fallout-lou-begas:I don’t ordinarily drink with strangers,I most usually drink alone.You were
fallout-lou-begas:I don’t ordinarily drink with strangers,I most usually drink alone.You were so awfully nice to me,and I’m so terribly far from home.— “Something Cool,” June Christy (1954) It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’#7 - Mojave Outpost I «« First | « Previous || Next » | Last »» Warnings: blood, cw blood, tw blood; gore, cw gore, tw gore Companion Piece: “Scar Tissue” (6.2k words)Tumblr Link || Read on Archive of Our Own Notes / Original Pencils: Keep reading Archive Links«« First | « Previous || Next » | Last »»Transcript:INT. Mojave Outpost, barracks. Evening.An empty whiskey glass sits on top of a buyout offer from Crimson Caravan company, signed by ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, who has the last of that whiskey held in a shot glass.She and AGNES have been talking for a while.CASS: Wow. So one bullet did all that?AGNES: No, not all. Just the eye and the entry wound. The rest are from, uh, before.CASS: Shiiiiiiit, what’s you even do? Bring a fist to a knife fight?AGNES: Oh, I…I…FLASHBACK: INT. Bomb shelter.AGNES winces and sweats as she remembers one vivid image: herself as a child, huddled against the wall of a pre-war concrete bomb shelter, with one hand holding her mutilated face together and the other hand death-gripping a claw hammer. A spilled toolbox and a trio of desiccated corpses are strewn across the floor between herself and a mangled, smoking, dented Mr. Handy robot, its buzzsaw appendage still thrust up in the air and smeared with blood, dripping and oozing to the floor.INT. Mojave Outpost, barracks.Back in the present, AGNES shrinks into herself, morose. She quietly responds to CASS.AGNES: Yeah. It was something like that.CASS: Tch, what a fucker. At least you’ve still got your good side.AGNES: Huh. What good side? It’s like bad and worse.CASS: No, I mean it. The scars aren’t even that bad. I’ve seen people get glassed so hard that they look like feral ghouls after getting up. If they get up. Besides, they’re character, and I like character. You seem like a tough bitch who can really handle herself, plus I just think they’re uh…hm…interesting, y’know? …Fuck, that sounds so shitty, I’m sorry. What I mean is that you’ve got a face I can’t forget, in a good way. And that means a lot, given how drunk I am.CASS raises her whiskey glass and polishes off the rest of what was inside. CASS: Aaaanyway, did you want more drinks?AGNES is a bit stunned by everything CASS has said. She hesitates, deliberating, before smiling weakly.Agnes: Fuck it. Sure. -- source link
#volume 01#ikroah archive