and awkward dialog. Nonetheless I am still stuck with being between different writing styles that sometimes change. Also, any Guest replies will be replied here.

Guest: I know dude! I've watched every single episode of the Storyteller thus far! I even have the Old World Tunes app! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you have any critiques, please let me know broham.