Fallout RP [Ch. 1] Nuclear Commonwealth

The pungent smell of alcohol and blood waft through the air and invades his nostrils. The lights that had begun to burn Tallahassee's eyes dim and the roar of the crowd that had become too much for his ears come to an abrupt end. This relief would not last long as a spotlight activates and finds it's way off center stage and to the left to find a man. The new announcer who had taken over for the former announcer and current owner of Combat Zone grabs the microphone's stand and clears his throat just as the light hits his frame. He looks on to the crowd that the fighters had all managed to pull in for the night. Many regulars, but a few new faces stick out to him behind his sunglasses. His voice booms and echoes all across the theater turned haven of sin.

"I want to thank you all once again for coming out tonight. We have seen many great bouts and we have all had the pleasure of seeing blood spilled, but now! We see more than just blood being dropped. We see two lives on the line. That's right ladies and gentlemen! It is time for the main event! Betting time is now over." He says with excitement in his voice. "I, Collin Strathe, am proud to present your fighters. First, The one who had pocketed caps from his brothers and sisters. Literally STOLE from our fine establishment. STOLE from you, our humble patrons. The one we once had the pleasure of knowing as 'Glacier'" The spotlight rips away from Collin and lands squarely on the man straight across from Tallahassee. The crowd goes wild with echoing "boos" filling the theater and ramping up until Collin's voice booms over them.

"But tonight! Tonight this Glacier will break. In. Two. Tonight! Glacier faces off against our star. The man who brought this place to its former glory. The man you all have come to see tonight. The man who should not need this long of an introduction. I am talking about Tallahassee Singuard!" The spotlight comes off of Glacier and brings itself fluidly to shine upon Tallahassee's battered body. Years of fighting and putting his life on the line show in each and every scar. Eight long years of pain and suffering for the sweet rush he feels whenever he steps into the arena. This rush slowly begins to overcome him as time approaches. The crowd also feels this rush and shows it with exuberance with loud cheers which could probably be heard by the guards outside the building.

Kayla moved up to the door of the Combat Zone, the guards outside already taken care of. She'd been here once, looking for one of her Brothers, who had turned out to be a synth. She'd barely gotten out alive. Elder Maxson had declared it an enemy of the Brotherhood, and now, it was going to be wiped out. For a second time, if what Kayla had heard was true. A scout had also reported a large number of gunners, who tended to have high-tech equipment. Two birds and one stone.

Kayla moved up, her Power Armour thudding loudly against the ground. She was the only one wearing hers, anymore and it would've just been wasting resources. She kicked the door down and walked in, swinging her gatling laser to bare on the room.
"We are the Brotherhood of Steel. You are suspected of harbouring synths, and have refused to cooperate with our search. This is your final chance, surrender or be purged."

The entrance hall goes silent. In the years prior it had turned into the first stage of the long nights for many wastelanders. Poles had been propped into the wood that used to be reserved for raiders who had betrayed their own. Strippers have taken their place and serve to only bring pleasure. These girls stop their act and look on at the Brotherhood of Steel members. The people they are dancing for, mostly civilians from outside looking to get a bit frisky look visibly panicked. A few stand up with their hands raised, shaking heavily. They didn't want to die.

"S-Synths!?" One calls out "No way!" Another joins in. "I don't want to die, please!" Adds another. This last statement is repeated multiple times in the sea of people. Their eyes on the soldiers. More guards from the inside move in front of the civilians. A group of about four poised to be bullet sponges to protect the patrons. Not loaded up too heavily. Just one 10mm a piece lay on each of their hips. A tall man with a medium build dressed in a suit steps forward to the one dressed in full Power Armor. His arms crossed in front of him. "Maybe that's because there ain't no synths comin' in here." He says in a thick Boston accent. Obviously not perturbed in the slightest by the group of better armed adversaries. "But if you want to wave your toys around I can get the owner out here to do some negotiating. Ain't no blood needin' to be spilled here besides the blood in the arena."

"We're not here to negotiate anymore," Kayla answered, several two Knights and an initiate filing in behind her, weapons raised. "All of you are going to drop your weapons and come with us peacefully. If you aren't a synth, you'll be released." The initiate started to fidget. The equipment of these people wasn't anything special, but for someone as inexperienced as him, it would be pretty uncomfortable. "If anyone tries to run, we'll have to assume you're guilty."

The guard's arms stay where they are, but a sneer appears on his face. "Give us some time to organize this shit then. Of course, we got Gunners deeper in. I'm sure Tommy wouldn't mind them gettin' some holes in 'em." He makes a motion with his head to the group behind him. As if they are telepathically linked, they fan out. A couple going past the second set of doors, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes into the entrance hall and screams of pain follow soon after. The man left behind, keeping his eyes trained on the soldiers calls out to the civilians. "I apologize for this inconvenience but I am going to have to ask you all to go with the brotherhood. Anyone who runs will perish!" He says obviously annoyed.

It does not take long for Combat Zone's owner Tommy Lonegan's voice to echo through the entire building. A gruff and raspy voice repeats what the guard in the suit had said, but with a bit more colorful language. Which, in turn, causes a ruckus and soon the entrance hall is filled with Gunners. Most of the civilians back off and begin to cower in corners, or run to the back of the theater. The man in the suit steps off to join the civilians. A shaved head brutish looking man wastes no time in talking and draws his rifle. Firing off a burst of bullets into one of the Brotherhood members. Which sets off a chain reaction.

The minute the first shot was fired, Kayla and one knight returned fire. The initiate had gone down, and another knight was helping him. Outside, the second initiate was calling for support. The barrels of her laser started spinning, and laser fire rained down on the Gunners, their bullets pinging against her power armour. Slowly, Kayla advanced into the room, still firing her weapon.

Tables begin to flip. The Gunners making makeshift cover out of their surroundings. The guards of Combat Zone begin helping the Brotherhood members with what little firepower they had. The Gunners were effectively in a pincer attack. Their hubris had made most of them fall to the ground in puddles of their and their comrade's blood. Further into the building more shots could be heard as the Gunners who had been told to not help with the first wave were being cleaned out. Screams of fear begin to ring out with the bullets as more civilians run to find cover, unfortunately some fail in this prospect.

Kayla's laser incinerated another Gunner, leaving only a pile of ash and the smell of ozone. A laser flew past her, striking a Gunner square in the face. A grenade arcs over her head, landing behind one of the Gunner's overturned tables, a leg flying across the room in the resulting explosion.
Kayla focused her fire on a particular table, quickly chewing through it and the Gunner behind. The soldiers behind her were starting to advance, keeping the enemy combatants pinned down.

It doesn't take long for the Gunner's forces to dwindle down to nothing. What with the constant barrage from two different sides and eventually the Gunner's forces would be depleted. All that is left now is a sea of bodies. The bartender, who had taken refuge behind the bar pops up and heaves a great sigh as he wipes away some of the fresh blood off of the wood. He pushes a body off as well and polishes a glass. He acts as if this is a normal, everyday occurrence. The civilians who remain stop cowering and begin to look around. A dead silence begins to fill the area, until the resonating sound of someone punching someone else begins to remove that silence.

Eyes turn to the cage to see the man who brought them there still attacking his already dead opponent. The repetitious sound of Tallahassee's fist pounding away at Glacier's face. Beating it to a bloody pulp and nearly caving it in. With a very loud yell he slams his fist into Glacier one last time. People might think him crazy with his actions and especially the look in his eyes, but the regulars know this is how fights in the cage with Tallahassee go. He walks up to the face of the cage and slams his bloody palms against it. A crazed look in his eyes looking like an animal trapped in a cage with a fresh kill.

Kayla shot a glance at the owner,
"Need to put your dog on a leash? We don't want any accidents."

Tommy looks to Tallahassee and then back to the BoS Soldier in Power Armor. "Eh, he's just a little hopped up. He should be fine, he knows who to go after." He replies, going up to the cage and unlocking it. "Let's go, Sin." Tallahassee's eyes never stray from the BoS soldiers as he walks out of the cage. He pats his bloody hand on Tommy's suit, which gives him an annoyed sigh by Tommy. Who leads him back up to the soldiers.

"Let's get this over with. I gotta get my payment." Tallahassee says in a deep voice with a slight hint of a Boston accent.

Ignoring the addict, Kayla moved up to the front of the room. Outside, two Vertibirds were carrying a cage, that the prisoners were going to be transported in. Two knights had been brought to keep order while a scribe made notes of everyone and their possessions. If all went well, they'd been done within the hour.
"Everyone, form an orderly line and wait to be admitted. Anyone who attempts to flee, will be shot." Kayla said, her power armour amplifying her voice.

The patrons move into lines and follow instructions accordingly, Tallahassee passes by one of the scribes and looks him over. "Nice robes" He spouts off before spitting a glob of his own blood onto the scribe's robes. "The others might think you actually did some work now, besides being a pencil pusher. You're welcome." He says in a sarcastic tone before walking into the cage. The people that had entered the cage before him move to one side to let him pass. Maybe it was fear? He doesn't care, he leans against the cage in his own little corner awaiting the aircraft to take them out.

Messlock let out a low sigh under his breath as he sat down in the cage, thinking about the alternative. When the Brotherhood had showed up and kicked the door in, he'd been quick to recede into place with the civilians - he hadn't come in with the other Gunners, so as far as he was concerned he had no prior affiliation, certainly not enough to die for them. It was there own idea to fire on armoured infantry, not his. Becoming their prisoner, even if only for a short while, was better than a permanent death.

He pulled his pack off and set it on his feet, opening it up and sighing. Grenades, molotovs, his hunting rifle - if he wanted he could take out the scribe and a few others, maybe. But two Vertibirds? The power armoured folk? He wouldn't stand a chance. He pulled out a carton of dirty water, a pack of Cram and his fork, and a cigar, before zipping the bag shut again. The water ran down his throat quite calmly, after all the whiskey he'd enjoyed by the bar. The Cram... Well, it was Cram. He wasn't expecting a feast. The cigar was kept in his sleeve for now, as he enjoyed the time he had as best he could, given the circumstances.