Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20170504012353/@comment-25828117-20170510020309

Will had due to his early deployment and the strong winds been blown away from Tyrus. He almost landed in a tree too, when he eventually did.

His tired legs skated across the dry grass of this old nature resort until he practically slid forward on his ass for a couple more meters after which he finally came to a standstill on the solid ground. He had heard the blast, and even felt it, but now he could properly see it. He turned around, sitting awkwardly upon a hillside with his legs towards the top, and looked up to see an impressive fireball slowly crash down, he did not think about how many lives it took down with it, he was just glad to finally have his body find purchase with solid soil again.

Van de Poorter fell down on his back. His chute fluttered around on the ground below his head. A wide grin appeared on his grin. He just realized how ridiculous what he had just done was, and how he could've possibly survived. It was probably the closest call he'd ever had. The last time he nearly died was a few weeks ago.

-A few weeks back-

William had been trekking for weeks maybe months now. His goal: ‘go west’ and there was not much more to it. After what he did in Second City it was evident he couldn’t stay there without some angry waster looking to settle scores, and they’d have a perfectly valid reason too.

Even though he had made a little home out there, he was glad to leave it behind, and equally pleased that the strong winters had subsided. Frankly it would probably have been impossible to walk through what once was South Dakota in such a cold climate. Will was a survivalist but not insane. He knew he wouldn’t hold out in such a frigid wasteland. The stories of the few travelers that came from the west were found to be true though: The density of sporadic settlements like you’d see between the East and Midwest was nowhere to be found. As if the Crossroads were a cliff and anything west of it was an abyss of sheer uncharted nothingness. Sure, he’d stumble on some old ghost towns from before the war but they hadn’t even been raided yet as was evident by the abundance of loot still lying around. Another reason for the relatively untouched state of a lot of pre-war landmarks was because there were no clear trading routes yet. People would get from west to Midwest or from the Midwest to the coast in vastly different ways. So the chances that you walked into something which had been untouched for more than two-hundred years was quite high.

Will had been carving his own path to the west like Columbus did nearly eight centuries ago. Following sundown and occasionally circling around obstacles he couldn’t take on, like packs of ferocious feral animals or radiation hotspots. Yesterday he had come across a bizarre monument in the mountains which he couldn’t tell if it was Pre-war or made by some weird tribe from the hills he was roaming.

Four large heads, carved in the shapes of the people you’d find on old pre-war money.

Either way, he was more interested in getting to the coast than anything found in these hills. Once there he’d simply work his way down south, following the trail along the ocean. He had heard a lot of interesting things about the New California Republic from caravaneers but the real reason he went west was because of a city called ‘New Vegas’. Which would allegedly be easier to get to from the coast than to try and cross the desert from the North. Will believed that to be prudent, rather than to try and blindly cross the dry radioactive badlands where he’d never been before or heard little about.

New Vegas, if the tales were true, was supposed to be this den of pure vice. Something the former secret agent wouldn’t mind having in his life. He’d rather live it up in copious amounts of booze and carnal pleasure than to have his dick frozen off back there in the Crossroads. Sadly, he was quite unaware of how much further he’d have to go and had to be ever vigilant of the dangers around him or he’d never get there. The tales some Bicoastalers had told him made it clear just how dangerous the trek could be; most of them also missed a limb or an eye somewhere so Will was inclined to believe the warnings.

-

Night was about to fall over the ranges as the red sun sailed west. The dry ponderosa pines painted long slim shadows over the old tarmac road which had been partially reclaimed by nature, but even nature had to fight against radiation poisoning. William had been following this road for a few hours now. It was the clearest path westward through this dense mountain forest. Soon he’d have to find some place to sleep. He didn’t have a tent with him so most nights were spend under makeshift nature shelters or the clear night sky, if he was lucky he’d find an old house or something akin to it, provided some horrible insect hadn’t made its home in there. Tonight was turning out to be one for the outdoors when the wastelander suddenly stumbled upon an old town sign.

‘Rockerville’ it said with gold painted letters underneath a little town emblem of sorts. Most of it had flaked off though, leaving only the uncolored fonts and lines underneath.

Below the name there was a little history, detailing it was a town created by the gold rush from the late 19th century. Not that it mattered to Will, he was just glad he had a roof over his head tonight. As he peeked over the sign he could see the forest opening up and a single road town stretched before him. The town was surrounded by the woods and hills like the road it was built on. The houses didn’t immediately meet the two-lane route crossing through but were separated from it by sand and gravel. There, some old cars and truck wrecks stood parked for all eternity. As William approached he noticed most houses were stores. A drug and ammo store to the left and an old diner and gas station to the right. The place looked deserted at first glance.

“Perfect.” Will thought as he wandered in. Dust flared up with a little breeze, sifting over the road gracefully and unhindered. That was about the most activity he expected to come from this town tonight.

The diner’s windows were covered in brown dirt and had turned opaque from two-hundred years of dilapidation. In front of it there were some old worn wooden picnic tables. “Carla’s” an old neon sign with an arrow pointing towards the door read. Will wondered if perhaps he could find some old conserved pre-war food. He could really go for a tinned peach right now actually. Van de Poorter diverted towards the Diner and got close, walking passed the outdoor tables and tried to catch a glance of what was inside by pressing his face nearly against the glass and forming a shield over his eyes with both hands. The evening sun shone right on the windows making the already dirty panes impossible to look through. Will got rid of some of the dirt by sweeping it off and tried looking again. Inside it looked like your standard American Diner, domino-tiled floor, a jukebox,  red and metal rim counter, all of it. But more importantly, he spotted no hidden traps or mechanisms. It was safe to enter.

The door had a little bell above it that still jingled when customers, or in Will’s case, wastelanders entered. But that was about the only sound that came from the Diner. No Carla was going to walk out from the back to greet new clientele. From now on, this place was self-service and Will hopped over the bar in search for a pantry. This backwater was evidently never hit by the bombs and neither was any place nearby so the chances of finding human remains caught in their final moments seconds before the blast was minimal. No, the residents had probably dropped everything and fled, only for the fallout blowing over from urban areas to take them. The wastelander going through the pantry wasn’t too bothered by that though as he casually tossed aside foodstuffs that had rotten and searched for anything in a tin or other preservative.

“Ah-hah.” Will happily mused to himself.

He had found tinned prunes. Not quite a peach but it would have to do. He walked back out and expertly jumped over the counter and onto a bar stool. Once seated he took out his hunting knife and put it down on the lid’s lining and with a strong stab managed to puncture a hole in his prize find. As he peeled the lid off he smelled the faintly acidic yet sweet scent of room-temperature canned prunes. After which he put the lid to his mouth and let the pieces slide down his dry throat, not minding the fact some of the juice stained his blond beard. He got most of the contents in one swig but just as he was about to go for another round he heard something outside. Quickly he put the tin down and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. His ears perked up like a predatory animal. Was that? Music?

This town was not deserted, to William’s dismay. He had hoped on free accommodation but it seemed he’d have to pay whatever weird hermit trader lived out here. Or he could just kill him… But Will had decided a long time ago he was above that now.

<p class="MsoNormal">With a sigh he got up from his seat and walked outside to see where the music came from. Apparently, it came from everywhere. It was an old country-pop track being played on some speaker system that had been installed around town. Who knows what for, but clearly the set-up was pre-war as William noticed one of the old horn speakers attached atop a wooden pole next to the diner with little red, white and blue flags hanging from it.

<p class="MsoNormal">Still, there was no person coming out to greet him, there was just Patsy Cline reverberating around town. William wanted to call out for someone but he didn’t trust this. He did not walk back to the middle of the road, instead he decided to remain on this side and walk towards the gas station. Red Rocket, Diesel and Fusion it read across the slanted canopy. Somehow Will thought he’d feel more at ease when he was under the large cover and not ‘in the open’. There was a little convenience store attached which he decided to check out. Perhaps the source of the music came from there. He passed an old Nuka-Cola freezer and ice box when he went inside. A lot of the tools ‘for sale’ where still there and in not too bad of shape. For anyone who was a scavenger or a trader this would be a gold mine, but William preferred to travel light with only the bare necessities at his disposal. But apart from the scrapper’s dream there was nothing else of note here. A little robot mascot keychain caught his attention before a distant but loud bang and an ear shattering clatter disturbed the peace.

<p class="MsoNormal">A sniper had taken shot at him. Will quickly ducked and leaped behind the counter. He felt his adrenaline surge and also a sting in his right leg. He looked down to see a hole through his pants and blood pooling out. He had been shot right through the leg.

<p class="MsoNormal">What followed was a cold shiver down his spine and the most guttural of roars. He couldn’t lose his leg. Not now. Survival instincts kicked in but he tried to remain calm. He assessed the damage. It didn’t appear to have hit his bone, but it got bloody close. The bullet had gone clean through. Will even saw the crack in the tile floor where the bullet had found its end. This sniper had a top down view, probably from the roof of a house across the street. The former secret agent reached for his pocket and pulled out a stimpak. With little time to lose and dedication he quickly jabbed the needle above his wound and let the contents hit his bloodstream sterilizing the wound and pumping morphine into his system for good measure. Will almost bit off his tongue as he clamped down his teeth, his hand dropped the pak and started to shake growing slightly numb which he tried to combat by bawling it up in a fist which he shook in a small tantrum, careful not to let any piece of him get out from behind the counter.

<p class="MsoNormal">“God fucking piece of shit damnit!” He managed to yell out from the pain. He was slowly composing himself again. That was the first time in a long while he’d been shot. Now breathing heavily through pain and rage he pulled his broomhandle pistol from his chest holster and continued to lean against the counter for a while longer. As he slowed his breathing he could only hear Patsy Cline, still singing her song. To his dismay the stealthboy hadn’t recharged yet so he had to deal with this the old fashioned way.

<p class="MsoNormal">He had a general idea of where the sniper was, but he wasn’t sure. Considering he shot him from a vantage point and knew Will wasn’t heavily armed it was safe to assume he hadn’t moved yet.

<p class="MsoNormal">The secret agent waited. This counter was in a corner and there was no back door or other escape route. He’d have to go back the way he came to get out of here. What a shit situation he found himself in now. Will had little options until he remembered this gas station convenient store was filled with car parts and DIY tools. He slowly turned back as he tried to not move his leg and opened the little cabinet doors of the counter. Inside was an assortment of little tools, a mousetrap, a rubber hose for diesel transfusion, and bingo! As luck would have it: stick-on rear-view mirrors for those fancy glass dome cars that didn’t have them. With a strained look on his face Will pulled one out, along with a wrench and some duct tape.

<p class="MsoNormal">The sniper grinned as he had his sights trained on the counter. Waiting for just a glimpse of his prey to pop out.

<p class="MsoNormal">Will had taped the mirror to the wrench and carefully poked it out with an angle so he could see behind cover without exposing a limb. Slowly but surely he got a view of the building right across. It was an old drug store with a false front wall that extended the height of the building, it looked very much like one of those houses from a western. And just at the top of it he could make out a.

<p class="MsoNormal">With a loud bang that smothered the music for a brief moment the mirror was shot to pieces and out of his hand. It felt like it was violently torn away by a man much stronger than he was. Will quickly pulled his hand back, just in case he had gotten too close.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Fucker…” He muttered as he rubbed his wrist.

<p class="MsoNormal">But at least he managed to get a glimpse of where the sniper actually was and if he was not mistaken that rifle was bolt action. So depending on how skilled the shooter was, he had a little time frame in between shots for him to move.

<p class="MsoNormal">The sniper laughed as he pulled open the breech to let the used round escape and quickly loaded another one in the chamber. He was obviously enjoying this little hunt, and admired his prey’s smart thinking.

<p class="MsoNormal">Will got his pistol ready. He was going to have to provide himself covering fire while he ran for new cover, hoping that his leg would hold out in the process. But first he needed to get the assailant to fire another shot for a window of opportunity to be created.

<p class="MsoNormal">The sun had just disappeared down the highest treetops to the west, now only shining dimly through the forest. Soon it would be dark and the game would only get more interesting.

<p class="MsoNormal">Will too was aware of the passage of time and he was going to use it to his advantage. He remembered his Thongzi training: “use shadows and night to your advantage.” And he would do just that.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Alright then… Let’s see how patient you are.” Will thought to himself as he got as comfortable as he could and waited for the fall of night.

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">Night fell. But even then there was no movement in the convenient store. Not for another hour maybe two. Both participants of this shootout where too focused. They hadn’t even noticed Patsy’s record had stopped playing, plunging the town back into an eerie silence. By now, Will could also feel his leg had healed considerably. Running would be possible. He sat in almost complete darkness. Outside there were no lights. Even with adjusted eyes, one couldn’t look as far away as they could during the daytime. The former secret agent carefully pulled off his jacket, making sure he didn’t accidentally stick a hand out of cover, until he had his jacket balled up and in both hands. His pistol lay next to him on the floor. He then got on his feet, squatting down as much he could but ready to spring up at any moment. Will could feel his right leg tingle in protest but he ignored it.

<p class="MsoNormal">Here goes.

<p class="MsoNormal">He threw his jacket out across the room from a low angle to one of the aisles to his side which immediately elected a response from his sniper who shot at the sudden dark shape that ‘ran’ across the room. William leapt over the counter and ran towards the door, bursted out and took cover behind an old pick-up truck parked outside. His ruse had worked. The sniper had obviously not anticipated the sudden action and his arms had no doubt gotten stiff from sitting in the same position for a few hours. The next couple of shots were all misfires, but close enough for Will to have his blood pumping. A bullet had hit the ground just before his feet during the run and after he got down to cover a rain of car glass trickled down on him in little pieces after the sniper shot the window of the pick-up. Will turned out of cover and shot three rounds with his own pistol. Due to them being 'all-piercing bullets' they pierced the façade of the false wall causing the sniper to retreat his rifle back into cover. After that Will had no second to lose he ran across the street as fast as he could. Due to the adrenaline it almost felt like his body was faster than his legs and it he could topple over any minute but he didn’t. In a few seconds he was leaning against the wall of the drug store his pistol aimed up at the vantage point.

<p class="MsoNormal">Silence returned to the arena. William could only hear his breathing and noticed his hand shaking while he was aiming it up. The sniper was most likely gone or perhaps he had already hit him but you couldn’t really take any chances. After a few more fleeting seconds he ran into the store, the costumer bell jingling as he practically bashed the door in. Quickly van de Poorter focused his aim across the room. He was uncertain if he could get on the roof from within the shop or if it was simply a ladder around the back. William assumed he was directly under the gunman now. And then it struck him, the whole room was filled with ancient furniture and cuckoo clocks which, surprisingly, still functioned. Actually the whole room was filled with all manner of finely crafted clocks and dials. All of them quietly ticking away the time. Due to their size differences the mechanisms didn’t all sound the same, nor were the pendulums equally as long so despite all that rigid and tightly wound order there was a lot of audible chaos. Will could swear at least one of them ticked in tandem with his heart rate.

<p class="MsoNormal">Were these pre-war or did the lunatic that lived her make them? A question that could be answered perhaps another time as Will carefully made his way around the craftsmanship, to the back door. There were no stairs so he assumed the only way up on the roof was by ladder. The backdoor was white painted timber with six rectangular glass panes neatly stacked in the middle. It too was as meticulously kept as all other woodwork in this building. Will looked through the little windows and tried to notice if someone was waiting around the corner. Perhaps the moment he opened the door he’d have his brains blown out from above. He then noticed a shadow in the reflection that wasn’t there before.

<p class="MsoNormal">The gunman was behind him. William didn’t hesitate a single moment, he flung himself to the side so he hid behind the table that happened to be there and he acted not a moment too soon because the next sound he heard was a bullet whizzing past and penetrating the glass he had just been staring out of. He quickly turned around and knew the man that tried to kill him was diagonally across the room from him now. Will sat up  faintly while still lying on his back and aimed through the table legs at his general direction and gave the assailant the same courtesy he had given him. Will wasn’t greedy with his bullets and had fired six rounds, a couple of which hit the man and he stumbled back into a big grandfather clock, backside first into the frail glasswork. As he yelled in pain he upset the delicate balance the ancient article rested on and pushed it back only for it to bounce off the wall and tip over on him. Crashing him under the heavy wooden box.

<p class="MsoNormal">Will dropped his weapon to his side. The pain in his leg wasn’t gone yet, but he carefully climbed up again with the help of the table that had saved his life, as he walked around it to see the lifeless body of the sniper under what looked almost like a casket, it was that big.

<p class="MsoNormal">Then the clocks all struck ten O’clock exactly and the little cuckoo birds popped out of their wooden nests to tell the time. It was somehow a quite ironic and faintly surreal image.

<p class="MsoNormal">William walked over the grandfather clock and sat himself down in an old armchair, pistol still in hand. He rubbed his eyes with the other.

<p class="MsoNormal">That was a close one.

<p class="MsoNormal">Who knew why this guy did what he did but Will assumed that living out here all alone was the main reason. Van de Poorter wondered if he’d eventually snap just like this man, before he noticed the assailant’s rifle on the floor next to a puddle of blood that was slowly creeping from under the fallen clock.

<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s not like he would need it anymore.” Will thought before leaning out of the chair to pick it up.

<p class="MsoNormal">Such was life.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">Will sat there, on his parachute, thinking back to when things were simpler when he suddenly felt light-headed and a bit of sleep wouldn't seem like such a bad idea. After that, William nodded off.