Like taking candy from a Baby [Sergeant Johnson, Sense-of-Accomplishment, Murdock, Omni, VOLT-Y666, Goodnight Loving CLOSED]

One day an old and rusty plane started flying across the different islands and dropping a huge load of fliers everywhere, the rain of papers was quick to cease but still everybody noticed it. The message on the paper was crystal clear "Come to the old candy factory in the industrial area of Old Honolulu before Wednesday 10 AM. I have a work with you and will pay in caps $$$$. Bring your own weapons"and so and lo several people saw this as an opportunity for work.

Your steps took you to an old rusty fence, on the other side of it lied a megalithic building, a place whose dimensions and solemnity reminded of the pyramids and other wonders of the Old World. Even if it is close the building is hard to see, a pale green moss and a thick wall of vegetation have covered it almost in it entirety. On the outside the pass of time has rusted the fence beyond repair, and on top of that a great web of poisonous ivy and a strange and oily black mucus has surrounded it all.

The morning air is cold, the sun had only risen a couple of hours ago and soon it will come to full might, it isn't a bad time to see who the hell wanted you all in here and explore , and for the look of it this place has been untouched for a lot of years.

Climbing the fence might be the fastest route but not the safest, who knows what effects the black substance and the poisonous ivy might have on you, perhaps walking and following the fence might lead you to some kind of entrance, albeit that might be simply wasting time, and this place seems dark enough even at daylight, exploring the interior during night without specialized gear will be all but impossible. Like in most matters of life, what to do now is up to you.

Rick had never seen anything quite like it. Sure he'd poked around the taboo places of Zion in his youth, and the NCR had its share of buildings, but nothing quite as impressive as this. Even more impressive was the lack of a solid entrance. After pacing a few yards of the side he arrived at, Rick drew the flatsteel knife from the pouch on his chest, and began scraping away at the overgrowth.

Now, the soldier had no real idea of where to cut from so he was hacking away aimlessly. Every few vines, he had to re-grind the edge of his knife on the concrete, to keep the edge keen.
"Damn, almost bad like those spitter plants..."  Rick had a habit of mumbling to himself as he worked, really he was talking to the Spirit in the caves, but that doesn't matter much.

His attempts at clearing a way through the brush would end around the eighth time he had to sharpen his clever-esque knife. Rick resolved to step back and seek out any weakness in the bush with that keen eye of his (PER 75+. Perception score

The member 'Rick Hughes' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'1d100' : 42

He simply couldn't manage to discern any reasonable way through the growth, and wasn't about to run all away around the building.

The gutsy floated up to the man from behind, giving him a quick scan. He noted the rather strange attire and unique choice of weaponry. As he approached, he yelled out for his attention.

"Hello there, I have come here to inquire about the position. I am a commie-killing machine and I am sure that you will find many uses for my services."

The gutsy stated this aloud, presuming the man to be the one who had posted the job offering. He spotted him observing the fence. "I do not believe this is the entrance, perhaps we should scout around the outside to find the proper way in."

Rick stumbled forward at the metallic voice. Directly into some mutant overgrowth. He looked down at his hands and began to wipe them off on his jeans.
"'Commie-killing-machine?' Oh, you're a gutsy." Rick slowly turned around, dogtag swaying slightly in the island wind.
"You must be here about the job too."

The soldier spoke in an odd accent, somewhat Midwest crossed with native. He had a sort of cheery disposition about him, that people usually liked. Rick took notice of the bot's armaments.
"Hmm... It is possible for you to cut through some of this crud, nyeh?"

About 100 feet down the fence line, Murdock approached the fence. He saw a mr gutsy talking to a human, but couldn't make out what they were saying. All Murdock knew was he needed to bust through the fence.

Murdock reared back and swung for the fences (pun intended) activating the hydrolics in his power fist as his fist struck the fence post.

(I can't find the dice roll option)
+34 to melee attacks

(It doesn't show up on mobile, I don't think)

I found the dice

The member 'Murdock' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'1d100' : 67

The massive impact parted the fence in two, creating a huge opening from which the Super-Mutant could easily cross. A part of the fence went flying away and ended landing on a wrecked car not very far away; Murdock was entering across the parking of the place. The metal rod that crash landed on the car somehow ended opening its trunk which was almost empty and only had some empty beer bottles and their respective bottlecaps in there, seems like whoever worked in this place liked to secretly get drunk before or after work.

Rick halfway ducks for cover as he hears the crash. He pokes his head around the torn open fence, blinking a few times.
"Woo... That's some strength..." His masked eyes slowly move up Murdock. Rick roughly clears his throat.
"Specialist Hughes, call me Rick... Eheh... Please don't eat me, in very stringy." Rick laughs shakilly, the only super mutants he had ever encountered were the nightkin remnants, who were neurotic and violent. Very violent.

Murdock looks at hughes "Murdock. Murdock kills raiders. You don't look like raider."

Murdock holds up the flyer, "Murdock need caps. Murdock good at fighting, so should be easy job."

The gutsy turned at the crash, inspecting the noise, before hearing the crash of the pole on the car. He rotated, so that his pistol was aimed forward, moving to make sure the trunk was clear. He approached it slowly, his eyestalk peeking over to ensure there wasn't a communist ambush awaiting him from inside the trunk. After inspecting it for a few moments, he lowered his guard, moving to grab the bottles and bottlecaps within the trunk.

He tucked them away in his storage compartment, before turning to investigate the super mutant. He approached it without fear, his voice modulator emitting his loud, patriotic voice. "Running visual scan... Cross-referencing databases... Match found." He raised his eyestalk to his head-level, speaking to the mutant. "Biologically engineered weapon detected, product of the Forced Evolutionary Virus confirmed. Greetings to you, American super-soldier!

He stuck out his empty claw hand for him to shake, knowing full well the strength of the super-mutant. "Would you happen to be the one who posted the job advertisement? If so, I'd be more than happy to help one of our soldier boys. Here, let me hold open this fence for you, Joe." The gutsy held open the fence for him, allowing him to step inside.

Rick carefully steps over the now busted out fence, making sure to avoid the probably mutant foliage covering the chains. He gently dusted off his hand made fatigues, checking his gear for anything missing. Rick drew his pistol, cracked open the slide, and removed the magazine- checking for any damage or grime. Nothing jumped out at him as out of the ordinary, so he closed up the gun and began absentmindedly spinning it around his index finger, with expert form I might add.
"Everything seems to be in order..."

The great factory loomed over the three of them, groaning under its own weight every few moments. The thing looked solid as can be, however, and Rick had no real problem heading in. He smoothly holstered his 9mm, scanning over the monolithic building form bottom to top.
"I don't think whoever called us out here would bust down the gate, Mr. Gutsy. So you're here because of the fliers too, Murdock?"
While a bit of fear remained in his voice as he spoke to the mutant, Rick was for the most part composed.

"And actually... Do either of you see the door? I think we're supposed to go inside."

Murdock regarded the robot cautiously. In his fuzzy memories from his before, he remembered raiders having a gutsy that almost got him on the way out of a job. Had it not been for Traitor, he would probably have died there.

Remembering that, Murdock clenched his fist to attack the raider bot, but before he could he had another memory of a gutsy with Friends from his before. It was helping them fight the raiders. He thought it might be Traitor in disquise, but no, this gutsy had different markings to the raider gutsy.

Murdock felt confused for a moment, but then one of his fairly frequent moments of clarity, this was a Mister Gutsy, unless it had been reprogrammed to be hostile to him, he should be fine, and this one seemed friendly. After a slightly prolonged pause of the claw being proffered, he shook it with a sloppy grin spreading on his face.

"You are Murdocks Friend. We help each other. Hughes help us too."  He reached over and patted hughes lightly on the shoulder. Lightly, meaning, it made him stumble a little.

Hughes mentioned something about a door so Murdock waved them after him and started toward the building. "Come, we find a way in."

"Understood!" Barked the gutsy, floating in front of the man and the mutant. "I will take point." he said, strolling into the main factory floor. His eyes lit up like flashlights, illuminating the dark facility. He called out into the darkness, issuing an order to unseen people. "Attention employer, or communist scum, Come out, I would like to have a word with you, although if you are the latter it will be fewer words and more actions."

The gutsy stopped in the middle of the darkness, readying his laser pistol. Something didn't seem right, it was if something in the dark was staring at the group. He prepared to fire, ready to defend himself against whatever was about to jump out. It could've been nothing, but the gutsy was ready regardless.

"Step out and identify yourself employer, we are here for the job. There are three of us, all armed. If you do not find us, we will take it into our own hands to find you." He quickly scanned the factory floor, trying to spot anything important, be it loot, enemies, or the employer.

Going to roll perception to locate anything in the darkness. Add 14 to this roll. I'd say I need to get above a 45 to locate anything of use.

Add 14 to this roll, Target: 45

The member 'Sergeant Johnson' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'1d100' : 47

The Sergeants electronic eyes quickly detected a faint sound and a repeating flash of light. At first it was confusing what that sound and lights were but soon enough all of them knew what it was, it was the music of the wasteland, a sound that everybody nowadays knew way too well, the sound of a gun shooting repeatedly.

Slowly the sounds became more and more clear and louder and along with them came a trembling voice.

"Die fucking, thing, die!"

The author of that cries was a running man dressed in a somewhat ragged and grimy outfit, several stains of dried blood could be seen across his elegant suit.

"Oh thank fucking Poseidon somebody is here to help me!"

Behind him ran a great group of radroaches of all sizes, all together they became a wriggling mass of small hands and antennae that moved in all directions yet at unison, as if it were a living wave.

When the man reached your group he went to the outside, who was still brightly illuminated by sunlight.

"They abhor sunlight, get out of here now!" He screamed for one last time before collapsing on the ground, attempting to recover his breath.

"Oh good father!" Hughes sees the swarm of roaches, and stumbles backwards. His hand reaches for the knife strapped to his chest, fumbling to grab the thing before getting a solid grip. Rick assumes a crouched, close quarters fighting stance and steels himself. The squirming mass scurries here and there, trying to find reach the ragged man, but avoiding the sunlight. Rick relaxes slightly, letting out a sigh.

"Uh... Sir? You were the ones who dropped those fliers?" Rick turns to look at the man, carefully studying him for weaponry or anything suspicious. (PER roll- +10 modifier. Say 65+ to succeed) The soldier boy keeps a tight grip on his makeshift knife, frequently glancing between his companions, the man, and the roach swarm.
"This is really not my day... Hoo boy..."

The member 'Rick Hughes' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'1d100' : 5

The gutsy shined his light as the man ran past him, spotting the roaches in tow. He saw the other man run outside, into the safety of the light, but he was more angry than afraid, as he could not feel fear.

"Communist roaches dare to trespass on U.S soil?" The gutsy yelled out, floating towards the horde. He turned himself, readying his flamethrower. "Burn them all!" He yelled, his flamethrower igniting, shooting flames into the darkness, right into the middle of the horde.

After making contact with his flamethrower, he began floating backwards, keeping at a pace that wouldn't allow for the roaches to keep up, but still keep them in range of his flamethrower.

+26 to all ranged attacks.

The member 'Sergeant Johnson' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'1d100' : 49