eyy, senpai!
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Joined: Fri Jan 03, 2014 7:40 am Posts: 2427 Location: The Hell Dimension Medals: 14
Blog: View Blog (3)
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Two for now, and two to three more on the way! - Michael Hawke | +
- Name: Michael Hawke
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Appearance: Michael is an able-bodied human man of mostly caucasian ethnicity, in good shape and generally free of ailments and mutations. He's around six feet tall, give or take a few inches, and has a well-built (for a wastelander) frame, more built for endurance and long-term physical exertion than powerful bursts of strength. His skin has a healthy tan to it, and a few scars here and there. A particularly noticeable one crosses the underside of his right forearm, lining up with another one that curves diagonally across his chest. He also has a single tattoo, a simple tribal band around his right bicep. Structure-wise, his face is pleasant to look at, and gives him an approachable look. He's got an oval jaw, high and flat eyebrows, and high cheekbones, as well as bright blue eyes. His hair is a deep chestnut brown, a bit shaggy and usually 'combed' back and up with his fingers, and more often than not, he's got a short, rough beard kept moderately groomed with a knife.
For clothing, he dresses simply, preferring light carrying to heavy armour. His normal outfit consists of a white collared shirt decorated with grey pinstripes, top button undone and sleeves rolled to the elbow, a pair of dark blue denim jeans, and a pair of brown leather boots. He accessorizes with a thick leather vest, worn open above his shirt and pocketed near the hips, a pair of leather gloves, the left of which lacks fingers, a belt with a large star-emblazoned buckle, and a cowboy hat. He's also in possession of a tattered blue scarf, a pair of aviator shades, and a long duster, which are usually brought out in the event of bad weather, but usually stowed safely inside his backpack, a simple duffel bag.
Personality: Michael is generally an easygoing, kind, and laid-back sort of guy who avoids conflict when possible and makes as little collateral damage as possible when it happens. While he has something of a distaste for bloodshed, he's far from cowardly, and is in fact quite brave when it comes to aiding others or making a place safe enough to remain in. While he prefers not to kill, he doesn't beat himself up over doing so, and will put a bullet in an attacker without a second thought. He's rarely angry and enjoys taking time to appreciate the beauty in life, whether it's as simple as a butterfly fluttering by or as majestic as a fertile valley separated from the wastes. He firmly believes that by doing good, the world can be made into a better place, and thus aspires to do as much good as he can on his travels. This results in leaving a trail of good deeds in his path, as he rarely settles long enough to enjoy most of it himself. While he'll always be ready to help people out, he feels as if staying with them will soften him up and tempt him into inaction. Due to this, he feels obligated to keep himself on the old dusty trail, going where he's needed until he's needed no longer.
On a personal level, he's sweet and easy to make friends with, very easily to just hang around and have a good time with as company. He sees the good in people, and prefers to talk things out whenever possible. A strong love of life and nature is easily noted, and he can find companionship and beauty in some of the most unlikely things. However, he can occasionally show hints of an inner desire to just settle down and live an easy life, which causes him turmoil due to his desire to make a mark on the world and help it recover. And while he is indeed hard to anger, he's not immune to negative emotion, and holds some intense hatred for certain things in the world. When he or someone he cares about is wronged or hurt, he can be extremely ruthless in avenging or protecting them, and in his worldview, certain kinds of people are better off dead, far past the point of redemption. But given his willingness to try and help people who have been dealt extreme hardships, it takes a hell of a lot to get to that level.
History: Michael's life began in a small village in the Northwest Commonwealth. Built somewhere near what was the border of Idaho and Oregon, he lived within a small town, built almost entirely by hand out in a relatively fertile area of wilderness. The village's inhabitants, a more 'civilized' than normal tribe, were known through the area as a peaceful group that provided fresh food for anyone who wished to trade, but were generally free from raids by less agreeable groups due to their effective combat skills. The Snake River Walkers, as they were known, inhabited various points around the river they were named after, modeling themselves after the culture of the American Old West, learned about through books and holotapes found long before their settlement.
Michael's early childhood was a source of fond memories, long afternoons spent out on the fields, comfortable evenings with friends watching fireflies, and other small things that he still enjoys to this day. While mostly uneventful, it was a good life, a simple existence free from the strife of the wastelands and the bureaucracy of large-scale settlements. Of course, it was not without hardships. The overall lack of technology the village had meant field work was done by hand, and it became especially grueling during the summers and winters. Whether it was as simple as hot weather causing heat-based illness or as hard to manage as crops dying in the cold. Despite weather and the occasional conflict with other tribes, they prospered for decades.
Unfortunately, all could not last. Trade was the primary way the village obtained supplies other than grown food and livestock, and during a particularly harsh winter, they simply stopped showing up. Too little food was being produced to attract well-intentioned outsiders, and without things like medicine and other supplies, it was unlikely that they would survive the winter. At this point, Michael was a young adult, and along with other younger members of the village, came up with the idea of migrating south to find warmer land. While the elders disagreed with the plan, many of them too old or sick to survive such a potential journey, around half of the village's inhabitants agreed to it.
The exodus began, sights set on Nevada. The village, left with much fewer people to sustain, would go on to survive the winter with little trouble. On the other hand, a long and deadly journey awaited Michael's party. At first, things seemed like they would be okay. Food reserves, mostly vegetables prepared and sealed in jars back home, kept them sustained well during the first month or so of their long walk. Hunting provided meat and fat needed for cooking, and gathering locally growing plants helped stretch the reserves as well. Water soon became a problem, as the further from the river they went, the less chances they had to gather water from it, and soon after passing the Nevada border, they were beginning to run out.
Conditions grew worse as they went on. While they had successfully escaped the cold north, they soon found themselves in an even worse place, the scorching, dead sands that barely sustained any life at all. Wildlife was sparse, and any civilizations were even sparser. Eventually, the group had to resort to hunting and consuming mutated insects, some of which proved toxic when not correctly prepared, infused with venom from popped glands that entered the bloodstream through dehydration-cracked lips. People began to die, whether from starvation due to refusal to eat the potentially deadly creatures or being poisoned by their only source of food. Despite losses, the group carried on, still hopeful to find solace somewhere in the deserts.
An attempt to follow a river to the east resulted in an encounter with the violent 80s tribe, aggressive raiders who covered their territories on rebuilt motorcycles. The group successfully managed to fight them off, killing many of their attackers, but losing even more of their own numbers in the process, including Michael's own father. There was little time to mourn, and after he was buried, the group proceeded further south, using the motorcycles of the fallen raiders to cover ground more quickly. Reinforcements came, but as the groups were put on more even ground by the vehicles, the more coordinated remnants of Michael's group once again fended off their attackers.
Eventually, fuel ran out, and the group once again was forced to walk. Their hardships were not over, and as they neared the Clark County area of the Mojave Wasteland, a scouting party allied with Caesar's Legion stopped them with the intentions to enslave them all. Fighting broke out, devastating what remained of the travel party. Michael was one of only four who came out of the battle on either side, accompanied by his mother and two childhood friends. All of them were injured, and would have died out in the wastes if not for the intervention of a group of NCR Rangers.
They were taken to a camp, their wounds treated and conditions evaluated. While they were lucky to be alive, they could not remain at the camp for long, and were given directions to the town of Primm in the Mojave Wasteland. There, the survivors of the long journey finally settled, taking some time to adjust to the new land. Coincidentally, local culture was not entirely dissimilar to the one they were raised on, and they adjusted rather well. Michael gained work as a courier for the Mojave Express, after the owners of the company overheard him speaking of his experiences on the road. He delivered packages throughout the Mojave to provide for his mother, who eventually passed away of old age, and his remaining friends, who went their own way to begin new lives elsewhere.
He worked for years, eventually landing a job as one of six couriers contracted to deliver strange, seemingly useless items to the Vegas Strip. His delivery, a set of riding spurs, took him halfway to Vegas when he found the body of another one of the couriers, that one carrying a novelty belt buckle. He buried the courier and took the package, intending to finish the delivery, until he learned that Mojave Express couriers were being targeted by someone, told over a radio news report. Michael immediately decided to leave, not believing his life was worth the price of some costume pieces. Without returning to the work building, he stopped by his home and gathered what he could, taking off into the night toward the east.
Intent on putting as much distance between himself and the Mojave as possible, he purchased a junker motorcycle on the edge of the Nevada border, powered by a fusion core. Using the motorcycle, he rode through Arizona, avoiding the attention of Legion patrols in their homeland by keeping to trade routes and moving alongside caravans, essentially making himself as 'normal' as possible during the journey. The occasional scuffle broke out, but it was never more than a handful of patrolling initiates at a time, and the focus the Legion put onto the Mojave at the time meant their attention was elsewhere anyway.
His travel across Arizona and New Mexico consisted of helping others out of bad situations, including a two month long journey to help return a kidnapped child home from a slaver. It took him a long time to cross the deserts, but outside of Legion territory, he met many people and lended a hand whenever he could. It gave him a sense of peace, knowing that even in small ways, he was helping make the world better. From then on, it became something of a personal duty for him, albeit one that kept him from ever settling down again. As much as he'd like to eventually take it easy and just live out his days away from conflicts, there's too much wrong with the world for him to be comfortable with abandoning his goal. If not just for himself, then for the tribe he left behind. Eventually, he reached Texas, but not before his motorcycle was destroyed in an encounter with raiders, ruined completely by its detonated fusion core. After that point, he continued on foot.
Skills: - S.P.E.C.I.A.L. stats | +
- Strength: 5
Perception: 4 Endurance: 8 Charisma: 7 Intelligence: 5 Agility: 7 Luck: 4
Michael is skilled in the use and maintenance of kinetic firearms, ranging from the simple sidearm to the more complicated machinegun. Generally, he much prefers weapons that are easy to maintain, reliable, and without a multitude of complicated mechanics. The more parts to a gun there are, the higher a chance something will fail. His preferences thus lead him to use things like revolvers, bolt-action and lever-action rifles, and shotguns, with a particular love for the latter. His aim with a sidearm is good enough to put a hole through a bottlecap, and his experience with older gun models lets him reload them with surprising speed, making the slower-to-use models on par with more modern weaponry in his hands.
Living on the trail has taught Michael a lot about wasteland flora and fauna, weather patterns, building shelters, and the simple art of cooking a meal over a campfire. He has expansive knowledge of what in the wastes is edible, what's toxic, and what can be made safe through cooking techniques, as well as how to filter dirty water and make some surprisingly tasty things with relatively limited ingredients. On the fauna side of things, tracking, hunting techniques, and capturing and taming animals is something he knows much about, and he keeps his discoveries and tried-and-true methods written within a journal to look back on. He's also good at making a place to sleep and stay hidden when necessary, and isn't too bothered by non-deadly, but uncomfortable weather conditions.
Dealing with people from all walks of life, as well as his wandering lifestyle, has necessitated that Michael be a good talker who can see through lies and convince people to open up to him. His naturally kind personality helps people like him, though there are the inevitable few who find his cheery disposition more an annoyance than anything. He's a very understanding individual who can work out deeply hidden issues in people to aid them, convince ongoing hostilities to end, and generally try to deal with things peacefully. More casually, he's got a very good sense of humor and enjoys back-and-forth banter and other playful sorts of talk, and can be very genuine with his feelings when talking about them.
Equipment: Michael uses firearms as his primary weapons, preferring mid to short range battle over long-distance sniping engagements. He commonly uses two guns, swapping between them depending on situation.
His sidearm is a Colt Python .357 magnum revolver, with a stainless steel frame and brown wood handles and a six shot cylinder. The barrel is six inches long and ported along the top, and the grip has an ergonomic design for comfortable holding. It's kept in a leather thigh holster strapped to Michael's left leg, the belt of which holds bullets for quick access. He uses hollow point ammo for use against unarmoured foes and animals, and has a limited supply of armour-piercing bullets.
His main weapon is a Winchester Model 1887 12 gauge lever-action shotgun. The gunmetal is black, and the wooden grips and stock are both dark brown. The weapon is modified to have a long tube, giving it a full capacity of 8 shells. The barrel length, shoulder stock, and use of slug shells make it effective even at fairly long ranges, but he more commonly loads the weapon with normal buckshot. It usually sits on his back in a custom made holster, the front belt of which is lined with shotgun shells.
More for use as a tool than a weapon, Michael is in possession of a large, heavy-bladed bowie knife. It's about 12 inches long and kept sheathed opposite his sidearm, kept sharp with a small whetstone. While it's useful for self defense up close, he much prefers his guns, but can use the knife very deftly when using it to carve or chop something.
While he doesn't employ true armour, his vest and gloves are quite protective against environmental wear and tear or sharp objects, like the teeth and claws of mutated wildlife or even small knives. Naturally, it does nothing to stop bullets or blunt impacts. His duffel bag is also full of travel supplies, like rope, sheets, a small cooking pan, some silverware, a first-aid kit with stimpaks and chems, and a glass jar full of bottlecaps. He's also got some spurs he wears, more for decoration than anything. Finally, he keeps a leatherbound journal, full of notes and pictures of things he's seen and collected during his travels. Some trinkets inside have been taped to the pages, generally small things like coins, special bottle caps, paper scraps, or photographs.
Other: Michael has a faithful mole rat companion that he captured and tamed on the road a few years ago. She's proven to be quite a useful helper, able to dig for root vegetables, sniff out important items, and on occasion, carry loot in a back saddle. She's fairly large, about knee high and four feet long. He wants to name her, but can't think of anything good enough.
- Surge | +
- Name: Sergei "Surge" Gorbachyov
Age: 204
Gender: Male
Appearance: Surge is a Mariposa super mutant. He's roughly eight feet tall, and like all super mutants, heavily muscled and somewhat deformed. While he's not the largest of his kind around, he's still much stronger than a human, capable of tearing through things with ease. His skin is dark blue, somewhat lumpy-looking in places, and scarred due to the various battles he's been in. What look like plasma burns cover his chest and right shoulder, and a large vertical scar runs down his head from his eyebrow to his chin. He has a large, flat nose, a heavy forward-set brow above grey eyes, and an exaggerated jawline with heavy jowls. He has no hair, completely bald and even lacking eyebrows, though the left side of his face has a small ridge of tumors where the brow would be.
For clothing, Surge is rather limited by his size. His normal 'outfit' seems to be the remnants of a vault suit and labcoat, consisting of faded blue pants and a dusty, tattered-sleeved white jacket, paired with things that were obviously made later in the wastes. A pair of about knee-length boots and a sleeveless shirt, both made of soft brahmin hide, provide comfortable wear with adequate durability. The knees of his pants have built in padding, and a pair of work gloves usually kept looped behind his belt are often used when he's building something. Said belt also holds a variety of large pouches, which contain various objects he deems useful enough to keep on his person. Also related to working, he wears a pair of large, multi-lensed goggles, worn on his forehead or around his neck when not in use.
Personality: All his life, Surge has been quiet and distant from many people. He's not the easiest person to talk to, both because of his introverted nature and his somewhat questionable grip on modern phrases and sayings. He tends to take things quite literally, not so much that it influences his actions, but enough to cause him some confusion when people talk to him. His relative silence compared to others, combined with the fact that he's a super mutant, have made it easy for some people to stereotype him as dumb or unknowledgable. On the inverse, he's very smart, excelling especially in fields of technology. Tinkering with mechanical objects, fixing broken robots, harvesting pieces of usable scrap from destroyed vehicles, and other such mechanically-inclined hobbies are among his favorite. He's also quite adept at using computers, and enjoys using terminals whenever possible, keeping his typings well-protected at all times. While occupying himself, he tends to be a bit more open to talking, especially if it's answering questions about what it is he's doing.
While far from stupid and overly hostile, Surge's experiences as a super mutant and some changes that happened after his mutation left him with a very short temper and a lack of reservation about breaking things (and people) that prove to be either obstacles or annoyances. In particular, he dislikes people insulting his intelligence, and often ends up threatening people who do so. Various encounters with prejudiced non-mutants has instilled a prejudice towards them, a vicious cycle of dislike and disdain that has only served to make life for both sides less easy. He doesn't mind ghouls nearly as much, and he has a particular interest in synths and cyborgs. But it's rare to find a normal human he considers worth his time these days. He has especially little patience for idiots, but is willing to offer some insight to people who actually want to learn things, provided they can communicate with him clearly enough. Likewise, he enjoys learning new things, and studies old-world writing whenever he can find it. Grognak the Barbarian has quickly become his favorite comic series.
History: Surge's time as a human has nearly been forgotten. He only remembers bits and pieces, scraps of memory hidden deep within his mind. He was the descendant of a Russian immigrant, a scientist, and an inhabitant of Vault 17. Besides that, he remembers having an affinity for robots and electricity. When it comes to the details, such as any family, his life before science, or almost anything prior to the war, he honestly could not tell you. Occasionally, he would tell stories to his super mutant colleagues, entertaining the lesser-minded soldiers during the ends of long patrols and days filled with battle.
Past his time of mutation, his memory is clearer. He was taken from Vault 17 alongside many others by an invading army of super mutants after the apocalyptic Great War. Surge was among those infected with the Mariposa strain of the Forced Evolutionay Virus, which changed him into one of the most ideal examples of a mutant that the base had. While his mind was afflicted to a degree, influencing his attitude to make him more aggressive and combat-minded as well as dulling his memory as a human, he retained his intelligence and sanity almost completely.
He made an exceptional soldier, capable of giving highly intelligent orders to the less successful mutants that acted as troops. Promotions came as time went on, and eventually, he began to utilize stealth boys to perform reconaissance and intelligence gathering, as well as gaining access to technologies that allowed him to create custom equipment using his old scientific knowledge. However, overuse of the machines furthered his mutation, and while he still remained mostly the same, his aggressive tendencies grew, influencing him enough to give him a great enjoyment of close combat and the rush of battle.
Surge has lost count of how many people he's killed, subjected to mutation, or otherwise harmed during his time as a member of the army. In fact, he has trouble remembering much at all sometimes, though he feels some tinge of regret for all the suffering he's had a hand in. Toward the end of his career as a soldier, he considered going AWOL to start anew, far from the Californian wastelands he plagued for years. Eventually, the Master of the army he was a part of was defeated, forcing it to disband. Surge leapt at the opportunity, and vanished into the night, never to be seen again by his old allies as their infrastructure collapsed.
For some time, he remained in Nevada, living within a mountain community established by another intelligent super mutant. He worked mostly to help power the town, as there was little else he was really good at. The realization that his skills were good only for killing made him furious, and internally self-loathing during his time at the town. None of the others judged him, as many of them had done things much the same, if not worse, but paranoia and aggressive thoughts brought on by his furthered mutation made him feel as if the entire town was constantly speaking behind his back, planning to bring some form of retribution for his crimes. The thoughts eventually became too much to bear, and he took off in the middle of the night, hauling all his destructive tools with him.
In truth, he did not know where he was going. He had no goal, no ideas for where his life would take him. All he knew was that he wanted desperately to distance himself from the west, and thus he began a long trek that took him out of the safety of his community. And, as fate would have it, right into a patrol made up of Brotherhood of Steel paladins. A battle ensued, and while he fought hard and with superior technology, he was outgunned and defeated. Once disarmed and presumed dead, plasma having eaten through his armour and burned his flesh, he was stripped of all salvageable tech and abandoned in the unforgiving desert. He remained unconscious for hours, and even after awakening the next day, remained laying in the sand for an entire morning.
He considered never getting up, and allowing the desert to take him. It would be the end, and nothing else would cause him any trouble. Eventually, after an attack by a particularly large radscorpion, he decided against it. If life would not let him have a quiet end, then he would seek some form of redemption. With no supplies and only desert around him for miles on end, he continued his travels, seeking things that could aid him from traveling merchants and anyone else who would talk before shooting at him on sight. His wounds were eventually tended, leaving massive scarring, but no longer at risk of infection. One merchant he traded with later during his travels offered him a place in their community, and he followed them through the remains of the Four States Commonwealth, avoiding the attention of the local rulers by hiding beneath a large hooded cloak.
He spent some time with a group of New Canaanites, where he was a useful ally both for bringing power to settlements, getting old machines working, and keeping their caravans safe on the road. Surge never quite subscribed to their religious beliefs, but he enjoyed their company and the sense of peace that the town had. He remained there for some time, but eventually parted ways with them, as the thoughts that had forced him to flee his first home finally caught back up with him. His parting was more amicable this time, and after a heartfelt farewell, he continued moving east.
Some time later, Surge found himself in a very, very promising place. The Texas commonwealth was a highly advanced utopia in some places, particularly the shining city of Houston. Seeking to study the technologies within, he began his travels across the wasteland, procuring some extra tools from locals during his approach. He has still yet to reach the city, but has hopes that he can utilize it to maximize efficiency and hopefully spread the technology to other places.
Skills: - S.P.E.C.I.A.L. stats | +
- Strength: 8
Perception: 8 Endurance: 5 Charisma: 2 Intelligence: 10 Agility: 2 Luck: 5
Surge has expansive knowledge regarding computers, robotics, and power systems. Rather than focusing on hacking pre-existing security systems, he uses his skill with programming to create AIs for robotic constructs he builds. He's also skilled with influencing the AI of hostile machines remotely, if only temporarily, to either turn the tides in a battle or quickly deactivate the afflicted robot. He can also create high-tech modifications for weapon and armour, and construct energy weapons and other related objects with seemingly useless junk. He specializes in the use of tesla coils in his work, both as a power source and a form of offense and defense. Likewise, he can optimize the power output of energy cells, and create unique versions with added effects.
Making good use of his own constructions, Surge is highly skilled in the use of energy weapons of various sizes, ranging from plasma pistols to gatling lasers. Through various sciences, he's learned how to alter the properties of laser and plasma weapons, and almost everything he uses is a personal modification. While he prefers to focus on accuracy, he also uses what he calls 'overcharge' mods, allowing him to expend an entire power cell to overclock the weapon's shooting potential, whether it's a mass of rapid-fired lasers or a large ball of explosive plasma. His specialty lies in the use of Tesla coil-based weaponry, which fire various forms of electric energy that are capable of killing beasts and frying robots, as well as infusing electricity into other energy projectiles.
While not his primary form of fighting, Surge's size and durability make him dangerous up close. He prefers weapons he can wield one handed, which due to his size is damn near anything of a reasonable size, and tends to gravitate towards hammers and other blunt objects that require less maintenance. Much like his ranged weapons, he doesn't settle for simple things, and often modifies them to add a scientific touch. Heating systems, engines, and his signature tesla coils for electrical conduction have all been used before, which can turn a simple sledgehammer into an electric, rocket-powered tool of destruction.
Equipment: His primary weapons are energy-based guns, and while he's used both pistols and large weapons in the past, he prefers rifle-sized guns that allow for a good amount of firepower without being overly cumbersome. Mostly for backup, or when ammo runs low, he also uses melee weaponry.
Surge's main weapon after the loss of his old equipment is a makeshift-looking laser musket, constructed from parts of a broken AER9 laser rifle, a tesla coil, and various salvaged pieces he used to reconstruct it into a functional weapon. The weapon has a full metal stock, a tesla coil within its crank housing, and the body of the rifle is attached to a forked barrel resembling that of a Winchester P94 plasma rifle. The tesla coil converts fusion cell ammunition into blue, electric lasers, and when being charged, electricity crackles between the barrel's forks. The firing mechanism is also modified to allow multiple shots, rather than single overcharged shots, though the latter can still be achieved by holding down the trigger after multiple cranks.
For close encounters, Surge uses a sledgehammer, which as of now is mostly unmodified other than some reinforcement to the handle. As well as crushing skulls and collapsing ribcages, it's effective at breaking through barriers and helps with tearing apart scrap metal. He has plans to construct a super sledge with its parts when he can find the appropriate pieces.
To protect himself from bullets and energy attacks alike, Surge employs a suit of armour made from the remains of various robots and scrap metal. On his torso, he wears a modified protectron torso, stripped of paint and widened at the arms to allow him to actually put it on. A pair of armguards made from the same robot cover his forearms. On his shins and thighs, he wears plates that made from vehicular scrap and other robot frames, modified beyond recognizability. Similar plates hang over his waist and stomach. Currently, he has no helmet.
As well as various trinkets held in his belt pouches, he wears a large metal toolbox on his back, attached to the same belts that hold his various pieces of armour on. It contains various tools, powered and otherwise, that he uses for the construction of his machinery. He also has a section used to hold other things, mostly small pieces of possibly useful scrap. Beneath the tool racks, he's stowed a few comic books away for safe keeping.
Other: Surge considers himself a staunch enemy of the Brotherhood of Steel. While he hasn't had encounters with them in quite a while, both their tendency to steal technology and some chapters' strong anti-mutant attitude has left him heavily soured on the entire faction, regardless of differences in ideology. It would take a lot to get him to trust someone from the group. Also, his nickname has a dual meaning, coming both from the trouble super mutants had with pronouncing 'Sergei' and his tendency to use electric energy weapons during his time in the Master's army.
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