[color=aba000][b]Vault 48: The Jack's Rebellion[/b][/color]

[quote]"They engage the generator!" rung across the corridor.

Faye recognized that voice: Walter, Ten of Spades and a reliable confidante. She'd scheduled an assembly with her faction amongst the bunks; that information must have leaked. As she scanned the sleeping quarters, her fellow Vaulters' faces reflected her concerns. The placid council retrieved armaments with a cool vigor. She handpicked the five readiest: "Doris, Uriah, Carol, Kyle, and Eric. Follow me. The rest of you, assemble a replacement wave."

"Damn, my shotgun's jammed," Eric lamented.

"So you four will accompany me," Faye addressed the remnant. She obtained her own pistol and headed out. The radicals' single power station lay tragically a few paces from the front lines. Their only margin was a minuscule strength center which Walt guarded. She hoped he bore the tenacity to withstand a proper assault until the cavalry relieved him.

Faye stopped at the generator's entry and ushered her vanguard in. The thunderous shock of emptied cartridges reverberated throughout the halls. Tardy stragglers occupied the preceding hydroponics garden, anxious for their chance at glory. A pixie cut brunette marched through the doorway; Faye nabbed her collar and dragged her back. "You are dismissed, Nancy."

Nancy held up her laser rifle. "Granted, I wasn't the most competent operator, but I managed the circuitry here. I want to defend my workplace!"
"It's not that," Faye explained. "You turned nineteen a month ago. I won't expend you."
"So what? You're 24!" Nancy retorted. "I order you, from a King to a Jack!"

The distant thump on the ground signaled Walter's final act of valor. In olden times, Faye couldn't refuse Nancy's command, but rank mattered little nowadays. Far too strong to resist, Faye pried her underling from her energy weapon. "My decision is resolute. Paul, confine her."

"Yes, Ma'am," the Nine of Diamonds affirmed. He wrangled Nancy's arm behind her and pressed her against the garden's confines as his commanding officer vanished into the next enclosure. "Remain still, Nan. Don't muck it up again for the professionals." Nancy resisted for a moment but limply resigned. Confused about Nancy's sudden submission, Paul remained wary of breakout. Amidst the sounds and shakes of conflict, his keen senses detected not resistance but a slight tink, tinking.

He loosened his grip and, looking down the hall, relinquished completely. His face grew pale, and words escaped him. He unholstered his revolver and directed it with trembling hands. Finally, he summoned his nerve to yaup: "Radscorpion!"

Faye heard battle cries before her and shouts of terror behind her. An Ace assaulter tromped in and identified a nook within which he hid from bullet fire. Eager to calm the storm, Faye boldly stomped forward, grabbed her adversary out of his cover by his shirt, and tossed him into the dumbbells outside. Her allies' supporting projectiles kept her immune. Overwhelming force pushed the Aces' minions safely past the weight room. "Hold!" she commanded her supporters as she investigated the rear.

Calmness she would have. Upon return, the entire hydroponics section was dead or dying, including the beast. Clutching a baseball sized hole in her gut, Nan staggered towards her leader. Her former captor had died protecting her, judging from his lifeless corpse encompassed by chitin claws.

Faye reached out her arms, and Nancy fell into them. As the King of Spades was lowered, Faye analyzed her for hope of potential salvation. She found none. Her sibling Eve's faint soprano arose from beyond the weight center. "What's the issue? Do you request truce?"
"Scorpion!" Faye announced.
A moment's silence. "You have three minutes' respite to attend to the wounded. Afterwards, we shall advance to occupy the reactor."

Faye grit her teeth. This disaster handed the opposition an insurmountable military and numbers advantage. A secure monopoly of power could halt any food production and water purification systems in the facility. Her cause in this civil war was doomed to suffocate to extinction.

"Flee this place," Nancy weakly interrupted Faye's musings. "Henry's legacy is lost without you."
Faye smiled gently. "And go where, Nancy? The Aces control the elevators, and the outdoors is wilderness and Green."
Nancy pointed above her. "Use the-" she coughed, "the vents. You're thin enough to traverse them, and they lead to open air."
Faye's gaze followed Nancy's direction. Wishful thinking, but not altogether implausible. She shook her head. "I should care for you first."
A wheeze prevented Nancy from hearing Faye's protest. "See? Handy advice. If just for that, my life was worthwhile, right?" She briefly flashed a grin. Her countenance slackened, and her muscles went limp.

Uriah appeared beside her, his heavy flamethrower luminous with heat. "She speaks truth, you know. Try the Vegas Meld. Floyd was equally Hinshaw's apprentice. If not support, you'll at least find compassion and haven."
Faye's fallen tears soaked Nancy's dress. "That her sacrifice not be vanity. What leeway can you provide?"
Uriah shrugged. "Eve adores negotiation. Possibly an hour. That failing, I have a flamer. Half that."
Faye nodded. "Recall Doris and Kyle. Some parts of me can't fit in the vent otherwise."
Uriah chuckled. "Yeah, that'll be quite the squeeze. I'd love to learn how the hijinks played out, but I probably won't survive to bid you safe journeys. With that, instead, adieu." He disappeared. "Eve! Fancy a parley?"[/quote]

[color=aba000][b]Danny "Nines" Floyd - Gomorrah Mezzanine - Noontime, November 18th[/b][/color]

[Charisma: 7]
[Speech: 60]
Success!

Marjorie had departed when Danny responded, "Indeed, a pleasure to... Have me for dinner, yes..."

Danny refrained from dropping his jaw, but his wide eyes betrayed unfocused panic. Physically, the don exposed himself. On a whim, the loose acquaintance might hurdle the table and strangle Omerta, beheading the criminal syndicate by the time security reacted. Impossible, of course; the notion dodged Danny's mind entirely. Psychologically, a handful of brisk quips from the "King of Sin" paralyzed the Nine of Clubs in equal portions trepidation and contemplation. What mastery. The grizzled rogue master's secret to prosperity was readily apparent.

Daniel blinked to refresh his mental faculties, which sounded logical alarms. "No, this is ridiculous. What, I waltz in and announce my dominance? We don't operate the radio speakers; my buddy Kyle's exclusively safeguarded that since..." Daniel paused. Kyle was an old comrade, partial to neither Cannon. He was likely coerced out of necessity, not fanaticism. He'd implement anything Nines proposed.

"But I'd require leverage," Floyd countered himself. "I manufactured stimpaks. They wouldn't permit me near something as vital as..." Thomas was Amber's brother, Daniel's soon to be in-law. He alone comprehended the pipe network's dizzying schematics. If he sabotaged the system, discovery would last days; repair, years. He was overly protective of his sister, and would obey her every plea. Amber was similarly loyal to Danny, so by proxy Nines controlled the hydraulics.

"Desperate folk come out shooting, and we've garnered a mighty arsenal over the centuries," he considered. "A well positioned frontal ambush ought to mitigate that. I'd need twenty armed men at minimum, and the Meld can field six." He instinctively relaxed, perusing the ceiling in his calculations. "On second thought, it wouldn't take excessive effort to switch the locks on the armory closet, certainly not with an insider."

The Gomorrah was unusually serene. "Shit," Danny remarked. He never cussed. He glanced at Dominic, recalling the scenario in which he'd placed himself. Turns out he did possess a favor to ask of the crime lord. "Sir, I'm not excessively fond of indebtedness. I'd like to earn what favors you bestow. I'll allocate space in my schedule to ensure it. My price is a week's usage of a couple dozen experienced soldiers, and two hundred gallons of freshwater. You'd score a valuable ally in exchange, and your pick of the finer elements of our coffers, even after the square trade of labor." Vault 48 famously had no allocated storage area, but his compatriots had garments and weapons to spare.

He cocked his noggin as his superego resumed ownership. "Wait, why do I crave authority now? I didn't desire this prior. I've no grand machinations!" He focused his attention to a nit on a nearby wall. "But it's possible..."