Mickey watches Petey's antics with a smile on his face.
"Thanks for the patch up, Doc. Anyone in town who could help us patch up the van?"
"Well, we're not really gearheads around this town - engines are more a Dome thing. But since you got the factory up and running, I'm sure they could weld up the holes in the body with some plates of scrap metal. Should take about twenty caps of scrap, I'd say. I'm sure on of the boys in the factory will be glad to have help since you gave them work back. The tires...that's not really something we have around here. Rubber isn't exactly common anymore. Dome will have what you need, or Kingdom, but Dome don't cost caps to visit, though I couldn't tell what it costs. We only ever had the one van in this town. The caravans out of here all use brahmin to haul wagons."
"Yeah. Sorry we got it shot up. But the Sup--"
Mickey notices Fitz's determined shake of the head. The big man gets the hint and clears his throat forcefully.
"Excuse me. The bad guys were really out for blood. Speaking of which, you folks might want to consider beefing up whatever militia you got going. Those - bad guys meant business. And no telling where they'll bring their mayhem."
"Uh, yeah, I'll tell the Sheriff. No problem."
"Well, thank you for all your aid, Sheriff, Doctor."
"And I'm glad to see you're settling in well, Petey." he says, and smiles.
"However, I believe we should be on our way...?" he looks around to his companions for confirmation.
"Lots of ground to cover, and many preparations and repairs to make."
You bid everyone fairwell, and even on your van's crippled pace, it is only a few hours before you pull up to Dome. As before, all of the garages seem to be dedicated to sponsored gladiator teams, save for one, "Mags Otto Bode".
When your vehicle pulls in, a short, middle aged, gray haired woman with a mohawk and one eye that looks like it's cybernetic wearing overalls, a tool belt stuffed with equipment, and not much else...including a lack of shirt or shoes... shuffles out to meet you and walks around the van, running her hands over the fresh repairs to the body and taking a look at the tires.
"Well, dang, what in da hail happened to yer van? You buy dis off'r a retired glad'yater? Names Mags, by da way, an I'm ma better mechanic den a speller, cause I been told bout da sign." She whistles. "Interesting patch jobs ya did wit der leather n the tires."
"Super Mutants, I'm afraid. And thank you for the compliment. Marcus and I did the best we could with the resources available. We simply lacked rubber. A rare commofity, most places."
Mags stops and tilts her head at Fitz when he mentions super mutants.
"Hmm, mut'nts, eh? Yep. You look dressed like a fighter. Look, yer right, rubber ain't common no more. I can prolly fit y'all with be tires for, oh, well...about eight hun'ner caps, but my crew, we been lookin fer a team to sponsor for the races, make a name of 'selves. Got a ben'fact'r to throw the caps, silent partner, but we needs a team to drive n' fight. We can fix yer van up, maybe supe it a lil' and attach some weapon'ry if yer intr'st."
She hocks out a disgusting wad of tobacco juice and cracks her back. She then lifts the hood and looks at the engine a bit and you can see her cybernetic eye adjusting focus, and the lens adjusts to a bright red.
"Yer engine is in solid shape. The fusion core is leaking, though. Ya got...I'd say a week left. Looks like it took a graze from a bullet. Hard to see the results w'out seein' the heat she's puttin' out. I can get up un'ner there n' take a look at the rest if you wanna deal. Otherwise, a full di'nostic'll run yake two hunner. That's labor to figger out whatcha got wrong fully. Parts and labor for repairs run after."
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Marcus' thrill instinct activates at the sound of bein' sponsored to run&fight. "We need to talk things out, give us a sec Ma"
He grabs Fitz and the rest by the shoulders so they can have a team chat "Okey guys, I don't know what yall think but racing at Dome sounds profitable AND fun. But if yall prefer we can make it to Kingdom, Tampa or whatever we choose and race later, watcha say?"
"I must admit, the prospect intrigues me somewhat on further reflection. I feel the need to blow off some steam, and as barbaric as this sport is these people are just going to kill themselves doing it ANYWAY. And we do need the money..."
Spencer frowns as his allies contemplate joining this madness. "It's a blood sport. People fight and die for their entertainment, many of them against their will from my understanding. It is barbaric, Fitz, as are those who participate."
He shakes his head and raises his hands, sighing. "I don't think we need the money. We found good rifles and lots of coins on those mutants, we can trade those for the caps we need and more. But if you want to do this, be my guest. I'll be waiting out here."
Mickey frowned. He wanted to loudly tell the woman to go to hell. But then he looked at Fitz's arm. Fixing that would be very costly. And right now even making it to Kingdom was a dicey proposition.
"Can you guarantee we wouldn't fight slaves?"
"Fraid Not. I only does the fixin' n' such. The money man don't even make matches. That's done by The Commitee. If it helps, racin' is a higher investment than just arena fights...another money maker these parts...n' sponsors don't take kindly to losing their investment, so slaves are less likely than trained war'yers n' drivers. Most slaves can't drive. It is ver' much to tha death, though, so think car'fly."
The look on Mickey's face makes it clear to everyone that her answer didn't make him happy.
"Just fix our van. We don't need the money that badly."
Fitz' expression sours.
"I had assumed everyone here was a volunteer."
"Well, the fusion core will take a couple days, the tires not too long, and diagnostic tests a few hours...I'd say o days you'll be visiting town, and provided nothing sneaks up on me, 'round 1500 hunnert caps. I can properly install some weapons at a discount or other parts, since we're op'nin her up anyway."
"If yer lookin' to make some caps in the meantime, arena battles have an animal option. Don't pay out as much, but if yer worried about killin' slaves, radscorpions n' Yao Guai ain't got feelings."
"Yao Guai?"
"Uh...like bears, but...faster...angrier."
She spits another wad of tobacco.
"My ex husband, basically."
"Ain't much like bears, nossir. Hairless and angry, if bears went super mutant. Nothing like ol' Winnie the Pooh, nossir." Rufus pipes up, looking at the mechanic with an odd expression.
"Like I said, my ex husband. Hairless, angry, and far too damn quick to want to get close to."
"Killing animals for sport?" The idea obviously still leaves a sour taste in Spencer's mouth, but he thinks it over longer. "I suppose if it's the difference between fixing Fitz's arm or not. But I still think we should leave that worry until we get to Kingdom and find out how much it would cost."
"You'll get your caps, don't worry. But just the same, I'd rather do something a little less ethically troubling than shooting things in cages. Is there any bounty hunter work needs doing round these parts?"
"Well...these parts...mostly catching runaways outside the city limits. Since you're gonna be a couple days, you can always catch critters for the arena, or dinner as it suits you. Hmm...come to think of it...actually, there is a one thing that might help folks, but..." she shakes her head and puckers her face. "Well...hear tell there's a deathclaw spotted on the road between here and Kingdom. Screwing up trade something fierce. About half a day's walk on the road. Been having to send caravans way out of their way to avoid it. Don't know if you boys can rightly handle a deathclaw, though. Strange to see one this far east. They usually keep to the west, just south of Tampa. Must be a rogue expelled from the pack or a competitor for alpha that didn't wanna be eaten and went to start his own pack. Probably a nasty one..."
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Marcus crosses his arms over his chest "As much as I love a good fight and the rushing feeling when you face danger, I ain't hunting a Claw unless we pack hella firepower." he extends his arms as far as he can "And I'm talking about this much heavy ordinance, bare minimum. Anyway, how much for a fresh Deathclaw head? 'cuz if a Yao is like your ex a Claw is like three mothers in law."
"Last I hear, the Committee was offering about six thousand to bring this one's head in. It has a black stripe along it's face where a bounty hunter torched it with an incinerator. Sadly, he didn't make it back. The claw was angry. I DID hear tell the Committee will offer twenty thousand if you can bring him in alive somehow. Arena entertainment and all..."
"I gather from the discussion that Deathclaws have earned their name, then?"
"What makes them so dangerous?"
"Interesting. I'm trying to picture the animal it mutated from and simply cannot. Ants are ants, Radscorpions are scorpions, and Yao Guai are bears, but what are Deathclaws?"
"I don't suppose anyone has ever been able to study them without dying?"
"They earned their name by being death with claws, Lefty. They're giant dinosaurs who rip you apart and spit in yer corpse. I ain't tacklin' them unless you give me a tank and the Goddamn US Army, son!"
"There has been some issue with them peeling open delivery trucks like they were sardine cans and devouring the contents inside, yes...usually said contents being humans looking for a safe ride across the waste. Thus the change in direction rather than a 'we're packed in metal, they can't hurt us' approach like folks use with, say, geckos or the like. I know when I order parts from Kingdom these days, I send the fasted folks I have on bikes with backpacks. Not really good for large orders, but for circuits or whatnot, it's worth it. Otherwise I wait for the standard caravans, which ain't as regular as they used to be."
Mickey gave it some thought.
"We've got grenades, frag mines, and a metric ton of ammunition. If this sucker is really alone, then we can take it out, so long as we get the drop on it. This might be doable."
"From what we've just been told a flamethrower aimed directly at its face did little more than anger it, Mickey."
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Papa weights Mickey's comment when Fitz remembers the flamer thing "Well Fitz, a flamer doesn't have the same stopping power as, you say, a high caliber machine gun." he fondles his chin while planning "As I said, we'd need some heavy ordinance. Really heavy. Maybe a minigun, explosives -or a launcher if we can- and fo' sure we can't be clustered... if the thing closes on us and we aren't spread, we are over. We can do it, but we need to get the drop and get it with something that packs a million punches." he walks in circlez, trying to remember the plethora of weapons that exist and considering them all, half whispering half talking to the rest "Plasma? Maybe, but we'd need plenty. Rockets? If it dodges them we are screwed... And whatever we use it should be able to penetrate steel, the bastards are tough to boot..."
"Ya'll are idjits. You don't hunt a deathclaw. They hunt you. You get slaughtered. Don't make no difference how many guns you have, IT WILL EAT YOU. A buncha damn mutants nearly gave you your ass, boy. A deathclaw? It's gonna devour ya."
"Just the one deathclaw versus all of us. Last time we were ambushed and out-numbered. We still came out alive. And, frankly, I ain't interested in fighting this thing fair. We set up a trap. A proper kill zone from cover. And we blow the living hell out of it."
Rufus shakes his head. "Yer thinking of this thing like a dumb beast. It ain't. They're smart. Smart as a person. Maybe smarter."
"People can be hunted, too. Trust me. Besides we got an edge."
He gives Rufus a wicked smile that seems ever more evil with the fresh scars on his face.
"You. You say it's smart. Good to know. What else ya got?"
"Moving on from whether we CAN kill it, is the reward really even worth it? It's only 6000 caps for killing it. And bringing proof, I might add, so the explosives could destroy the head, leaving all of this effort for naught."
"Each of the grenades or mines or bullets we use is a percentage of the profit we cut into. Grenades are reasonably expensive, all things considered. How many do you think we'd need? And is the cost worthy of the reward, even factoring out the risk?"
"It's killing people. The answer is yes."
"It's killing people. The answer is yes."
"Not to put too fine a point on it, but so are a lot of things. I don't think it is our responsibility to take on every problem we come across. We have a lot on our plate right now as it is, and let's face it...our last two outings have been less than successful."
"We've already lost Spaulding, my arm, and your good looks. What else are we willing to lose? And shouldn't we make sure it's something worth fighting for? A new home, a village full of people who need their factory back, a furthering of the Brotherhood's cause of bettering the Wastes? Certainly."
"A safe trade route for a group of slavers and killers-no offense Miss-? I don't think it's worthwhile."
"Mags. More comes through here than slaves...car parts, food, water, all sorts. The ocean ain't clean water. Crops don't grow great here...but the dome I what we have! I ain't happy they does that in these parts. I was a sight glad when catchin' r'dim folks inside town got i'lleg'l. We ain't all bad these parts. It's a mixed bag. But the races and fights bring caps, caps buy weapons, weapons arm guards, and guards let us sleep with both eyes shut a full night instead if worryin' what'll tear us apart. I ain't sayin' you gots to risk a deathclaw that might tear you apart to make our trips easier, but don't go callin' us a town of slavers an' killers when that's only half a story! YOU asked about work, and I told ya...and I'm starting to think labor might take a little longer and cost a lil' more n' I originally estimated!"
She hocks another glob of tobacco juice and throws a fresh wad of chew in.
"I agree with Mickey." Spencer turns back to the group, having thought some things through in his own head. "It is worth a reward, and as long as we play it smart, that shouldn't be a problem. We go in with what we need, and we should still turn a profit. I'm not sure how much we can trade our scavenge for, but it's probably a hell of a lot of caps. Those rifles are nice. And if this thing is smart, and attacking and killing people? Making it harder for everyone to get what they need? It needs to be taken out."
He shrugs. "Besides, it's on the road to Kingdom, right? If we don't deal with it now that means going far out of our way to get patched up. And that means folks can't get medicine they might need. We should try, at least."
"If we're set on doing this, we're doing it right. I can probably brew up something...special."