[Rye]

(We're 10 years old , that means we've been telling people the obvious private means private back when the iphone was a super cool and new thing)

It was damp in the cave , illuminated by a procession of oil lamps on rods and strings leading deeper into the cave but not illuminating it any better. Five people stood in the warm stone cave. A kid in sun glasses and a vault suit , a pipboy on his arm and a 10 mm machine gun in the other. A man , black , tall , with a thick black beard and a bald head , looked a little nervous but rather cool , like a man in charge. Two rather simple looking caravan guards , a common sight across the Mojave , although becoming more common at caravan stops since the war. Goods were being held up everywhere , accumulating a small unpaid army eager to make some caps any way they could. Even if it meant bailing on their current job. A small woman in a standard merc outfit and a laser rifle on her back, her hair tied back , she looked capable. The last was a rather small figure , they wore a dark green canvas cloak over themselves and had the hood up , not uncommon if coming in from a dust storm , like the one outside. In the gap it was easy to see he had some dark blue clothes on , they looked thick and tough , mended too from the stitching, looked like a jacket of some sort. The person was sitting cross-legged on a large flat rock , sipping on a Nuka-Cola. On his back was a rifle , with a flag tied around the stock , it looked like the colours were once red , green and white but over time they were faded and dirty so it was hard to make out the original colours, tied up with a stiff knot. Around his chest was the strap to a satchel , seemed a little stuffed but he was under the weight limit for his personal supplies so he was fine.

The signal had gone out so they were just waiting for one more person to join the caravan and they would reach the required number , if they had a pipboy , even better. So the crew waited in the cave for someone else to come up and join the crew.