i am Not skilled at tagging

DO NOT REPOST

-

Back to back itafushi, I do not make the rules!

You know Megumi went home kicking and giggling after the date

I’m sorry but this is the funniest mental image

"Butcher Pete"

@falloutober

Word Count - 585

Andale. A picturesque town in the middle of nowhere. Two families, upholding the values of a long dead world, lived in the undamaged houses. They were too bright, too bubbly, too welcoming. It was all off. 

Standing in the kitchen for one of the families, whose names have long since left my mind, I tinkered with their radio. As I worked, I talked the men through the hows and whys of my actions. I just had to keep their attention for a little long. Cyrus would have the answers to what was really going on in this place before long. 

In my peripheral vision, I saw him emerge from the shed, lean against the wall, and loose all the contents of his stomach. Dogmeat followed immediately behind him, Standing guard at his feet. I didn’t know what he’d seen. I knew I should have checked it out. He was still new to the wasteland. He didn’t know the kinds of monsters that hid behind smiles. 

One of the men said something, a comment on my talent for a woman. I finished fixing the radio. 

“I’m terribly sorry to have stayed as long as I have. Me and my friend really must be going.” I made a move for the door. 

Stopping dead as a gun was leveled at me. 

“Listen stranger, I couldn’t help but notice your friend was poking around in Bill’s shed. Do you think he found what he was looking for in there.” 

“Probably, didn’t seem overly impressed with it-”

“You’re sick bastards.” Cyrus finished my sentance as he walked into the house. 

The man with a gun, turned to Cyrus and leveled his gun at him. “I’m disappointed in you stranger - so quick to judge us. Did you ever stop to think that I have a family to support here?” The other man had drawn a weapon, aiming at me. “ ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged’ as the good book says. Honestly, how many people have you killed?” He stepped forwards, “The only differecne between us is that I’m bringing home bacon for my family.” 

Cyrus, with some vomit still around his mouth responded before his brain had kicked in. “Bringing home the bacon? Those are people, not bacon! What the fuck?” 

My hand grasped the small pistol on my belt, this was going to get ugly. 

“Hey, I’ll have none of that language in this house!” 

I almost laughed. “Seriously, You’re talking about eating people here, our fucking language is the problem. What is wrong with you people?” 

“I don’t think I like your tone, young lady. There’s nothing wrong with me, we’ve lived this way for decades.” 

I caught Cyrus’ eye. He nodded. We both knew this couldn’t continue. The wasteland was full of monsters, but this was disturbing. I gave a small nod back. Preparing for the fight at hand. 

“We don’t care, Jack. You have to die. You and your sick little town.” 

“Well, I guess we know where our next meal is coming from -” He didn’t finish his sentence. Cyrus’ gun smoked. 

The next day, we had made it to Megaton with plans of repleishing our supplies when Butcher Pete began to play over the radio. Cyrus suddenly looked queasy and turned off his pipboy radio. 

“That was too soon.” he joked half heartedly. 

I had an art of that but it's too old so here's a redraw

⠀