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Interlude
Topic Started: Sep 25 2010, 07:35 AM (156 Views)
LitD
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Ghoul
[ *  *  *  * ]
The sheet of copper slowly turned colour from its original reddish brown to a greenish shade, when the man decided it was sufficient he removed it from the fire and began to wrap the softened metal around the wooden form before clamping a wooden block with the appropriate shape carved in it around the copper and squeezed it tight with a vice. Removing the form revealed a copper cylinder that could be slid off the wooden form.

John Rakowski studied the product with a critical eye before nodding it was good enough. He put the case down next to others like it awaiting bases to be formed for them, following that would be places priming caps in their base before filling the cases with black powder followed by some wool followed by waxed felt before finally putting the bullet in place.

Why was John doing this? The answer to that was simple, to pay off his debt. Having a piece of metal shoved through ones leg required medical attention, following that would be some rest for observation and to avoid aggravating his injury. Three weeks and counting to be exact so of course he needed somewhere to sleep and food to eat as well as beer to drink… and all that costs. Fortunately for him the town mechanic had a large order to make and was willing to enlist the man for a brief time as an aid, allowing to speed up the process as both elder mechanics took one of Mr Daniels sons to assist them.

Not very stimulating work but John found himself enjoying it anyway. There was something reassuring about the workshop and the associated smells, burnt metal, the rotten egg stench of sulphur, rock oil and all the rest of it. There was also the added bonus that it gave him the ability to move around and do something without having his warden throw a tantrum.

- ‘Mr Rakowski! She’s here again.’

“So you don’t actually have to speak of the devil for it to appear” he thought as he put down the sheet of copper he was beginning to work on with a sigh. He made his way to the workshops entrance pulling away the protective clothing that covered his linen shirt and trousers. Both articles of clothing had neared their original colour as all the dust, grime, sweat and blood had been washed away when they had been confiscated to be repaired.

With another heavy sigh the man hung up the leather cover and walked to the entrance where two individuals stood engaged in conversation. One was Mr Daniels, the owner who mercifully allowed John to assist in the workshop, a tough man slightly older than himself, though a hell lot more hair on his head, a smaller beard barely past the stubble stage and eyes and a mouth that never seemed to declare anything other than amusement.

The other was a short, skinny excuse for a woman, one of the doctors daughters who was both assisting her father in his duties while learning secrets of the trade, she was assigned to watch over Johns recovery and seemed to take the task very seriously. On seeing the man the smile she had on turned into a frown and her fists immediately rested on her hips.

- ‘There you are! I trust you’re not doing anything you’re not supposed to?’

John gave a completely honest answer that he wasn’t doing anything of the sort. He omitted to mention that he had been doing so before he answered the question, lifting and carrying stacks of scrap metal was one of the things on the “Do not do” list.

The girl did not seem to believe the man but being unable to see any hint of a lie (the goggles covering his eyes helped) so she turned his gaze to Daniels. The man lifted his arms in mock surrender and replied,

- ‘I have had him doing light duty, honest Helen.’

Which was true in a way, fetch and carry was one of the lighter jobs in a workshop, physically taxing perhaps, but not difficult. The girl shifted her gaze from one man to the other before sighing dramatically.

- ‘Fine. Come on Mr Rakowski, lets see that leg of yours.’
- ‘You can use the washroom if you need privacy.’

John sighed once more for effect but followed obediently and when commanded dropped his pants and presented the dressed thigh the medic in training. The woman began to remove the dressing with the face of a professional, completely unfazed by the mans underwear near her face. She proceeded to prod, poke and otherwise abuse the scar, which John took with patience born from the knowledge that his protests would fall on deaf ears, if he was lucky that is. After a while the woman sighed and clicked her tongue.

-‘Terrible. Absolutely terrible.’

She said with a shake of her head as she collected the bandage.

- ‘What is?’

The mechanic prompted, with a face that did not betray much concern, not that his face was capable of showing much save irritation. The apprentice doctor stood up and dusted off her dress as she replied.

- ‘You’re leg is healed. I can’t charge you anymore for it. You can pull you’re trousers up.’

John stood up and did so, the suspenders snapping into place almost like a statement of his satisfaction at the information.

- ‘Meaning I can leave?’
- ‘If you really miss trudging through dusty plains and twisted forests infested with dangerous mutants, bandits and savages than yes, you can. Although I would suggest you still don’t put too much faith in that leg. That and you might as well show up tomorrow and have pa see it.’

John nodded to show he would take the advice into consideration.

- ‘How much do I owe you?’

The girl stopped and turned around, but did not reply immediately as if she was thinking about the fact, something that came as a surprise to John as she always seemed to have an immediate answer to any of his enquiries. Finally she shrugged as she replied.

- ‘Nothing. Pa says that you’ve paid you’re debt when you fixed the generator for him.’
- ‘Thank you. Give him my regards Miss Milton.’
- ‘I told you my name is Helen.’
- ‘And I believe I told you it’s a nice name.’

The banter done Miss Helen Milton left, leaving John free to take a piss before going back to work.
John Rakowski Level 3 S:6 P:6 E:6 C:4 I:7 A:6 L:5
Full-length hooded duster. Pipe rifle. Kitchen knife (serrated blade). High Quality Autorevolver. Rock Knuckles. Gunpowder Mine.
Large Hide. 17 Piece Lock Pick Set. Stimpack. Tin of Tabacco. Sketch Pad+Charcoal. Magic 8ball, NCS 5 dollar note. Odd Holotape. Precious metal.
Average in height but underweight. Cold grey eyes set in a thin skull above a thin nose over a thin mouth set in a frown. Bald but with a beard streaked with grey.
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LitD
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Ghoul
[ *  *  *  * ]
John yawned, not even bothering with an attempt to hide it; he believed he was entitled to as much.

- ‘Cover your mouth when you yawn, it’s unsightly.’

John scowled but did not say anything, firm in the belief that he was fully entitled to a yawn after being forced up at four in the morning, saying his prayers and than tackling the mess of vegetation that his host claimed to be a garden. It must be pointed out that his host was a man of God and as such getting up at four for a prayer before getting to work was normal and he fully expected those lodging with him to follow the routine.

Seeing as the priest demanded virtually no fee other than that is what made John stay in the church, small sacrifices had to be made for a dry, warm place to sleep with breakfast supplied, though the food was bland if he were to be picky. That and the fact father Joseph was a firm believer in no alcohol before noon so the mechanic had to make do with the black liquid gained from roasting grains that substituted coffee in the USA of post apocalyptia.

- ‘So the leg is now good?’
- ‘Is what the doc said… well, her daughter did.’

John stated in reply to the priests question. The man nodded his head sagely while chewing his porridge.

- ‘Well if Helen said that than I guess its true. I’d think you should still avoid putting too much faith in that leg but I’m guessing you’re in a hurry to find your kin.’

John nodded in reply. Surprising even John the priest succeeded in drawing plenty of information from the silent man, making John silently promise himself not to be in a situation where someone can use his sleep deprived state to draw information. Joseph sighed before licking his spoon clean and putting it down.

- ‘You decided whe…’

The sound of movement outside made both men look up, John instinctively reaching to his pistol that the priest saw no reason for the man not to keep (though his disapproval was evident). The opened violently and a small shape tumbled in.

- ‘Father! Father! Dad says you gotta come quick! They brought someone in andhe’sbleedingallovertheplaceandhesaidthathe’lldowhathecanbutyougottacomecausetheguylookslikehe’shalfwaytherealready!

John did not get much of that and he doubted the priest got much more but he was up and halfway to the door in a short moment throwing a “catch you’re breath” at the messenger. John poured a cup of coffee and handed it to girl.

- ‘You heard him Rachael, sit down, get you’re breath.’

Rachael did as told and silently observed John collect the dishes and put them to the sink. John frowned in irritation at being saddled with someone’s kid but attempted not to show it.

- ‘You eaten yet kid?’
- ‘No sir.’

John nodded and scooped some of the bland porridge into a bowl and handed it to the youngest of the doctors girls, knowing full well that the priest wouldn’t mind he also opened a cupboard and pulled out a jar of honey, for a moment he considered pulling out the whiskey bottle to add some to his coffee but decided against it. A spoon of honey landed in the girls porridge and she flashed a grin (devoid of the front two teeth) at the man.

- ‘Thank you sir!’
- ‘Eat up, otherwise you’ll be short and skinny your entire life.’

She did so even without prompting and John couldn’t help a slight upward tug at his lips as he recalled similar scenes at what had been his table… the smile disappeared and he drank his coffee with his usual scowl in place. When the girl finished he asked what was on his mind.

- You got any more info on your dads patient?’

The girl nodded.

- ‘He’s big an’ smelly but he was really white and he looked like he was in a lot of pain, mind I guess not havin’ one leg would be mighty painful and there was blood everywhere and he was brought in by two other guys who were as dirty and smelly but not as much blood and they had their limbs so I guess they were okay…’

John filtered the information as best he could while trying to remember if any of his kids were this talkative. He decided they most definitely were not.

- ‘Right. Right. I get it. Drink up your coffee and we’ll go see your pa.’

*>*>*>*>*>>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>>*>*>*

The man used to be a caravan driver, until his trip to a secluded spot to void his bowels ended with him being attacked by a carnivore of some kind. At least that was what John gathered from scraps of conversations in the clinic.

- ‘How’s the leg John? Not acting up?’
- ‘Not even a limp.’

Doctor Milton nodded as he dried his hands, the water still dying the towel red. He nodded hi head towards the concealed body, Father Joseph’s form kneeling by it as he slowly went over a prayer for the deceased.

- ‘You really want to go back out there?’
- ‘I can’t really stay here can I.’
- ‘Honestly? Probably not but still it’s depressing to think that outside these walls life means so little.’

John shrugged and that was all the doctor would get as a reply. Milton sighed and pulled out his tobacco and packed a wad into his mouth before offering some to John, who took it and shoved it into his mouth. The two men walked out and observed the sun rise from above the horizon and chewed the dried leaves in silence, broken only by the occasional spitting of unwanted fluids.

- ‘You know John?’

The mechanic looked at the doctor with an eyebrow raised.

- ‘The caravan happens to be moving in the direction you are.’

*>*>*>*>*>*>*>>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*>*

With a final tug Rakowski made certain that the straps of his backpack were secure. The other two bags along with the weapon belts were already in place and the mechanic found himself surprised to realize how strange he had felt without all the weight on him. Less than a year ago he cursed the need to carry so much equipment and his need for more supplies, now he felt naked without the familiar burden. The thought made the man think, should it really be this easy to switch from family man to homeless drifter?

He pushed the thought aside and slung the backpack into place, locking the chest strap shut and test flexed to see whether the weight was properly distributed. Satisfied he picked up his rifle and slung it on over his shoulder. Taking a last look around the churches common room he made a mental list and made sure he had taken everything. Thinking of nothing he had missed he walked from the room and into the sunlight. Taking a moment for his eyes to adjust he wasn’t too surprised to hear a voice address him.

- ‘Safe journeys, John.’

The man turned and nodded.

- ‘Thank you for putting up with me.’
- ‘Not a problem, it’s the lords house anyway, not mine.’

John grunted in reply and silence fell, John feeling he should say something but he couldn’t think of anything. He sighed, pulled off his glove and extended the hand.

- ‘Thank you.’

He repeated. Joseph looked at the hand before grasping it.

- ‘Be safe.’
John Rakowski Level 3 S:6 P:6 E:6 C:4 I:7 A:6 L:5
Full-length hooded duster. Pipe rifle. Kitchen knife (serrated blade). High Quality Autorevolver. Rock Knuckles. Gunpowder Mine.
Large Hide. 17 Piece Lock Pick Set. Stimpack. Tin of Tabacco. Sketch Pad+Charcoal. Magic 8ball, NCS 5 dollar note. Odd Holotape. Precious metal.
Average in height but underweight. Cold grey eyes set in a thin skull above a thin nose over a thin mouth set in a frown. Bald but with a beard streaked with grey.
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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
I liked this one. It was the sort of casual writing where you half-expect what will come next, but it still feels fun to watch unfold. A slower, more relaxed mission then what I usually expect, and it was nice to see a change of pace. The only complaint I can really think of is that it feels more like a fragment of a bigger story then a episode in itself, but this may have been done on purpose, and it leaves a unique feel.

So really, all in all, a pretty good, slower paced mission.

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Precious metal x1
You must've accidently slipped this chunk of shimmering metal in your pocket and forgotten about it. Whatever it is, it's probably valuable in the way that all semi-pure metals are in the wasteland.

Odd Holotape x1
It's obviously a holotape, but this one seems to have some odd extra bit of wires and other electronic doodads hanging off of it, as if they've been soldered on after the fact. Maybe it'd be best to take it to an expert of some kind.
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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