Chapter One: Kiro "The Faceless" Yakimochi
Kiro Yakimochi, a young ex-vault dweller orphan from Vault 18 in the California wastes was
setting up his camp and preparing to settle down after yet another one of his caravans he decided to tag along with wound up getting destroyed by the cruel and unforgiving wastes. After many miles of walking, traveling, and wandering – he was fucking tired, and just wanted to relax and attempt to forget the fact that yet another one of his caravans perished from these goddamned wastes. He took off his old scuffed-up Sierra Madre Security helmet, and stared into the reflective see-through mirror visor and sighed at the sight of his face, and the small amounts of scratches and scars on his face. Kiro put down his helmet, and picked up a pack of cigarettes he lifted from the pack Brahmin, named "Casey" and opened the pack, pulling out the first cigarette in the row, and closing the pack. He rooted around in his satchel for his zippo lighter, and leaned back on the wall letting out a loud sigh and putting the now-lit cigarette into his mouth. Kiro started humming "Fly Me to the Moon", while pulling out his old, tarnished Magnum Research BFR .45-70 Gov't. Kiro opened the chamber, and pulled out the spent cartridges and loaded it with the small amount of ammunition he has left. "Goddamned mutants. Costing me my good fucking rounds… these things are not cheap or common… fuck." Kiro said coldly and
angrily. "I wish for once, just once that the company I choose to delve myself into is not completely wiped from the face of the Earth." Kiro let out a loud exasperated sigh, and holsters his weapon. He, ran his hand through his matted and dirty black hair, and rubs his eyes. "I cannot go to sleep just yet, I have to stay on-guard. Make sure this shitty hellhole is safe. I do not want to die while I fucking sleep with a knife through my chest." Kiro gets off of the wall, takes a heavy puff of his cigarette and flicks it on the ground. Kiro roots through his satchel again, and pulls out a small, worn-down photograph of two people – his parents. Letting out another heavy sigh, and plopping down onto the ground he states coldly "Why did they have to bring me to that stupid goddamn vault? I guarantee you we would have died all the same… but I could have had my parents for a few more years… but… my mother was indeed a pain in the ass… angry just to be angry. My father, though… my poor father… he did so much for us." Kiro then wipes away a tear, and groans. "I cannot say I didn't hate Vault 18… it was safe. But goddamn it those fucking kids. Those goddamned terrible kids. Doctor Rossman was always nice to me, but those fucking Jocks, and that Bragg with his fucking "Patriots" doomed us all. I guess it was a fitting end, though… and I can only presume all of those fucking Jocks are rotting in a firey hell, alongside Bragg." Kiro then lays back onto the ground, staring up at the stars. "I cannot say my current mental-state is a terrible one… I am cold, calculating, ruthless. I hate humanity, and there is a strong chance humanity feels the same way. Never have I wanted to be separated from humanity so badly; I enjoy, no… crave solitude – the very idea of moving alone sounds amazing... but no human with his grasp upon humanity was meant to surrender the comfort received from the company of others… no. Only the unloved and the unnatural hate. I guess I am both." Kiro chuckles at the idea of there being a happier version of himself… he always seemed upset, almost as if he never had a childhood. Letting out a satisfied chuckle, he sits up – not wanting to fall asleep and run the risk of getting killed here.
Kiro chuckles, remembering something he heard while venturing with his first caravan "Lucky
Loads Caravaneers" Kiro and his caravan stopped in some old Mormon or pseudo-Christian city, and he stopped off in some worn-down shop. The keeper inside was kind-enough, but he scared Kiro with hi religious zealotry, he proclaimed some giant bearded-motherfucker would come from the sky, and smite all of the non-believers and send them to a firey-hell while still proclaiming "I still love all of my children!" Kiro greatly considered putting this poor bastard out of his misery, it almost seemed fitting, he appeared to be demented. If some bearded epitome of power was watching over us, and he was proclaimed to be the loving figure he is, why did he let all of this happen – no, there is no God, and it is almost sad to think some people still believe there is some magical epitome of power watching over all of us. Although, he still thought of this being just innocent-thinking he still found it to be quickly shook these thoughts from his head, deciding he had no room to think as such if he was not comfortable with religion in the first place. He stood up, and decided to visit the attack site of his current caravan, to see if he could find anything else on the corpses of the others or to ensue nobody survived, because if they did – he would put them down… he did not have the medical supplies or know-how to treat any severe wounds, and those goddamned monsters were armed to the tooth with Miniguns; even if he brandished any know-how, those Miniguns would certainly cause more wounds than he can ever hope to treat. He was lucky enough that the mutants fled as they began to fall to him. He walked up to the corpse of the most annoying little bastard in the caravan, a man known simply as "Joe" he took a good gut-shot, followed by a giant board of nails to the head; to summarize – he looked like utter shit. Joe was clad in an old, worn-down caravaneer outfit
standard-issue to anybody in this caravan that was headed by the NCR. It had several large holes in it from the gunfire, and it was thoroughly-drenched in blood. It looked as if his death was painful… and to be honest, it was. Kiro could remember him screaming something fucking absurd as he died, presumably it was just shock-induced. He grabbed his bag, and opened it. He found several bottles of Nuka-Cola, a few bottles of clean water, and a few magazines. "Leave it to this useless bastard to not carry any fucking food." Kiro groaned. He then put the bag on the ground next to the corpse, and walks off to the next mangled body. This is the body of a female, she was the medic; her name escapes Kiro because he did not like her, she was an asshole. Her uniform could not even be determined; she was torn to shreds, she took quite some hellfire and not much was left of her corpse, but what was left looked like ground-meat. Kiro grabbed her riddled bag and small medical satchel and rooted through it, finding a handful of stimpacks, a few spent stimpacks, two rolls of gauze, and to his utter surprise… drugs, she had a small amount of Jet, Psycho, and Steady; Kiro let out a loud sigh, and thought to himself "So that's why she always seemed so goddamn shaky… good thing I never needed her services." throwing the drugs on the ground, and rooting through her bag now – he came across even more goddamn drugs, and a small can of "Cram". He smirked to himself, and chuckled; he REALLY enjoyed Cram. Kiro puts the bag down on the ground, and walks up to the next form. He was not dead, far from it – he was just badly wounded. "Ki… Kiro! Please… for the love of fuck help me…" the man cried. The man was the caravan guard, Orchard-Picard he was clad in the common NCR Bandolier Armor, complete with an old M2 Steel Helmet from over three hundred years in the past. The man was badly-wounded, taking several shots to the stomach, and his legs were an utter fucking mess, one-hundred percent destroyed. Kiro let out a loud sigh, and proclaimed "Goddamn it, Orchard. I can't help you. You know that. I was never a medic, and anyway… look at what is left of you… nobody could save you." Orchard groaned in utter pain "Then fucking kill me! I ca… I can't go on like this! I mean fuck, look at my legs! They're nearly fucking gone!" Kiro unholsters his BFR, and cocks the hammer back "You know, Orchard. I liked you… I will regret this greatly." Orchard smiled, and then that smile was extinguished after a loud *BOOM* and a short amount of light. Kiro shot him in the head. He let out a sigh, and thought to himself "I may need the supplies… but I cannot do this to him." Kiro grabbed his mangled body, and put him into a respectable position. Kiro swore loudly, and grabbed his cigarettes again. "These may kill me… but who gives a shit. I am just about as unloved as a hunk of shit drying in the sun. I would rather die from these, anyway. Knowing this shithole, if I were to die any other way; it would be utterly painful." Kiro began rooting around in his satchel for his lighter again. He found it, and pulled it out. It did not look like much, but Kiro loved the thing, and it seemed to love him back. It seemed to have a never-ending source of butane. He flipped the lid, and lights his cigarette. He took a large puff, and blew out a large amount of the cigarette back into his mouth, he walked back to his humble campsite, and sat down on the ground again. He glanced over his Pip-Boy on his left arm, and shrugged at it. It came from Vault 18, and thanks to it – he only wore one glove. But he did not mind it, he actually liked it. The thing allowed him to listen to music as he wandered. Kiro looked at his uniform, it was the uniform of the Enclave "Patriots", he wore it as a big, fat fuck-you to the Enclave Patriots that destroyed Vault 18. It was a worn-and-stained navy-blue, and had some obvious seams running along the arms and legs. The buttons, unlike the ones common to the Enclave Officer's uniform, which this uniform is based on – was tarnished silver. Kiro liked the color navy-blue, he always had. The giant "E" on his back, surrounded by stars was a bit of a put-off, but he had the materials to cover it so it would just be another giant patch of navy blue. Kiro took another puff of his cigarette, and thought to himself "I really enjoy nights like this… if it were not for another caravan under my watch getting wiped out… this would be a pretty good damn night." Kiro pulled up his Pip-boy and looked at the time. It was really late, but he still did not feel comfortable falling asleep in the middle of this more-than-likely unsafe hellhole. Kiro unhinged his belt, and took his katana off of his side. Kiro rehinged his belt, and looked over the somewhat-worn katana. The saya was covered in a hard, light brown leather and it was lined with metal. It boasted a dark-blue iaito on the end and loop for the belt-holder, the tsuki was covered in a blue iaito, and the tsuba depicted some ancient battle, one he could never know the origin of. He pulled the katana out of the saya, and gawked at the worn blade covered in dirt and blood. He took one last puff of his nearly-done-for cigarette, and flicked it on the ground. Stretching to get comfortable again Kiro's focus immediately snapped back to his katana's dirty and worn-down blade. It had small contact marks, where some poor bastard's knife clashed with his katana before his belligerent perished
at his hand. He just smirked at the katana, thinking back on all of the times it has saved his ass from getting skewered and left for dead. Kiro put the katana down next to his bedroll, and stood up yet again. He decided to change into lighter clothing, so he could relax. He was incredibly uncomfortable, it was – like it always was, painfully fucking hot. He took off his boots, and jacket; but kept the trousers on, afterwards he folded up his clothing, and put it at the foot of his improvised bed. He stretched and let out a loud sigh. Looking at his Pip-boy again, he realized it was far too late to go to sleep and not be spotted by somebody walking down the torn-to-pieces road. He decided to pack everything, and climb into an old destroyed building. He found a nice building with a difficult route up, but an easy route down and set up on a ledge with a decent view. He set up a lantern, and pulled up a small chunk of rebar-filled concrete, and sat down; leaning against the wall. "I guess I can sleep now… it would be pretty goddamn difficult to find me here…" he declared with a loud yawn. He got up and stretched, and laid down upon
his bedroll, letting out another loud yawn. Kiro fell asleep quickly after hitting the somewhat comfortable, padded bedroll. His dreams were no different tonight, from his usual dreams. They were heavy-laden with physchodelicacy, colors, vague shapes, abstract images… unusual shit, that makes people not give a shit if they have dreams. He gets up slowly, and stretches. Kiro grabs his jacket and boots, and puts them on. He slowly buttons his jacket, still drowsy. Kiro looks down at his Pip-boy, and checks the time. Kiro shrugs whenever he sees itis twelve thirty-six PM, and grabs his helmet; with a loud yawn he dons his helmet and grabs his katana, and BFR holster and hinges it to his belt. He grabs his revolver and takes out the empty cartridge from last night's… misfortune, and replaces it with another round. Looking into his satchel, he realizes he is still running low on .45-70 Gov't rounds, and still has very little food and supplies. Kiro thought to himself, and decided to root around in some old store he passed by before his caravan was destroyed to make an attempt to find more supplies which he desperately needed.
Kiro packed up his small camp, and hid it in the corner – knowing he would be back very soon to relax and attempt to eat if he could find more food than this one small can of Cram. Climbing down the same route he used to climb into this small nest, he got through the route easily – much more-so than he did to climb up. Kiro dusted himself off, and walked over to the small shopping mart and reached for the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He heard movement from within the building and unholstered his BFR and cocked the hammer back, he slowly reached for the knob again; he lightly grabbed it, and slowly turned it and to his happiness… the door was not locked. So he would not need to make a commotion to get inside. Kiro got down, and snuck around to attempt to find the source of the noise. He stopped next to the doorway, and scanned the room. It was run-down, as was everything here. Most of the shelves were tipped over, and a small Nuka-Cola vending machine was tipped over and open, full of bottles both empty and full. He decided after he could find the target, he would grab as much as he can. He returned his eyes to the room, it was scattered with rusty cans and garbage. He kept looking about… he knew he heard something. Kiro decided to sneak through the store quietly and attempt to find the thing, or person that made the noise so he can go on with his gathering.
Kiro set off down the non-obstructed isles, and saw a dirty bastard, wearing garbage. The bastard was obviously a Raider. He reeked of death, and Kiro was about to end his life. The NCR warned him of the dangers here. One of which would be these raiders, dirty, shittily-clad human garbage, that loves nothing more than anarchy and drugs. Kiro kept sneaking down upon him, making no noise what-so-ever. But then… his katana hit an empty can, and the Raider must have been utterly distracted, or high out of his mind… either way, he was about to have no head. So it did not matter, Kiro kept closing down upon him, and finally he was right behind him. Kiro stood up silently, and aimed the match-barrel at the lower-most part of his skull, where the spine meets the skull; and pulled the trigger. The Raider slumped over the counter he was standing next to, Kiro immediate dropped down to his pockets, and began rooting through them in an attempt to find supplies or food on his person, then he adverted his attention to the matted and raggedy old backpack, and roots through it as well. Kiro found plenty of food, more-than-enough to sustain him for several weeks, and a small amount of Medical supplies, most of which was dirty. To the point of it being absolutely foolish to use it. On his way out, he turned to the Nuka-Cola machine, and took all of the full bottles and went on his way. His satchel was overflowing with food and Cola. Just the way he liked it. Kiro holstered his revolver and was making his way out whenever he heard speaking. "Shit! There must be more goddamned Raiders in this fucking place…" he thought to himself. Kiro unholstered his revolver yet again, and removed the spent cartridge from his earlier meeting with a Raider, and loaded it with another round. Kiro only had ten more .45-70 Gov't rounds. But he was sure to keep all of the spent cartridges. Kiro closed the chamber and cocked the hammer and removed his satchel. Kiro began sneaking through the store again, he saw the two Raiders standing over the corpse of the one Kiro shot. Both kept calling the now-dead Raider "Ezekiel" Kiro chuckled to himself and the fact that people of the intelligence and civility as a Raider would have such eloquent and reformed names. Kiro immediately shook this from his thoughts and went on towards the unsuspecting Raiders. Kiro managed to avoid
being spotted, and got on the side of the two Raiders. He decided to be unique with it. He holstered hisrevolver and then his hand went to his katana, and he grabbed the tsuba and began to unsheathe it quietly, shortly after Kiro immediately jumped up and charged the two Raiders – he loudly screamed "Tenno-heika Banzai! Kogeki! Rrraaaaaggghhhh!" (The vault's Holotapes had recordings of narrations about Japan from some old war… he can remember this being one of the things they screamed as a terrifying war cry.) and he cut the arm of one of the now-shocked Raiders off, and blood spurted out while the Raider crumpled to the ground screaming in agony and pain. The other Raider drew his old, worn-down 9mm Handgun and aimed it at Kiro. The Raider fired at him, but missed pathetically. He must have been utterly terrified. Kiro skewered the Raider with his katana, impaling him through his rib-cage. This had a lot less blood, but far more pain. The Raider screamed obscenities at Kiro, and dropped his handgun now focusing on the blade driven through his chest. His breathing became labored, and shallower. The Raider looked into the helmet of Kiro, and saw himself dying. The Raider gasped another empty threat and obscenity towards Kiro, and perished. The other Raider was in the corner, holding his shoulder and crying. It was obvious this Raider meant no harm to him, or anyone else anymore. Kiro crouched down to his eye-level, and caught his attention. The Raider looked up to him, and said blatantly; "I swear to fucking God… my friends will find you, and eat your fucking heart… you fucking monster." Kiro chuckled and stood up and kicked the fuck out of the Raider's shoulder. The Raider cried out in utter pain, no-longer grasping his shoulder he was now reaching down for the fallen 9mm with his one good arm. Kiro smiled, and stomped on his hand. The Raider let out another cry of utter pain. It looked like he was going to black out. Kiro crouched back down to eye-level with the Raider. "I, you piece of shit… am not the monster here. Look at yourself. You're a piece of shit. I would not even spit in your general direction. I will show you mercy. If you live feel free to tell your other piece-of-shit friends about what happened here. So be it. I'll fucking kill them, too. Do you know what? I WANT you to tell them. Tell them of what happened here. I want you to. I adore a good fight." Kiro stoops over, and picks up the 9mm; dismantling it, and throwing the slide, firing pin, firing spring, trigger mechanism, and clip across the room in random places across the store. The Raider looks back up at Kiro and coughs, then goes on to say "I will tell all of my friends. They will hunt you down…" his speech is interrupted by a loud cough "…and I will fucking see to it you die painfully… you piece of fucking shit…" Kiro nods, and chuckles then proceeds to walk out of the store. He stops at the door, and grabs his satchel. Smiling, Kiro knew the Raider would never live to warn his friends, and he would be out of a nice gunfight with a few strung-out shits. He walked back to his small camp set up inside of the ruins of that building, and put his satchel full of food and supplies down on the ground next to his bedroll, and began organizing everything. He found six cobs of fresh maize, a bag of dried apples, three cans of Pork n' Beans, two more cans of Cram to add to the one he already owned, six bottles of Nuka-Cola, two boxes of Atomic Gum Drops, and four boxes of Potato Crisps. He chuckled as he thought to himself "TonightI feast like a king!" and he followed that thought with "Bah. What a shitty joke…" Kiro pushed his helmet over his mouth, and scratched his chin. He sat back down on the small rebar-and-cement chair, and pulled up a dirty-looking bottle of Nuka-Cola, and opened the cap on the chunk of cement hanging off of some rebar in the wall, and drunk down a little of it. His helmet fell down back over his mouth and Kiro let out a soft "Fuck" and took off his helmet, and drank the bottle until it was nearly-empty. He stood up and gawked at the street below, and sees his old Raider friend walking down the road. "Well. It looks like he lived!" Kiro laughed, "It looks like I may just get that fight I was looking for!" Kiro smiled to himself, and went back to his bottle of Cola. He swigged down the last of it, and grabbed his helmet again. He looked at his reflection in the helmet, and smiled at his large sideburns that he sports so well underneath his helmet. Kiro ran his hand through his shaggy sideburns, and smirked, thinking to himself, "I like these things. Others may not, but fuck em'. These are some goddamn-fine sideburns." Kiro took off his belt and rested it on a piece of rebar protruding out of the wall, and watched it dangle. He reached for his revolver, and pulled it out of the old worn leather holster. Kiro rooted around inside of his dirty leather satchel and pulled out a small maintenance kit, and began working away at the damage on his revolver. He took the restraining pin out of the revolver, and put the chamber to the side of him, and began cleaning the barrel with a small wire-bristle brush and knocked all of the dust buildup out of the barrel, as it sprinkled down he frowned and said "Fucking filthy place. I am surprised ANYONE'S firearms can function well in these conditions." He grabbed a small bottle of multi-purpose gun oil, and dismantled the firing mechanism, oiling the trigger mechanism, and then removing the custom-build hammer, and oiled it as well, putting all of the pieces back into place. Kiro grabbed the chamber for his revolver and ran a wire-brush through that as well after removing all of his rounds. He fit the chamber back into the housing, and placed the restraining pin back into its proper housing. He grabbed a small bottle of solution and begins polishing the frame and chambers. After a few minutes of working away at the grime of the wastes, he smiled at the nice sheen the revolver put off. He smiled and chuckled whenever he heard the name of it while looking through some old holotapes in Vault 18. Magnum Research, Big-Frame Revolver (BFR) often dubbed "Big Fucking Revolver" after seeing that, he knew that he needed one. Kiro picked an awful chambering, though. The .45-70 Gov't Round is so rare, he may as well just scavenge up another chambering in .30-30 Winchester. "Maybe give myself more of a fighting chance with finding ammunition." He thought to himself. "This would not be an issue if there would be a goddamned Gun Runner's somewhere around here. But this goddamned place is like a third-world shithole. Well…more-so than any other place here." Kiro concluded to himself. He let out a loud sigh, and said softly "I am beyond fucking bored… I guess I can listen to some music, and just relax. I am sure I am fine, for now… I should keep quiet, though. This area is far too dangerous to party about here." Kiro poked around on his Pip-boy, and accessed the Radio portion of his Pip-boy. He saw two stations… Enclave Radio. Kiro frowned, and almost took off his Pip-boy… but he shrugged, and continued navigating the radio panel. Kiro came across another station, "Galaxy News Radio" Kiro smiled and thought to himself "I may as well listen to this… I was trying to make my way there, anyway before my goddamned caravan was dashed upon the rocks of the dirty shore known as the Wasteland." Kiro tuned into Galaxy News Radio, and the flamboyant radio personality let out a loud wolf-like howl, and declared his name proudly. "Hooooowwwwwwwllll! My name is Three-daaawg!" Kiro remembered the name, he was the buyer of the order, and before the caravan was destroyed, Three-Dog and the Brotherhood of Steel ordered quite a lot of Energy-weapons. Laser Rifles, Laser Pistols, Plasma Pistols, Plasma Defenders, Plasma Casters… but the supplies were destroyed in the firefight, or stolen by those big fucking asshole mutants. He was so upset now, remembering his caravan perished for no reason, thathe was not even paying attention to the radio, which was playing one of his favorite songs, "Fly Me to the Moon" sung by Frank Sinatra. He immediately flushed his thoughts out, and began singing loudly and clearly. Kiro was always happy whenever listening to music, it had a calming effect upon him. Kiro grabbed a box of Potato Crisps, and opened it and pulled out the contents and began eating awayat them slowly, savoring the salty, somewhat bland taste; enjoying himself with great music. He grabbed another bottle of Nuka-Cola, and opened it on the same chunk of cement as the first bottle, and takes a long, drawn-out swig. He puts the bottle on the ground, and keeps indulging himself on chips.
After his somewhat-satisfactory meal, Kiro grabbed the garbage and threw it down
the hole that leads to his campsite. He checked his Pip-boy for the time, while paying little mind to the radio. It was five twenty-six PM, fairly late. He shrugged, and grabbed his belt off of his rebar rack and wrapped the belt around his waist, again. He clasped the belt, then picked up his revolver off of the improvised stool, and walked back onto the street. The corpses from his caravan were gone, he can only presume the Super Mutants came back to take away the corpses of his fellow workers. He saw long trails of blood, and the spatter of blood from his friend. He sighed and continued along the crimson path. He wanted revenge. He wanted those fucking monsters to pay. He looked at the streaks of blood on the mangled cement, tracing them like a hound; tracking his kill. Kiro saw were the crimson trail ended. Directly in-front of a huge sky-scraper, it was a giant twisted mass of concrete, rebar, and metal beams. He cocked the hammer of his revolver back, and snuck into the giant doorway made by the Super Mutants. Compared to other Super Mutants, these had a bit more intelligence. Making shelter inside of a destroyed building. It must have saved them quite a lot of work in the long-run. Kiro frowned as he entered, seeing bags of gore and flesh lining the walls. He stepped in a giant pool of freshly pooled blood. This must have been one of his fellow caravaneers. The blood is fresh, more-so than anything else. Kiro leaned on a wall, and shook his leg to remove some of the blood off of his dirty black boots. He continued on inside of the den, he recalled the minigun armed Super Mutants being badly-wounded. Kiro felt as if he had a fighting chance inside of this den of death and carnage.
Kiro continued along inside of the building, the first area he checked was a giant
crater, left by the building's formation collapsing into the basement. He saw one Super Mutant, doing imbecilic shit to his gun. It seemed as if he was just hammering away at it with a sledgehammer. Fucking moronic bastards. He stood up, and walked quietly behind the giant bastard. He aimed his revolver at that same sweet-spot as before with the Raider, and pulled the trigger. With a satisfying retort from his hand cannon, and a loud grunt from the Super Mutant, he slumped over his table and gun, crushing both. Kiro turned around to begin walking out of the crater, but stopped in his tracks. He heard a Super Mutant lumbering himself into the room, Kiro jumped and hid behind a chunk of the foundation of the building. The Super Mutant must have been blind, he did not notice Kiro, he waddled directly past him. On his way out, Kiro drew his katana, and cut his leg clean off in one fell swoop. The Super Mutant screamed in utter agony, and he kicked him over cocking the hammer back on his revolver and blasting his brains onto the mangled concrete floor. Kiro sheathed his katana, and cocked the hammer of his revolver yet again. He continued on throughout the mangled building. He came across another Super Mutant, this one surprisingly playing around with a Stealth Boy. Kiro cleared his throat loudly, and intentionally. The hulking figure turned around, and grabbed a large board with nails in it. Kiro aimed his revolver at his upper-forearm, and pulled the trigger. With a loud retort from his revolver, the Super Mutant dropped the giant plank, and screamed in agony. His forearm must be destroyed. Kiro holstered his revolver, and unsheathed his katana yet again. He charged towards the wounded Super Mutant and slashed at his legs, one fell off, the other took a deep laceration. The bastard collapsed to the ground and Kiro kicked the mutant over. Kiro decided to be theatric, even if nobody was watching. He stood over the mutant, and declared loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear him "I am Kiro, the Faceless! I am a harbinger of death, a dealer in pain and agony! A dark avenger!" the Super Mutant stared up at the small navy-blue clad human, utterly shocked. (And probably confused. It seems as if the hulking green bastard had the same firm grasp upon English as the inbred mutants far to the south.)Kiro started up again, "I show no mercy, those whom encounter me do the same! If I am to perish! I shall perish avenging the innocents of Vault 18! The people of "Lucky Loads"! The people of "Dark Trails"! All innocents to perish in my lifetime… all those I have known, and loved." His deep voice boomed throughout the concrete mega-structure. He held his katana high above his head, posed to stab down into the head of the Super Mutant. He continued on again, "You shall be one of the first to pay! You area piece of garbage, I shall extinguish you in your prime – as you and your kind has done to the people of "Dark Trails"!" The katana landed home at its target, clanking loudly as it tore through the Super Mutant's already-mangled helmet, and making a loud appealing contact-noise as it was driven through his head. Kiro stomped on the monster's neck, and pulled the katana out of his head. His loud theatric speech attracted another Super Mutant. This one unarmed, but just as dangerous as the others. The mutant let out a loud, earth-shaking yell "RRRAAAAAGGGHHH! ME CRUSH HUMAN, THAT CRUSH ME FRIEND!" Kiro readied his katana, the enraged Super Mutant readied his hands into an overhead axe-hammer strike. Kiro held his katana above his head in a blocking-like motion he picked up from many holotapes, and charged the mutant that delivered his blow. He howled in pain as his fist clashed with the katana, he nearly cleaved his own hand in half. Kiro readied his katana in his own special strike he thought up while on the trails. He let out a loud yell, and held his katana backwards with one hand and struck the Super Mutant in the stomach, then swept back and cleaved his forearm in half. Blood spurted out of his arm, and the mutant screamed in agony, and doubled-over. Kiro readied an overhead strike aimed for the Super Mutant's head, and swung down onto his target. The katana barreled through his neck and head, leaving a deep laceration. The mutant crumpled to the ground. Kiro's katana was now painted crimson from the blood and death. It gleamed eerily in the setting sun through the large cracks and holes in the walls of the once-great superstructure. Kiro glided the blade through his gloved-hand, clearing off a large portion of the blade, and he sheathed it. It settled into the saya with a slight scraping noise, and a low clank. Kiro checked each corpse for ammo and supplies. He found a few boxes of .45-70 Gov't Rounds they must have recovered off of the caravan's supplies. Kiro chuckled to himself after checking each bloodied-and-dead mutant for supplies. As he left he thought to himself "Well… that was fun… I am glad I did the theatrics. Who gives a shit if the only thing that heard it was a dying mutant, and a pissed mutant. I guarantee myself it was horrifying for everything involved." Kiro looked back at the bags of gore and death, and let out a sigh. He did not like the idea that his friend was in one of those bags, but he did not want to root through that fucking mess just to recover somebody's corpse. Kiro thought to himself as he was walking back to his small campsite, "I would never avenge everybody, I have no reason to do-so. I hated most of those bastards in Vault 18, and most hated me, and I do not care what happened to those "Lucky Loads" caravaneers. They were afraid of me, or did not like me. Likewise for "Dark Trails". I will miss Orchard, however. He was always a very good friend, very loyal." Kiro shrugged, and climbed back into the route to his humble setup and got ready to settle-in for the night. It was around eight PM, he did not need to check his Pip-boy for the time.
Kiro was weary whenever he sat down on his improvised stool. He let out
a loud yawn, and unbuttoned his jacket. He grabbed a bottle of water from his satchel and took a drink putting the cap back onto the bottle, and put the bottle onto the floor next to his bedroll. He took off his jacket and folded it neatly, placing it next to his bedroll. He let out another loud yawn, and he took off his blood-covered helmet, and rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled whenever he glanced at his bedroll. After the events of the day, he wanted nothing more than to lay down, and go to bed. But he needed to eat just a bit before settling in to go to bed. He grabbed a can of Cram, and stabbed it with a small knife he kept in his bag, he pried open the can and began eating the somewhat bland pork by-product. While it was not incredibly tasty, it was filling and that was all that really mattered. He grabbed his bottle of water, which he could have sworn just got dirtier. He frowned and swore at the bottle yet again, and gulped down what was left of it. Kiro let out a little cough, and plopped down onto his bedroll, ready for his first true night of sleep. Kiro turned in at nine PM.
Yet again, Kiro's dreams were heavily riddled with the most undecipherable things
to ever cross anybody's mind. But this time, he dreamed of a woman… the same age as Kiro. They werein a small, beautiful (Beautiful compared to the wastes) field. It was heavy-laden with flowers, and overgrowth, but it was pleasant. The girl had the same general disposition as Kiro, but he cannot recall her name, if she even said her name. The dream was spotty, and Kiro could not even recall the dream in its entirety. Just that it involved an incredibly familiar woman. Kiro woke up at six forty-seven AM, and sat up slowly. He let out a long sigh, he could never remember the woman's name, or even what they would discuss… be he always enjoyed those dreams thoroughly. Kiro let out a loud yawn, and looked through the hole in his camp's wall. He saw a large group of loud Raiders. About fifteen of them, and at the helm, was Kiro's dear friend that he disarmed (Both metaphorically, and literally), calling for his blood. His shoulder was heavily-bandaged, but blood seeped through it. The Raiders referred to this badly-wounded Raider as simply "Cap'n". Kiro laughed at the absurdity of that name, but presumed his ACTUAL name could have been tenfold worse. Kiro realized the severity of this situation, he grabbed his jacket and belt, and quickly donned his helmet and jacket and belt. Kiro bolts from his camp, and sneaks around to find cover, the Raider's yells started to bore into Kiro's nerves. He started getting nervous. He knew it just took one mistake to get himself killed, and he was not willing to make this mistake. He darted from place-to-place to maintain cover. He had to determine how well-armed these bastards were. He noted most just had melee weapons, sledgehammers, swords made of car bumpers, golf clubs, and baseball bats. Some were armed well, carrying Plasma Rifles, Laser RCW's, FN-FAL Rifles, worn-down Chinese Assault Rifles, low-caliber Varmint Rifles, and .357-calibered Colt Polices. As he darted up again, one of the Raiders spotted him and yelled "OY' THERE HE IS! KILL THAT BASTARD!"Kiro knew he was now doomed to a gunfight, he may not win.
[END OF CHAPTER ONE]