Plink

Wastelander

An Interview with a Marksman

The holotape clacks into the terminal and recedes inside. The screen flickers to life, a woman's voice speaking first.
“I: Why don’t you start by saying your name and age?”
”Plink- not really sure how old I am. Maybe like, twenty-seven?”
“I: Don’t have a real name?”
”None worth mentioning.”
“I: How’d you come up with that?”
”Guys in the Merc' company came up with it.”
“I: I don’t get it. Plink. Is it because you're short?”
There was an extended period of silence before the man spoke again.
”Plink is the sound a target makes when you shoot it.”
"I: ...but why would it be your alias?"
"I don't miss."
The chair screeched against the floor as the woman presumably scooted back, clearing her throat. The brushing of some fabric could be heard in silence. A pen clicked, then the scribbling of ink on paper came through.
“I: We’ve come to known you’ve serv-"
”Next question.”
“I: Is it true you’re an orphan?”
”Yeah, if you consider someone who was adopted an orphan.”
“I: Who adopted you?”
”Tribe of Nomads. Traveled like the caravans. Think like that.”
"I: What were they called?"
"Don't matter. You won't ever meet 'em."
“I: How long were you with the tribe before you joined the mercenary company "The Red Hand?"
”I was probably... sixteen when I signed the contract? So- between baby-me to sixteen. They took me under their wing when I was shitting diapers, spent a lot of my life moving.”
"I: You joined a Mercenary Company at sixteen?"
"I was going through some things as a kid, had to make money somehow to feed myself."
“I: Who trained you to shoot?”
”Man named Percy helped me fine tune my profession. We called him Reloads. Trained in unarmed and bladed CQC as well."
"I: Why was this Percy called Reloads?"
"Guy dropped bodies in record time... always fuckin' reloading."
"I: Is it true that you exercise frequently?"
”I keep up with my Calisthenics in my free time- AKA when I'm not shooting or selling things. Yoga every morning- good meditation tool."
"I: So you're quite flexible, is that it?"
"Wouldn't you like to find out?"
“I: Anything else you wish to add?”
There was a few seconds of silence.
”Wanna’ bang?”*
-The holotape ends after a brief scuffling of papers-

[S.P.E.C.I.A.L.]

Strength: 7
Perception: 8
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 2
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 10
Luck: 3

Plink’s time doing calisthenics, cardio and yoga have paid off. From these two things combined, he has brought himself into great physical condition. Stretching every morning to keep himself limber. He’s learned to fight dirty from dealing with bigger threats all of his life, he’s learned to adapt. He’s rather proud of his perceptive eyes, harnessed by the Nomads in his youth while learning to hunt. Meanwhile, his tendency to be a loner has made it hard for him to communicate with others. Folk often get confused by his sentence structure or word choice, his voice likely to make someone fall over dead after a few hours of paranoia filled ranting.

[RELATIONS]

Written in Purple Crayon

"Whitt: He's like a brother to me. I'd die for this man. We had a shaky start, but I'm not really good at first impressions. Went through a lot in the short amount of time since we've met. He's solid."

"Harp': Like the little sister I always wanted- except I'm like her uncle since Whitt's my brother. Whatever. We're best buds. Can't let nothing happen to her... not again. That shit was bad."

"Alex - Nuka hotty: Sorry."

"Lee: Whitt's guy. Solid. Techy. Always need a dude like that to be real diverse group, you know? Like the staple. I learned that word the other day. Anyways- he doesn't say much, listens well, smart guy. He's cool."

"Kelvin: That's my homie! Met him back in Arizona, right before we tucked our tails between our legs and ran from the Legion. We go back- way back. Sort of. He's known me the longest- and he don't judge me. At least to my face."

"Coraline ✝- Fuck. What can I say? Nothing's gonna' fix what happened. I fucked up, plain as. You were a bit odd, but no one else takes the time to sit down and get to know the man behind the counter. Pester him to open up. For that, I thank you. And if there is a life after death, don't hate me. But if you do, I understand. I didn't want this to happen."

"Tyler ✝- Cold, calculated, indifferent. A reminder of what I would've become if I stayed around too long in the shit... Couldn't help myself. I'm a danger magnet, and God knows I have a problem for sleeping with murderers. Don't know what you thought was going to happen, but I know why. She was a problem, just could've been handled differently. Maybe you'll find some peace, now."

"Cal'- Don't know much about her except what I've seen. I shot her old employer dead, she shot me three times, I shot her in the shoulder... A great start to a friendship, if you ask me. Nothing like bonding with someone on the surface while having to bunk next to them in the clinic. Cowgirl broke five of my fucking ribs..."

Word.