be gone, be far away

Checkmate

gardnersmuseum:

“Really not a they. Said Kolya specifically. We had a run-in back in the spring, almost had a good thing going, til I opened my fat mouth and he shut me out. Funny thing, though, I’ve been listening to the grape vine and I think he’s still in need of my expertise.” Gardner sniffed and pointed down at his prosthetic. “You know I got a history in medicine, right? Back where I grew up, I was taught chemistry. Specifically, they had me making drugs. Chems. I was making, and treating, addictions. It’s just something I have a knack for. So, Kolya,” he turned to look at the flag, “he’s got some people he considers like family, higher up in his gang. They’re trying to get clean. I can make them clean. Fixer’s a real bitch to find out here and the crap a lot of raiders brew up make you more sick than it’s worth.”

Gardner smiled. “I’d be doing good charity work, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” agreed Jensin, gazing stone-faced down at Gardner, “a real poster-boy.”

Ten years, and someone finally figured out how to black-mail him. Figures it had to be this asshole. Jensin probably could have been paid to do this job for whatever Gardner had paid his rat uncle for the information, but he was sure Gardner was aware of that fact. There was probably more to this than Gardner was letting on.

He bore one pearly-white canine tooth. “How are we doing this? Should I make the arrangements?”

Checkmate

gardnersmuseum:

“But of course not! I just took you out here to let you know, confide in my dearest friend. It’s my insecurities, you see. Do you think I’m making the right decision?” For a few tense seconds, Gardner pouted, and then shook off the expression into one of impatience. “Kolya does not think very highly of me. We may have exchanged some sour words in the past. But I do have something he wants, if I got him to buckle under a deal. I just really couldn’t do it without you.”

Jensin ran his tongue across his front teeth. “They aren’t very good about securing deals with people they don’t like, so I’m pretty curious about what you might have that they want,” he said. His mouth tasted bitter and gritty, as if he’d been breathing in the stench of a dust storm.

There was no doubt Gardner was well aware of his past work with the Dead Hand.

Checkmate

gardnersmuseum:

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You know Dead Hand? Of course you know Dead Hand. You’ve done your fair number of favors for ‘em, I’m sure. They didn’t get their mitts on all the trading routes on their own.”

The flag with the six-fingered hand flapped as Gardner watched. “That kind of reach, that power. They’ve got eyes in almost every corner of the city. Yeah, I’ve got my scouts wandering around, but I can’t trust those shitheads to not take it as a day off just ‘cause I’m not in the other room.” He flashed a grin at one of his guards. “Jensin, if anyone could help me find my man, it’d be the Dead Hand gang.”

Jensin had been wondering about the locale, but the mystery had now been clarified. Kind of wished it just for the looks, at this point. On top of that, hearing his given name said by this man gave him an uncomfortable chill.

“Well, what? Surely you’re not asking me to go in with you and hold your hand,” Jensin said, frowning.

Checkmate

gardnersmuseum:

“You don’t think I can figure something out? Come on, have a little faith. I know they’re paranoid, but all they’ve got is disadvantages on their side. We camp outside, they gotta open the door to shoo us off. If tinkering with the machine doesn’t work, we can use explosives, or time… starve ‘em out.” Gardner shrugged. “I’ve been at this game for a long time, Jensin. And I’m better trained than most.”

He let his gaze drift around the playground. A chilly breeze rattled the nearby fence. He sucked in his bottom lip and started circling again. “But y’know that’s not my aim, I don’t have any beef with that hole in the ground. We don’t gotta let that happen! I’m just trying to scare you. Because you know what I really want. Seems like you’re being useless on your own, though, so we need to turn to other tactics,” he explained. “I need to put out more feelers. Cover more land. Let him know I’m coming for him.”

Stopping in place, he nodded his head toward the distant flag. “I’d love to ask for help, but I’m not on good terms with a lotta folk.”

“I can’t imagine why,” returned Jensin, clipped and aggressive. He looked between Gardner’s guards and then back to Gardner. “Especially after all these years I’ve watched you dig yourself into a hole. It’s funny, ironic maybe.”

Jensin’s fingers flexed from a fist to an open palm, causing the leather of the Gauntlet to creak. “You have your hostage, your blackmail, and I’m sure you have a plan with my expertise in mind. I just want to warn you -- whatever you’re planning, remember the fate of every man who has dealt with the devil.” It always comes at a terrible price. He shifts his head to the side. “Now, what do you want from me, Gardner?”

Checkmate

gardnersmuseum:

“Oh, no, don’t lose your temper. It’s unbecoming. You’ve got to stay impartial about these things.” Gardner rolled his shoulders, smiling smugly. “But- but, alright, you’ve convinced me, since you’re already coming to blows. I really am just a dog. But I’m clever and I’m bored, and I need a new chew toy.”

As he stepped closer to Jensin, so did his guards, squeezing in around his personal space. Gardner had his hands in his pockets. “I dug up a big part of your mystery, and you can’t stand it. But it’s not just that. I always thought vaults were funny because they’re supposed to be so safe, but once that door is open it’s just shooting fish in a barrel. That’s baaad, isn’t it?”

At Gardner’s approach, Jensin remained still, trying his best to school his expression into something that wasn’t a snarl. He was a kid, when he left. He didn’t remember (or know) what sort of defenses a vault might have.

“Funny,” he spat, peering down his nose at Gardner. He was going to stick a knife in Abraham’s throat. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how to open one of those doors, do you? Dogs aren’t known for their problem solving skills.”

#hey look i drew some pokemon teams (for my fallout dudes))))#jensin #splinter #pokemon #my art

mindofmachine

i drew some pokemon teams for Some Boyz

slams out of my tomb, screaming aaAAAAAAHGHGHHHh

#im still here... im alive...#ooc

Checkmate

“It’s called conversation. S’not an interrogation. Relax.” Gardner smiled again. Friendlier, this time. “Just trying to let you know, I’ve been going around the block, pulling my weight in this whole ‘stopping the scourge of our community’ thing everyone’s just buzzing about… oh, and also letting you know… I wasn’t aware it was your uncle that set you up in the Zone.”

At this point, Gardner had moseyed a little ways around Jensin, and looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Keeping it in the family?”

Jensin immediately bristled, feeling tension crawl through his limbs and up his spine. It was difficult to school the features on his face, but he managed -- it was both a shock to hear of his uncle and that Gardner now knew who he was. However, Jensin would die before he would stumble before this man.

“Ah, I see why you have been out and about, then,” said he, voice like the spread of morning frost. His shoulders were squared; he looked like a mountain come alive. “You are a starving dog, looking to sink his hungry jaws in the throat of blackmail.”

Checkmate

“I heard that too,” said Gardner sullenly. “Do you think he knows he’s in trouble? Eheh.”

A forced smile cut across his mouth like a lightning bolt, lasting just as long. Swinging his good foot out first, he started to approach Jensin, stirring his guards to attention. They moved in after him like twin shadows. “Yeah, uh, I actually made it around to the Combat Zone. I thought I’d ask around there and let people know I’m still alive. Did you know they still talk about you sometimes? Why did you ever leave?”

Jensin balked, seeming confused by the change in direction. He didn’t know where this was going and he didn’t like it. He stayed, unmoving, in his position.

He finally said, “I felt like I had something better to do than knockin’ out peoples teeth every day, I guess. It is what it is. Is this... relevant, somehow?”

Checkmate

“I thought you already were,” he answered with the cluck of his tongue. “I mean, s’a bit of an unofficial arrangement, but still. I’ve been keeping my feelers out. People are still seeing him. Dodging in and out of corners like a rat. The apple of my eye.”

He tilted his chin down, glowering. “You haven’t had any luck tracking you-know-who?”

“No, but I did send word to your scouts that I heard rumors of him in the north. He has been... very quiet, considering his past activity,” Jensin reported, moving little. He felt oddly nervous, like his words were transparent straight through. “All I have is rumors, I’m afraid.”

Checkmate

“Hm? Well, it’s got the blue open sky and… do you smell that? It’s the outside. I’m getting better at getting around.” Gardner lifted his prosthetic leg a little with pride. His eyes seemed glazed over and his smile was lopsided. He slipped his hands into his pocket as he put his foot down. “I thought it’d be nice.”

Jensin knew the ruins like the back of his hand and Gardner knew it. He was just going to hold onto that card for a while longer. “How are things going?”

“They’re going,” said Jensin, careful not to sound impatient. It proved difficult. “I have been very busy, as you might imagine.”

In fact, it was true. There had been a big fire at the Mudrunner’s place and they were accusing several different gangs of arson. Jensin still had the stench of burning hair in his nose. Maybe he should make something hot, like soup, to clear out his sinuses later.

“It appears you’ve improved your standard of living since I last saw you. It must be quite an adjustment,” Jensin continued. “Now, is there something I can do for you?”

Checkmate

Gardner was feeling very proud of his plan.

He wasn’t going to get ahead of himself, though. Not cocky. He was a good student and learned from others before him. Always send in a lackey before presenting yourself to the guy who could ostensibly kill you.

The meeting place with the Gauntlet was a derelict playground, identified by the crumbling metal playsets and rusted bolts in the ground where swings used to be. It was chosen for two specific reasons: It was somewhat open and non-threatening, and it was in eyesight of a horizontal flagpole jutting out past a few buildings. Stuck on the end of that flagpole was the head of a deathclaw. A gentle breeze shook the makeshift flag hanging below, sporting an emblem of a six-fingered hand.

The first person Jensin would see was a heavily armored man with a rifle over his shoulder. He strode out onto the asphalt, looked the other man over through the holes in his helmet, and turned around. “Come on,” he called out.

Second bodyguard in tow, Gardner emerged from around the corner. He was dressed down, chest exposed under some leather straps and a springy question-mark shaped peg leg making practiced stamps on the ground. He looked sheepish, already grinning, lifting his eyes upward to see Jensin like a boy meeting his date at a dance.

“Thanks for showing,” he said. “I know it’s kind of out of the way.”

Jensin had, briefly, debated on declining the meeting and feigning business; he did, after all, have a trial in three days and he didn’t really want to get wrapped up in something new. It was the strange, gnawing suspicion that had him finalize the deal and meet with Gardner. The location, especially.

So, Jensin arrived on time, right where he was supposed to be. It was a familiar junction, and somewhere he’d been regularly. He felt nervous. Stepping over a ratty, shredded jumping rope, he found himself again in front of Gardner. Gardner, and the biggest of his body guards, apparently.

He sort of wished he wasn’t a one-man army sort of deal.

“Yes. It is,” agreed Jensin. “I’m sure the location is relevant.”

#what do i have to say about this #brenna said i should do it #about jensin

Hi my name is Jensin and I have a short wisp of blonde hair that reaches my forehead and deep amber eyes like coffee stains on old paper and a lot of people tell me I look like Lancelot (like the fantasy guy) (AN: if u don't know who they are get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to The Gauntlet from the fallout dlc that isn't a person but I wish I was because they're a major fucking hottie. I have tanned white skin. I'm also a muscleboy, and I police raiders in Boston, but deader where I'm tenth (I'm 28). I'm a chaotic good edgelord (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly dark leather. I love the leather emporium and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a a scruffy tanktop with many questionable stains) and dusty grey trousers that make my butt look great, cool glove and leather boots with weird, sexy spikes. I was wearing apparently eyeliner. I was walking outside Raider Dumpville. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of wasteland goths stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them. "Hey Jensin!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was... Jack!

http://myimmortal.neocities.org/My%20Immortal%20(1).html

nevergetsbetter

Jack lingered heavily against Jensin like he relied on him for support before withdrawing slowly. Still holding his hand, he clapped his elbow and looked at him, then stepped back. “If you have somewhere to be, you should go soon before it’s dark. I’ll stay here at least for another night.” Jack turned his head toward the door and huffed a laugh, remembering something. “I should thank you for keeping me fed, also, I would rather not be radroach hunting…”