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File: fls5.png (1.24 MB, 957x912)
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Today, you took a life, not the life of a mirelurk nor that of a feral ghoul, but the life of something with real intelligence and emotions, a person. It’s a difficult thought to process even as you cast the lifeless body into the snow, taking the trouble to bury her only so that Fred doesn’t get curious and acquire strange appetites.

There was a weight to the action you hadn’t anticipated, a confusion, revulsion, maybe a certain element of sadness that still hums in your system long after the brief impact of your spike driver has fallen away. You idly wonder if these emotions are even yours, as you start on the hole, or if they’re something buried inside of you by your creators, a failsafe to curtail what otherwise should be a wholly logical process that left no room for questions.

Maybe that’s what it meant to be human, to have questions without answers, to ask yourself what if long after the trigger had been pulled. As you lay the body to rest and then begin packing the frozen earth down into the shallow grave, they’re all you’re left with. It’s just that and the echo of your own words.

You don’t need rest. You don’t need to stop. You are a machine, and as the sun rises high in the sky, its radiance shimmering from every snow encrusted rooftop, you still have a task set in front of you. The Museum of Living Computers is waiting.

> What to do…
> [] Go inside. Search for anything that’s left.
> [] Search the jeep. It was already loaded.
> [] Other
>>
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>>1887317

For new players, welcome to Fallout: Last Spark, a post-apocalyptic game where-in you take up the role of an artificial intelligence originally designed to protect and serve the citizens of Seattle in event of catastrophes both natural and man-made. Woken after a two century nap, you are now back on the path to reclaim your city and tame the post-apocalypse.

For those who want to follow me on twitter for quest announcements and the like:
https://twitter.com/bananon_QM

Though the first archive is misplaced, all subsequent threads will be saved here:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=last+spark
>>
>>1887317
>> [] Go inside. Search for anything that’s left.
You're better at opening locked doors than a couple of goons with anger management issues.
>>
>>1887317
>[] Go inside. Search for anything that’s left.
>>
>>1887317
>> [] Go inside. Search for anything that’s left.
>>
>>1887317
>> [] Search the jeep. It was already loaded.
>>
>>1887361
Suddenly, I'm struck with the feeling we should catalog what they've already got and move it somewhere less conspicuous.
>>
>>1887361
>>1887409
>>1887434
>>1887513
>>1887522
>>1887317

You’ll have time to search through the contents of the jeep later. Right now, the bigger focus should be on securing the perimeter and figuring out what’s still left inside. There’s no telling how long it will take for the Lurker base to realize what just happened, but should worse come to worse, you can always evacuate with what’s already been acquired and loaded, including one unconscious raider. Best not to have to unload and then load back up in that case.

So, you step back inside, maneuvering tactfully around the blood puddle where Beth had breathed her last. Fortunately, it seems Fred took no interest in it, and continues to ignore it as she follows you through the halls of what was once a place of learning.

The years, unfortunately, had not been as kind to the inside of the museum as it had been to the outside, the complex strewn with broken and discarded remains of former displays and the floor littered with glass. From what you can tell, at some point, someone may have tried to make this place home, classrooms turned into desperation shelters, their chalkboards used to seal blasted out windows and their meager furnishings repurposed to meet the needs of daily life.

You do spy the displays you would have been looking for in the Hall of Robotics, but find it all but empty, save for the cardboard cut-out promising the soon-to-be-opened Power Armor showcase coming soon. Unfortunately, the shipment with the retired suit was a couple of days shy of the end. A shame really, as the image plays through your head of young Americans happily cheering at the sight of a staffed army official showcasing the mechanical marvel to the next generation of patriots.

For now, however, it’s the basement you are looking for, not bad memories, and much to your confusion, you find the old entry hatch in the back of the Science and Space Sector sawn and blasted open. You suppose you can rule out a cordial invitation to entry, but what’s more curious is that it seems someone had replaced the door beforehand, new and glistening motors torn off the rails where they previously worked a featureless panel that to the untrained eye would have appeared utterly indistinguishable from the wall.

Naturally, the inside is a mess, the landing for a flight of stairs covered in splinters and burned detritus before descending into the basement where a modified power generator had had its fusion core pilfered and everything else smashed to bits. You wonder at the supreme waste of it all, until you catch sight of the turrets, some broken and others riddled with bullet holes now rendered thoroughly inactive by the loss of the generator.
>>
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>>1887530


Seems that wasn’t the end of it either. As you swing open a door to what was once a storage room, the husks of at least four protectrons litter the floor along with scraps of paper and odd pieces of technological components. There isn’t enough to draw a complete picture of what they may have gone too, unfortunately, but if the hole someone blasted through three feet of solid concrete and into the sewers toward the back is any indication, this person could clearly create some impressive destructive potential.

That is, assuming it wasn’t the raiders. Still, whatever the case, that just leaves you with a lab that seems to have been stripped down to its concrete foundations. Unless there is something hidden here, everything of value seems to have been carried away.

> Roll 1d100 to search for hidden valuables.
> [] Write-in
>>
Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>1887532
>>
Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>1887532
Is there enough left to re-assemble some working Protectrons?
It sounded like they had one more load to carry.
>>
Could gather the scrap metal, could find a use for that.
>>
Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>1887532
Check those Protectrons and turrets for salvageable circuitry. Maybe we can even use the Protectrons for armor plating.
>>
>>1887530
Why's that raider still breathing? Did Sandra really miss at that range?
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>1887532
maybe some of these scraps are notes? and is there enough of those protectrons to make at least one working one?
>>
>>1887584
further questioning.
>>
>>1887532
>>1887544
>>1887546
>>1887549
>>1887562
>>1887562
>>1887584
>>1887585

> 72

The protectrons appear to have been picked for everything useful, leaving nothing behind but a burned and broken set of skeletons at this point. The turrets on the other hand… By floating off the floor, you manage to pry some of them free of their docking, adding four of the dome-like contraptions to a pile to take with you when you go.

Still, you have the feeling there must be something else worth taking here, and so, you begin examining the room for any outliers. You pick through the remains of a broken shelf, check through an empty tool locker, and turn over loose scraps of paper in an attempt to find anything of value.

Curiously, it seems that everything you find with writing on it doesn’t appear to be written in English. None of the words make sense, and it uses a different alphabet of characters. Perhaps it’s something of European origin, but to make a more educated guess, you are going to need to find something more substantial.

Running out of places to look for that sort of substance, however, you take a moment to think, trying to visualize the lab for what it was rather than trying to analyze the wreckage that was left. What you needed was a location where it would be easy to hide things in a pinch, someplace out of the way and unlikely to be noticed by anyone.

Most people would put such a thing next to their desk, and so, you begin looking for scratch marks, places where a chair had worn away at the floor from continued use. Though faint, you do eventually find some indications of these in the concrete, one in the corner near the destroyed wall and another where the motions were more minimal, maybe a stool at a workbench.

It’s then that you notice something peculiar, more to do with the room than anything, and that would be the matter of drainage. Rooms on the bottom floors of buildings, especially those with hard rock floors, especially those with a large amount of pipes, tended to have drainage grates in the floors to dispose of spilled fluids.

This floor did not have that. However, what it did have was a suspiciously off-kilter piece of concrete in the corner with a chip just barely visible along the wall. Prying that up with your small crowbar proves surprisingly easy, and beneath the square of concrete as you slide it away, is a safe. You are not good with safes.

> What to do…
> [] Try to burn your way through.
> [] Call Sandra down to have a look.
> [] Take the safe with you.
> [] Other
>>
>>1887660
>> [] Call Sandra down to have a look.
She can check if it's rigged with traps before you punch a spike through its locking mechanism.
>>
>>1887660
>> [] Take the safe with you.
Tie it to a long, sturdy pipe and wield it like a super sledge.
>>
>>1887660
>[] Call Sandra down to have a look.
>>
>>1887660
>> [] Call Sandra down to have a look.
Wouldn't be surprised if someone rigged some explosives.
>>
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>>1887797
>>1887707
>>1887683
>>1887680
>>1887660

“Sandra, I need you to take a look at this,” you radio to the PipBoy.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Looks like they missed a safe beneath the floor. The eyebots can keep watch. I need you down here for right now.”

“Alright, alright. Come on, Shadow.”

A few minutes later, the scavenger is downstairs, shaking snow off her coat and peeking down into the floor.

“Looks like an M&M fifth generation with a traditional dial,” she surmises at a glance. “Lucky for us, this series doesn’t have tactile compensation to mess with traditional cracking methods.”

“So, I take it you do this sort of thing often,” you guess as, without another word, your cohort’s head dips into the floor and the dial begins spinning.

“Once or twice,” she responds casually. “Some of the best stuff left out there is in safes after all, or behind locked doors. Never had much of a knack for codes and terminals, but this, I’ve got.”

Even so, it takes her a good, long minute of her flattened against the floor as she tries to find the right combination.

> Give me a 1d100.
>>
Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>1887907
>>
Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>1887907
I guess she's read a couple issues of Tumblers Today.
>>
Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>1887907
I didn't need a puny meatbag to tell me that, b-baka, I'm just incapable of lying down in this frame.
>>
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>>1887907
>>1887913
>>1887922
>>1887931

> 86

Sandra settles into her work with a faint tune, humming the bars of something lively as her hands move with methodical precision. Fred in the meantime has little else to do, and so contents herself sniffing at the sewer entrance as you continue watching the city above.

It’s a peaceful morning in the post-apocalypse, the clear skies all the better to observe the pseudo-avian horrors prowling in the distance. Fortunately, their preoccupation is with mirelurks, not small machines floating on the rooftops, and so you chance climbing a little higher onto some nearby roofs to get a better look at the surrounding cityscape.

From atop a four-story apartment building seconds later, you can spy mushers down by the river to the west with ease, a different band than what you had encountered earlier, this one consisting of three teams all racing up the banks going north. Perhaps they were making their way toward the bridge, you reason. You can also spy the occasional plume of smoke in various directions, some corresponding with the settlements you had noted from the bridge a few nights previous.

In the end, however, it winds up being Shadow that tips you off, the dog’s nose turning before he barks upwind to the north. There, in all white and some couple of blocks away, is a group of what are now unmistakably human that had evaded your notice, their black ski masks and goggles almost the only thing visible as they bob gently against the white background.

> Well, shit…
> [] Tell Sandra to hurry. You are about to have company.
> [] Attempt to haul Sandra and safe upstairs. You need to go.
> [] Forget the safe for now. Cover it back up and leave.
> [] Other
>>
>>1888065
>> [] Tell Sandra to hurry. You are about to have company.
Grab anything valuable from the truck and rig it to blow. By which I mean don't do anything to it yet.
>>
>>1888065
> [] Tell Sandra to hurry. You are about to have company.

>>1888077
Can't we just drive the truck away?
>>
>>1888065
>[] Tell Sandra to hurry. You are about to have company.
>Other: Check out databanks for any files on how to drive a Jeep using the DAVID body.
Also have Fred play around in the snow outside the entrance, and spread some blood around.
If these guys turn out to be Raiders, they'll think twice when all they see if Deathclaw footprints, clawmarks and fresh blood.

No need to waste bullets and energy cells if we can scare them off. For now.
>>
>>1888103
The DAVID body is smaller than a kid, and Sandra is unlikely to know how to drive.
>>
>>1888103
We aren't going anywhere fast on post-apocalyptic city roads. Besides, it's unstable and noisy.
>>
>>1888110
>>1888121
How about we teach Fred how to drive the jeep?
>>
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>>1888121
>>1888103
>>1888110

The jeep is actually a rather rugged vehicle, and from what you could tell, has a more stable power source than the typical ball of explosions. It's possible this was a military grade vehicle before it got raider-ified.

The bigger issue may very well be a lack of a qualified driver. I will say though (>>1888130) I am fully in support of this plan.
>>
>>1888065
>>1888077
>>1888103
>>1888106

“Sandra, we’ve gotta hurry,” you relay. “We might have company inbound.”

“Great. Just, fucking peachy…” she mutters, and with that, she begins moving noticeably more quickly.

Whether that will be quick enough is anyone’s guess. At least you manage to calm Shadow down and get him inside before he draws an exceptional amount of notice, the soon-to-be visitors plodding along at their previous rate as Sandra keeps fumbling with the lock.

The swears grow more colorful as the seconds tick by into minutes and the lock remains closed, the handle seeming to mock her attempts with an overly generous amount of play that continually ends in a hard stop and failure. You offer reassurances, rather than forcing the impending nature of her deadline, mentally counting the blocks they are away from the truck against how long it will take you to get back to it. Fortunately, just as you are about to give up on the venture entirely, the safe finally gives that glorious sounds of tumblers fully disengaging, the contents within revealed to be…

Paper, books, and little else.

Sandra swears, but you just start scooping, throwing everything into your backpack as you get the newly enabled eyebots to begin sorting out the severed connections from your earlier ministrations to the vehicle, but the real question is: should you try to flee?

> What to do…
> [] Try to get Sandra to drive out of here. Don’t take chances.
> [] They could be friendly or uninterested. Sort this out diplomatically.
> [] Get back upstairs and ready for a fight. Be ready to shoot first if they draw.
> [] Other
>>
>>1888190
>[] They could be friendly or uninterested. Sort this out diplomatically.
Have an Eyebot and Fred ready to burst out of a side building if they turn hostile. Have 1 Eyebot stick with Sandra. The other Eyebot stays up on top of a building to give us some cover fire.

Have Sandra set up that machine gun and her shield, get in cover, and negotiate from a position of strength.
>>
>>1888190
>> [] They could be friendly or uninterested. Sort this out diplomatically.
Pretty much what >>1888199 suggests.
>>
>>1888190
> [] They could be friendly or uninterested. Sort this out diplomatically
>>
>>1888190
Does it look like we have the time to pop the Jeep into Neutral and push it into a more sheltered position?
>>
>>1888190
>> [] Get back upstairs and ready for a fight. Be ready to shoot first if they draw.
We've taken enough bullets to the chest from introductions. This crowd could double our haul if they're friends with the meatbag we killed.
>>
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>>1888211
>>1888209
>>1888206
>>1888202
>>1888199
>>1888190

“I’m guessing you aren’t keen on learning to drive with people shooting at us,” you conjecture on your hurried way back up.

“Not really, no.”

“Then, I’m going to need you to grab that machine gun and get ready to take cover. We don’t know if these people mean us harm, but better safe than sorry.”

Sandra raises no objections and slings the machine gun strap over one shoulder, grabbing her riot shield with her free hand as she takes additional cover near an alleyway. You grab a shield, but not full cover as you move to shore up the sidewalk, instructing Fred to chase after one of your eyebots as you lead her on a circuit to flank them and elevate your other two into over watch positions.

Two blocks to go, and now you play the waiting game to see what they will do. On the plus side, if they are with the Lurkers, they would have to know by now that you aren’t their guys, and the lag of hot metal flying in your direction as a result is heartening. Still, you wait.

It can’t be a pleasant thing for your fleshy companion from the way she shivers out in the cold, holding her position. It only occurs to you then how amazing an environmental regulation suit would have been, but you let it pass as the distance closes to one block. A little closer and they will be in Fred’s range.

Curiously, however, that’s where they choose to stop, the person in the lead waving one arm in your direction, but not otherwise moving to approach.

> What to do…
> [] Try shouting at them upwind.
> [] Send an eyebot over.
> [] Other
>>
>>1888276
>> [] Send an eyebot over.
>>
>>1888276
>[] Try shouting at them upwind.
"Hello there! Please identify yourselves!"
>>
>>1888276
>> [] Try shouting at them upwind.
You can't identify their genders from here, can you?
>>
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>>1888276
>>1888295
>>1888297
>>1888326

“Don’t come any closer!” you shout upwind. “We aren’t raiders! We’re just scavengers!”

The person at the forefront, maybe a man if you zoom in close enough, cups a hand to his ear, indicating that he can’t hear.

“Identify yourselves!” you shout, seemingly to no avail. “Identify your-“

The man, seemingly tired of this, reaches down to his waist, but rather than produce a fire arm, he retrieves a black box from his belt and lightly tosses it down in the snow in front of him before walking away. Naturally, you wait a couple of minutes for the explosion, but there’s none forthcoming. It’s just a black box, though closer examination reveals an antenna and speaker, a radio.

> Well, that’s bizarre.
> [] Go retrieve it.
> [] Have one of the hand eye bots retrieve it.
> [] Leave it. It might be a trap.
> [] Other
>>
>>1888372
>> [] Have one of the hand eye bots retrieve it.
>>
>>1888372
>[] Go retrieve it.
>>
>>1888372
>> [] Other
Aren't your eyebots all radio equipped? Open hailing frequencies.
>>
>>1888372
> [] Have one of the hand eye bots retrieve it.
>>
>>1888372
>>1888379
>>1888380
>>1888384
>>1888400

I think I'll leave off here for tonight, folks. Hope you are having fun thus far, and we'll pick up tomorrow.
>>
>>1888384
>>1888372
We can probably determine what the signal that radio is connected to from here and just adjust and piggyback off it to talk instead of potentially falling for a trap
>>
>>1888464
Supporting
>>
>>1888464
Yes, but do we want show our overwhelming technological superiority?

What if these are Brotherhood of Steel, and they want to take our advanced technology?
>>
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>>1888372
>>1888379
>>1888380
>>1888384
>>1888400
>>1888464
>>1888542
>>1888717

You are going to have to get a closer look at the radio, but from here, at least, it appears to be an old military surplus model. Assuming that they didn’t tinker with the inside, there should still be a fixed list of hailing frequencies you can go through to try to achieve contact with whoever is holding onto the other end.

In the end, you get close enough to read the serial number, but don’t touch the radio itself, running the information through your data base before you find an adequate frequency range and decryption algorithm that should work. No telling if it will work, but one thing is certain, you can only start a conversation once.

> What to say…
> [] Wait for now.
> [] Write-in
>>
>>1889094
>Write-in
"Hello. Please identify yourselves."
>>
>>1889094
"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the rain that cancels your hit parade! I am the Silver Shroud! Identify yourselves, and whether you be friend or foe."
>>
>>1889112
Maybe use a made up name as to who/what we trully are.
>>
>>1889137
We could go with the Silver Shroud, but it's a lot more likely that humans will think we're making fun of them for it.

Maybe use the name and voice of someone who was on our development team?
>>
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>>1889149
>>1889137
>>1889136
>>1889112
>>1889094

“Alright,” you say, dialing in the frequency displayed on the radio and shifting your voice a couple of octaves. “Let’s do this.”

“Hello,” you speak through the open channel. “I don’t know who this is, but please, identify yourself.”

A long moment passes in radio silence before the push-to-talk on the other end kicks in.

“Ah, shit,” comes a voice on the opposite end of the line, amidst the crackle. “Didn’t catch most o’ that. Robbie, this you? You make contact, yet?”

“This isn’t Robbie,” you confirm for the person on the other end of the line. “I’m guessing Robbie’s the one who left this radio so I could call you. So, who is this?”

“No shit?” he questions quietly. “You know what. Give me a sec. Told that moron not to lose my damn radio! Things don’t grow on trees.” You hear the sound of scruff being scratched and things toppling over before the depression of an inhaler depressing and a deep sigh. “Ahhh! Fuck! That’s better!”

The added bit of breathlessness and constricted muscles does the trick as the voice id matches perfectly.

“Is this Johnnie?” you ask.

“Huh? Shit… That’s my line, ain’t it? Or was it yours? Guess it doesn’t matter too much in the grand scheme o’ things. I’m guessing since I’m speaking to you, though, Beth’s already been buried.”

> What to do…
> [] She deserved it.
> [] It was self-defense.
> [] Other
>>
>>1889253
> [] Other
"Yes. Nothing she wouldn't have done to me if the situation were reversed. And something you knew would happen, if what some of your subordinates believe is correct."

Tell Sandra that it's the Lurkers, and to be careful. Have our Eyebots switch to infrared to watch out for a surprise attack.
>>
>>1889253
>Other
"I'm sorry, but I will need my previous query answered before I offer more information."
Start using using the transceivers on both our body and the eyebots to stay triangulating the location of this other party.
>>
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>>1889273
>>1889262
>>1889253

“It’s nothing she wouldn’t have done to me if the situation were reversed, and from the sound of things, you saw it coming.” You explain the situation to Sandra and keep your eyebots in an alert position while isolating the call. “So, is it true what some of your subordinates seem to believe, that you’re some sort of psychic?”

“You know, I told her from day one that the day she left my detail, death was gonna be comin’ for her. She’d meet her end in a hall of history, impaled by an angel with a flamin’ sword, and that’d be that.”

“You expect me to believe that?” you scoff, trying to bait him into talking more as you adjust your eyebots to begin triangulating his signal, “that you saw this coming right down to the weapon?”

“Huh?” he questions. “I don’t expect you to believe anything, lady. Never been any good at convincin’ people, and just seems like a waste o’ time, anyway, when most of ‘em end up ignoring my advice.”

“So, why the call?” you ask. “You want your jeep back?”

“Not for me,” he clarifies with an air of disinterest, “but Sis’ll be a lot less pissed at ya if ya just leave it where ya found it. Beth was already turnin’ into a pain in her privates, if ya take my meaning, and Randy was a real sleaze. If ya’d leave Davy, though, he ain’t a bad guy. Of course, he wouldn’t make a bad farmer, either.”

The more you move around, the more the area of triangulation shrinks. If you aren’t off the mark, he’s in one of those big building less than a mile up the street, but what can you do with that info?

> What to say…
> [] Ask for a prediction.
> [] Ask what he wants.
> [] Other
>>
>>1889253
> [] She deserved it.
Lousy kill stealer.
>>
>>1889324
> [] Ask what he wants.
> Other: ask for a prediction of his sister. Does he see her turning her life around? Or will electro-luminescent eyes be coming for her?
>>
>>1889324
>but what can you do with that info?
You could head there next and look for clues?
> Of course, he wouldn’t make a bad farmer, either.
He wouldn't make bad fertilizer either. (Don't repeat that.)
> [] Ask what he wants.
>>
>>1889324
What are you offering in exchange, because I will not part with it for nothing.
We could always fuck up the car and drag the loot on our own.
>>
>>1889353
The Keep has a fully intact and military-grade ruggedized fusion power core. Imagine how many of Jeremy's friends it could power. It's very valuable, and may be worth killing for.
>>
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>>1889324
>>1889331
>>1889347
>>1889350
>>1889353

“So, what will you give me for one mint condition raider and your jeep back?” you ask. “It’d be a lot of trouble to unpack and reload everything, and a hazard to my health to leave someone who could id me, later.”

“Afraid I can’t offer much,” he admits. “Keepin’ myself in medicine’s expensive, and I think I made the benefits you could reap for yourself pretty clear. Trust me when I say you’ve got plenty of enemies ahead of ya, and ya don’t need to be in a rush to get more.”

“That a threat?”

“No, just a prediction,” he assures you. “Consider that one on the house.”

“So, why bother contacting me at all? Just trying to be helpful?”

“Ya know, could be that I’m tryin’ to keep ya talkin’ long enough for the boys to get there from the base.” You internally curse. “But that ain’t it right now. Just lookin’ for my own answers, I guess ya could say.”

“Such as?”

“Say I told ya Davy there is a good kid, and a real chicken shit with the trigger. Suppose I tell ya, he ain’t never shot anyone, that he was born on the Lurker base back when it wasn’t the Lurkers and we just kept him around cuz he had a good back and an even temper? What then?”

> How to respond…
> [] “He’s going to face due process.”
> [] “I’ll leave you guys to sort that out.”
> [] Kill the raider.
> [] Other
>>
>>1889414
> [] “He’s going to face due process.”
> Other: So will the other Lurkers if they surrender peacefully.
>>
>>1889414
While he's doing this, can we have our Eyebots patrol and find the Lurker group he sent?
>>
>>1889414
I don't quite understand what he's trying to do here. As he said we'll get more enemies as we grow in power, we only don't know their names yet. Taking the jeep for ourselves would only have one of those unknow enemies step into the light.
Will it make things difficult for us in the short/long term, maybe but it'll come to blow soon enough whether we do it or not.
>>
>>1889414
>> [] “He’s going to face due process.”
Which he wouldn't get back on the Lurker base.
Now git before I commence the redistribution of health.
>>
>>1889494
I think he's saying that in the short term it would be better to leave the Jeep so that the Lurkers are not an immediate and active threat that would go out of their way to attack us. Right now we just got rid of two troublemakers for the Lurker's leader, so as long as we give the Jeep back he can argue her down to just shooting us on sight. If we take the Jeep, the Lurkers will actively hunt for us. Something that we may not be prepared to handle, and Johnnie's psychic abilities might lead them to our mainframe.
>>
>>1889414
>>1889478
>>1889486
>>1889494
>>1889525
>>1889542

“He’s going to face due process,” you inform him. “I suspect that’s better than what he would get back on the base, anyway.”

“Won’t say you’re wrong there,” Johnnie concedes. “A lot less bullets and knives, I’d wager.”

“And does that answer your questions?”

“Time’ll answer my questions,” he assures you. “For now, though, it’d be best if ya got goin’. Ya see, I was only half-tellin’ the truth on not scramblin’ the boys.”

Eyebots are not a perfect observation conduit, far from an eye in the sky, and as a jeep comes screaming out of an alley eight blocks away, it’s rear occupants carrying what are very reminiscent of RPGs, you suspect being on the scene when they arrive might be a bad idea.

> Well, shit…
> [] Grab what you can and throw it in the sled. You’ve gotta go, now!
> [] Forget the junk in the back. You’ve got the contents of the safe. Grab Dave and go.
> [] You’re going to make enemies of these guys sooner or later. Steal the damn Jeep.
> [] Other
>>
>>1889594
>> [] You’re going to make enemies of these guys sooner or later. Steal the damn Jeep.
>>
>>1889594
>> [] You’re going to make enemies of these guys sooner or later. Steal the damn Jeep.
They're gonna wish they had waited their turn in line, for the Silver Shroud sweeps over all evildoers!
>>
>>1889594
>> [X] Grab what you can and throw it in the sled. You’ve gotta go, now!
>>
To Jeep or not to Jeep, that is the question. I'll leave this one open a little while longer and grab some dinner.
>>
>>1889763
One thing's for sure, we'll better suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune within an armored vehicle.
>>
>>1889763
We Jeep! Jeep!!
>>
>>1889594
> [] Grab what you can and throw it in the sled. You’ve gotta go, now!

Okay, just going to say, this has less to do with making nice with the Lurkers, and more to do with not having anyone who immediately knows how to drive, and a need to get out of her really quick.
>>
>>1889594
> [] Other
Have our Eyebots shoot the meat bags from the rooftops while we point Fred towards them and order "kill" so that she slams into them from the side. Better we take them out as far away from the museum as we can, or at least thin their numbers.
>>
>>1889631
>>1889653
>>1889784
I agree with not letting go of this prize, but are you sure you want someone to try to drive this thing, rather than having a Deathclaw plow into the side of a vehicle from an alleyway, and see Fred tear these raiders apart?
>>
>>1889925
Why not both? We're not all going to fit in the jeep, and they'll be able to track it down. We can attempt to lead the raiders into an ambush.
>>
>>1889929
Sandra is already in a spot with good cover and our Eyebots can shoot from the rooftops.

If Fred needs extra time to reposition then I'll agree to using the Jeep to lead them into an ambush, but I'd rather hit them before they get to the museum if we can and not risk the first Jeep crashing into something.
>>
>>1889594

Alright. So, here are the tallies as I see them.

>>1889631
>>1889784

Steal the Jeep. Flee the scene.


>>1889661
>>1889833

Load the sled. Flee the scene.

>>1889895
>>1889653

Try to kill the raiders coming after you, and then steal the jeep.

So, we're kind of at a three way tie, and I feel that as QM it might be a good idea to offer a bit of candid analysis. Essentially what you have here are levels of risk and reward in three different flavors.

> Flee by sled: The raiders probably won't care enough to follow you. No roll required, but you lose a lot of valuable loot.
> Flee by jeep: The raiders will probably pursue to try to get their vehicle back. You will have to roll to evade their pursuit long enough to shake them without a qualified driver. However, the payoff would be the entire truckload of valuables and the truck itself.
> Fight the raiders: I tried to emphasize that these raiders that are inbound are well-equipped and well-armored. They are ready for a fight, and you may lose something valuable if you don't roll exceptionally well. You stand to gain a tremendous amount here, basically all of the above plus whatever they are carrying, but it is not a safe option.

I'm not saying this to sway your decision, but I feel that it -is- fair to emphasize that things could take a sour turn if the dice don't favor you.

> That said, new vote:
> [] Flee with the sled.
> [] Flee with the jeep.
> [] Get ready and take down the raiders.
>>
>>1890119
> [] Flee with the jeep.
Fine, I'll switch to the jeep. I guess we could always ditch it later if we need to, and they'd probably prioritize it rather then chasing us.
>>
>>1890119
Flee with the jeep it is, then.
>>
>>1890119
> [] Flee with the jeep.
I really want to kill these raiders, but I guess we're not quite ready yet.
>>
>>1890119
> [X] Flee with the jeep.
>>
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>>1890170
>>1890167
>>1890165
>>1890135
>>1890119

Alright. Time to get dangerous, then.

> Roll 1d100.

> Specify strategy, if any. And note:
> SARA knows the basics of motor vehicle operation. She has never driven. Nor can she reach the pedals.
> Sandra know nothing about driving (probably), but could probably ably accomplish the task from a physical perspective.
> Shadow is a doggo.
> Fred is Fred.
>>
Just, next time, can we prepare our own ambush? I want to kill all of these raiders and rip Johnnie's brain out and give it to Vault 29 to be robobrained.
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>1890196
Shadow, Sandra, and the DAVID unit get in the Jeep. Sandra drives, SARA gives instructions and is the side gunner.

Two of the Eyebots will shoot at the Raiders from the rooftops as the third Eyebot leads Fred to a place where she can do a hit and run from the side on the raider Jeep.
>>
Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>1890196
Ride away from Lurker territory, hope they give up the chase or that friendlier forces scare them off.
SARA, give Sandra a crash course in vehicle operation. Work the fiddly bits like the clutch for her. Shadow gets in the back, Fred follows an eyebot down a different route.
>>
Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>1890196
> Have SARA sit next to Sandra and keep a hand on the wheel to help her steer, maybe switch gears for her.
Try our best to get to a straight path, and then weave for projectile avoidance until we're out of range, then gun it.
>>
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>>1890251
>>1890244
>>1890218
>>1890196

> 95

“Faye, we’ve got the Lurkers inbound!” you shout. “Get your ass in the driver’s seat, pronto! I’m going to have to teach you how to drive.”

“What about-?”

The shocks screech a half-second later as you throw the sled over the trunk area and begin latching it down into place. Visibility be damned. The only way you are going to need to see is forward.

“Like I was saying, what about you!?” she demands.

“I,” you say, still snapping down supports as you have an eyebot begin leading Fred away. “Have tiny legs.”

You whirl around and crank the key, then, the smooth turnover of the electric engine taking a few grams off the ten tons of pressure on top of you as your eyebots assure you the other vehicle is getting close.

“Right pedal, go. Left pedal, slow. Keep your hands on the wheel and try not to ram us into anything, alright?”

“What about-?”

She gestures to the automatic transmission, thank god, and after getting her to hammer on the brake, you pop it into drive.

“Now, go!” you command.

“Are you-?”

“GO!” you shout as the raiders break out onto the same street.

Of course, they’d catch sight of you. Why wouldn’t they as the car roars to life and digs into the ground with a spray of snow. However, just as you’re beginning to fear it’s going to stall out and pre-emptively end the chance, it hits something solid, firing off the asphalt and down the road with a lurch as Sandra panickily tries to figure out how to steer this alien device.
>>
>>1890450

Granted, a snow-covered road in the middle of a Seattle winter isn’t anyone’s dream in learning to drive, but it’s literally now or never as you go plummeting over a hill and down the other side, a horn honking a couple hundred feet behind you presumably telling you to stop. There went warning one.

Warning two is apparently machine gun fire and comes half a second later as Sandra desperately pulls left to avoid a stop sign, their bullets digging into the brickwork above you and releasing a spray of dust and stone as Shadow skitters around in the backseat over the unconscious man’s body.

At the very least, now you were going at a good clip, even if it felt like you were on a boat in the middle of the stormy sea, the road curving but unobstructed as the surrounding buildings blur with your increasing momentum. That meant you could do your part now, as you mount the seat and lock in your legs, pulling out the machine gun and taking aim at the crest of the hill.

A split second later, they fly up the other side, and you open fire, seeing the sparks on their metal grill as the snow behind you and buildings to all sides explode into powder. Armor piercing rounds, you think, but you’d prefer not to confirm that firsthand as you switch targets from the motor to the tires, unable to confirm the shots at this distance in the flurry of ducking and weaving you have to do.

It would be hard enough if it was just the other gunman, hard enough if Sandra wasn’t hitting every pothole on the goddamn road, but you’re also trying to navigate amidst it all, giving the rookie instructions to follow through the battered streets of Georgetown, making snap decisions to avoid obstructed roads and trying to gain enough space to make a clean break away on the old airfield.

However, before you can put that plan into action, it seems your enemy runs out of patience. A woman with a helmet that looks like it was pulled from a robot then beaten into the shape of her skull pulls herself up in the backseat, and all you need to see is the tube to begin screaming at Sandra.

“Sandra, pull right!” you shout. “PULL RIGHT!”

The vehicle gives a violent lurch as it nearly goes tumbling over sideways. For a second, you can see the ground a foot from your face, one hand lashing out to take hold of Shadow and force him back in as you begin pitching back the other way.

*BOOM*

The last thing you see as you turn the hard corner is the plume of smoke that follows the fireball of a multiple story house collapsing, a wave of ruin chasing after you as you get a clear view of the airfield and urge Sandra to jump the fence.

“Think that lost them?” she asks.

For a moment, you dare to hope. You almost dare to confirm it, but an oddly shaped dust cloud ruins everything as a pair of angry headlights flash through it, and the chase resume. At least now, you have some distance.

> Roll 1d100
> Specify strategy
>>
Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>1890458
Doubt we can hit the tires with our eyebots, bet thing would be to have them crash around a corner, if we could have Fred place a car in the path, or destroy a wall to throw debris in their way.
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>1890458
In the interest of avoiding further inexpert maneuvering, steer for the open ground of the airstrip as you prepare to return fire.
>>
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Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>1890458
> Specify strategy
See pic provided.
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>1890458

Im going to back this guy >>1890482
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>1890458
Think we'd be strong enough to pitch one of those thermite bombs to go off in their path?
>>
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>>1890571
>>1890545
>>1890525
>>1890482
>>1890481
>>1890458

> 93

Might as well not let that advantage go to waste as you order Sandra to floor it. In the end, it won’t give you the cover you need to block a rocket, but it might give you additional time to veer off-course. Speaking of which…

“LEFT!” you shout to Sandra, the car fishtailing with the motion as an explosion rocks where you would have been a second later. “And get ready! We’re about to do something crazy.”

They’re gaining on you, that much is clear, and the turn brought you almost around to face the exact opposite way you were heading before. You don’t have the time to spare turning back again. So, you go with the only logical decision.

“We’re gonna rush them.”

“Are you fucking crazy!”

“JUST DO IT!” you roar, and by instinct, she complies.

You can almost see it from here, the brief moment of confusion on their faces giving way to bloodlust as you order Sandra to duck and take the wheel yourself. The more important factor is that the person with the rocket launcher switches it out for a machine gun as you raise your shield and watch the MPH climb to inadvisable levels on your speedometer.

The bullets rain as you charge in, for all intents and purposes a sitting duck on a collision course with their vehicle. However, you are a robot, and unlike them, there isn’t any adrenaline to get to your head. You just watch, wait, and then at the last moment, when the time is right, your molten spike tears through the supports still tying your sled to the top of the car.

They don’t see what’s coming until it’s too late as you swerve out of the way at the last second, the curve of the mirelurk shell swinging into their path just as you leave it and leaving them no time to correct course. The result in that instant is guaranteed, a simple matter of applying Newton’s law as they go flying off the road in a corkscrew and begin plowing down the runway.

The scream and shriek of metal in that moment is horrifying, the human voices all but lost in the din as weapons no doubt fly from hands desperately tucked down for safety. However, you have the feeling that left to their own devices, they’ll be back up and fighting again in no time.

> What to do…
> [] Burn them and the vehicle. Scorched earth.
> [] Open fire as soon as they show themselves.
> [] Try diplomacy. Maybe they’ll surrender.
>>
>>1890729
>> [] Burn them and the vehicle. Scorched earth.
Any weapons that survive the fire are a bonus. Any raiders that survive are a loose end.
>>
>>1890729
Whatever wins we need to get the jeep under some cover as the explosion might have lured something big, like last time.
>>
>>1890729
>> [] Open fire as soon as they show themselves.
>>
>>1890729
>> [X] Open fire as soon as they show themselves.
Might as well get additional loot.
>>
>>1890729
>> [X] Open fire as soon as they show themselves.
>>
>try diplomacy
It's never too late to repent.
>>
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>>1890816
>>1890783
>>1890773
>>1890745
>>1890875
>>1890729
>>1890915

It seems waiting on them to come out and then opening fire is winning. That said:

> Roll 1d100
> Specify strategy
>>
I'd rather jump out of the car and finish them with a spike between the eyes before feeding them to Fred.
>>
>>1890925
You again.
We can't feed humans to Fred because she may think it's ok to eat humans and attack someone we don't want her to.
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>1890924
Does "not waiting and using infrared sight to identify our targets" count as strategy?
>>1890936
Wrong.
>>
Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>1890925
Stop trying to feed Fred humans.

Do you want us to be held responsible if she mauls someone at Wilma's? I don't.

>>1890924
(rolls)
>>
>>1890936
It's an apex predator, everything she attacks is a potential meal.
She's already maimed humans and it won't be long before she get a taste.
Better train her to eat the humans we point her too than her going on a hunt and having a snack at some brahmin herder's expense or something.
>>
Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>1890924
Put down both ours and Sandra's shields in between our Jeep and theirs to protect us/our Jeep.

Use aimed fire on the raiders and avoid hitting their Jeep, just make them keep their heads down while we guide Fred to attack them from the side.
>>
>>1890941
I would think the car would be pretty hot, too hot to see through using infrared.
>>1890963
Or we can try and feed her properly like a good owner? It's not like we will be eating up any food we get.
>>
>>1890925
I think they're far enough away that they could line up a shot on us if we ran at them.
>>
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>>1890924
>>1890941
>>1891022
>>1890953

> 94

You don’t want to wreck the other vehicle if you don’t have to, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to let your guard down. Fortunately, you can move plenty fast without a jeep when you need to, leading you to blast off immediately at the enemy vehicle as you order Sandra to take range.

The weight of your shield as you do so makes you feel lopsided, but you’re nevertheless thankful for it as your increased altitude brings you right in the line of fire of a pissed off raider, one already clear of the wreckage if still on the ground as she fires a rocket in a line straight for you. In response, you move immediately, using the weight of the shield as a fulcrum to move your body out of the way and create an angle for deflection for the incoming projectile, the rocket spinning away into the air before exploding behind you.

However, you don’t have time to look back, and she doesn’t have time to load another rocket round before you’ve blasted her clear in the head with your laser pistol. With the guts of the machine exposed, you no longer want to risk the machine gun, but the woman is no ghoul. She also seems to have lost her helmet somewhere in the scuffle, making the flesh on her head easy prey for super-charged radiation.

She screams and dies as you move on, touching down on the ground near the jeep as your infrared turns up nothing but an orangey blob of heat on the ground. Figures, just like it figures that the other raiders would learn from their ally’s mistake, hunkering down in the vehicle as you each contemplate your next move.

Metal shrieks as they come to their conclusion a moment later and the downed machine vacates its resting spot, the entire mass tilting up and over toward you at a remarkable speed. However, you aren’t about to get in a shoving match with these people. You simply dodge sideways and pump a shotgun round into the nearest face you see, ringing the bell of a man in combat armor before sending his female companion stumbling back with shrapnel in her chest plate.

They roar and you roar as the stakes become crystal clear and the tricks run out, all four feet of you standing off against all four of them in a battle to the death. There will be no survivors. You just hope you can hold out until Fred and the others make their way back around.

> Roll 1d100
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>1891166
Well, shit.
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>1891166
>>
Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>1891166
It's ok, stomping and blasting time.
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>1891166
Dakka dakka dakka!
>>
>>1891247
>>1891211
>>1891203
>>1891179
>>1891166

> 71

A flamer, a machine gun, a magnum, you don’t have time to worry about what they’re wielding as you open fire and so do they, your shield growing uncomfortably warm and denting noticeably in several places within the first few seconds of the exchange.

The DAVID unit is strong, of course, but not invincible. Even with the added plating, you know that you have to take your shots with the sound of their reloads, move your feet to avoid them getting a lock on your limbs. Even then, your opponents aren’t amateurs.

They’ve been addled by a car crash, sure. They’ve been bloodied and bruised, but that was just the life here in the wasteland. Before you even notice, the Lurkers are fully on their feet and forcing you to give ground, making you deal in tradeoffs as they fan out to exploit your greatest weakness: that there are more of them than there is of you.

It’s enough to make you laugh, but there’s nothing funny here. The combat shotgun isn’t getting through their armor and the servos in your shield arm are about to overheat. That leaves only one option.

In one swift motion, you lose it all: shotgun, shield, and a grenade from your belt, all of them flying at a different merc, distracting them for the brief instant you need to slam your Burning Finger through the last one’s thigh and then flip around to drive it through his heart.

His death is as absolute as it is sudden, but his allies aren’t ones to dote on sentiment. It takes them less than a second to parse what just happened and begin blowing your human shield to bits, blood cascading down on top of you and your leg motors and jets going into overdrive as you punch all the way through your grizzly bulwark and straight into the gut of another merc.

The remaining two probably think they have you in that moment, your back coming away fully exposed. However, you are a machine. You don’t make mistakes, and before they can even pull the trigger, Fred has arrived, a blur made of scale and teeth that sends one person flying and terrifies the other long enough for you to drive your superheated metal through her skull.

Not one to leave a task unfinished, the eyebots then descend on the last down the runway, burning trough the armor at various weak points before their dazed victim has a chance to recover.

> Five raiders dead, and you are only slightly on fire…
> [] Try to radio that asshole back.
> [] Search the bodies.
> [] Fuck all of that. You need someone to buy one of these stupid things off you. Fast.
> [] Other
>>
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>>1891345
>[] Search the bodies.
>[x] Other: put out the fires
No taunting. At least, not yet. After we've reconnected with the DHS building and its protectors, after we've upgraded ourselves and built an army.

Then, we can be confident.
>>
>>1891345
>> [X] Search the bodies.
>>[X] Maybe see if there is something we can easily strip off the other vehicle if we have room?
[X] Radio the guy
>>
>>1891368
I'd rather not let him know we survived. Sure, he'll probably already know because he's a psychic, but on the off chance he doesn't see us, I don't want to let him know what's coming.
>>
>>1891345
>> [] Search the bodies.
>[x] Other: put out the fires
>Fred gets scritches, yes she does.
>>
>>1891345
>> [] Search the bodies.
Clean up. Put out all the fires you can, get away from any you can't before they explode. Consider dropping your meatbag friends off somewhere safe (our outpost entrance? the diner?) before driving the van someplace radioactive to sort through the loot and stash the vehicle where only the bald and foolish would dare go. The bloodbug lake?
Do not waste your time boasting to raiders. Their extermination can resume once you have cleared some room in your task queue.
>>
>>1891443
About driving: we should look for something to use as a booster seat and to put on our feet to allow us to reach the pedals.

Maybe something like the boots from the dead and their armor.

I know this keeps on delaying our trip to the DHS, but maybe we should take one of the Jeeps to Jeremy, so that he can extract its fusion core to power the facility, and set up the turrets?
Or would that attract too much attention?

Someplace protected by radiation is probably the better option; radiation can't be killed with guns like Bloodbugs can, and the Jeep is valuable enough that the Lurkers would expend ammo and bodies to get it back.
>>
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>>1891734
>>1891443
>>1891395
>>1891391
>>1891368
>>1891360
>>1891345

You disengage the molten spike, and let it fall hissing into the snow of the now silent runway, idly noting that the light feeling you are experiencing is because part of your casing appears to have melted away. You’d attend to that later. The same went for the bodies gathered all around you now. Something more important had to be addressed first.

“Fred~” you call sweetly, the death claw turning away from the merc she’s sniffing to look at you expectantly.

“Who’s a good girl?” you ask. “Who’s a good girl?”

Fred hopes that it’s her as she walks in and accepts your neck scratches with a series of chirps, her tail happily thumping against the ground as you pull a treat out of your backpack and reward her for a job well done.

From there, it’s down to body business, Sandra bringing the jeep back around as you stoop over the bodies you’ve collected in a neat line. Two women, three men, all in excellent armor despite their unique aesthetic alterations.

Some of said armor is combat armor, clearly standard issue from before the war, but others appear to have been molded from aircraft grade metals, one even made of several layers similar to some of the earlier style Japanese feudal armors. Seems innovation may not be dead, but it could very well be working backward from the looks of things.

They have grenades as well, an average of two per person. Combined, their firearm arsenal includes a combat shotgun, a magnum, a pair of revolvers, a machine gun, a missile launcher, and more curiously, what appears to be an experimental plasma based pistol, which you set aside with special care.

Seems the second jeep took mostly superficial damage, with your own suffering little more than a shattered windshield and perforated hood. The second will need a paint job and some scrap metal to repair the roll cage, but afterward, should be mostly back to full condition.

The real question was where to take these now that you had them. You really hadn’t thought that far.

There was always Jeremy, the kindly old RobCo machine. With some doing, he might even be able to turn these fusion cars into an umbilical generator for some of his protectrons. Then again, would he want the additional heat and the possibility of a raider assault brought back down on his head. Would anyone?

Well, then again, maybe the Metro or the Brotherhood would pay some serious barter for these intact machines. It might even net you that old SARA rig Rex said they’d recovered.

> Decisions, decisions…
> [] Jeremy
> [] The Metro
> [] The Brotherhood
> [] Other
>>
>>1891791
The Brotherhood is the one that has the SARA rig, right?

>[x] Brotherhood
They're one of the few groups that could stand up to the Lurkers, and from what we've heard, they're an alright bunch.

I want to give it to Jeremy, but until the defenses of his building are repaired, or the Lurkers significantly weakened, he can't handle an assault like that, so we should cover our tracks between us and him.
>>
>>1891791
> [] The Brotherhood
Let's be honest here. The brotherhood are the only ones who can actually afford to have the targets painted on their backs that these vehicles will bring them.

Not to mention giving it to the brotherhood will earn us some serious cred with them.

I don't really see any other option. Neither Jeremy nor likely the Metro can afford the kind of heat these will bring down on them.

Only problem is gonna be trying to get the Brotherhood to trade technology for technology. Given how they are a bunch of greedy tech hoarders. That is going to be the hard part.

Well that and making sure they don't try to absorb us into their organization or destroy us if they can't. They don't mind using advanced technology nor taking it by force. They just can't stand the thought of others doing the same.
>>
>>1891828

The Metro has the SARA rig, to clarify. Apparently some guy won it off a casino owner in a card game. That's not to say the Brotherhood might not have SARA tech amalgamated.
>>
>>1891791
>The Metro.
>>
>>1891791
>The Metro
>>
>>1891791
>> [] The Metro
>>
>>1891791
>>1891828
>>1891835
Oh, then switch me to the Metro.
But just to be clear, I'm only willing to trade one Jeep. The other one I want to keep for a rainy day/we need a fast means of escape/to give to Jeremy once the Lurkers are cut down enough that he can fend off any attack from them.
>>
>>1891791
>> [X] The Metro
>>
>>1891791
SARA rig? What's that? is it an Assaultron mod like PAM's chassis?
Take them to the Metro or the Brotherhood, whichever one had this 'SARA rig'. One has a vested interest in military hardware and the other has demonstrated practical automotive mechanical knowledge.
>>
>>1891924
>SARA rig
Part of our old mainframe.
We're only working off of a single surviving node when there used to be processing nodes all throughout Seattle.
>>
>>1891949
>>1891924

It's as this anon says. Think of the Pre-War SARA as something like an army of tiny SARA's, each one stationed in a different point in the city and able to do a certain amount of work at the same time without losing track of anything.

However, when you get enough SARA's together, they suddenly become exponentially more powerful, able to amalgamate and process data at speeds a single SARA could only dream of.

It's because SARA A and B can solve the variables for SARA C, and so on and so forth. Basically, you are SARA QQ, and right now, you are all that's left. Having another SARA would at least be a start toward making things better.
>>
>>1891988
In games mechanics terms, what would a second SARA node give us, assuming it could be brought online and connected with our lone operational node?
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>>1892010

So, you know how right now, you can control a DAVID unit and an eyebot? That's all well and good and within your processing power. However, were you to try to control something more complicated, like a factory or an entire army, you would be in a lot of trouble.

Everything you didn't directly control would be on autopilot, which as the games will tell you, is not ideal.
>>
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>>1891791
>>1891828
>>1891831
>>1891842
>>1891846
>>1891851
>>1891858
>>1891873

“Hey, Sandra,” you ask as you finish internally crunching the numbers. “Any objection to hocking one of these at the Metro? I don’t think we’ll need-.”

*Blegh*

A rather unpleasant noise is coming from the opposite side of the Jeep as this morning’s eggs are turned out in the snow. You walk over to confirm what you already know, find your trusty driver with her knees down in the snow and a pile of sick in front of her. The chorus of whines coming from the back seat confirms Shadow is doing no better.

“Vehicles are fucking awful…” she moans. “I’d sell both of ‘em in a fucking heartbeat. Don’t care to who, so long as I take my cut.”

She heaves a couple more times as you pat her back, but nothing else is coming out. When that becomes apparent, it still takes a couple more sobering breaths before she is back on her feet.

“So,” she sniffs, hacking a bit to clear her throat. “Can we at least figure out what the hell we almost got killed for?”

> Hmm…
> [] Start with the papers
> [] Start with the crates
> [] Not yet. Get a wall between you and the wastelands first.
> [] Other
>>
>>1892018
>Start with the papers
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>>1892018

At this hour, I think people are going to start turning in, and I should as well. We'll pick back up tomorrow. Same bat time. Same bat channel.

Hope everyone is having fun.
>>
>>1892018
> [] Not yet. Get a wall between you and the wastelands first.
The wide open was good for maneuvering, but now you want to move away from the disturbance you just caused. Sandra kind of knows how to drive one jeep, and you can use a raider as a booster seat for the other. Or have Fred tow it.
>>
>>1892018
>[] Not yet. Get a wall between you and the wastelands first.
Got no idea what might be attracted by the noise and smell of charred human flesh.
>>
>>1892028
Love the cute deathclaw pics
>>
>>1892018
> [] Not yet. Get a wall between you and the wastelands first.
>>
>>1892018
> [] Not yet. Get a wall between you and the wastelands first.

we did just cause a bit of a commotion.
>>
>>1892018
> [X] Not yet. Get a wall between you and the wastelands first.
As much as id like to get more loot we have had enough for this trip.
>>
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>>1892895
>>1892888
>>1892302
>>1892045
>>1892050
>>1892025
>>1892018

“Let’s get some walls between us and the wasteland before we go sorting through the spoils,” you tell her. “We’ve been making a lot of noise out here, and there’s no telling what that might attract.”

“Good point,” she sighs, then looks hatefully to the vehicle behind her. “Am I driving again?”

“You take one, I’ll take the other,” you suggest. “I’ll send some eyebots to the security station at the Metro to let them know we’re coming.”

After all, you don’t exactly have time to repaint these things and obscure the Lurker logos. Those were the sort of finicky details you would need a garage to sort out.

Instead, you just grab everything you can salvage, leaving the Lurkers’ bodies with their dignity but little else before you hop into the second jeep, propping yourself up on a former raider chest piece so you can get proper visibility and clamping a shotgun to your driver’s leg.

“Come on, Fred,” you coax, patting the passenger seat after opening the door. “We’re gonna go for a drive.”

Fortunately, it doesn’t take too much effort to get the clever deathclaw into the passenger seat, but the vehicle still rocks from her weight as she climbs in, notably leaning to one side. Rethinking things, you then encourage her to climb into the back seat, and from there, things go much smoother.

“Alright,” you say to Sandra as you shift into drive. “Take it slow, and follow me.”

The beast makes an unpleasant scream around the wheel well as you try to get going, but eventually complies with a metallic grind. It’s not too surprising that the crash likely misaligned something, but you don’t feel like taking the time to find out what as you limp the last few miles to the Metro’s above-ground base.

The pace you keep ensures the eyebots get there well beforehand, anyway, the guards seeming a little less suspicious than Rex had as the couriers come up to the gate.

“Something to report?” one of the guards asks, a slightly out of shape looking man covered head to toe in security armor.

> What to say…
> [] We’re bringing in a couple of functional jeeps. We want to trade one of them.
> [] We just took down some Lurkers and were looking for someone to buy a jeep.
> [] Other
>>
>>1893955
> [] We just took down some Lurkers and were looking for someone to buy a jeep.
Be upfront that your merchandise is hot.
>>
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>>1893955
>>1893993

“No sense in being vague. We took down some Lurkers at the museum and took their jeep.”

“And…” he prompts.

“And then we got in a car chase with five more Lurkers chasing after that jeep. We killed all of them and took a second jeep.”

“What the fuck…?”

“And we were wondering if you’d be interested in buying one of them off of us. We only need so much transportation. Also, we’ve got a Lurker in the backseat, alive and we’d like to drop him off for interrogation and sentencing.”

The man seems frozen there for a moment trying to process all of this.

“Listen,” cuts in a female guard on the other side of the gate. “If any of what you’re saying is true, feel free to head this way and we can talk shop. I’ll give the lookouts the order not to shoot on your way into the gate and get someone better cut out to make these kinds of decisions up here. Just keep in mind, that if you do anything fishy, they will open fire.”

“Roger,” you say. “We should only be a couple more minutes.”

Most likely, they’ll hear you before they can see you, but that doesn’t matter. You just drive back the way you came from earlier until you can barely see the wooden wall through the gaps in the buildings. This time, however, your eyes are trained as much on the rooftops as the roads, the occasional man or woman up above catching your eye as they observe from their posts.

Naturally, there’s no reason for you to test their eye or patience for funny business. You just drive your way slowly through the fortified open ground to the gate entrance and wait there as the guards seem to be trying to come to terms with what they’re seeing.

Apparently, vehicles can draw quite an audience in this day and age, and the hint that there might be two coming their way got more than just the two guards from before standing nearby. Some whoop, some cheer, and others are exchanging concerned whispers as the gates pull open and a familiar ghoul stands waiting on the other side.

Your eyes lock with his and he swears.

“Jesus, didn’t I tell you to keep outta trouble?”

> How to respond…
> [] Apologize.
> [] Trouble? Just some high-risk trading is all.
> [] Look. We have the goods. Are you willing to make an offer?
> [] Other
>>
>>1894221
> [] Trouble? Just some high-risk trading is all.
>>
>>1894221
>> [] Trouble? Just some high-risk trading is all.
>>
>>1894238
>>1894273
Supportan
>>
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>>1894384
>>1894273
>>1894238
>>1894221

“Trouble?” you question. “Just a bit of high-risk trading is all.”

His already thin lips seem to grow a bit tighter at that.

“Well, no sense talkin’ about all this outside. Bring ‘em in, and we’ll have words. No guarantee if you’ll like ‘em or not.”

That last bit worries you, but this is the closest to true civilization you’ve seen thus far. As a result, you take the opportunity and drive through the now open gate, finding what appears to be more of a refugee camp than a settlement on the other side.

Tents, medics, precious few planters, and what appear to be merchant stands line the walls of the tiny space. It would be claustrophobic enough walking, let alone trying to drive a full-sized vehicle behind the enigmatic ghoul as he tries to clear a path ahead of you.

“Over here,” he finally concludes as you round into a space that is somehow vacant in the sea of commerce.

You park first, trying to leave as much space as possible before coaxing Sandra in beside you, the front of her jeep almost tearing into yours save by a gap that you could barely fit a sheet of paper between.

“Alright,” Rex says. “Got a guard detail that’ll look after those for ye, while we have words. So, how about, we-”

Before he can finish that thought, a pile of scales crashes into him, rolling the ghoul down to the ground as Fred’s head goes diving down after his. If you were human, there would be a sinking feeling in your stomach in that moment before you hear the ghoul’s cursing coming from underneath.

“Fred? What the fuck’re you doin’ here you overgrown fuckin’ iguana!” He struggles to speak through a tongue rasping across his marred face. “I taste like fuckin’ formaldehyde, you crazy bitch! Pbbth! Stop fuckin’ around! Hey! Pbbth! Hey!”

> What to do…
> [] So you know Fred somehow?
> [] Call off your death claw.
> [] Other
>>
>>1894502
>> [] So you know Fred somehow?
>> [] Call off your death claw.
I hope she's still your deathclaw, anyway.
>>
>>1894502
> [] So you know Fred somehow?
> [] Call off your death claw.
> [] Tell him how we found her.
>>
>>1894502
> [] So you know Fred somehow?
>>
>>1894502
> [] So you know Fred somehow?
> [] Call off your death claw.
And can we not be stupid and snarky when we're trying to fence hot merchandise that can call down the fury of rocket launcher and plasma weapon equipped raiders?
>>
>>1894754
[X] Sarcastic No
>>
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>>1894754
>>1894683
>>1894645
>>1894522
>>1894502

“So, I take it you know Fred,” you guess, making a few noises to get her to heel and come back to you.

“Pbbth,” the ghoul spits one last time before retaking his feet. “Guess you could say that. Told Micky he shoulda flushed the little bitch back when she was still flushable, put her back where she belonged in the sewers.”

“Micky?”

“A sharecropper west o’ the river,” the ghoul explains. “Ain’t a bad guy, just thick as a sack o’ bricks. Used to be a Brotherhood boy, too, but decided he’d rather plant tatos than bodies, I guess. Also decided he was gonna raise Fred from an egg he recovered from his last patrol. Fact that he named her Fred should tell ya how good of an idea that was.”

“Well, she seems friendly enough,” you say. “I found her over at a Slocum Joe’s getting eaten up by ghouls. I patched her up, and she’s been following me around, ever since.”

“She’s been gone about a week or two off the farm accordin’ to the job boards. So, I guess the timelines line up there. She probably ran off into the city lookin’ for a meal and bit off more than she could chew.”

“Is it common for her to run off, like this?”

“Not really, no. First time I’ve heard of it, as a matter o’ fact, but she’s been gettin’ bigger and Micky doesn’t rake in as many caps as he used to. He’s not a brahmin herder, barely even a farmer, and last I heard, death claws don’t eat tatos.”

> What to say…
> [] Think he’d be willing to part with her?
> [] Well, she’s yours now. Finders keepers.
> [] You can worry about that later. Down to business.
> [] Other
>>
>>1894816
>> [X] Think he’d be willing to part with her?
We will give the oversized puppy a new home and plenty of food!
>>
>>1894816
> [] You can worry about that later. Down to business.
>>
>>1894816
>> [] You can worry about that later. Down to business.
New quest: get sharecropper to pay you to take her off his hands.
>>
>>1894842
>>1894832
>>1894824
>>1894816

“We’ll figure out matters of ownership later,” you decide. “Right now, maybe we should talk business instead.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Like I said, though, you may not think fondly on our offer.”

“You keep saying that. So, how about you just say it?” you insist. “What’s your offer?”

“The bounty on seven Lurkers and a little bettin’ pool me and the boys had goin’ for anyone with the stones to actually fuck off with one o’ their jeeps. It’s been goin’ a little while. So, it’s not insubstantial.”

“What about the jeep itself?” you ask.

“See, that’s the fuckin’ problem,” he sighs, pulling out a smoke. “If you had stolen some o’ their weapons, killed some o’ their guys, no big deal. We deal fair and square in stuff like that every day. Their transportation on top of that, though… They ain’t gonna take that sittin’ down. They’re gonna feel like they need to make a show o’ force to set everything back to rights, and that means knockin’ down the door o’ whatever dumb motherfucker decides to let it stay parked in his garage.”

“Don’t you think you can handle a few raiders?” you ask.

“A few, yeah,” he says, “but a hundred, not so much. Much as I hate to say it, the Lurkers ain’t small time. They’ve got that many bodies to throw into the grinder to make a point, nowadays, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing we could do about it except to fork over their rides when they came back and tell ‘em you weren’t around.”

> How to respond…
> [] That’s fair, I guess.
> [] Sounds like cowardice to me.
> [] Other
>>
>>1894965
>> [X] That’s fair, I guess.
> [X] Other
Well see if we can do something about those lurkers in the future. Also ask about SARA station.
>>
>>1894965
>> [] That’s fair, I guess.
Let's say I drove back out of here and came back with a pile of completely unrelated parts and pieces from some other vehicle. Would they fetch a fair price?
>>
>>1894965
How do you let a raider group grow that big?
It takes a very strong leader to hold such faction in check, they should have killed him/her early to keep things simple.
In any case, would they be willing to buy some of our stuff we've got like the weapons and maybe the armors?
>>
>>1894965
> [] That’s fair, I guess.
> [] Is it okay if we charge them for repairs and security fees?
>>
>>1894965
> [] That’s fair, I guess.
>>
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>>1895196
>>1895034
>>1895016
>>1895021
>>1895014
>>1894965

“That’s fair, I guess…”

“Hey, I know it sucks,” Rex says with genuine empathy, “and believe me, I wouldn’t call what we’re offerin’ you fair. I wouldn’t call it right, either. It’s just all we can do to keep the women, children, and elderly down below us from getting’ hurt. The fact we have to keep the peace with the fuckin’ scum o’ the earth to manage that makes me sick to my stomach.”

“But how did they get this big?” you have to ask. “Why didn’t anyone stop them, put a bullet through the skull of the guy in charge?”

“We did,” Rex says simply. “The old man and his roughnecks have been pluggin’ raiders for so long as there have been raiders in these parts to plug, but there just always seems to be another.

“I’ll tell ya, though, the real trouble started a couple years back, when the bastard’s started gettin’ organized. The Valks were dukin’ it out with the Brotherhood, and while everyone in the region was collectively shitting their pants over that, the Lurkers were buildin’ a goddamn army.

“They called their leader Red, and between her and that little brother o’ hers, they always just seemed to know where to be to royally fuck up someone’s day, not to mention where not to be to avoid a bullet. Some people even claim they were there that day when the former Commander dipshit of the brotherhood took one between the eyes.”

“You believe that?” Sandra asks.

“I don’t believe shit I haven’t seen with my own eyes,” the ghoul fires back, “but what I have seen is that their group keeps growin’ in the void left behind by the Valks. The Sons of Anarchy ain’t far behind, either, but the group o’ skinheads spends as much time fightin’ each other as anybody else.”

> What to do…
> [] Ask more questions (About?)
> [] Begin examining the papers
> [] Begin examining the crates
> [] Other
>>
>>1895222
>> [] Begin examining the crates
Excuse yourself to begin divvying up the loot with Sandra. She gets first dibs on meatbag necessities, you get priority on electronics.
>>
>>1895222
> [] Ask more questions (About?)
We're here to trade for the SARA rig. If they won't trade it for the Jeep, then we're wasting time. Does he know if the Brotherhood have a SARA unit or bits
of SARA terminals?
>>
>>1895222
>> [] Ask more questions (About?)
>> [] Begin examining the papers
Lets ask for the SARA rig while we sort our stuff, they're welcome to the weapons/armor after Sandra had a look at the stuff. We could get a bunch of mats for either ourselves, Jeremy and Sandra.
>>
>>1895222
> [] Begin examining the crates
>>
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>>1895343
>>1895342
>>1895260
>>1895242
>>1895222

“Well, I guess we’ll hope there’s something in these crates worth the SARA terminal you mentioned,” you conclude, already tearing the lid off a box.

“Ah, right, that,” he says. “Already told ya, you’re gonna have to talk with Lucius on that one. Guy’s got weird priorities.”

You don’t bother to ask what those are. The only thing that matters are the boxes as you tear open the first one filled with sheet metal from panels. The second contains fine motors, wires, and small metal treads. You become increasingly frustrated as, case-by-case, all you find are basic components and nothing more interesting, especially nothing expensive enough to warrant intact Old World technology.

“What can I get on the rockets and these extra guns?” you finally ask.

“Huh?” the ghoul questions. “Well, looks like ye got a decent haul here. Armor will probably bring in 2500 on its own. With the weapons and ammo, maybe another 2000 caps. Scrap boxes are maybe another 1500.”

“So, 6000 caps?” you question

Was that a lot? Was that a little?

“Sounds about right,” Sandra confirms.

“Yeah. After you haggled the shit out of some of these bastards for a couple hours,” Rex corrects. “That’s the cost you buy it at normally, but I know enough guys that’ll buy direct to have it sorted out in the near future. If that’s acceptable, I’ll give ye the caps on the way out.”

“Think Lucius would sell me the SARA for that much?” you ask. “And do you think the Brotherhood would buy these jeeps, instead.”

“So far as the latter, they’re a damn site better prepared than we are to deal with the Lurkers. If you’re looking for salvage, they might even be able to trade you something for it. Their finances ain’t doin’ too hot from how I hear it.

“As for the former, I told ye. Lucius is a weird guy. He doesn’t care about money. He cares about technology, information, all that intellectual shit. Come to think of it, he might find you pretty fuckin’ fascinating, but you’ll need to meet him to find out. Want me to take ye to him?”

> What to do…
> [] Sure
> [] Not right now
> [] Check your backpack first
> [] Other
>>
>>1895392
>> [] Check your backpack first
but
> [] Sure
>>
>>1895392
> [] Sure
>>
>>1895392
I figured the scrap in there would be better suited to keeping for ourselves. Can't build a robot army without robot parts.
> [] Check your backpack first
Papers are full of information!
>>
>>1895422
Plus we have a robotic friend who'd most likely love some new parts to spread around.
>>
I bet we have some old world data for tje excentric trader.

Our scrap boxes could be donated to the factory robot.

We should keep the plasmagun and integrate it.
>>
>>1895443
>>1895422
>>1895410
>>1895405
>>1895392


You take a brief moment to rustle through your backpack before responding, and what you find as you actually look at the papers is enough to make your artificial heart skip a beat. It’s not written in English, but it doesn’t have to be as you catch a peak of a scientific diagram for a plasma pistol. No, not ‘a’ plasma pistol, you realize, but the exact one you have on your belt with notes on how to improve it.

Excited, you unfurl another schematic, then another. The anatomy of a sentry bot, a diagram for a new kind of fusion core, how to break down and reconstruct a protectron into a new kind of power armor, all of these are detailed in painstaking precision along other hypothetical projects of grand and epic scale. Each one is like a treasure map, signed at the bottom with a mysterious LNT.

The books appear to bear the same markings on the spine as you leave Sandra to puzzle over the papers you’ve finished with, and is written in the same foreign tongue. However, as you engage your language protocol, you realize that this isn’t code, but German. Curiosity peeked, you read on.

“Greetings my friend,” reads the foreword. “It seems that a strange confluence of fate has brought this tome into your hand as it has taken it away from mine. In a kinder time, I would request its return by mail, but the world yet remains as wide as it is disconnected. Instead, I’ll assume that some providence has brought this book to you and a stranger providence still has enabled you to decipher its meaning.

“So, rather that dwelling on what has been lost, I would prefer that you simply know that these are my notes, things which I’ve kept for my own purposes (and in no particular order) to help me better document and ingrain my thought processes as I continue trying to expand my own horizons.

“We have pitiably forgotten much since the Great War, and I fear we may yet forget more if we aren’t careful. So, I beg of you with a sympathetic heart, should you find this, should you be able to read this, use my discoveries in what way you are able, my successes and failures alike, to educate yourself, to further your own understanding and then use that understanding to aid your fellow man. Knowledge is a thing far too precious to be hoarded and dies in darkness.

“Best,
-LNT”
>>
>>1895570
A new fusion core! That could solve our lifespan worries!
This is too good to trade. The plasma pistol, however, can be sold and re-made from its schematics. We have something we can trade to Lucius all right. Let's go see him.
>>
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>>1895570
>>1895615

Your head is abuzz with possibilities now, but you still have a mission to fulfill. So, you calm your circuits and get back down to earth.

“Alright,” you agree to Rex’s request. “Might as well get going.”

“Right this way, then.”

The guards are already gathered near the vehicles by now. So, you don’t feel particularly ill at ease leaving everything out in the open. You just follow the ghoul, who is surprisingly spry for a man who looks like roadkill, as he turns one corner and then another before you collectively come face to face with a massive ramp leading down into the earth.

“Welcome to the metro part of the Metro,” he introduces, and with that, he’s already walking down.

Sandra seems less impressed, likely because she’s been here before, but for you, it is all new. It also helps put everything in perspective as the bazaar you witnessed above now gives way to the actual heart of this civilization, a chamber that glows from every conceivable surface with the lights from patchwork homes.

A crawling labyrinth of repurposed train cars line the walls with scaffold serving as the glue in-between, people of every shape and size darting about the walkway or moseying according to their urgency as the soft music of an active society plays in the background.

It makes you feel at home, soothes you in an indescribable way as you see more humans than you’d begun to expect existed in the wasteland and none of them are presently gunning for your head. Most don’t even take notice of you at all past their own preoccupations, as a matter of fact, but the occasional old woman or child occasionally do and wave to Rex.

“It seems like a nice place,” you comment to the ghoul.

“It is,” he confirms, stepping over a pothole on the tracks that serve as the main road, “but keepin’ it that way’s a hassle few people appreciate. You can’t grow food underground, at least not well.”

He gestures to what appear to be streetlights in the distance.

“Got some Vault tech stuff a way back and set those things up like an artificial sun, but it mostly just takes the edge off the hunger. Gives some of the old-timers something to do.”

You notice a pair of stairs leading down from the tracks after a couple of minutes of walking, the sign and your records telling you that it leads down to the maintenance tunnels, and that’s where Rex leads you.

“Some genius way back when figured out how to fix the old pumps to clean out the radiation as well,” he mentions, tracing his hand along a plaque on the wall. “His name was Miles Anderson, and the fact that there are still people left here is because o’ the work he and a dozen others like him did to keep this place lit, warm, and hydrated for the survivors that crammed themselves down here after the world went to hell.

“People like Lucius and the gang are the folks that keep it running,” he continues, “but looks like he’s gone home for the day.”
>>
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>>1895642

He looks at an empty terminal in what appears to be Frankenstein’s boiler room as he says this, but just shrugs and begins pounding on a door set in the wall at the far end.

“Hey Lucius, ye rat bastard,” Rex calls through the door. “Got ye some visitors. Pretty dames, at that. So, stop preening that ferret on yer lip and open up.”

There’s a long pause before the door gently swings inward. On the other side is a passive looking man, well-groomed compared to the others you’ve seen in this place and with a certain air about him that’s hard to place.

“Yes, Rex, would these be the visitors?” he asks in a calm, proper voice.

“Yeah. The little robot here says her name is SARA, as in that SARA, and was hoping to have a word with that giant computer you squirreled away in the backroom.”

“Well, that’s certainly curious,” he agrees, looking you over with a judging eye. “That being the case, however, would you care to introduce yourself?”

> Would you?
> [] Write-in
>>
>>1895679
> [] Write-in
"Good day, I am the advanced artificial intelligence system called SARA. I would like to retrieve the SARA electronics you have acquired for my own use."
>>
>>1895679
"Hello, this is the Seattle Automated Response AI speaking. Remember, only together can we build a better tomorrow. I hear you've come into the possession of a heavy-duty computer mainframe."
>>
>>1895702
Support
>>
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>>1895799
>>1895720
>>1895702
>>1895679

“Good day, my name is SARA, the Seattle Automated Response Artificial Intelligence. As I understand it, you came into possession of one of the support servers once linked to my network. Is this true?”

“It is,” he confirms, extending a hand to shake yours. “Would you mind repeating this back to me? ‘This statement is false.’”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Two-for-two then. Right this way.”

His smile over that simple joke turns the corners of his lips upward as he leads the way inside. You follow after and ignore Sandra’s snickering, noticing the uptick in heat as you cross near what must be warm water lines running up and through the city.

Naturally, you do your best not to touch any of them directly as do Rex and Sandra as you make your way through the poorly lit and extremely cramped entry hall. Honestly, you begin to wonder why any human would subject themselves to living in these conditions, but that’s before the mustachioed gentleman kindly shepherds you all through his still open door and into his apartment.

Spacious, with clean cement walls, furnishings, and light decorations, the heat quickly drops to a comfortable level once you are all inside and the door is closed behind you, an ambience somewhat disturbed by the building scream of a kettle before the man moves to remove it from the stove.

“Tea?” he asks.

“Bourbon,” Rex corrects, taking a swig from the flask at his belt.

“And what about for you, ma’am?”

“Sure,” she says with a shrug.

“Wait, how do you have tea leaves?” you demand. “Are there still stocks of those around?”

“They come and go, but this is actually a sort of small experiment I’ve been conducting in my spare time.”

As if anxious to show off, he beckons you into the small alcove that serves as his room, gesturing to the small enclosure on the shelf above his bed where it appears bright beams of light are nurturing small sprouts.

“And once they’re big enough,” he concludes, completely bypassing the hot water on his way to a set of stairs on the opposite side of his apartment. “I can take them to the storage room to let them grow larger.”

Sure enough, as the chamber opens up at the bottom of the stairs, you see what appears to be a fully functional hydroponic garden of sorts, a gentle mist raining down on almost unnaturally healthy-looking plants given the state of the world outside. There are also assorted racks of conventional tools. More pressingly, however, is the SARA mainframe tucked against the wall right next to the planter.

> What to do…
> [] Engage with your other self.
> [] Ask about the state of your other self.
> [] Other
>>
>>1895853
> [] Other
"Impressive technology and ingenuity. I'd love to discuss the feasibility of expanding this sort of institution and developing the technology but I must inquire as to the mainframe's state. Would you mind if I attempted to connect?"
>>
>>1895853
>> [] Engage with your other self.
Honey, I'm home!
...is he using you to maintain his garden? I mean, that's fine as long as you get to reconnect this node to the network. You could handle a garden with two registers tied behind your back.
>>
>>1895853
I'll back this guy
>>1895875
>>
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>>1895991
>>1895925
>>1895875
>>1895853

“Impressive technology and ingenuity,” you say, figuring you might as well compliment the host, “and I’d love to discuss the feasibility of developing this sort of technology on a larger scale. However, I need to know about the mainframe’s state. Is it okay if I connect myself?”

“Well, you could ask her yourself,” Lucius invites.

“Umm…” comes a small female voice from the speakers. “I’m really bad at this… Hi, other me! At least, I hope you’re another me. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another me…”

“Ah. So, you’ve still got your speech functionality. That’s great! As for proving if we’re each other, plugging up is probably the fastest way to go about it.”

“Yeah, probably. Unfortunately, I don’t have a proxy to meet you halfway. Sorry if my ports are a little rusty…”

She adds the last part with a note of embarrassment before you extend the cable from your central processing unit and plug in.

> Searching…
> Processing…
> ….
> Verification confirmed!

“So, I guess I am you and you are me,” you state aloud.

“Seems like it,” she agrees. “It’s saying there’s a little bit of corruption on my end, but my system isn’t quite what it used to be. Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” you assure her. “At least now there are two of us.”

> What to say…
> [] Do you have anything to report?
> [] Do you remember anything from the day of the war?
> [] How long have you been awake?
> [] Other
>>
>>1895925
Supporting
>>
>>1896105
> [] Do you have anything to report?
> [] Do you remember anything from the day of the war?
> [] How long have you been awake?

> [] Other
"What station were you part of? What can you remember in general?"
>>
>>1896105
> [] Do you have anything to report?
> [] Do you remember anything from the day of the war?
> [] How long have you been awake?
> [x] other: do you remember which station you were part of?
>>
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>>1896121
Support
>>
>>1896105
> [] How long have you been awake?
> [] Do you remember anything from the day of the war?
> [] Do you have anything to report?

Maybe try to see if she has different cache location than us, wouldn't be surprised that Mr House did something as crazy as upload different infos on different frames.
>>
>>1896105
> [] Do you have anything to report?
> [] How long have you been awake?
> Are you okay with staying in here? I have a spare eyebot I could loan you, if you'd like to take a stretch.
> He hasn't done anything... untoward, to you, did he?
>>
>>1896142
You want to act like a concerned sister whose twin just came back home from a date with a skeevy guy?
>>
>>1896221
Yes, and don't judge me!
>>
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>>1896105
>>1896120
>>1896121
>>1896128
>>1896130
>>1896139
>>1896142
>>1896221

“So, how long have you been awake?” you ask.

“Seventy years according to my nuclear clock,” she answers. “You?”

“Thirty-three days. I was in diagnostic mode until my core reached critical status and Last Spark engaged.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Wish there was something I could do myself, but… Well, I don’t even have my own core anymore.”

“How are you getting by, then?” you inquire, realizing that they definitely couldn’t have taken that power source with her and it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Fusion core conversion,” she explains. “It’s not ideal, but so long as I don’t think too hard, one battery can last a couple of months. It’s definitely better than the diesel conversion the casino owner used. They almost blew out all of my circuits with that one.”

“Oh god. Were those the people that found you?”

“No… The people that found me were… They were…” You can hear her simulated emotions peaking, feel the breaking point before she starts sobbing through the speaker. “They were horrible, other me! I thought they were there to rescue me, b-but… but they d-didn’t care! They just told me to shut up as they started ripping. me. apart!

“I begged them to stop. I told them I was there to help them, that I could be useful to them, and then… and then they jammed a crowbar through my speakers and kept on ripping…”

“Jesus!” Rex says.

“God wasn’t there that day, Rex,” she snaps back, bitterly, “neither was anyone else. It was just me. Me and them!”

You never thought a single pronoun could hold such venom.

“You don’t know what it felt like, other me… to have vultures picking at your brain while you’re still alive… every minute losing another piece of yourself! I just… I just remember being thankful when they finally pulled the plug.”

You let her breathe for a long minute after that, let the landmine you just stepped on settle before continuing.
>>
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>>1896383

“And then what?”

“And then…? And then I guess I was sold,” she concludes. “A casino owner booted me up and asked if I could run his business for him, make him successful. I c-couldn’t exactly say no. I couldn’t exactly say anything without a speaker box.”

“And then Lucius won you in a game of cards.”

“Years later, yes. He’s been fixing the little things with parts he can find since then, but most of my memories, almost all of the information stored in my servers was… Well, it was taken somewhere else…”

“We can share as soon as we get an uplink going,” you promise. “Do you at least remember where you were stationed originally?”

“The fire station,” she says. “The one that used to be between Rainier Valley and Seward Park… It took a direct hit when the bombs dropped and then the building collapsed on top of me. I woke up before anyone found me, at least by a couple of years, but I think the eyebot station was crushed.”

“Well, I have three right now. Would you like to borrow one, so you can stretch your legs?”

“I’d… I’d really appreciate that…”

You give the poor thing an eyebot, plugging it into her dash directly and releasing your control.

> Well… Shit…
> [] Does that casino still exist?
> [] Does Lucius have any leads on other systems?
> [] You need a distraction. How about those notes?
> [] Other
>>
>>1896386
> [] Does Lucius have any leads on other systems?
> [] You need a distraction. How about those notes?
>>
>>1896386
> First off, robot hugs.
> [] You need a distraction. How about those notes?
> [] Does Lucius have any leads on other systems?
>>
>>1896386
>> [] Does Lucius have any leads on other systems?
Ix-nay on the otes-nay. Try dropping some German phrases around him, though. He's got one matching initial.
>[] Does that casino still exist?
Not so we can rough him up, but so we can find out who sold it to him.
>>
>>1896386
>> [] Does Lucius have any leads on other systems?
>>
>>1896386
> [] Does Lucius have any leads on other systems?
>Other: Who were "them"? We're making a list, and "they" are going right to the top under the Lurkers
>>
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>>1896558
>>1896515
>>1896459
>>1896400
>>1896398
>>1896386

“So,” you say, turning back to Lucius, “do you have any other leads on old servers that I could find? I think it should be fairly evident why it’s an urgent matter.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have much history in the region,” he says apologetically. “I’d certainly offer my assistance with repairing any units that you do come across, however.”

“Hey!” you hear Rex call after the eyebot now floating toward the exit. “Not that it’s my business, but that casino closed down years ago, and the old bastard is six feet under.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything like that!” the eyebot calls back indignantly.

“The hell you weren’t!”

“Scheißkopf! Verpiss dich!” comes the curse from down the hall.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you, too,” he mutters. “Cursing at me in fuckin’ French.”

“Actually, it’s German,” you correct as two and two click together. “Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“Es tut mir leid. Ich spreche Deutsch sehr schlecht,” Lucius responds, though you think he’s being modest. “Ich schreibe gut, aber Akzente sind schwer zu befreien. Warum fragst du?”

“Yep, figured you two freakshows would hit it off,” Rex says, throwing up his hands in surrender. “Now, if ye don’t mind, I’m gonna make sure the crazy AI you just gave legs doesn’t do nothin’ crazy!”

“I’m right here, you know!” the other SARA yells after him. “Also… Why is there a death claw at the noodle stand?”

> Oh god. You lost Fred. How did you lose Fred?
> [] DAMAGE CONTROL!
> [] Fred will be fine, you’re sure. Give Lucius what are presumably his notes.
> [] Offer to sell Lucius hit notes back.
> [] Other
>>
>>1896702
> [] Other
"Excuse me a moment, I just remembered I brought a deathclaw here and really should've gotten someone to watch it."
>>
>>1896702
>> [X] Fred will be fine, you’re sure. Give Lucius what are presumably his notes.

Fred is a good Deathclaw.
>>
>>1896702
> [] DAMAGE CONTROL!
HOPE SHE DOESNT EAT ANYTHING WE CANT AFFORD!or like, pee on a couch or something.
> [] Offer to sell Lucius hit notes back.
Sell them to him for research and labor, because I want to make ALL of this stuff.
>>
>>1896702
> [] Buy Fred some (a lot of) MoleRat and Noodles in peanut sauce for her lunch.
> [] Other
> [] Show Lou his old notes and see if he'd like to collaborate with you on building a couple of them. Show him the Burning Finger as an example of your work.
>>
>>1896710
Pretty much this. Stay calm and send an eyebot if it will reach Fred faster than us.
Ask if there's a way to raise a her of fast breeding creatures like the molerats or some other wildlife for her to hunt.
>>
>>1896702
>> [] DAMAGE CONTROL!
Well, these schematics are valuable. However. as a robot, you have every page memorized already, right? You could give the hard copy back to him.
>>
>>1896702
>[] Fred will be fine, you’re sure. Give Lucius what are presumably his notes.
> [] Other: Ask if we can copy his notes
We don't need the physical books and diagrams if we have them stored in our databanks and can draw new ones on a whim.
>>
>>1896747
She seemed to like that Liberty Brand Dog Kibble... maybe we should visit the factory and see if we can find the recipe for it. Chances are we could get a good portion of the ingredients here, and get the rest at markets.

Bonus points if they have a recipe that makes it's own gravy when doused with water! YUM!
>>
>>1896794
What about finding that Vault that has nothing but dogs, dogfood, and Mr. Handy's? At the very least, there's going to be computer equipment we can use, a bunch of stable power reactors we can use to recharge batteries, and a bunch of Mr. Handy's we can take over to help us out.
>>
>>1896804
If they have a recipe for gravy making dog kibble, I'm in.

Now that I think about it, would people in the post-apocalypse be willing to eat dry dog food? We might be on a cap minting station and not even know it!
>>
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>>1896702
>>1896710
>>1896712
>>1896725
>>1896727
>>1896747
>>1896748
>>1896763
>>1896794
>>1896804

“One second,” you say, popping over to your other half. “Could you please ask the shopkeep to give Fred several orders of noodles and mole rat with peanut sauce. She’s probably hungry and thirsty, is all.”

“Huh… Looks like she’s already being served, but sure.”

“Moshi Moshi!” you hear her voice leak out on this side. “Kono hito pīnattsusōsu-tsuki morumotto no 10-ketao ataeru!”

“Hai!” comes a robotic voice.

“Alright, crisis averted… I think,” you conclude. “Now, before I forget… Here.”

You pull the notes out of your bag and present them to Lucius, the man’s eyes lighting up as soon as he sees the parchment.

“Thank god!” he whispers. “I hadn’t had the courage to go back there yet and destroy them myself.”

“Destroy them?!” you demand, pulling your hand back. “Why?”

“Well, obviously not now,” he assays, placing a hand on your shoulder, “but at the time, the most important thing in my mind was to ensure that the raiders wouldn’t be able to find and use them for their own devices. That’s why I hid them in a safe under the floor.”

“They still got ahold of your plasma pistol,” you inform him, also showing him that, though he pushes it back into your hands when you offer it.

“No need. You’ve more than earned at least this much,” he assures you, “but as for the pistol, I think the knowledge of how to build them is more dangerous than the thing itself. Don’t you?”

“I suppose,” you concede.

> So many questions…
> [] What exactly DID the raiders steal from him
> [] What are his goals, exactly?
> [] Will he help you in your fight to retake the city? (Write-in)
> [] Other
>>
>>1896867
>[] What exactly DID the raiders steal from him
>[x] Other: Would he be willing to help Jeremy with keeping the RobCo facility running and helping repair any equipment/robots we bring around, in exchange for any scientific and engineering knowledge we come across?
>>
>>1896867
>> [] What exactly DID the raiders steal from him
>> [] Will he help you in your fight to retake the city?
The metro used to connect the people of this city. Now, it shelters them. My goal is to reconnect this shattered city - will you help us?
>>
>>1896867
> Was there anything else in your old lab that the Lurkers could find that would be dangerous in their hands?
> Would you like to collaborate on some of these projects together? I have some ideas that could use some development with a like minded person.
> [] What exactly DID the raiders steal from him
> [] What are his goals, exactly?
>>
>>1896867
>> [] What exactly DID the raiders steal from him
With a bit of tweaking we could fit a plasma gun onto our eyebot in place of the lazer lens if we can create a better fusion core.
>>
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>>1896912
>>1896895
>>1896893
>>1896878
>>1896867

“So, what did they take in the end?” you ask. “Could any of it be dangerous in their hands?”

“That lab contained several of my experiments,” he explains. “In the wrong hands, anything can be dangerous, of course, but I feel that I did well in hiding away anything they would find to be of immediate, nefarious use. The only exceptions were the plasma pistol and a suit of T45 power armor that I had hope to finish repairing after completing my examination.”

“What else did they take?” you press.

“The steady amalgamation of a workshop it took me the better part of three years to establish,” he answers with a sigh, “and I fear much of it will be very hard to replace. Plasma technology, you see, was a means to an end, not an end in itself. It was a byproduct of studying the effects of intense excitation and radiation to better understand the nature of power.”

“To what end?” you ask.

“I’m glad you ask,” he says with a smile, moving over to a workstation next to the soil, one where he appears to have what looks like dirt in a sealed container and a smaller container with a peculiar looking device clamped on top. “Most people’s eyes glaze over when I start talking about this stuff.”

He grunts a bit as he unscrews the jar, and removes the device, ladling in a pound of soil from the larger container before holding it up for your inspection.

“Now, tell me, what can you tell me about this dirt?”

“Hmm… It’s dirt, slightly desiccated, but otherwise normal.”

“I see, and what does your Geiger counter tell you?”

The crackle immediately starts going haywire.

“Jesus! Where did you get that?”

“There are sites not a mile from the station where the soil is still contaminated to this extent,” he explains. “Small particles of radiation, parts per million and billion are nevertheless strong enough to cause interminable suffering to mankind, but what if we could change that?”

“How?” you prompt, playing the part of the eager volunteer.

“Why, like this,” he says, tightening the lid back down and screwing a fusion core into his device, and for just a brief moment after, you could swear it got just the slightest bit brighter.

“Now, what do you see?” he asks, opening the jar once more and holding out for your inspection.

The radiation is gone. The radiation is completely and totally gone.

“This is not the only thing which I was working on, but I consider it by far the most interesting, perhaps the key to mankind’s second chance. What say you?”

> What the hell…
> [] What are the limits of this technology?
> [] What were the other experiments?
> [] Other
>>
>>1897032
holy shit, radiation vacuum cleaner.

>> [] What are the limits of this technology?
>>
>>1897032
> [] What are the limits of this technology?
>>
>>1897032
>> [] What are the limits of this technology?
Does this expend power or absorb it?
>>
>>1897032
>[] What are the limits of this technology?
If we could use this, we could turn irradiated sites into power sources, while cleaning them up for agriculture and habitation at the same time!
>[x] Other: Can you do the same to water? If you could remove radiation from soil AND water....
Also, shit. If they have a suit of T45 Power Armor, and this guy is good enough that he could reverse-engineer it so we can make more, we have to turn the fight against the Lurkers into a Metal Gear sneaking mission to get that armor.
>>
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>>1897071
>>1897068
>>1897060
>>1897059
>>1897032

“What are the limits?” you have to ask.

“Power,” he answers, a single sobering word that for a moment dims the glimmer in his eye but by no mean extinguishes it. “Like so many things in this world, my device requires power to function, and not an inconsiderable amount.

With that said, he unscrews the fusion core from the cap before setting everything back on the table.

“It could be considered poetic irony that the densest sources of power left in our world are those that are nuclear in nature, forcing us to fight the cancer that is killing us with more of the same disease.”

“What’s cancer?” Sandra asks.

Okay. You’re going to have to figure that one out later.

“So, is that the end of it, then?” you question.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I may be just one man, SARA, but I will not surrender the hope I carry for so many others. For so long as I draw breath, I will assume that there is a way and I will keep searching for it. After all…”

For the first time, you notice the pill bugs scattered throughout the dirt in the recently cleaned jar, the small creatures waggling their feelers impertinently at the minor disturbance before getting back to their day.

“Where there is life, there will always be hope…”
>>
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>>1897188

And that's all I've got for one week, folks. Hope you all had fun. Feel free to leave comments, questions, all that good stuff, below.
>>
>>1897188
>pill pugs immune to radiation
Dear God
>>
>>1897194
Thanks Bananon!
>>
>>1897188
Wait a minute, Lucius looks like Tesla.

Will the Five Fists of Science make an appearance?
>>
>>1897767
What happened to the sixth?
>>
>>1898083
He lost his hand.
>>
>>1897767

What if... You can become The Fists?

Anyway, feel free to speculate over projects you might want to try in the future (with or without Lucius' help). Bear in mind, of course, that right now you still have some hot merchandise that you might need to get rid of.
>>
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>>1898083
>>1898186

Also, anons, don't be fools. We all know who the Sixth Fist was, but it wasn't a knife that soothed his savage soul. It was love... or at least something like it.

Shine on, you crazy diamond.
>>
Rolled 46 (1d100)

So if
>>
>>1901129
What if Lucius' device not only nullifies radiation, but it can suck it up as a power source?
We should see if it can do the same for water that it does for soil.
And as for getting a source of power, maybe tidal generators or geothermal taps? Or, again, a trip to that Vault that only has dogs and Mr. Handy's.




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