A.N.: This story is a collaborative effort between myself and a new partner, the plan is for this to be a fairly long one but no update schedule has been ironed out yet. That will come soon depending on popularity but without any further delay, here's the story.

Edit: Now with character labels. Neato!

It was another balmy day in the Capital Wasteland, the desolate quiet broken only by the occasional gunshot or animal, and one man. The man was alone, trudging along at a slow pace to the North and stopping every few minutes to scan the area around him. The scene was not an uncommon one in the Wasteland, many people would attempt to adventure or strike fortune and would almost always come to the inevitable conclusion of death. This man was cut from a slightly different cloth, his path had no higher or nobler purpose than exploration and occupation. The relative calm of the day was fleeting however, for the quiet was to be interrupted with violent punctuality.

Sam-

Dirt and sand, all I could see for at least a couple of miles in any direction was the same dirt and sand. I had been walking for the better part of five hours and had nothing to show for it, at this point I was getting bored. Looking down I saw that my watch claimed that it was early afternoon and sighed. Looks like another useless day, how quaint. Well, I should probably start heading back so I can feel bad about myself and do it all again tomorrow, and the day after that. Maybe I can take a break one day and give alcohol another go, decisions aplenty.

I reached for my canteen and was broken from my thoughts by a crack, years of experience immediately recognized it as gunfire. I pivoted towards the source, only to hear it again and again. Rifle fire, South by Southeast, medium range, not aimed at me. I unslung and shouldered my rifle and began a light jog off in the direction of the shots, wondering if some suicidal flavor of boredom was influencing my actions. After a good 30 seconds or so I heard more shots, different this time, return fire of some flavor. I crested a small hill and saw the source of the commotion, there was a tent which had since collapsed as well as one figure taking solace behind a large rock. The figure was surrounded by four others, there were also two bodies on the ground and a lot of gunfire being exchanged.

I dropped down into a prone position, aiming at the current dispute and went through a quick survey of the surroundings. I estimated the distance as 400 yards, give or take 50, and got a rough windage from the tatters of what was once a flag hanging above a building a couple hundred yards beyond the firefight. Looking into my scope I could accurately see the figures, the surrounded figure was a young woman and she was being assailed by a group of petty raiders. Well, I lucked out today. Raiders are always a fun example for target practice, being the nice person and saving someone is just a neat bonus. I levelled my crosshairs on the first raider in the line and went through the ingrained and well oiled shooting routine that I'd practiced hundreds of times. Aim, Exhale, Squeeze.

The first raider's head exploded into a shower of gore, covering the man next to him in a shower of brain matter and blood. This caused the man to freeze, turning to where the shot had rung out. All this accomplished was making the next shot even easier, the next shot rang out only a second after the last and entered at the bridge of the raider's nose. The raider fell with the back side of his head a distant memory, the remaining two were confused and unsure as to which target they should focus on. This hesitation cost them their lives; the third raider fell when a bullet entered his eye socket and painted the usual browns and greens of the wasteland a vibrant red while the fourth was shot down by the woman's pistol. The entire engagement had lasted less than 15 seconds and left 6 men dead.

I cycled the last empty casing from my rifle and stood, walking down to the site of the carnage. I reloaded as I walked and then slung the rifle across my back, careful to undo the ties of my holster to be ready if this mystery woman ended up being less than friendly. I was in no hurry, it took a couple of minutes to cover the distance and when I looked up from my boots I was greeted by the sight of a brunette of slightly lower than average height who filled out her fairly threadbare clothing quite well and had an expression that no one could call remotely amused. Jesus man, you have to get out more. Just met this random girl and already you're checking her out, shit. I stopped at a distance of about 10 yards, hands away from any weapons or any threatening gestures and cleared my throat. "So, how's our resident damsel in distress? Didn't catch your name with the whole saving you thing. You are?"

Rose-

"Damsel in distress? I had everything under control, I didn't need some random asshole's help." I muttered in annoyance, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You wound me, I am merely a traveler who just happened to come along at your hour of need." I couldn't help the sharp retort that came out.

"Hour of need? Everything was fine, I had them right where I wanted them."

"You were hiding behind a rock surrounded by four men and they were advancing each time you paused to reload. Seems pretty needy to me."

"Well, who are you to judge? I had a plan! And it didn't involve some half ass knight in shredded cloth. "

"Shredded cloth? I'll have you know that my armor is far better than the tatters you're wearing, you merely have no taste. My armor is only the finest brahmin leather, meticulously cleaned and shipped from overseas in a massive cruise ship with naval escort." I rolled my eyes, out of every survivor in the Wasteland, I got sent this clown as some kind of sanctifying grace to save my ass.

"Well then, if you've got the 'finest' Brahmin leather, you must be known throughout the Wasteland. So how come I don't know you?" I questioned as I leaned against the rock I had been pinned against moments before.

" I am our intrepid explorer, noble be my heart and goal, except when I'm drunk. I'm Samuel."

"Hmm... I see, nice to meet you Sammy." I said, running my tongue across my bottom lip, looking Samuel up and down. He stood tall at about six feet, maybe a little more give or take. His shoulders were broad, seemed to have a bit of a bulk to them, only the result of the harsh Wasteland. Not too bad, for an ass that is. Wouldn't hurt to clean up a bit, but out here, clean isn't a word commonly used. His hair was a dark brown, like dark chocolate, and it was short length wise. Mostly to decrease the chance of it being grabbed, to eliminate any weaknesses. What a shame too... I like hair that you can grab... I was brought out of my treacherous thoughts by him making some sort of noise, talking. That's what he was doing.

"It's Samuel or Sam, and if you've sufficiently eye-fucked me I think you still need to tell me your name." I rolled my eyes. Cocky too huh?

"You wish Sammy. And out here I go by many names, but most call me Rose." I blew the hair out of my face, noticing the smug smirk on Samuel's face.

"Rose, huh? Where's the nice sunny disposition and tenderness?"

"Every rose has its thorns, you ought to be careful, never know when you'll get hurt."

"Oh, how sweet, you worry." I sighed and shook my head, this guy is exasperating.

Pushing off the rock I walked to the nearest raider, kicking his limp body to force him to roll over. I nodded my head, gesturing to the raiders whose brains now painted the ground, "Those three are yours. You killed 'em, you loot 'em."

Bending down I ripped the shirt off the nearest raider. His hair was black and long, it was a bird's nest of tangles and knots. I patted him down, retrieving any ammo, bottle caps, cigarettes, basically anything useful and piled them by the rock. Although, while I was repeating the process with the second raider, Samuel's voice rang through the silence as he voiced a question.

"So what are you doing out here?"

"Does it really matter?" I answered finding a combat knife on the raider, at least this one is in better shape than my old one.

"Well, seeing as how you nearly got murdered by a bunch of retards with rifles sitting around here it seems like a valid question."

"You see that flag out there? I'm planning to scavenge the building, hopefully find something useful."

"I don't know how much you'd find, half the building has caved in and the other half seems pretty eager to join its twin on the ground."

"It's still worth a shot, I mean what do I have to lose?"

"If you want to go on a suicide mission, be my guest. If you do find something, where are you going to go? Got a place to live?"

I looked around, spotting the shreds of tent on the ground. "Well I had a tent..."

"A tent? No permanent housing? Impressive."

Crossing my arms, I cocked my hip, "Yeah it was, why do you care?"

"I've been around enough and slept in enough tents and on the ground to know it's not enough. Look, I recently... acquired... a house in Megaton and you can stay there until you get your shit sorted." Around enough? He barely looks twenty.

"I thank you for the offer, quite a large request for someone I just met. And well... What do you mean by acquired?"

"That's a secret for me to know and you to never find out. Are you going to accept the offer?"

"I guess, anywhere is better than camping out here another day. I swear if I have to deal with another mole rat in the dark I'll go crazy..."

"I suppose that it's decided then, Megaton's this way."

I quickly gathered my loot from the ground and turned to see Samuel walking off. "Damn..." I muttered. Full of sass, made with class, and sure has one hell of an ass.