#gxnnut

[chaoticourier]

@gxnnut

[iamxiangjin]

@gxnnut || Continued from here.

      "The past is not so easily destroyed," he said with a touch of a frown. "There are such things as legacy, and bloodlines. Through them, the past lives on. And to try to bury it, you only fuck yourself over."

[ironboundwastelander]

The Bastard and the Wanker (Closed RP with gxnnut)

By most accounts, putting out a casting call for assassins is a poor idea at best. At worst it’s genuinely suicidal. Of course, a man who almost always has a pair of power armored goons at his sides can afford to do this sort of thing. He’d put the radio advertisement out over the past week and he’d kept his schedule clear. As the advertisement had said “If you need caps and are highly skilled with a gun, come to the Lucky 38 Casino at 2PM on any particular day. All applicants guaranteed an interview.”

Vlad adjusts his necktie a little, taking a sip from his drink. His office, formerly the place where he had met Mr. House, now the face of the pre-war billionaire has been replaced by the blank smile of Yes Man on the big screen. The new Autocrat of the Mojave has told him to be quiet unless spoken to or if it’s a crisis, since it unnerves people enough without him talking. He pours a glass of brandy and puts it at the position across his desk from himself as he checks his watch, seeing that the time comes close. If there’s an applicant, he’ll look courteous, if there’s not, then he gets two drinks. His two bodyguards shift their weapons, a plasma rifle and a laser rifle towards the door, just in case somebody tries something. When the elevator door opens, Vlad smiles and stands up.

“Good afternoon, welcome.” The instant the man enters several securitrons around the large room turn and watch.

[8thcourier]

@gxnnut

one fist thumps, somewhat indelicately - on the top of the stereo unit.  there’s a trickle of power, not a lot, but it should be enough to get the thing to play the small raft of holotapes he has laid out on a table behind him.  

as jericho has something of a knack for repair, you might be mistaken for thinking he’d attempt to fix the damn thing with something other than brute force.  but - from experience - sometimes the most subtle way to repair something was just to beat it into submission by sheer force of will... or sheer force of fist.

to his surprise - and ushering forth a sense of smug satisfaction - something inside the housing knocks and rattles ( probably a damn bloatfly larvae dead in the mechanism... ew ) - but the tape clicks into the slot and begins to play --

‘if you find this, i’m heading to concord.  i don’t know where you are, but i hope you make it there.  i’ll be waiting at the church with the others....’

when those tapes play, he always tries to imagine the person on the other end.  what they might look like.  who they might have been ( past tense... there’s usually not too much hope that either creator or intended recipient still survives... though it’s not entirely unheard of... and as a ‘courier’, there’s something about messages that has him collecting them like a crazed magpie ).  he also kicks back into a dusty armchair in the abandoned house - picked clean of most valuables at some point, eyes closing as he listens to the voice that emerges from crackly and tinny speakers.

‘...if you haven’t got there by the fourth, i’ll leave the bag in the sewer grate behind the speakeasy.  god, i miss you.  please come as soon as you can.  i don’t like these people.  i don’t trust them...’

well - a mystery bag from a mystery person with mystery contents.  that’d certainly give him something to do tomorrow.  when there was a little more light on the situation... poking around in sewers was never a splendid idea, even at high noon.

he’s almost lost in the voice - almost... but not enough to hear the creak of a door on rusted hinges, protesting at some force behind it - and he’s thumbing the hammer of the .44 at his side, just in case whatever was intent on coming through wasn’t exactly -- friendly...

❝ i appreciate it when people knock - not that it’s my house but - y’don’t wanna be givin’ no one a surprise - jumpy people make for jumpy trigger fingers... ❞

[headshothistory-blog]

starter for @gxnnut​

“You cost a pretty penny, but you’re damn good with a gun kiddo.” She said, ambling out towards the Capital Wastes. She was tired of the Commonwealth, mostly because it was boring, and there was nothing to do. So, she’d hired a merc and started off.

“You talk much, or is this gonna be a long walk?”

[decurionmortuum]

‘ i sneezed, oh, i’m not allowed to sneeze? ’

fifty vine starter sentences for when it’s 3am

“By all means keep sneezing, Jin. You sound adorable. I’d pinch your cheek but I feel you would charge me for it...”

[waketothefirearchived]

@gxnnut

The cigarillo was half burned away, the end cherry red every time he inhaled. Jesse shifted his weight before rapping gloved knuckles against the wooden door. He had never been in a brothel before, as he had never found himself drawn by the idea of paying. (Not when his charms could do the work instead.)

Worried that it might be considered rude, he ground the cigarillo against the sole of his boot. He tucked the remains in his pocket, not wanting to waste it. 

Jesse hoped the information the bartender robot in the Third Rail had given him was up to date. If so, he might just be in luck. He had spent most of his life as a mercenary, but being a bodyguard had the benefits of not having to run across the wasteland. 

[tothezeros-blog]

@gxnnut ♥’d for a starter!

"Just a heads up, you might want to step back from there." There being his dune buggy, currently parked beneath the overhang of a rundown Red Rocket, mostly hidden by some bushes and vines. Ajax stood with gloved hands on his hips, a brow cocked at the younger. He wasn't worried about the kid taking off with it, not like he could start it without the keys, but it was more trying to steal anything off it for scrap.

"Trying to remove anything without doing a special key combination will activate the turrets there on the sides, and you probably don't want that." Ajax didn't seem worried in the slightest, even walking towards the stranger, towering over him with a lackadaisical sway to his steps.