A/N: Some action in this chapter, yay. I thought there was the need for a kind of 'gateway' chapter to Lola's return to the Wasteland. Initially, she was going to be fighting Cazadores, but ... well, much is based on my own experience of running into the wrong place at the wrong time on my first playthrough. XD as always, let me know what you think! =)

Chapter Two – The Mistake

She glanced casually at the clock in the top corner of her Pip-Boy. Five. She doubted anyone would still be milling around, as the Aces had closed four hours ago, and it tended to be quiet around this time. Maybe she would have to slip on something a little less comfortable, or hell, maybe nobody would care if they saw her edging out of the casino with guns strapped to her thighs and a look that could kill.

All of this was assuming she could remove Swank's arm from about her waist, and right now, that didn't seem like an option. Maybe he knew what she was up to, or maybe he had been able to tell what she would do. Why he cared, she did not know. She hadn't told him, of course, about what Benny had done to warrant her arrival at the Tops in the first place – once she had made up her mind, figured out a way around it, she hadn't needed to. Then again, no; the fact that she had arrived here was testament enough to the fact that she could handle the Wasteland, going back out there was not a problem. But then, maybe he knew that she had gotten soft.

"Got quite the grip on you. Of course, I knew that already …" She murmured lowly as she tried to extricate herself from his embrace, which seemed to be much more a subconscious act than anything else. Eventually, she managed, trying not to make too much noise as she rolled out of the bed, glancing at her clothes and then her day pack. She shrugged; it was too much effort to go to, wearing a dress, when anyone who wanted to find out would know it was her under the disguise anyway. Only she knew what came next. The elevator whirred, a low hum as it took her to the lower floors and she crossed the lobby swiftly, a few heads turning towards her but not enough to cause a stir.

"My weapons." She muttered to the woman at the desk, who looked far beyond exhausted. Ironic that they kept the weapons behind the desk where people cashed their chips.

"Your name, please?" She barely even seemed to be able to say these words.

"Lola." The woman nodded. Perhaps talking was too taxing for her after all, because she slid the equipment across the desk without another word. The heavy artillery had been left up in the Lucky 38, the only place she could keep it without it being confiscated. In here was the stuff she took to using more often – smaller weapons, one-handed guns. She didn't know why these were her preference, perhaps their versatility and weight, but either way, they fitted quite nicely into a single case, in spite of the fact that it was sometimes difficult to get across the desk.

That was it, then. She stepped out of the Tops, knowing that the chairmen wouldn't leave the gates, the safety of Vegas, so once she was beyond those …

It surprised her. Perhaps it was simply because most people were so subdued at this time in the morning that nobody seemed to care much for a gun-toting blonde in tattered jeans. Perhaps it was because they had more important things to do than worry about her. Either way, Lola was surprised at how quickly she reached the other side of Freeside, and looked out across the dim Wastes, not yet illuminated by the sun.

"I guess this is it, then," She couldn't help but notice how her voice wavered as she spoke to herself. She wasn't ready for this, not by any means. She breathed in, slowly, taking in the taste of the Wasteland and frowning – she had forgotten this, too. She didn't like it. It was a mark of just how quickly someone could change as a person, in such a short space of time, and given the right provisions.

She felt strangely alone, too, knowing that some of the friends she had come to know throughout her travels would be waiting for her in her tentative base of operations, the Lucky 38. Of course, it was the only place she could have sent them to, but without them following alongside her, she knew she would be finished off by some cazador, or radscorpion, or even a Deathclaw if she was not careful. More than careful. It was as she considered this that she bent down to check her case, not in case they had taken something from her – she was sure that they knew by now it was not advisable – but to ensure she had enough ammunition, not that she wanted to have to use it. She glanced blankly down at the submachine guns, unable to feel a burgeoning sense of excitement as she took them out and strapped them about her waist.

"How unlucky can one gal really be?" She whispered, hoping that even if her luck was so terrible, she might be granted some reprieve, sometime soon. She shook her head, the first step into the wilderness being the hardest to take – after that, all she had to do was run.

Hours later, Lola recalled how she had convinced herself that all she had had to do was run. Well, she had been running for a while, all right, and now, she had run directly into … well, not so much run directly into as made sure she had hidden a good distance away once she had seen the Deathclaws.

"Fuck." She muttered to herself as she poked her head around the side of the boulder, to check the relative location of the beasts. The good news was that they had not yet spotted her. The bad news was that they looked to be blind, and this was not at all good news for a woman who stunk of cheap Vegas perfume right about now.

Lola rifled through her case, trying not to make too much noise, but failing as her breathing became shallow, desperate. She was sure she had the alien device in here somewhere, and granted, she was low on power cells, but she thought she had enough to deal with them. She had only tried using it once before, recalled how she had accidentally reduced a harmless Mr. Handy robot to ash before realising how dangerous the device well and truly was.

This situation, however, called for it. Eventually, her hand found the barrel and she pulled the gun out, blue liquid, or liquid energy, or something, glowing brightly. She had to remind herself to stay calm, but had to admit that this was no mean feat, not when fear of the creatures had already gripped her. Most of this, she knew, was built more upon Wasteland legends than anything else, but what if … just what if one of those razor sharp claws managed to rip her arm off? Or her leg? Or, even worse, her head?

"Keep it together." She whispered, slowly rising to her feet and stepping precariously around the boulder. Not too close … aim … she closed one eye and crouched in an attempt to steady herself, but it was no use, her arms were still shaking violently; target …

She pulled the trigger once, twice, and immediately, two shots of the blue energy burst from the barrel of the blaster. This was it, now, while the blind Deathclaws had not seen one amongst their ranks getting hit, square in the scaly chest by strange light, they had certainly sensed it, and the direction it had come from. While Lola knew that she should have been elated at the sight of the Deathclaw disintegrating, all she could really think about were the other six that were now headed in her general direction. No time to aim. Not even enough time to point at each in turn because they would reach her, so instead, she started pulling the trigger, doing her best to point it where she thought they would attack from, but she could not be so sure …

The first, the leader, the one who had started the chase and had been closest to her disintegrated in much the same fashion as his predecessor. She aimed to the right and the left, and while the one on the left fell, curled back and hit the floor with something that sounded vaguely like a growl, the one to the right staggered only a little before …

"Shit, fuck, damn it." Lola bit down, hard, on her lip as the claw whipped at her leg, the flesh visible through the hole in her jeans now turning a bright red. It had only just caught her, and she knew that she would have been ripped apart had it been any closer, but she had pulled the trigger that moment, hitting the Deathclaw that had almost taken her leg off in the head.

Three more, gaining on her, now, not quite as close as the ones before, but far too close for comfort. She winced, closing her eyes firmly in on themselves against the pain before raising the weapon once more. It was all she could do to pull the trigger, haphazard shots of blue energy, perhaps hitting their target, perhaps not, she didn't even know. She would know, possibly, when several claws ripped her apart all at once. She opened her eyes a sliver, barely wanting to, watched as another Deathclaw bowled over backwards, but that did not help with the other two ...

It hurt to run. Lola only found this out once she tore around the other side of the boulder in an attempt to put some distance between herself and the remaining two Deathclaws, to no avail The things were too damn fast, and while she had managed to kill four of them already, she knew that she would never have been able to without the help of the alien blaster. And damn, she was running out of shots.

She did not have time to crouch, close one eye and steady her aim, this time. She sent two shots at the Deathclaw to her right, which was closer to the one on her left this time, but moved on too quickly to see whether or not it had killed it. No claws. Perhaps she had crippled its leg. She aimed for the other Deathclaw's head this time, thinking it was no use to destroy its sight – the creature was already blind. Forever moving backwards, she did not stop shooting, damn what it did to the cells she had, the dwindling, irreplaceable ammunition. She felt head head hit against something hard, immediately starting to ache, and she was dizzied. She wanted to slide down whatever it was she had just run into. Her finger impulsively pulled on the trigger until the familiar warmth signalling a shot headed towards the enemy was long gone, and she knew she was out of ammunition. Lola closed her eyes again. She waited for the blow that would exact her fate.

It never came.

She opened her eyes a fraction, only to see one of the Deathclaws lying a short distance away from her, its leg torn off and bleeding profusely. The other, like two before it, had been reduced to nothing but ash.

"Damn you, Benny ..." She muttered to herself, although her face split into a grin of relief. Maybe she had not gotten as soft as she thought she had. Still, it had been close, and the throbbing pain in her leg reassured her of this; slowly, she slid down the hard surface she had run backwards into, and tore open her day back, rifling through it for what she knew was in there. "Gotcha," She muttered as she pulled out a bottle of vodka, clear contents swilling around inside the glass. "Shame. Was looking forward to this later on tonight." She shrugged, voice breathy as she stretched her injured leg out in front of her. Reaching back into the bag with her free hand and pulling out some strips of cloth. Not much, but it would have to do. She clenched her teeth, willing herself not to yell out in pain as she poured the vodka on her wound, binding it quickly with the cloth. Not pleasant. Not at all the end, though. Once she had replaced the vodka, she pulled out a Stimpak, needle point glinting at her in the sunlight as she plunged the tip into her thigh.

She remained there for a moment. It was a shame, really, that she could not seem to adapt to her surroundings yet, and perhaps, secretly, she had missed some of it. She glanced down at the pale pink already seeping through the cloth and was instantly reminded of why she had become so familiar with The Strip in the first place.