Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3, Ferris is the only thing that's mine. Don't sue me please!
A/N: First time writing fanfic, be kind, please!
Chapter One: Claws of Death
Sometimes, you're just plain unlucky. That's what Ferris Mars told himself as he scrambled for his life over the broken remains of an overpass. Behind him, he heard heavy thuds as the Deathclaw chased him. He could almost feel its fetid breath on his neck. The beast wasn't going to give up. His heart pounded. There was no way he'd be able to outrun it. It had a longer stride, greater stamina. He felt more than heard the beast's claws reach out for him.
The ground suddenly stopped and his foot came down on empty space. Ferris let out a strangled yelp as he dropped. Jagged rocks cut his back, tearing through his duster. He tumbled down an embankment, narrowly missing boulders and large chunks of concrete from the overpass.
Ferris' headlong plummet came to a stop as he reached the bottom. Above, the Deathclaw let out a roar of frustration. The sound was terrible. But it was enough to force Ferris back to his feet. He started running again.
Ahead, Ferris saw his goal. In the pre-dawn gloom, he could see one of the buildings that lay on the outskirts of Washington DC. Somehow, it had survived the war, its structure fairly intact except for the windows; they had been blown out long ago. Another building was adjacent to it, but it hadn't fared so well. Half of it had collapsed. The first building was his goal. Once, it had been a small apartment building, with a diner on the ground floor. Now it was one of the numerous locations the Regulators kept a stash of weapons, this one on the roof.
If he could get to it. The Deathclaw was already making its way down the embankment. The apartment building was a good fifty metres away. It would be on him before he even got halfway.
Then he saw it. Below the building, there was a drain outlet pipe, a little trickle of water feeding a small pool of water beneath it. There was a grate over the outlet, but a hole had been blasted through it at some point in the past. It was small, but maybe big enough. It would do.
Ferris changed path. He ran faster. The Deathclaw had reached the bottom of the embankment. It bellowed and came after him again. The outlet was closer, ten metres away.
The beast closed the distance, fast. It must have been toying with him earlier, keeping him just in reach.
Five metres. Ferris dived. The hole in the grate was just big enough. He slipped through and splashed into the rancid water.
A hand shot into the pipe, groping for him. He scrambled back through the water, out of reach.
The Deathclaw let out a bellow of frustration. It roared into the pipe, and tried again, but its claws fell short, scraping through the water.
After a moment, Ferris heard its heavy footfalls moving away. He let out a sigh of relief, and lay back in the water, taking great gulps of air. He was safe for the moment.
Ferris had been tracking several raiders who had been terrorising the trade caravans on their route between Rivet City and Canturbury Commons. The traders were mostly lucky to escape with their lives. The guards they employed simply weren't enough to deal with the raiders. So several had grouped together and approached the Regulators. They offered cold, hard caps for them to deal with the Raiders. The Regulators didn't normally take payment. They left that to the merc companies like Reilly's Rangers. But times had been hard in the past few months. There were fewer and fewer Regulators. So Morgan Cruz had accepted the offer. He had big plans for the Regulators, bringing justice back to the Wasteland. Hell, they might even be able to establish more outposts across Washington DC. But best of all, as far as Ferris was concerned, they'd be able to move out of the damned shack they called Headquarters.
With so few Regulators, he had sent Ferris, Leroy and Gale to track the Raiders. It would have taken too long to recall any of the others, and the next caravan was due to make its run soon. His daughter, Sonora, had wanted to join the hunt, but Morgan shot that idea down; one day, she would take over as leader of the Regulators. Until then, there was no way Morgan was going to risk his fifteen year-old daughter.
Tracking the Raiders had been absurdly easy. They took no precautions, brazenly camping near the caravan route in the ruins of an old housing estate that gave them a good view of the surrounding landscape.
The three regulators crept through the darkness, closer to the camp. When they were twenty metres away, they split off, heading to different sides of the camp. Ferris lost sight of them after a few metres. He grinned; the Raiders wouldn't know what hit them. He unlimbered his assault rifle and flicked off the safety, and crouched down behind the wreckage of a rusting car.
They sat around a small campfire beside one of the wrecked buildings, laughing and joking over their latest kill. Bramin meat hung over the fire on a spit, slowly roasting. There were five of them, one sorting through the pile of gear they'd taken from the caravan. As Ferris watched, another Raider came out of a nearby single-storey house, carrying several bottles. She handed them to her comrades before taking her place by the fire. Ferris waited.
Leroy took down the first. A single shot from his hunting rifle blew out the Raider's brains as he sat, leaning against the white picket fence that surrounded the two houses. His comrades sat frozen, covered in gore, staring at the bloody corpse. Then they exploded into activity. One dived away from the fire, arm stretched as he reached out for his shotgun propped against the wall of the ruined building. He never made it. A burst from Ferris' rifle caught him mid-dive, tearing through his torso. He landed bonelessly, dead.
The other Raiders started firing randomly into the darkness. A few shots pinged off the car bonnet, but too wide to hit Ferris. Another fell to Leroy's rifle. Ferris wondered why Gale wasn't firing on the Raiders with her laser rifle.
That was when the Deathclaw appeared.
The first any of them knew of its presence was a shrill scream that cut across the firefight, and brought everyone to a stand still. It cut off mid-scream. Gale's lifeless corpse flew out of the darkness in a spray of blood and guts. She landed in the fire, smothering it. Her torso had been torn to shreds. Both the Raiders and the Regulators froze, facing the direction Gale had come from. Ferris felt a cold fear settle in the pit of his stomach.
The Deathclaw lumbered out of the night. It was massive; three times their size, more like a creature from the darkest depths of Hell than something born in the Wastelands. Its head was demonic, elongated with a mouth full of teeth, and two huge horns. Its long, muscular arms hung ape-like, and were tipped with razor-sharp claws. The hairless body was covered with thick, leathery skin.
Before any of them could react, a swipe from its claws tore one of the Raiders in half, his torso flying into the night, his legs collapsing in a bloody pile.
Ferris didn't know what happened after that, though he heard the screams. He turned and fled, not even bothering to fire on the beast. There was no point; between them, they didn't have the kind of firepower it took to take down a Deathclaw.
He didn't know how long he'd been running, but it wasn't long before he heard the unmistakeable thudding footsteps. The Deathclaw was giving chase.
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