☣〘 HAWKINS

SYNTH

/sinTH/

noun: a biological or mechanical robot manufactured within the institute laboratories. these range from skeletal early models, to those nearly indistinguishable from human beings save for small mechanical components in the brain.

an indie fallout oc, written by zig (he/they) & mutuals only

𝚁𝚄𝙻𝙴𝚂/𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂

discord available upon request!

other blogs: katathianhonor , prfctshot , frcebalanced , csborn , ofoutcasts

MERCENARY WORK IS STATISTICALLY VIOLENT, DIFFICULT TO PREDICT. He prefers baking bannock bread in an iron skillet hung over a fire pit, trading salted loaves for bullets with clients in Goodneighbor and Diamond City; far removed from the commonwealth’s largest paramilitary criminal organization in the region, Owen Grady is a glorified errand boy living in anonymity. He knows the weight, the texture, the recoil of a rifle in his callused hands; he will always know it. He does not need to be reminded.

He makes an exception for Hawkins’ synth-liberating campaign. The Railroad is an old client, an old ally, from another lifetime. “You’re puttin’ a bigger target on your back,”  it is an earnest, cautionary statement. “You shoot, they shoot back. Can’t make it to the dead drop if you’re dead.”

“We do this quietly, with as little enemy engagement as possible…”  he pauses, adding, as an afterthought,  

“How well can you handle a knife?”

𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝚆𝙴𝙽   —  𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙳𝙾𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃.another nod from the synth.  there’s no way of getting to the dead drop if he wasn’t alive to get there.  that’d just make a bigger problem.          ❝  fair point.  ❞          a comment during the pause, not interrupting the other’s words.  he knew stealth was always the better option, but if they did have to go out guns blazing?  at least he wasn’t just dead weight on the job.

the question of his knife skills prompts him to draw out his army-grade combat knife, a steady grip, rotating it to an equally steady under-grip before sliding it back in it’s own holster.             ❝  i can handle my own with one of these bad boys if that’s what you’re asking.  ❞

     ⁚⁛☀  lenka finds herself grinning; one of those genuine, stupid grins that a person only lets happen when they really can’t stop themselves. whatever. she likes hawkins. he’s better company than at least ninety-eight percent of the drifters they get coming through these parts, and easily smells better to boot. “ that’s funny, ” she says with mock confusion as she perches on the edge of their wall - a lumpy amalgamation of lumber, tires and old engine parts that somehow manages to look intimidating, at least from the outside. “ I don’t see a party. just a lonely dork flyin’ solo. ” the grin is back after only a moment, though, and lenka carefully lowers herself down so she can meet him, offering her hand to grasp his forearm as he approaches.

“ we’re good. nothing exciting, as usual. couple of ferals wandering around to the north, but they haven’t been a problem so far, so we’re just tellin’ people to go the long way around. ” her new rifle, heavy against her hip, bumps awkwardly as she walks, and lenka has to pause to adjust her hold on the oversized monstrosity. “ graeme’s letting me play with the big-girl toys, though, so clearly he’s worried about somethin’. ”

𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙰𝙲𝚁𝙾𝚂𝚂 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂𝚃, 𝙿𝙴𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚄𝙿 𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝚂 she looks around.  a playful roll of his eyes matched the grin that pulled onto his lips at her response to him.  his pistol was tucked into it’s holster   —  he felt at least somewhat safe in this area.  he was a regular, not seen as a threat.  but he was always alert enough to react quickly if need be.        ❝  are you sure your eyes are working?  you didn’t get radiation in them or somethin’, did you?  ❞        he responds, head cocked to the side, brown eyes following her as she hops down and returns her greeting.

❝  hey, if you need those cleared, i don’t mind helping the cause.  ❞        he comments.  sure, unprovoked, ferals might not be too much of a threat.  until they catch wind of something living being nearby.  they might be good to keep unwanted visitors at bay    —   or to give enough of a heads up if someone’s approaching.  but it can’t be good for business.  

          ❝   i’d  prefer  it  if  you  didn’t  touch  anything   ——-  my  wallet… .  could  you  hand  it  to  me,  please?  ❞   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 - 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑  @synthtics​​

The Dugout was quieter than usual; that was the way Nick liked it if he was there for anything but snooping. He was there for a drink this time, though he was more tasting than sipping. It left him feeling social enough to sit closer at the bar, a little smile on his face.

Maybe he got lonely sometimes. Who’s to say? He reached out to place an order for Hawkins– the same whiskey on ice Nick was nursing. “It’s good to be wrong sometimes.”

“…How old are you, Hawkins?” 

𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙰 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴.  usually, diamond city wasn’t his first choice, however, with the right company, he didn’t mind it.  and, well, nik usually kept himself in good company  ( considering everyone knows he’s a synth, the assholes who had an issue usually didn’t stick around ).   he offers a thanks when his buddy placed the order for him, another nodded thanks towards the bartender.         ❝  keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?  ❞

❝  you sure you don’t want me shooting with you?  ❞

𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝚈 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝚇 𝙶𝚄𝙽𝙽𝙴𝚁, but he wanted to offer his assistance in a way that would provide the most efficiency.  at least in his eyes it’d be more efficient to have them both shooting, rather than just the one.         ❝  i’m a pretty good shot.  ❞        hawkins wasn’t being defensive, but rather attempting to convince the other he was capable.  

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴’𝚂 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 pulls onto his lips.  partially reminiscent.  but he knew he couldn’t really just stay.  not for long periods at a time at least.  he’s got a job to do, which, does require longer periods of time away.         ❝  i know, i know.  i bring the party with me.  ❞         it was mostly a joke, though he did know he did bring some sort of life to wherever he was.  as long as there was good company at least.

𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚂, 𝚄𝙽𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙴𝚇𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 she was talking about.  nothing horrible by any means comes to his mind.  was she selling her arsenal?  was she making fresh yao guai roast and selling it?  he’s got no clue.            ❝  yeah.  yeah, of course !  ❞        he nods a good solid nod, a smile making it’s way onto his lips.  one that definitely gives away that he has absolutely no clue what she’s getting at.  that he’s too embarrassed to ask.

“Uh… nobody?”

“You sound like you could use a drink, Hawkins.”