"Welcome to Megaton. The bomb is perfectly safe, we promise. Please hold for threat level assessment. Threat level minimal. Open the gates. Open the gates. Welcome to Megaton."

-The Town of Megaton-
Megaton. A small town, one of many dotting the wastes. It's walls were tall, built of scrap metal and pieces scavenged from who-knows-what. It's ever present nuclear warheads was sitting in it's pool of irradiated water, a preacher standing in and a rambling on about Atom or some such. The buildings weren't much better then the walls, barely standing on rusting supports. A shop here and there, a bar or two. Normally, it'd be an ordinary day, another harsh day of survival. The walls kept out the raiders and slavers, and thankfully the scorpions, and their water processing plant cleans enough water for the town and the handful of travellers that pass through. Still, it's never easy living in the waste. But today was not an ordinary, whatever it appeared to be. Today, a rather large numbers of strangers entered through the large gate, looking for work, looking for a new life, looking for Allen T. Shorey.

(It's pretty much exactly like it is in the game. Go where ever you wish, for now. If you don't know the town, follow someone else's lead, or ask me.)

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-Moriarty's Saloon-
Sat at the bar in the filthy looking and rather worndown saloon was Raz, he'd just come back Big Town where he'd stocked up on supplies and dropped off some mechanical findings. "Pour me another drink Gob." Asked the man, a ghoul with the most disgusting half melted half decaying face nodded and poured him a glass of scotch, the bottle of scotch was old and the label was sun faded and scratched, the glass of the bottle was dirty and had dirt marks on it. This what most things were like in the life of a wastelander, dirty, broken, wasted but Raz wanted to change this. Raz wanted to fix everything and clean everything up to how they used to be.

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There was a creak as another seat at the bar was filled, the somewhat haggard looking, besuited wastelander who's ass had gone into it started to order, but his voice failed at the sight of the glasses, a slight twitch at his temple the only sign of what he was feeling. Any decent bar would have kicked him out for loitering, but this was Megaton, and this was Moriarty's, and there was hardly a huge demand to free up seats, so the old man let it go.

Johnny sort of wished he had a hat to remove. Made sitting at a bar feel more real somehow, but alas, his trusty Trilby of two weeks had been eaten by a mole rat. He looked about the bar, picking out locals and newcomers, before half-turning toward the man who'd ordered the scotch.

"You wouldn't happen to be Shorey would you?" he asked softly, foot tapping slowly.

The man downed his whiskey and smirked. "No I'm not, but I also happen to be looking for him. The name's Raz, though most people in the waste like to call me 'Mr. Fix-It'." The man rubbed his hands together in a cleaning fashion and offered out a hand to the stranger next to him at the bar.

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-Moriarty's Saloon-

Suddenly the door swings open with a slam, and figure enters the saloon. The whole body is covered by a big old gray cloak, the head is wrapped in by some yellowish towel or something, and the eyes are hidden behind a pair of dusty old goggles. The newcomer shakes some dust off the cloak then throws it back behind the shoulders, revealing a pair of long shapely naked thighs continuing in graceful hips, a slender waist and a pair of D-cup orbs barely contained by small green tank top. The girl… ehh what am I saying… the WOMAN reaches up and removes the goggles, and the rags from her face brining forth a pair of sparkling baby-blue eyes. Her ruby-red lips curly into a smile… gods, she is even wearing lipstick, I mean LIPSTICK… as she looks around in the bar. “Hello boys.” She finally says in a honey-sweet voice.

Johnny quirked an eyebrow momentarily at the newcomer before turning back to Raz and accepting his hand. The handshake was appropriately firm and warm. You couldn't even tell how much he'd practiced it.

"Name's Johnny Montaigne. Pleasure. I suppose you're also here for the merc company? If so we'll be comrades. Look forward to working with you."

Progressing through megaton was a tall figure. Towering over most of the people around him armored as if he’s going on a rampage. Of course today wasn’t rampage day for axel no that would have been yesterday. Today was find the payer in this shit hole and get out as fast as you can. After stomping around, sending up medium amounts of sand, Axel just got bored looking around this pathetic excuse for a town. He ended up asking around for the bar to drown himself in liquor, maybe get into a bar fight. "Yeah that would be fun" he chuckles lightly. After finding a bar, or at least something that looks like a bar, he walks through the side door. After surveying the area a couple things come to mind "Fucking zombies, slut, and a dirty hobo. Just my luck". He plops his metal armored ass on a seat one seat away from the dirty hobo (rival) and looks up at the ghoul. "Brainssss, Braaaaaaiiinnnssss he says with his head on his shoulder arms sticking out crookedly. After that he bursts out in laughter, but his helmet makes it sound more mechanical and airy. "Nah I’m just kidding with yah. Put down vodka for me"

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For the king, For the king, For the sake of Skyrim. For the Nine, for the hope of High Hrothgar's pass, and for all of Sovngarde; Where the souls sing your song. For the king, For our King, who will guard Hrothgar! Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin, wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!
Ahrk fin norok paal graan, fod nust hon zindro zaan, Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!

Damien entered the town, peering around through his goggles. He noticed that there were several other drifters that entered the town around the same time. He nodded to the sheriff and asked around, trying to find his possible employer as soon as he could.

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Final Fantasy IX was the best Final Fantasy game ever and if you think otherwise you are WRONG!

My fanfiction account. Comments and criticisms are very welcome.

Megaton. The Town Of The Sleeping Bomb. At least, that's what Ryan called it. A place that attracted the best of people and sometimes the worst of people. And yet everyone there looked out for one another. Some just because they could, some because they thought there'd be some Caps paid out to them in the end.

His name was Ryan Sherlock, but everyone called him Search, and he still wasn't too clear on why. Maybe it was because Ryan didn't sound as interesting as Search. Maybe it came about from one of those missions he had done a few years ago, less than a year after leaving the Vault. But however he got the name, it stuck, and that's what he called himself now.

And Megaton. He'd been there before, and pretty much left everything as it was well enough alone. He had no enemies here, and yet he didn't really have any close friends, either. He knew he was on good terms with the "Sheriff," but that was like saying you were on good terms with your next-door neighbor because you never spoke to him. He really didn't contribute or detract from Megaton; it was just a place he went to trade every now and again.

And now he was here to get work. But exactly where was he supposed to wait for his mysterious benefactor, after all? His Pip-Boy had gotten Three-Dog's message to him clearly enough, but it only said "Allen T. Shorey" was forming a group, and "head to Megaton" to join up. And the easiest place to meet people was at the bar.

Well, that'd have to be his first stop anyway. He grabbed his dun-colored trenchcoat and adjusted it with a flick of his wrists, then headed up to the bar. As he slipped inside and removed his hat with his left hand, he went past the corner of the bar and sat down in one of the empty seats. "Scotch, if you would, Gob." He dug into his pocket for the caps and set them on the counter gently, waiting for his drink. He didn't look directly at anyone from the group. He acted as if he had nothing to do with them, opting simply to listen and gather information. He sat, waited patiently and sipped his scotch.

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Myles looked around Megaton with ill-concealed awe; he had never been in a town this big. He was so going to get lost. He looked at the bomb and hoped it wouldn’t go off as his Geiger Counter clicked irritatingly. He then wondered for a while and found himself at Moriarty’s Saloon. He pulled his hood down and walked in rubbing the scar on his cheek as he adjusted his goggles. “Um, hello,” he said softly to the group of people gathered there, “Are you guys looking for Mr. Shorey too?” He stood near a man who had to be around his own age with a trench coat and a bullet-proof vest. “I’m Thanos Myles, nice to meet you.” The young man was quiet almost timid, with a Ripper at his side, though he didn’t seem the type who would like physical fighting, being short and quite thin.

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-Megaton-
The Sheriff, Lucas Simms, gave Damien a simple list of places in town. The store, the saloon, the Brass Lantern, the doctor, the common house, the restrooms. As for Shorey, he had seen him enter town. Didn't know where he was now, though. He told Damien to try out Moriatry's Saloon, he had seen a lot of other drifters head over there.

-Moriarty's Saloon-
The ghoul, Gob, serves you all your drinks as you hand over caps: none too happily, but it's his job. A redhead, Nova, leans against a wall in the corner, smoking. Colin Moriarty, the owner, was off talking to some guy off in the back, away from the customer. No one could hear them, but it looked like the guy was questioning Moriarty. Strange thing though: The guy had a Vault jumpsuit. In those big numbers of the back, it said 101...

-The Brass Lantern-
"Thanks Jen." A man in metal armor and a well worn combat helmet sat at the bar outside the Brass Lantern, not so far from the bomb. Clearly as grizzled as you get from years in the waste, with a short beard, the man apparently has just finished eating a meal. To most folk, he probably looked like another one of the drifters come to town because of the message. This, however, was Allen T. Shorey. Soon, it became rather clear. Walking into the center of town, just out of the pool of water around the bomb, the man shoot a 10mm pistol into the air, getting attention from pretty much everyone. He waited a second before speaking up. "Alright, recruitment's gonna be in the common house. Head over there, if ya wanna join." The man yelled loudly, though it was still hard to make out the words if you were inside. Those inside the saloon would have to strain to make it out if they hadn't walked out at the gunshot. Still, it'd be easy to ask where to go now. The man himself started walking up a ramp in the direction of the common house, where he set up a simple desk out of a table in the back of it, waiting for recruits.

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The gunfire from outside turned Search's attention sharply, his features going hard in an instant. Where there was gunfire, there was trouble. He rose from his seat and strode over to the door quickly, his hand parting the flap of his trench-coat and gripping the concealed 9mm pistol, an old CZ-75 in good condition. He'd taken very good care of it since he'd found it, and it'd never failed him once. He flicked off the safety while it was still in its holster as he pressed his shoulder up against the wall by the door of the saloon, and with his free hand, he turned the knob and opened the door just enough to peer outside. He could clearly hear what was going on outside now. Shorey's message came through to him clear as a bell, and he relaxed.

Flicking the safety back on his pistol, he went to grab his hat. "Shorey's meeting us at the Common House. Gob, if you want the rest of my drink, you can have it." He grabbed his hat and strode outside. The steps to the Common House were shoddy and uneven, but he made it there soon enough. He went inside.

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Axel reared his head around as the hooded man began moving out. It took a bit of straining but his helmet helped pick it up. Faint but the sound was clear, a bullet its origin unknown but bullets are bullets. Which meant when one has been sent flying a fight should start. He pushed himself up from the table and removed his helmet. A small bit of steam pouring out after being bottled in for god knows how long. Axel reaches down grabbing his vodka. He chugs own three quarters of it and smashes the other end on the table.

It breaks and shards of glass go in different directions, but axel could care less since a majority of his body has two inches of hard metal protecting it. Flipping the bottle into a offensive position in his left hand he flicks his right wrist and three blades come out of his wrist. Two on the top separated and one on the bottom in between them. He twists some knobs on his gas tank on his back and loosens the bulky colored flamethrower.

Axel charges forward prepare to ram right through the hood-man when he revealed the area of Mister T shorey as three dog put it. He stops abruptly with a lazy half frown on his face. Well there went today’s evening fun. Here’s your pay, try not to get face on it. Axel snorts then throws some caps in gobs directions, a few of them hitting the floor. Axel proceeds to grab his helmet and lock it onto his side then walk out following the rest of the group weapons ready

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For the king, For the king, For the sake of Skyrim. For the Nine, for the hope of High Hrothgar's pass, and for all of Sovngarde; Where the souls sing your song. For the king, For our King, who will guard Hrothgar! Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin, wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!
Ahrk fin norok paal graan, fod nust hon zindro zaan, Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!

"That's me too I guess...", the bony ex-trader said, standing up, and hoping that no one noticed it was someone else's drink he 'Finished off' before he stood up to follow the other prospective mercs, skirting around the disquietingly warm pool of water at the town's center as he made his way to the common house.

Myles walked foreward then bent down to pick up the caps the vulger man had thrown. He put them carefully on the counter with a quite "Here." He smiled crookedly and walked out with a slight wave, "That's me too, seeya. If none of us are killed by that maniac," the teen said easily.

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Raz cracked his neck to his right then his left, downed another scotch and put a few caps on the table as if they were nothing to him. Which they most likely were with him having the most experience it seemed out of this lot he knew where he could get a helluva lot more like that. Hmm maybe he could grab some scrap metal from his house and give it to Walter as he's always looking for scrap and he pays some good caps for it. "There ya go Gob, if Moriarty does anything to ya again just give me a shout and I deal with him." Raz smirked and nodded his head upwards as if Gob knew what he was talking about. He then picked his rucksack off the floor and slung it over his left shoulder and followed a little behind of this ensemble which seemed to be on this short hunt for Shorey.

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-Moriarty's Saloon-

Eleina raised a delicate brow at the lack of attention. Strange, maybe the leaking bomb rendered everyone impotent here, or my makeup is a mess. She thought as she sat down to the bar away from the others. “A glass of clean water, please.” She gave Gob a smile, and placed some caps on the counter. After her drink arrived she took out a small mirror, and a piece of semi-clean cloth. The woman dipped the edge of the cloth into the glass to make it wet, and started to clean up her face and tidying her hair using the mirror.
Eleina jolted at the sound of the gunshot came from outside and moved back in her seat as she watched Axel going into overdrive. “Oh god…” She muttered to herself at the display. She watched everyone moving out from the bar, and then turned back to her drink and makeup. “What a bunch of meatheads.” She rolled her big eyes, and put away the mirror after she found her appearance satisfying. She took the remaining glass of water and took a sip. “Maybe this mercenary thing wasn’t such a good idea after all.” She sighted. Eleina wasn’t in a hurry. The others will probably all elbow each other to sign up. She shivered as she pictured everyone trying to seem to be the meanest, manliest man the wasteland brought forth. “Maybe I should start shooting films again… ah, I miss Reno.” She mused while she sipped her water giving time for the testosterone storm to settle down.

-Common House-

Shorey was sitting on a chair behind a table, back against the far wall of the building. With a tough glare, he stared at the door until someone entered. Almost eagerly, it seemed. As soon as Search walked in, the man pointed straight at him. "You! Get over here. Name and skills, kid. The rest of you, line up behind him." He was a very... loud, man. You could hear him even outside the building. Not a harsh voice, but certainly a commanding one.

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Damien decided to strike out for the bar. It seemed like a place drifters would go to. And everyone who was going to be on this job would probably be a drifter. He headed over there just in time to here someone shouting. He loosened his rifle a little, just in case something went wrong, and entered the bar. He looked around, getting a handle on the situation. He was startled when he was shouted at but quickly replied. "Damien Geckobane. I can shoot, do basic first aid, and I know a bit about stuff like computers."

_________________
Final Fantasy IX was the best Final Fantasy game ever and if you think otherwise you are WRONG!

My fanfiction account. Comments and criticisms are very welcome.

Search blinked in surprise. "Damn. You're louder than a screaming rape victim." He tipped his hat though, and followed his instructions with a smile. "Ryan Sherlock, but some people call me Search. I'm a survivalist, a combat medic, and I'm damn good with a gun." His mouth curved into a light frown. "Also--not sure what your background is, but I'd appreciate not being called 'kid.' "

Myles followed Search and listened to the man introduce himself. "Um, hello," said the boy timidly, lifting his Ripper so it leaned against his right shoulder comfortably, "I'm Thanos Myles, sir. I may not look it but I'm a very strong physical fighter and I've got good endurance. I can take a hit as well as any man." He shook his red hair out of his face and smiled shyly, "I'd like to help in any way I can."

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Johnny reached up to tip a hat that was no longer there and grimaced slightly.

"Johnny Montaigne Sir. Pleasure to meet you, and I hope our business is mutually beneficial." he replied in a cordial tone, the kind of measured friendliness of every storekeeper looking for a new customer.

-Moriarty's Saloon-

Eleina watched the glass of water like it would have the answers to her questions. “Ahh the hell with it, I’ll throw a cap, if the outside is up, I’ll stay and try this merc stuff. If the inside is up, I’ll head back to Nevada, maybe Vegas. That should be far enough from Reno to stay out of trouble.” The woman tossed the cap into the air and watched it dance on the bar. Then she finished her drink, and simply left through the front door. The ghoul bartender collected the empty glass, and the cap with outside face turned down.

-Common House, Shorey-

Shorey was quick in ordering, making decisions, and shooting. He was loud at talking, yelling, and shooting. This much was all clear. "Damien, huh? Shootin' is always good, aid's nice, and we always can use a computer guy. Welcome. You die, not my fault." He promptly pulled a handful of caps, and tossed them to Damien. Just a few, not much more then a drink or two worth. "You can sit and watch the others, or go and drink or something. Don't matter much." Motioning Damien off, he turned to the next man to speak up. "Search, huh? Not bad. More shooter's and medics the better. Makes me wonder how you know how loud a rape victim screams. Anyways, I've seen enough fighting to call you kid, boy. You die, your fault. Same as him then, go off, stay, whatever." Tossing Search some caps and waving him away, he speed through the next two like a ripper through a radroach: quick, loud and messy. It seemed to be his way. He was speaking fairly loud, and pretty darn fast. Not so fast no one could understand him, but faster than most folks. "Right. I'll call you Myles. We need a tough guy. You die, yada yada. And Johnny, that doesn't tell you what you do." Tossing some caps at Myles, he held some in his hand, holding onto them until Johnny spoke up.

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Johnny adjusted his attitude just slightly. Unless you were looking for it specifically, you'd never notice it until it was over, his back straightening, smile thinning and eyes hardening.

"Me, Mr. Shorey? Why, I talk. More than that though, I listen. I learn. And I don't shoot anything unless it's determined not to be useful. Also, I am good at hitting things." he said, staring into Shorey's eyes in just such a way to appear as no-nonsense as possible without seeming confrontational.