and yet you walk.

Truth is, game was rigged from the start. indie courier six. fallout nv. nsfw / 18+. #twototheskull

[twototheskull]

Thinkin real hard about bringing Gil back on a sideblog. I love her (and I love the look of this blog) but Tumblr’s new login system is a helluva burden.

[twototheskull]

   “Check it out. I went into ED-E’s firmware and added like twenty new audio samples to his track list.” Vaguely, off in the background, the Eyebot bumped into a long-rusted street sign, beeped before buzzing out an off-tone H O W D Y. “And I tied a knife onto him so now he can ram people.”

[twototheskull]

pneumatiicgauntlet:

“I don’t see myself getting power armor anytime soon. I may be a scribe, but I think the true reason they didn’t give me such sweet armor is because then they knew I would be too powerful to control.” It was a bad joke, but Veronica didn’t regret making it. Unless they found a set on a dead paladin—which she hoped never occurred—or happened to find a random set lying around she doubted she’d ever get to don power armor, it was a shame her training to use it had gone to waste.  

The bike sounded fast, she’d just assume 100…whatever the hell Gil had said was good. She’d been hoping for something more comparable, but in the Mojave there really was nothing. Faster than a nightstalker definitely sounded good enough, no fangs to the ankles at least.  

“Both.” Veronica admitted, give her enough time with a scrapped bike and she was sure she could eventually figure out how the whole thing worked, but a quick explanation would be enough for now. It was at least reassuring that courier knew how it worked instead of blindly believing in pre-war tech—not that she’d expect blind faith from Gil, but she’d seen others with such a naïve worldview and it had never ended well. “But for now, I’m good with a quick rundown.”  

Holy shit. The scribe could hear the crunch under the moving wheels and had to shield her eyes from the dust and dirt the bike kicked up, but holy shit it ran and it looked like fun! Her brothers and sisters would never believe her if she told them about this, but they’d sure find a way to lecture her about the myriad of dangers that was riding a pre-war vehicle after agreeing to follow a relative stranger on a relatively vague mission to a place she’d never been before. Eh, go big or go home. Anything beat grabbing groceries.  

Getting on the bike was easier said than done. The room left on the bike wasn’t exactly spacious—not that Veronica was complaining about having to sit close to a woman like Gil, definitely not—it was just she’d never had the chance to get onto a motorcycle before. To say Veronica was anything close to graceful was a lie, the scribe swung one leg over the side a bit awkwardly, before taking a few moments to situate herself to where she didn’t feel like she was going to fall off, but wasn’t pressed up against Gil too much. The scribe took hold of ED-E, smiling to herself. The open road, an actual working pre-war vehicle, and being within close proximity of an attractive woman, things were beginning to look up.

“Ready when you are!”  

   It was a pleasant thought, if nothing else -- certainly be easier to steady her hand and snipe properly when the Vipers, or Powder Gangers, or whoever was more concerned with four-hundred pounds of pre-war tech stomping towards them. Maybe if she ever hit it big in Vegas, could pay a scavving crew to put together a proper Highwayman. But such daydreaming was for another time -- needed to get to the Outpost before dark if they didn’t wanna risk a crash. 

   “ED-E: null companion protocol. Enter sleep mode for repair.” The Eyebot complied, playing a quiet little tune as his thrusters powered off. No need for him to burn energy, or to accidentally scald Veronica’s arm with a stray bump. 

   Alright, in fairness, she shouldn’t have expected the scribe -- who was surprised that the motorcycle even worked -- to understand how to ride passenger. Maybe Gil wasn’t the best teacher, but what she did, she did for a reason. She accelerated just enough to make Veronica feel off balance from not having a proper grip before stopping once more, bowing her head to avoid cranium-to-chin collision. Only with the lurch of inertia enacted did she turn her head, loud enough to be heard over the purr of the engine. 

   “No, grab on t’ me. Not gonna snap in half, despite,” and here she paused, unwilling to admit weakness, “what y’might’a picked up from that display’a strength. Can’t imagine y’got cooties worse than I got.”

[twototheskull]

tankbitch:

@twototheskull ♥

        “hey, yeah, can i borrow your little robotmabob? I have … 

                                                … a plan.”

   “Lemme just cut’cha off early, here: riggin’ explosives to ED-E is not a plan.”

[twototheskull]

If you don’t think, if Gil was ordered not to kill Benny and let him stick around in the Tops, that she wouldn’t just sneak around and gaslight the shit out of him, you are completely wrong and you should subscribe to my Patreon for more details.

[twototheskull]

   “Some’a the stuff House keeps in the 38′s suite is bizarre. Apparently, instead’a just washin’ up your teeth with a rag and water, pre-war folks used to use this...mint slurry with a special brushstick to do it. I tried it, and I did feel clean, but...who’s gonna put that in their bag? I could use that space for bullets, or caps.”

[twototheskull]

pneumatiicgauntlet:

twototheskull replied to your post: veronica do you like the courier :3c…

veronica do u like me :3c……………………………..

……………..I don’t know how to hear suddenly.

   :3c........

[twototheskull]

pneumatiicgauntlet:

The way Gil said the word ‘friend’ made Veronica believe it was anything but. The scribe wasn’t sure what Gil was visiting them for, to get money back from some sort of debt, revenge, merely to catch up, it didn’t matter as long as it wasn’t something like slandering the Brotherhood name or making some orphans cry, or even–God forbid–talking bad about the use of fists in combat. 

“Maybe I can fix up a bike and learn how to ride myself, I’m sure my family would love that. How fast can this thing go?” A way to make Veronica be able to pick up supplies and be back within a day, just in time to cause more fights because of her views on how they needed to change? She bet Elder McNamara himself would be willing to leave the bunker to make Gil regret ever giving Veronica the idea and the means to fix up a bike in the first place. 

“I’ve seen crazier things than fusion cells work when it comes to certain things, maybe prewar vehicles aren’t so different.” Though her personal stories about accidentally making things either smoke alarmingly or even catch on fire before finally working was best left for another time, they didn’t know each other well enough for her to begin on those embarrassing stories. Ah, the memories of a misspent youth. 

Veronica’s face lit up as the vehicle started, louder than she had expected, but she was just in awe that it was working as intended. Things never seemed to go as planned so for this to even start was already a promising start. 

“How do you make it go?” Probably best left to ask when they were on the motorcycle, but she doubted they’d be able to converse when Gil would have to focus on driving, with how uneven the roads were she doubted it would be the smoothest of rides–but it would definitely beat walking, that was for sure. 

   No need to saddle Veronica with the truth. Gil’s conflict was between herself and the stripe-suited SOB -- and to a lesser extent, with his Khans. Hadn’t even said his name aloud since she’d read it on Manny Vargas’ terminal. It didn’t do much for the air of companionship to know that half the party’s goal was to shoot a man with his own stupid little gun. 

   “Not sure that she’ll hold up under the weight if you’re wearin’ power armor, but I guess y’could always reinforce it.” Not that Gil had ever so much as seen a suit on a live Brotherhood member, that was. “She can hit a hundred on the dial, but it’s not like there’s much to compare that against, unless you wanna look at the old traffic sign advisories. Damn sight faster than the best runner, or even nightstalkers, ‘s for sure.” Patting down her pack for a motorcycle helmet...nothing. Eh. No big loss. She needed to feel the wind in her hair, anyway. 

   “Are you askin’ about a crash course in bikes, or just how a combustion engine works?” The old text was clear as day in the back of her mind. Not a lot of people were too interested in her bike -- maybe because she preferred to ride it at night, buzzing on Cateye, and not showing off that she had it. “The engine turns pistons into rotary motion, and the transmission moves that energy to the back wheel. Pedals control the back break and the gears, and the handlebars control the clutch and the front brake, and point the wheel where I want it.” 

   As if to explain -- and not without holding her breath -- Gil popped up the footrest, revved the engine, and felt the ground rush beneath her. Yes! It worked. She indulged herself in a quick couple of donuts around Veronica before stopping, a wild grin slashed across her face. “Alright, hop on. We can make it to the Outpost before it gets proper dark. ED-E! C’mere.”

[melancoliedesames]

[twototheskull]

cancelled: sword gf

new: energy weapon wife

[twototheskull]

pneumatiicgauntlet:

Pre-war weapons were one thing, pre-war vehicles were another thing entirely! If anyone had told Veronica they could get a pre-war vehicle to be anything more than a bit of cover or a nuisance she would have thought it highly unlikely. Of course, her family had never been interested in vehicles, just weapons, or even pre-war knowledge that they felt was ‘too dangerous’ to be in the hands of others. Veronica wished she’d been reassigned as a ‘procurement specialist’ sooner, what else had she missed out on because of her family’s sheltered ways? 

“If I can deal with the bunks back home being horribly uncomfortable, I’m sure I’ll find a way to survive this.” She didn’t care if she had to hold ED-E, hell she’d pay to ride on a pre-war vehicle! 

Veronica gave a nod, “The furthest I’ve been is the 188 Trading Post, my family said not to stray anywhere too close to the Strip. Too dangerous, but they didn’t seem to realize I have more than enough power in my guns to take out any threat.” She gave an exaggerated flex, with one arm, as if the muscle could somehow be seen under the potato sack ensemble she was donning. 

“The 80′s?” Veronica was silent for a few moments, she’d heard of that gang from scattered reports the paladins brought, “My family saw them a few times from a distance, but said they must have relocated since they suddenly dropped off the face of the earth.” 

Veronica looked over the motorcycle with a careful eye. “Maybe I can look it over and figure out a way to make it more efficient?” She’d already expanded her knowledge past that of the Brotherhood’s preferred energy weapons to things more commonly found in the Mojave, and tinkering with something like a pre-war vehicle would definitely be a challenging, yet rewarding endeavor. “Maybe we can find another motorcycle to pull parts from when we get to where we’re going and I can rig something up.” 

   The gun show brought a snort from Gil, most unbefitting her leather-studded image so carefully maintained. “Careful where you point that thing. Girl might get twitchy, knowing you’re packin’ such heat.” Her cheer dissipated a bit as she tried to nudge the motorcycle down into motion. Fuck. It was pretty pathetic; she could barely hold a gun. With Veronica on the other side of the handlebar, though, no problem. Good thing she’d picked up such a muscle-bound freak.

   “Hm. Well, past Novac’s that old junkyard with the dog lady, ‘m sure she’s got a spare bike in that heap. Tell y’what, once we’ve hit Boulder City, and if I don’t find my friend, we’ll double back. I’d offer her for testin’, but without her, we’re gonna be hikin’ back up to Primm Pass. ‘Specially since we burnt most’a the day in the hike...I don’t wanna try taking Nipton’s roads without the sun t’see.” Somewhere, her younger self just shuddered. Letting something as boring as lack of sunlight dictate her wild rides?

   “Not that I don’t believe in ya, but short’a gettin’er to run on fusion cells? I dunno if there’s much in the way of progress to be made. People’a been ridin’ bikes for centuries.” That might just be her pride talking -- Gil didn’t like the idea that anyone could outdo her motorcycle repair knowledge. Reaching the backside of the drive-in screen, the courier ducked down, pulling an exceptionally unsafe, reused can of flamer fuel marked SPECIAL BLEND from her pack. “Alright, moment’a truth.” Ripping off the lid with her teeth, she carefully tipped the fuel into the tank, eyes shut to listen to the echo of the metal. After she’d declared it sufficiently filled, Gil stoppered both tanks, grabbed a special piece of wire hidden in the chrome, and stuck it into the keyslot.

   She held her breath.

   A sputter, and then, the motorcycle grumbled into life. “Haha!” Her grin was infectious. “We’re in business.”

[twototheskull]

tabellarium replied to your post: Chief perks: Cherchez La Femme, Heartless,...

Heck yeah, low per couriers

 walks backward and trips over dinky the dinosaur’s tail

did you shoot me in the head?

[twototheskull]

Chief perks: Cherchez La Femme, Heartless, Intense Training (STR), Jury Rigging, Miss Fortune,  Reinforced Spine, Silent Running, Sneering Imperialist, Swift Learner, Vigilant Recycler, Weapon Handling. Traits: Skilled, Wild Wasteland. Tag: Sneak, Repair, Survival. Weapons: Holorifle, Industrial Hand, Homemade Flamethrower, Nail Gun. Armor: Light. Leather Rebel / Raider Commando Armor -> Josh Graham’s Armor -> a ripped up combination of the two and Marked Scout Armor with a salvaged Riot Gear duster over it. Maybe wears Ulysses’ duster out of spite.

STR 1 (+4) (STR implant, Intense Training, Reinforced Spine) PER 2 (+1, PER implant) END 9 CHA 7 INT 7 AGI 5 LUK 9

Gil spent more time than the average Courier recouping from her gunshot wound, and paid for it with significantly atrophied muscles. Though she later made up for the lost strength with training, implants, and Buffout, the damage done to her nervous system rendered her perception nearly as poor. As such, she relies heavily on ED-E’s early detection sensors and a little boost from Coyote Tobacco Chew. Still, anyone with that much lead that close to her brain who lived to tell the tale must have someone looking out for her, right? Either way, rugged determination lets her keep on moving.

[twototheskull]

Trying to do Return to Sender. Chief Hanlon has left his post and is wandering around mindlessly around REPCONN Headquarters. I just wanna tell you Caesar’s got a brain tumor so you don’t have to keep fucking up the intel reports old man, go back to the camp and sit down.

[twototheskull]

pneumatiicgauntlet:

Veronica had never met anyone quite like the courier, of course most of her time had been spent alongside Elijah and then paladins who swore up and down that the best way to protect their family was to stay in hiding. 

The courier was a welcome change of pace, even if most of her habits were a bit….odd to the scribe. Veronica had never been this far south, and when Gil had turned off her pipboy she’d been expecting to hear the tell-tale signs of someone trying to sneak up on them and attack, but there was nothing…. Nothing at all… 

Still, Veronica raised her fist, glancing around just in case. Gil’s voice pulled her attention back to the courier instead of the surrounding area, a brow quirked and Veronica stared at the motorcycle in question. 

“A pre-war vehicle?” Veronica’s footfalls sounded so much louder in this secluded area as she drew closer to said pre-war vehicle. This wasn’t what Veronica had been expecting to see when they’d stopped here. “You sure all it will take is some oiling up?” She’d never seen a pre-war vehicle that wasn’t dilapidated beyond repair. Though, if this thing actually worked it would be a fun and new experience for the scribe. 

“Count me in. Maybe the deathclaws and other Mojave monstrosities will be so bewildered by the sight of this thing working they won’t try to kill us.” 

  “Yeah, this girl’s my baby.” So much doubt in her voice, for someone that, to Gil’s perspective, was supposed to be an oracle of pre-war stuff! Information the Followers never had at their fingertips available from childhood, and yet Veronica couldn’t fathom the idea that people didn’t always wanna walk everywhere. Especially not career couriers. “It’s not gonna be the most cushy ride, and you might have to hold ED-E, but it’s a damn sight quicker than walkin’.”

   Crouching down, the courier all but cooed over their reuniting, flicking off the Pip-Boy clamp and lazily discarding it to the side that she could better maneuver her fingers around the motorcycle’s piping and rusted chrome. Lucky, mostly – not a lot of sand buildup, thanks to the rags she’d stuffed into the exhaust. Wheel it out onto the road, hope that it could support two people + a robot, and then, whabam. Look out, Benny. Seemed to take a moment for Gil to even recall why she’d brought Veronica along – since all that time in a Goodsprings bed left her about as muscular as a ghoul. Wasting more time to rehab just let the trail go colder. This’d make up for lost time. 

   “Oh, right. You’ve never been that far up north, have ya? The 80′s use bikes all the time. Well, probably less now that they don’t have anyone to fix ‘em, but... I usually keep it with Nash over’in Primm, but I was gettin’ a weird feelin’ from the place, so I stowed it here.” If only that sixth sense applied to ambushes, not just NCRCF breakouts. “Only hard parts are gettin’ new wheels and keepin’ gas up, but tires’re everywhere, and maize grows like a weed ‘round here. Or just smash a few Mr. Handys.”

  Well, that was enough puttering over it. Hopping up from her crouch (amazing how much more animated she got over a simple bike), Gil took a handle, winced a bit at trying to make it move. No, strength wasn’t there yet. “It was only once, but I did outrun a Cazador nest on ‘er. Deathclaws? Well, I’m not gonna try and do donuts around the Quarry Junction. Help me move ‘er back onto the road. It looks good, but if we gotta, we can wheel her back to the workbench in Primm.”

[twototheskull]

anyway, for other couriers, basically cut out the bit where Gil’s story says ‘and then she worked for the Mojave Express’ and we have an AU. raider repair courier girl at ur service.

[twototheskull]

@pneumatiicgauntlet

   Never let it be said that Gil Montalvo was an altruist. 

   Almost as soon as Veronica had insinuated her way into her company, she’d turned back south, hiking through the Primm Pass towards a stash that her post-rehab strength simply couldn’t recover alone. Two pairs of hands, though... Yes, taking the Pass was leading them, in reality, away from Vegas, given the infestation of the Long 15 north-west loop by Khans and Deathclaws, but this was a diversion worth their time. 

   At the sight of the long-rusted drive-in screen, the Courier hit the Pip-Boy’s radio, shutting off the cheery voice of Mr. New Vegas mid-story, and listened. No, besides the gentle hum of ED-E’s anti-grav, nothing. Maybe it was paranoia talking, but the last time Gil had gone off the path, she’d ended up buried alive. Silence. Probably seemed a damn lunatic, and rightly so, as they headed beyond the drive-in: it certainly wasn’t an impressive stop. Just a lean-to, with a roof of rusted metal and two walls of mountainous crag -- but it had a bed, and a little fire-pit, and for a long-haul courier, the sight of the vehicle hidden in scrub brush was a sight for sore eyes. Her motorcycle. She could’ve cheered. 

   “Paydirt. C’mon, Veronica. We get her back on the main road and oiled up, it’s easy ridin’, long as we stick to the Fifteen.”