Hey y'all! Sorry for the delay. Work has been kicking my ass lately. A special thank you to The_Konfessionist for their lovely review (and fav/follow)! It's nice to have support from fellow writers. Here's my newest chapter, I hope you all enjoy.

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Chapter 2: An Axe For All Ages

It was a gloomy day in Goodneighbor as MacCready leaned against the entrance to the Rexford. Rolling clouds with a green tinge lingered in the distance and he heard the rumbling of thunder. His internal clock had stirred him from sleep about a few hours ago and he'd since been killing time. For a woman who'd tried so menacingly to threaten him about not being here in the morning, she sure did sleep like she didn't have a care in the world. For all she knew, he'd taken her caps and skipped town by now. It was a good thing she hired probably the only mercenary in a hundred mile radius who actually followed a personal moral guideline. His morals might not be inherently good, sure, but when someone paid him for a job he usually kept to his word.

Last thing he needed was another debt he had to repay.

His new employer had caught him reading one of Duncan's letters last night. Daisy hadn't seen him all day and swung by the Third Rail to drop off some mail for him after her shop closed. Her timing had been impeccable because she walked in on him being hassled by Winlock and Barnes. Of course she knew better than to get involved but she did have a few choice words to throw at the men as they left.

It'd been almost two weeks without a letter from the Capital, so when Daisy handed him a stack of envelopes tied together with fraying twine, he nearly bolted out of his chair of excitement. But as he opened the first letter and saw that it wasn't written in his son's childish handwriting, a cold sweat had settled over his skin. If it was bad news, which he was certain it was, he couldn't read it in somewhere like the Rail. He'd begun to panic and fled to the top floor and used the side entrance to avoid any prying eyes. Unfortunately, the alley hadn't been as private as he'd hoped.

He wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there or how much she saw. It didn't really matter, he supposed. It's not like she had x-ray vision and could see what was written on them. Duncan was still alive but he'd gotten some unfortunate news regarding his health from his caregiver. MacCready had never been more thankful for the dim lighting in the alleyway, because all of his credibility would've been out the window if she'd been able to see his face. Nobody wanted to hire a weepy mercenary.

The first thing he noticed was how out of place she seemed. Her blonde hair was well kept and styled, her face clean with only the slightest hint of makeup, and she wore a pip-boy on her wrist. If she were a true veteran of the wasteland, he found it highly unlikely that she would take such care to appear so put together. After all, it only took a few weeks of consistently being covered in blood and grime before you stopped caring what you looked like. All that mattered was survival. He suspected she was from a vault. It was the only thing that made sense.

Thunder rumbled again, only this time closer, and he shook his head. If his employer didn't get up and head out soon, they'd get stuck in the middle of that rad storm. Last thing he wanted was to be exposed to a high dose of radiation and potentially sprout a second head. With an annoyed grunt, he made his way inside the hotel. The lobby was fairly empty save for a few regulars. Fred was by the bathrooms and a worker idly mopped the hallways behind the front desk. That's when he and the hotel manager made eye contact and he strolled over.

At his arrival, Clair shook her head disapprovingly. "MacCready, for the last time, we won't give you a discounted room on Hancock's tab. You either pay up front or you sleep on the street."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me, Clair." At his comment, Clair's face scrunched up, as if she'd just tasted something sour. "I'm looking for someone. She's about yea high," he gestured to the middle of his chest with his hand, "blonde. Has a pip-boy."

"Yeah, I've seen her. What business do you have with someone like that?" She sounded suspicious. "I won't have you gunning people down in my hotel, MacCready."

"Do you really think that's all I do?" Clair went to open her mouth and he raised his hand to stop her. "You know what? Don't answer that. And no, I'm not here to shoot anyone up. She hired me and I'm supposed to meet her here."

The woman still didn't seem convinced but after a few beats of silent deliberation, she just shrugged. "Top floor. At the end of the hallway, last door on the left."

"You're a doll."

The stairs were annoying and he couldn't help but grumble as he ascended them. He really wished they would get the elevators running. But he knew Marowski was more concerned with pocketing extra caps than keeping this place in shape. It was the only hotel in the settlement after all. If it was all people had, they'd be forced to use it no matter the quality.

Finally the door to her room came into view and he marched up to it. He raised his hand to knock but paused when he heard a muffled voice through the door. It was near impossible to hear what the voice was saying but it was definitely a man. He really shouldn't be snooping but his interest was piqued. Slowly, as to not make any noise, he leaned closer to the door, his hand still poised and ready to knock. A soft click could be heard from somewhere in the room before the man's voice started again. Doubt flittered across his mind as he considered that he maybe had the wrong room. He leaned back and wordlessly counted each door. Nope, he was at the right one. Last door on the left.

He strained his ears to try and pick up more but he heard another soft click and then… silence. After a few beats where he could hear nothing but the thrum of his own heartbeat in his ears, he finally knocked.

"If that's you, MacCready, come on in."

He tried the handle and it gave way, clearly unlocked. Was this girl an idiot? You never leave your room unlocked. It was practically an open invitation for any scav or addict to come in and steal everything not nailed down- with or without you inside. As the door creaked open, he opened his mouth to lecture her, but felt his words die in his throat at what he saw.

She sat at a bereft wooden desk near the window. Her hair was no longer styled but was now tucked into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. The duster from the night prior was discarded and hanging over the arm of the couch next to the bed. She wore a black jumpsuit with a few pieces of leather armor strapped over her arms, chest, and thighs. On the desk before her were a few scattered pieces of metal. He watched with growing intrigue as she placed the tip of her finger on each piece, her mouth moving as she silently counted, letting them fall one by one into her open palm waiting at the edge.

Were those coins? It was hard to tell. Nobody used those anymore and he wasn't sure when the last time he'd even seen any in person was. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him. Her eyes were slightly puffy and a little red. MacCready thought it best to not mention it.

"You know, you shouldn't keep your door unlocked. You're lucky it was me darkening your doorway and not somebody with bad intentions."

"How do I know you're not 'somebody with bad intentions'?" She countered as she stood, grabbing her duster from the couch and donning it. The pip-boy was on the edge of the desk and she grabbed it, slipping it onto her wrist with a click.

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "But the fact that I haven't killed you and taken all of your valuables should be proof enough."

"Killed me… yet," she gave him a pointed look. There was a heavy looking bag at the end of the bed and she hoisted it over her shoulder. She fiddled with some dials on her pip-boy. "Are you ready to head out? It's nearly noon."

"I noticed, seeing as I've been up for a few hours already and waiting on you." He felt a flair of irritation as the words left his mouth but she seemed unfazed by it. "There's a rad storm a few miles out. We might want to leave as soon as possible and get ahead of it. Unless you want to become a ghoul."

"Maybe I do," she said nonchalantly as she moved towards the door. "Who are you to judge?"

"Hey, no judgement here, boss. Just leave me out of your dreams of ghoulification."

"Leave you out of it? Tch, then what did I even hire you for?" The door closed behind them with a soft click and they moved towards the stairs. "Typical."

"Oh yeah, I'm the bad guy here. Excuse me for not wanting an extra limb sprouting out of my chest," he watched her back as they walked. "I also like having a nose."

Vivian threw a glance over her shoulder with a slight smile, her honey colored eyes glinting impishly. "But imagine all the things you could do with three arms. I think the benefits outweigh the negatives here. You just have no imagination."

At that, he found himself chuckling again despite himself. Whatever other kind of predispositions he had about this soft vault dweller, he had to admit that she did have a decent sense of humor. At least her skin was thick. More often than not, he found his sarcasm and wit falling on unappreciative ears. Not that it stopped him in the slightest. It wasn't often that he cared what other people thought of what he had to say, nor would he ever tailor his opinion to fit those around him. Employer or not.

By the time they managed to leave Goodneighbor, it was a little before one. Vivian had to stop in and barter a bit with Daisy, although she was awful at it. He wasn't sure if Daisy just felt bad for the poor woman or what, but she gave her a few stimpaks and a box of ammo for half the cost. Daisy barely acknowledged him during the exchange. Instead, they just traded off giving one another knowing nods while Vivian was distracted counting out her caps.

They'd been walking for a few hours when MacCready started to grow listless. The streets had been relatively empty with only a few feral dogs crossing their path every now and again. Vivian bobbed along ahead of him, listening to the radio station from Diamond City—volume annoyingly high. It was that song about a girl being an atom bomb or something stupid like that. Every now and again she'd hum along and he was pleasantly surprised at her ability to hold a tune. Impressed as he was, it was beyond stupid to blast music like that if they were trying to keep under the radar.

"You might want to turn that down a little, boss. Who knows what's out here," he tightened his grip around his rifle as he scanned the buildings above them. "That noise paints a giant target on our backs."

Vivian hummed a little bit more of the tune, clearly very into the song. "I think you just have a thing against good music."

"How in the hell have you survived this long?" MacCready tried to sound playful but it came out with an edge. "Sheer luck?"

At this, Vivian shot him a glare, begrudgingly turning the nob on her pip-boy. "Yeesh, okay. I get the point. No need to be rude."

"I'm not being rude," he said with a frustrated sigh. "I'm just trying to make sure we don't get our heads chewed off by super mutants or Raiders or whatever. Ya know, what you hired me to do?"

Vivian seemed to shrug this off and turned the music back up. It wasn't as loud as before but it was still enough to draw attention if anyone, or anything, was in ear shot. Her blonde bun swung side to side as she went and MacCready just shook his head. If things got bad enough, he wasn't above going separate ways. It seemed she was reckless if not a little oblivious. That brought him back to previous thoughts on her being a vault dweller. Oblivious, soft, and toting a heavy wrist accessory. From this angle, with all her leather and black, she could almost pass as a mercenary. But what good was armor and weapons if you didn't know how to use them? Maybe it was just enough to keep people away from her. He eyed the machete holstered at her thigh. Big knife for such a small person. He idly wondered how many times she accidentally cut herself trying to use it.

He shook his head again. None of this really mattered. All that mattered were the caps now jingling in his pocket. Hopefully, this woman wasn't as dense as she seemed and they'd have a steady influx of caps coming in. After the letters he received last night, he knew Duncan was going to need the extra funding.

His thoughts were cut off when he heard a commotion at his flank. The grip on his rifle tightened as he brought the scope to eye level, sweeping from the alleyways to the tall buildings above them. Then he spotted them- those tall, lumbering beasts with a sickly green hue. The ground seemed to tremble beneath their boots, dust stirring up in untamable clouds, a few mutated hounds following at their heels. One, two, three… Christ, there was six of them. It was an entire goddamn pack. With growing alarm, MacCready went to alert the boss but it appeared she'd already caught on. She'd frozen in place with her hand on the dial of her pip-boy, her face still as she addressed the lingering threat beside them.

Without missing a beat, MacCready closed the gap between them and grabbed firmly on her arm, dragging her to the direction of a few hollowed out cars. "C'mon boss, we're sitting ducks out here."

Part of him expected her to fight him but she just gave in to his unremitting pull. They found some decent cover behind a couple of cars that had been neatly overlapping one another. Almost like someone had set up a small perimeter using them. He propped his rifle against the trunk and peered through the scope once again. The pack was heading in their direction but had stopped to investigate the abandoned remnants of a raider camp.

"Do you think you can pick them off from here?" Vivian's voice was soft against his ear and he had to fight an instinctual shudder.

"There's six of them, excluding the couple of mutant hounds that are tagging along," he glanced at her from his peripherals for a split second before returning his gaze before him. She was uncomfortably close. "It wouldn't be smart to engage them. We should wait it out until they pass."

"But what if we…" she trailed off for a second, her voice barely a harsh whisper. "If we don't pick any off from afar, it'll screw us over in the long run when they get closer. Six of them noticing us is a hell of a lot more dangerous than, say, two or three."

"I don't want to do anything to draw them closer to us," he snapped. "It's safer for us to stay low than risk it."

"And I don't want to take the risk of being outnumbered in close proximity," she snapped back equally as fierce. "Besides, you know they can smell us. Even if we take shelter in a building or stay behind these cars, we're at risk for being human-on-a-stick for these ogres."

MacCready felt all irritation dissolve at her choice of words. "Ogres?" He queried, his eyebrows raising with curiosity. "Now you're just making up words."

"No," she huffed, sounding annoyed. She pulled away so she wasn't as close and he gave a soft sigh of relief. "Ogres are… how do I explain this? They're man-eating giants from folklore." MacCready's stillness must've given away his confusion because she continued. "Fairytales? Like children's stories passed down word of mouth to others in the community. Some stories are hundreds of years old."

"Hm. Never heard of an ogre," he shook his head. The mutants had started to move again and he swallowed hard. "Although, man-eating giants is a pretty accurate description for these as—ugh, jerks."

"I know," she clicked her tongue and pulled a pistol from a holster under her arm, "that's why I said it."

"Feisty," he could almost laugh.

At his side, Vivian pulled out the clip for her automatic pistol and then popped it back into place. With the poise of someone confident in her abilities, she placed her hands around the grip and aimed towards the group of mutants in the distance, crouching close to MacCready once again. Both of her arms were straight and her shoulders hunched slightly as she tried to reposition herself.

"You're going to hurt your shoulders shooting like that," he whispered and nodded at her arms. "Keep your right arm straight and the left one bent at the elbow."

She followed his direction and looked back at him expectantly. "Like this?"

He had expected her to give some quip about being a know-it-all, but instead she did as she was told. After a quick inspection, he was pleased with her new positioning and gave a curt nod. "Yep. Just like that, boss."

Vivian went to reply but she was cut off as the crack of a weapon firing invaded their ears and they both flinched in alarm. Damn it. Their talking must have drawn their attention to them.

Stupid, MacCready. You know better.

Sparks shot up as a spray of bullets ricocheted against the car in front of them and he heard Vivian let out a yelp. A flood of crimson splattered the asphalt beneath them and he quickly realized she had been caught in the shoulder. Without missing a beat, she stood from behind the car and let off a few shots before crouching back down. One of the mutants yowled as she struck them in the leg, but it didn't do much to stop their pursuit.

MacCready turned back to his scope and quickly located the mutant at the forefront who'd been firing brazenly into the cars. He took a deep breath as he lined up the sites with the beast's head, his finger switching off the safety with practiced ease. With a short exhale he squeezed the trigger and got a direct hit right between its eyes. The body crumpled to the ground and its companions stopped in apparent surprise. MacCready quickly pulled the bolt of his rifle back and loaded another bullet into the chamber. He picked off another one while they were distracted and he watched, with an odd sense of pleasure, as the creature's head snapped back from the hit.

Fire, reload, fire again.

He turned his attention to the hounds and took them down. The remaining four mutants scattered. Mutants were lumbering brutes with the brains the size of baseballs, but they could tell that being close to one another (and out in the open) like this was apparently not working. He pursued one with his scope as it retreated behind the wall of an abandoned building. In his peripherals, he could see another one slink off in the opposite direction and he only hoped that Vivian was a half-way decent shot. It was in her hands now.

A few shots went off at his flank as he heard Vivian firing her pistol—a string of expletives leaving her lips. He kept his sites trained on the mutant, waiting for it to poke its ugly mug out from behind the wall. Finally, he saw the glimmer of the afternoon sun shining off its greasy viridescent head, and he squeezed the trigger. The top of its skull exploded into a mess of pinks and reds and it dropped to the ground. After another tense few moments, MacCready was able to eliminate two more mutants as they fired at them from all different directions.

He was peering down his scope looking for the last mutant when, suddenly, everything was swallowed up by shadows. A shiver ran down his spine and he spun around just in time to see the last mutant looming over them. Specks of red dotted its arms and chest as it seethed, its lipless mouth opening and closing with each ragged breath. Bullet wounds covered the expanse of its barrel chest and sinewy arms. It seemed Vivian had managed to hit every non-essential part of its body. Someone needed to teach her how to aim. His gaze shot over to the back of the boss' head. Her body was deathly still and oddly reminiscent of a frightened Radstag. MacCready went to put himself in between her and the mutant but he wasn't fast enough.

The mutant lunged over the car and grabbed Vivian in its large, meaty fist. A smothered cry came from the back of her throat as she thrashed against her captor, but it was of no use, and it yanked her up into the air.

"Puny human!" The mutant barked out as it inched her closer to its face. "You die now!"

MacCready brought his rifle up again only to let out a growl at the realization that he was too close. His rifle was practically useless as this proximity. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder and took off in the opposite direction, hoping to put some meaningful distance between them. He found another car and moved behind it, going through the motions of propping his gun up and loading the chamber. Safety off.

His target landed within his crosshairs and he followed their movements, trying to gauge when to shoot. The mutant was strong but was seemingly having a hard time maintaining Vivian's wild squirming. She was close enough to prop her feet against its chest was trying to push away, futile as it seemed. Not once did his eyes ever leave her form and he felt a surge of adrenaline surge through him. If she died here it would be shortest contract he'd ever had.

The mutant had a firm grip on the leather material of her cuirass; a few fingers looped through the front and the tip of its thumb under her chin. He imagined all it would take is one flick from its finger and her head would go flying across the street like a kickball. MacCready grimaced at the thought. Vivian's arms were loose and they seemed to flail for something and he watched, his rifle poised at the ready, as she withdrew her machete from the holster. He fired, not willing to risk it, only to miss as Vivian kicked the mutant in the jaw, knocking its head backwards.

It let out a frustrated growl and brought the boss closer to its face. Then, in one fluid motion, Vivian swung her machete. It made contact with the underside of the beast's jaw and she drove the blade upward, straight into its brain. A grimace chased itself across her features and she twisted the hilt with an audible grunt. The mutant didn't even have time to react. He watched as the muscles went lax and the light within its beady black eyes dimmed and it crumpled beneath its own weight. MacCready felt his jaw drop at the ferocious display.

Vivian went down with it and MacCready reacted quickly, rushing towards them both, watching as her shock of blonde hair disappeared beneath its body.

"Boss?" He called out but heard nothing in response.

He hooked his hands under the mutant's side and gave it a push. These things were pure muscle and it was evident as he struggled to move it. His teeth grit together as he summoned every ounce of strength he had left. The heels of his boots dug into the asphalt and rooted himself firmly in place, muttering under his breath as he put all of his weight into it. Survived a super mutant horde only to be crushed to death by one of their corpses. Stupid vaultie, why did she even wander out here, to the wastes? Life was so much safer in their giant metal lunchbox underground.

"MacCready," he heard her gasp and he paused.

She shot her hand out and he grabbed firmly onto her wrist, making sure to keep one hand on the mutant's side to keep it from falling back down on her. With one tug he was able to dislodge her and she clawed her way out from underneath, looking worse for wear. Rust colored stains coated strands of her hair and covered her neck and shoulders in thick, crusty splotches. Fresh blood dripped from a cut at her scalp and he realized, in that moment, she looked almost… predatory. Like Femme-Ra in In the Lair of the Virgin Eater. Her hand fluttered to her shoulder with a hiss and she shook her head, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear.

"Mother fuckers," she ground out. There was a certain feral energy to her as she turned her simmering glare to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, boss. I'm doing better than you at the moment. How…" he started, not really sure how to phrase his question. "Okay, where did you learn to use a blade like that?"

"Impressed, are you?" A ghost of a smirk pulled at her lips before her face fell once more. She moved over to the mutant and placed a boot against its face and grabbed onto the hilt of her machete. As she talked, she began to tug and pull, trying to dislodge her weapon. "It was taught to me by someone. Long time ago. I might be shit at firing a weapon, but I'll be damned if I let anyone get the better of me in hand-to-hand."

"You can say that again," he let out a low whistle and nodded to the dead mutant underneath her boot. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

At this, she let out a bark of laughter, finally dislodging her weapon with a squelch. Her injured arm dangled at her side and she wiped the blade of her machete against the leg of her jumpsuit. A rumble echoed above them and they paused, looking over the horizon. The rad storm had caught up to them and he heard the Geiger counter on her pip-boy began to tick away; a warning. Of course. MacCready felt a groan bubble up from his chest and he let his head fall forward.

"C'mon, boss. Let's find some shelter and get you patched up. We can wait out this storm and continue once it passes." He thumbed in the direction of the building behind them. "This place should be fine."

"The sooner we head back out, the better," she sounded disappointed. "I'm already late."

"Well, if we had maybe left on time this morning…"

"Watch it," Vivian pointed her machete in warning.

He put his hands up in defense. "I'm just saying."

"You really want to play that game? Remember when I told you to pick them off from afar so this," she gestured to the bloodied mutant at her feet, "wouldn't happen? I haven't been covered in this much blood that wasn't mine since... well, ever."

"Red looks good on you," he said easily, watching as her face scrunched up into something resembling disgust. "If that helps at all."

"Enough out of you. Let's just get inside, my arm is killing me."

"Sure thing, boss."


I have a difficult time writing action scenes. Hopefully this wasn't too awful! Thanks and R+R!