And now for something completely different. Also known as "Dogma writes a story that has nothing to do with Team Fortress 2."
Prologue: In which the Ex-Lone Wanderer contemplates death from a closet, and generally curses a lot.
"Fucking, fuck, shit!" The man cursed, holding his injured arm to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He crouched on the dank floor of a utility closet in some nameless fleshed-out building, recuperating in the stillness of the moment. Honestly he hadn't expected them all at once—countless numbers of muties had poured into the double doors of the entrance, pushing him back further and further and draining his supplies so rapidly that he'd been forced to retreat and hide in this fucking hole. There were not enough expletives in all of the Capitol Wasteland to express how pissed he was right now. To make matters worse, his left arm was crippled and he was fairly sure that Dogmeat was dead. He'd told the dog to run, to escape and flee to the Vault, but he couldn't be sure if his canine companion even got out of the building alive. His arm stung, reminding him of his own current plight. Experimentally, Jayne tried to flex his left arm, and hissed as pain shot straight through it like lightening. Shrapnel from a stray frag grenade had lodged itself all throughout his arm, severing muscles and cracking bone where it dug deep enough.
The thing looked worse than ground Brahmin meet.
"Four Stimpacks left. Not good," Jayne mused to no one in particular. He would need every one of them just to get out of this place alive, and he debated whether or not to use one to heal his crippled arm, or simply leave the thing to flop uselessly and save the Stimpacks for when he was closer to death. He would not have brought so few if he'd known this place was such a mutant hotspot. He damned himself for being so careless and picked a few pieces of lead out of his arm. Ultimately he decided it would probably be more beneficial to have the use of his arm, and grit his teeth as he injected said arm with one of the Stimpacks. Immediately the shrapnel was forced from his arm, and he watched with little interest as the skin knit itself back together and re-formed unblemished, as if there had never been an injury at all. Though he wasn't sure of the exact inner workings of Stimpacks, Jayne was acutely familiar of their effects; He'd used more than his fair share. However, despite the number of times he made use of the small medical devices, the sting of the injection never dulled. And the healing process never changed.
Now that his arm had ceased throbbing so badly, Jayne considered his prospects. He had three frag grenades left, and his ammunition supply was low for all weapons save for his Laser Pistol, which had a surplus of power cells available. Unfortunately, the pistol was next to useless against Super Mutants, and it was also damaged so severely that continuing to fire it could cause it to backfire. His shotgun had twelve bullets left, his sniper rifle was out of ammo, his .44 Magnum was broken and his only other functioning weapon was a crowbar. In this scenario, sneaking past them would be his next option of choice, but his Chinese Stealth Armor was busted, flickering in and out whenever he activated the cloaking mechanism. As if that wasn't enough, he was also out of Stealth Boys. Just fucking dandy.
Ignoring his injured body and morale, Jayne stood and peered around the dark closet that he'd holed up in for the time being. There were a few odds and ends, some things Crazy Wolfgang might like to get his hands on, but no ammunition boxes or medical supply kits. He sighed and cursed his bad luck, then crouched back down to think. This building was a labyrinth in itself. Sneaking out on his own would be impossible given the number of muties that stormed in after him. They were everywhere; his Pipboy was flashing red tick marks all around him in warning. Above, below, in front, behind, Super Mutants! He sat back on his haunches and tried to think.
Usually this kind of thing was a breeze! Get in, scavenge for valuables, get out. That had been his life for a number of years now. After the whole Project Purity escapade, the 'Lone Wanderer' had simply dropped off the grid, and that was how he liked it. He liked to scavenge, to be alone, to search ruins and sell things, and he'd made a pretty good life doing it, too. It was easy for someone as skilled as him. He was usually fine on his own.
Scavving was usually no problem.
It was usually a walk in the park.
It usually didn't involve a shit-ton of fucking Super Mutant Overlords and their cronies swarming the damn building as he was on his way out!
"Fuck!" Jayne swore again, but the curse died on his lips as he heard movement outside. Slow, heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, accompanied by the sound of a gun cocking. He froze, not even daring to breathe. The footsteps paused outside his door, only briefly, but then continued down the corridor, apparently writing his expletive off as another imaginary noise. Jayne exhaled slowly, quietly. He did not want to die here. He would not die here. Gathering the few supplies he had, while simultaneously gathering his courage, Jayne set his mind on the idea of getting out. That's all he wanted. To get out.
Resolved to do just that, the battle-worn man cracked the door of his closet open. A Brute was standing at the end of the hallway, it's grotesque, mangled green back turned to him, and from the sound of things this was the only mutie in this area. Moving as quickly as he dared while trying to remain undetected, Jayne crept behind the monster, his nimble fingers making short work of the pockets on the thing's pants, and planted a live grenade there. The big ugly screamed as Jayne backpedalled, then exploded, its burly legs ripped clean off at the hip and the rank blood flying all over the floor and walls. Jayne looted the corpse quickly, then left the area before another of the fuckers decided to come investigate the noise.
He fled down the corridor, hanging a left at a corner that he knew would lead to the stairs, but stopped short as another Brute loomed in front of him. "Shit!" Jayne dodged a sledgehammer aimed for his head as the thing roared. He quickly drew his shotgun, took two shots at its head and watched it hit the ground, a sack of dead, slate-green meat. Now there were more, screaming and streaming into the corridors; he could hear them homing in on his position. Every second counted now. Not bothering to search the new corpse, Jayne made a break for the stairs, dodging around a corner and meeting another mutie head on. He took a blow to the side, sure that he heard a rib crack, but simply grit his teeth and smacked the fucker as hard as he could in the side of the head with his crowbar. It went down, but didn't die. Jayne ran.
Second floor, he could do this. Mutants were everywhere, bullets were flying, and Jayne was vaguely aware that his left arm was suffering again, but his mentality remained clear; Get the fuck out of dodge. He kept running, banking around corners as if the devil himself was on his heels, trying to keep his head low and away from the bullets. His combat armor was torn up, bullets were starting to pierce the thinner areas, but that didn't matter right now. As much as it pained him to run from a fight, that was all that could be done. He hopped a small couch and ducked as bullets from a Minigun went flying over his head, then continued towards the stairwell at the opposite end of this floor. The door came into view, he could see it, but of course his luck didn't hold.
A lumbering giant, an Overlord, smashed through the door, roaring and taking aim at him, Minigun already whirring. Jayne panicked and took a hallway to his right, deviating from the path to freedom in an act of instinctual self-preservation. He quickly realized his error, however, and a sinking feeling developed in the pit of his stomach as the dead end came into view.
He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, much like the first time he ever laid eyes on a mutant, so many years ago as a terrified boy in the underbelly of a broken city. No, he was not going to die today. Not after everything he'd been through. The mutie hoard was about to round the corner, and he was stuck in a dead-end situation on the second floor of a building. Pure, wild, survivor instinct took over then, and Jayne did what said instinct deemed logical:
He jumped out of the fucking window.
FANFICTION, Y U NO FORMAT? /rage