The bullet embedded itself in Verrah's left side.
The German shepherd's ears laid flat. Barking and snarling, he attacked the assailant.
Verrah's eyes widened, and she gasped for air. She looked down where blood dripped from her side, staining her pristine Vault suit. Her chest heaved with breaths. From both shock and pain.
This was the first time she had ever been shot. And she did not enjoy the white-hot sensation.
Her head rolled over to see the man hitting the dog with the butt of his rifle. Teeth gritted and right hand over her wound, she raised her pistol. Steadied her breathing best she could. Closed her right eye. She took a deep breath, and on the exhale, she fired.
The attacker grunted and dropped. With a distance of only six to seven feet from the gun, and only a thin metal breastplate protecting him, the bullet struck his chest and rendered him deceased.
The shepherd sniffed the body a bit then trotted over, tongue hanging out again.
She let her arm fall. Sat back against the car.
And now she killed her first person. However, she didn't feel like she speculated she would when this fateful day came. In fact, she felt normal. No different than she was before. What did that say about her personality? Did that make her a bad person? But her dad used to tell her it's sometimes necessary to kill for survival.
The dog barked and nudged her hand covering her wound.
Verrah looked at him. "What?" Then she looked at her side. The blood had stopped flowing. Her head slightly tilted. She sucked air through her teeth as her flesh felt like it moved.
Studying her side again, her eyes widened. Her muscles mended themselves. Slowly pushing out the bullet. Her skin repaired itself. Appeared completely normal. The only thing that gave away being injured was the small tear in the stained blue suit.
The pain was gone. Just like that. She felt the same as before she got shot. Her breathing quickened. What on earth?
What did they do to her in that Vault?
Her eyes remained wide as she slowly turned to the dog. She could heal herself? When did that become a thing? It was from the Vault, wasn't it? The technicians with their "mystical properties" crap. So it was true, then? Though, it didn't explain why they dyed her hair. Not that she was going to complain about anything.
But why would those at Vault-Tec give her healing abilities? How did they even give her those abilities? It wasn't like magic existed. Though, she couldn't come up with any science to back up what just happened to her. Then again, she couldn't come up with the science to explain how she was the only one who survived being cryogenically frozen for two hundred and ten years.
Nostrils flaring, she searched the ground. Wondering if any Vault-Tec personnel were still alive. It seemed strange that all of them were dead. Why wouldn't they preserve their own? Was there a Vault somewhere filled with the workers? Were they laughing and celebrating while everything around them crumbled?
The rise in anger made her instincts finally kick in. She drilled the dog. "We're getting into that museum." Reaching out, she grabbed the dead man's foot and dragged his body behind the car. Removed his armor, even the holed chest plate and strapped it on herself. Picked up his rifle.
Once she inspected it, she set it aside and rummaged through the guy's pockets. Found .308 ammo to go with the hunting rifle, two stimpaks, and a handful of bottle caps. She took the ammo and stimpaks. Surprised to see the stimulation aid still around. Her brows furrowed at the bottle caps, and she left them.
Night had completely fallen.
Using stealth to her advantage, she advanced. The dog on her heels. The first two people were easily picked off; they were separated from the rest of the group. However, she knew that sniper would be a problem. For the time being, he was occupied with the people in the museum. That was good.
Verrah peeked out from behind the pile of rubble she hid behind. She had one grenade she looted off a body. Eyed the sniper. Whether or not this faction needed to be killed, they had shot her and beat the dog. She gauged the distance from her to the sniper. She needed a clearer line for a good throw.
Motioning out to the group on the ground, she whispered to the dog. "Go get 'em." Watched the shepherd eagerly take off. Watched to see who he attacked. He went for the ones who wore the same makeshift armor as the man who shot her. The ones that were all in the same faction together. Those that were defending the museum, the dog left alone. Seemed to protect, even.
Animals were hardly ever wrong about who were the bad guys and who were the good guys.
Then she crept about some more. Her eyes brightened when she saw the building the sniper perched on left open. Maybe she wouldn't need the grenade. Pistol in hand, she sprinted across the street.
A shadow in the night.
Her 10MM led the way as she entered the building. Head on a swivel and ears tuned. It was hard not making noise in the creaky building, but all the gunfire outside covered her. She dashed up the stairs. Slowing before she reached the top level. She kept her breathing silent. Adjusted her grip on the pistol.
Psyching herself up, she leaned around the corner. The sniper's back was to her. She secured her stance. Lined up a head shot. Taking a last breath, she squeezed the trigger.
The sniper tumbled forward, down to the ground.
Smiling to herself, she ran back down the stairs. Noticed that the faction held up in the museum had emerged. They weren't armored like the others. She made a break for the museum, running inside and catching her breath.
This was certainly an eventful first day of being brought back to life, essentially.
A man in a patched, tan trench coat and a brown hat approached her with a rather science fiction-looking gun and an extremely happy grin. "You took out that sniper, didn't you?
"Yeah." She eyed his glowing red firearm.
"That helps us greatly. He was picking us off like flies. My name is Preston Garvey, and we're the Minutemen. Or what's left of the Minutemen. You may not have heard of us, but we've made it our mission to drive the raiders out of the Commonwealth."
Verrah gave a nod. So the faction outside was the same one that Codsworth had problems with before? Now she was glad she chose to fight them. "My name is Verrah. I'm from…around."
Preston shifted his weight and smiled. "Nice to meet you. Would you be interested in helping us further? This has been what you might consider a last stand. We've lost so many lives. We could certainly use another on our side."
She shrugged. Why not? "I've learned it's best to help those in need."
"Exactly. Here's what I would like for you to do. On the roof, there's a suit of power armor and a crashed Vertibird. It should still have a minigun attached. If it's salvageable, you can use it. When the next wave of raiders come, we can really give it to them."
Preston had her at power armor. She had always wanted to get her hands on a suit. Even if they had been for advanced military purposes. "You got it."
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have no idea what this means for the Minutemen. Here's a fusion core I obtained. None of us have been able to get up there because of that sniper. Godspeed, friend."
She took the core with a nod. Grinned to herself as she clambered through all the destruction of the museum. She didn't have time to reflect on the historic building because her mind was set on the armor. There was nothing she wanted more at the moment.
Opening the roof hatch, she went back outside. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the helicopter. It seemed to have been there awhile. Maybe not before the war as it looked "new," but it hadn't just crashed, either. Then she saw the suit standing outside of the Vertibird. It wasn't a complete suit of power armor, missing some of the outer leg and arm pieces, but it was power armor nonetheless.
Sure, she had just met these Minutemen. And yes, the only thing she knew about them was that they wanted to drive out the raiders. It did strike her as odd that Preston Garvey trusted her so easily, but maybe he was just a good judge of character. Whichever the case, he just gave her access to one of her long-time wishes.
Eyes glittering, she inserted the fusion core. Her nerves tingled as she turned the back valve. All but dancing when it hissed open. She pulled herself in with almost reverence. Giggling when the suit closed around her and the display lit up inside the helmet. Stepped back in a defensive stance, fists high. "Aw, yeah."
She marched over to the Vertibird and ripped off the minigun with her newfound strength. Looked over her shoulder at the building's edge. These things were supposed to absorb all fall damage. She was about to test that claim.
Minigun in both hands, she ran to edge of the building and jumped off. "Woo!" Landed on the battleground with a massive thud and enough force to off-balance everyone. She primed the rotary machine gun. Maybe she could get used this new world, after all. "Who wants a piece of this?"
But the reverberations of her landing awoke something within the ground. Directly down the road from her, a large grate shot off the decrepit pavement. A roar echoing through the night made raiders and Minutemen alike pause. What looked like a drake roared again and sprinted for the humans.
Verrah's heart stopped, and the breath was taken from her lungs. "What the—"
The minigun began firing its rapid succession of rounds.