(Bit AU but the Plot bunny would not be sated with silence)
19. I'm 19, and I've been out of the Vault, for 19 days, incidentally I've 19 Rounds left for the shitty assault Rifle I'm forced to use while I do my best to quick patch this 10mm pistol with a corroded slide not a hard job really I've 8 others in my bag or at least the parts to make them, and there was one that had to have recently been cleaned. before I offed the Raider stupid enough to shoot at the pissed off guy with glowing eyes. I probably shouldn't have broke that one down all things considered but I refuse on grounds of mild insanity to breakdown the Pistol Amata handed me to break out of the vault...fucking sentimentality. Mind it looked like it had been hers the grip had Her Name engraved on one side, I love that name, it's distinctly hers. and on the other the Cogged 101 vault door on the other, I reiterate. fucking sentimentality.
so here I am in a decrepit ticket booth waiting for another feral ghoul to charge me while I work. thus the pile of crap masquerading as an assault rifle I've been forced to shoot 15 or 16 ghouls with. Not fun. it's tense enough with out the Vault enforced Edict memory reminding me that at any point the rifle I'm currently keeping held together with naught but prayers and bits of string could blow up in my face.
FUCKING YES. the pistol's good as new. With a new slide. and for good measure a replaced firing pin, Spring, and feed mechanism. Thus it was that I Jimmy Tennant Repairer of Sentimental tools of Chaos death and Discord, stepped out of my decrepit Ticket booth, into total and utter silence. the only sound that could be heard was my rather irritated huff.