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Brooks - The Bait Shop

Approaching the middle-age clerk James asked “Brooks right? Do you know who owns that gun store? I’d like to buy an Rifle and some ammo.”

"Well now that's rough," Brooks said with a slight chuckle, "Walk up to a man's store and ask him to help you shop at another...I've got some guns and ammunition here too you know."

He then sighed, "But...I don't have near what the Lee's have, I admit. So to answer your question, Sandra Lee, Allan's sister, runs his store ever since he died on The Hull. She's struggling to keep it going without her brother but she does the best she can with what she's got. Best get what you need to soon though. Night is coming quickly and everyone's getting ready to turn in and close up shop. Nobody likes to be out after dark these days...."

Old Longfellow - The Hull

A drunken Longfellow made his way back up to the top of The Hull and fell back down against the wooden battlements of the makeshift wall. In his stupor, he wasn't much of a watchman, but he still remembered he was supposed to be on duty. He looked over and thankfully saw at least a couple other guards on The Hull tonight, although one of them was 3/4ths in to a bottle of whiskey himself and seemed to be in no better state than Longfellow.

Drowsily, the old codger tried to keep awake, and keep staring out towards the fog and the encroaching night, but the stress of the day's worries had taken a toll on him, and he was fast falling asleep.

His eyes drooped, and he fell fast asleep.

Name: The Institute

Flag (picture or description):


Territory (picture or description) and Geography: The Institute itself. A hermetically sealed, underground facility complete with research labs, manufacturing capabilities, spacious living quarters, and a pleasing aesthetic environment for its denizens to enjoy which includes a simulated night and day environment. The Institute is located directly under the old ruins of The Commonwealth Institute of Technology in Boston.



History (if using a pre-existing faction, recent history will due): Founded officially in 2110 and descendant from the faculty and students of CIT who managed to take shelter in the basement of the college, The Institute has been slowly growing and building underground since the Great War. Striving towards the goal of advancing science and technology far beyond that of the pre-war world.

In recent years, The Institute was directly threatened by The Brotherhood of Steel and The Railroad both in a war over The Commonwealth which resulted in each of their defeats. Having successfully completed the Phase 3 project and thus secured their future underground, The Institute was content to remain isolated in their pristine environment and well secured from the horrors of the surface world until the surface dwellers had all died out.

However, reports from SRB suggest that something odd is happening above ground. An invitation has been extended for various wasteland peoples to converge on a single location in what was once pre-war Las Vegas, Nevada. Both intrigued and concerned about the possibility of what this means for the wasteland and distinctly reminded of The Commonwealth Provisional Government from their own history, The Institute has decided to investigate, observe, and analyze these proceedings and determine what, if any, threats to their safety and security must be addressed.

To this end, they have sent a group of disguised synths, programmed with a set of unique personalities and memories, to act as delegates to the convention, representing a faux faction from New York: “The New York Syndicate”. Due to the sudden appearance of an unusually violent radstorm from the glowing sea hitting The Commonwealth, they were delayed from takeoff and unfortunately arrived late to the proceedings.


Population: 400 scientists and children and approximately 150 non-combat Gen-3 Synths serving as laborers and personal assistants.

Government/Domestic Politics: The Institute is divided into five different research divisions and each of its scientists fall into one of these divisions. They are:

Robotics - Synth research and production
Facilities - Engineering, maintenance, public health and safety, and internal security systems
Advanced Systems - Energy research, weapons development, and ‘cutting edge’ projects.
Bioscience - Biological, chemical, medical research, and food production.
Synth Retention Bureau (SRB) - Surface monitoring, external security, and synth retrieval.

The Institute is led by The Directorate, a committee comprised of the division heads of each of the five divisions, one of whom is also the Director of The Institute. The Director has wide-ranging powers and directs overall Institute policy, while the rest of The Directorate mostly acts as an advisory board.

Notable People:


Director Thomas Milburn - Current Director of The Institute following the passing of ‘Father’. He was once a Professor at CIT during the pre-war years, and developed the initial prototype for the Gen-1 Synth that the Institute later re-discovered and fully developed. During his early years as a student at CIT before attaining his doctorate, he was a colleague, close friend, and rival of Robert Edwin House. During the Great War of 2077, he was cryogenically frozen in Vault 111, and awoke 2010 years later to find his world had completely changed….for the worse. After finally reaching The Institute and his son, he readily accepted his child’s vision for the future, and was more than happy to become apart of this post-war version of his alma mater. In addition to being overall Director of The Institute, he also serves as the division head of robotics.

Cait Milburn - Once a hard fighting, hard drinking Boston irish girl with a terrible past and the demon of drug addiction hanging over her head, she met Thomas shortly after he’d emerged from Vault 111. After she met the pre-war relic, her life changed drastically as he helped her overcome her drug addiction and sober up, while she likewise helped him to become accustomed to the new terrible world he’d been thrust into. The old adage “opposites attract” soon proved true, and the two became lovers. While not particularly fond of the pencil-necks at The Institute and their prudishness, she has settled into a comfortable life there and is considered a ‘wasteland expert’. She requires regular treatments at The Institute’s medical bay in order to continue to heal the damage done to her body both physically and mentally throughout the hard years of her life.

Others:
X6-88 - A courser resolutely loyal to the Director.
Dr. Allie Fillmore - Facilities Director
Dr. Alana Secord - SRB Director following Justin Ayo’s demotion.
Dr. Clayton Holdren - Bioscience Director
Dr. Madison Li - Advanced System Director

Military: The Institute’s military is primarily a defensive security force, tasked with protecting The Institute itself and only reacting to external threats when deemed absolutely necessary. Their weaponry consists primarily of Institute energy rifles and pistols as well as the occasional shock baton. Institute weaponry is produced to spec to be cheap, easy to produce, and reliable while using minimum resources. There are no humans in The Institute’s ‘army’, but various Institute personnel have opted to have some sort of firearms training.

Institute Coursers make up the strongest portion of The Institute’s security, and are highly trained Gen-3 Synths specialized as hunters, investigators, and most of all: killers.

Numbers:
100 Gen-3 Courser Units

500 Gen-2 Security Units with an additional 500 “Scavenger” Gen-2 Units:


1000 Gen-1 Synths:

5 “Adorable-Class” Synth Gorilla Units

And several hundred Watcher Crows and Watcher Sparrows which act as spies.


Economy: The Institute is an almost entirely self-sufficient society, producing everything it needs in-house. Food packets (consisting of nutritional supplement pills) is the main source of food produced by Bioscience, and they come in a variety of different popular flavors. The residents of The Institute rarely consume anything other than this highly nutritious and efficient food source, and will never consume anything from the surface. The Institute produces its own purified water as well.



Clothing, tools, luxury goods, and various other items its people need or want can be fabricated within The Institute. Any unique items or pieces of technology The Institute needs, including raw resources, are scavenged from the surface or extracted from the earth.

Trade with the surface is nearly non-existent except in rare cases where they might require something from a group or individual.

Culture and Technology (include views towards slavery and mutants): The Institute has at its disposal some of the most, if not the most, advanced technology in the world. The pinnacle of their achievement, some would say, is the Synths, but they’ve also made great strides in numerous other fields.

The Molecular Relay is one of their most advanced pieces of technology. Allowing them to teleport to and from their underground home. The relay at its greatest extent can reach to Maine from Boston, but at this distance requires a tremendous amount of power to send or receive even a few people.

Culturally, the Institute is highly insular and isolationist, believing the surface to be a lost-cause and not worth expending much effort or thought over. They are highly motivated, intelligent, and sometimes obsessive scientists and researchers and nearly everyone in The Institute enjoys order, predictability, cleanliness, comfort, and uniformity. The scientists all wear an identical lab coat atop their jumpers with varying colors for the divisions.

The Institute would not agree with human slavery in principle, but does not intervene when it observes it on the surface either. Its use of Gen-3’s is not considered slavery, and in fact merely an advancement over the Gen-2 program. Mutants and ghouls aren’t directly targeted by The Institute, but would not be welcome there except to be used as a potential source of research.

Religion: Religion is an entirely private matter in The Institute and is never really discussed except possibly during a late night chat between colleges when someone breaks out the good synthesized bourbon. If directly asked most would respond to the tune of “Dammit, I’m a scientist, not a philosopher!”
The Borgio Family - Lucky 38, 27th Floor

The Borgio's waited patiently together in silence as they anticipated House's arrival. Suddenly they heard the pop of a microphone and the same dignified voice that they'd heard back in the Gourmand came flowing out.

“My name is Robert Edwin House – President, C.E.O., and Sole Proprietor of the FZM. I have hosted you in my home, today, because I received transmissions from a very interesting conversation that you had with one of my securitrons.” He paused. “I do hope you are enjoying your stay. I do not mean to alarm you.”

Robert then paused and took a deep breath. “I want to, however, skip pleasantries because I am deeply curious as to why you have come across the name of Thomas Milburn. That name has been wiped away with the Great War, yet it springs up here on my doorstep. Why?”

Salvatore was taken aback, and looked to his son in confusion. Antony, meanwhile was completely dumbfounded, while Lucia held back a smug smile.

"I...uh..I Mr. House, err...that is...I'm not sure I understand what you're asking? I don't remember ever..."

"Son..." Salvatore glared at Antony, "What is this all about?"

Antony's mind raced. He tried to think back to his initial conversation with the Securitron. But he was drawing a blank. He knew he'd rattled off a list of names, but he couldn't for the life of him remember ever saying 'Thomas Milburn'. And even if he did for some reason, why in the world would House seem to care so much about this?

"I...uh..." Antony stammered, his nervousness was getting the better of him. He was looking like a fool in front of his idol, and what's more, his father was becoming obviously cross with his blathering.

"Mr. House," Salvatore said cheerfully, trying to change the subject, "Me and my family have come a long way, all the way from New York, the big apple itself, in the hopes of speaking to you. I'd like to speak with you about how we might establish a....mutually beneficial relationship between my family and your New Vegas."

"But please," He began to pull something from his jacket pocket, "Before we do so. Perhaps I can share with you a little piece of New York. Eh? This holotape," He said, holding up the small device, "Is a recording of my daughter Lucia and her lovely voice. She sings the largest venues in the city along New Broadway. Please, let me play a bit for you so you might understand the culture we have back home. Lucia, would you do the honors?"

Eagerly, Lucia stood up and grabbed the tape, giddy with excitement at both the prospect of showing off her singing talent, and the chance to upstage her brother. She nearly ran over to a nearby holotape player and popped it in. She could hear it starting up and waited for the first notes of her favorite performance to resound through the room and impress House. Perhaps, she thought, even woo him.

"Hello Robert."

The voice coming from the holotape startled Lucia and she looked down at the holo-player in shock. What had happened to her recording?

"If everything has gone as I'd planned it to, then you picked up on the mention of my name that Antony slipped in, and your curiosity has no doubt led you to invite the 'Borgio Family' to speak with you in a more personal setting. Borgio...I liked the sound of the name. Strong Italian sounding name, don't you think? Perfect for a crime family from New York."

Lucia was horrified, what was going on? Who was this man talking? She likewise looked to her Father, who was equally stunned by the voice emanating from what was supposed to be a recording of Lucia's greatest performance. Antony simply starred blankly at the holo-player, completely dumbfounded.

"How long has it been Robert? 200? 2010 years? Longer? We hadn't seen each other for a few years even before the bombs dropped. You became a recluse and stayed in Vegas, and I lingered on in Boston. I'd wondered what had become of you during that time, and now I understand. You were preparing. You always were a planner. A planner...and one of the best Robotics engineers I'd ever had the pleasure of working with. We all missed you dearly in the department Robert. Suffice to say, I'd given up all hope of ever speaking to you again, even before the bombs fell, and afterwards, I'd thought I was the last of us left. But then I heard rumors of a rebuilt Vegas in the West and this 'convention', and I knew it had to be you. Had your style all over the damn thing. You know, I've heard Calvert may have survived as well, and it seems Bradberton did for certain. Although both in a less than...ideal state.I'm not sure what sort of condition you are in physically Robert, but I daresay I may have come out of the war looking the best of all of us. Granted that wasn't...intended. And I suffered no less, but we can speak on that later....for now, I'd like to show you something..."

Salvatore stood up, and looked profusely apologetic, "Please Mr. House," He began, "Forgive this babbling nonsense. I will chastise my daughter for obviously having grabbed the wrong tape." He began walking over to the holo-player, "Please, let me just remove this and we can...."

"S5-34. Recall code: Arcus."

Salvatore immediately went limp, and slumped over, but remained standing. A blank expression on his face.

Lucia's eyes widened, and she began screaming. Screaming in utter and complete terror.

"A6-26. Recall code: Sierra."

Lucia followed her father, and likewise went limp. No longer screaming, and her face emotionless.

Antony looked on in utter horror. He stammered in fear and shock, and turned to the two bodyguards behind him, but they appeared strangely unfazed by the whole situation. Antony closed his eyes. Somehow he knew what was coming next.

"H4-22. Recall code: Phoenix."

Antony was suddenly struck with visions. Visions of white tiled floors, pristine bright labs, and himself standing naked before an array of individuals in stark white labcoats. All these memories came flooding back to him at once, and he remembered, for the briefest of moments who he really was.

He wasn't real.

Like his 'sister' and 'father' he too, went limp in his chair, his head dropping down.

"I'm sure by now you've realized what these are. Its...astounding, isn't it? I admit, when I first realized what they'd done...how far they'd come. I couldn't believe it myself. You remember my old prototype Robert? The one I showed you before you left CIT? You remember what I'd called it? An android. They've taken my design Robert, and they did more with it then I'd ever thought possible. They've created the Synths. Highly advanced and fully articulate machines. No...more than just machines. 'Machines' doesn't do them justice. Synthetic organic constructs....synthetic people. That's what they are."

"I could say more Robert, but I'm sure you have questions. While I obviously could not attend your convention in person...not until we determined it was safe of course, I wanted to make sure we could have the chance to talk again. If only indirectly. The 'holotape' that A6 placed into the holotape player was more than just a recording. It is a AI system all its own. Something that I designed myself. It is based fully on my own neurological matrix and is programmed to respond to various inquiries. Its response are sometimes...limited, but it is quite capable of answering some basic questions for you. I know its not ideal...but it will have to do for now. So please...ask away."
The Borgio Family - Inside The Gourmand

"Please, everyone, take your seats. The next wing of the New Vegas Convention is underway."

Salvatore perked up as he heard the announcement come down and the face of Mr. House appear on a large nearby terminal. The Don's son, Antony, looked up at the figure of House on the screen like he was seeing a hero for the first time, which he was. His sister, Lucia, however, was far less impressed. And simply rolled her eyes,

"What? He's a computer or something?"

Antony shot her a glare and was about to say something when one of the Gourmand waiters approached.

"Sirs and Madam. If you'll pardon the interruption. But I just received a message from Mr. House's concierge. He's expecting you all in the Lucky 38. He has a room prepared on the 27th floor to meet with you personally."

"Eccellente!" The Don replied excitedly, "We will head there straight away." The Don clasped his son on the back and gave him a warm smile, "You've done well son to set up this meeting. Now, lets go speak with the man himself!"

Antony nodded proudly while Lucia gave a huff but said nothing else. The family then got up from their seats and quietly left the Gourmand, followed closely by their two made-men bodyguards. The group made their way out of the Ultra Luxe and over to the Lucky 38. The doors slid open to them in a dramatic fashion and, awestruck, they entered the old casino.

It felt ancient, and yet pristine. Like a time capsule,

"Right this way please. Mr. House is waiting for you. Step right into the elevator." A nearby securitron informed them.

The New Yorkers dutifully obeyed the robots instruction and stepped inside. A small ding sounded and the doors closed, and they were swiftly taken up to the 27th floor, where yet another robot was waiting for them,

"What's with all these damn robots?" Salavtore muttered under his breath, "Doesn't House have any honest-to-goodness humans working for him?"

The securitron led them to the conference room House had designated for the meeting and took their seats, waiting for the man himself to show.
For your approval.



Approved.

Sorry, was thinking I'd already okay'd this.
I think the problem is more that Fish's a bit in absentia. We still need Skirt's OC approved and she's a veteran Beth forum player. Letter, you can still apply, it's just a question of when Fisheye will see it.

I wonder if he just hasn't seen these and I can somehow tag him. @Fisheye


Fish probably needs to nominate a Co-GM to help him out a bit with the sheet approvals and the like. I get the sense he's been a bit busy lately.

I'd be willing to do it, but I don't want to overstep myself here so that's up to him. Maybe @Gingy could also be a good choice to do it, if he's willing, since his faction is hosting currently. But again, up to Fish.
Dr. Arthur West, Salem Diner

Arthur was cautiously attempting to take another bite of the mutfruit pie when an argument flared up between two of the townspeople in the bar. From what Arthur had been able to catch, one of them was furious at another for not helping an injured person.

“Doctor, there is an Injured woman in that apartment block that I will be bring to your clinic soon... I do not know her current condition but I believe she has been shot and lost a considerable amount of blood... “

Arthur perked up when he saw the man was addressing him. He had a tiny spoonful of pie en-route to his mouth and he stopped midway to look at the man like a deer frozen in headlights. Slowly, he lowered the spoon back to the plate and spoke up,

"Uhh..oh yes...of course...," He said timidly, not exactly liking the attention he was receiving, "Although if the woman's condition is severe I should probably accompany you to make sure she's stable enough to mov..."

He was cut off as the other woman snarled back her rebuttal,
"She is stable. This isn't my first rodeo. I checked her for signs of complications in the time after I bound her wounds. The good doctor would have been an infinitely better alternative, but that wasn't what she wanted, and I honored her wishes. She wanted to be left alone. I am well aware that such a thing is sub-optimal, but it is out of my control."

"....Oh, well then I..." Arthur slowly sat back down on the stool.

"You were on the right track. But she is on the third floor. You gave up too early. I'll take you there, should the good doctor be interested in tagging along. You would be worthless to her on your own. However...I will not take your whiny ass anywhere until you simmer down. You're only making it worse.""

Arthur waited to make sure the woman had finished before he slowly got back up off the stool again. He wasn't sure if he should be standing or sitting at this point. He awkwardly cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses out of nervousness,

"So...um...should I go...grab my medical bag?"

Dr. Arthur West- Salem Diner
Ace smiled, "Mr Makovich was my dad, just call me Ace." Ace headed over to the fridge and picked up a cold Nuka Cola bottle and placed it in front of the doctor along with a clean cup, "It's on the house doc. You sure you don't want anything else? We have radstag stew, noodles, and um... freshly baked Mutfruit Pie? It's all pretty good."

"Ah well...." Arthur thought about it for a moment. The 'radstag stew' didn't sound appealing at all, but perhaps he could try the mutfruit pie. He'd have to get his stomach to tolerate surface food at some point, otherwise he'd starve once he ran out of nutritional supplements, or at least he'd be forced to return to Vault 88 for more, "I'll try a slice of the mutfruit pie as well I suppose. A small one though, I don't want to waste your food if I can't eat it."

Once Ace had brought him his food and drink, Arthur took a sip of the Nuka Cola and cringed slightly. It was alright for 200 year old soda but the taste was...off. He also got the slight tinge of a metallic taste, indicating the radiation in the drink. He was now absolutely sure that Bioscience had completely change the formula back at The Institute, although he couldn't say exactly what the difference was.

He stared at the mutfruit pie for a little while, examining it and poking at it like a child who's mother was forcing him to eat vegetables. Arthur looked around and watched the other patrons at the diner gorging themselves on food, smacking their lips, and telling Ace how delicious it all was. The thought of eating mutated meat and fruit, however, made him gag a bit.

Hesitantly, he cut of a tiny slice of the pie with a spoon and brought it up to his mouth. He sniffed it slightly before taking a small taste with his tongue and finally putting it into his mouth. It was.....interesting. Not as bad as he was expecting, but he could already tell he was going to have stomach problems later if he ate the whole thing. He took another tiny bite and pushed the pie away for now to listen to the talk going around the diner. There was an argument going on about the mutant he'd seen earlier and some of the townsfolk obviously wanted to shoot it while some were asking to give the creature a chance. Then the topic of feeding 'Rook' had come up.

“May I ask what you plan on feeding him? From my experience fighting super mutants In DC they seemed to only eat one thing...humans and unless we have volunteers.” Steve said as he looked around at the people in the dinner “I think he’s gonna go hungry.”
“He’s not having the Horse either....”


"Oh well..." Arthur cleared his throat. He surprised himself with his own voice, as the patrons turned to him, "Actually...while the mutants might normally, um, prefer the taste of human meat. They certainly don't have to have it. They're quite happy with a variety of different meat types, animal or otherwise. I suspect the creature will be able to feed himself quite well given the variety of local fauna around here. 'Rad-stags' and 'Mirelurks' I think they're called, seem to be quite common around Salem."

Edit:

Ace had then come down and set a bag down in front of Arthur. He seemed to be wanting to whisper something to him,

"I'm hoping we can keep what you saw on my arm to yourself."

Arthur looked into the bag and saw it was full of caps. He pushed it back towards Ace,

"Keep it," he said, politely, "You won't have to worry about me. Doctor-patient confidentiality still applies out here and I have no intention of telling anyone about it. I understand the value of privacy, and of keeping things in the past, in the past."



Dr. Arthur West - Outside Salem Church

"Rook is not here for fighting, Rook is here for living and trading. And Rook is building things. Doctor man has no need to check on Rook. Rook is more healthy than... ummm... very healthy humans!"

A mixture of complete confusion and surprise struck Arthur the moment the mutant spoke to him. The tone of the creature was...friendly, even warm. It was fascinating. With all his work on the FEV project, he knew that such a mutant that exhibited decreased aggression levels of this sort was a statistical outlier and an anomaly to be sure. Interestingly, the intelligence of the mutant seemed consistent with usual post-injection results. Were he back in the lab, he'd have isolated the subject and started running a battery of cognitive tests on him to test his mental acuity while also taking regular blood and tissue samples to try and isolate the cause of the passivity.

Thinking quickly, Arthur pulled out a small notepad and pen he kept in his labcoat and jotted down a few shorthand notes. He couldn't help it, it was instinctual at this point. He knew there would be no point in keeping notes or records of any sort regarding a project that he'd long since been removed from by choice and by necessity, but he was still thinking of the science of it all.

Arthur then watched the mutant lumber away and even shake hands with another human. He rapidly wrote down a few more notes and stuffed the notepad back into his labcoat. He'd have to keep his eye on this 'Rook'. He wanted to know what exactly made him so friendly to humans that the vast majority of his kind would have absolutely no qualms about attacking and consuming on the spot.

With his thoughts still abuzz with questions, Arthur made his way over to the diner and took a seat at one of the stools at the counter, one which was the furthest away from the other patrons. Not necessarily because he disliked them, but because he always preferred to stay out of the way whenever possible.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Makovich?" He said politely, talking to the man he'd treated only hours, if not minutes, before, "Could I just get a regular Nuka Cola? If its not too much trouble."

Arthur could barely stomach most of the surface food he'd encountered. A life living off Institute food packets didn't exactly prepare his stomach, or his tastebuds, for wasteland cuisine. Nuka Cola at least, they'd had at The Institute. A favorite for the children. Although what they'd manufactured there tended to have quite a different taste from the 200 year old lukewarm beverages that surface dwellers consumed. Arthur wasn't quite sure if Bioscience had been following the old formula for the drink, but he guessed that they weren't.

As he sat waiting, he heard the radio report about the Minutemen and their battle with a group called 'The Gunners'. He was intimately familar with The Minutemen, and only familiar with the Gunners insofar as he knew their reputation. He didn't comment on the news himself, but did listen in to some of the talk he heard from the wastelanders about it.

“Pttf...These Gunner morons have nothing compared to the Talon Company, Took all of the Brotherhood Tin-can forces, enclave tech and a surprise attack to take us out... these losers? Get beaten by a bunch of farmers playing dress up.”

Arthur wasn't exactly sure who or what exactly Talon Company was, but he wasn't about to underestimate The Minutemen. Not again, at least. Not when they were being led by...well...him.

He grimaced slightly, at the thought of the man who'd betrayed The Institute, and his own child. Then again, the man could have quite easily executed Arthur. He could have slaughtered everyone in The Institute if he'd wanted, but he hadn't. He'd displayed a remarkable amount of diplomacy and compromise there.

Pity, Arthur thought, He might have made an excellent Director.

OOC: For Tib's character. Rolled a 1 so that's a pass. Also we're approaching evening in-RP time.

Far Harbor Docks - Rose

In her distraught and frustrated state, Steve was easily able to tail Rose through the docks of Far Harbor. The fading daylight intermingled with the thickening fog and masked his movements, leaving her completely unaware of his presence.

Rose seemed unsure of herself and she twitched with nervousness. Jumping at shadows and the odd harborman that passed her on the dock. It was clear she was paranoid if not outright terrified. She walked straight through the town and then up to the hull. After looking around her, she ducked out and over a low point on the makeshift wall and came down on the other side, making a run for a nearby abandoned building in the town proper.

(OOC: Assuming Steve still intends to follow her beyond that)

Inside the building, she had a small makeshift camp setup with a small ham radio on the ground that she had apparently scavenged from Far Harbor somewhere. She was playing with the radio, trying to get it to receive anything other than the complete static she'd been hearing constantly,

"Mercer Safehouse. Come in Mercer..." She pleaded into the radio microphone, "Goddammit come in. I need help!"

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