When she woke up, Ike could feel the swelling on her right temple. She couldn't open that eye and groaned when she tried to blink, her left eye hazy as she blinked away the blood and sleep.

The air was cold and stale, the walls metal and reminding her of either an abandoned Vault or one of the subway offices. She tried to stand but found her ankles were bound to the legs of the chair she was seated in, her wrists tied with rough ropes behind her back. She looked around, her heart beating fast in her chest. Where the hell was she? What had happened? Right, right she was knocked out by some asshole near Rivet City. Why hadn't a guard seen her get attacked? Well, people were attacked in the Wasteland all the time. It wasn't all that abnormal or alarming unless she was inside the city.

"She's awake," someone said from behind her.

Ike growled like a feral beast, glaring with her one open eye at the tall, normally imposing figure now standing above her. "Oh course," she quipped. "Well Jabsco, I see your eye isn't infected like I expected."

The tall man looked down the length of his nose at her, the outside of his left eye ringed in pink beneath the grubby bandage he had taped over it. He looked nothing like his soldiers, dressed in heavy metal armor and a combat helmet that was hooked to his belt loop. He was also clean shaven, almost sparkly. Without the scar, she had thought he would fit in well in the Vault. But then he was firing at her and trying to stab her with that modified combat knife and she realized he would rather eliminate the Vault dwellers than join them.

"Ike," he chuckled a little. "The great Lone Wanderer, savior of the Wastes, in the hands of Talon Company, at our mercy. Pathetic, just pathetic."

"Pathetic," Ike snickered, twisting her wrists, trying to pull herself out of the chair but failing. "Pathetic is the leader of the most feared mercenary group in the Wasteland being attacked and maimed by a little girl from a pampered Vault. Now that is pathetic you piece of sh-"

Her head snapped to the right as he landed a heavy flat palm connected with her face. She choked out a clot of blood, spitting it on the metal floor at her feet. She began to laugh, grinning at him through matted hair. She didn't care about his ploy, his arrogance or his heavy hand. She didn't care about anything anymore. Maybe this would be the day he finally killed her.

"You hit like a bitch," she snarled.

He struck her again, this time with a closed fist, and she still laughed.

Harkness was making his rounds through the lower deck, getting ready to retire to his cot in the tower. It had been a long, uneventful day since Ike had departed and he was more haggard than usual. Maybe it was that whiskey he had with lunch, it hadn't tasted right and Bonnie was known to slip things in her booze. Mentats perhaps? Mixed with alcohol, it made a lagging downer.

He paused as he passed the open door of Butch's small rooms, seeing the three shotguns and a pistol lay out on a small plastic table in the corner of his room. he was wearing light weight leather armor and strapping these weapons to the police-issued holsters strapped across his chest. Harkness finally spoke as Butch shook on his Tunnel Snakes jacket.

"And what are you doing?"

Butch looked over his shoulder for a minute, the young husky-mix pup on the naval cot lifting its head. Harkness wondered briefly where the mutt's father was and then brushed away the curiosity as Butch looked back at him. He pats his thigh, calling the dog forward as it was trained well.

"Going to find Ike," Butch muttered.

Harkness paused, following Butch towards the hangar door. "Wait, why would you want to do that? She said she didn't want anyone following her."

"I don't care what she said, something is going on with Ike," Butch huffed, his shoulders shaking at the chilling air that swept over the bridge. "I don't trust her to be out there alone with a loaded gun. That bitch has always been crazy but…she's never been so unstable."

"And you think going after her is the best idea? When she doesn't want to deal with anyone? When she's aggressive towards those thought to be close to her? What if she turns on you?"

"She's not a wild animal!"

The mutt growled lowly behind his master, who had whirled around to make eye contact with the security guard behind him. Harkness stared at him with those now-aware, artificial blue eyes. As he blinked, Butch could see the extra lenses that made his lids move slip, let him see the glimmer of metal. Butch never trusted the artificial man, never liked him. He had spent his entire life surrounded by electronics and Harkness, despite his new awareness with Ike's help, was just that: a machine.

"I didn't say that," Harkness spoke slowly. "I'm just saying…"

"You don't know Ike like I do," Butch growled, turning his back on Harkness. "She wouldn't hurt me…and a guard said he saw someone getting attacked near the old purifier Ike's dad was working on all those years ago."

Harkness sighed. "It doesn't mean it was her."

"Harkness, can you just piss off, alright?"

The security officer did stop, watched Butch walk down the ramp and into the metaphorical sunset.

"I feel like shit," Ike muttered, rubbing her bruised jaw.

She had been trapped in this hell hole for God-knows how long. She had been interrogated, that was what it felt like. But they hadn't asked for anything. This wasn't just the Talon Company being a dick to their number one target, this was them looking for something. But they would have asked…she sighed, moving so she could place her head between her knees.

What the hell could they be looking for? She didn't know anything, not anymore. The only thing she knew was where her father was, and that was months old news. It was…baffling. For the first time in a long time, Ike didn't know what to do. The Lone Wanderer was her moniker and she really held up to it, she was always alone. Hell she didn't even bring Dogmeat on most of her journeys anymore. She was always able to figure out her own problems, figure her way out of a tight spot.

How was she going to figure this one out?

She looked up at the clock above the door, half hidden by pipes and grates. She raised an eyebrow and stood, padding towards it slowly, staring at it with intrigue. Ike hummed, walking back over to the cot she was given. She chuckled and raised her right leg, slamming her foot down on the cushion. It groaned and shook, but didn't give. She frowned and then did it again, grinning madly as it finally shook and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"Seriously? They didn't think of this?"

Ike wrapped her fingers around the metal bar sticking out of the wall, a metal bar that once held her bed. She grit her teeth and groaned, pulling on the bar with all her might. It groaned, creaked and she hissed. Her eyes grew wide as she tumbled back, the bar in her hands. She caught herself and then blinked a few times. She tossed the bar into the air, catching it so perfectly she wished she had a camera to capture the moment. Oh how she would enjoy someone else to see that awesome little tid bit.

But the Talons would be enough.