Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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The Junk Brothers 2b/?

[(Anonymous)]

In the end, Elsa ended her own flight as a strap of her harness got caught in an extending piece of steel armouring from a heap of crumbling ferro concrete.
“Elsa”, Wolfgang crooned. “Elsa baby. Come here, don’t be afraid. It’s just your dear uncle Wolfgang. Me, Wolfie, you see?”
Elsa snorted and tore at her harness. A glass pitcher slipped out of a pack, shattering between her feet and Elsa, panicked but caught, kicked out again. Wolfgang in turn was fast enough this time and evaded the blow. He slowly walked around Elsa and finally got a grip on her halter.

“Good girl”, he muttered. “Poor little Elsiebaby.”
Elsa snorted while throwing back her other head.
With a mildly disgusted expression Wolfgang wiped Elsa’s snot from his face with his other hand. “Come on, Elsie. We’ve got work to do, darling.” With these words he leaned over, freed her harness and then reached into one of his pockets from which he produced a mutfruit. Elsa greedily extended one of her heads and slobbered the slightly shrivelled fruit out of his hand. “Come on, baby.” He tugged at the halter and Elsa followed him; hesitatingly, but she followed him. Wolfgang clicked his tongue. “Come on.”

Flak lit a cigarette and exchanged a glance with his friend. Both couldn’t help but wonder about the exact relationship between Wolfgang and his brahmin while listening to him talk to her. It was a little disturbing and neither of the two felt like going into any more detail, not even imaginary.

George had caught up with them by now too, and together they picked their way back through the ruins towards the entrance of the armoury.
While Wolfgang now looked at Elsa’s wound and checked if she had hurt herself any more in her panicked flight, fussing about the creature like a mother hen, George lit a smoke with his back against a wall and Flak and Shrapnel began their search for a vehicle in still good enough a shape for it to be repairable.
All they found, however, were wrecks.

“I think we’ve come here in vain, buddy”, Flak said slowly after several hours of fruitless searching.
Shrapnel took a cigarette out of his pocket and clamped it between his lips. Producing a packet of matches he struck one which went out instantly. He struck another that met the same fate. “Fucksticks”. He struck a third one, and it caught. Heftily puffing his cheeks while shielding the small flame from the wind with his other hand he managed to light up his smoke just before he burned his fingertips. Then he looked around. “There’s gotta be something out here, man.”
Flak shrugged and, smoking with a thoughtful frown, Shrapnel walked past the gate and around a corner, staring at a ramp that led downwards but was blocked by a large heap of rubble and bricks. He puffed his cheeks, exhaled the smoke and then crawled over the rubble and down the ramp.
“You find something, buddy?”, Flak called as he followed him and watched Shrapnel pull a few bricks out of the heap at the bottom of the ramp.
“I think so”, was the slow reply.
Flak scrambled down over the rubble as well and looked at what his friend had found. At the wall, half hidden by the rubble of the collapsed walls from the top storeys of the building was a scratched and battered, old, rusty metal sign saying: “ALL TER IN VEHI S”.

They looked at each other.
“All terrain vehicles?” Flak chewed on his cigarette.
“I bet you”, Shrapnel replied. “Get the others, we need to move that shit.”
“How sure are you that the garage isn’t empty?”
Shrapnel shrugged with an unhappy grin. “We can only hope, buddy.”
Spitting out his butt end Flak shook his head with a sigh and climbed up the ramp again while behind him Shrapnel rolled up his sleeves and began to tear bricks out of the rubble.

The Junk Brothers 2c/?

[(Anonymous)]

It was after dark when the four men, drenched in sweat and with chapped, nicked and bleeding hands, had to call it a day. The rubble heap was decidedly smaller, but all four of them were absolutely knackered and they had a serious argument as to who should be keeping first watch. In the end they drew matches and Shrapnel lost.

After destroying four matches without managing to light up his next smoke he asked Flak to lend him his lighter for the night.
“Don’t drop it into any hole or something”, Flak said as he handed it over.
Shrapnel’s only reply was an angry snort as he settled down on the top of a rubble heap with his rifle across his knees. He lit his smoke, puffed a few clouds and stared into the darkness as Flak settled down onto his bedroll, watching his friend who emanated foul mood from every pore. After a few moments he got up again with a shake of his head and a small sigh.

Shrapnel gave him a mildly confused look as Flak settled down beside him.
Flak shrugged. “Easier to stay awake on a shared watch”, he said in a low voice and held out his hand for the lighter. Shrapnel handed it over with a small, crooked smile and when Flak had lit his own cigarette the two friends settled down, leaning against each other back to back while smoking silently, listening to the silence in the ruins around them and Wolfgang’s bestial snore.

{-(-)-}

They were up again with sunrise. With muscles still aching from the day before they dug into the rubble again, throwing stones, dragging steel armouring and shovelling grit like madmen trying to dig their way out of hell. In the end it was after midday when the four men, covered in sweat, dust and grime, had finally uncovered a large rolling shutter gate.

“How do we open it?”, Wolfgang asked, still slightly out of breath.
Flak knocked a few times on the gate, then banked his fist against it. A shower of dust and crumbs of rust rained down on him and with a frown, Flak extended the butt of his SMG and rammed it against the shutters with a hollow, crashing sound, leaving a dent in the old, decayed material. Narrowing his eyes he repeated this, deepening the dent, and with the third try he managed to punch a hole into the gate. He lowered his head and peeked in.
“See anything, buddy?”, Shrapnel asked with a trace of anxiety in his voice.
“Nope. It’s darker than the inside of the crack of my arse in there.”

Flak stood back and rubbed his chin while staring thoughtfully at the gate. Then his face lit up.
“Wolfgang?”
“Yup?”
“Got any rope?”
“Shitloads.”
“Good. Got a lead pipe?”
“Whaddya need a fucking lead pipe for?”
“Same I need the rope for, twit. Got one?”
“Dunno. Have to have a look.”

Wolfgang didn’t have a lead pipe, but after combing through the collapsed buildings around them and some serious tearing and dragging he and Flak were able to salvage some piping that would do the job. Flak tied the rope around the pipe with several knots and the slipped the pipe through the hole in the gate. After a tug on the rope, the pipe canted across the hole.

Wolfgang started to grin. “Nifty.”
Flak gave him a crooked smile. “Don’t count the chickens before they’ve hatched. The question is what will give first? The gate or the rope?”
Wolfgang frowned. “I guess we have to try it. Elsa!” He whistled through his teeth. “Elsa. Here!”
The brahmin slowly came trotting over, her ordeal from the day before quite obviously forgotten.
“Good girl. Over here.”
With a low moo the brahmin head-butted Wolfgang in the back who stumbled a step forward with a chuckle. “Silly thing. Now come here.” He took her halter and led her down the ramp where he tied the rope to her harness. Flak and Shrapnel walked up the ramp first, stepping aside to be out of the way and with anxious faces they watched as Wolfgang led Elsa back up the ramp. The brahmin snorted when the rope tensed, but Wolfgang coaxed her on. “Come on, baby.”

The Junk Brothers 2d/?

[(Anonymous)]

Digging her hoofs into the rubble Elsa followed the tug on her halter and snorted. Behind and below her, the gate began to groan and creak. “Come on Elsa, good girl!”
Elsa snorted again and emitted a low moo as the groaning of metal turned into a metallic screech.
“Good girl!”
The brahmin took another step and the metal finally gave. With an ear battering crash the gate tore out of its hinges on one side before it shattered into pieces.
“Fuck yeah!”, Wolfgang screeched before placing a kiss on one of Elsa’s noses. Flak and Shrapnel choose to ignore this and hurried down the ramp.

Kicking metal shards aside they cautiously walked into the cool darkness of the sub-basement. After sniffing the air Flak then switched his lighter on when they were a few steps further in.
“Jesus...” Shrapnel choked out. “Look at that!”

In the dim shaft of light falling through the gate they saw it. Protected from radiation, war, bombs and even ageing it stood there in its forgotten shelter, covered in a blanket of dust but almost unblemished, with even the tires still intact.

“What is that, buddy?” Flak walked slowly around it as Shrapnel touched the driver’s door.
“That...”, he said with a slightly awestruck voice, “... is a Chevrolet Pickup Rat Rod.”
“A Chevvie?”
The two exchanged a grin.
“Looks in pretty good shape to me”, Flak added after a while.
“It does. Let’s hope for the best.” Shrapnel then opened the door and climbed in, falling into the driver’s seat and taking a hold of the wheel with a manic grin.

“Say buddy”, Flak said after watching him. “Do you know how the fuck to drive one of them things?”
Shrapnel’s grin died out very slowly.

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