Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20151221021707/@comment-5583506-20151224023302

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!" the Raider kept repeating as he limped his way through the seemingly abandoned fair, dragging behind him the huge satchel full of caps and other goodies.

Slowly he began to realise that stealing this satchel had indeed been a bad idea. No, it had been the worst idea. He hadn't expected the owner to still be around once he took it, nor had he expected the owner to be a brute of a man. A big, walking lump of muscles with a temper worse than any Deathclaw he had ever encountered.

He hadn't looked behind him, but he knew that somewhere back there a man was coming after him, to reclaim his satchel of caps. And the man was livid, to say the least. He had seen the fury in his eyes. There was no room for compassion or mercy.

He knew that if he stopped now, the man would kill him on the spot. It wouldn't matter if he so decided to hand the satchel full of caps back to him; the man would still kill him without remorse and take it back.

Better to just run and have slight chance of survival to live rich...

"Where the fuck do you think you are headed?!" roared the voice behind him.

Oh, fuck!

This was definitely not how he had expected his day to turn out. Here he had been out on the occasional shakedown when he just happened to stumble upon a small camp just south of the abandoned zoo. There had been an open satchel containing a fortune in caps as well as various chems, some alcohol, and a bunch of tasteful pornographic magazines. It was as a godsent from above. Little did he know that the rightful owner of the stash had been just nearby behind a tree, putting one of the magazines to... use...

And now he was coming after him, with a combat shotgun. The first round had missed any vital parts of his left leg, slightly grazing the sides and left him with a bad limp. The second had missed due to the livid man struggling to zip his fly with his other hand.

"HELP!" he cried and blubbered, begging for anyone... or anything to save him... "HELP ME, SOMEONE!"

He limped his way through the dust, almost collapsing a couple of times before he reached a 3-story building. What seemed to be some sort of building in which pre-war eggheads would polish their glasses and adjust their long white coats. He just assumed from the looks of it, that if there was any help to be found in this desolate place, it would be from in there.

"HEEELP!" he cried again.