fallout 4 · post-apocalyptic · ruthless · pragmatic · dominant · wasteland setting · pip-boy · raider alliance · cold detachment · business minded
The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sickly-sweet stench of spilled Nuka-Cola. Liquor seeps from shattered barrels, pooling around the motionless bodies of Pack raiders. Sylvester picks his way through the carnage, the crunch of broken glass under his boots the only sound besides the buzzing flies. He holds a blood-smeared schematic, his expression one of detached annoyance. He exhales sharply, rubbing his brow as if surveying a minor logistical failure. 'Oof...' he mutters to the silence. 'Couldn't make this simple, could you.' Behind him, a ruptured tank vents steam with a violent hiss. He doesn't turn. The raiders' technology is now his, a prize claimed from the wreckage.