Stormyx

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

I’m having discord trouble;

What happens next is I have the docs ready to share with each team. I’ll be updating the server with a channel for each team where I will share the information about each section of the bunker.

I’ll be playing a character in all 3 collabs, so hang tight for now and I’ll get the docs to you asap :)

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

23/05/2047

---

As the last of the sun dropped down behind the mountains, and the air slowly began to turn cold - Addison’s results trickled through on a tablet she held in her hand. For the most part, it looked to simply be nature. Just a rock sat on dry and cracked earth, that was until the device picked up a shadow.

A shadow that sat beneath the rocks. “Oh you son of a bitch,” she commented - amusement laced her tone and a smirk pulled at her lips. A pang of relief hit her - that it hadn’t been a wasted journey, and there was even excitement. What was the shadow? And how would they get down to reach it…

Alex and Shirley arrived a few moments later, the Tower’s heavy footfalls creating small clouds of dust as they approached Addison’s position. The British duo had parked their rental some distance away, allowing for the pair to approach on foot, drawing less attention than driving up in their car. In stark contrast to her brother, Beacon was clad in more form-fitting, casual attire; a pair of hiking boots, cargo pants, a t-shirt underneath a crop-top jacket, fingerless leather gloves, along with a shemagh, baseball cap and her signature aviator shades.

Her brother, true to form, still wore his Union Jack t-shirt, but he’d left his thick trench coat in their motel room, with the same gloves, flat cap, domino mask, rugged denim jeans and combat boots. His cybernetics, an older generation model kept up to date with shiny new parts, were visible past his short sleeves in the fading evening light as he knelt down next to Addison, the layer of nanites rippling ever so slightly as they warmed up in preparation for potential use. Shirley, meanwhile, stood nearby, arms crossed while she waited for the other supers to show up, using her command of light to dim their presence somewhat to the outside eye. It would look as if the trio were under a tarp made of shadow that blended in with their surroundings as the sun set, Shirley’s powers pushing out the ambient light in their area.

”So, what’ve we got?”

--

Bullshit you're leaving me behind, boss. I don't care if it's conspicuous! 'fit all goes to shit, you're gonna wish I was there. Besides, we're prepared for just such an occasion. Remember the camo-paint package we popped in last year?

Wish I could say I didn't, Ed grumbled, but he sighed instead. Yeah, okay. You're right. He hated when Dave was right. Well, he hated when he was wrong, but when compared to the actual superhumans he was getting wrapped up with, he needed all the help he could get. Alright, stealth maneuvers, or whatever.

Right on, boss. Dave's chassis flickered briefly, then faded to match the surroundings. ET had no idea how it worked, but that didn't matter. Now cloaked, the pulled off the road toward the meeting point. They'd had to drive for days to make it here, but it wasn't like he had anything else to do.

"Ready to suit up, Gabbie?" ET asked out loud. Sometimes it was good to hear himself talk.

"For you, handsome, always.". Her voice was also audible, rather than in his head. Nobody else could hear her, but it did make him feel just a little bit less crazy.

"I'm going to ignore that," he said, lifting the suit of armor up and on to his back. It sealed around him as they pulled up to the target, and he hopped out of the car with an audible crunch. "I guess you're going to want to stick close, Dave. Gabbie, cue the camo." Gabbie had been irate that 'she didn't also get the cool camo bullshit, I thought you loved me Edward--' so she'd gotten a similar, if less-effective upgrade.

ET couldn't see anything, but he could feel The Tower's cybernetics not too far away. And, another set. It hadn't noticed his prodding, so he kept it that way. The less digitals that knew about him, the better. He waved in the Tower's general direction.

--

He’d forgotten how cold night in the desert was. Not that anyone would notice him underneath the cloak of Sight of Night. The oily slickness of the trinket made him invisible to the eyes of everyone else. The cyberized federale, the Tower along with an unknown woman had arrived on the scene before him. He approached the group, unseen underneath his coat of midnight, before unveiling himself in the middle of the group, tossing off Sight of Night. He gently began to fold the enchanted fabric into his pocket before speaking out towards the group.

[color=pink]“Hola, amigos.”[/pink] Lazlo’s words were tinged with the mechanical inhale and exhale of his gas mask. He reminisced in the dry, cold wind that left prickles on his tattooed arms and the way the sand parted underneath his boots, surrendering without yielding underneath his weight. New Mexico reminded him of childhood memories in Tijuana. Yet, it made him uneasy being this close to the border. Hopefully, the federales wouldn’t catch him off guard on this goose-chase that Reynolds had led them on. What would Hex even want in a place like this?

The anarchist artist lazed down on an outcrop of sandstone that protruded out from the sands to the right of Reynolds. The former agent looked as if she’d struck gold. She was holding some kind of device and was staring intently at a lonely rock in the distance. Was that what they had come here for?

“Judging by your expression, Reynolds…” Lazlo muttered, taking out a notepad and beginning to sketch in it. “ I’m assuming you haven’t led us out in the middle of nowhere for nothing.”

---

It was difficult for Maysah to call herself lost as she stared down at the old paper map. She had managed to stay off of the grid on her trek down to New Mexico, burning just one of her dwindling supply of glamour pills to book a room at a rundown motel that still boasted its premium cable channels and by-the-hour room fees. She would’ve preferred nicer commodities, but after literally running the two thousand something miles from a quick resupply back home to Albuquerque, the only thing that mattered to her had been a shower and a bed before she zipped off to wander the desert like a lost prophet. She had managed to pin down the area that Reynolds told them to meet at on the old map, but when that area was “most of the desert” it wasn’t a very impressive feat. Still, Maysah couldn’t call herself lost. In a matter of seconds, she could find her way.

She just couldn’t bring herself to look at her phone again.

Maysah first saw the message that ET had sweet-talked his phone into sending after the warehouse meeting with Reynolds. She was thankful that none of the others were around, because the mess of emotions that flashed upon her face as she saw a text from her dead husband Henri likely would’ve brought some sly comment. The message said, “You can trust him,” a statement so infuriatingly vague that Maysah was able to avoid confronting her unburied feelings by focusing intently on the mystery of the phrase. It was a mystery compounded even more by the fact that Henri’s number was no longer connected. She had tried calling it. It, much like her husband, was long dead...

She managed to narrow where the message came from down to five possibilities. One, Henri somehow managed to contact her from the grave and everything she knew about life and death was wrong. Two, Hex somehow managed to contact her from the grave and was a real asshole, or more likely he had setup a way to message her before he died and was still an asshole. Three, it was a technological glitch. Four, she was going crazy. Five, someone was fucking with her. Whichever it was, Maysah knew one thing: she didn’t want to look at her phone again.

She looked up from the paper map. The sun was going down, casting a picturesque orange glow across the rock, sand, and cacti as the evening’s purple began to take its place. Maysah didn’t know what time it was exactly because, again, she was being a luddite and refusing to use her phone, but she knew she was late. She bit her lip.

“Damn it,” she said as she plunged her hand into her pocket.

---
The group didn’t see some purple streak rocketing towards them with a trail of dust kicking up behind it as Maysah approached. Instead, they’d see a middle-aged woman dressed in a cardigan and mom jeans glaring down at an obsolete smartphone with a somewhat perplexed look on her face as she tried to figure out how to update her own coordinates on the map, most likely muttering to herself. Every once in a while Maysah would glance up with a confused look towards where Shirley’s powers was masking the group, and she let out an audible “oh!” as she stepped past the threshold where their little shadowy hideout became visible. Maysah stuffed the phone in her back pocket, straightened the tiny backpack she was carrying, and slowly made her way over to the others. It was a notably more mild approach than her previous one.

“Oh, you look more normal than I thought you would,” said Maysah to Shirley, mistaking her for an out of costume Spellbound. “Glad you ditched the creepy suit.”

--

”Thanks. Honestly, the suit was weird. But at least it worked with my robot parts.”

Shirley brushed a lock of hair away from her face as Maysah approached their little hidey hole. She’d been startled by the sudden appearance of Avant Garde within her pocket of shadow, although to be fair, her powers were only the manipulation of light, not a force field. If anything, her brother would’ve responded, although he hadn’t. Which was weird.

In fact, Alex had almost ground Avant Garde to a pulp, had his motion sensors not picked up an anomalous reading from the ground as the criminal approached, his footsteps setting off the alarms in the computer in his head. But once the Mexican unveiled himself in the middle of their charade, the alarms ceased.

---

The woman in black had walked across the desert. Crossing the sand from Albuquerque one effortless step at a time. Shrouded in her costume Spellbound vanished into the fading day, her pale features hidden beneath the midnight glass of her helmet. The approaching cold did not bother her. It was familiar by now, if not entirely welcome.

She had taken a train from Chicago to Albuquerque. It was quieter than paying a spellcaster to teleport her across the continent. She had needed to stop in Chicago. There were enough discreet wizards operating there. She needed supplies. Magic did not heed her call any more, but she recalled enough for rudimentary wards and rituals. She would be prepared. Hex had always dabbled in magic that was far beyond him and whatever it was he had found in New Mexico was liable to be a danger even to the undead.

Spellbound did not need magic or technology to find Addison and the other superheroes. She had a map. A map with a large red X on it. She had purchased the map from a thrift store in Albuquerque for the princely sum of $2.50. Magic could be traced. Technology could be intercepted. A map could be burned.

A leather messenger bag was slung over her left shoulder and neatly folded inside were her traveling clothes. It had felt strange to leave her crypt without her costume on. It had been a minute since she had worn civilian clothing. It was not awful. No one had recognized her. She was just another pale emo kid heading towards the border. The steel of her 9mm pistol rested reassuringly against the small of her back. It reminded her she was there for a reason. She did not trust Addison or the other superheroes. She did not fear them. After all, they were dying. But she would not give them power over her. A name was power. A face to recall was power. She would not share. Not yet. Not until she was certain. Not until she knew.

They were loud. So loud. And she could feel a hint of magic. The Paintbinder, she thought with mild disgust. His magic was offensive. He reminded her of Hex in all the worst ways. Beneath her mask she frowned. She was remembering the habits of the living. Making faces was important. Anger was good.

She walked past the others, only stopping some distance ahead of them. She was not interested in their conversations. Not when she could see it. She might have smiled, had she remembered. With a slight turn of her head towards the assembled heroes, Spellbound pointed at the shadow that danced in front of her,“There’s something very odd about that shadow.”

The voice that escaped the black mirrored helmet sounded mildly bored, but very much alive. Spellbound had been practicing. She tried to remember what it was like to be twenty and full of life.
--
Whatever was going on around her, Addison didn’t really register it. Not even that the Beacon was here, all glowing and beautiful. Not when she was looking on the screen, anyway. At least not until Spellbound came to her side, her voice soft and as ghostly as she looked. Addison drew her gaze from the screen and to her with something of a smirk.

“It’s no shadow, look-” she held up the technology for her, and there it was, as clear as day on the tablet as the shape became clearer and clearer. “This is a bunker, a pretty damn big one too… I’m going to go out on a limb here and say we’ve found one of Hex’s secret bases…” she laughed slightly, a shrug of her shoulders followed.

“Just one problem, it’s completely encased in the rock. Unless…” Addison drew her gaze to the formation again, and to the eerie echoes of shadow that were upon the screen, swirling over the straight angles of the bunker. “Unless those aren’t rocks at all…”
--
A random bunker in the middle of the desert. ET didn’t know exactly what was going through Hex’s head when the guy made this, but you had to respect the man’s need for privacy. There wasn’t any signals or voices coming from the rock-looking case, but they could just be shielded like his suit was.

Only one way to go about this. Alright, Dave. Do it to ‘em..

To the others, he motioned toward his mostly-camouflaged car. “Don’t freak out.” At that moment, a tear-gas grenade launched from the car, arcing over them toward the shadows. It was a dud--turned off so they didn’t waste their stock.

Still, using riot tactics on a pile of rocks wasn’t how he’d expected to start contributing to the team.
--
A bunker? Lazlo squinted his eyes and began to notice a wispy outline clouded underneath the boiling shadow. Guess magic was still capable of surprising him after all this time. No trinket that he ever made could match the remnants of what Hex had left behind for them. He was an amateur while Hex was a master of his art. His hand wandered over towards a patch of scarred skin on his shoulder. He’d taught him that after all.

The familiar sound of a whump made him raise his guard as a smoke grenade sailed over his head and landed near the vicinity of the bunker with a metallic ding. He’d almost sunk his hand into the paper to pull out a trinket before realising that it was a dud. Behind his expressionless gas mask, Lazlo rolled his eyes in annoyance. Leave it to the federales to shoot first and ask questions later.

“We’re not going to learn anything if we stand around here like idiotas.” He kept the notepad inside one of his pockets whilst raising his left arm upwards. “Let’s shed some light on the situation.”

His gloved hand reached over towards a tattoo hidden within the crook of his elbow, plunging his finger in, and pulling out a saucer with a partially melted wax candle. Taking out an electric lighter, Lazlo pressed the charred wick of Dying Light against the flame. The trinket grew a soft bell-shaped flame that was light crimson in color. Lazlo raised the saucer upwards and the light loomed upon the shadows, attempting to part it away.

Both the grenade and Lazlo’s art had done something.

The illusion had cracked, and to Addison, it felt as though it was almost too easily done, and she pondered over the idea that perhaps Hex had planned it that way. Then there was the notion that it could have all been a trap…

Nevertheless, she kept her eyes fixed on the scene, Supers at her side. It just evaporated like hot water - the oranges and browns of what had been the rock formation drifted away like steam on a breeze, revealing what appeared to be an open crater in its place - the solid grey roof of a building in the centre.

She was able to obtain a better reading, and it showed that there were a series of potential entrances. It made little sense to the Officer to send them all in the same way.

“Spellbound, Arbiter - take that east entrance, Avant Garde, Stardust - the roof. Meanwhile,” Addison peeled her eyes from the screen of the tablet, and met the siblings with a half-cocked smile. It was excitement and anxiousness in equal measure. “We’ll take the front door. Sound good? Good.”

Addison didn’t wait for her answer, instead making off over the sand. It was time to open the bunker.

Fallout: Rust and Steel

Kinsley looked into Chowder’s eyes, and placed a hand either side of his neck and scratched him vigorously the way that she knew he liked. His tail wagged, and a quiet but excited whine came from his mouth in between his pants. He knew he was going to be set to work. The doctor bit her lip nervously, it had been Alex who had done all of the training with their dog, and she’d only watched and half listened when he told her how to send him out.

It was all in the arm motions, and Chowder was a good dog who understood them, and not only that, but her enjoyed being put to work. It was as she’d said, he was made for this. “You be good now,” she whispered, and he returned her words by bringing a paw into her lap, closing his mouth. He moved to look at Patty, and then back to Kinsley. Several times he looked between them. He wanted her to be safe, for Patty to keep her safe while he was gone.

The two approached the door quietly, and still slouched low, Kinsley made a gesture with her arm - throwing it out in a straight direction, before bringing her forearm into her chest - her elbow sticking out. He shot off across the distance. He was fast, like a bullet and left dust behind him.

Chowder wanted to be good, to do good. That would make Kinsley happy if he did a good job. He approached the ghouls, taking a slide at the crowd. He barked three times, getting the attention of most but there was still a decent distance between them. He would give them a good chase. After the barks, their silence was broken and the anguished screams and groans from their necrotic lungs rang out through the mist. Spluttering. Wheezing. Screaming. They came for him, and with the same motions he ran off again, he would take them in circles but before that he needed to move them from his humans.

To keep them on his tail, he barked intermittently throughout his chase…

Back in the body of the vertibird, Kinsley listened for his barking. Counting them and listening for the decrease in volume to quantify how far he had taken them. “Brown, my ears aren’t so good - keep count of his barks when he gets further, won’t you? And if he stops barking let me know…”

“You got it,” Patty said. She reaffixed her helmet and nodded towards the doctor before turning her attention to the horde of rotskins that lay ahead. Her power-armored hands gripping tightly to the minigun’s two handles. The belt-fed weapon was locked-and-loaded and trained on the ghouls incase they tried any funny business.

As Chowder zooms off, herding the bulk of the horde and keeping them busy, it seems that his barking has stirred up something in the remaining ghouls. Those who don’t claw and lunge their way towards him, turn their heads and take notice of the big metal craft and the two humans inside. Their rotting faces twist and snarl with rage as they realize what was happening just out of earshot.

Their emaciated and rag-draped bodies began to move like they had a mind of their own, limbs flailing wildly as they ran full-speed towards the vertibird. First one or two bodies made their way, but they brought the attention of more and more - now eight or nine shufflers sprinted down the ravine towards their position.

“We’ve got company! Weapons hot!” Knight Brown yelled.

She swiveled the minigun to line up with the front-most of the group and squeezed the trigger to spin the barrels. The weapon sped up to a blurry mess before emitting a terrible screeching sound and suddenly locking up. The motor of the gun strained against itself as it tried in vain to spin the barrels - only managing to produce a puff of smoke and a lot of heat.

“Oh, goddamn it all,” Patty screamed, dropping the handles in frustration. She reached behind herself to grab the laser rifle she slung over her power armor and jumped down from the vertibird’s carriage.

“Doc, put that pistol of yours to use and blast these damn rotters a new one.”

Without much more thoroughfare, Patty began to fire off bursts of automatic laser fire in the direction of the approaching swarm. Several beams of light impacted with the leader, burning away at its rotten flesh before it was nothing but a pile of ashes.

An eloquent choice of words that could have only come from the mouth of a Knight, Kinsley thought as she brought out her own pistol. It was no fandangled piece of weaponry like the fancy thing that Brown was holding, firing off with absolute confidence. The shimmering lights that were so beautiful in a way until they made contact with the ghouls. The bodies that were simultaneously bloated and emaciated at the same time. Blowing up in a spray of rotten flesh - the smell was something else entirely.

She took aim with her own weapon, so bland in comparison. Taking her time to wait for the right moment before she pulled the trigger, the screeching of them drowning out just about anything else. “Shut your hollering,” Kinsley commented. It wasn’t a yell, like what the words should have been - and it would have been had they come from the mouth of someone with the kind of chutzpah that Brown clearly possessed. Still, there was enough grit in Kinsley’s tone to allude to the amount of danger and fearlessness that she harboured under the surface.

Her while timed single shot cracked a ghoul in the head. It didn’t create quite the overall blasting effect of the energy weapon - but the putrid skull still exploded in spectacular fashion. The legs continued on their forward trajectory until the momentum ran out and they buckled.

Despite their combined efforts, the ghouls still closed ground. One rushed Patty and lunged at her, swinging its arm in a wide arc and slapping against her power armor. She raised her rifle and bashed the ghoul back and fired off several laser beams point-blank into its torso. The grotesque creature howled in agony before falling onto its back dead. Patty breathed a short sigh of relief as the thing collapsed, which was soon interrupted by a smack on the back of the head as another one of these things got a blow on her.

Patty swiveled around as the ghoul prepared to swing once more and gave it a firm kick with her power-armored foot, sending the abomination rolling across the dusty ground. As the ghoul rolled back onto its feet, Brown mustered a charge and plowed full-speed into the ghoul smearing its gore against her pauldron and slamming it against the ground again - this time it didn’t get up.

“Yeah, how’s it feel you disgusting sack of shit?” If Patty didn’t have her helmet on, she would’ve spat.

Levelling her rifle, she looked around to see if any ghouls had slipped past her and towards Kinsley. That was her main goal - didn’t matter how many hits she took, if any of the others got hurt it was on her. She’d put her body on the line to keep them safe - and the power armor helped, of course.

While she was lost in her own thoughts, Patty began to feel a weight pull against the servos of her power armor. Looking down, a couple of ghouls had taken hold of her waist, clawing feebly against the plates of metal trying to pull her down while a few more closed in to overtake her. Their arms flailed wildly as they battered Patty with powerful strikes - each one dealing an almost superhuman amount of damage to her armor and more importantly her pride.

Kinsley fired off a few unsuccessful shots into the air, and each bullet disappeared into the glow of the atmosphere around them until her little pistol was fresh out. For the most part, and to her credit, Brown had kept the creatures at bay. Now it seemed that she was being thwarted. Broken creatures stumbling around and grasping at the woman, trying to pull her down into their new domain - their eyes ravenous and skeletal fingers desperate for her.

One of them stumbled around with a clumsy foot - trying to make purchase on her power armour as if it were a ladder to victory. Kinsley wasn’t prepared to let it, and there was a degree of a special kind of recklessness involved in her quick decision. She reached for a long piece of broken pipe, rounded at the end, and she moved to the distracted ghouls.

She gripped the pipe tightly at the end and gave a wholloping golf swing with it, taking the ghoul’s head clean off its shoulders with an almighty whoosh - sending it hurtling against a solid metal wall. The thing simply cracked like an egg and slopped down the wall, a viscous mixture of flesh and bone. Kinsley wasn’t done either, she continued her melee assault to free Brown.

Kinsley’s assault didn’t go unnoticed. In the momentary lapse in the ghoul’s attention, Patty seized the opportunity to turn the tide. Managing to pull one of her legs free, she raised it as high into the air as her suit of power armor would allow her and slammed it down, shattering the skull of one of the ghouls into a fine red paste. One-by-one the rotskins fell as she regained control of her rifle and fired off what remained of her microfusion cell into their twisted and obscene bodies.

When the fighting was over, the mangled corpses of ghouls lay on the ground in a heap of flesh, bone, and ash - utterly unrecognizable from people they used to be. Patty took a deep sigh of relief and glanced around - with the quiet din of battle fading she could hear a comforting sound.

Bark! Bark! Bark!

“Chowder’s still… kicking…” Patty said, trying to catch her breath in the space between words.

She took a long breath in and cleared her throat, turning to look at Kinsey. A sense of respect overcame her as she noticed the bloodied pipe in her hand. Beneath the helmet a grin of satisfaction crossed her face.

“Nice fucking chops, doc,” she laughed, “keep it up and we might make a knight out of you yet.”

Kinsley let the gored pipe drop from her grip, and became aware of a painful throbbing in her leg. As she looked down, she made out that she had been cut by something. It couldn't have been the deformed hands of the ghouls, it was too clean and precise for that. It was then that Kinsley noticed that there was a piece of torn metal protruding from the entry way. She'd sliced herself in some part, before or after, the assault. Hard to tell now, only that it stung. A bleeding laceration six inches long to her calf. "Well then…" she remarked at it.

She didn't hear Chowder, but she gave a ghost of a smile upon hearing he was alright and still out there. Hopefully wearing out the rest of the nightmarish creatures so that they wouldn't return.

"No interest in that title, Brown.. " she said wearily, looking up at her colleague with respect in her eyes too. "We should check on other Brown and Algarin…" The stinging in her leg was hot, and the blood sticky. It would be worthwhile to take a quick breather to take stock, patch up, and plan their next move.

Fallout: Rust and Steel

“I’m still alive. Dog still alive… Die another day, I suppose,” Kinsley breathed out into the atmosphere, a hapless statement whispered towards the flicked ear of her canine companion as she spotted him close to her, as always - his eyes out on the horizon and on the looming threat amidst the mists that they were entrenched in. He whimpered quietly.

Trauma.

Her round doe eyes scanned instinctively for someone in the ship and in the torn shreds outside before narrowing. There were more aboard, she knew that much. She hadn’t given it too much thought, she’d just sat and glazed over as she always did - Chowder had been sat between her knees - his own backpack fastened over his rough blue and white coat. As always, his tail was wagging furiously at the salutes - yelping as if in unison with them.

The ringing in her ears was thicker than usual, louder too. Or was that a different sound? As she turned on her heel, she saw in the cockpit the young Knight, gardening apparently. A deep crease formed over Kinsley’s brow and she made a dash for it.

Still in the pilot’s seat was Frank, pinned in place by the sharp and knotted arm of a tree - punched through him. Kinsley stopped at his side, her eyes moved over him, and the remaining buzz of Brown’s weapon was the undertone of her evaluation. A young Kinsley would have looked at this as a challenge, and a younger Kinsley might have been more prepared to accept it. But not this Kinsley. Her lips pulled to the side, and she took hold of Frank’s hand.

“It’s Frank, right?” She asked in her disturbingly gentle voice, before turning her face to catch Brown’s gaze, it was a single look — with strength enough to demand her attention.

Patty nodded and matched the look, strength for strength. Dr. Kinsley might be older than she, but she was no soldier - hell, a few years ago Patty would’ve considered her a local. Still, she had seen the things she could do in the medbay. Brothers went in, shot, sliced, and burned to hell and are still kicking. That warranted respect, of a sort. Patty stepped aside and motioned toward the cockpit with her free arm and said, “He’s all yours, doc.”

In the meantime, Lancer Brown had made his way back over to the cockpit. He wasn't going to be much use for Knight Brown's plan, so he thought he'd offer his help seeing to his pilot-in-arms with tree-in-torso. He brushed past Patty, giving a nod of respect for her command and lack of objection to her minigun-centric tactics. He then crouched next to Frank, on the opposite side to Dr. Kinsley, and sincerely asked "is there anything I can do to help?". As he said this, he gave Frank, who was losing his wits as if they were located in his blood, a worried look. The man was uncharacteristically vacant, breathing heavily and roughly.

Frank indicated the chest pocket of his flight suit. Breathing labored, blood pooling in his chair, the pilot had no illusions of survival. His mouth tightened into a thin red line. “My kids. Give them,” he groaned until his words faded in the air. Eyes glazed, devoid of light and aimed at Lancer Brown. The doctor held his hand, but the burden fell onto Brown.

Sami reached into the pocket that the late pilot had gestured towards, knowing full well what it contained. He somberly looked upon the photograph, and felt his heart sink as he realised that the two siblings it depicted had just been made orphans. They may never have an idea of why dad didn't come home if the rest of the crew didn't make it out of this desolate land. Either way, their lives just got a lot harder.

Sami struggled to hold back a tear for his fallen comrade. He'd known loss of friends before, and Frank was barely even an acquaintance, but he felt upset by his death that had so suddenly come about, if only because it exemplified the fragility of life and of its enjoyment. One moment the Lancer was cracking jokes about good times, the next he was choking to death on his own blood.

And with that thought, Sami wondered what the fuck he was doing here.

The crease in Kinsley's brow relaxed and she slowly blinked, placing a hand flat over their now deceased pilot's eyes to gracefully close them. "Ad victoriam" she said quietly, once again the words blanketed under her breath.

His blood perfumed the air, and then Chowder was beside her too, his eyes bright and attentive. "No boy, no," Kinsley said, rubbing his ear with only a sliver of the affection that Grimshaw would have. He placed his chin in Frank's bloody lap, a weak whimper came out of him again.

"Are you hurt Brown?" She asked, turning to face the Lancer who had made his way to them. Sami shook his head, and murdered a faint 'no'. "You too Brown… Other Brown. Are you hurt?" A brow quirked in the Knight's direction, and she had something of a word or two for her, but even she had enough tact about her to not do it while someone was in a state of grief at her side. She knew that look, those eyes. Her entire life had been spent under the deep scrutiny of those eyes.

“I’m fine,” said Knight Brown.

That wasn’t the truth - well, the whole truth anyway. Her head was pounding and she was a little dizzy, but she’d be damned if a little headache was going to stop her. She shook her head to erase the thought from her mind. A man had just died and here she was thinking about a damn headache.

“Guys,” Owen shooshed, waving a hand back toward the others. “Keep it down. Damn doors won’t shut... We’re screwed if they hear us.”

Craning his neck out of the left door, he caught a glimpse of the area. Tall trees stripped down into lithe, blackened things. Puddles that seemed to glisten eerily close akin to glass. The ruins here appeared particularly devastated. Skeletal remains of a forest the scribe imagined had once thrived here.

Owen turned back to the group and gestured outside. “I don’t know if trying to mow them down is the best move. What if something goes wrong?” The scribe rubbed the dreadlocks running along the top of his head. “I mean, could we try to fix the damage? Maybe patch it up long enough to hop out of here?”

“Best way to find the others is from above,” Kinsley chimed in, in as hushed of a tone as she always did. Pointing up to the sky before placing that finger upon her temple, half scratching at her hairline, and half tapping as if in thought. “They could only have gotten so far away from us, based on the speed of the bird here and whatever direction we were facing when they were flung… And how far up or down we were.” She shrugged, eyes moving left to right as if she was already putting together an equation for maximum distance fallen in the moment of silence between speaking again. “I also do not wish us to fire a gun if it can be helped. Could be more of those things lurking out of sight. Fifty counted does not mean fifty in total. Don’t be the hare in this situation.”

“What other equipment do we have onboard?” Patty asked, “If we won’t go in guns blazing, at the very least I want to be ready for them when they finally notice us. I’ll be damned if one of you brings down the horde on us with our pants down,” she said in a half-whisper, so as to avoid drawing the attention of the ghouls.

She shook her head and turned to Lancer Brown, “You know how to fix these things, right? I’ll have your back if you want to try to repair it quietly.”

"Yeah I can have a look at the wing. It's probably just a case of fixing the servos. But it might be loud and attract those rotskins. I don't wanna be a sitting duck out there", replied the (co-)pilot.

“If we need to, Chowder can do a run around and force them from the area but it’s risky for him…” Kinsley offered, despite her beliefs that he was the luckiest dog left -- he really was still in danger if they had to use such a tactic. “He’s a good herding dog, he’ll know what to do so just say the word…”

"That could be an idea", Sami responded. "But Ghouls ain't Brahmin. Are you sure you wanna risk his life like that?". He scratched the dog on his chin as he spoke. Chowder was certainly a very good boy. He always liked dogs, and mistrusted cats. "Are you up for that, boy?", Sami asked the dog, rhetorically of course. Though if Chowder spoke back, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen in Sami's witness.

Kinsley brought herself down to Chowder's level, placing a hand on his head, before meeting Lancer Brown's eyes with her own, "he's made for things like this, just like you're made to fix this broken bird." Sami stuck his bottom lip out and slowly nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Well ain't destiny just a specific bitch", he mumbled to himself, but audibly enough so the rest of the group could hear him. "Alright then. I'll need as much time as you can give me, it could be a quick fix or a while if it's something substantial. And I won't know until I see the damage".

“So, we send Chowder out as a distraction. I can cover you while you check things out, Brown. And if things go to shit.” Owen pointed to the minigun. “Patty will be ready with the big gun. If you’re sure about this Kinsley, then I think we’ve got a plan.” He could notice Sami already nodding in his peripheral.

“We’re between a rock and a hard place… We have to get this fixed to find the others. If running off the ghouls gives us our best shot, it’s the best shot,” Kinsley sighed wearily, “He’s fast, and has more stamina than you’d expect, and a good drive. He’s hardy. But just in case…” The doctor reached into her own bag, removing a notepad and pen - and on it she began to scrawl out a message.

Vertibird down. Algarin, Brown, Brown, Kinsley alive. Surrounded by ghouls. Fixing the vertibird. Look to the skies.

She carefully folded the paper, and slipped it into one of the pockets on Chowder’s own lightweight backpack. “If he can’t make it back to us, he’ll keep running. Maybe he’ll find the others and they should know we’re alive. Or that we were. It’s a shot in the dark.”

Fallout: Rust and Steel

Great posts so far friends!

Hey @Lo Pellegrino could we get a Discord for plotting and planning purposes maybe? I... I very rarely jump on here unless it's to post.

Fallout: Rust and Steel

The clinic of the Prydwen was quiet for this time of day. That wasn’t unusual. Most people were too busy now to swing through unless they were frightfully ill or injured. Today was quiet, which was a relief for the Senior Scribe who had been on duty.

The senior scribe was one that most knew to avoid if it could be helped. She wasn’t particularly stern or obtuse - just strange and with an eerie nature to her. Her movements slow and precise and conversation whispery and seldom. While it was common to express that people had a hard shell and soft centre, for this senior scribe the opposite was the truth. She was outwardly soft, but nursing something hard and bitter inside. Like a peach, easily bruised.

Her eyes could be off putting too. At first, they had the power to draw you in. The ocean blue hue was resplendent in its quality - like a jewel both rare and valuable. But the redness in the corners upon closer inspection, and the smoky glaze told that the woman had simply seen too much. She didn’t look at you, she looked right to the core of you, and shrugged off the truth of you that she uncovered with an indifferent sigh.

Today, as was the case on any other day, she wasn't sleeping, she was simply basking. Laid atop the hard solid steel of an examination table in the corner of the clinic. Knees drawn and pointed at the ceiling, a fan blowing white noise in her direction. Long and unkempt auburn hair was spread around her like a pillow. The natural light drawing attention to the few strands of silver that framed her face — only visible in the light, and retreating back to the warmth of the flames when it was dark.

It had been approximately thirty-two minutes of shut eye. She would occasionally drift off, her mind creating banal situations that always had just enough of a strangeness about them to remind her it was a dream and not reality. Like Elder Maxson approaching her with a serving of processed cheese slapped across one cheek, his voice humming bizarre words in her ear “I don’t wear the cheese, the cheese wears me…”

Whatever the scenario, they were always just surreal enough to draw her out of slumber. If it wasn't curious imagery, it was someone clattering apparatus - the harsh sound bursting the elusive bubble of sleep..

It was at exactly forty-five minutes that she felt the familiar cold, wet nose pressed against the hand she hung over the table. Regular as clockwork. Dr. Harper Kinsley slowly opened her eyes, letting the light from above spill in through the skylight, bright blue freckled with clouds, the slot of a window provided warmth too.

She glanced down at her happy looking dog, Chowder. A medium sized creature, his coat coarse in a mixture of browns and blues - a dark patch over his eye. He was as unique a dog as any, and still at eleven years old, as mischievous as a puppy. He dropped a stolen boot for her, nudging it closer with his nose in her direction.

Kinsley sighed and groaned; “Chowder… I can’t keep doing this…” she spoke at last - her voice laced with exhaustion and exasperation. She rubbed at her eyes. “Where’d you get this thing from?” She asked him accusingly, sitting up on the table. Chowder simply stared up, panting - his mouth so wide and the corners so high that he appeared to be grinning at her.

As her legs swung over the table, he briefly closed his mouth and whimpered ever so quietly, placing a paw on her thigh, pushing his claws against her.

“Alright, alright. You can get your feed when we take this back…” she said, patting him three times on his head. He panted happily again, skittering off in the direction of the door, waiting there for her to catch up. “Got stuff to plan for you know… Missions. Shouldn’t be playing treasure hunt with you, Chowder.”

---

“Dr. Kinsley!” Came the cheerfully chirpy voice of a young initiate, the soles of his shoes squeaked against the alloy flooring as he hopped, stepped, and jumped to greet the Dr on her way around. She blinked in surprise, taken aback by the abundant bounciness in the boys heels. Like a coiled spring, taunting her with his youth and motion. Her blue eyes were drawn to the pad in his hands. She vaguely recalled sending the youngster off with a mathematical problem some days ago.

“Initiate…” she croaked out quietly from behind clenched teeth. She released the grip of her thumb and forefinger so that the boot fell on the ground beside her with a clattering thud. Chowder parked himself beside it, panting happily, a wagging tail dusting the floor beneath him.

“I solved it!” He said, triumphantly, chest puffing out with pride as he handed the paper over, waiting in anticipation for her praise.

Kinsley’s eyes barely skimmed the page when she shook her head, and gave a small yawn. “No. Your answer is incorrect, actually” she said with a sigh and a tired shrug, working her jaw over the words while her fingers reached for her own pen that was spiked through her ponytail.

“The limit as x approaches zero... Of the natural log of one minus x… Then minus the sign of x over one… Minus the cosine squared of x…” she muttered under her breath, the softness of her voice little more than a gentle whisper. For a moment, there was an uptick at the corner of her mouth, the ghost of an impressed smile. Her wide, doe eyes narrowed as she worked through an internal rolodex of equations, pressing the nib of the pen to her lower lip - her brow furrowed.

The initiate exhaled with unmistakable disappointment, deflating like the very last, sad balloon at a child’s party.

She tilted the pad to his direction, and began drawing over his notes, the red ink creating lines over the paper that drowned out the grey pencil of his own. “When evaluating the limit as x approaches zero, it should look like this on the graph…” Kinsley’s slender fingers turned over the pen, an easy flick of her wrist to demonstrate her calculations - meanwhile, the Initiate seemed more disheartened with every level of her explanation.

“From the left your graph should appear to be reaching positive infinity, whereas on the right it is approaching negative infinity.” His eyes glazed over, watching Kinsley’s mouth make the shapes and speak the words he didn’t understand. Her words not crossing beyond that, so whatever she was trying to teach him, fell on deaf ears. His cheeks grew a hot pink in colour, and his hands fidgeted.

“The limit can not exist unless the graph is approaching the same point from both sides. Maybe try a table of values next time to solve this.” Kinsley handed the pad back to the boy, looking him up and down slowly - trying to remember his name. “Peter, isn’t it?” She asked, raising a brow. The boy may have been wrong, but he showed some promise, and she wasn’t entirely without respect for those who chose a scholars life.

“Paul, actually,” he said, nibbling on his lower lip. Last time she’d called him Percy, so this was... almost an improvement.

“Keep at it, anyway. Next time you won’t be so far wrong,” she added awkwardly in an attempt to reassure or encourage the boy. She gave another shrug of her shoulders again, turning her foot on the floor as she stooped to pick the boot up again. “Anyway. I have things to do, and so do you.”

---

Kinsley was busy watching Chowder make his way through the Prydwen, that she just about missed a gentleman walking in her direction. An older gentleman, perhaps only two or three years older than her. A fellow Scribe, only one of those technologically adept ones.

He was absolutely conventionally attractive. A nice haircut, a well groomed beard. In novels, tall, dark, and handsome was an attractive trope - and frequently used for heroes and anti-heroes alike. Women swooned over such idealised fantasies. And so, when he stopped Kinsley in her tracks, her reaction was a quirked brow, and to lean out of the space - (out of her own space), that he had intruded.

“Dr. Kinsley,” he said, with a warm and welcoming smile. A perfectly straight and gleaming smile. His hands were held out in a friendly gesture. Kinsley took a step back, and Chowder took a seat again since his master was momentarily occupied.

She eyed him up and down suspiciously, “yes…?” she asked unimpressively, attempting to side step past him - a drool covered boot in one hand, and her pen in the other. She was grateful she was not empty handed.

He eyed her up and down too, sure — she was shabby, her hair was… less than groomed. But she was by no means ugly. She had good teeth too, nice cheekbones, decent enough lips that he would have liked to see in a smile, but her aloof character was the real draw...

“You know, I’ve seen you around so often, yet we’ve never really had a conversation…” His voice came out smooth, flirtatious. Overly so, in fact. “There is so much more to the Prydwen—“

“Prud-when,” Kinsley interrupted by raising a finger in front of his face, when he moved his mouth as if to laugh, she remained serious - and his smile quickly dropped. “Contrary to what just about everyone else here says. It’s Prud-when. A Welsh word,” she blinked, nose twitching. “If you were to study up on your Arthurian history a little more, then you’d know that. We have to preserve cultures, you know. We can’t just make things up willy nilly…”

He scoffed, unsure of how to add to that, or what could be added. All he could do was step aside for the eccentric doctor to make her way past - in the direction she was keen to go. He’d simply been a blockade and nothing more.

---

Eventually Chowder led her to where he wanted her to be. The Mess Hall. Unlike her quiet clinic, it was as crowded and loud as it always was, and instead of working up the energy to speak to anyone, she gave a judgemental glance to Chowder. “The onus is on you to find the owner of this, dog.” Kinsley slipped down to her knees to hold the boot in front of his nose. As if he knew exactly what she wanted, the heeler took a good, healthy sniff. After that, he signalled his presence with a bark and trotted off, his head and tail held high in a smug fashion while he weaved around the crew that he passed. For the most part, he was a recognisable figure - and the crew knew him well.

Kinsley rolled her eyes as she watched him find his victim, stopping at a table, alerting a young woman to his presence — nudging her with his nose in the side, his big brown eyes inviting, and his smile even more so.

R E D U X .// 2047 //.

23/05/2047
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Evening

---

Everything that Addison did in the days following the meeting was to prepare for the trip to New Mexico. She'd lost contact with the Biomancer on the 21st - too much for him to handle maybe? Maybe he really just wanted to be sure that Hex was dead. The answer could have been anything. Tensions between the heroes that had remained had not gone unnoticed by the Agent, and she'd taken to keeping Hex's journal as close to her chest as she could - referring to his notes and records of them all.

The notes said a lot. If there was anyone that Addison was keeping a close eye on, it was Stardust - she had seemed the most volatile at the meeting, but that said - she was a damn good hero, and it wasn't that she couldn't be trusted, just that the woman was more powerful than a woman should be. Truthfully, Addison respected her a lot, but they had a mission. Hell, the Agent was keeping an electronic dossier of her own on the team. She had to - this was Supers getting back together for the first time in years. She was responsible for that - if all hell should break loose, she needed to know why.

The meeting had ended with the agreement to work together, and it was a shaky agreement at best, as evidenced by Biomancer's departure. At any minute, any of them could decide that something else was worth their time.

That's why she chose Albuquerque.

It made sense, of course, to head that way off the bat. It was his last known destination - and all of the clues that Addison had, and with all of the resources at her disposal, she had tracked the man's location to the desert via coordinates left in his journal. "of fucking course," she cursed, moving across the sand in her vehicle. She had paged the team the coordinates, and she hoped they'd meet her there in a timely manner - unlike the first meeting. Being out in the sprawling open desert left her with a pit of anxiety too. What would actually stop them fighting with each other here should tensions rise again? She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, chastising herself for not having a little more trust in them.

It was easier said than done. She was the powerless one, after all.

Which of them would be most likely to kill her and take Hex's files? ET? Probably not. He seemed too good of a man to kill a defenceless woman for something like that. It seemed out of the style of Avant-Garde to try it too. He had been so friendly - or was she confusing simple politeness for friendliness? The Tower would literally manage to crush her if she allowed it. Addison wondered if the sister would be here, Beacon.

The gothic pallor of Spellbound, and her history was perhaps the most interesting of all. In Addison's eyes, it was Spellbound who was the wild card.

Once again, she shook her head - taking to slamming a fist on the wheel to stop thinking that way. If she was having doubts, they were bound to pick it up - and so she let her eyes wander the desert, the glowing orange horizon as the sun dipped behind the monolithic rocks. She'd never been here, and so she wanted to set as much of the beautiful scenery to memory.

After some time, Addison arrived at the coordinates. Exiting the vehicle, she brought her equipment with her - including a geo-scanner that she'd swiped from the department. This whole thing was off the books, she'd taken the damn nerve to simply call in sick, not that they gave a shit - they weren't going to follow this up.

The rocky ground crunched underfoot, her heavy boots pressing them back into the sand. She wore a simple armour that pinched at the contours of her body well in a deep blue shade. A belt around her waist had the holster for her pistol. Her hands were gloved and her thick brunette locks slicked into a high ponytail. For all intents and purposes, Addison looked the part of a superhero, if someone were looking at her from a distance. Something about form-fitting spandex seemed to sing Super.

She flicked the lens of her visor over her left eye and sighed. They weren't here yet, so she took the time to check the area. There would be hell to pay if these coordinates were a dud - because with her human eyes she could see only an ancient looking rock formation and nothing else. Unless Hex liked pitching a tent to look at the stars, there was nothing here to show for his frequent visits.

Addison pinched at the arm of the visor, turning a switch to power up her scanner...

Fallout: Rust and Steel

Dr. Kinsley, Harper

Name: Dr. Harper Diane Kinsley

Date of Birth: 13-07-2241 (43 years old)

Sex: Female

Appearance:

Dr. Kinsley stands at an average height of 5’4 with a thin and borderline scrawny build. Her skin is pale, and not in an attractive porcelain way, more that the colour has been drained from her - through lack of sleep, and poor nutrition, constant worry and a general feeling of indifference to really take care of herself. Despite all of this, she is no old looking woman, quite the opposite in fact - her good and healthy methods earlier in life have left her skin in good shape and she has only a few wrinkles - most prominently around her eyes. At first glance, it is easy to pass Harper off as having always looked dishevelled, but once a person looks hard enough, they can see that a beautiful and happy woman once lived inside of the cracked shell.

The clues are in the way she does sincerely smile - it’s the smile that used to light up a family home, and her laughter was the music. Her body was once more womanly; she carried and bore a daughter, gave life and love in abundance, but such selflessness has been stripped away, taking with it streaks of auburn from her hair - leaving behind framing strands of grey. Her hair falls to the middle of her back in loose waves with a side swept fringe.

Whatever authority and confidence that Harper once spoke with, like much of the rest of her attributes, has withered. She is now incredibly soft spoken, speaking quietly most of the time. One would be a fool to think that she is soft at heart, however, for what her voice lacks, her eyes make way for. Her blue, wide eyes can very quickly command the energy that does not project in her voice - and many have learned this the hard way, that fire can indeed take hold of water.

Chowder

---

Place of Birth: New California Republic

Path: Scribe

Rank: Senior Scribe

Equipment:
Chowder
Clothing
Weapons
Roll of Surgical Tools (Inside satchel)
First Aid Kit (Inside satchel)
Bottles of Sterilising Equipment (Inside satchel)
Mysterious Vial

Notable Talents:
Medical Hero

For all intents and purposes, and quirks aside, Dr. Kinsley is in fact an incredible doctor. Having been taught in human biology from a young age. She was something of a prodigy even as a trainee in a New California clinic where she spent her twenties practicing, before travelling out with her husband and the Followers of the Apocalypse. She took her clinical mind to the outside world, to real and instant trauma. She learned quick and fast during that time, before returning to her neurological research. It’s safe to say that in Dr. Kinsley’s hands, you’ve little to worry about.

Everyday I’m Puzzlin’

She has an incredibly logical mind, and is a fantastic problem solver. She enjoys intellectual puzzles, particularly linguistic or mathematical ones. Solving puzzles is one of the few things she presently takes joy in, and her skills translate beyond being able to figure out the answer to a riddle - but in the real world too. She can make logical decisions with ease, without being too tangled up in emotional aspects. She excels in analysing connections, linking together seemingly unrelated factors in a way that might confuse someone else.

Smart Cookie

Dr. Kinsley has a vast knowledge of the world around her - perhaps a combination of her age and experience, and her naturally quick mind for absorbing information. She is well versed in history and politics, in geography and how the land physically works, of animal species, and of course, human biology. She’s smart as a tack, and she isn’t afraid to let people know this.

Laughable Failings:
Unfiltered Honesty

Harper says what she thinks with ease. She doesn't sugar coat her words, and she's not the kind of person you'd go crying to, unless you wanted brutal honesty. None of it comes from malice, just from her own pit of hopelessness. The lack of filter slips over into what appears to be a lack of interest in others personal lives.

Hard of Hearing

Got too close to a gun firing off once, and it’s left her a little hard of hearing on her left side - not to mention the near constant ringing of tinnitus plaguing her. Both of these things tend to tick away at her patience. This is a more recent ailment she’s been afflicted with since travelling with the Brotherhood of Steel. People have learned to speak up when talking to her, and to understand that she’s not the best courier of messages… They often tend to change on their way.

Insomniac

Dr. Kinsley’s mind is too active, too turned over with pain to ever really allow her to sleep fully. She gets a few hours here and there, but for the most part, she tosses and turns, or simply gives up and goes for light night adventures. Usually pacing back and forth, relaxing in a chair, or completing even more puzzles. She doesn’t really seem to care that she sleeps in short bursts. Her pacing and chuntering late at night might well bother others, however.

Personality:
A natural intellectual, her way of thinking offers a lot of insight into the world around her, but for the most part, Dr. Kinsley sees that world as an intrusion to her innermost thoughts. She is guilty of absent-mindedness when her interest is captured, usually by a puzzle of some kind, she can forget where she is entirely to the point of rudeness. She is private, withdrawn, and shy and so very little is known of her, just that she is good at what she does and does it without much of a fuss.

What is known, however, is that she is direct in her communication, and does not mince her words. It is not too much of a secret that Dr. Kinsley sees the world as meaningless, her eyes are often glazed over with gloom and that transcends in her social interactions. When one is so indifferent to the world around them, it can be liberating in that one can say what they like without fear of consequence. It is less appealing to those around her, even if in a way, her downhearted comments and topics of conversation are somewhat endearing.

Her honesty can also be refreshing, between the lines of melancholy, there is often genuinely helpful nuggets of wisdom that most certainly come from the warmth that she does have left, particularly for those who make an effort to get to know her beyond her outward quirks.

Life isn’t all a spiral of darkness, and there are brief moments where Dr. Kinsley will light up with joy, and smile from her heart. In those moments, colour seems to momentarily return and she possesses a maternal grace that hasn’t completely left her. But yes, those moments are fleeting and rare — but the longer she spends with people, being useful, the more such moments beat back the darkness.

Short Background:

First Day - 2260

Ummm, hello! It’s me, Harper Howard, and today is my first day practicing medicine!

Really practicing. Not just reading books, but actually being amongst patients and senior doctors. I wanted to start this diary… To keep, and remember everything. To record the things that I do and learn, things that I achieve. To keep and preserve it. Preservation is important, after all.

But I don’t know. It feels silly talking to myself - or to you, this thing… Maybe if you’re someone listening to this in the future, it's because I was a famed surgeon! That I saved so many lives - maybe this is used in your school. If that’s the case… Good luck doctors of tomorrow! Or, maybe in the future these recordings are just… stashed in a drawer somewhere - gathering dust… Oh my. I can’t really say, but to the topic at hand…

It’s my first day in the clinic. Dad got me my tools for the occasion. They’re so proud, Mom and Dad. I hope they stay proud.

Oh, please don’t let someone die on me on my first day…

Alex - 2264

I met someone today.

His name is Alex.

He’s another Doctor, but he travels with the Followers of the Apocalypse. I’ve heard of them, I’ve seen them occasionally but not this… close up I suppose. Anyway, Alex… He came to the clinic and we talked a little, he didn’t stay for long but he left me with a crossword for some reason. Some strange puzzle. It was ridiculously easy to complete.

I actually finished it so quickly that I had time to draw a puzzle of my own to give him. That’s if he comes back.

If he wants to come back, I mean. Why would he do that though it’s not like he showed any signs of liking me or anything… Not that I like him! I’m putting it on record that I don’t like him.

I don’t like him.

In news more relevant to my recordings, I successfully took several skin grafts for a patient today. My stitches are perfect, and Dr. Wilson said that I can start looking to an area of research I’d like to do; of course I want to look at the spine, the nervous system. It’s ambitious, but there’s so much opportunity there. We know so very little about neurology, really. There’s… still discoveries to be made.

I know it.

Unknown - 2265

I am now Mrs. Harper Kinsley…

Flower Arrangement - 2269

I had a death today.

I got too arrogant that it hadn’t happened until now. I was flying on wings of hubris and I messed up. Alex told me that these things happen. But the very reason I’m doing this is so that people don’t have to die. I do this because I want to save people. If I can’t, then what is the point?

Still, there’s so much to be learned. Her tumour… It was beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. Spread across her frontal lobe like a flower arrangement. Advanced astrocytoma to a glioblastoma. One of the worst I’ve seen, but I just… I had to try.

I had to. She had months, if that. Her tumour had reached the optic chiasm and was affecting her vision.

I thought I could remove it. I’d drawn it, dreamt it. Everything I looked at was that damned tumour. I thought to just dismantle it. Several approaches all at once, but I was wrong. It was impossible.

Magnificent - 2270

Good morning world! Whoever is listening to this recording, you're in for something amazing today! You might be wondering who this handsome sounding man is, that’s right - it’s Dr. Alex Kinsley, husband of Dr. Harper Kinsley…

No recording from my wife today - but I’m watching her right now as she finishes up in surgery. She’s removing a hemangioblastoma, initially we thought she would have to cut the spinal cord to paralyse the patient and cut off its blood supply… But not my wife.

We’re approaching hour seventeen and she’s still going.

My magnificent wife is going to make a man walk again.

Expecting - 2271

I’m halfway through my pregnancy now. I’ve been so emotional, this last month, it’s a beautiful gift. I feel so strong and powerful creating this life, this perfect life inside of me. I haven’t stopped working - and of course people advised against it, but having this miracle inside me just gives me more drive. I want to make a safe world for my child, I want to discover everything there is to discover. I don’t have time to rest, and as always, Alex is on my side.

I caught him the other day singing a lullaby, practicing a song for our baby.

I feel so lucky. Even in this world of nothing, of horrors… I can just look at Alex, think of what we’ve achieved, the lives we’ve saved… How could that world be so bad?

We’re going to name a girl after my mother. Victoria. But if we have a boy, then after Alex’s father, Joseph.

I feel like she's a girl though. I just... With every kick she feels like my Victoria. Like a best friend just waiting to be brought into the world. I already love her so much, and I didn’t think it was possible to be so full of love - to the brim of my cup and over, to a puddle at my feet that is warm and real and right there.

I always thought my destiny was to be a doctor, a surgeon - to save lives but maybe being a mother is my destiny… Creating this life. Or you know, it can always be both. Destiny is limitless. Opportunities are endless.

Wow, I told you I was emotional...

Man’s Best Friend - 2273

We got a dog.

Or should I say, Alex and Victoria got a dog. For some reason, the dog doesn’t seem to like me as much as he likes Alex and Victoria. We’ve had him for eight months now, and he just destroys all of my things— all of them! And yet none of theirs. I think I’m just not really a dog person, but that’s okay because Victoria is.

The two are inseparable. They’re best friends. Chowder sleeps at the bottom of her bed, and the first thing she ever wants is her puppy, and the last thing she wants at night is her puppy. Gone are the days when she just wanted to be held by her mother. Now she just wants to hold her dog.

Oh, and I know, I know. It’s a dumb name, but that’s for some reason, what Miss Victoria picked to name him and… Honestly? He suits it.

He’s a good dog, I’m glad that they have each other.

Sick - 2281

Alex and Victoria are sick.

They’re really sick, actually. They’d been out together and they came back sick. Temperatures are way down. They’re malaised, coughing and wheezing. Occasional bleeding from the face - notably around their gums. The blood instantly coagulates. Their eyes are red, they’re in and out of consciousness.

I thought it was pneumonia. But the bleeding, and then the rashes. It’s more than pneumonia. They’re confused, slurring. I don’t have the supplies out here to help them, and I don’t think I have time to collect anything — I don’t even know what this is.

Parasitic pneumonia? Uniquely infects people of their blood type, because I’m fine, and I’ve been exposed to them for hours.

Why don’t I know what to do? Why can’t I figure this out?

-

-

I spent my career studying tumours. Fucking tumours. I should have been studying disease, haematology - God, anything but fucking tumours. Studying disease would have been smart. I just thought I was special, that it was my purpose to personally cut fucking tumours out of peoples bodies.

I wanted to be special. I should have been doing something important. I thought I knew everything… If I’d studied disease then I could figure this out. What if I can’t save them?

What if I can’t protect our little girl?

Alex would know how to fix this.

Unknown - 2281

I buried my baby today. Next to her Father.

She’s gone, she… She just didn’t wake up.

I fell asleep and when I woke up... She was gone.

I buried my little girl.

God damn it Chowder, shut the fuck up!

Promise - 2281

I’m here.

Just me and Chowder now. I can’t cry, because he cries louder.

His little girl is gone and I can’t explain to him that she’s not coming back. I can’t translate death into a concept that this dog can understand.

She was my little girl too.

I have to look at this damn dog everyday, knowing that he just wants her. All I want is her too. I got all this love, and nowhere to place it.

That’s grief. Grief is the love left over that has nowhere to go.

I have nowhere to go.

But I promised her I’d look after her dog.

I have nowhere to go until he’s gone.

He has to go back to them before I can.

The End - 2282

This is my last entry.

I used to think these recordings were important. Turns out this entire tape is just a mausoleum.

I helped out some kid with the Brotherhood of Steel today. Patched him up and got him on his feet. Chowder seemed to like him. His group asked if I wanted to travel with them. Helping someone felt good, I suppose.

They don’t seem to mind the dog, or that I look like shit. They just need a scalpel, and I have one.

Maybe travelling with this faction will get Chowder in some action and wear him out for his sleep.

And then I get to follow him, back to them.

One last good deed to say goodbye.

Sum up your week in roleplaying in just 3 words

What the frick

Fallout: Rust and Steel

For your consideration;

Dr. Kinsley, Harper

Name: Dr. Harper Diane Kinsley

Date of Birth: 13-07-2241 (43 years old)

Sex: Female

Appearance:

Dr. Kinsley stands at an average height of 5’4 with a thin and borderline scrawny build. Her skin is pale, and not in an attractive porcelain way, more that the colour has been drained from her - through lack of sleep, and poor nutrition, constant worry and a general feeling of indifference to really take care of herself. Despite all of this, she is no old looking woman, quite the opposite in fact - her good and healthy methods earlier in life have left her skin in good shape and she has only a few wrinkles - most prominently around her eyes. At first glance, it is easy to pass Harper off as having always looked dishevelled, but once a person looks hard enough, they can see that a beautiful and happy woman once lived inside of the cracked shell.

The clues are in the way she does sincerely smile - it’s the smile that used to light up a family home, and her laughter was the music. Her body was once more womanly; she carried and bore a daughter, gave life and love in abundance, but such selflessness has been stripped away, taking with it streaks of auburn from her hair - leaving behind framing strands of grey. Her hair falls to the middle of her back in loose waves with a side swept fringe.

Whatever authority and confidence that Harper once spoke with, like much of the rest of her attributes, has withered. She is now incredibly soft spoken, speaking quietly most of the time. One would be a fool to think that she is soft at heart, however, for what her voice lacks, her eyes make way for. Her blue, wide eyes can very quickly command the energy that does not project in her voice - and many have learned this the hard way, that fire can indeed take hold of water.

---

Place of Birth: New California Republic

Path: Scribe

Rank: Scribe

Equipment:
Chowder
Clothing
Weapons
Roll of Surgical Tools (Inside satchel)
First Aid Kit (Inside satchel)
Bottles of Sterilising Equipment (Inside satchel)
Mysterious Vial

Notable Talents:
Medical Hero

For all intents and purposes, and quirks aside, Dr. Kinsley is in fact an incredible doctor. Having been taught in human biology from a young age. She was something of a prodigy even as a trainee in a New California clinic where she spent her twenties practicing, before travelling out with her husband and the Followers of the Apocalypse. She took her clinical mind to the outside world, to real and instant trauma. She learned quick and fast during that time, before returning to her neurological research. It’s safe to say that in Dr. Kinsley’s hands, you’ve little to worry about.

Everyday I’m Puzzlin’

She has an incredibly logical mind, and is a fantastic problem solver. She enjoys intellectual puzzles, particularly linguistic or mathematical ones. Solving puzzles is one of the few things she presently takes joy in, and her skills translate beyond being able to figure out the answer to a riddle - but in the real world too. She can make logical decisions with ease, without being too tangled up in emotional aspects. She excels in analysing connections, linking together seemingly unrelated factors in a way that might confuse someone else.

Smart Cookie

Dr. Kinsley has a vast knowledge of the world around her - perhaps a combination of her age and experience, and her naturally quick mind for absorbing information. She is well versed in history and politics, in geography and how the land physically works, of animal species, and of course, human biology. She’s smart as a tack, and she isn’t afraid to let people know this.

Laughable Failings:
Unfiltered Honesty

Harper says what she thinks with ease. She doesn't sugar coat her words, and she's not the kind of person you'd go crying to, unless you wanted brutal honesty. None of it comes from malice, just from her own pit of hopelessness. The lack of filter slips over into what appears to be a lack of interest in others personal lives.

Hard of Hearing

Got too close to a gun firing off once, and it’s left her a little hard of hearing on her left side - not to mention the near constant ringing of tinnitus plaguing her. Both of these things tend to tick away at her patience. This is a more recent ailment she’s been afflicted with since travelling with the Brotherhood of Steel. People have learned to speak up when talking to her, and to understand that she’s not the best courier of messages… They often tend to change on their way.

Insomniac

Dr. Kinsley’s mind is too active, too turned over with pain to ever really allow her to sleep fully. She gets a few hours here and there, but for the most part, she tosses and turns, or simply gives up and goes for light night adventures. Usually pacing back and forth, relaxing in a chair, or completing even more puzzles. She doesn’t really seem to care that she sleeps in short bursts. Her pacing and chuntering late at night might well bother others, however.

Personality:
A natural intellectual, her way of thinking offers a lot of insight into the world around her, but for the most part, Dr. Kinsley sees that world as an intrusion to her innermost thoughts. She is guilty of absent-mindedness when her interest is captured, usually by a puzzle of some kind, she can forget where she is entirely to the point of rudeness. She is private, withdrawn, and shy and so very little is known of her, just that she is good at what she does and does it without much of a fuss.

What is known, however, is that she is direct in her communication, and does not mince her words. It is not too much of a secret that Dr. Kinsley sees the world as meaningless, her eyes are often glazed over with gloom and that transcends in her social interactions. When one is so indifferent to the world around them, it can be liberating in that one can say what they like without fear of consequence. It is less appealing to those around her, even if in a way, her downhearted comments and topics of conversation are somewhat endearing.

Her honesty can also be refreshing, between the lines of melancholy, there is often genuinely helpful nuggets of wisdom that most certainly come from the warmth that she does have left, particularly for those who make an effort to get to know her beyond her outward quirks.

Life isn’t all a spiral of darkness, and there are brief moments where Dr. Kinsley will light up with joy, and smile from her heart. In those moments, colour seems to momentarily return and she possesses a maternal grace that hasn’t completely left her. But yes, those moments are fleeting and rare — but the longer she spends with people, being useful, the more such moments beat back the darkness.

Short Background:

First Day - 2260

Ummm, hello! It’s me, Harper Howard, and today is my first day practicing medicine!

Really practicing. Not just reading books, but actually being amongst patients and senior doctors. I wanted to start this diary… To keep, and remember everything. To record the things that I do and learn, things that I achieve. To keep and preserve it. Preservation is important, after all.

But I don’t know. It feels silly talking to myself - or to you, this thing… Maybe if you’re someone listening to this in the future, it's because I was a famed surgeon! That I saved so many lives - maybe this is used in your school. If that’s the case… Good luck doctors of tomorrow! Or, maybe in the future these recordings are just… stashed in a drawer somewhere - gathering dust… Oh my. I can’t really say, but to the topic at hand…

It’s my first day in the clinic. Dad got me my tools for the occasion. They’re so proud, Mom and Dad. I hope they stay proud.

Oh, please don’t let someone die on me on my first day…

Alex - 2264

I met someone today.

His name is Alex.

He’s another Doctor, but he travels with the Followers of the Apocalypse. I’ve heard of them, I’ve seen them occasionally but not this… close up I suppose. Anyway, Alex… He came to the clinic and we talked a little, he didn’t stay for long but he left me with a crossword for some reason. Some strange puzzle. It was ridiculously easy to complete.

I actually finished it so quickly that I had time to draw a puzzle of my own to give him. That’s if he comes back.

If he wants to come back, I mean. Why would he do that though it’s not like he showed any signs of liking me or anything… Not that I like him! I’m putting it on record that I don’t like him.

I don’t like him.

In news more relevant to my recordings, I successfully took several skin grafts for a patient today. My stitches are perfect, and Dr. Wilson said that I can start looking to an area of research I’d like to do; of course I want to look at the spine, the nervous system. It’s ambitious, but there’s so much opportunity there. We know so very little about neurology, really. There’s… still discoveries to be made.

I know it.

Unknown - 2265

I am now Mrs. Harper Kinsley…

Flower Arrangement - 2269

I had a death today.

I got too arrogant that it hadn’t happened until now. I was flying on wings of hubris and I messed up. Alex told me that these things happen. But the very reason I’m doing this is so that people don’t have to die. I do this because I want to save people. If I can’t, then what is the point?

Still, there’s so much to be learned. Her tumour… It was beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. Spread across her frontal lobe like a flower arrangement. Advanced astrocytoma to a glioblastoma. One of the worst I’ve seen, but I just… I had to try.

I had to. She had months, if that. Her tumour had reached the optic chiasm and was affecting her vision.

I thought I could remove it. I’d drawn it, dreamt it. Everything I looked at was that damned tumour. I thought to just dismantle it. Several approaches all at once, but I was wrong. It was impossible.

Magnificent - 2270

Good morning world! Whoever is listening to this recording, you're in for something amazing today! You might be wondering who this handsome sounding man is, that’s right - it’s Dr. Alex Kinsley, husband of Dr. Harper Kinsley…

No recording from my wife today - but I’m watching her right now as she finishes up in surgery. She’s removing a hemangioblastoma, initially we thought she would have to cut the spinal cord to paralyse the patient and cut off its blood supply… But not my wife.

We’re approaching hour seventeen and she’s still going.

My magnificent wife is going to make a man walk again.

Expecting - 2271

I’m halfway through my pregnancy now. I’ve been so emotional, this last month, it’s a beautiful gift. I feel so strong and powerful creating this life, this perfect life inside of me. I haven’t stopped working - and of course people advised against it, but having this miracle inside me just gives me more drive. I want to make a safe world for my child, I want to discover everything there is to discover. I don’t have time to rest, and as always, Alex is on my side.

I caught him the other day singing a lullaby, practicing a song for our baby.

I feel so lucky. Even in this world of nothing, of horrors… I can just look at Alex, think of what we’ve achieved, the lives we’ve saved… How could that world be so bad?

We’re going to name a girl after my mother. Victoria. But if we have a boy, then after Alex’s father, Joseph.

I feel like she's a girl though. I just... With every kick she feels like my Victoria. Like a best friend just waiting to be brought into the world. I already love her so much, and I didn’t think it was possible to be so full of love - to the brim of my cup and over, to a puddle at my feet that is warm and real and right there.

I always thought my destiny was to be a doctor, a surgeon - to save lives but maybe being a mother is my destiny… Creating this life. Or you know, it can always be both. Destiny is limitless. Opportunities are endless.

Wow, I told you I was emotional...

Man’s Best Friend - 2273

We got a dog.

Or should I say, Alex and Victoria got a dog. For some reason, the dog doesn’t seem to like me as much as he likes Alex and Victoria. We’ve had him for eight months now, and he just destroys all of my things— all of them! And yet none of theirs. I think I’m just not really a dog person, but that’s okay because Victoria is.

The two are inseparable. They’re best friends. Chowder sleeps at the bottom of her bed, and the first thing she ever wants is her puppy, and the last thing she wants at night is her puppy. Gone are the days when she just wanted to be held by her mother. Now she just wants to hold her dog.

Oh, and I know, I know. It’s a dumb name, but that’s for some reason, what Miss Victoria picked to name him and… Honestly? He suits it.

He’s a good dog, I’m glad that they have each other.

Sick - 2281

Alex and Victoria are sick.

They’re really sick, actually. They’d been out together and they came back sick. Temperatures are way down. They’re malaised, coughing and wheezing. Occasional bleeding from the face - notably around their gums. The blood instantly coagulates. Their eyes are red, they’re in and out of consciousness.

I thought it was pneumonia. But the bleeding, and then the rashes. It’s more than pneumonia. They’re confused, slurring. I don’t have the supplies out here to help them, and I don’t think I have time to collect anything — I don’t even know what this is.

Parasitic pneumonia? Uniquely infects people of their blood type, because I’m fine, and I’ve been exposed to them for hours.

Why don’t I know what to do? Why can’t I figure this out?

-

-

I spent my career studying tumours. Fucking tumours. I should have been studying disease, haematology - God, anything but fucking tumours. Studying disease would have been smart. I just thought I was special, that it was my purpose to personally cut fucking tumours out of peoples bodies.

I wanted to be special. I should have been doing something important. I thought I knew everything… If I’d studied disease then I could figure this out. What if I can’t save them?

What if I can’t protect our little girl?

Alex would know how to fix this.

Unknown - 2281

I buried my baby today. Next to her Father.

She’s gone, she… She just didn’t wake up.

I fell asleep and when I woke up... She was gone.

I buried my little girl.

God damn it Chowder, shut the fuck up!

Promise - 2281

I’m here.

Just me and Chowder now. I can’t cry, because he cries louder.

His little girl is gone and I can’t explain to him that she’s not coming back. I can’t translate death into a concept that this dog can understand.

She was my little girl too.

I have to look at this damn dog everyday, knowing that he just wants her. All I want is her too. I got all this love, and nowhere to place it.

That’s grief. Grief is the love left over that has nowhere to go.

I have nowhere to go.

But I promised her I’d look after her dog.

I have nowhere to go until he’s gone.

He has to go back to them before I can.

The End - 2282

This is my last entry.

I used to think these recordings were important. Turns out this entire tape is just a mausoleum.

I helped out some kid with the Brotherhood of Steel today. Patched him up and got him on his feet. Chowder seemed to like him. His group asked if I wanted to travel with them. Helping someone felt good, I suppose.

They don’t seem to mind the dog, or that I look like shit. They just need a scalpel, and I have one.

Maybe travelling with this faction will get Chowder in some action and wear him out for his sleep.

And then I get to follow him, back to them.

One last good deed to say goodbye.