#technogunblade

--”Oh, blast it all!  Aahhh...that’s just my luck,” came Jane’s voice as they were finishing up their preparations around the camp.  She stood over their collected gear, with her hands obviously on her hips, but as far as whatever expression of frustration may be painted on her face, he could only guess - best one was her pursing her lips with a pout.  

--”Somethin’ the matter?” Jake asked from where he crouched, glancing up in his usual act of “Hey, I can totally see!”

--”I forgot to grab one of our bags!”  Her hand went to her face, but it just melded with the rest of the beige blur that was her head.  “That was most of our food, and a good amount of our water!”

--Worry caused his brow to furrow as he stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back as he did so.  He took a moment to analyze her tone, to see if she was yanking his chain, but found no evidence that would suggest otherwise.  And she and Max were in charge of their bags today, since he and Marie were yesterday...Damn it, she was probably telling the truth.

--”Hey, it’s alright.  I’ll just go back an’ grab it.  I remember where that was.”  He lowered his voice before he continued.  “Just keep an eye peeled on those two, alright?  Still think there’s somethin’ off ‘bout Max.  I’ll be back in a jiff.”

--Jane continued the hushed tone of their conversation, walking over to him and making sure she wasn’t facing the northern lovebirds.  “Jake, you’d have to go through the metros again...That’s a day’s walk, at best.  It’s not safe.”

--A smug smirk played at Jake’s lips as he laughed, mussing up Jane’s hair to try and dash away any concern.  “A day’s walk down your path.  You seem to forget that I won’t be hindered by you and the tourists.  Should be...an hour, at best?  You needn’t fret over me!”

--Oh, how he hated the fact he was currently monitoring Max.  He couldn’t get a read off of Jane’s emotions, so when she crossed her arms over her chest (made apparent by the beige folding over red), he couldn’t tell if she was being smug, or huffy.  Her continued soft tone suggested the latter.  “Well, excuse me for being concerned over my bat-like brother!  Normally, I would dub you with the moniker of bat, but you’ve no way of navigating the same way they do!  You’re just a bat, without any of the fancy abilities.”

--”Memory.  I’ve got that.  Just trust me, I’ll be back in no time.” 

--A sigh from Jane.  

--“Fine.  But know that if you do die, I’ll follow those be damned culstist’s example and look into ways of bringing you back via eldritch means just so I can kick your ass for leaving me here.”

--That earned a snort from Jake as he felt to made sure his guns were still in their appropriate holsters.  With a non-committal good-bye, he left the camp and headed in the direction of their old campsite.  

--Instead of taking the normal route of an underground trek through zombie-like victims of nuclear fallout, Jake went above ground - figuratively, and literally.  He not only trudged through the derelict streets of once-D.C., but also took to the buildings, darting through rubble as he scaled those decrepit skyscrapers and leaping from window to window through sheer memory alone.  Having explored the ruins top to bottom while he could still mostly see, and being able to sense the world’s mangled heart helped a lot in this expedition of his.

--It took him about forty-five minutes to reach their old campground, just as darkness blanketed the wastes.  If he didn’t have a hard time seeing anyways...Christ.

--With a slight huff, Jake rested his hands on the grips of his pistols, trudging towards the broken down theater they once called shelter.  Such a large building would normally be cause for caution, and not be the best place to stay...but with a group of four, they decided to forgo the smalls places they normally went with.  Still cautious, as anything could’ve moved into the space in their absence, Jake carefully pushed the large door open and moved inside.

--A small snap was the only indicator it was too late.

--That sound meant only one thing: a tripwire.  That spelled trouble in ways that rushed through Jake’s mind rapidly as he made to run.  Grenade bouquet, activating some kind of turret, something!  He had to get out of there and to cover as quickly as possible.

--Jake broke into a run, trying to cover as much ground as possible in case it was a bundle of grenades ready to ruin his day.  Everything was too loud around him - his footsteps, his breathing, his pulse - god this was shit!  He was going to get ambushed, he was going to get killed, and he’d leave Jane alone in the wastes!  Fuck!  He hadn’t even covered much ground yet!  He’d barely even crossed the threshold!

--Before something came flying down and smacking him in the face.

--Jake screamed.  His gun was in his hands in a matter of seconds as he was face to face with some mass of fleshy discoloration, the stench of it all overwhelming him.  He could easily see the blurred image of a disfigured face, twisted in a deathly grimace.  The ghoul that swung into him had him stumbling backwards as he pulled his firearm up and fired a few rounds into its disgusting head.  

--But no screams came from the twisted fallout victim.

--Jake paused and lowered his gun, tilting his head to the side as he waited for a reaction.  When none came, he carefully ran his hand over the disgusting ridges that were the ghoul’s taut skin.  There was the gunshot, smack dab between its eyes...but it wasn’t bleeding.  It seeped a little, but it wasn’t bleeding.  Further examination lead to the discovery of a large gash across its chest, sticky with old blood and other bodily fluids...definitely not a wound he’d inflict.  Probably Max, or-

--Jane.

--Jake ripped the body from the tether it was clearly on, a small thump accompanying it crumpling at his feet.  Of course.  Of course Jane killed this ghoul, of course it was strung up, of course she sent him there.  It was the beginning of that goddamned month, and he should’ve known better! 

--”I swear to fucking god, I’m losing a sister when I get back,” he growled under his breath.  He was pissed.  He was legitimately scared, he was legitimately concerned about his sister, and she had to pull that shit.

--Well, he was going to get back at her.

--Ignoring the fact he heard the theater door move, and the fact he felt a sudden spike in panic over that estranged connection of his, Jake placed his hands on the ghoul’s head and dug his fingers into the monstrosity’s skin, placing a foot on its shoulders.  He could definitely hear someone talking behind him, but he was too mad to focus on that.  Fingernails digging into soft flesh, he pulled up on the head with all of his strength as he stepped down on the shoulder.  He met resistance (naturally), but continued at his demented task until finally-

--RIIIP.

--”O-oh, god.  What the fuck, Tony?!”

--Jake paused, the ghoul’s head clasped in his hands.  He turned to face the voice, and paled slightly when he registered the fact that was Max’s.

--”Did you seriously just--oh, god.”  Max stood behind him, the black that was his gloved hand on the beige that was his face.  ...Oh yeah, he did have a weak stomach.

--When’d he get there?!

--”...I was pissed off.”

--”Didn’t have to require you ripping that guy’s head off!”

--Jake just looked down at the head in his hands, furrowing his brow.  “Would you take ‘it’s proof’ as an excuse?”

--”Yeah, that’s going to have to be a hell no.”

--The young English rolled his eyes and kicked the body away, walking towards the entrance of the theater.  “Look, sorry.  Wasn’t expecting you to be here - were you following me?”

--A different kind of panic was transmitted through the anchor that Jake had planted in Max’s emotions, probably one of being...caught, probably.  He got that a lot from raiders trying to pretend to be innocent.  “I.  Uh.”  He paused.  “It was getting dark.  I got worried.”

--Jake just lightly shoved Max and walked past him.  “You needn’t, my god.  I can clearly handle myself.  Christ...y’all won’t let me do my own thing.”

--Maybe it was best they didn’t, because him doing his own thing soon lead to a dark camp, with poor Jane just about to doze off, when a decrepit head being thrown at her interrupted her sleep.

--Serves her right.

--

--Offscreen shenanigans!

“Max” and “Marie” wouldn’t stop staring at Jake’s ass when he was crouched down and arranging stuff

They were also staring at his various assets when he stretched

Jane trying to play up the act of being worried!

“Max” rushing off to help Jake the moment he heard him scream like the panicky, anxiety-ridden mess he is!

Jane dying from laughter and accidentally told “Marie” about Jake’s blindness, but swearing her to secrecy

Jane and Jake yelling about the decapitated head!