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Therapy Journal, Entry 4


I tried shooting today. It’s damn hard without any depth perception. I don’t think I could defend myself in a pinch if I had to right now. I’m glad to be here, inside the walls of Picus Ridge. These Techs seem like decent enough people, if a little single-minded. They know their trade, and that works for me.


Some things changed when we started moving farther north.


Nicky sent a crew of thugs from Boneclaw to protect our interests as we grew into the Northfields. It was nice to have a little extra muscle around. The new guards were scary as hell, and most of the punks that would have given us trouble just moved right along.

Therapy Journal, Entry 3

((The third entry in Duncan Miller's therapy Journal, an attempt to explain the past of the guy I can't stop pretending that I am))



I’ve asked Doc about prosthetics, like some of the mechanical eyes I have seen in the database. He dismisses the idea every time. From, what he can tell, I don’t even have an optical nerve for such a device to interface with. He’d also have to create a new orbital cavity for the prosthetic every time I came out of the cloner. That sounds like a lot of drilling holes in my skull. I don’t like that. There has to be a way to fix this.


The company thrived in those early days. Having a steady supply of stolen goods being shipped in from Midway gave us a huge edge on the competition, but I don’t think we really needed it. The market was ripe for a niche endeavor like mine to take hold.

Therapy Journal, Entry 2

((The second entry of Duncan Miller's therapy journal))


I still find my hand probing my face when my mind wanders. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but Doc says it won’t go away the next time I clone, or the next, or the next. Something to do with corrupted data from the collar I was wearing. I don’t know if I will ever get used to feeling solid bone where my eye used to be, I feel like a freak.


Where was I?


With the Kellers out of the way, life was good in Midway. I was allowed to pursue my own interests more freely; a discovery in a nearby CoG bunker had inspired me. Those lunatics had actually managed to collect a set of operator manuals for a dozen different cars. Some were half eaten, but I was able to learn a lot from what was not.

The Unpredictability of the Storm - 12/08 (Letters to Alex - Circus)

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Storm sits by the fire, drinking an ice cold beer as he pulls out some discolored paper and a rusty pen.


Alex,


I hope you and Synz are safely finding your way around safely in the East.  I am having my doubts that you guys have even left the bedroom yet, since you had been taken from us for a long time.


I am starting to regret the decision to leave you two to come back to New Flagstaff, as this place is nothing like it used to be when I left to take care of you.  This place and this crew are raging with PMS and it is going to get everyone killed one day. I am hoping I am long gone before that happens, but yesterday was a prime example of how bad it has gotten, and I fear the worst is yet to come.

Thunder-Underground's picture

Thunder Underground: Oilville or Hellville?

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TUSig.jpg


Top Story: Oilville or Hellville?

Tee VanCleef's picture

The Resurrection of Angeleyes

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The interceptor door groaned in protest as it swung open.  If the car had a conscience, its creaks and pops were signaling its owner to stay inside the vehicle, turn around and get the hell out of Boneclaw.  The occupant glared at the hinges before slamming the door shut, tossing her long braids over one shoulder briefly to glimpse the hellish sunset, its glowing descent enflamed like a fresh wound.

I don't forget you.

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** bonjour Folks, this is direclty related to recent In-Game events , critiques allways welcome.**

 

I don't forget you.




Green Vyper enters one the Cartel's hideout, shouting out and smashing any object that comes in range.
A fiew poeples from the french family were here, playing poker.

Therapy Journal

((This is a journal kept by Duncan Miller during the recovery process as a form of therapy. The loss of his eye hit him very hard and was a pivotal moment in Duncan’s life as a clone. It threw his life into sharp contrast and forced him to take a critical look at himself. ))


So, what the hell am I supposed to write here? Doc says I should keep a record, don't really understand why. This seems like a waste of good paper, but I guess I should humor him for fixing me up; the least I could do, really. I suppose the beginning is the most natural place to start, even though it’s least relevant.


I still remember waking up in the cloner for that first and umpteenth time. Midway was a town divided back then. And I, shiny and green, was an easy mark. It didn’t take long for me to find myself deeply in the debt of the Burns’ family, damn that Nicky. I’ll ventilate that bastard’s skull if I get half a chance.

Eva Olan's picture

Cooking with Class (4) - Eva's Journey

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Eva floated, face toward the sky, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. She smiled to herself as she looked up at the night sky. So much had changed in the last few days.


He loved her. Of that she was certain, even though he had never actually said it. He would only state that he adored her. But it was enough.


The roller coaster they traveled to simply get there had been great.

williampaulson's picture

Hope Springs - Law and Order Crime Unit

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 Deputy Paulson

Found out about murder at the bear bar in barret. Biker chick killed . Some guy in i met in flagstaff told me.He said he heard about it in,beau's bar. Suspicious looking guy . Gave name as John Pettimore. Took pic when him not looking. Think him make up stories. Some truth.Some lie
Have you seen this man

williampetti.jpg

henerkin's picture

Then Nuke Reject - Update 4 - ((For Nat when she clones))

((This is every night since Natasha is stuck in the cloner))

Written to the following song and Whiskey drunk:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED5s1-Fe9FA

Exneal's picture

The Empty Serynge III

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Oilville rang with the sound of people. Every once in a while, the gates would open and more people would ride or drive in to do whatever business they had in the small town. The sound of their footsteps, voice and work filled the air and gave the town a busy sort of enviroment. However, Exneal payed no attention to it. He merely sat on the steps of one of the shops, watching everyone who passed by for a moment. There were no people with masks in the town as of yet and Exneal was beggining to wonder if they only operated inside Traveler towns.

Eva Olan's picture

Cooking with Class (3) - Eva's Journey

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Eva woke to Exneal still holding her, his head lying on her chest in sleep. He looked so young to her as he lay there with a content smile on his face.


 


She leaned down and gently kissed his forehead, smiling a little as she did so. Moving slowly so as not to wake him, she turns him over on his back and quietly gets dressed. She begins to build a fire to cook breakfast with, her mind wandering as she goes through the motions of doing something she's done a million times before.


 


Staring off into space, she saw his face again. Her beloved Jack. The Jack who'd shown her what true emotions, true feelings were as they worked on the antibiotics together at the University. The face contorted in pain and agony before her very eyes, looking much as it did the moment he'd saved her from the Vista fire. Feeling something on her cheek, she comes out of her reverie and wiped a tear away.


 

Miss Nibbles's picture

Life on Hold -4-

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[Fair warning, best to be read when high/stoned/baked/whateveryoukidscallit or unless you have a crazy mind like mine ^^]


 

Alicia's picture

Ponderances of Alicia (entry 20)

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((Greetings and salutations! My toon is Alicia Trabeal and this is her handwritten IC journal.  That said, you are reading it OOC; unless it is found IC and I have expressly directed you here.  If you have any questions or comments about it, please send me a private missive, I welcome them.)) 

Lost Soul's picture

Gasoline Gears and Gun Oil -32-

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((yea a bit more violent than previous fare))


Miss Nibbles's picture

Life on Hold -3-

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 [Here is the voice of the Girl Image TETRAX took.]


Madison Hayes's picture

From the desk of Mayor Savannah Knight, Hope Springs

From the desk of Mayor Savannah Knight

 

Well the relocation from Sector 1 into Sector 2 has begun. Refugees from our former location in the Needle Eye area have started to arrive in the area of Barret Manor.    Sheriff Kurt Jessip and I have met with the Barret Family patriarch, Ezra Barret, and have made arrangements for Hope Springs to lease out the lower half of the Barret Manor for the Mayor's office, Sheriff's office, and for larger officical meetings. 

Alicia's picture

Ponderances of Alicia (entry 19)

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henerkin's picture

The Nuke Reject - Update 3

((This is what Henerkin does to regain his memory at night))

"A couple of weeks have past,  with the help the doc and the others, I was slowly gaining memory back. I now remembered Reaper, Noctifer, Moiraine, Death Blight, my Traveler ways, the Family I was leading and the more I tried, the more it came back.

Who are you clone? (2)

So there he was. Nine months had gone by searching for her. He had done his "A Better Tomorrow" routine for as long to get new Enforcers signed up.

It had worked very good at first, but then gone down a very steep road. Many made the ranks, went through proper training by Baz and other recruitment officers, but then just disappeared or were sent to other units when they finally were ready to fight. Some others dropped out because they just couldn't do it.

His superiors didn't care. In fact they took more and more of his people away to other assignments.

Eva Olan's picture

Cooking with Class (2) - Eva's Journey

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Eva yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her makeshift camp was on the edge of town. She prefered being out in the open, although it made her more vulnerable. But....something would happen whether she had her back to a wall or not. Unexpected things always did.


Speaking of unexpected things...


She still wasn't sure what to make of Exneal. Junkie....she knew that. She'd seen them before. She'd see them again. It was the nature of her job as a Cook and Dealer meant she dealt with junkies on a fairly regular basis. She often pitied them, but he hadn't reached that stage yet. And that made her smile....and was part of the reason he confused her.


He was a Traveler and had gotten himself, and her now, into some rather deep shit, but she coulda done that herself and didn't hold it against him. She thought it was kinda cute how he got all worried that she'd get hurt. And how he protected the dead body of his friend from being looted.

Hunted hunters

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* as usual : plz forgive the quality of my english, critiques and help are welcome *


In the corner of a bunker-bar, two men spent most of the night waiting.

"I think she's not gonna show up tonight.
-What did you expect Josh ? You seen , like I did, how much she's worth.
-Guess ya're right..."
Thirty "reds" That's a huge reward for a single woman.

Muse's picture

The River of Black Oil - 3

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((Written to 'Fortunate Son' by CCR.))

"All right, let's roll out!"

Exneal's picture

The Empty Serynge II

In a far not far away from Depot 66, there is a wall. On that wall, several skulls are placed without any particular order or formation. They decorate a door that leads inside to the small house that holds the inhabitants of the farm. Since a year ago, one of these inhabitants was Exneal. He stared at the skulls with a frown, not really seeing them, but not being able to see anything else either. His mind raced to the masks those Travelers were wearing. They were neat and clean procelain masks. The kind one would find in a novel-worthy ball or dance party.

The Unpredictability of the Storm - 8/12

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Storm rode his bike toward Soei Fuh’s camp; he was sent to eliminate her from this world on behalf of the Old Man. He got within a mile of her camp when he was ambushed on the road by a half dozen filthy scavengers.



They were in no mood to talk it out; they wanted everything he had from his bike to the shirt off his back. They didn’t waste anytime showing that they meant business by firing their guns at him. He dodged and evaded diving over his bike for cover, but he could feel his leg burn as two bullets pierced his skin.



Storm pulled himself to a sitting position behind his bike a few more bullets came crashing against the metal of the bike. They shouted and cackled like a bunch of hyenas looking for prey, taunting and calling him out.

The Unpredictability of the Storm - 6/11(3)

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Storm closed his eyes as the bullet from the large tent whistled past his head, it was so close he could hear is fly by. He rapidly fired back into the tent aiming low. The sound of groans and pain erupted from inside and he heard the man call out.


Alright…Alright, The man yelped as his gun came flying out of the tent, followed by him slithering like a snake.


Storm grabbed a piece of rope binding the man’s midsection to a worn chair from inside the large tent. Without hesitation he grabbed a stick from the fire and cauterized in the open bullet wounds on the man legs.


The man screamed in agony, they echoed against the wall but fell on deaf ears. They were alone, and no one within miles. Storm grabbed the man by his hair and leaned down in his face and spoke quietly to the man, his eyes fixated on his prey, showing not a shred of emotion, no humanity, and no soul.

The Unpredictability of the Storm - 6/11(2)

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Storm rode to the location he was given, the wind at his back. This wasn’t a job for coin, it was personal, it would be painful, and it was for blood. He rode for what seemed to be an eternity as he pulled up a safe distance away to the encampment near large rocks, making the only escape, death.


He kept quiet, silent, as he made his way closer to see what he was up against. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Army or not he was going in, but it was better to be some what prepared then to fail once again.


He looked over seeing two small tents, a large tent, and two men walking along the perimeter of the camp with their rifles.


Looks to be 5 to 1 odds, I’ll take that, he spoke quietly to himself.

The Unpredictability of the Storm - 6/11

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Storm rides quickly making his way across the desert, pulling up dirt and sand out in the middle of no-where. He had left Beau’s some time before midnight, making sure he reached his destination on time.


He had just left V with a good bye kiss and a task incase he did not return. He asked her to meet him at 3:00 am, at a specific location, by a campfire. More importantly he gave her a vial of his sister’s blood that he protects with his life wearing it around his neck and close to his heart. He vowed to use her blood to bring her back, but he just hasn’t found the means to do so. He wouldn’t have trusted anyone with that Vial, unless the path he was about to walk was dangerous and had the potential for him not returning. That task would have been passed to Vorela if he in fact did not show up to their meeting.

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by Dr. Radut