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Taking Raiders to School; Ryan Hawkins attempts to infiltrate a raider camp
Topic Started: Mar 27 2018, 02:39 PM (81 Views)
Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
Taking Raiders to School


Tonight, Hawkins had a simple mission. Infiltrate a raider fortress, and neutralize them.

Well okay, “fortress” was a bit much. Really it was just an old pre-war elementary school where a group of small-time raiders (so small-time they apparently didn’t even have a name) had set up shop. Hawkins had heard about it from a caravan he was piggybacking on while heading to Bucket Town. The raiders had been harassing trade caravans along the route, and killed three caravaners already.

It was fairly easy to find the school, it was one of the few pre-war buildings in the area still standing. From there, Hawkins scouted and observed the place for two days, watching any patrols, looking for entry points from a safe distance. The front entrance was well guarded, but there was a back way through the bus port that only had one guard at any given time. Based on his observations, he guessed the raiders had made a classic mistake: they picked a large building to occupy but had too few people to properly guard and patrol it. From how often he saw the same people over and over again, he estimated there were just over a dozen of them all-together, in a school meant to hold over five hundred students.

In other words, nothing he couldn’t handle if he was careful.

As the moon held its place in the sky, Hawkins decided that he had waited long enough. He had tied his blue bandana around his left eye during the day so that he’d have pretty decent night vision for this mission. A party of three raiders had left an hour ago, presumably to watch for another caravan that might be travelling at night, and anyone inside who was going to be asleep already was.

It was time to begin.
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
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Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
He crept up quietly to the guard at the bus port, using the trees that had surrounded the school’s northern approach for cover. The tall, muscular guard was sitting in a chair too small for her, with only a burning barrel providing light to the whole area. Hawkins had to admit, the sight of a grown woman with a mohawk sitting awkwardly in a colorful plastic chair meant for children half her size was actually kind of funny.

Hawkins stepped carefully and lightly, trying his best not to crunch any leaves under his gecko-skinned boots. It was easier said than done, a single crunch or crackle could give him away, but it was nothing the experienced hunter didn’t know how to do. Eventually, he made it out of the tree line and was at the sidewalk that in the old days would have taken the students from the buses to the school proper. And based on the guard’s movements, and the fact she was still looking off into the distance, she hadn’t noticed the hunter.

Hawkins crept closer, using sneaking techniques that had years of hunting had etched permanently into his brain. He lowered his body for a better center of balance, feet shoulder-width apart, breathed slowly and calmly through his nose, and each step started on his toes and balls of his foot before shifting to his heel. It was slow, but it would worked, hopefully.

Still, he clutched his prized rifle just in case.

The pipe rifle Hawkins had was the one he forged when he was 16, and it was easily the best weapon he had ever made, he’d dare say even in the top 1% of all pipe rifles out there. And it better have been; he spent almost a month designing it before even touching any of the tools in his dad’s forge to make it. The rifle actually looked almost identical to a pre-war bolt-action rifle, with only a few, very minor imperfections to tell the trained eye that it was handmade. It used 10mm rounds rather than the usual .32 ACP (.32 ACP was semi-rimmed and thus the more popular choice as rimmed rounds were easier to extract from a usually break action gun) for its greater stopping power, and the well-rifled barrel was longer than usual to make it suitable for long range sniping. It had well-aligned iron sights, and the stock was well made.

Now to fit the rimless 10mm rounds, the pipe rifle was designed by necessity to be bolt-action rather than break action, and though it currently only had a single-shot chamber and no magazine, it could easily be given the latter (Hawkins wanted to include it when he first built it, but he didn’t have the parts at the time to make a 10mm magazine that small). He had even done his best to design it so the door would be open for further customization, such as the attachment of optics and suppressors.

So it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he was damn proud of his creation. So proud, in fact, that he surrendered to an age-old tradition and gave it a name, which he had carved into the left side of the stock: “Talon”.

Anyway, once he was around twenty feet from the guard, Hawkins decided he just had to get a little closer. Slowly and silently moving Talon to his back, he pulled a throwing knife from the pouch strapped to his thigh, and got it ready to throw.

He crept closer until he was a dozen feet from the guard, then gripped the throwing knife by the grip before tossing it. It did a full spin once, then twice, then finally... impact. The blade went right into the side of the raider’s skull. She let out a sharp gasp, then went slack, still seated in her chair, half of the 9-inch long throwing knife sticking right out of her head.

‘Perfect.’ Hawkins thought to himself.

Contrary to popular belief, you could control if a knife was going to land in its target blade first or hilt first. It was all in the technique, and on how far you were throwing it. There were three types of knife throws: no-spin, half-spin and full-spin. At six feet and below, you could just throw the knife if you knew what you were doing; no spinning, it would just sail through the air. But for every three feet after that, you needed to add half a spin to increase the chances to hit, and that determined whether you would hold the knife by its blade or the grip.

No one was sounding an alarm or yelling, so Hawkins concluded that nobody had seen it. With caution, he went over to the dead raider, and pulled the bloodied knife out of the skull, careful to not unbalance the raider so that she’d fall right out of the chair. It looked somewhat inconspicuous . Sure, there was a trail of blood going down the raider’s right side, but the burning barrel was on her left, so nobody would see it unless they actually came out here to talk to her. They might notice the unnatural pose the woman was sitting in, but Hawkins didn’t want to waste anymore time than he needed to trying to move her into a more natural pose and still keep the body balanced, nor did he want to move it, thinking that an absent guard was more suspicious than a guard sitting in an unnatural pose.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice the growing puddle of blood on the ground that WAS being illuminated by the fire either.

Hawkins quickly moved away from the light of the fire, letting darkness surround him again, and made his way towards the door into the school. But even in the darkness, he could see that was made of metal and rusted all to hell. It looked like it would creak up a storm the moment he opened it.

‘So, not that way.’

Hawkins looked around, trying to find another way in. His two days of observing the place showed that this was one of only two ways inside, the other being the front entrance. The front was too exposed and had two guards on watch. And he really didn’t feel like going up against two raiders, especially when one at the front entrance was armed with a machine gun. Sure said machine gun was handmade, and looked like it would fall apart the moment the trigger was pulled, but he’d didn’t know for sure if it would and frankly he didn’t WANT to know.

Besides, one guard he could take out unnoticed no sweat, but two that were ten feet from each other and easily had each other in their fields of vision? That was a challenge.

To make things worse, he didn’t see a ladder onto the roof he could climb up while he was scouting around. On the bright side, he didn’t see anyone on the roof either so he had to assume there was no ladder to begin with, or maybe it broke over the course of two hundred years.

Okay, so front was out, back door was out, roof was out. That just left a window as his way inside.

He crept around outside, looking desperately for a window he could climb inside, one that didn’t have a lot of blinds down so he wouldn’t make a lot of noise when he entered. Every moment he spent here was another moment one of the other raiders could come outside and notice their buddy had a knife-shaped hole in her head.

After less than a minute, he found an entry point. The good news was there were no blinds at all that he would have to rattle by entering. The even better news was that it wasn’t locked. The bad news was that the reason Hawkins knew it wasn’t locked was because it was broken, with some jagged glass along the edges.

‘Welp, beggars can’t be choosers.’ Hawkins thought, letting out a soft sigh. He pulled his backpack off, and carefully moved it through the window, gently setting it down on a desk on the other side. Then, with great care, he moved himself through. The right hand holding Talon went through first, careful not to scratch the rifle on the glass, then went his right leg, his left hand gripping part of the window where he didn’t see any glass for support.

When said leg touched the floor, there was a crackle, shards of glass breaking underneath his foot. He froze, almost certain that any moment he’d hear someone raising the alarm. When he didn’t, he moved his body through the window. If the glass scraped his duster at all, he didn’t feel it. Finally, both left limbs came through. He tried to move his other leg away from the window to avoid any other glass, but another crackle told him he had failed.

And that’s when he heard a voice mumbling sharply. Shit!

No time to grab his bag. He just navigated his was through the classroom, his preserved night vision letting him pick up the desks and chairs that were chaotically scattered throughout the room. He reached the far side, the same side as the door and waited, his heart pounding through his chest, even though he kept his breathing calm. He had no doubt he could take this guy, but he’d still rather maintain stealth and face the raiders one at a time, thank you very much.

After what felt like an hour but was probably only ten seconds, the door swung open and a raider came through, a small gun Hawkins guessed was a pistol raised as he entered. He didn’t look to his left though, which Hawkins found strange, but he soon found out why.

“What is that?” The raider whispered, looking towards the window. Hawkins followed his eyes and realized that the silhouette of his backpack still on the desk was visible against the mild illumination the moon provided. The raider cautiously moved towards it, seemingly forgetting about the rest of the room. It was like the raider was a crow and the backpack was a shiny object.

Hawkins took the opportunity, moved his rifle back to strap, and pulled the kitchen knife - the kind used for cutting meat - from his boot. Using the same methods as with the guard outside, he moved up behind the guard undetected, and decided to use a different tactic.

He stood up and with his free hand grabbed the raider by the head, hand covering the mouth, pulling him until his back was against the hunter’s chest. The knife came around and pressed itself lightly against the raider’s throat. The raider’s inexperience showed itself as he dropped his gun to instead try and move to pull the hand around his mouth away, but the hands froze once the sharp steel touched his throat.

But Hawkins didn’t cut his throat. Not yet. He wanted information. Positions of guards and patrols. Where they might be keeping any surprises and traps.

“Bad news, pal.” The hunter said. “Tell me. How many guards do you have? And keep it quiet. Cooperate and you live.”
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
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Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
“Bad news, pal.” The hunter said. “Tell me. How many guards do you have? And keep it quiet. Cooperate and you live.”

The raider was squirming... no, shivering, but not in a way that told Hawkins he was trying to break free. More… excitement? Oh lord; there were so many things the hunter thought that could mean, and none of them good. Hawkins moved his hand and knife away just enough for the man to speak.

“I knew it!” The raider exclaimed in a hushed, but excited voice, “I knew there were still such things as ninjas!”

... Okay, not what he was expecting to hear. He tried to form the words to ask for what he wanted, but all that came out was: “...What?”

“Yeah,” the raider said, “You must be a ninja. How else could you sneak up on me like that?”

Hawkins was now lost. Wait, was he a ninja? Well, he was stealthy, but he didn’t consider himself a ninja. “Okay, but I’m more of a ...cowboy? I guess, but- ”

“Wait... really? So that makes you... a cowboy ninja! Holy shit, that’s awesome!”

“Okay look, all I want to know is-.”

“Wow! A real, live cowboy ninja.” The raider softly said in awe, a smile no doubt on his face despite the life-threatening situation.

Hawkins was getting irritated, and briefly pressed the knife slightly against the raider’s throat. Not enough to cut it, but enough to hopefully remind his captive of the danger he was in, “Listen, I’m going to kill you if you-.”

“Wow! Killed by a cowboy ninja...” The raider replied, paying no attention to the hunter’s actual demands, “Cool!”

Christ’s sake. Was this guy high?

“Listen, if you have to kill me,” the raider said, in a serious, almost pleading tone, “do it with your shuriken-spurs.”

“...”

Hawkins was going to go out on a limb here and say that yes, this guy was tripping balls. That or he was just stupid.

The hunter let out a sigh and muttered, “Never mind.”

After this conversation, though, he honestly would have felt like an asshole if he just killed the guy. So instead, he moved his left hand back over the raider’s mouth before proceeding to try and beat the guy unconscious with the butt of his knife. It was easier said than done and it took a few good hits, but eventually the raider was knocked out.

The cowboy-ninja gently put the raider’s body on the floor. He then closed the door, and searched the guy for any weapons. Turns out he had nothing except the semi-automatic and its holster, not even spare ammo for the thing.

Hawkins took the gun and holster with him. He had been meaning to get a sidearm for a while now, though in the darkness he couldn’t really tell what shape it was in or how much ammo was in the cylinder. For all he knew, the gun broke when it hit the floor.

But what if this guy woke up? What would he do then?

‘Probably call his friends, genius.’ Part of his brain said. Hawkins admitted that was a good point and thought about what to do, before an idea stuck him.

He searched through his backpack, using only the pale moonlight from outside as a light source, and pulled out a large box that took up half of its space. It was a pretty basic weapon maintenance kit. While he had some things in it that could honestly repair a weapon, most of it was meant for “in-field maintenance”, meaning it was more keeping it together until you could get to an actual smithy.

He opened the box and pulled out a roll of duct tape. After fiddling around trying to find the end, he got it and started getting to work: one strip around the guy’s mouth, and a long strip around his wrists. If the guy wanted to untie himself, he’d probably have to resort to cutting the tape around his wrists on the jagged glass.

Satisfied, the hunter suddenly realized how much time he was wasting trying to tie up a raider, and nearly facepalmed. How soon until this one and the dead man outside were discovered?

Still, sparing a life felt good. Even a raider’s. Maybe once he was done, he could take him as a prisoner. Turn him over to the authorities in Copperton. Yeah, that sounded good.

He had to move quickly. He softly opened the door from the classroom, stepped into the hallway, and proceeded with the plan.
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
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Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
If the plan included stumbling around a large school, looking for targets, Hawkins would say he was succeeding.

It’s not that the place was a maze. On the contrary, it was pretty straightforward. It was just that it was so large. At the very least, he was getting a good mental map of the place.

And he was right about his hunch. The raider gang was so small they couldn’t cover such a large building. He hadn’t run into any other troublemakers when he checked several classrooms, and the library (he wondered if the raiders could even read the few that probably weren’t ashes).

Though, he had found a room where two raiders were sleeping, a lantern on a desk that was turned into a nightstand being the only light in the room. Their unarmed state made him consider leaving them be or tying them up, but then he considered the consequences of letting them live. His goal was to neutralize the raiders, and while he could escort that one raider as a prisoner, he doubted he could do the same with three.

More than likely, they figure out some way to break free and get him. Talon, as good as it was, only had one shot, and he still wasn’t sure about the state of the revolver. They’d probably overpower him somehow, take his knife, free themselves, and kill him, maybe even in that order. And then they’d probably go on to either join some other raider group and continue to prey on innocent people.

So he slit their throats while they slept. At the very least, they showed no indication that they even knew what was happening. They died peacefully.

He shook his head. No time for remorse right now. Later. He left the room, closed the door and moved on.

It wasn’t until he reached the cafeteria that he stumbled upon two other raiders, conversing with each other. He hid behind a wall and eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Don’t you think the boss is going... a little crazy?” One of them, a large man with a shotgun asked.

“What do you mean?” The shorter, leaner man with a rather dopey voice asked in turn. “She seems fine to me.”

“Fine? Are you nuts?! Have you seen what she’s done to the gym?!”

“What about it? Maybe she’s just happy to be in charge for once.”

“Yeah right. The power’s getting to her. She’s deluded, that’s what! We’re only thirteen people! But she’s in the gym, sitting on her GOD DAMN THRONE convinced she’s queen of the world now. She killed Tony just for talking back to her.”

“Well... what should we do then?” The dopey raider asked, suddenly a lot more convinced.

“I’m telling you. It’s only a matter of time until she starts trashing us. We should try to get out of here and get to the rest of the gang. Maybe they’ll take us back.”

“What if they just shoot us? We didn’t ‘xactly leave on good terms.”

“We just have to risk it. Look this is the perfect time. A few of our guys are asleep, the scouting party won’t be back until sunrise, and we’re the only ones guarding a perfect exit.”

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

“Get your gear. Let’s leave in ten minutes.”

The two of them then started to split up, going in opposite directions. The more well-spoken guard started walking away from Hawkins and the cafeteria, starting to walk down another hallway. The dopey-sounding guard however, Hawkins could hear coming towards him, and there was no time to hide and just let him pass.

Instead, the hunter grabbed his knife, and when the raider rounded the corner, he was greeted by a shove against the wall, and the knife entering his throat. The raider squirmed, fear in his eyes, until after a few seconds, he bled out.

“Benny?” The second raider called out, clearly hearing the noise of the struggle. Hawkins quickly turned around, and pulled the knife from the throat of the first raider, the body hitting the floor with a thud, one that the second raider obviously heard.

“Benny?!” The second guard called out, getting more worried about his comrade by the moment. He raised his shotgun and proceeded towards where the yells had come from. The lanterns and candles didn’t illuminate where Hawkins and Benny’s body were, so the raider had to walk cautiously.

Hawkins thought quickly and reached for another throwing knife. He waited for the second raider to get closer and closer until finally he let it loose. The knife impacted with the raider’s chest, but didn’t kill him. The raider gasped in pain, then by instinct looked down at the knife in his chest. Hawkins took the opportunity and dashed forward, hoping to use his regular knife to land the killing blow.

But he slipped on Benny’s blood, and instead stumbled into the guy.

The second raider recovered from the impact first, but rather than shoot Hawkins tried to bash him on the head with the butt of his shotgun. Hawkins barely managed to sidestep, eye wide in surprise and fear before he countered by moving around the second raider. The raider didn’t react in time, giving Hawkins the opportunity to lunge forward and successfully sink the blade into the raider’s throat. Just like Benny, it took a few seconds for the raider to die. Without a hand to cover his mouth, the raider tried to yell out an alert, but only soft gurgles came out. Finally, the man went slack, choking to death on his own blood.

Hawkins with drew his knife and let the body fall to the floor. He listened closely to see if anyone heard the commotion. He didn’t hear any footsteps coming, soft or quick. Maybe he could pull this off without alerting anyone.

Regardless, the conversation the two were having was a gold mine of information. The leader of these raiders was in the gym and she had done something to it (presumably booby-trapped it), she’s been going mad with power, and the four who made up the scouting team wouldn’t be back for a few hours. Plus there were only thirteen. He killed six, knocked out one, three were gone, and two were watching the front entrance. Assuming that raider could count correctly, that just meant the leader was by herself.

He pulled the bodies out of the way of anyone patrolling the halls, and got ready to face the so-called “Queen”.

Suddenly, all the lights went on.

‘Ahhh, shit.’
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
Offline Mini Profile Goto Top
 
Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
Hawkins covered his eyes. After spending the past... he wasn’t even sure how long it had been... in darkness, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light. As he did, the intercom suddenly came on.

“Alarm!” Called out a male voice, “Alarm! Intruder inside! Everyone to your stations!”

Hawkins recognized the voice. It was the raider he had spared, the one he tied up.

‘Shit!’

No way he could take out all of the remaining raiders in these close-quarters once they were all on alert. He could still make a break for it if he hurried.

He started running for it with Talon at the ready, retracing his steps and dashing for the bus port entrance. He wouldn’t be going out that way himself, but if he could make it to a classroom that was near -

“I see him!” A man with a rifle suddenly appeared ahead of him. He hadn’t even raised his rifle yet. In a flash, Hawkins readied Talon and fired. A 10mm round pierced through the raider’s chest, and he fell to the floor.

“He’s around the corner! Move!” An authoritative female voice yelled out.

“I’m flanking!” Another voice sounded. From BEHIND him!

Instinct took over and Hawkins dove into a side room. He had never opened a door faster in his life. He hoped that somehow it would lead him to a room with a window.

And it seems that luck was for once on his side. Despite stealth seeming pointless, he tried to not give away which classroom he dove into. He just unlocked the window, opened it and climbed out... Into the parking lot that was less than 100 meters from the overgrown woods! Yes! Yes! Thank you, Jesus!

With no time to hesitate, he dashed for the woods, but there was a problem. With the lights, he had lost the night vision that had helped him so much during his infiltration. Once he was past the trees, he had no idea where anything was. He’d have to wait until it returned to navigate this place.

“This windows open!” He heard someone yell out. Hawkins turned around and saw the silhouette of someone trying to climb out the window. Without thinking, he dropped to one knee, behind what he thought was a tree, lined up Talon and fired. The target went down no problem.

“Shot came from the left!” He thought he heard. “In the trees!”

Another silhouette appeared in the window, quickly followed by a series of flashes. The machine gunner! The shots weren’t so much aimed at him as they were his general direction. In fact, they went somewhat wide. That didn’t stop Hawkins from getting down in a prone position and praying that the bullets didn’t hit him.

For a few good seconds, he stayed that way, just long enough for his night vision to return to him. He took the time to reload as well, pulling another round from his bandolier.

There was a lapse in the machine gun firing that Hawkins took is his chance. He leaned out of cover, aimed at the window and fired. The machine gunner fell. He didn’t care if the guy was wounded or dead, as long as he stayed down.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw another flash, and the whiz of a bullet flying by him. That sounded like a rifle. The “Queen”?

He cursed at the fact that he couldn’t return fire. This was still a one shot rifle. He couldn’t stay where he was either. The Queen had an idea where he was already. He had to move. Judging from the size of the flash, he estimated that the Queen was too close for comfort. If her hearing was just as good as his, she’d hear it if he tried to move away too quickly.

He crept quietly through the overgrown woods, trying to monitor where the Queen once was, monitor what was on the ground so he wouldn’t snap a twig then give away his position, while also keeping his eyes and ears open for any movement or sounds of movement. He loaded another round into Talon, and tried to keep his breathing calm even as his heart pounded in his chest.

He heard a sound off to his left along with movement he only saw for an instant; very close! By instinct, he turned and fired. A muzzle flash appeared and a shot rang out from his right. A bullet whizzed by him again, barely missing.

Hawkins had to stop himself from cursing out loud. A distraction. A rock or pinecone or something thrown to make him think the Queen had moved so he’d give himself away. And judging from the position the flash came from, she had indeed moved. He began moving himself, just a quietly is before.

Damn! How was he going to flush her out? No way was she going to fall for the same trick. And he didn’t want to run with her on his tail either. He had suddenly remembered that after a few hundred yards of forest, the woods stopped at the nearby road, and he’d be completely exposed.

He looked around is if an answer would come to him, and suddenly it did when he looked at the school, and how so many of the outside lights were on.

What if he...?

He quietly dug around in his pocket for his survival kit, a set of small objects in a soap container, the kind people before the war used to pack soap for trips. In the darkness, he carefully felt for a signal mirror he carried. He pulled it out, successfully not dropping any of the container’s other contents onto the forest ground.

Now he just needed to get into position.

Another muzzle flash. Another shot rang out. He doubted the Queen was even aiming this time. It was bait; she was trying to get him to retaliate and give away his position. He was certain she wasn’t even there anymore.

Once he was in position, facing the school and behind a tree, he pulled out the mirror, held it between two fingers, and angled it, hoping that the mirror would reflect the light from the school, and look to all appearances like the glint from a scope.

Another flash and shot. VERY close by. Less than 70 meters if he guessed it right. But it came from the south, towards the school. That confirmed it. The Queen was between him and the school. Now for Step Two.

Hawkins didn’t fire back. Instead, he moved carefully and quietly to circle the Queen’s position from the north, and prayed this would turn out how he wanted it to.

He suddenly saw something move, a silhouette against the lightened background of the school building, something that clearly was human.

Hawkins raised Talon and fired at the head. There was a short, sharp grunt and a dark cloud appeared from the silhouette’s head. Then nothing. There was no return fire, no movement.

Hawkins proceeded cautiously towards the Queen, just as quiet as before. Once he got close enough that he could make out a form lying on the ground, he took a huge risk and flipped open his lighter.

The Queen was dead as a doornail. She wasn’t large and muscle-bound like you’d imagine so many other raider bosses. Instead, she was a tiny woman, maybe in her late 50s and probably under five feet tall. Huh.

There were no more yells or gunshots, so Hawkins assumed he was safe, but he probably wouldn’t be for long. He realized he didn’t have enough time to fully explore the rest of the school and search for any good loot. He made due with searching the Queen’s corpse for anything valuable.

Then he moved towards Bucket Town. He had already done the best he could. The scouting party would be back yes, but they would probably be the only one’s left. Three raiders wasn’t much of a threat to any properly-equipped caravan, and he’d report the situation properly once he got to Bucket Town. If the raider’s hadn’t dispersed by then, then the law enforcement there could take care of them.

Hawkins smiled. All things considered, it was a job well done.

Finished
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
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FallenSanity
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Howdy SH, welcome to the exclusive club of People Graded by FallenSanity. I know it's a huge honour, but we really can't focus on that right now, there's bigger shit to focus on. Like this grade! So let's get started!

Broad statements are where I'll start bud - this was a good solo. You said you didn't feel like it was as good as it could've been, and while that's likely true, it's still a good piece. Shows off Hawkins nicely, gives a good example of your writing style and could easily be used as the main source for anyone looking to tag with you. It gives a great expectation of your work, and of your thoughts when it comes to writing. Your style is growing, and I always love seeing small-scale fellows like these. I dig it, and overall it get's probably a 7/10.

But, there's a few points missing there. And I'm gonna delve into those.

First things first, your style. Like I said, it's growing and I look forward to seeing more of it, but there's a few bumps in the road. A lot of repetition, and needless use of adjectives. We don't need to know he slowly is moving; he's sneaking around, I can tell he's moving slowly. I doubt he's sprinting silently all over the place, he's not Corvo Attano. I have a few examples here, just in case my point is being missed:

Quote:
 
Anyway, once he was around twenty feet from the guard, Hawkins decided he just had to get a little closer. Slowly and silently moving Talon to his back, he pulled a throwing knife from the pouch strapped to his thigh, and got it ready to throw.

He crept closer until he was a dozen feet from the guard, then gripped the throwing knife by the grip before tossing it. It did a full spin once, then twice, then finally... impact.


So much of this just didn't need to be. One or two lines would've done the job just fine. You don't need to mention how far he is to then describe that he wants to get closer. Just say he's still moving forward. You then mentioned his movements again, and made sure to make it clear he was creeping and being silent and that he gripped the grip and it all just ran on much like this sentence right now is. It felt like a needless mess. This didn't occur a lot in your writing - and sometimes the exact opposite happened, like when you wrote the murder of two men as just a one line deal - but it's worth keeping an eye on.

There was also this that caught my eye:

Quote:
 
So instead, he moved his left hand back over the raider’s mouth before proceeding to try and beat the guy unconscious with the butt of his knife. It was easier said than done and it took a few good hits, but eventually the raider was knocked out.


A lot in this solo, did I see you using survival tactics or knowledge that was then ignored later on, or ignored in the first place and then focused on. This moment here, where you clubbed a man out of consciousness, seemed to be ignored when he was then on the PA speaking clearly and without hassle. All else aside, this guy would probably be dead if you'd just spent your time bashing his skull until he went limp. I get what you were going for, but this almost felt dark, until it then became clear he wasn't actually dead. It came off as needless for someone who would probably know how to choke a person out.

The final critique I have is about how you've written Hawkins himself. I like Hawkins, I wanna see more of him, but you might wanna watch yourself. He seems like an incredible survivalist, he can make a great weapon, he knows how to utilise 'night vision' (speaking of, maybe don't focus so much on that next time - his PERCEPTION should be enough) and can read and write. Despite this, he's just barely above average intellect for the Wasteland. He was also written as headstrong in his profile, but here he seemed very cautious - scouting out the school for two full days? That's a bit much. I feel like you want him to be a bit smarter than he is. Luckier, too. I get that, but just keep it in mind from now on.

So, like I said - 7/10. A pass, but make sure you work on those little issues here and there man. And don't feel dissuaded, this is still a great little piece.

Now, for the fun stuff!

REWARDS

  • Semi-Auto Revolver (T3, Broken) Now this is a badass piece. Too bad the raider that had it never tried to use the thing, else he'd have noticed it's broken in eight places. It operates via recoil, but is jammed up. The hammer is also broken, and there seems to be something in the barrel. If this gets fixed, it could be a valuable piece.
  • Hip Holster You are gonna look badass with this, especially if you also happen to own a gun.
  • Queens Cards (RARITY) A deck of playing cards that the Queen had customised herself. The four houses are represented by different raider gangs; Red Raiders, Gas Hounds, Lobbers and Signbacks. The Joker cards resemble a man in a stylish fedora and trenchcoat, with 'that mysterious stranger' written down the side.
Edited by FallenSanity, Apr 2 2018, 08:14 PM.
Daniel Orton [HC]
Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook
Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag
Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike
Status Effects: Internal Parasite
Abilities: Sucker Punch
S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8

Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire
Lvl 1: Humble Hobo
Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat
S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7

CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners

LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is

FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur
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