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Sitting at the a bar drinking some rad poisoned alcoholic drink as he watched the front door for any activity. Both his power fists were tide to either side of his waist as hanging freely his combat knife, which looked like a ka-bar, was stabbed into the bar top.
As he was doing so the bar tender told hi not to do it, Ferro just looked at him and did it anyway, the bar tender was upset with him but to no reaction of Ferro he simply replied with throwing a few caps on the bar and bluntly stating "Alcohol."
Ferro was not much for words around these parts, all he wanted was work cap and experience, being in a town of humans there was no one he could relate too, no one he could question why he is the way he is, he never found out how or why he was a large horse like human and felt out of place, was he a horse that transformed? or was he born from parents he never meant? he doesn't remember much of his past, all he knows is where he is and how he got the things he has.
"Another." As the clanking of caps filled the dead bar with the bar tender grumpily getting him another.
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"Wow, impressive shot," A voice came up from behind Moirai a slender red headed woman walking past her, "Shame though," she muttered as she bent over, brushing a bit of dirt aside and picking up what looked like a lunchbox with wires sticking out of it, "If only that raider had gone a few inches to the left, oh well, doubt it works anyways." she shrugged as she tossed the lunchbox away. It hit the ground once, then bounced, and when it came down again exploded in a giant fireball, a strong gust of wind striking both the red head and Moirai, "Huh, I guess it works. Now if only I had been able to test it on an actual body, oh well, plenty more raiders where those came from." She said with a smile and a shrug.
"Stand tall and shake the heavens!" - Xenogears.
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"WELCOME...TO...MEGATON."
Flynn smiled. There was something oddly comforting about the old Protectron's stilted, robotic greeting. Like it was one thing in the wastes that would never change. The shifting dunes might change the landscape; unexploded nukes could go off and create more craters; the standing ruins of some of the larger buildings might collapse; but despite all that, Deputy Weld would still stand at the gate to Megaton.
"'Afternoon, Deputy. How're you holding up?" Flynn asked the robot with almost tenderness.
The robot made a few chirping noises. "DIAGNOSTIC PROCEDURE INDICATES ADEQUATE PERFORMANCE." It clicked its three fingered hands idly.
"Adequate, huh?" The dog cocked his head. "And what might I have to do to improve that to exceptional?"
"DISSASEMBLY. REPLACEMENT."
The air between them stood silent. The shocking bluntness of the robot's statement stopped the dog short.
"Don't give up, Deputy," he said, patting the robot fondly on its shoulder. "You've got plenty of good years left in you."
The protectron made a chirping, whirring noise. "HAVE...A NICE...DAY."
"You, too."
Flynn strolled through the gate, heading up to the local bar. He wondered for a brief moment before he opened its door if it had changed ownership - again - since his last visit. He noticed another anthro like himself at the bar. Well, not much like himself, but something definitely more animal than human. Some kind of...horse, he recalled.
He smiled to himself. Horses...four legged fast runners, they'd carry their passengers all around. He briefly tried to imagine what this stranger would look like with a human running around on his back, laughing at the ridiculous image as he sat in the corner and waved the waitress over.
"Amber rum and a glass of ice, please." He dropped a fistful of caps on the table. "Top shelf."
The waitress' skeptical expression was erased as soon as she saw the volume of caps. "Y-yes, sir!" She nearly tripped and dropped everything, knowing the necessity of treating a high paying customer well. She poured the first shot, hovering almost too close, eyes uncertain.
Flynn took the first shot, closing his eyes as its sweetness burned his tongue and throat with delicious warmth before stirring a fire in his belly. He opened them and looked at the waitress, seeing the discomfort in her eyes at the thought of having to flirt with a dog. "Gay," he offered, by way of explanation.
The waitress nodded, the discomfort of the situation changing tone entirely. Feeling entirely idiotic, she stumbled her way back across the bar, nearly tripping in a barstool as she tried to erase the image of a dog fiercely coupling with her from her brain.
Flynn chuckled throatily to himself. Gay and a dog person. What a catch.
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Moirai looked over her shoulder at the woman, inspecting her quietly. She obviously wasn't a Raider, as she lacked the glassed-over look and the twitchy, erratic movements that came with the drugs that they took. Her ears laid back as the lunchbox exploded, muffling her sensitive hearing to the sound of the blast.
"Well, not many people are willing to learn how to work a shotgun." She replied, her voice deep, almost like a purr. "And not many people have the skills to keep one working. I take it that you aren't here for the lovely architecture?"
She looked around, ensuring they were alone, before sitting down in the shade of the building, pulling out the assault rifle she stole as well as another, her own personal weapon. With quick hands, she field stripped both of them, selecting the best parts and put one back together.
"What brings you to the outskirts of Hell, exactly?" she asked, looking up at the redhead.
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
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"Citizens don't like me testing stuff too close to town, can't imagine why." Katt smiled cluelessly as she dug around in her pack a bit, "Plus there's always a few random bits and pieces out here I can use, mostly thanks to people like you taking care of those raiders. You always take the weapons and usually chems but they always leave behind what they think is junk." she explained as she pulled out a few old lunchboxes as well as a small amount of scrap metal and random other small junk.
"Stand tall and shake the heavens!" - Xenogears.
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Ferro dropped his shot glass as he saw the dog walk in, another of his kind? here? in the same town, the same bar even? What are the odd?! Ferro thought to himself, he keep his composure as he grabbed the knife from out of the table, he stood up as he sheathed it on his chest, the two power fists swaying as he walked on either side making a B line to the blue canine.
"Hey. . . " being a horse of few words his voice was deep and rugged but yet, welcoming and pleasant to the ears. "Mind if I join you?" he said as he welcomed himself as he pulled up a chair without a response from the husky. "I kinda. . . have a question." He added as his power suit made a funny sound as he sat the wrong way in his chair toward the blue one, waiting for a response as his tail flicked, he remained with a calm, relaxed, gentle look to his face.
So much for being a 'bad-ass merc.' He was rather kind hearten yet reserved to the people he wanted to talk to.
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"A question, huh?" The dog crossed his legs and leaned back casually and poured himself a shot. "Gimme a sec." He downed it, closing his eyes as the shot's sweetness burned him from the inside again.
He slowly opened them, fixing his gaze on the horse. "Let's hear it."
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"I know this may sound odd to you. . . B-but. . . Do you remember your parents?" the horse paused for a moment before adding to his previous statement. "Because I can't. . . for the life of me. and if you can't remember do you know where you came from? were you just a normal husky at first? or where you born that way?" with almost sadness in his voice, he raised his massive hand signaling for another drink as it came a few moments later.
as the shots came he didn't even bother to wait for the husky as he downed his drink. "Ahhhh, I would just like to find out where I came from." laughing at himself. "But you must think I'm mad, huh? a lonely furbag merc in megaton, even with power armor? huh." he shook his head.
"Where are my manners? I didn't even introduce myself! huh?" he reached out his massive hand, hooved at the tips of his fingers to offer a shack with the new husky. "My names Ferro Cordis, they call me King around these parts due to the way I carry myself. . .Annnnnd other reasons not worth mentioning heh. How about yourself? I'd tell ya where I'm from. . . But in all honesty I can't!" He laughed loudly at his own stupidity.
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Moirai laughed a little bit, as she stepped inside the school, who's interior was only dimly lit by a few lanterns powered by equally-ancient car batteries. Bodies were strewn allover, hanging from the ceiling by chains, even locked into makeshift cages.
"Well then, I think this little girl's day out can be beneficial for both of us." The tigress smirked, "I kill the creeps who did this, grab the stuff I can salvage, and you grab everything you need to make more of those....'splodey bombs'."
She rolled her eyes to herself, cursing herself for not coming up with a better name for the lunchbox that exploded, as she switched over to her newly repaired assault rifle, loading a fresh magazine into it.
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
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Flynn reached out and shook the large paw firmly. "I'm Flynn Rausch. Siberian husky with a German name...from Canada." He sat back in the chair, arm slung over its back. The alcohol was already helping him to relax after the rough trek.
"And my parents, huh? Well, don't know what the situation is like down here, but in the Northern Wastes they call us beastmen. Which, to human eyes I suppose, seems accurate. Other than the talking and the clothes, I'm a dog head to toe." He flipped his tail into view as evidence of this.
"Up in Canada, things are about as disorganized as they are down here. But there's one thing everyone agrees on: humans and beastmen don't mix. The communities are insular, one way or the other, and don't exchange goods or services. So if you have enough mutants breeding...well..."
He laughed. "I saw some old holotapes of what some early beastmen looked like. Pretty much just humans with tails. Or maybe claws. Just minor stuff. But about fifty years ago, I guess evolution took a jump and we started being born...well, like this." He held up a paw. It had a human shape, but it had claws, fur, and pawpads like a feral dog would.
"My parents were part of the first generation like it." He ginned wolfishly. "It has its advantages, that's for damn sure. I don't have to taste water to see if it's tainted; I can just smell it."
He poured another shot and knocked it back. "Mmm..." He looked Ferro up and down. "That power armor of yours is whining worse than an ex-wife. Sounds like you have a few actuators that need some work. And before you ask, this is not me trying to pick you up by getting you out of your clothes." The dog snickered and adjusted his glasses.
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