#psychotheory

We are pleased to appoint Dr. Asa Don Brown as an advisor (Mental Health) at Alokbortika.

After days of being perched up on an old billboard sign, it almost felt strange to be walking upon the ground again. Though as much as he would prefer the solitude and tactical advantage that heights provided, Mateo knew he couldn’t remain there forever. It was time to mingle back into society. 

His rifle was in dire need of repairs, and while he would’ve preferred to have it repaired by his own hands or that of an NCR civilian or personnel, he lacked the materials and there were no outposts nearby. Just a small settlement of a town was his only option. While none of the people were hostile as he entered, he wasn’t blind to the stares aimed his way. Once pointed in the direction of a repairman, he was quick to head that way.

Mateo didn’t care that he was wearing the NCR’s insignia, and he especially didn’t care that he was still wearing the Ranger helmet. He only cared about getting his gun repaired, to which he pulled it from off his shoulder as he neared the man he was told about. Briefly clearing his throat, he looked over the other before speaking.

          ❝ I don’t like this place. It smells, and there are addicts everywhere, ❞    his voice is a growl, his eyes focused dead ahead, rather than to glance at the human nearby. It seems as if he hasn’t noticed him in the first place, but to assume that would be a mistake as tremendous as the Ghoul himself.

“Hey there, Scavver.” 

It wasn’t often Kay found herself running into people in the Wasteland that just seemed to be searching for whatever could be left in the old and ruined buildings. Most of the time it seemed there was only junk lying around, but even junk had a use at times. The lucky prizes to find were usually ammo, and that was what she was currently searching for herself.

She kept her hands on her hips and tilted her head as she watched him. Aside from the rifle slung behind her, she didn’t try to make herself look any more threatening. Kay had enough enemies in the Commonwealth, and she wasn’t jumping at the chance to make another. 

“Is there a certain treasure you’re looking for, or something?”

It was a lazy sort of day. One of those rare moments in time when the unforgiving desert heat was too much even for a woman that grew up with those harsh rays beating down on her. The building she was taking shelter in was still mostly intact, but more importantly the attached porch was also in good shape. That was were the wanderer chose to stay, stretched out across the wooden flooring with her back against the wall and the awning above shading her from the sun.

A giant dog was laid out on the porch next to her, nearly half the wanderer's size and panting in the heat, while her fingers idly scratching at the coarse hairs around its ears.

They had been like that for most of the day, content to simply be where they were and wait for night to come. A fragile moment of peace and quiet that is broken as soon as her furry companion hears footsteps. The dog’s head raised up and Valin reached for the sledgehammer propped up against the wall next to her, just in case.

“I can fix that for you. If you allow me to, of course.” Her experience with Eridian tech gave her an edge that not all humans had. However, while she was knowledgeable about Eridian tech, her knowledge on the tech that humans used was a little more stunted. The Watcher had managed to pick up a few things on her travels here and there and she was slowly learning the ways of different things. Guns were her forte, always had, always would be. Things like vehicles, however, were a different story. 

This didn’t seem like it would be too bad though. Not exactly out of her comfort zone, but not too far out of it that she didn’t know what she was doing. Of course, her fixing this was at the entirety of if the man wanted to trust her with it. Her own weapon was strapped to her back, her body language as relaxed as a Guardian’s could be in this situation. While it wasn’t out of the question that the man would turn around and fire at her, The Watcher wanted to come off as non-threatening as possible.

“I may be able to add an edge to it too, if you so wish. But that would take me a little bit longer.” Not that that helped much with the whole trusting her issue, but it was a start. Neither of them were going to get anywhere if either of them didn’t try. Well, The Watcher could. There was nothing stopping her from continuing on, unassuming that anything here could kill her. This was the moment of truth.

Roaring. Sailors surrounded him, green eyes, brown, blue, some blackening and their skin starting to slough and fall. Oil lamps swayed with the ship and their muskets clicked. 

“Deliver him to the captain!” one roared. Another swatted him back.

“Stand aside!”

He shoved, and all at once, havoc erupted. Men grabbed at each other, their sea-worn boots scraping against the wood, hats falling and fists balled into each other’s collars, and a swarm of bodies pushed and pushed until two or three toppled and smacked hard against the splintered deck. Thief! Robber! Villain!

A shot fired. A flash of light.

“On your knees!”  

All at once, the crew dropped. Silence trickled in. The hull moaned. From the ship’s hatch, a man emerged, Andrew Alexander Corrigain, captain of the RNS Terror, looming like an omen and weaving past the wordless crowd. A man...

“There is to be no maelstrom! No chaos! No hysteria or a thing thereof!” His blue eyes, slate in the night, found the stranger. Corrigan’s face stilled. “And to whom this man owes his welcome, he is to make himself known.”

      “ don’t come any closer, that’s far enough. ”