If the lead roach raises its abdomen and emits a bright yellow aerosol, do not run. That is the “crowd-killing” pheromone. To survive, you must hold your breath and grab the nearest radroach by its antennae. This establishes mutual assured destruction. The aerosol will clear. You will taste batteries for a week.
The oldest radroach, the one with a crumbling Minor Threat patch fused to its thorax, will sit behind a card table. It sells only three things: a demo tape recorded on a dictaphone inside a microwave, a shirt with a screenprint of an atomic bomb shaped like an anarchy symbol, and a vial of its own hemolymph labeled “Stage Blood.” Buy the tape. It’s $2 or two bottle caps. Do not haggle. radroachhc
If you encounter a Radroachhc show in the wastes, you have three options. If the lead roach raises its abdomen and
Leap into the center. Do not swing your fists. They have no eyes; they see via vibration. Instead, you must push-pit with your palms open. A closed fist is a declaration of war. An open palm is a greeting. This establishes mutual assured destruction
Radroachhc rejects the false comfort of Vault-Tec’s sterile futurism. It rejects the BOS’s fascist order. It rejects the NCR’s bureaucratic stagnation. Radroachhc believes only in the next riff, the next stomp, the next glorious, festering pile of irradiated trash from which a new song will crawl.