#iggybot

The thing is, his business is mostly food and clothes, pre-war and ever-increasingly rare: lace, bobbins, those scraps of silk and cotton the bugs and mold haven’t completely obliterated and made useless yet, the occasional box of something too sweet for his tastes but fine enough for people who don’t worry about having caps to spare, everything that seems much too fine and delicate for someone with hands as rough as his to touch.  This robot stuff?  The neatest thing he’s ever seen but not his usual line of work. 

But the other thing is, he owes one of his scavving partners some stuff of this sort of thing after a run went completely south and let it not be said that Jack did not try to stay in good graces with his friends and allies.  More than that, he’s ringing up so many bills after chasing experimental cures for his ailments that it makes him dizzy if he thinks about it too much.  There’s always something new that he’s going to empty his pockets trying, though he always knows on some level that at best, he’s only delaying the inevitable.

But he’s doing good relatively (maybe not in life in general but doing pretty good in this specific task), slipping through the place as stealthily as a man can be when he’s got a bag full of electrical components and a gun the size of Texas.  Sure, he could carry more if he wasn’t toting around Lafayette but it’s just sensible to have a weapon that can take down a vertibird (not that he’s had to, of course, not wanting to arouse the ire and interest of the Brotherhood of Steel, but he likes knowing he could.) when you’re robbing the property of a bunch of people who like to incorporate the skulls of their enemies in their designs for machines of death and destruction.

Incidentally, he thinks incorporating the skulls of your enemies in robotic design is totally rad. His group just stuck them on poles and the occasional hook, which just doesn’t have the same pizzazz.  Sometimes he thinks that it’s a real shame he’s not caught up in the murder and highway robbery business anymore because now that he’s seen more of the world and what it has to offer, he could really cultivate a better sense of style and theatrics as a raider...and then he realizes that no, that’s actually not a line of thought he should acknowledge in any way, shape, or form and he should abandon that severely misguided sense of nostalgia at once.

But to the present.  He’s making good time, has enough to make it up to his partner and maybe make a good-sized dent into the bills he’s just going to amass again, hasn’t even had to fire a single bullet, and then suddenly, suddenly he sees something that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

Iggybot just had a birthday!