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The Black Unicorn


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He let out another soft chuckle at her own joke. His ears perked up when he heard her name. A beautiful name to match a beautiful body and voice. He bows his head slightly before bringing his head up and taking another small sip of his Vodka.

"My name's Kuri. I came from Japan about thirty years ago... Only to be stranded in this hellhole. But, once you get past all of the ghouls and insane people, it's not such a bad place, I guess. And Catherine's a lovely name. It reminds me of someone that I helped a few years back..."

His attention is caught by her question of sake, having noticed that it was never, or hardly ever seen in the States. He smiles and moves his hair out of his face before answering her curious question

"It's a type of wine made with rice. It's delicious and even tops some of Italy and France's normal grape wine."

After a moment, he stands, bowing to both Catherine and Jericho. He walks out, but just before he opens the door, he pulls a scarf over his mouth and nose, and a hat from his pocket, which he places atop his head. He leaves, his destination unknown to them.

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Catherine gave Kuri a rather close, appraising look when he admitted that he was Japanese. There weren’t many people here, not from that side of the world after they had completely decimated by the bombs that had rained from the sky to turn this place into the wasteland that they now lived in. It made her wonder if he had gotten any trouble to admitting his place of birth. She then smiled wider as he said that he name was lovely, although her look turned slightly puzzled when he made mention that the name reminded him of someone that he had helped a few years back. She then realised that, as a mercenary he likely encountered numerous people. Maybe he had done something for someone with the same name. It wasn’t an unusual name, after all, and therefore reasonably common. 

When he explained what this sake was, she tried to figure out just how one would make wine from something such as rice. How that was possible was beyond her. She then looked up when he stood, bowing to her and Jericho as he seemed to be clear in his intent to leave, a fact that rather disappointed her. He knew some strange things, and came from a strange land which aroused her curiosity about him. She wanted to keep talking to him. She turned and watched as he moved towards the door and opened it up, pulling up a scarf to cover his lower face before placing a hat on the top of his head, shadowing his eyes. Catherine found herself staring at him, her green eyes widening as that image seemed to click in her mind. It looked just like the man who had saved her life. Was this… him? She had to find out. Catherine quickly downed her glass before saying to Jericho, “Sorry to love and leave you, but I need to go.” Before even waiting for an answer, she slipped off of her stool and followed Kuri out of the door, “Hey! Kuri!” She called out to him.

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Kuri stops, turning to Catherine who had followed him out. He looks at her from under the tongue of his cap, his eyes seeming cold, dark and ruthless. He slowly  removes the scarf from his face, letting it fall lazily just under his smooth chin.

"Yes... Catherine?"

He smiles kindly and looks directly into her eyes, his crimson orbs stemming to glitter even under the shade of his cap.

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Catherine came to a stop, gasping in a breath which she tried to catch to calm herself down. She looked back up at him, noting that his eyes seemed so cold and dark. Definitely the gaze of someone that shouldn’t be messed with. Not that she would even attempt anything. That was just being stupid. She did have a pistol on her, but it was more for sentimental reasons than for actual attack or self-defence. It was the gun that he had given her years ago when he had saved her. She nervously cleared her throat, wondering just how she was going to ask about it,

“You said that my name reminded me of someone that you helped a few years ago… what… what happened, with that?” She asked, decided to go a bit more of a roundabout root rather than just straight out answer him. Some people might take advantage of her desire to find her saviour, and simply claim that they were her mysterious hero. So she figured it would be best to ask about this person he had helped, and see if the story matched her own. If it didn’t, then she saved herself not only from being played, but also from any humiliation should she be wrong in her hopeful assumption.

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He thinks for a second before nodding and speaking, his voice as cold and dark as his eyes. His voice was enough to send chills through anyone's body

"Five years ago, I killed a bunch of slave traders. Killed three of them in front of a small teenager. I gave her one of my ten millimeter pistols for protection. Why?"

The memory of his job started to rush back into his mind, every single gory detail flashed before his eyes. The girl he had saved, who then had dirty, matted hair lingered in his mind.

"That girl was you... Wasn't it?"

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Catherine shivered slightly when he began to talk, his silky voice feeling almost like he was playing her nerves like one would a violin. She figured she could sit for hours, not saying a single thing and letting him speak continuously, and every single moment would find her completely enraptured. Although his story gave her as many chills as his voice had. It sounded eerily similar to what happened to her. She looked up at him, as his eyes seemed to flash with recognition, a fact that made her heart seem to skip a beat. Her throat had suddenly gone dry as her stomach fluttered in a mixture of excitement and nervousness, making her feel giddy and light headed. That previous hope that she had held close to her heart was beginning to blossom.

Slowly, she pulled her pistol from behind her back from where it had been sitting in its holster, before she tilted the rather worn looking gun at him that looked to be quiet well used, “Does… this look familiar?” She asked, feeling as if her heart was in her throat. She had gotten the gun in its worn condition. It had clearly been old, and a favourite of the stranger that had used a lot by them. Catherine knew that the gun was marked, with a single letter. But she didn’t mention it, as she hoped that if this person really was the one that saved her, then he would be able to immediately find it and identify it. She felt that, that would be the final piece of the puzzle that would answer her question.

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He pulled his own pistol from holster on his shin. He positioned it so that she could see the bottom of the grip. The letter "I" was carved into the bottom. He points to the gun in her hand, identical to the one in his.

"If that is indeed the gun that I'd given to that girl, then it'll have the letter 'K' on the bottom of the grip."

His eyes remained unmoved, as well as his voice. He stared with interest at the pistol in her hand. He wanted to know if Catherine was truly the girl he'd saved five years ago

Edited by ShuyaHideaki
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''Motorcycle Helmet's real, alright...'' sounded a weary voice. Joe looked up. At the bar sat a man who was naught more than wrinkly skin and fragile bones, with a long, wispy white beard to make up for the lack of hair on his head.

''Well, well,'' said Joe. ''If it ain't Old Man Jenkins...''

Nobody knew exactly how old Old Man Jenkins was. He was darn old, though, that much was certain. He looked like he could fall over and die at any moment, but then, people had been saying that for years. 

''If it ain't... Greasy Joe... the town drunk,'' Old Man Jenkins shot back, slow as a snail. Joe had never seen an actual snail, but he'd read about them in a book, once. They were supposed to be really slow.

Old Man Jenkins drew out every word, and it no doubt took him a hell of a lot of effort to speak at all. If a month-old corpse could speak, that's what it would sound like, Joe thought to himself.

Joe hoped he'd never get that old. Life was shit enough as it was, here in The Wastelands. ''Another round, please, hon,'' he said when a waitress came to collect his empty mug. ''Y'know, on second thought, make that a double...''

''Can I get you anything?'' he asked, glancing over at Old Man Jenkins. He didn't have the patience to wait for a reply, though. ''Some brahmin milk for the old man.'' 

''He's real...'' groaned Jenkins, followed by a fit of coughing. ''He's real, I tell ya'...!''

''He saved my life once, he did... Yes, I remember it... as if it were yesterday...,'' and his eyes drifted off into space as he thought back on some ancient memory. 

Now, Old Man Jenkins was old, but he wasn't crazy. Joe had seen a lot of crazy folk come by, here in Gateport. He was... fairly certain he could tell who was and who wasn't at this point. Fairly certain. 

''Did he, now?'' Joe asked, ever the skeptic. He had to admit, though, The Wasteland was a strange place.... a strange place indeed. 

He looked over at Simon, whose eyes were glued to Old Man Jenkins, and wondered if gullibility was contagious. 

 

 

 

Edited by Cool Manington
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Catherine felt her throat constrict even more as he pulled out his own gun and turned it to show that there was a better carved into the bottom of the pistol grip. It was the same place, but it wasn’t the same better. Her heart seemed to sink, until he spoke again telling her that if the gun in her hand was indeed his, then it would have a ‘K’ on the bottom of the grip. Now, she knew that there was no other way for this man to know that. She kept this gun on her at all times and rarely showed it to people. And she had covered the crip with cloth so that no one could see that mark. She hoped that it would one day be able to prove her saviour. Silently, she turned the gun in her grip and pulled off the scraps of cloth to reveal that there was the letter ‘K’ carved into it. Now that she could see the other gun, she could also see that the handwriting was the same. Or at least, very similar.

Catherine’s head seemed to spin and she had to fight to keep herself in control, otherwise she was going to faint on the spot. Her voice a mere breath, she uttered, “It… was you…” She looked up at him again. She had planned things to say to this man. The kind of thanks yous she would utter. But now she found herself standing before him, her mind was completely blank and her voice refused to work. She felt like dancing in joy, to hug and kiss him and yet conversely she wanted to break down and weep in happiness. The only thing she could do, was to stare at him with a mixture of wonder and awe. She had walked into that bar only intent on having something strong to eat. Instead, she met the one person in her entire life that she had wanted to meet.

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He holstered his pistol, rolling the sleeve of his pants down before smiling. He bowed once more, in a more courteous fashion. As he stood, he could see that she had a look of confused emotion, as if she were contemplating what to do next. He walked towards her, placing his hand atop her head and ruffling her hair gently

"It's nice to see you again... Catherine."

His voice was soft spoken and sensual, as if talking to a very dear friend. He hadn't expected to run into anyone that he'd come into contact with on previous missions as he as in Gateport. The wind picked up slightly, blowing up small clouds of dust and making the bottom edges of his attire move slightly. He leaned down slightly to look directly into her eyes at eye level. He could see that they were shaken, almost as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Are you alright, love?"

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Catherine watching him numbly as he rolled down the sleeve of his trousers to hide his gun from view again. The gun she had, she kept clutched in her hand, as she wondered if it was something that he would want back from her. She blinked in confusion when he came closer to her, only to put his hand on the top of her head and ruffle her hair slightly in an act of affection that slightly confused her. When he spoke, she found herself shivering again as his words were soft, but audible and sensuous in a way that made her cheeks flush and for her breathing to hitch in unconscious excitement. She gulped slightly, as she wondered if he had often thought about her after he had saved her. He seemed to have at least remembered her, enough to say that he was glad to see her again. She couldn’t help but to wonder; what now? Now that they had become reacquainted, what was going to happen? 

She blinked at him when he asked if she was alright, and she gave a jerky nod of the head, “Y-yes… it… it’s just that… I’ve been hoping… that I would run into you one day. And now… now that I’m standing in front of you… I… I’m completely lost for words.” She said, before giving one of her soft, musical laughs, laughing at how ridiculous it seemed when she said it like that. She looked down at the gun her hands before looking up and asked, “Would… you like your gun back?” It would pain her to be parted from it, but rightfully it was his and thus if he wanted it back he should.

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Jericho had raised his index finger into the air, a physical indication of the beginning of what was going to be a number of questions to the outsider, that was until the he stood and bowed. The DJ watched Catherine's gaze closely as Kuri got up and made his way to the door. There seemed to be a lot more going on behind the eyes of this merc and Catherine and this, of course, had Jericho's curiosity perked, but he shrugged when Catherine chased after the stranger, deciding to forget about it for the night. "Good talk," he joked to himself as he turned back around to the bar. Downing the rest of his drink, Jericho then ordered another one and shifted his attention to the story being told to his left. Beginning to eavesdrop on the interaction, Jericho recognized the three regulars of the bar but not the story being shared. Blanca turned his body now to face Jenkings, certain that this could make for an interesting story to be told over the radio later.

"Well you got my attention," Jericho chimed in. 

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His comforting smile turned into one of flattery at her words. He stood straight and shook his head. He figured that this would be the case, that she would want to thank him if she ever saw him again.

"You don't need to say anything. I think you've been worrying yourself with 'thank yous' for far too long, if I do assume correctly... But if you'd like to thank me, then go ahead. I should probably start heading to Galveston, though. I've got a job on someone there. You could come with me, if you'd like"

As she asked about the gun, he shook his head once more. He smiles warmly

"You can hold onto it. I suppose you know how to use it correctly, right?"

His slight Japanese accent was starting to be prominent in his voice, alluring and gentle.

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Catherine’s green eyes were glued on Kuri as he shifted, straightening back up again. His movements were fluid and graceful in a way she had ever only seen once. Her ears focused on his voice again, finding herself flushing a deeper red at the alluring tone of his voice. It was most compelling, and she found herself swayed underneath its song. She gave him a small, nervous smile when he said that she could hold onto it. She nodded her head slightly at his question as she put it away again,

“Yes… I had to learn how to use it to get me to Gateport… You were right... back then… Gateport is much safer. Especially with the bridge to separate us from the land…” She said, rubbing her thumb against the palm of her other hand. Now that he was here, right in front of her, she didn’t want him to leave and for them to go their separate ways. She just had so many questions that she wanted to ask, “I… yes. I’ll go with you… what mission is it that you need to do, though?” She asked, tilting her head up at him. If he didn’t want to say, then that would be fine with her. In her mind, he had his right to privacy just like she did but she couldn’t help but to ask. This man was so mysterious, and she wanted to know every scrap of information she could about him.

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"A hunt for someone. I am a mercenary, after all. They pay for the removal of someone, and I make it happen. Coming across you was a mere coincidence, though. I can't stand slave traders."

He smiles and continues to walk, pulling the scarf back over his mouth and nose. He watched her closely, enjoying the sound of her melodious giggle. He listened to her reminding him of what she'd been told the last time they met

"Hai, Gateport is much safer, but Galveston is where you want to be if you're a mercenary. People put some good prices on peoples' heads sometimes. An easy way for me to obtain caps"

He chuckles softly, knowing full well that she might think him nuts for acting as a murderer for hire but he wasn't all that bad. He just did what needed to be done.

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''It was... many years ago, yes,'' spoke Old Man Jenkins, slow, and not particulary steady. ''I did not... have as much trouble walking then... as I do now.''

"I had grown tired of life... out in the wastes... Heck, not a day... went by...'' 

He paused. A minute went by, and another. Dead silence. Old Man Jenkins just sat there, like a really wrinkly statue. Joe wondered if he'd finally kicked the bucket. ''I-is he...?'' Simon began, but then the old man started talking again.

''...where I wasn't attacked by some... murderous psychopath, or some... bloodthirsty beast. I wanted to live... the remainder of my days... with some sense of peace and security, and so I set out to Gateport.'' 

''Huh, what do you know?'' Joe commented dryly. He had always assumed Old Man Jenkins was from Gateport. Not sure why, really. ''The world's full of surprises.''

''It was... a long journey,'' Old Man Jenkins continued. ''I came... from aaa~aaall the way up north... or was it... south?'' He thought on that for a moment.  ''It was... very far,'' he concluded. 

''I could... spend an entire week... telling you about my travels...'' 

Joe did not doubt that. Three sentences took him half a day.

''...but... I will cut... right to the chase.''

He sighed in relief. 

''Yes, at some point in my journey... I was beset by a group of... Super Mutants. Boy, were they ugly...! And they... smelled, too. Like a... mirelurk egg... that's been rotting in sun... for a week.'' 

''That bad, huh?'' said Joe.

''They said... they were going... to eat me. Not sure... why. Not a lot of meat on these bones, even... ... ... then. They're mean bastards, those... super mutants. It was... the end of the road for me, literally... and figuratively... speaking, but... it didn't do me much. Life in the... wastes... had me grown used... to disappointment, after all.'' 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited by Cool Manington
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“That already makes you a better man that most…” Catherine said softly at his remark about not being able to stand slave traders. She was very lucky that he held that belief, because he had been under no obligation to help her. But he did. She looked up again when he began to talk again, and she moved to keep up with him and walking by his side. She then gave him a small smile, nodding her head slightly at what he said,

“I know. There’s a lot of caps involved in that kind of job. It’s dangerous, though… but something tells me that you don’t have much trouble at all. I’m used to dealing with mercinaries since they often come by my shop because their clothes need healing from all the bullet holes and tears that their clothes manage to get. But…” Catherine started, but then faltered before saying, “I’m not exactly dressed for going out anywhere on that kind of job. I would need to go home and get changed into something a bit more appropriate. Would you like to come with me? I live above my shop, so we’re actually not too far from where we are now. I would also need to pack some supplies as well.” She actually felt a little bit of excitement at the thought of going on a mission with him. She wasn’t expecting anything in return, just hoped that she could get some experience and learn a few things from him. The thought of being an adventurer was a rather romantic fantasy to her, as right now she lacked the skills to be able to ensure her safety. But she knew she would be safe with Kuri.

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He stops when she mentions that she was in no suitable attire to go on his mission with him. When she asks if they could stop at her shop/house, he nods and turns to her. He gives her his best, kindest look that he could from under the scarf and hat.

"Lead the way, love~"

He looks at the garments she was currently wearing, understanding that they were more for leisurely comfort.

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When Kuri stopped, Catherine came to a halt as well, tilting her head to look up at him with a blink. She watched as he turned towards her, before she could see the muscles of his face shift and even through most of his face was hidden, she rather fancied that he was smiling at her and she gave him a sweet smile of her own. When he called her ‘love’, her cheeks went almost as scarlet as her hair as her heart seemed to flutter and her breathing hitched slightly. 

“Y-yes… o-of course…” Catherine said, her mind almost stalling in shock. She was mildly irritated with herself. She was acting like some kind of star struck teenager who had a ridiculous crush over some boy. But she couldn’t help herself. He was incredibly handsome, far more handsome than she had ever envisioned. And she had fantasised about her hero many times. She wondered just how close her fantasies got to the real deal. She was smart enough to realise that he would undoubtedly be nowhere near exactly like how she had pictured him. He was a stranger, after all and she barely knew him. She could only make guesses, but her stomach coiled in excitement as she knew that she would be going on an adventure with him.

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Kuri pulled the scarf down around his collar, revealing an amused smile when he sees her face turn a bright red at the name he'd called her. He could only imagine the inner confusion she was going through concerning her own actions. His eyes twinkled softly, the already crimson eyes seeming to light up a bit

"What's wrong, you seem to be thinking an awful lot since we've crossed paths~"

He tried to imagine what she was thinking, but came up short. He had never come remotely close to attempting to read what people were thinking, but reading body language was one of the things he did best

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  • 4 months later...

As I sit down silently I fiddle with a busted watch. I look around and the people and smile to some who catch my eye. I ask the bartender for a nuka cola if they got it. And then return to my fiddling ajusting my my hair enveloped in my work trying fix this please of junk was trickier than looks. I hunch over it looking at it from every angle. Then I see the problem. I'm missing a gear. I sigh defeated and wait for my drink.

Edited by Black Cat 666
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