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| A fist full of Jet; Vince is a Jackass with no self control. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 20 2016, 07:25 PM (498 Views) | |
| azstarael | Oct 30 2016, 11:28 PM Post #16 |
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"Got a light?"
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Spike couldn’t keep himself from cackling at the look on the guy’s face as he swelled up, like he was cock of the walk, what a tool. It cut short quickly, he took in a hissing gasp through his teeth, letting it out with a groan. “Ow, don’t make me laugh, you son of a bitch.” He winced, and gave his side a ginger prodding. Yup, definitely cracked something. All in all, though, he supposed things could have gone a lot worse. This was going to make an amazing bar story. Spike grabbed Vince’s hand, found that his own had a distinct tremor in it, and shook it firmly. “Spike. Just Spike. So—” A pointless, persistent thought had been nagging the back of his mind since the top of the now-felled telephone pole, “-why the hell’d you call the bomb ‘Helen’?” "Oh." He said softly when it seemed his acquaintance here didn't have a last name but he seemed even more shocked when the subject of Helen was brought up and he nearly smacked himself in the forehead with his other hand. "Aw hell! that's right! No no, look th' bomb ain't Helen, Helen is my gun! I made her!" Jerry rigged and zappy as all hell. "Cute l'il laser pistol, bituvva shocker sometimes but she always did well. By hell when ya stole my shit how'd you NOT steal Helen!?" Spike gave Vince a look like he’d just asked him to throw himself into a pit of deathclaws. “What the hell would I want with a hunk of junk that zapped the piss out of me as soon as I touched it?” No wonder it had given him such a bite, jittery little jethead probably had three or four wires crossed. Not just the pistol, either. “But hey,” he perked up, “I know where it is.” The wide, toothy grin split his face, making him wince; shit, that split through his lip was open again. “I don’t have anything better to do with my day. I’ll take you, if you can hook me up with some cigarettes.” "She ain't junk she's just a bit finnicky, if ya don't handle 'er right she'll shock ya good." But he seemed to be thinking that one over but his nostalgia got the better of him. "Awright, fine you help me find Helen an' I'll hook you up." Vince hated the way that sounded, like he OWED somebody something. But his pistol was worth it, she'd gotten him out of a few jams even when his fingers locked up on him and she'd still go off even when he didn't pull the trigger all the way down. Sure he'd nearly shot himself and other people in the foot SEVERAL times, but it was still his gun and nobody elses. He wouldn't give her up for anything! Okay maybe every scrap of Jet in the world but he'd build a death machine and get her back right after the shaking stopped. “I foun’ these scavvin’, afore some lanky moron interrupted with a Ghoul up his candy ass,” Vince told him, pulling the mostly-intact pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “ ‘Bout half full. That make us square?” “What?” Spike’s mood did a full 180, even with the pain still lancing through most of him. “Oh my God yes, oh thank Christ, give me those.” “Nuh uh.” Vince yanked them out of reach when Spike snatched for them. “Ya get one, take me t’Helen, then I’ll hand over yer coffin nails, got it?” Spike frowned briefly, but that would be acceptable. He’d already completely forgotten his quest to kick the tar out of Vince as the prospect of finally, finally getting a cigarette made everything else inconsequential. “Yeah yeah yeah,” the words spilled out quickly as he held out one scrawny hand like a child begging for candy. “Whatever you want, gimmie.” Still looking decidedly wary, Vince flicked a cigarette at him. Spike caught it and fumbled for his lighter with trembling hands, making the flame flicker as he took a long, frantic pull, then fell backward onto his bony ass with a groan of relief. He sprawled all the way out, ignoring the ash that swirled up and stung his eyes, staring into the dingy sky as a sense of bliss spread over him. He spent a minute puffing like a dirty chimney before he had to slow down and hack some grit out of his lungs. He didn’t want to get back up, but a promise was a promise, and for once, Spike really wasn’t in the mood to cause trouble. “All right.” He started getting up slowly, teeth set against the various injuries that were stabbing him with pain again. “It’s north from here, maybe a mile.” He had to pause, groaned loudly, as a particularly large knife of agony slid between his ribs. His free hand pressed firmly to his side, he finally got his feet under himself, and huffed out a labored breath. Oh man, this one was going to cause issues. “Help me find my hat.” Vince staggered along side him, for now they were comrades in this time of horrible pain. In fact the guy was so full of good will right now because he wanted Helen back he put forth a bit more effort than he should have in trying to find that Hat. Which he did, picking it up off some rubble and dusting it off and oops, well his pinky finger found a hole that was sliced right through the top of the thing. A piece of glass did that no doubt. Alas, a casualty in the Junkie Vs Roamer war. "Well I found it." He said after a long moment, turning towards his comrade. "It ain't lookin' too good Pal." He wiggles his finger at the other man stiffly through the hole. Spike groaned again, disappointment mingled with the pain that had come from whipping his head around. He hobbled over and took it back, gave the hole a critical examination, and determined that he could probably find someone to stitch it up for him. In the meantime, he flicked a few chunks of gore off the brim, took out the tape he'd managed to find in the dirt, and slapped a piece over the hole. Considering it "fixed enough" for the time being, he pushed it firmly over his filthy hair, and tried to roll one shoulder. The look on his face showed that he regretted it, but he took as deep a breath as he could and gave Vince another crooked grin. “Ready, you scabby weasel?” "Sure am ya lanky Skunk." came the reply, at least he wasn't bothered by the fact that his hat now had a new hole in it. Maybe in a way, Vince was starting to entertain the idea of getting along with someone. For the first time in a long time. Both hobbling along with the occasional, various grunt of pain, they slipped back into the ruins together, just two junkies on a mission to survive until they could find their next hit. FIN |
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Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode) S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5 Perks Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant Equipment: Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet Armor: Duster coat (Poor Condition) Reputation Bucket Town (-30) Claw (Companion) S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2 Perks Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman Equipment Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition) Armor Desert Clothing (Poor Condition) Nicholas Stahley, level 1 S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7 Perks Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner Equipment Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun Armor Dirty Pre-war Clothes | |
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| identicalcurve | Nov 10 2016, 04:37 PM Post #17 |
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Mad King of the Salmon
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QUALITY: This RP was of fairly good quality. While there were some minor errors in grammar and formatting they weren't too difficult to deal with. The major problem i had was that the rp felt too long winded, seeming to draw out parts that should have been shorter and compress parts i would have liked a little more of. Beyond this the thread was fairly interesting and of a good quality. REALITY: This pretty much fits in well with the reality of The Wastes. USAGE: The usage of action in this is fine. I would have like to see more, but i understand it is mostly a character/social piece. QUANTITY: I am fine with the length of this thread. ENJOYABILITY: I must admit that the enjoyability of this RP ebbed and flowed. There were some parts I enjoyed quite well, while others seemed to drag on an on. Though i must say it is not on behalf of the writers but more the characters. The insult fest between two junkies really wasn't the most appealing, but the final part was pretty good. [B[INDIVIDUAL SCORES[/B]: Quality: 3/4 Reality: 4/4 Usage: 2/2 Quantity: 2/2 Enjoyability: 1/2 OVERALL SCORES: 12/14 REWARDS: Level UP for both Posters. |
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Jamison "Jay" Reynolds Special: S-5 P-5 E-5 C-5 I-7 A-* L-5 Inventory: Rudimentary Revolver, Pipe Rifle, Duster Coat, and Cowboy Hat. Traits: Good Natured, Sex Appeal (Straight), Revolving Killer. White Oak Baseball Bat Stake (Teir 2 poor.) (Ownership of a mostly destroyed 57 Bellaire {Roof and frame intact)} ![]() I Hope You're Satisfied. | |
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