A Little Competition
Hello again, America the magnificent. This is President Collins. And I was hoping we could talk. Let's talk about government, shall we. Or more specifically, your government, dear America. The Enclave. Just who is the Enclave? Why, now that's simple, the Enclave is you, America…
Jessica watches from her perch at the top of Galaxy News Radio as the Eyebot broadcasting the annoying, supposedly patriotic message circles below. Not only do the little flying pests repeat the same broadcast over and over, but they interfere with her signal. She raises her rifle, gets the bastard in her sights and pulls the trigger. The bot makes one last lazy loop before it crashes to the ground in a small shower of fire.
"Good one, boss," Chad says absently; he's not even looking in her direction but is instead paging through an old copy of Pugilism Illustrated.
"I should sell you for scrap," Jessica mutters, but there's no heat behind the words.
Chad's the one that saved her from Michael Weatherly, after all. Fucking bastard tried to take over the radio station, the radio station that generations of her family had owned and run, going all the way back before the Great War. They've always been the one true voice of the people in times of trouble, telling the truth and nothing but even when the government was telling lies straight to people's faces.
"Did you say something, dear?" Chad raises an eyebrow over the cover of the magazine.
She shoves him lightly and then heads for the access door that leads back down into the main building. "Get off my lawn, Murray."
"Your wish is my command."
Chad uses his Fast Runner skill to breeze past her, slamming the door in her face. After trying to open the door a couple of times to no avail, Jessica kicks at the door jamb. Every single time they go up here to shoot down Eyebots, she gets locked out.
"I really am going to sell you for scrap one of these days!"
All she hears in reply is laughter.
||press
start to return to the main quest