Extracted From the Mind of Kai Mayer
Disclaimer: Still owning nothing
Announcement: Special thanks to my reveiwers! Your support is heart-lifting, and motivating. I never expected reviews this early! Oh, and I know this chapter seems a bit lame compared to the last, but I needed the two protagonists to meet, and intimacy between characters isn't my strong point. The next will be less offbeat, promise. Oh, and I haven't forgotten about the two children from the first chap, they will return.
Chapter Two: Strange Loners and Wandering Mysteries
The Super Mutants were unrelenting, they seemed to come from all directions and instead of fleeing when out of ammo, they simply threw down their guns and rushed at the Wanderer with blunt weaponry.
The Wasteland Exemplar, as she'd often been called, was wondering if her quest to find her father would end here, cold, bleeding, and alone in the ruins of Washington DC. Brutally killed, or eaten, or raped by these snarling and roaring monsters. She wasn't entirely sure what it was they did with people, no one was, but she really didn't want to find out.
She reloaded her Chinese Assault Rifle as best she could with her shaking hands, having to fiddle with a safety a bit because lately she'd neglected lately to maintain the weapon, a shortcoming she now greatly regretted. Feverously she wondered how long her cover would last, the Mutants had Mini-guns and missile launchers and sledgehammers and god knows what else. All she had was the rifle, a butcher's knife, one final fragmentation grenade and a sawn-off shotgun she'd looted from the metro earlier.
Shivering in the frigid night air, the Wanderer lifted herself from the ground and, with buckling knees, fired a few shots into the gloom of the Washington Mall. She knew the Mutants knew where she was, she didn't know where they mutants were, and they knew that, very bad.
The Exemplar now cursed her foolish pride in not accepting help on her quest; she had hoped to gain more renown by finding Three Dog's satellite dish by her lonesome. Now all she'd gain is death, perhaps quickly, perhaps agonizingly slow. The latter was beginning to seem far more likely.
There was a bellowing shout, and the Wanderer turned just in time to see a particularly fierce looking Super Mutant rush at her, swinging a wooden plank with nails still lodged in it. Her body may have been fatigued, but her mind, and by extension her reflexes, were sharp as ever. She ducked under the first blow and tried to fire into the Super Mutant's stomach, but her gun jammed and she was forced to roll away as the Mutant swung again.
Drawing her knife, the Exemplar leapt onto the Mutant's shoulders and began to stab mercilessly into its thick green throat. At first it struggled, but the past two months surviving on the Wasteland had made the Wanderer a swift killer. Before long the hunk of mutated flesh fell to the ground, dead at last. Panting, the Wanderer sheathed her blade, but noticed a flash in the black distance. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was the glare of moonlight on a scope.
She just managed to dive back behind cover before the wall behind her took a .308 caliber round. A sniper!? She thought furiously to herself, There are NO Super Mutant Snipers!
Clutching the frag grenade in one hand and pulling the pin with her teeth, the Exemplar flung the pineapple with all the strength and skill her years as The Vault 101 Little League's MVP could warrant her. Three, two... She counted down in her head, teeth gritting in weariness and anger.
BOOM. There were multiple screams, the screams of men, of raiders. The explosion also ignited the nuclear reactor of a nearby Roles Royce, which went up in a beautiful and terrible radiation-enhanced blast.
No longer paying the Raiders any mind, the Wanderer grabbed her faulty rifle and made a desperate break for the Museum which was supposed to have Three Dog's dish within it. As she ran she fixed the jam in her weapon, loading a new clip and hoping to God that there were no more Mutants within the building.
"You're such a cockeyed optimist." Amata's laughing voice echoed her head.
It's funny how flashbacks always seem to pertain to what's happening in real life.
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Half a dozen Mutants fell gurgling to the ground, all still grasping their weapons, covered in the blood continuing to spurt from the burst arteries on each of their necks. The man who'd bestowed this fate upon them calmly placed a new clip into his customized .44 Magnum.
The Super Mutants had seemed to be lying in wait for that girl whom he'd seen traversing the wastes, an ambush, he couldn't allow that. Even on a black night such as this, he had to shine his light, the light of munificence.
"Fight fair," He found himself commanding the corpses, "Or don't fight at all," He then paused before adding, "Or die."
That was pretty good, He thought to himself, strolling away and holstering his pistol. I should write that down.
It was clear that this woman he'd just secretly saved had some business in Washington, some quest or mission to complete. It was also clear that she had come unprepared to finish the job, so he would help her; as it was his duty as a human being to distribute retribution. As long as he drew breath and had ammunition, the righteous would flourish, but evil must be punished.
He'd heard about this Wanderer, this Exemplar, on the radio, the disc jockey had mentioned on several occasions her fighting of 'the good fight'. So the Mysterious Stranger decided he would fight the good fight alongside her, although to him "alongside" meant from the shadows behind her.
Climbing to the second floor of a ruined building, the Stranger watched as the Wanderer tossed a grenade and blew a small party of raiders to gory bits. He grunted in approval, but did a double take as he saw her sprint toward the Museum of Technology; didn't she know that Mutants made their homes within buildings?
With an annoyed growl he stepped off his perch, bending his knees as he landed to absorb the fall and using a hand to keep his balance. Then he began to sprint toward the museum, one hand on his hat and the other on his magnum. There was no time to tarry; the Lone Wanderer was in great peril.
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The Exemplar screamed in pain as .32 bullets tore into her right shoulder and smashed her left kneecap. The offending Super Mutants laughed as they pulled pins on their hunting rifles which expelled the empty shells, taking their time watching her writhe in pain before lining up more shots. Propping herself up on her uninjured knee, the Wanderer threw herself behind a nearby pillar and struggled to again fix the jam on her assault rifle. Dread began to creep into her, making her limbs sag and forcing her to bite back the pained tears.
"Take a deep breath, eyes down the sight, and squeeze the trigger." Her father said, his grizzled image flashing before her eyes. The Wanderer suddenly felt new strength surge through her body, and she raised the weapon again, but before she could fire, a strange tune sounded from her Pip-Boy. It was like the kind of jingle you'd hear on a detective cartoon or an old Western, sounding like a lone, very low guitar, and the notes it played were very dark and brooding. She glanced at the device on her wrist, wondering if it was malfunctioning, only to dart her head back up as someone in brown ran past her.
At first the Stranger paid no attention to the Wanderer, but it was clear how vicious he was, because before anyone knew what he was doing the two Mutants were grasping their throats and falling to the floor.
Evidently, he was unharmed; as the first thing he did was kneel down to check the Exemplar's wounds. Who could tell he was in perfect health, because she'd been injured in front of others before, but in her experience Wastelanders always looked after themselves first. If people had thought chivalry was dead in the twenty-first century, it certainly was now.
"…Hurm." Was all the Stranger saw fit to grunt, examining the bullet wound on her shin, and then moving on to its twin on her shoulder. She looked wide-eyed at him, still panting, and still scared shitless. The Wanderer tried to make out her savior's face, which was hidden in the shadow beneath his hat. For a fleeting and hope-filled moment she thought it to be her father, but quickly she dismissed the notion, this man was far too good a shot with a pistol.
The Mysterious Stranger reached out with his right hand, it was rough and calloused from a life of holding the same sidearm, and it was also grimy and blackened from a life of limited bathing. Before the Exemplar could object however, he hurriedly zipped open her Vault 101 jumpsuit, tearing off the armoured shoulder plate which Moira had added, and effectively groped her right breast.
She yelped, both in pain from the wound and in surprise. Reflexively she tried to smack him with her other hand, a defense she had utilized many times against Butch and his gang, but to her great astonishment the man caught her speeding palm.
"Do you want to die!?" He exclaimed, bating away her hand and retrieving a pair of tweezers from his pocket. "There's a bullet lodged in your…" He broke off the sentence, looking into the Wanderer's eyes and seeing the pure emotion which lay behind them. This woman was innocent, not the kind of innocent he was used to, most of the people he protected were only innocent for the time being, and many a time he had been forced to put down old allies for their misdeeds. This Exemplar was different however, he looked into her sea-green eyes and saw only kindness, albeit fear, loneliness, loss, and pain were thrown in there as well, but those were temporary, true benevolence was forever.
"What the fuck are you looking at!?" The Wanderer snarled, finally mustering the courage to push the Stranger away and remove his hand from her chest. Furiously, she kicked him, hard, in the chin, and all but forgetting his help earlier, limped out the door as fast as she could. The Stranger didn't follow.
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What was that about? The Exemplar found herself wondering as the Ghoul Doctor patched up her wounds and extracted the bullet. Who was that guy? Was he trying to help? Or...
"You gonna pay? Or do I havta' feed your brain to my glowing buddies?" The Chop Shop Doc asked, motioning to the feral Ghouls under surveillance in the room nextdoor.
"Oh, yeah, thanks very much!" The Wanderer said, flashing her winning smile before paying her caps and leaving. She was lucky to have run into Willow outside, the kindly Ghoul had dragged her down to Underworld and taken her straight to the Chop Shop. I must remember to thank her for that.
Unbeknownst to the Wanderer, the Stranger had followed her, and she didn't even notice him next to her on the bar as she sat down for a drink. His hat hid his features, and his inconspicuous clothing allowed him to blend in well enough with the Ghouls. I shall have to shadow her for a while, she can clearly accomplish feats of good on a scale i can scarcely imagine. The least I can do is protect her. He told himself, not wanting to admit that he was, in fact, enamored by the woman. She was so pure and clear, like a shining jewel, though she is far from diamond-hard...
This he thought as he remembered the feel of her flesh on his hand, he had had so little human contact in the last few years that just the warmth of her bosom amazed him. Though to be honest, the implied sexuallity of his previous actions escaped him, he couldn't remember ever touching or being touched affectionately in his life, and as such had no idea about such things.
The two sat for about an hour, and the Mysterious Stranger listened intently as the Wanderer made small talk with the other patrons, never paying any attention to him. He began to make a pyscological profile of her in his mind, but was broken out of his thoughts when he realized that she had up and left. Quickly but silently he dashed after her, not willing to lose her, as she was now the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend.
Pathetic, no?