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Little Bird, Little Bird, Little Bird; What do you see? (Solo)
Topic Started: Aug 22 2009, 08:49 AM (222 Views)
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((Ooc: Once again, this has been split up into posts for the sake of the grader eyes.))

“In and out. In and out.” Betty muttered to herself, as she pushed back through the crowds. Bucket Town sure was a hell of a place. For being a dinky crap shack, lots seemed to happen. Chaos, mayhem, religion, and now: traders. How convenient. Her childhood memories were tradable for cold steel and crow’s feet. What a lovely world. Memories into metal. She remembered reading somewhere that in the past, pre-bomb, people used to cover precious items in bronze. Strange strange strange. Didn’t metal have more useful uses?

Strange. I don’t think I saw Eli. You’d think he’d be all over this. Betty thought to herself. She did recognize some people, though. The kind of mean guy from Corotto’s camp, Caleb, the tribal. She thought she saw the guy who had hassled her after she ran away from after going into Giardelli’s office. Giardelli? That didn’t sound right. Godiva? No, that was the streaking noble woman. Who cares? That God-guy. She wasn’t sure though.

She had parted ways with the very handsome Dave earlier. He had been cute, and extremely fun to harass. Friendly sexual harassment. It was fun to watch him squirm. She had always had a talent for that. Messing with men’s minds. You’re such a tramp, Betty. She said to herself. She giggled. Insults were always amusing when she said them to herself.

“Maybe I’m go looking for a different town. Bucket Town doesn’t seem to agree with me on all grounds.” Betty muttered to herself, twirling her crowbar around in a circle like a baton.
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“It seems like all my forays into the desert always start near sundown. You noticed that pooch?” Betty said, scanning the horizon after a while of walking. The sun was slowly sinking and shifting from typical yellow to an almost celebratory orange. Roman yapped back. “Well, okay. Both the things with Corotto were during the day. And I met Dave in the morning. Okay. Not everything. But a lot of things.”

Roman gave her a skeptical look, but she ignored it. Disapproving dogs would not stop her. She was in a surprisingly good mood. She didn’t know why, but she felt as though she was going to have a good day.

She continued to stare at the horizon as she walked steadily forward. Bucket town was long out of view now. Good riddance? She hadn’t decided whether it was a good riddance moment. It was best not to say good riddance til one knew she’d never see it again. Maybe when she found herself in a different town, she’d say good riddance to Bucket Town.

Roman turned around and started barking. She was on the slow learning process of learning about Roman. He seemed to have an amazing ability for finding people. Or maybe he was just a dog with good ears and nose.

“Lo there!” Betty called, turning around. Two figures, coming up to her. She waved to them, they waved back. With a quick jog, she traversed the distances between the three of them.
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The two figures quickly came into full view. A man and a woman. He was short. Only 5’8” or 9. Betty had never exactly been a skyscraper, but he sure looked like the kind of guy who got picked last for basketball as a kid. She had never been very good at basketball, but for some reason all the boys her age fought over who got Betty on their team. Even and especially as they grew older, sometimes when Betty wasn’t even in the lineup. He wasn’t handsome, or nice looking. Well, he seemed friendly enough.

Apparently he had a very winning personality, though. Standing right near him was an amazingly beautiful girl. She was much younger than Betty. Probably 16, maybe 17 at the various oldest. She seemed highly attached to him—and very nervous. Her frame was willowy and lithe. Her hair curled delicately and her eyes were brilliant and green. She was tall, too. Betty had always wished she had been tall, but she was short stuff, even on her best days.

“No need to look so worried, darling. I don’t mean either of ya any harm.” Betty said, folding her arms. For a moment, neither of them seemed to be able to find her face. Both seemed somewhat baffled and taken off-guard. They seemed entirely glued to her cleavage.

“We uh...melon--mean no harm either.” The man said, taking a step forward and looking up. Roman snarled. He took a step back.

“Romey!” Betty said, grabbing the dog by the collar and jerking him back. The snarl reduced down to a sullen growl then slowly boiled down to nothingness. “Sorry about that. Roman is a bit of a drama dog. I’m Betty.”

“I’m Ferris. And this is Uma. Her English isn’t the best, otherwise I’d just have her introduce herself. Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” They shook hand. Uma didn’t take her hand when Betty offered it. She just smiled nervously and somewhat desperately.

“I always wished I had a body like yours, Uma. I finally gave up when I realized I wasn’t growing taller than this.” Betty said, smiling and laughing. Ferris laughed also. Uma just smiled again. What was with her eyes? Scared. She looked scared. Maybe it was just fright on meeting a new person. Some people were like that. Insecure. Fidgety.

“We were just about to set up camp and eat. Care to join us, Betty?”
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Time seemed to fly. Ferris was friendly and sociable. Uma was quiet and frankly freaked out. Sociophobic. That explained it. She had read about that in a book once. Ferris was generous with his food. His fire starting ability seemed to be a bit on the dull side, but Betty supplied that. Talk talk, talk talk. She hadn’t had good conversation in a while. It was nice.

But, no matter how much she wanted to spend an entire night chattering, she felt her eyelids drooping. Finally, she said good night and walked a bit away from the firelight to set up her mat. Too much light, and it wasn’t oh so very insanely cold. Pulling her blankets up around her neck, she closed her eyes.

Before long, she began to doze. And then, she heard Uma and Ferris talking. At first it was too quiet to hear. Uma, as Betty had expected, has some sort of foreign accent. Swedish? Well, something. Definitely something. The discussion turned from quiet and calm to quiet and heated. Still no discernable words. She tried to listen, but she just couldn’t tell. They wouldn’t speak up.

Then, they spoke up.

“Please. Please—no!”

“Shut up you little bitch. I bought you. You’re mine.”

“Please I—“
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The noise of yelling was replaced by noises of movement. Betty decided it might be time to open her eyes, turn around and interject. Slowly grabbing her crowbar, she stood up and walked over as quietly as she could.

Maybe Ferris wasn’t such a nice guy. Nervous and freaked out, that was Uma. She looked terrified. Betty couldn’t tell if she could see her, but she knew he couldn’t. Twirling it once more, she crashed her crowbar into the skull of Ferris just as he sat up.

“Damn I’m a good shot.” Betty muttered to herself. She gave Ferris a good sharp kick in the ribs and sort of pushed his unconscious out of the way in a haphazard way. Uma quickly stood up and rearranged her clothes. They stood for a moment, staring at each other.

“Get the hell out of here! Take those supplies and run!” Uma just looked shocked at Betty. She gestured strongly in the direction of ‘away.’ “GIT!”

‘Git’ apparently seemed to be a universal. She grabbed a bag from off the ground, and darted. Betty couldn’t tell what direction she went in the darkness, but she assumed back in the direction of Bucket Town. Or at least she hoped.

But she quickly had other things to think about.
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“You little bitch.” Ferris slurred as he sat up. He attempted to stand, but wasn’t doing a very good job at it. “I bought her all the goddamn way from Europe. You know how expensive it is to import slaves? I was just having a little fun with her before I sold her for a very high price. Girls like that go for a lo—“

Her was cut off just as he stood up. By another well aimed swing from Betty’s crowbar. He fell right back down. While she had always been told not to, the old saying didn’t stop her from hitting him while he was down. A few sharp kicks in the ribs. Roman joined in also, biting deep and hard into his leg.

“You fucking bitch!” He managed to gasp out, before one more thunk turned his lights off. In the firelight, Betty couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not, but...she didn’t care. Strange. It was satisfying for some reason. Violence wasn’t necessarily her thing, but this was well beyond justified. Taking advantage and abusing that poor girl. Just a teenager. Sold. Like an animal.

“Roman, let’s beat it.” Betty said, whistling. She took an extra moment to spit on Ferris’s face before walking off. In the firelight, which was slowly burning down, she saw a bag at the man’s hip. Bending down, she tugged at it firmly. It came off.

The moon slowly started creeping up across the desert. Bright, shining. The sun’s nocturnal sister. She picked up her bag, and her mat and began to walk forward. She felt Roman lick her hand as he walked up behind her.

Betty gave his ears a scritch as she walked towards the rising moon. It looked so close. “Maybe we’ll go to the moon next.”

She stopped for a second, turning around. “Oh yeah. I forgot to say it. Silly me...Good Riddance!”
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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
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(OOC-Since when was 5'9 short? It's average.)
Jesse Winters - Penitentiary Pugilist
8(+2).5.7.5.5.8.4, Level: 4 -HC-

Grace Van Vliet - Indie Incinerator
5.7.7.5.5.4.7, Level: 3 -HC-
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Lmgthev:� Like tbh I agree CP is not the golden boy at all
Lmgthev:� You're like John Candy from Cool Runnings
Lmgthev:� Washed up has been who teaches the newcomers the trade� :D

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"What is Adderal, anyhow?" - Funky Fan
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Radiation King
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"We can't stop here! This is bat country!"
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(I'm just a few inches over 5'9" and I'm considered "tall".)
Darrel Cohen, the smooth-talking "Gentleman Thief" (Level 3)

Evan Laramie, the down-home gunslinger (Level 1)
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((Ooc: I know, dammit. It's called character writing. I'm only 5'4", 5'9" is plenty tall to me. It's all perception. If you want to tell me these things, by the way, PM me. It's much more effective.))
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Zilabus
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Gradin' time! Lord knows it's overdue...

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Rewards
1 large hide
Dirty radio mic.


Yay slave trade! Haha. Anyways, nice work. I almost leveled you up... but not quite. I'm sure your udderly dissapointed.
Eli "Slim" Ambrose
SPECIAL: 3, 9, 2, 7, 9, 3, 7
Level: 5
Bucket town reputation: -175
Equipment
Weaponry: Molotov, Cherry bombs, Combat Knife, Laser pistol, Tack Mines, Smoke grenades, Syringes.
Armor:Post-war suit Tattered leather jacket
Inventory
Homemade shotgun, Gumballs, Bedspread
Mentats x3, Psycho x2, Jet x1, Wiskey x2, vodka
4 1/2 x Hides, 15 LSB dollars
Appearance
Caucasian
Very tall, lanky, and slim, jet black hair in a greased into a subdued pompadore style. Dark eyes and a cleanshaven face. Brown Windowpane suit.

Kelly "Featherweight" Capozzi
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