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"War. War never changes.
The Romans waged war to gather slaves and wealth. Spain built an empire from its lust for gold and territory. Hitler shaped a battered Germany into an economic superpower.
But war never changes.
In the 21st century, war was still waged over the resources that could be acquired. Only this time, the spoils of war were also its weapons: Petroleum and Uranium. For these resources, China would invade Alaska, the US would annex Canada, and the European Commonwealth would dissolve into quarreling, bickering nation-states, bent on controlling the last remaining resources on Earth.
In 2077, the storm of world war had come again. In two brief hours, most of the planet was reduced to cinders. And from the ashes of nuclear devastation, a new civilization would struggle to arise.
A few were able to reach the relative safety of the large underground Vaults. Your family was part of that group that entered Vault Two. Imprisoned safely behind the large Vault door, under a city of concrete, more than one generation has lived without knowledge of the outside world.
But Vault Two was not without its faults. Birth control, a luxury so taken for granted before the war, was purposefully removed from the halls of Vault Two, a horrid experiment on overpopulation by the programmers of Vault-Tec, who not only removed any of the materials necessary to create suitable and reliable chemical or physical contraceptives, but any and all data on the databanks and books present.
As the years went by and the original Overseer passed and was replaced, and the confines of the Vault grew less habitable, the new Overseer knew he had a decision to make, and a tough one. He learned of the fault in Vault Two from the previous Overseer, and even knew of the failsafes that Vault-Tec had programmed into the system that would occur should they insert contraceptive education into the databanks, and so he devised a plan to save as many lives as possible. Rather than let war break out within the Vault when capacity was breached and supplies were diminishing, he decided they would hold a lottery each year and exile those who's name were drawn...A number of dwellers equal to those born minus those who have died...So that they would retain a zero population growth.
Yes, it was cruel to think of their fate, but it was better than death, or war, horrid war that had already destroyed so much of humanity breaking out in the one place that was supposed to be safe from war.
So every year a number was chosen, and the day was never the same. Sometimes it was in the middle of the night, sometimes it would be during the work day. The only way the people would know would be the speech the Overseer gave the next day, 'saluting the bravery of those who sacrifice so that we may live.'
You were one of those people chosen...
...and life in the Waste is about to change."
As the chloroform begins to wear off, you each begin to come to, one at a time.
The last thing you remember was settling down for sleep for the night, and now all of a sudden you can feel the dizzy aftereffects of the drugs, the rope around your wrists behind your back and your ankles, and the bulk of the outfit you have been put into. You can feel your breath pushing off a mask in front of your face, some part of the outfit, but yet your vision is obscured in total darkness. You are not gagged, and from the vibrations around you, you can tell wherever you are, it isn't standing still. Occasionally a bump or jut in the road and the sound of an engine mudffled by your suit clues you in to the fact that you are in some kind of vehicle. The heat in your outfit is unbearable, and it doesn't seem to breathe at all, as you can feel the sweat pouring down your bodies, clinging to the vault suit you have on beneath this strange bulky garb.
You aren't sure how long you've been out, but you're pretty sure what is going on. You've heard the announcements. Some of you have even been involved in making it happen. You knew this day could come...
Dot
Spaulding blinks a few times, then tries to sit up. What kind of trick is this? Who would play such a mean trick on him?... Then again... this must just be a dream. He shakes his head trying to awaken, but only suffers pain from the sharp movement.
Balls!
Fitz coughs as he breathes in a lungful of oppressive air.
Where....oh no... he thinks, realization coming swiftly.
Knowing escape is pointless, he waits patiently, if fearfully.
Spencer wakes up suddenly, blinking his eyes sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. After a moment's thought the sensations become familiar to him, although dulled by the fading sense of dizzy unconsciousness. The sweat, the trapped feeling, the grimy, not-quite-clear face mask that just noticeably obscures his vision. It's a radiation suit, the type he wears...
Right. His mind flickers back to recent events, the lead-up to the lottery and taking people to the drop. He knew he was going to be woken up that morning one way or the other--to take the group out, or, if the odds were against him, to be dropped off himself. And just in case, he had hidden--
Spencer tries to sit up a little bit to glance around, see if he can get a look at any of the escorts. And as he does so, he very gently brings his legs together, clamps his thighs to each other until he feels the slight pressure from the items he hid. Good. I figured they wouldn't want to get too handsy.
Hearing Spaulding's outburst, Spencer squirms around to look at him, as well as the rest of the "passengers." "Who all's here?" he whispers.
Spencer finds that his guess that he's in a radiation suit is spot on, the others, upon reflextion find it makes sense. Once the haziness of the forced anaesthesia wears off, they all begin begins to notice that their suits has had the visors blacked out. Spencer remembered it was something they'd started recently, when escorts started coming back sick, and they figured out that just outside the Vault was a pretty rad heavy area. "Kill two birds with one stone," the last escort leader had said, and they covered the visors with black tape.
A voice in the dark spoke up. It was a woman's voice, and it too was muffled by the sound of the radiation suit, and Spencer felt something hard press into his side.
"Easy, there, Spence. Let's not go making any hasty moves. I don't want to hurt you, hun, but I have my orders. You know the drill...we'll get you out of that when we get somewhere clean."
The voice had a southern drawl, and it sounded familiar, but they couldn't quite place it...except Spencer. He would never forget that voice. It was Jenny Allens. The girl's barracks she stayed in when they were kids was right next door to his, and she was his first kiss. He'd hoped it would end up more, but Jenny was always a tease and never grew close to anyone. Still they were always close friends. Even Spaulding new the woman; she had a younger sister named Tania who was absolutely heard over heels and followed him around like a puppy. The girl was only 12, though, so Spaulding paid her little heed, even though she swooned when she learned he even knew her name.
"It was a small draw this year, with that crop failure in the garden this year, and the power outages that happened last month when those babies were supposed to...well...you know..."
The voice trailed off for a while and then grew resolute. Spencer remembered one of those babies had been her own.
"That friendly guard that always looks sad, he's still out cold. It took a lot to put him under, so I'm guessing when he does wake up he isn't gonna feel good. There's also that guy who the other kids used to tease do his stutter and them Nuka Cola bottle glasses, Fitz. Pretty boy Spaulding is here, but..."
She started to snicker a bit. "You okay, Spaully? Took us some forceps and a good amount of patience to help you out, poor boy. Doc stiched him up quick before we got out here, but said we can't spare ya' a stimmy. Lucky for you, cause yer a cutie, Jenny snuck one where no hands are friskin', cause my baby sister thinks she's gonna marry you one day, and I don't want her to have broken material."
Jenny sighed. "If she ever sees you again. For her sake, no offense, I hope she won't, but nevertheless I got you a stimpak for that...special little injury. Honestly, hun, you really shouldn't try and hide a switchblade in your shorts. It's really not a good idea!"
"Tank and Dinger are in the from of the truck driving, and they aren't as friendly as me, so I'd be careful. I'll take the tape off soon as I can, but we aren't supposed to let you know how to get back home if we can help it. Meanwhile, since they're not here I can tell ya I grabbed and will conveniently lose an extra stim for you too, Spence. It will be oh so accidentally in your vault clothes when you change, so be careful not to crush it in your haste. Anyway, I'm the only one in the back of the truck with you four, so you can feel free to talk, though remember sweeties, I am packing, and not the same firearms you boys have equipped, so please don't get any 'take over the truck and drive back to the vault' ideas."
Fitz chimes in "How...how big was the crop this year? I'd almost started to hope there wouldn't be a culling after what happened."
You can hear another heavy sigh from Jenny as the truck hits a few more bumps in the road. "Not enough...we still are gonna have to cut rations to minimum even with this latest bunch. If we don't fix something soon, the next drop is gonna have to be a lot bigger."
"We're getting close to the drop point, boys. Won't be long now."
Spencer tenses for a moment as he recognizes the voice--not to mention what's probably a gun barrel jabbing him in the side--and then relaxes, letting Jenny talk. So I really was picked, huh. Damn. He blinks and shuffles, slowly, trying to get a little more comfortable in the suit. Least I'm ready for it. Spaulding, Fitz, and the guard? Maybe they can handle themselves, but... He sighs and leans back on the wall of the cabin.
"Don't worry, Jen. We aren't gonna try anything. I know how this goes down." He pauses and then coughs. "And, ah, thanks for the help. Means a lot."
Spencer sits in silence for a few more moments, but if nobody chimes in, he clears his throat. "So, Jen. I know this isn't a good time to ask, and it doesn't matter, but... you ever think about what it is we do with these? The drops, I mean. Seems like a less-than-ideal way to go about it."
Consciousness was fleeting for a long time. Darkness interspersed with sporadic sensation. But he could remember a little.
Mickey always had a hard time sleeping before the culling. And he had a sneaking suspicion it would be that night. But when no voice came over the intercom asking him to report for escort detail. He knew. He just knew.
So when the others arrived they found Mickey sitting up in bed, staring at a picture of Heidi, his girl. He hoped one day the mother of his kids. But that was before that damn steam vent exploded. It had been six months now. But it wasn't really any easier.
He recognized the folks who came to take him in. More importantly, he recognized the way they stood. They didn't wanna be here anymore than he did.
"It's okay. Not gonna fight you," he told them. They probably didn't believe him, but he didn't make any sudden movements. He laid down on his cot. Facing away from them, making sure they could get the back of his neck easier.
Chems worked funny on him sometimes.
He closed his eyes, and after about a minute he finally felt the gentle prick on his neck.
Mickey finally awoke with a low moan.
Man, oh, man. He felt like he'd taken another swig of Beatrice's Lightning Water. He smacked his very dry lips, and coughed.
And that's when he noticed the bindings.
"Oh, yeah. Almost forgot."
Mickey moved his hands around. The bindings were a little too tight. Not quite choking off circulation, but not too far from it either.
"Um, this is Mickey. Who else is here?"
"I'm Fitz and it looks like there's a Spencer and someone named...Spaully?"
"We're out of the rad zone, boys, so I am thinkin' Dinger and Tank aren't gonna mind if I take the tape off, especially now that you've all come to and we have an understandin'..."
Mickey will probably be in shock as he hears the names of the two in the front of the truck. Tim "the Tank" and Dan "Dinger" Morgan are his cousins on Mickey's mother's side, and they are thick as thieves. What were the odds they would have gotten picked for this trip? There's no way the Overseer could've missed that, right? I mean, they did work in his personal security team, but they never left the Vault for this kind of thing before!
One by one, Spaulding, Fitz, Spencer, and Mickey have the tape removed from the visor of their rad suits, and through the steam of their breath they can see what was going on. They are in the back of one of the older restored pickup trucks the vault was rumored to have hodden outside the doors. Judging by how much it is sputtering, this isn't one of the fusion powered machines released the year the bombs dropped, but probably an old gas engine converted to ethanol running on its last legs.
Jenny pulls the plasma pistol in her hand from Spencer's side and points it at Fitz. "I'm gonna cut you loose, hun, and you're gonna change out of that suit real nice and the untie each of these boys one at a time, alrighty?" In her other hand she pulls out a knife and proceeds to cut Fitz's bonds.
"Ah, right. I'll do that." Fitz says, and slowly shuffles around on his knees, fumbling to untie the knots in turn.
"You tied these quite tight, didn't you?" he says as he works.
Jenny smiles. With your vision no longer obscured you can see she'san attractive redhead, although the rad suit she's still wearing hides her figure. "I didn't do the actual tyin'. The boys up front did. They seemed to be in a pretty bad mood when this all went down. Don't forget to leave the rad suit in the corner. Overseer says we can loose a few vault suits, but we need the rad suits for future drops." Eventually the truck befins to slow down and as you all look around, you see it appears like you're pulling into an old highway rest stop. Wrecked vehicles litter the broken road, more rust than steel, and the street is more grass and rock poking through than actual asphalt. A faded green road sign covered with grafitti makes out,
"SpaSUCKITst 200
DaytBI+CHach 100
Along with another shield shaped blue sign featuring the number 95.
The sun is high in the sky, and even as you take off your rad suits you can feel the unbearable heat around you, and worse yet, the humidity. The air around is thick with moisture, and the only time you've felt anything similar is the steam room in the Vault gym.
The engine cuts off, and Jenny climbs out the back of the truck as the two muscular men climb out the front. The driver, whom Mickey knows is Tank, is a giant of a man, and the large hunting shotgun he casually slings over his shoulder seems like a toy in his hands, where the shorter figure, Dinger, seems to be more uneasy as he takes out a cattle prod and tests it's voltage. The doors shut, and they both nod silently at Jenny as they open the tailgate.
It was a good thing the mask hid his expression of surprise.
Dinger and Tank? Man, what they trade to get this detail? A sudden wash of cold ran down his spine. Tank had a kid on the way. He hoped he didn't do nothing too stupid.
Mickey nodded to Fitz gratefully when he cut him loose. He then rubbed his wrists to get the feeling back. He looked up at Jenny, trying to place her. She looked kinda familiar. Maybe Heidi knew her back when? He wasn't sure.
Mickey noticed a patch of dried blood on his rad suit as he was taking it off. He decided he didn't wanna think too hard about how that got there.
And then soon enough the engine shut off, and then the tailgate opened. He stared at Dinger and Tank and hoped he conveyed how much he didn't want them to risk themselves.
Once everyone is out of their rad suits Jenny reaches into hers and takes out two stimpaks, glaring at Tank and Dinger, almost daring them to call her on it as she hands one to Spencer and one to Spaulding, still grinning at the boy's unfortunate wound.
Tank and Dinger seemed not to care about Jenny's charity, having something of their own in mind. Tank was never a man for words, and with his shotgun in one hand, another reaches under the truck, and you can hear the sound of ductape tearing from metal.
Dinger speaks up for his brother. "When we heard it was you, Mic, well...we almost flipped and blew like a plasma cannon on the Overseer, but, well...ya know ya always were tellin' us to be careful and all, so...you know the custodian, Mike? We had him keep an eye out for useful stuff in the trash. You know, supplies and whatnot? We said it was for a project for the kiddies at the school or whatever about recycling and how we all waste useful stuff. He must have turned red as a commie when he saw Tank 'accidentally' threw out a first aid kid. Oops. Clumsy fingers."
He grnned, and Tank tossed him the package...when he opened it, Mickey could see, as he described, a full first aid kit , along with a leather belt, a slightly rusty but otherwise good switchblade , two cans of "Pork n' Beans" with a few dents in them, a mostly full roll of duct tape, and a "My Little Pony" children's backpack.
"We did what we could," the biger man rumbled, his face a mask of stoicism. He turned and got back into the truck, a few tears running from his eyes.
Dinger spoke up again. "I'm not allowed to tell you how to get back to the vault, so I won't. I can't risk Tank's family if you guys come knocking. But I can change this here tire and OOPS BUTTERFINGERS, I DROPPED THE TIRE IRON guess it's all dirty better forget that and it sure would be a shame if someone accidentally let it slip that you head north a little there's a small town, or west a pretty big city, from what I hear." The little man smiled and reached out to give his cousin a good bye hug.
Spencer spends the rest of the ride fairly quietly, wordlessly holding up his wrists for Fitz to cut him free, and nodding when he does so. Once he removes the rad suit he stretches out and cracks his joints, but otherwise just waits for the drop. Why'd I ask that? No sense bellyaching now, wondering about what could be. We're gonna have a hard enough time with what is.
At the drop, he takes the stimpak with a small smile and sticks it in one of his pockets, and still hopes that the escorts don't notice his hidden gear. They were being mighty kind and helping them out, but he didn't want to chance anything if they saw he'd been stacking the odds himself.
As Tank and Dinger say goodbye to their cousin--and less-than-subtly offer the group some more equipment, causing him to crack a brief grin--he looks to Jenny, trying to think of anything to say. "Listen, Jen..."
Pausing again, Spencer realizes there isn't anything to say. So he just tightens his jaw and heaves a breath. "Take care, huh?"
Fitz, for his part, stands around kind of awkwardly.
He didn't know anyone here. He didn't even know what "here" was.
To prevent the onset of panic he looks around for landmarks, thinking he could perhaps get his bearings to navigate by. The first thing that catches the eye is the road sign.
Hm. Grafitti. That means people! Despite the vulgarity, perhaps they could be allies?
Mickey is near tears himself as he returns the hug. He then carefully closes the children's backpack with all of its gear. With no shame at all, he hangs the bag off one arm.
"Dinger, thanks. And tell Tank the same. And to keep an eye out on his kids."
He gives Dinger a final nod.
"Take care. Both of you. Stuff like this might get noticed. So lay low a bit. No screwing with the Overseer. I mean it."
Jen cracks a slight smile, trying her best to hold her composure, and nods. "I will. You don't die out here. If I end up in the back next year, I'm gonna want a friend I can find."
She climbs in the back of the truck and sighs, trying not to look at the others.
Dinger nods to Mickey and returns to his grim expression from earlier. "If we're ever out on a run again...well...I don't know. It's not like they let people go twice, most of the time. But...yeah...I'll make sure they're okay. I'm actually looking forward to being an uncle. And Tank knows. This was, after all, his idea."
He moves back into the truck, and it noisily starts up. They all give a solemn wave, and it turns off, disappearing into the horizon.
And now, here you all are, and all around you are trees, with a road going two directions, and the only building nearby the remains of a large highway rest stop. The building looks a few thousand square feet, and the only signs seem to indicate restrooms. It is squat, grey, and most of it seems to be holding together, but you might see more if you get closer.
.
Mickey waves to the departing truck and takes a steadying breath.
He faces the other three exiles and says, "Looks like we're in this together. The name's Miguel, but everyone just calls me Mickey. I'm going to take this here Tire Iron, hope no one minds. I have a small switchblade here, too - a bit rusty but serviceable. Anyone here want it?"
"I was thinking we should check out that rest stop first. See if there's anything we could salvage. What do you guys, think?"
; Total 2. No successes.
"Yes, that would be good. Hm. Maybe I could put together some useful tools for us there?"
"My name is Nathan Fitzpatrick, by the way. Most people call me Fitz. I work...well, worked, down in engineering."
Mickey nodded.
"Engineering. Okay, good. Well, Fitz, that should definitely come in handy. Make sure you keep an eye out for anything that you could use to help out. I got this here backpack, and I'm a big guy, so I'll carry whatever you need. I'm not much more useful than that I'm afraid, unless you really need someone to spout off vault security protocols."
The rest stop had a broken sidewalk leading up to it, overgrown from years of misuse with some strange brown weed, chunks destroyed. As you look around in any direction there are the remains of trees off the road, long since dead but standing as memorial of what once was. Trunks and branches reach to the sky like brown skeletal hands, and the shortest are at least a hundred feet tall. The road itself seems to eek off straight both in the direction the truck drove and the opposite. Given the sun is directly overhead, it is a bit difficult to determine direction for the time being.
All you can feel is the wind on your skin....a pleasant relief from the humidity and the heat...which as you sit in the unforgiving sun , and to be honest, after a few hours in those rad suits, you're all starting to feel pretty thirsty.
Spencer glances around after the truck pulls away, trying to figure out if he knows where the group is. Assuming we left around normal time, judging by the day and all... These surroundings, the sign... He nods slowly, fairly certain he has at least a rough idea of the drop point's location, and then turns to the others.
"Spencer Collin. I was kind of a floater, helped out here and there. Been on these kind of runs before, though, so that's a plus." As he speaks, he reaches down his suit's pants and fishes around his groin for a moment. When he pulls his hand out with a grin, he holds it palm up to show a small lighter and a folding multi-tool. "And I prefer boxer-briefs, in case you were wondering."
He slides the items into his pockets and gestures to the switchblade. "If nobody else wants that, I'll take it, but either way. I prefer a gun, but who knows when we'll find one of those..."
With a shrug, he steps to the side of the road and glances at the rest stop. "Yeah, that's not a bad plan. Probably picked clean, but who knows what people might have stashed or passed over? Worth a try, at least." He looks up toward the sun, shielding his eyes with his hands, trying to get a sense of time and what direction the road was heading in.
Damn. No dice.
After handing the switchblade to Spencer, he gestures to the rest stop again.
"Alright, let's go in then. I got the bigger weapon, so I guess I'll take point. "
; Total = 7
Nothing seems to jump up or out at you as you approach the building. A couple of stone benches line the approach, and there seems to be a sign with some Florida history on it, though again grafitti covers it. This one reads "KING dum! I serv no kiNG. Suck DeeZ nuts moWS fukkas - SLAVR4LIF" There seems to be a red circle with an S in the middle and a pair of horns on the circle doodled next to the grafitti, all in bright red spray paint, though it's faded and long since dry.
To the right is the women's room, where you can hear an obvious chittering sound, to the left, the men's, and behind the sign an alcove with an arrow that says "SNACKS."There is a booth behind the sign that seems to have broken class in the front, where behind is one of those pull-down guards you see similar to the pull down cages for security at malls, but completely opaque like a garage door. Above is clearly labeled "Security and Information" As you walk around you can see a large wooden door locked with a thick deadbolt. A keypad is next to the door, but it also seems to have a slot for a key card.
Mickey observes the keypad.
.
"Looks like it takes a key card," Mickey said quietly. "We should look around before we try to force it open. The chittering noise isn't reassuring, so let's go deal with that first."
"Yeah. We may find something behind there--probably not much, but these stations used to have some stuff, maybe food and water, maybe even something from security. If it was big enough..."
Spencer pauses and then draws the switchblade. "Mick, I know you have the bigger weapon, but how sneaky are you? If we can take this thing unawares, that'd be for the best, I think." He flicks the switchblade open and nods to the women's bathroom.
; Total = 9, success with raise.
"I'm not very stealthy," Mickey admitted. "If you think you can get the drop on a radroach, be my guest."
"Is that what it is?" Spencer nods, having heard only a little about the pests. "Well, I'll give it a shot."
Approaching the bathroom slowly, Spencer raises the switchblade and tries to ease the door open, moving only a little at a time. If it's facing the other way, doesn't see me... if I can just get the drop on it...
The lighting as you enter the room is Dim, with light coming in from high vents, but the usual lights broken or out from a lack of power.
Spencer catches the radroaches unaware, but not utterly off guard There seem to be four of them; two are climbing the far walls and two seem to be feasting on the remains of...something that just smells awful, but all you can see is rot...
Spencer edges inside the door, and he pauses as he sees that there are multiple radroaches. Hoping the others will follow him, he steps forward to strike the nearest roach, one of the ones eating something. As he brings the switchblade down, though, his foot squeaks on the floor. Well, there goes that plan.
Spaulding is somewhat in shock. Usually he enjoyed being picked as part of a team, but this was not one of those times. And the pain... He didn't know if he was more embarrassed or hurt. He took the stimpack gratefully, but stored it in one of his jumpsuit pockets. He would live with the pain for now, and he didn't want anyone else to question his toughness. When released he rises to his feet looking around.
Knowledge: Geography Success & Raise
WD
XD
He immediately recognized where he was. One of his favorite books growing up was a tattered Rand McNally Road Atlas, and he spent a lot of time daydreaming about what those symbols and lines meant.
At the sound from the room he immediately looked around for some rocks, or debris to throw as a weapon.
Notice Success & Raise
XD1
WD
He watches his switchblade being passed over to Spencer, and decides that discretion was probably wise here. No need to tell him the history of that blade... besides it hadn't been so lucky so far.
"Is it a Rat or a Roach? What's a Ratroach"?
The radroach happens to turn out of the way of Spencer's blade, but his quick movements and stance allow him to recover before the radroaches take action, as their antennae twitch in alarm.
"I'm not so stealthy myself. I can fight well enough unarmed for now. I've taken self defense classes, mostly boxing."
"Ah, Spencer, it's a RADroach. As in "radiation roach" or probably more accurately "irradiated roach". They're giant, mutated cockroaches. Not a huge threat, but can be dangerous to the unaware, the unlucky, or in great numbers."
"They're ugly, too," Mickey added before running in and attacking a radroach with the tire iron.
; Total 5
; Total = 18
Spaulding almost yaks when he sees the creatures, but then heaves a chunk of sidewalk at one of the beasts.
Throw
WD
But misjudges the aerodynamics, and the chunk of pavement smashes harmlessly against the wall.
"They're ugly, too," Mickey added before running in and attacking a radroach with the tire iron.
[dice=Fighting vs. radroach]1d6
[dice=Wild]1d6; Total 5
[dice=Damage]1d6+1d4+1
[dice=Ace]1d6
[dice=Ace]1d6; Total = 18
Mickey's pipe comes slamming down towards the radroach, which tries to dodge, and with it being a tiny target, it almost does...but for the fact it already dodged Spencer's blade, it is off balance as the pipe connects into it with a grisly, sickening crunch. Gore spatters all over the place, as radroach meat and ichor cover Mickey's arm from the gruesome hit. For half a second the L-shaped metal seems stuck into the concrete before he pulls it out with a tug.
Spencer grimaces as his first knife attack misses, and he quickly readjusts, shifting to the side. Just as he makes to strike again, though, Mickey comes into the room and slams his pipe down. The spatter of gore shocks Spencer for a moment, and he gives the security guard a wide-eyed look. "Alright, then."
With that, he crouches down, not moving forward yet, waiting to strike one of the radroaches when it comes at him or Mick--assuming it does.
The two Radroaches skitter down the wall and pass over the debris effortlessly, moving remarkably fast . Having no real tactical acumen, they merely smell food, and rush in to attack the nearest victims.
With Spencer and Mickey side by side the roaches attack them headlong, one each.
Unfortunately for the large bugs, they just can't seem to get within their defenses, and the two dodge easily aside from their clumsy attacks. In fact, as he dodges, Spencer stabs the carapace of one Shaking it, preventing it's attack altogether!
ROUND 2:
Fitz - King Spades
Spencer - Queen Diamonds
Roaches - Jack Diamonds
Mickey - 8 Clubs
Spaulding - 5 Diamonds
Fitz moves in, though once there he hesitates.
Come on Fitz, you've dealt with Radroaches before. Nothing to worry about.
Well that was in a place with proper medical equipment in case I got injured.
...Why did I have to think of that?
Fitz sighs and attacks regardless, sending a kick flying toward's the roach as hard as he can manage.
Assuming the first Radroach he hit is still alive, Fitz hops up and tries to stomp down on the thing from above.