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Crossover: Fallout/MOVIE OF YOUR CHOICE
Date: 2011-12-09 12:20 pm (UTC)Any characters or pairings; smutt, fluff, crack, angst, Fallout 1, 2, 3 or New Vegas... ANYTHING GOES, Anons!
Re: Crossover: Fallout/MOVIE OF YOUR CHOICE
Date: 2012-01-04 09:37 am (UTC)OP-Fill: Crossover Fallout 3 / The Blues Brothers – The Junk Brothers 1a/?
Date: 2012-01-18 11:12 am (UTC)Tags: Gen, Crossover
Summary: Flak ‘n’ Shrapnel. They're back. The most dangerous combination since nitro and glycerine.
And they'll never get caught.They're on a mission from... the Chief.
---------oXo---------
To say Flak and Shrapnel were surprised when Chief Harkness took them aside one day after closing down their stall for the day would be mildly understated. Especially since the Chief mentioned needing their help.
They followed him out of the Marketplace, through the door that led only to a little dead-end corridor on the side of the ship ending in a sheer drop of twenty yards or so above the waterline, a place where eavesdroppers would be very unlikely.
“What is it we can help you with, Chief?”, Flak asked after lighting up his smoke.
Harkness seemed unsure of how to reply, and his left eyelid twitched as if he had a tic. He finally seemed to have made up his mind and looked first at him, then at Shrapnel. “First of all, I need your word that whatever you hear tonight must remain between the three of us. Absolutely no one else must know this.”
Shrapnel lifted his eyebrows but nodded. “Of course.”
“Do I have your word?”
The two weapon dealers exchanged a glance.
“Yes”, Shrapnel said, and Flak added: “Sure thing, Chief.”
“Good.” Harkness’ eyelid twitched again. “The thing is, what I got to tell you is probably hard to swallow. I found it unbelievable at first and even though I have proof of it it’s still...” He sighed. “Well, no use in beating about the bush.”
Shrapnel took a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket, pulled one out and put it between his lips while watching Harkness.
“You heard of Zimmer and that escaped android?”
Both of them nodded while Shrapnel took out his lighter.
“And that the Vault kid sent Zimmer off, making him believe the android was dead?”
Shrapnel paused in what he was doing. “Making him believe?”
Harkness smiled a little uncomfortably. “Indeed. You see, the android had his memories replaced and underwent facial surgery to escape the slavery of the Commonwealth.”
“Understandably”, Shrapnel said and switched his lighter on.
“So anyway, the Vault kid found that out and thought that the android needed his memory back to be able to protect himself. So she found out the activation code and did just that.”
Flak gave the security chief a long, thoughtful stare. “Is it by chance someone we know, that android?”
Harkness smiled thinly at them. “It is by chance someone whom you are talking to right now.”
Shrapnel dropped the lighter; it slid along the metal floor, tilted over the edge and vanished despite his best efforts to catch it again. With a muffled curse Shrapnel leaned forward only to hear the faintest splash twenty five yards below as the lighter vanished forever out of his reach. He then slowly turned around, cigarette still unlit, and stared at the security chief again whose left eyelid twitched for the third time.
After rallying himself Flak took a breath and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, frowning. “You’re the android, Chief?”
“Believe it or not.”
“I must say I tend to ‘or not’, Chief.”
Harkness smiled and pointed at the pistol at Flak’s belt. “Shoot me.”
“What?”
“Come on. Shoot me. I’ve got to proof this to you. Shoot me.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“Come on, Flak. If I ain’t the android then I deserve it for shitting you. If I am, you won’t be able to hurt me.”
Flak shook his head but hesitatingly unholsterd his gun and aimed it at Harkness’ head. “You sure, chief?”
Harkness nodded. “Absolutely.”
The Junk Brothers 1b/?
Date: 2012-01-18 11:13 am (UTC)“Right”, Flak said after a minute of staring. “Right.” He holstered his gun again and continued smoking with a slightly unsteady hand. “You’re the android, then. But what the fuck would you need our help for?”
Harkness’ eyelid twitched again; it was an unnerving sight, especially when you knew he was a machine. It seemed totally out of place. “I’m suffering from a slight system malfunction”, he said then. “Right now it’s just a minor circuit module, but my system self diagnosis routine indicates resulting strains on other neural ZS8a,d and m spinal sub-components outside manufacturers specifications that will lead to thermal impairments of low-base beta5 servos...”, his eyelid twitched, “...terminating operability.” He looked at their blank faces and worded the next sentence very slowly and carefully. “I need a spare part.”
Flak rallied first and lifted one eyebrow. “You don’t find spare android parts lying around in our shop, Chief.”
Harkness smiled unhappily. “You don’t find spare android parts in the whole Capital Wasteland, Flak. And with Pinkerton dead, not that it was a surprise at his age, but still, with him dead, there is no one who could fix the part that is damaged. So someone has to find me a spare part. But the only place to get them is where they came from.”
“Looks like you’re up shit creek then, chief”, Flak said.
“Right”, Harkness said. “I guess you understand why I can’t go there myself. If anyone finds out who and what I am, all they need is to yell a combination of letters and numbers at me to reset my factory settings, and Harkness will be history. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Flak and Shrapnel looked at each other, understanding slowly dawning in their eyes.
“Why us, though, Chief?”, Shrapnel asked.
Harkness blinked in the attempt of suppressing the tic, with no success. “Because I need someone who has not only Wasteland survival experience but also some sort of technical knowledge. And last but not least it’s a dangerous mission, and requires abilities to deal with every kind of danger, as well as the ruthlessness to do what’s necessary regardless of what.”
“I see”, Flak said slowly. Harkness knew about them, of course. Reformed and forgiven, but now their past seemed to come in handy.
“I don’t have anything to offer as a reward, just bear in mind that without me, Rivet City is without a leader and a security Chief. How long do you think Bannon and Seagraves could keep the council running and the defences active and effective?”
For the third time the two friends exchanged a glance and while Shrapnel shrugged, Flak nodded and looked at the Chief again. “Right”, he said. “You got a deal, Chief.”
Harkness visibly sagged with relief. “I was hoping I could count on you.”
“But”, Shrapnel fell in. “What do we need? And how do we know it when we see it?”
Harkness smiled a little crookedly. “What you need is a 6.6-core-voltage nano-hydraulic circuit servo-module in an A20 casing.”
This was met by two blank stares out of two frozen faces.
“Technically”, Harkness ventured, “...technically it’s... a thingy.”
Flak blinked. Shrapnel tilted his head.
The Junk Brothers 1c/?
Date: 2012-01-18 11:14 am (UTC)“Got you, Chief”, Flak replied and looked at his friend. “I guess we get down to planning right away. How much time do we have before things go pear-shaped with your... circuit... thingy?”
“A couple of weeks at least”, the Chief replied.
Shrapnel shook his head. “That’s not good enough”, he said thoughtfully. “We’ll never make it into the commonwealth and back again within a couple of weeks. We’d need a vertibird for that.”
Flak dropped his butt end and ground it out with the sole of his boot. “Any ideas?”
“I know vertibirds are impossible”, Shrapnel said slowly, tapping his cheek. “But what about...” He looked at Flak again. “What about we find a ground vehicle and get it going again?”
Flak crossed his arms. “A car? Want to drive through the whole wasteland in one of them cars? They explode when you sneeze at them, buddy.”
Shrapnel shook his head. “Not that kind of car, obviously. We need something sturdy, some old military vehicle...”
They shared a thoughtful stare. “Wheaton?”, Flak asked.
Shrapnel shrugged. “Best bet, I think.”
Harkness nodded. “I’ll talk to the next caravan coming through. There has to be some sort of solution we can work out with them to find what you need.”
The two weapon dealers nodded.
“There’s no guarantee we’ll get it working again, though, Chief”, Shrapnel said then.
Harkness shrugged and his eyelid twitched twice. “I know. We have to try though.”
Flak and Shrapnel nodded again.
“I’ll have to leave the details to you two”, Harkness said then and rubbed his left eye. “I’ll help you in any way I can, just keep it discreet.” He gave both of them a nod and vanished through the door.
Flak and Shrapnel stared at each other.
“We’re up to this, man?”, Shrapnel finally asked.
Flak shrugged. “If we wanna keep on living here we’d best. No use in letting Bannon run the place.”
“That fruitcake?” Shrapnel snorted in distaste. “No way.”
“So what do we need first?”
Shrapnel looked wistfully at his still un-lit cigarette. “I need a fucking lighter.”
x-x-x-x-x-x
Re: The Junk Brothers 1c/?
Date: 2012-01-26 12:38 am (UTC)The Junk Brothers 2a/?
Date: 2012-01-26 11:39 am (UTC)Harkness stood on the bridge and watched them go, his eyelid twitching as he pressed his lips tightly together. He took up his post again as he watched them disappear behind the rubble, weapon at the ready and analysing the chances of their success. He didn’t have enough data input on spare parts, repair skills and the possibilities of there being a salvageable car at all to do an exact calculation, but even with the most optimistic assumptions their chances were below 27.3%.
The first thing they had to deal with upon reaching the armoury was the motherfucking robots still guarding the place. The second thing was catching Elsa again who had bolted, screaming both her heads off after her flank had been grazed by a laser, and was now nowhere to be seen. They had to follow the trail of junk and other bits and pieces she had been strewing in best Hansel and Gretel fashion and found the poor creature huddled against a broken wall with her eyes wide and almost completely white, frothing at the mouths while swinging her heads back and forth. She stumbled away when Wolfgang tried to walk up to her.
“Elsaa”, he cooed. “Elsa, darling.”
Elsa mooed and bolted again.
“Get her!!” Wolfgang set off after her in a sprint. “Cut her off!”
Fanning out, the other three men tried to encircle the panicked animal who, now completely out of her fucking tree, galloped as fast as she could, strewing plates, cutlery and empty glass bottles all over the place. One of the packs on her back came loose, fell to the ground and burst with a cascade of billiard balls regorging out of the torn fabric. Failing to sidestep them, George stumbled, slipped and skidded in an astonishing display of tap-dancing skills before he finally fell and landed flat on his backside with a stream of very foul and very heartfelt curses.
Wolfgang had, in the meantime, followed Elsa and was trying to get a grip onto her halter while Flak and Shrapnel had sped past her and were yelling and waving their arms to make her turn around so Wolfgang could get close enough.
“Stop screaming!”, Wolfgang screamed and , even more spooked now, Elsa bellowed and lashed out a kick with her hind legs.
Both Flak and Shrapnel froze on the spot when Wolfgang slowly toppled to his knees, with the only sound escaping him a breathless, tortured wheeze as he slowly doubled over and gingerly pressed both hands onto his crotch. Thus having enforced a hold-up of her pursuers, Elsa took her chance, gathered speed and, rounding a heap of rubble, was out of sight again in an instant.
Still wheezing, Wolfgang stumbled onto his feet again. “After her”, he gasped out and set off again, slightly baker-legged for the first couple of steps. Flak and Shrapnel followed but refrained from any more shouting.
The Junk Brothers 2b/?
Date: 2012-01-26 11:40 am (UTC)“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/?
Date: 2012-01-26 11:41 am (UTC)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/?
Date: 2012-01-26 11:43 am (UTC)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.
x-x-x-x-x-x