Blood Ties - All Tied Up

RavenJeanGraves

RavenJeanGraves

Where'd That 6th Toe Come From?
Attention! This thread is for players already accepted into Blood Ties that are being kept in the Fiend base. Please do not post in here unless you are one of those people. If you wish to join, ask in the New Vegas RPG thread. This is solely RP only. A clean thread is a happy thread.

Captives, you are all bound, tightly. Arms and legs and weaponless. There’d be little to no movement except for bending to eat and sleep and such. So this will mostly be dialogue and backstory. These Fiends are very careful to not let anyone get away, so please no great escapes. You can be amazing later.
You can write how you were caught however you like, but it must be around the northern part of the map and you weren’t told anything about where you are, you just know the room you are in looks like a small office, though only because of the desk and filing cabinet. Apart from that, the room is empty, apart from you.


The room was dank with the stench of human waste. Fiends weren't known for giving people the luxury of a lavatory. Or water. Or much food. The only light the room got was a dull glow through the single not boarded, filthy window. It was also the only way to keep track of they days passed. Every three days one of the Fiends would come to toss a bucket filled with whatever they didn’t finish to the prisoners. They would usually just kill everybody, but this lot had their uses. Food for if they ran out of fresh meat being one. They would also collect the dead when somebody happened to kick it, but nobody had died for a couple of weeks. They also took a few living out. The young Brotherhood of Steel Knight, Evan, being the most recent. Sometime last week. But since then it has been quiet, the cruel innkeepers only coming to hurl spoiled food and insults to the motley crew of captives.
 
A foot taping the floor, it's sound being the only thing breaking the silence. The sound got louder, and soon it got rythm, a very annoying rythm. an exasperated"Shhhhhh" made the sound stop. then the sound of fingers tappign the wall started with the same annoying rythm.
Mathias was unable to just stay quiet, at the annoyance of the other capturees.
-Then.... some one wants to at least talk? it's getting bored with you, all serious.-Blurted Mathias, the author of the annoying corporal melody.
 
James woke up with a start. He felt could feel that his face was still slightly swollen, but the black and blue marks from from his beating two days previous had faded.
"That's the last time I chose to wait to stock up on more ammo..." he mumbled to himself.

It had been nearly nine days since he had been captured.
It had been his own damn fault and his carelessness that had let these junkies get the better of him.
Thinking back to when he left New Vegas at the request of Julie Farkas (head of the Mojave branch of the Followers of the Apocalypse) to take supplies to a ski lodge hidden in the mountains to an old friend of hers named Doctor Henry. So what if the New Vegas merchants were gouging me on ammo prices, if I had bought it I wouldn't have run out of ammo fighting those damn cazadores, using the last of my antipoison in the process. If I'd only bought that ammo I might have stood a chance against that ambush of Fiends. Well, at least Lucy (pack brahmin) got away. If the stupid idiot who grabbed her reigns hadn't been so busy raiding the bags she may have not had the chance to kick him and run. Thank God for fiend stupidity...
The raiders didn't need to chase after a run away caravan brahmin, not when they had something better, a traveler laden with guns and CHEMS.

As James struggled to loosen the ropes tying his wrists to no avail he took stock of his surroundings, he was tied up with several other people in what appeared to have once been an office of some sort judging by the damaged desks and filing cabinets he could see. A couple of shipping label caught his eye maybe this place used to be some kind of shipping center back in the old days, now it was a filth den for a bunch of junkie scum. He notice one of the guards lying against the wall, probably on some kind of trip and he had James' 10mm at his waist. This was the man who beat him senseless the first time he'd tried to get his gun back, next time would be different.

James wispered to the other prisoners:
"Hey are any of you awake? Does any of you know where we are or why these fiends are taking people alive?"
 
"Hey you, yeah you, the one tapping. Name's Taylor, James Taylor. What's yours?"
after a second James thought to ask, "When did they get you?"
 
-Name? Mathias I guess, I got a flat tire on my bike tring to kill one of those giant bugs, bunch fo dudes surrounded me, I know better than to try and kill 20 people with a hunting rifle. What's your story?-
 
"I'm the one known as the One Man Caravan, you need something transported with no fear of loosing it, I'm your man...
Or at least I am usually, currently I'm employed by the Followers of the Apocalypse. I brought them supplies from back West in exchange for 800 caps in advance and some medical supplies after. The sent me to take some things to somebody up in the mountains, now my I'm imprisoned by a bunch of junkies using my hard earned supplies, and I've lost track of my brahmin to boot. She can look after herself I've got caravan friends that'll find her and take her in.
More importantly do you see a way out of here, because I sure don't."

From a guard in the other room:
"Quite down in there! Before I have to come in there and make you shut up!!"

(In hushed tones)
"So what's your story?"
 
"What are you doing in the Mojave?"
"Wait a minute you can repair a bike? Every time I find one the engine is to decayed or to far gone to recharge, how in hell did you get one running again."
 
-One man caravan? never heard of him- said Mathias scratchign his ear. -Well I am just following the road, and I repair toasters and stuff on the way-
The second question shook Mathias visibly, nervously answering -Uhmmm I just like, emm collecting stuff, I just happeend to find the appropiate pieces-, Mathias moved a little, to getting more comfortable -How did they catch you? they atacked your One Man Caravan? Those guys have Plasma weapons, never seen gangs that well armed before.
 
"I'm a collector myself. I collect old world tech, robot parts, holo-discs, even schematics. Ever heard of General Atomics, they made nearly every robot on the market during pre-war times, mister handy, mister gutsy, robobrains, even one called mister orderly which is like some kind of walkin auto doc. I once found one of their factories, biggest treasure trove I ever found, even beat the time I scavenged one of the Robco facilities."
"I think I hear barking. Do you hear barking? Wonderful dogs, this place just gets better all the time. This must be one of those groups of fiends that capture people are try to sell off for ransom or slavery."
"oh yeah my nick name, not to many people know that name outside of the western most parts of the NCR."
 
-Well if your one man caravan got attacked your contractor must be pissed off, hahaha-.
Mathias coomodates hsi legs again, trying to get the most comfortable position posible
-Ransom? I am not even from around here, got a plan? this guys are not gonna get money from having me here, and I don't want them getting.... something else out of me.
 
"Yeah, this is going to be a bit of damper on business, nobody likes a late delivery, but the cargo is hopefully still with my brahmin so as soon as I get out of here I'll need to call in a few favors to find her and make sure the cargo gets to where it was going. Can you loosen you ropes? I'm having no luck, they tightened them after my last stunt. Two days ago I got one hand free but had three guys on me before I could get my gun back from that guy snoozing against the wall over there. Got beaten pretty bad for my troubles. I don't even know what they've done with my sniper rifle, and they're having fun wasting all my chems on drug induced stupors."
 
-I am only good with machines, I can't even carry too much with me, lets see- Mathias starts moving his arma erraticaly, he tries this for about 5 minutes, finaly falling on his face -Yup, can't do crap, I hope they don't scratch the Scrap metal of my Bike, I gotta look for rubber and some good metal later- With effort Mathias manages to get face up again -And the other guys seem to be pretty comfortable there, they can even sleep, that or we are just surrounded by a bunch of corpses-.
 
"That thought had occurred to me. I know there's at least one other guy here, I've heard the guards talking about him, but it doesn't look like he's in this room. Let's hope he's just some where else, worse case scenario we're down one cell mate and we're next."

"Maybe the others may never wake up, the fiends may have been trying new chems they've mixed up on us, in case they're fatal. Why put your self at risk when you can use some poor sap you've pulled out of the wasteland, right?"
 
"Where the fuck am I?"

Everything was blurry and off kilter as Eric opened his eyes. His body ached and felt feverish. Bouts of nausea would routinely cause him to dry heave. As he looked down, he could make out numerous cuts and bruises over his chest and legs. On his side, were numerous stiches, most likely the result of shrapnel removal. His arms and legs were bound, the rope giving enough slack only for eating and sleeping somewhat comfortably. He could make out a desk and a filing cabinet, some kind of office back in the pre-war days. There were people talking, and the sound of dogs barking. It sounded close, yet so far away. Finally, exhaustion again took hold and everything faded to nothingness.

The NCR reconaissance unit he was assigned to was ambushed by unknown forces. Squad leader Evans was the first one down, turned into hamburger by a direct mortar hit. He could remember the radio man, Hodges, calling in co-ordinates for fire support before a plasma bolt reduced him to jelly. Wilson was covering 11-3 o'clock with his LMG, raining hell on anyone daring to move up. Eric took over the remaining positions with his sniper rifle. Amidst the gunfire, none of the NCR fighters heard the mortar round coming in until it was too late.
 
"It seems he ran out of gas again, check if he has somethign useful on him, like a sharp bone to cut the ropes or something"
 
Eric awoke finding two men lifting him off the floor. Two more stood 5 feet away with their assault rifles trained on him. He was asked questions but the pain and fever stifled all sound. One of the rifleman pulled out a radio and muttered something incoherent. After what seemed like a minute, a fifth person entered the room. This one checked his temperature, his eyes, and examined his injuries. When he was satisfied, the "doctor", produced a stimpack out of his bag and jammed it home into Erics right shoulder.

All of a sudden, the pain began to subside and the fever felt not so bad. Strength returned to his arms and legs. The drug worked so well that he was able to think, hear and talk clearly. The doctor whispered something to one of the guards and left as abruptly as he arrived. Again, the rifleman with the radio transmitted something in code and recieved a coded return.

"Whats your name?", replied the one with the radio.

"My name is Eric Chang"

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

"An unknown contingent ambushed us while on a routine patrol. By the time we returned fire, two members of our unit were dead."

"What was your mission?"

"As I said before, we were on a routine patrol."

"You are lying."

The punch came hard and fast, crashing into the left side of Erics jaw.

"I will ask you again. What was your mission?"

"Fuck you. As I said, me and the others were on a routine patrol."

"We can do this all day long."

This time two punches. One to the face and one to the stomach. Eric could taste blood coming off his lips.

Punches, kicks, and beatings with a baton. When that didn't work, the two men held Eric down as a towl was put over his face. Water was poured, and Eric choked. This routine was repeated at random for another hour until the guards' radio crackled to life with another coded transmission.

"We're done here. Take him back to his cell."
 
A burlap sack was put over Erics head as another guard tied his hands. He felt a rifle barrel in the small of his back.

"Move it prisoner. Just follow my advice and we won't have any problems. You get funny with me, your legs all of a sudden turn to molasess, or you just get difficult, I will administer to you a beating you will never forget"

The trip back to his cell didn't seem to take too long. Along the way, two other prisoners could be heard conversing in the background.

"If you inmates know whats good for you, you will shut the fuckup right now!"

About 5 seconds later, the sound of a door opening was heard. Off came the burlap sack and in came a kick which sent the hapless asian crashing into a wall. The door was shut and locked.

The minute the guards had left, two prisoners began speaking to Eric.

"Hey you, whats your name?"

"Do you remember how you got here?"

"My names Eric. I was placed into an NCR recon team for a routine patrol. About a day into the shit, we got ambushed by some world class fucks. These guys had mortars, energy weapons, LMGS, you name it. Half of us were killed before we even managed to return fire. The last thing I remember, me and the automatic rifleman were banging away and then, blackness"
 
"you love to say things in a very flowery way don't you?, I hope you at least have good theeth or a hidden pocket knife, it coudl help us a lot right now" Replied Mathias with a slighty mocking tone. Then reacomotade himself on the corner. "Or a dog whistle, anything could be useful right now".
 
"Missing teeth in the back, but then again, isn't everyone?"

"Anyways, back to the point. No. What hadn't been taken after the ambush, the guards no doubt helped themselves to"

"Any of you a merchant or craftsmen of any sort? Maybe we could jury rig some of this junk laying around into something useful?"
 
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