The Acquisitionist guide

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Wifi
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The Acquisitionist guide

Post by Wifi »

How to be an Acquisitionist
(And live to tell about it)


By Wifi


The way of the thief…

My father used to say: “If you can’t buy it, steal it!� I believed him, my brothers believed him, but most importantly, the town judge didn’t believe him. After the funeral, if by funeral you mean throwing a hanged man into the gutter, me and my brothers were divided. Heads and Tails were given to the people our father robbed as a compensation, and Tie had enough brains to get the fuck out of town. As for me, I was sold to a trader that was in town that day. I would have ended up on the grain sweat-farms of Sunny Dunes if the kind trader didn’t offer five caps more for my sorry ass.

The way of the trader…

The trader used to say: “If you can’t sell it, screw it!� It was a good way of living if you’re in the slave business, but a lousy way if you deal with antique artifacts from the Before Days. The only kind of people who would buy that sort of junk were tribals, even the cannibal ones. The trader learned that fact the hard way, which leads from the mouth and all the way to the rectum of a cannibal. I was to be eaten next, but a gang of Raiders showed up doing what they do best.

The way of the gun…

The Raiders used to say: “if you can kill it, kill it!� You get rich pretty quick with that philosophy, but the drawback is that no one wants to be you’re friend, not to mention the hazardous work environment you have to put up with. So the Raiders figured out that if they don’t find new blood once in a while, their wolf pack would fall apart in a matter of weeks. So the Raiders, known as the Triggers, were kind enough to let me join in and teach me their ways.

The way of the justice…

So there I was, rampaging and looting, drinking fresh blood from enemy skulls, proudly wearing the Trigger clan tattoo on my arm. I was about to loose the rest of my humanity I still had in me, but a Steel Brother crossed my path. After chopping up the entire Triggers clan in one burst, he turned his attention to me. Now you all thinking he took me by my hand and he showed me the enlightened path of law and justice. Wrong! His gun jammed, giving me time to flee. I thought that was justice enough.

The way of the luck…

What to do? I knew the ways of the thief, the trader and the killer. Choose life? This question haunted me for years, until one night, when I found shelter in some ruins near Geigertown. There I found a comic book about this hot chick with big tits that raids tombs for a living. She just talks with someone about what they need, and she goes and gets it, killing anyone that tries to stop her. A thief, a trader, a killer, a huge pair of juggs, all in one. That gave me an idea.

The way of the acquisitionist…

Hello there! I’m you’re friendly neighborhood Acquisitionist! What is an Acquisitionist, you ask? Well, I’ll be more than happy to explain!

Is you’re wife missing? Loose you’re keys? Did that darn water chip blow up again? Cast you’re worries aside and come and visit us here at the “Lost And Found� in the small and friendly town of Geigertown!

For a reasonable price we will help you acquire anything you’re hart desires, from lost kittens to wild Deathclaws! Why risk you’re life in the dangerous Wasteland? Our highly experienced staff is more than capable of taking on all the perils the Wasteland has to offer instead of you, for a reasonable price! Our motto is: “If you want it, we’ll get it! And you’ll pay it!�

Remember, the “Lost And Found� in Geigertown, just ask for Sniffy!

P.S. We cannot help you in case of lost lives and lost minds, so don’t even try.

First rule of being an acquisitionist: You must render yourself accessible to people that want you’re services.

How can people find you if they don’t know where the hell you are? I looked around Geigertown for a nice spot to open up my business, and I found the perfect place. It was a derelict house on Main Street, right between the shit shack and the Brahmin pens, a nice place if the wind is blowing in the right direction. It had a ghoul bum living in it, and I was about to kick his ass out, but he turned up to be more valuable than he looked and smelled.

Second rule of being an acquisitionist: Find an ally with expertise in information research and gathering.

Ghoul Sniffy The Snitch, that was his full name. The guy had the gift of finding out everything about everyone, but he didn’t know how to make a good living from it. He managed to stay alive by snitching people around town for some lousy caps, only to spend them on any intoxicating beverage he could find. I offered him a roof over his head, a dry bed and a decent pay in exchange for his services. He refused. Then I offered him to join me in exchange for a glass of recycled piss. He accepted. Now we needed some tools of the trade.

Third rule of being an acquisitionist: Good equipment equals long life in the Wasteland.

Me: We need a rope, three lockpics, five Stimpacs, one pack of Radaway and one of RadX, two metal armors, one shotgun with shells, one pistol and a couple of AP rounds, and that bucket of paint over there.

The Store Manager: All I got is this pipe rifle, three bullets, two bags of this smelly tribal medicine shit, one chewed RadX, a pair of hollow boots and that half empty can of paint.

Me: Deal.

Sniffy: Can I have this issue of Cats Paw?

Me: It’s the gay edition.

Sniffy: I’m not picky.

Me: Come on, we got a sign to write. “Lost And Found�, sounds cool, doesn’t it?

Sniffy: Sounds like an airport service to me, and I don’t even know what an airport is!

Fourth rule of being an acquisitionist: Learn the local customs and tradition.

The town of Geigertown was a town of tradition. When everyone else decided to use gallows, the proud citizens of Geigertown said NO THANKS! We like our bicycle-generator powered electric chair! God ain’t happy if you don’t send them crispy! Even if it takes three hours… Another fine trait the Geigerians have is religion. Ask them where the toilet is, and you’ll end up on death row as a pagan devil worshiper. That’s why the smart traveler will say he’s on a mission from God to cleanse his bowels from the sprouts of evil he had yesterday. All in all, nice folks if you get a chance to know them for longer than a minute.

Fourth rule of being an acquisitionist: Avoid suicide jobs.

Me: Welcome to the “Lost And Found�, what can we do for you?

Glen: I want you to find a key my wife had on her when a pack of Deathclaws ate her. I’m very emotionally attached to that key, I would be very grateful if you bring it back to me.

Me: No problem. When did this happen?

Glen: Yesterday.

Me: And where is this Deathclaw pack now?

Glen: In their radioactive cave. I don’t know where it is, but old Bartleby knows.

Me: Got it. Only thing remaining is the unpleasant matter of money. Two hundred caps!

Glen: Hundred!

Me: Two hundred!

Glen: Hundred!

Sniffy: Hundred!

Glen: DEAL!

Me: Sniffy, what the fuck?!

Sniffy: Sorry, I got carried away.

Fifth rule of being an acquisitionist: A cap spent for good information is a cap well spent.

Bartleby. There is still a dispute between heaven and hell about where old Bartleby belongs after he dies. The problem is that each side doesn’t want him running around their place. The meanest bastard you could meet. And I had to get some info out of him. Correction, Sniffy did. I gave him ten caps to try and soften the old wacko. Sniffy came back the next day with a hangover and the location of the cave. When asked what happened, Sniffy said he just asked Bartleby where he could find a cave to spend the night in, and Bartleby told him he knew a perfect one just east of here. Knowing Bartleby, it was the Deathclaw cave. I already knew what Sniffy did with the ten caps.

Sixth rule of being an acquisitionist: Shit happens.

The cave was easy to spot; the human bones were a big giveaway. The plan was simple: we lure a Deathclaw out of the cave, we make it run after us into a canyon, one of us distracts it while the other climbs up and drops a very very big rock on it, we wait for it to die and then we chop it up to get the key. If there is no key, we try again with another Deathclaw. Nothing could go wrong. We got to the running away part, but then I slipped and fell into a big pile of Deathclaw shit, and to my surprise, I emerged out with a key stuck to my forehead. We had the key, but we also had a bloodthirsty Deathclaw right behind us all the way to Geigertown. We ran into the house and locked the door. Bad idea. We barricaded ourselves in the weed. Bad idea. We ran into the basement to hide. Bad idea. The Deathclaw crushed the stairway on its way down, so we had no other choices but to bravely squeeze out through a small window on the back wall. Since it was obvious it will stay with us for a while, we named it Bob.

Seventh rule of being an acquisitionist: Be persuasive.

Glen: You have the key?

Me: I got the key, you got the caps?

Glen: Of course. Well, some of it…

Me: What do you mean, some of it?

Glen: I had, um, problems in the bank, and, uh, with my wife dead and all…

Me: Fuck all that! You owe me a hundred caps! Give me my money or…

Glen: …Or what? You will shoot me with you’re pipe rifle? Or have little Sniffy beat me up? Hand over the key, punk, or you talk to Mr. Shotgun here!

Me: Sure thing. Bob has it.

Glen: Bob? Who the fuck is Bob?

Me: He’s our storage supervisor, he handles the equipment and…

Glen: Shut up! Where is he?

Me: Right through that door and down the stairs.

Glen: What the… There are no stairs here!

Me: Yes there are, let me give you a push…

Eighth rule of being an acquisitionist: Looting is a necessity.

Bob turned out to be a valuable asset when it comes to negotiations. Thanks to him we now had a shotgun and some stimpacks, witch we managed to grab from the basement with a hook while Bob was sleeping. We also found that key again, in a pile of shit, again. Since our recently departed Glen didn’t tell us what it’s for, we had no options but to break into his house and see for ourselves. We tried the key on the front door. Nothing, we bust down the door. We tried the key on the chained up door. Nothing, we shoot the lock off. I begin to question the actual need for a key. We crash through the last standing door in the house, and what do we find? No, not a ghoul orgy, a kick ass car! We try the key in the ignition and it fits, but the engine is still dead. We pop the hood, and thanks to my old-useless-stuff knowledge we fix the problem. All it needed was a fuel cell regulator, but it can easily be replaced with a ribbed condom, cherry flavored if you want to impress the girls with you’re exhaust fumes.

Ninth rule of being an acquisitionist: No contract killings.

Some blue guy: Do you have a water chip?

Me: A water purification regulation chip? No, but I could find you one, for a price of course.

Some blue guy: No, no, it must be me that finds it, don’t ask me why. Shit… Um, do you do hits? I got this bearded asshole riding my back, money is not an issue.

Me: Sorry, no contract killings, company policy. Why don’t you do it yourself?

Some blue guy: I want to, but I can’t. He’s, like, been a father figure to me all my life. I couldn’t stand looking him in the eyes while shooting him.

Me: Then why don’t you shoot him in the back?

Some blue guy: Hmmm…

Sniffy: Yeah, and then make him crawl in his own pool of blood and guts!

Some blue guy: I might just do that. Thanks!

Sniffy: You’re welcome.

Tenth and final rule of being an acquisitionist: Be happy about what you do.

Yeah, try to be happy… I know, it’s a stupid rule, but I needed one more so I get a nice round number of rules.

Final thought

These are the basics of being an acquisitionist. It really is worth the fifty caps I charged you for it, isn’t it? Well it better be, NO REFUNDS! So, good luck. And stuff. Oh, and stay away from Geigertown, that’s my turf! Till then, take care of yourself, and each other… except Raiders, Mutants, Deathclaws, that car salesman, Gizmo, that backstabbing bastard Ian, etc, etc…

In the next issues we will go over the following topics:
How to get a golden Gecko using a normal Gecko and spray-paint
Extracting information using a blowtorch and a pair of pliers
Jet, friend or foe
One great reason to avoid guys in power armor
A collection of famous playground songs from the Wasteland
If I were normal I would go crazy.
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Post by Follower »

haha :lol: Great story... as always, I suppose.
World of FO is coming... too fast for my liking
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Wifi
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Post by Wifi »

Well put you're heads between you're legs, I got another one coming...
If I were normal I would go crazy.
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Jawz II
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Post by Jawz II »

cant wait for the rest of this story

GJ
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Wifi
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Sequel

Post by Wifi »

I'll see what I can do, and thanks for posting, such a rare thing these days...
If I were normal I would go crazy.
Kashluk

Post by Kashluk »

Just read your fic... and it's fantastic :D Lol, dude, I love your black humor!
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