This is a series of one shots from Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, and Fallout 4. I do not own any of the characters, of course.
All One Shots are in alphabetical order for your convenience.
Anything with an ➵ and a title has been reread, and (hopeful...
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I entered the Gallery, pointing over my shoulder at the door, "Pickman! Got some trash for you to take out!"
The handsome man poked his head from the kitchen, and walked over to me, "Are they already dead?" I nodded, and he sighed wistfully, "A shame. I derive a good amount of pleasure from watching the life flee their eyes and bodies... Ah, well. More will come. Will you help me bring them in?"
I put the blade he'd given me in its spot on my belt, and opened the door. I'd only scored down on two today. He was right, though, about more coming. I'm shocked he hasn't already killed every Raider in the Commonwealth. More had been showing up lately, and the last one I brought in was a looker. Had a nice metal eyepatch too. I grabbed two dead ankles, and Pickman threw the other limp body over his shoulder. I dragged it to the kitchen, leaving a stream of blood. I dropped the legs with a loud thump, catching my breath. Pickman let the other Raider slide off of his shoulder. I went over to the stove. As mentally ill as Pickman was, he wasn't a cannibal. He said it was because he only killed Raiders, and that if you ate them, their negative emotions would fall to you or something like that.
So I usually just cooked whatever I happened to hunt when finding Raiders. Today's specialty was a good old fashioned Radroach and some 200 year old coffee, made from 200 year old coffee grounds, made with a 200 year old coffee maker! Hooray! I rolled my eyes, looking over my shoulder at Pickman, who was deciding where his incision would be on his first body. "Ugh. Why do you always have to do it in the kitchen? Your gore room is literally right there."
Pickman didn't meet my gaze, he kept examining the body, "Correct. Though, the lighting in here provides a more positive feeling on these poor dead bastards. Don't you think?"
"I thought it was just because this is where all the knives were but that works too."
He responded in his low, always seductive, manner, "Well there's that too."
I pointed a wooden spoon towards his room full of paintings, "Do it in there from now on. The smell of blood is slowly starting to make the food taste like iron. Plus, you don't want 'negative energy' getting on your dinner."
"I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps I can find an old lamp to put in my gore room. Do you happen to know where you put the one you stole from Nuka-World?"
I shrugged, listening to the sizzle of meat on the pan, "Should be upstairs."
He left the room swiftly, adjusting his collar. I smiled and went back to cooking. I heard a creak, and turned around. I just about lost my shit. I swear to god that body just moved. I held my wooden spoon in my hand, and went over to it. The Raider's eyes opened, and he sucked in a breath. I sort of blacked out after that. When I came to, I was holding my wooden spoon over a bashed in, tattooed face. Pickman entered the room again, holding a floral lamp in his arms, "Did you just kill a man with a wooden spoon?"
I nodded, and he smiled, blushing furiously and walking off into his gore room to plug up his cute lamp.
