"You can't out-master the master, y'know."

A soft, almost melodic thumping sounded near her ears. Rain pattering against the ruins of the roof or her own stubborn heartbeat, Remi couldn't tell. There seemed to be only one thing she was sure of in this moment and that was that he had found her. Within the walls of this sturdy church, the only place she'd ever felt safe, he had found her.

Damn it all.

"What is it?" he spat. Remi tried to focus on his figure, but in the shadows where he stood, she could only make out a pair of cerulean pools narrowed in a fierce glare. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

Glancing past him, she searched the darkness desperately for the filthy backpack she called her own. Somewhere back there, somewhere along with the rubble and dust, was her backpack full of junk she'd taken from him not even a day prior. "Didn't think a couple packs of cigarettes and a dozen caps could mean so much to someone," Remi commented bitterly, wincing at the duct tape around her wrists. It felt as if it was ripping away her skin little by little every time she so much as shifted her weight even an inch.

Remi's generous captor, who hadn't hesitated to use more duct tape than usual when he'd ambushed her, let out an irritated scoff and turned his back to her. "Habit I can't kick, I guess," he muttered almost too softly for her to hear. Without a second thought, he yanked the backpack from the ground, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the door, kicking aside anything he found in his path.

"Wait! Wait!" she called, awkwardly stomping her bound feet against the wooden floor. One hand on the archway, he slowed to a stop and looked on the brown-eyed girl cautiously, as if she could actually cause any harm with her limbs bound. "You're just going to leave me here?!"

Peering away, he took a moment to feign a thought. "Hm...yep."

Anger flared through Remi. It was one thing to have the items she rightfully stole to be stolen back, but having the thief leave her for dead was a whole other insult. "Give me your name, asshat," she growled, trying to work her sweat to her advantage against the duct tape. "That way I know who I'm looking for once I get out of here."

The sound of his laughter echoing off the walls did nothing but add to her ire. "Didn't think a couple packs of cigarettes and a dozen caps could mean so much to someone," he answered in what she could only surmise was a high-pitched, half-assed shot at her own voice. Then, in a tone of his own, he added, "The name's MacCready. See you when you come for me." Something about the way he said it gave away that he didn't expect to see Remi ever again.

MacCready had appeared like a ghost and he disappeared like one, as well.

Remi waited for what felt like hours for the crunching of his feet against the debris to quiet. In the meantime, she let out a relieved sigh. The rain (or her heartbeat – she still couldn't put her finger on it) had silenced. Once she was surrounded with nothing but the sound of her own breathing, she lashed out into a series of rage-induced flails against the tape. No matter how hard she rubbed her ankles together, or tried to pull her wrists apart, the tape held strong. Biting down hard on her bottom lip to hold back the shrieks of frustration, Remi ground the tape hard against her belt. Surely it had to catch on a piece of metal. If not, well, she thought, she was screwed.

If only she'd chosen to just go home instead of making a pit stop at the church, MacCready wouldn't have found her. For the first time in so long, she'd allowed herself to become careless. In the Commonwealth, careless was something you couldn't afford to be. She'd just gotten lucky enough that MacCready had found her to buy herself some time. Just how in the hell did he find her?

When Remi had stumbled upon him at the Boston Public Library, his snores had been so loud that she found herself genuinely surprised that he hadn't been killed yet. Had she been a Raider, his days would've ended right then and there. Fortunately for him, she wasn't.

In defeat, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, twitching slightly at the pieces of paint flaking off into her hair. When she'd chopped it all off a month ago, she realized just how freeing it was. She felt everything that touched her neck and ears now, including the brisk cold air. As she'd watched the chucks of blonde locks fall into the sink, it was as if she was cutting off the darkest parts of her. With a chuckle of disbelief, Remi settled her eyes on the skeletal remains of the minister at the front of the church. What an honor to die alongside someone who once may have sought hope where she did, she thought. It was ironic, really, that she was going to spend her last breaths here.

The main door creaked open and, for a split second, Remi accepted that her last breath was coming much sooner than she'd realized. As her heartbeat quickened, the absolute worst came to mind: Raiders, Super Mutants, Ghouls. But then, an almost familiar capped head poked out from around the corner and a groan of annoyance rumbled from her lips.

"Not you again," Remi whined. "Haven't you done enough damage?"

MacCready casually made his way over and stood directly over her for a moment before dropping down into a crouch. In the uncomfortable silence they shared, Remi couldn't tell if he was flaunting her backpack or deciding what he was going to do next. Then, as if nothing had happened between them, he brought his gaze down to her feet and back up to her face.

"What's your name?" he asked as if the two had been strangers that passed each other too often to not know each other's names.

Being eye level with him for so long gave Remi more than enough time to really get a good look at him. A chiseled jawline, narrow nose, and dark russet hair curling out from underneath his cap. MacCready looked as if he'd been through enough wars to last a lifetime; his piercing eyes seemed so tired, but everything else about him made her think that he couldn't have been more than a year or two older than her.

"Eat dick and die."

MacCready bowed his head, hiding the slight of his snicker. "I'm trying to help you out here, y'know," he mumbled after his shoulders stopped trembling. Then, as quick as lightening, the tip of a switchblade was to Remi's throat, pressing just hard enough to make it feel as though her heart had plummeted to her ass. "What," he whispered, glowering upward at the trembling girl, "is your name?"

At first, she couldn't remember, for the life of her, her own damned name. After twenty years of being called the same thing, you'd think it would stick in times of crisis. "I-I don't-" The sharp pain of the blade forced her to rethink her next choice of words. "Remi," she exhaled. "I'm Remi."

"Remi," MacCready repeated slowly as the point of the blade shrank back from her skin. She swore she could still feel it against her. Before she could realize it, the duct tape had been cut from her ankles and ripped off her skin. The pain and itchiness didn't hit until a few seconds later. "All right, Remi, let's go. On your feet." Paying absolutely no attention to her stutters of protest, he reached behind her, grabbed the back of her sweatshirt, and roughly yanked her from the ground. For a scrawny guy, he sure had some power in his arms.

"Where are we going?" Remi demanded to know, pushing back against MacCready as he pushed her forward toward the doors. "Hey, quit shoving me, damn it! At least take that with us! Its the only weapon I have." Jutting her chin toward her crowbar leaning against the wall not far from where she had sat, she dug her heels into the soft part of the flooring, hoping it was moist enough to collapse the wood.

Sighing heavily in annoyance, MacCready, keeping one hand securely curled in her clothing, reached over and grabbed the dirty metal. "This thing looks like its been through hell and back," he commented, nudging her toward the door.

"It has. Where are we going?" She didn't feel the need to struggle against him any longer; there was really nothing she could do. Her hands were tied and he carried the only weapon she knew how to use. Instead, Remi kept her stride in front of him, pausing only when he opened the door for her. Only then did she notice the height he had on her. Him being a good foot and a half taller than her only set her thoughts in stone that, as the way things were, she really had no chance against him. Even if she tried to run, well...he did sport a sniper rifle on his back.

"That depends," MacCready answered curtly. "Where are you from?"

"Oh no," Remi responded, twisting her body roughly so that he had no choice but to let go.

She stood facing him, taking a quick second to focus on the large, white sign of the church. Surely at one point it had to say something, but years of damage and storms had worn the black letters down to nothing but "Hol...Mis...on...Congr...tion." When Remi turned her attention back to MacCready, she noticed he'd been staring her down, waiting for some snippy comment.

"Its so you can steal all my shit, right?" she prodded, lifting herself onto her toes so slowly that she hoped he wouldn't notice. The height really made a difference; something about taller people had always intimidated her and MacCready was one person she didn't want to feel that way about. "Well, I don't think so. I'm not taking you back with me."

"You sure do cuss a lot, don't you?" MacCready deadpanned. He wasn't hiding the fact that he was more than tired of her mouth, but it sure did make her feel better about their situation. "Look, I'm going to give you two choices. One, you can tell me where you came from and nobody dies, or two, you can not tell me and I leave you just as you are, and you might die out here. So, go ahead and pick."

He had a point. He had the advantage over her, so if she had any hopes of staying alive, she had to agree with what he wanted. For now. "Fine," Remi spat, turning on her heel. "Diamond City. Unless you know your way around, you'd better follow me."

When she peeked back over her shoulder, she expected MacCready to had ditched the scene with everything she tried to steal and her crowbar. Instead, he stood there silently, his eyes locked on something over her head. Before she even had a chance to turn back around to see what he was staring at, he curled his fingers around her forearm and started sprinting.

"What the hell?!" Remi shouted, struggling to keep up with him as she avoided the random pieces of trash and rubble in the streets. "Slow down! Your legs are a shit ton longer than mine, MacCready!"

"Shh!" he hissed as they rounded a dented, rusted car. "Shut up for three seconds! Get down!"

Crouching behind the car, MacCready released her, dropped the backpack to the ground, and grabbed for his sniper. "What's going on?!" Remi whispered. She could barely hear herself over her heavy breathing and the sound of her heart hammering away in her ears. She wanted so badly to peer over the top of the car, but the look on his face shot down those urges. If she thought he was upset before, man, she thought, was she in for a surprise.

"I see humans over here!"

The voice couldn't have belonged to a human. It was much too gruff and deep, even for a grown man. Remi's stomach churned painfully in fear as MacCready propped himself on the hood of the car and squinted through the sights of his sniper. She eyed her crowbar that he had somehow hooked around a piece of rope tied to his waist.

MacCready opened his mouth, closed it, and returned to his crouch at her side. "Super Mutants," he breathed, opening the chamber of his gun to count his bullets.

"How many?"

"I lost count at fifteen."