Fallout

Los Angeles Wastelands

a part of Fallout, by The Afterman.

None

Guest holds sovereignty over Los Angeles Wastelands, giving them the ability to make limited changes.
400 readers have been here.
2,592 readers have visited this universe since The Afterman created it.

Setting

Default Location for Fallout

Minimap

Los Angeles Wastelands is a part of Fallout.

3 Places in Los Angeles Wastelands:

7 Characters Here

Magnus J. Hunter [0] An explorer who can't stay in one place for too long.
[0]
Demo [0] "The best way to win an argument is to be the loudest"
The Pharaoh [0] A pessimistic ghoul with an intention of "more then survival"
Ethan Drakenson [0] He was the son of a soldier, Now he's one himself
The Ranger [0] "Not a lot to tell........so piss off!"

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A day had passed since Ethan smiled his big toothy smile when Michael had agreed to his request. Now he was at Nottingham's famous bar, rather infamous bar.
Ethan yawned as he remembered the fact they pulled an all nighter to get here. Ethan didn't mind the night, in fact he preffered it over the day, the darkness made him comfortable and made him feel secure. Now he patted his belt, he had made a good price from old robot parts he had found, not to mention the stuff he looted off the raiders who had the unfortunate luck to try and ambush him and michael. Ethan removed his hand from the heavy sack of caps when a familiar face proceeded to enter the bar. The magnum weilder from Ground zero had shown up, Ethan smiled and pulled out his fathers emblem and flipped it. When traces of a fight about to break out arose, Ethan gripped his crowbar, then remebered how good a fighter this one was and eased himself. When the ranger had went to sleep Ethan began to relax even further. He flipped the coin again. Then he noticed something interesting. A woman who obviouslly didn't know this man was going to try and steal something for him. Silently Ethan made his way over to them, not drawing attention to himself. Then clicking back the hammer on his.44 and aiming it at her head, he quietly grabbed her hand and stopped her from making the mistake. Ethan then whispered to her "trust me you don't want to do that." He clicked the hammer on his pistol back and placed it in it's holster. "Instead of making that mistake here." He took the bag of caps off his belt and handed it out to her. "I don't know what you need it for but if it's got you resorting to stealing from that guy it must be important to you. Take it, I can always make more." Ethan grinned reassuringly"

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#, as written by Guest
*Click*
"Unlsee you're trying to earn these caps, I suggest you take your hand back little lady", The Ranger said, .44 in his right hand under her chin. He took his left hand and placed his hat atop his head, and grabbed the bag of caps afterward. .44 still held to her, The Ranger examined this would-be thief: not too tough to look at. Afterall, she'd be the most remotely attractive thing he'd seen in a long time. Even the hookers were starting to get stale. Still, he returned his attention to the situation at hand. "The law of the wasteland's gonna get you killed dealing with me. I've ended the lives of countless psychopaths, rapists, serial killers and gang bosses..........trust me, blowin' your pretty little head off won't be any harder than breathing".
The Ranger pulled his pistol back, twirling backward into it's holster. He reached into the bag, handing the woman twenty caps. "Now get the hell outta here and leave me the fuck alone. And don't EVER try and steal from me again, got me?"
With that, he slumped back, hugging the bag and giving one last message: "That goes for every bitch and bastard in or outside this room!" after which he continued his long sought-after sleep.

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#, as written by Guest
*stupid double-post*

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(( your aware im giving her my caps right?))

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((so now i don't post unless i type it twice, this server is getting me irritated, anyway if you read my post i'm giving the girl my caps from selling raider gear))

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(( seriously this posting server is making me want to take the.44 in the head))

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Micheal entered the bar with Ethan still on a second wind. All nighters never bothered him, he never really had gotten much sleep in his travels. When they entered the bar commotion was going on, Micheal did his part, and stayed out of any trouble. If anyone wanted help they usually would confront him. However when Micheal was scanning the bar Ethan seemed to be stopping a pickpocketing incident from happening to a familiar man. He had seen him a day ago in that ground Zero place. Micheal was amused at the irony until the man pulled a gun out of his left holster, and pointed it at Ethan. Micheals over protective nature naturally kicked in at this point, and he strode across the room, the wood work creaking against his massive frame.

"I'm his excuse Stranger." Micheal cracked his knuckles menacingly, his power armor would be an interesting match against the mans .44's. If he did prove hostile Micheal wondered if his power armor would stop three or four bullets until he could get his hands around the man's neck. Micheal put his hands down, and rested his left hand on his Super Sledge.

"Now lets put the guns down, we were just passing through. I assure you we have no ill intent." Micheals deep voice rumbled through his helm. It was strange to see such a large and bulky man speak so peacefully. His burly hand was still wrapped around the hilt of his sledge waiting for the man to make a move. Micheal wasn't looking for a fight, and he was sure Ethan didn't want one either. The only real question left was. Is the stranger looking for a fight.

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-Outside the Los Angeles Ruins aka Boneyard: A few Hours ago-

Two Slavers Looked down at their recent catch, Ryder, after jumping him while he set up camp and slept. The Slavers had tied his hands behind his back and forced him to sit up on the ground while they both kept watch over him overnight, taking turns in sleeping shifts. As the Sun came up the other Slaver woke up and rubbed his eyes in a yawn.

"Dude I think we should start to get going We have some traveling to do to get to our main camp." The One that was recently looking over Ryder while his friend slept. The Other Slaver nodded as he stood up and popped his neck. He stretched his arms and looked at his friend.

"I'll inspect the the guy. Take those wrappings around his head off to make sure he isn't some ghoul or something. They don't sell very good you know." he said as he stood up. The Other Slaver nodded as he started packing things away on their Brahmin to get ready for the long haul. The Inspector looked down at what he thought was going to be their next prize. Ryder Looked up at the Slaver, but didn't utter a word.

"This guy had some pretty sweet stuff on him. A Backpack filled with a Shit load of Medical Supplies, some decent weapons, and that Black NCR Ranger Armor and Trench coat he's wearing right now. We can make a fucking load of caps if we sell all his stuff." The slaver said as he started folding the large tent. The Inspector nodded as he turned to look at his friend with a smile.

"Medical supplies, Traveling the Wasteland alone, strange wrapped face. Maybe this guy is Dr.FeelBad?" he said laughing at the Slaver Packing the stuff up. The Slaver stopped for a second and glared at the Inspector.

"Dude That Shit's for real I heard rumors from other Slavers that they spotted him walking this way. They said he got into a Legion Camp freed the Slaves then killed all the Legionaries afterwards." He said. The Inspector laughed and shook his head.

"Dude, Dr.FeelBad is just some Made up story created by Slaves out east in Texas to scare the slavers. He's like those pre-war stories of the Pint-sized slasher." He said as he knelt down to take the wrapping around Ryder's face off. His friend nodded as he ensured himself that the other was right and that all those rumors were just made up camp fire stories.

"So who do you think would win in a Fight the Pint-Sized Slasher or Dr.Feelbad?" The Man asked now trying to make the conversation funny. The Inspector turned his head to glance at his friend from over his shoulder. The Inspector rolled his eyes.

"Would you please finish getting the stuff packed up and let me finish inspecting our Slave here?" he asked as he turned back around to reach for Ryder. "Besides It would be the Pint-sized Slasher he's got that clown mask and is wicked strong." he said.

"Well I think it would be Dr.FeelBad he's got green hair and is insane." he said. The Slaver turned around picking up the folded tent and started putting it on their Brahmin. The Slaver packing would hear an "Oh my go..." then a loud thud hit the ground. "The Hell is going on?" the Slaver asked as he turned around to see his Friend dead on the ground with his eye stabbed in and the Green Haired Ryder standing and smiling at him, with a bloody combat knife in his hand.

The Slaver shook in fear has his legs locked up and he fumbled for the pistol that was holstered at his hip. "Aw, a fan thanks for taking my side in that little debate I do enjoy hearing what people think about that." Ryder said smiling at the Slaver. The Slaver finally managed to get the pistol out of it's holster, but Ryder threw his knife into the man's chest before he could aim it.

The Man laid on the ground as he bent his head up to look at the knife imbedded in his chest. He coughed up some blood then looked at Ryder as he walked towards him. "Ho-how did you untie yourself?" he asked. Ryder smiled as he knelt down next to the man. "Oh, Dr.Feelbad never reveals his secrets." he said smiling as he leaned in to finish the Slaver off.

-Nottingham: present time-

Ryder entered the Nottingham bar with all his gear back on his person. He had his Armor with Trench coat, old brown backpack with a medical bag somewhat sticking out, his head wrapped up in cloth with goggles over his eyes, and now with the head of the Slaver he was holding by it's hair. Ryder sat down on the bar stool and looked up at the Bar tender.

"Two Nuka-Colas please! One for me and one for my Fan here!" He said plopping the head on the counter while he bounced his head to right and left in a beat. "He's my Biggest Fan! He's my Biggest Fan! I threw a knife in his chest and chopped off his head! I stabbed his friend in the eye after he saw my face. Thats what they get because they were Slavers!" Ryder Sang then chuckled.

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-Outside the Los Angeles Ruins aka Boneyard: A few Hours ago-

Two Slavers Looked down at their recent catch, Ryder, after jumping him while he set up camp and slept. The Slavers had tied his hands behind his back and forced him to sit up on the ground while they both kept watch over him overnight, taking turns in sleeping shifts. As the Sun came up the other Slaver woke up and rubbed his eyes in a yawn.

"Dude I think we should start to get going We have some traveling to do to get to our main camp." The One that was recently looking over Ryder while his friend slept. The Other Slaver nodded as he stood up and popped his neck. He stretched his arms and looked at his friend.

"I'll inspect the the guy. Take those wrappings around his head off to make sure he isn't some ghoul or something. They don't sell very good you know." he said as he stood up. The Other Slaver nodded as he started packing things away on their Brahmin to get ready for the long haul. The Inspector looked down at what he thought was going to be their next prize. Ryder Looked up at the Slaver, but didn't utter a word.

"This guy had some pretty sweet stuff on him. A Backpack filled with a Shit load of Medical Supplies, some decent weapons, and that Black NCR Ranger Armor and Trench coat he's wearing right now. We can make a fucking load of caps if we sell all his stuff." The slaver said as he started folding the large tent. The Inspector nodded as he turned to look at his friend with a smile.

"Medical supplies, Traveling the Wasteland alone, strange wrapped face. Maybe this guy is Dr.FeelBad?" he said laughing at the Slaver Packing the stuff up. The Slaver stopped for a second and glared at the Inspector.

"Dude That Shit's for real I heard rumors from other Slavers that they spotted him walking this way. They said he got into a Legion Camp freed the Slaves then killed all the Legionaries afterwards." He said. The Inspector laughed and shook his head.

"Dude, Dr.FeelBad is just some Made up story created by Slaves out east in Texas to scare the slavers. He's like those pre-war stories of the Pint-sized slasher." He said as he knelt down to take the wrapping around Ryder's face off. His friend nodded as he ensured himself that the other was right and that all those rumors were just made up camp fire stories.

"So who do you think would win in a Fight the Pint-Sized Slasher or Dr.Feelbad?" The Man asked now trying to make the conversation funny. The Inspector turned his head to glance at his friend from over his shoulder. The Inspector rolled his eyes.

"Would you please finish getting the stuff packed up and let me finish inspecting our Slave here?" he asked as he turned back around to reach for Ryder. "Besides It would be the Pint-sized Slasher he's got that clown mask and is wicked strong." he said.

"Well I think it would be Dr.FeelBad he's got green hair and is insane." he said. The Slaver turned around picking up the folded tent and started putting it on their Brahmin. The Slaver packing would hear an "Oh my go..." then a loud thud hit the ground. "The Hell is going on?" the Slaver asked as he turned around to see his Friend dead on the ground with his eye stabbed in and the Green Haired Ryder standing and smiling at him, with a bloody combat knife in his hand.

The Slaver shook in fear has his legs locked up and he fumbled for the pistol that was holstered at his hip. "Aw, a fan thanks for taking my side in that little debate I do enjoy hearing what people think about that." Ryder said smiling at the Slaver. The Slaver finally managed to get the pistol out of it's holster, but Ryder threw his knife into the man's chest before he could aim it.

The Man laid on the ground as he bent his head up to look at the knife imbedded in his chest. He coughed up some blood then looked at Ryder as he walked towards him. "Ho-how did you untie yourself?" he asked. Ryder smiled as he knelt down next to the man. "Oh, Dr.Feelbad never reveals his secrets." he said smiling as he leaned in to finish the Slaver off.

-Nottingham: present time-

Ryder entered the Nottingham bar with all his gear back on his person. He had his Armor with Trench coat, old brown backpack with a medical bag somewhat sticking out, his head wrapped up in cloth with goggles over his eyes, and now with the head of the Slaver he was holding by it's hair. Ryder sat down on the bar stool and looked up at the Bar tender.

"Two Nuka-Colas please! One for me and one for my Fan here!" He said plopping the head on the counter while he bounced his head to right and left in a beat. "He's my Biggest Fan! He's my Biggest Fan! I threw a knife in his chest and chopped off his head! I stabbed his friend in the eye after he saw my face. Thats what they get because they were Slavers!" Ryder Sang then chuckled.

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(freak I'm having the same server problem! But for some reason I can see my posts on iPad and not my computer! And for some damn reason the website acts like I'm never logging in!)

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The young woman froze in place, anchored and unable to move. She nearly felt the audible sound of a hammer click back into place, near the back of her head and she stared hard across at the bartender—who was offering her no protection, but nodded disapprovingly. Her snatching hand was left empty and capless as Ethan slowly moved it from under the Stranger's coat. Finally, as if it had been forever, she took her first breath of air and gulped it back down when he whispered words of wisdom. However, when she realized it was a man who had grabbed her so, she pulled her hand away and nearly hissed. “Take your caps?” she seethed incredulously, finally taking a look at the man who'd appeared from nowhere. Who was he to meddle with her business? “I'm not a charity case, take your damned caps.” If it hadn't been for this man, she would've easily snatched the caps and been gone from the stale, dusty bar moments ago. Until the cold steel of another weapon grazed below her chin and she peered down the barrel of a model .44, mentally she cursed herself for knowing what weapon could easily blow her brains out but not knowing what to do in this situation. It wasn't every day she'd had two weapons pointed at her head by two pigheaded men trying to prove a point—yes, stealing was wrong. Most of what went on in the wastes was too horrible to describe, let alone stealing a handful of caps.


“Try it!” Ratchet demanded, inches from the threatening man's face. Even if she'd known better, she didn't know better, her head was as hard as Power Armour. Which she now noticed a second burlier, larger looking man in power armour lumber through the door and everything in her body was telling her to get out of the bar. The stubbornness in her raged as the Ranger explained very bluntly how it'd be next to nothing on his conscience to kill her, her jaw clenched and her Egyptian green eyes glared from Ethan to the Ranger. What surprised her even more than him holstering his firearm, was when he fished into his bag and handed her twenty caps. She stood there dumbfounded for a moment before her teeth grit again and she slammed her fistful of caps on the counter. She was about to strike the Stranger before he hugged the bag of caps, slumped back onto the counter and fell into a deep sleep. Ratchet just stared hard at him, her eyes nearly blazing before she made a sound between frustration and a growl. “You... men... think you know better...” Ratchet grumbled to herself before pushing the Ranger's given caps at Ethan's chest and pushed past Michael. She hadn't even noticed the other strange man totting a severed head. She needed a job. It wasn't like her to resort to stealing but it'd been so tempting. Now she was left leaving embarrassed, and capless because of her pride.

Ratchet didn't travel far, she stormed to the back of the bar where a couple half-hazard couches were lined and slumped down on one. "How freaking hard is it to find a job?" She sighed, brushing her fingers through her hair.

((Mine was doing that too for awhile. D: SO annoying. ))

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((looks like it still hasn't got any better, any one feeling shooting my guy in the head? ha ha joke))

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((I'll continue posting after Stranger and Michael does. :D *post maniac* ))

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(OOC: All apologies, I've had a hell of a time trying to log on...)

Roger turned to the second man, surprised that he'd found two men interested in solving his problem for him. Of course, this stretched the caps even thinner.

"Well, I'm sure you caught the gist of it so far," he said to the new guy. "Kill some raiders for me, get paid after, you know, standard killing-type deal. I'm afraid I can only really pay one of you guys, unless of you two would split the caps, which I doubt. Somebody throw me an offer, I'll pay whoever'll do it for less."

This was working out for Roger. He really didn't know what was acceptable to pay a man for killing several other men. He would see what the other men expected to receive, and maybe even whittle the cost down a little via competition.

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Demo thought awhile for a fair price and came up with, "25 caps." He wanted to start saving in case he ran in to some problems and needed to buy his own life... again. "15 if you got any Buffout." He NEEDED Buffout. Period. Addiction Withdraws bring a powerful bitch of a migrane and he didn't find any in the Wastes. "Bring me at least four bottles and you can give this fellow all the caps."

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Tapping her foot irritably on the ground, for once, Ratchet considered stomping back into the bar to reclaim the caps she so stupidly shoved at someone else. It wasn't common that two strangers offered her caps without any suggestion of “services” being done, which repulsed her. She wasn't a prostitute, and she wouldn't be treated as one. Huffing and seething as she adjusted the strap of her larger weapon strapped t her back, it seemed awkward and out of place there since she wasn't the biggest girl in the wastes. She glanced up to see the Ranger swaggering away down the dusty road and eyed him carefully, it seemed he was done with the town for awhile. Perhaps on another one of his missions. She still couldn't believe he'd just hand over his caps after she'd tried to snag them from his jacket—it was unbelievable, especially with his reputation. She was expecting her hand to be contribution for her deeds, and for a moment, it seemed like her bike mattered more than that.

Muttering her last incoherent swears, Ratchet gathered herself up and wandered back into the bar, but only a few steps in so that she could scan who'd stayed and who'd gone. When she'd walked out, her keen ears had heard the offer the rugged man had made for her. 300 caps was a very amiable offer, and one that no one could refuse if they had any sense. “I'll take it,” she finally said, nodding her head, “I'll take the job.” And for once in her life, she stuck out her hand to shake. Her green eyes were still leery of the offer being made but if it meant finally fixing up her bike, and the chance at travel, it couldn't be passed up. Any one else would have jumped to the bit and if she didn't take it now, the position would soon be filled. She counted herself lucky this man didn't look like a raider.

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Ah, bartering. Where everything goes to hell. Roger didn't have any Buffout, or much of anything for that matter. Hell, he didn't even have the caps for the job in full yet.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any Buffout. But think of the Buffout you could buy with those caps." Come on, assholes. Somebody just take the fucking money. Don't need things to get difficult. Roger maintained a calm and trustworthy expression.

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Ethan shook her small hand and smiled polietly. He looked her in the eyes, trying to make some sort of profile for the young woman, she was hard to read but he managed to tell she was just someone who was determined to survive, not someone trying to make it harder for everyone else."Great. Here," he took the small puch and placed it in her hand. "Its good to have you aboard, although honestly i have no idea what were going to be doing, i just joined michael myself, he seemed like he need the company." Ethan took out his father's emblem and looked at it longingly "I was taught that you should help people who need it." He smiled once more, then looked up and cleared his throat. "so anything I can get to work on, I'm kinda bored"

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Micheal was over by the bar quickly flashing his photograph of a young woman to the bartender. "Have you seen this individual?" Micheal inquired with only pure curiosity lineing his voice. The bartender sized him up, wondering if asking for caps would get his face caved in by Micheals hammer, or large fists. After a few moments the man slowly shook his head.

"I'm not good with faces." The bartender said with a fake preformance of defiance, and strength. Micheal understood the man's predicament all the same. If the man Micheal was questioning came off as a soft hearted man in any way shape or form he felt as if others would take advantage of him.

Micheal gave the simple nod of his head, and turned to see Ethan paying the woman he saw before. He felt slightly awkward seeing Ethan pay so many caps to someone for the simple task of traveling around asking a few questions as they walked. Frankly Micheal would've itched the top of his head if he could've, but that would've looked a bit strange seeing as how he was wearing a helmet and all.

Micheal returned his photo to its resting place, and strode back over to Ethan boards, and sheets of metal creaking under his weight.

"This place is a dead end." Micheal spoke in a rough metallic voice.

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"Fuck" Demo thought to himself as he said, "OK then 25 Caps."

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25 caps seems like a hell of a bargain for what he's getting himself into...

"Well," Roger said, "If there's no better offer from my other 'friend' here, we'll have ourselves a deal, um, Mister...?" He paused, allowing the stranger to fill in his name.

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"Demo" He said. "No other name, just Demo. Yours?"

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"Roger," he said. "Roger Reeds. Is Demo a family name, or something?" Roger's tone was of curiosity, rather than malice.

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"No, it isn't." He said. "I don't remember my real name, so i just go by that." It was true too, when his parents where murdered the trama caused him to forget all of his childhood memories. He was raised by a wastelander, who gave him the name since he was surprisingly good with explosives for his age. "It fits because I'm an expert in blowing things up."

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When Ethan took her hand, Ratchet nodded demurely, she tried to convince herself that this was a simple transaction. A transaction that didn't make sense, she wasn't used to random acts of kindness (she didn't think anyone was in the wastes), and any kindness was treated with caution, usually. She stared into his own eyes, trying to analyze what kind of character he was before breaking eye contact and their hand shake. When he placed the small leather sack in her hand, she shoved it into one of the many pockets she had in her military pants—away from the prying eyes of watchers and eavesdroppers, if any tried to snatch it from her, they'd be genital-less (if male), or dead. “Good,” the woman muttered, glancing over towards the other man Ethan had been travelling with. The only thing she liked about Michael was that she couldn't tell if he was male from the tin can he was wearing, which put her at ease. If she wanted, she could just pretend he was a women. The thought brought a wary smile on her lips before she glanced towards Ethan, who was fingering an odd emblem. “That's uncommon, you're a strange man, that's for sure.”

“You're looking for someone, tin man?” Ratchet asked nonchalantly, it wasn't that she was intentionally rude, but that was the way the wastes had shaped her. Honestly, she didn't expect him to just flash his personal photograph to her, so she just arched an eyebrow. “If you're expecting to find someone around here... you won't,” she began, before glancing out the pubs doors and adjusting the weapon's position strapped to her back, “Everyone who wanders the wastes always ends up in Rivet or Megaton, or dead. Either way, if he or she ever went that way, they would stay there.”

cron