Mischief Night
So I know Halloween and the Mischief Night event is over, but I couldn’t help write Tobin being...well...Tobin. A car exploded to his left. A robot exploded to his right. Chaos reigned all around him, urged on by this...this floating harbinger of madness. Tobin's fellow Vault Dwellers lit bonfires on the Whitespring’s grounds, scorching the manicured lawn. Whitespring security, pristine white, swarmed the group in groves, firing on the mischief makers in defense of their property. The Eyebot responsible for all this, JES-2R, floated by. Best to stay close, Tobin decided, and snuck along behind.
“Come with me! We’re going to make some” JES-2R crackled, “abject chaos. Activities such as arson, vandalism, and murder-”
Up the hill, they rounded upon the cottages. Somehow buckets of paint sat ready and waiting for them; Tobin took it upon himself to paint a hasty icon dedicated to the Mothman. An assaultron chugged past him; his ladder wobbled.
“Maintain situational awareness. The grounds are not secure.”
Tobin kept close to the cottages, occasionally pressing his hand against the dormant keypads and taking candy cautiously from the bowls outside. Twice the bowls beeped a warning and he had to scramble to escape the mines that erupted. He found safety by JES-2R again, hovering beside a pyre.
JES-2R bobbed closer. “It’s another chilling reminder, dear listeners, to,” static hissed again, and the voice whined, “try harder! Can’t you do any better?” The bot would have stamped a foot if it had any.
Tobin whimpered and clutched his rifle closer. Self-preservation was the most basic of instincts. What more could he do without the fear of lasers or robots?
He kicked over a traffic cone.
Anarchy.
The eyebot seemed satisfied, and moved on towards the Whitesprings carefully tended garden ahead of the former residents of Vault 76.