DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE FALLOUT SERIES. ONLY MY OCS.

Chapter 3: The Blue and Black and the Grey

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Date: April 16, 2285

Location: Robeline, Louisiana

Time: 0125 (1:25 A.M.)

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"-ic!"

Drew heard something but couldn't turn to face where the sound was coming from. There was also an urgent beeping from the Pipboy on his arm. He felt an immense weight on his body and his mouth, nose, and eyes felt gritty, as if he'd fallen asleep in a sandbox.

"-ed-c!"

The sound came back again and he found himself trying to shift and turn away from the noise. His mind was still transfixed on what had happened earlier. The attack. The raiders. His, Sarge, and Will's counter attack...Will's...death?

(No...no that can't be right, Will wasn't killed, he managed to escape...didn't he? No...No it was HIM the raiders dragged outside, not Sarge...Did he survive?)

The images passed by one at a time like old still shots from some prewar camera. Will on his knees. The raider leader he'd maimed. The long knife and then...

(Oh God...he's dead...My best friend is dead because of me! I...I should have listened to that dispatcher and got the hell out of there when I had the chance...If I had then...then Will would still...)

"Medic!"

Drew heard more clearly now. He heard someone calling for a medic but...since when the hell did Raiders give a shit about their own wounded or the wounded of those who fought against them?

Never, that's when.

Which meant one of two things. Either Sarge had managed to get help from a local mercenary company that had trained medics, or...

Drew opened his eyes and saw the I beam laying across him. He moved his gaze to the left and right and saw it supported on several chunks of concrete and rebar that, now that his vision was clearing, saved him from being crushed. Still, he couldn't move his right arm. Probably pinned underneath something. He tried to turn his neck but his whole body ached as if he'd had a building come down on top of him...oh wait, he DID have a building come down on him.

(Those damn raiders...they dynamited the building...damn near killed me...So then...who's calling for a medic?)

"Where's the damned medic?! We have a survivor here!"

Drew turned to see a sight that, had his eyes not been gritty and dry, would have brought tears to them.

Before him, a little ways off in the flickering lights of the ruined building he saw a soldier dressed in the dark and light grey uniform of the Louisiana State Militia or LSM. The gold chevron on his sleeve denoted the rank of Private. The soldier's grey uniform dusted with plaster and dust from climbing through debris all around him.

"Jackson! How the hell do you know if he's alive or not?!"

"He's looking right at me Sergeant!"

"The dead look at everybody Private, now get back in formation! He belongs to the buzzards now."

Suddenly seeing the soldier shift and prepare to leave him to his fate and hearing the same from oithers outside gave Drew a strength he didn't realize he still possessed. His right arm might be pinned, but his left was still working and it was loose. He worked his left arm free and though it hurt like hell to breathe, he sucked in a deep breath and shot his left hand straight up and yelled as loud as he could.

"Help! I'm over here!"

There was an explosions of very colorful words and then a scrambling of feet as he heard more people approach his position. A moment later, a bright light was shined onto his face and he saw another soldier in grey, this one with Sergeant's stripes.

"State your name and affilitation!" Drew had a coughing fit but then nodded.

"Drew Durr, hunter, ranger, and deputy marshall for the town of Robeline!"

Drew had only been a deputy marshall for three months but if saying that got him out of this deathtrap quicker then so be it. Still, that seemed to satisfy the Sergeant who immediately ordered his men to extricate Drew from the rubble while he called for a medic.

The soldiers cleared the small debris but had trouble with the large I beam, for that, Drew saw the Sergeant motion for someone and a moment later he heard a series of mechanical footsteps nearby. He turned and was dumbstruck to see an LSM Power Armor Trooper (PAT) wearing a suit of T-51b Power Armor standing nearby and preparing to lift the beam. A second later another series of steps and on Drew's opposite side stood another LSM PAT with a suit of T-60 Power Armor.

He couldn't hear them speak but he felt them lift the beam together and toss it aside before another soldier, this one wearing a white coat over his grey uniform came up and shined a small light in his eyes and then poked and prodded him all over. The beeping from the Pipboy was getting annoying but then he noted the flashing red light on the casing and the medic reached for it and pushed it. The beeping stopped but the red light still flashed. The medic went back to his examination.

Drew winced when the medic poked a particularly sore spot on his right side, his right shoulder (no doubt from all the shots with the Solothurn), and his head was pounding like an anvil being pounded on by a drunk blacksmith. The medic nodded, stood, and faced the Sergeant.

"Multiple lacerations, looks to be three bruised ribs, slight irritation of the throat from inhaling all this dust, also looks to have repeatedly traumatized his right shoulder for some reason." The Private who had found Drew, Jackson, looked to him and then to the medic.

"Might have something to do with that gigantic rifle we found earlier." Drew coughed and then nodded.

"S-Solothurn...It was...the only thing...we had that...could stop him..."

"Him? Him who?"

"Raider leader...power armor...Dispatch in Coldwater called them...Wolf Skull..."

Drew was rewarded by seeing every single soldier around him pale when he spoke that name. The Sergeant leaned down over him, serious as a heart attack.

"Son...are you saying that Smiling Jack was here? And that you killed him?" Drew shook his head.

"A guy in power armor WAS here, but...he didn't say his name...just went on and on about...telling lies...telling truths...punishing those who lied to him...I...didn't kill him but...I DID maim him...Heh, blew the bastard's right arm off when he executed the mayor. He repaid me though, by bringing this building down with ME in it." The Sergeant nodded and looked at the Medic.

"Doc, keep this man alive while we return to Natchitoches. I don't give a damn how you do it, you could even use voodoo if you think it'll help but DON'T LET HIM DIE. Am I clear?"

The medic nodded and then motioned for the soldiers to help move Drew onto the litter that another soldier had brought while they talked. As he settled onto the litter, the medic stood over him, a syringe in hand.

"Here. This'll numb the pain while you're in transit." The medic injected the painkiller into Drew who began to feel sleepy as the medic nodded, obviously impressed.

"You're one lucky guy to have survived all this..."

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Drew awoke in darkness, nothing in front, beside, or behind him but inky dark. He felt a little unnerved but didn't show it.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

Suddenly a gunshot pierced the silence and the dark that surrounded him shattered like a mirror. Each piece remained motionless where it had broken off and in each piece Drew saw a memory from his past days in Robeline.

The time he and his father had forst gone hunting together.

The time he'd accidentally caught his best friend, Will, in a makeshift net trap he'd built.

The day he'd heard from Marshal Dobson that his father had been killed by a radigator.

Then...

Drew turned and saw a large mirror before him and in that reflection he saw himself but with a knife in his chest and his throat slit. Before he had a chance to be alarmed, the reflection morphed into that of Will, his eyes still buring with that same intense anger that had been present when he'd died.

Will took the knife from his chest and regarded it angrily and then looked to Drew.

"It should have been YOU."

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Date: April 17, 2285

Location: Near Coldwater, Louisiana 18 miles from Natchitoches Outskirts

Time: 1034 (10:34 A.M.)

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Drew came awake all at once with a stabbing pain in his right side where he vaguely recalled something about bruised ribs. As the pain cleared, he began to notice things. The sound of people talking, dogs barking, brahmin lowing, radhogs squealing, and the smell of something delicious sizzling on a skillet nearby.

He knew better than to yell but couldn't help but grunt as he tried to prop himself up until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Sarge's face and then the medic as they came to him.

"Heh, easy there kid. You might not want to upset them ribs any more than you have to."

Together, Sarge and the medic set Drew upright, though they refrained from grabbing his injured right arm. Drew saw it in a sling and looked at the medic curiously.

"Sarge here told us how many shots you fired from that Solothurn rifle. I'm honestly amazed that your shoulderblade wasn't more damaged than it was. You wrenched your arm and the fall in the building completely dislocated it. It'll take a while for that wing to heal but until it does, consider yourself as accepting our hospitality for the moment." Drew looked to the medic curiously.

"Why? Why not simply treat me and then let me go on my way?"

"You got kin anywhere nearby?" Drew shook his head.

"Well that alone is plenty enough reason to hold onto you. Plus, we radioed in what happened to the boss and he wants to meet you. We also happened upon your buddy here who confirms your story. Ol' Smilin' Jack's been causing a stir with the brass lately. So much so that they offered a four-thousand cap bounty on his head." Drew whistled in appreciation of that and the medic nodded.

"Naturally since you only maimed him you can't claim it, they need a head or the whole body, but this information about what you did is enough to net you some type of reward."

"Now then, thirsty? Hungry? Both?"

Drew followed the medic's hand to a coffee pot hanging over a fire nearby and also to a skillet of what smelled like salt pork sizzling on it and smiled.

"Both."

The medic nodded and rose to grab a metal cup and plate and filled the cup with coffee and put salt pork, grits, and a biscuit on the plate before returning.

"The biscuit's a little hard and the grits are dry but the salt pork is perfect. Freshly butchered this morning."

Drew took a sip of the hot coffee and nodded while he opened the biscuit, slid a piece of the salt pork inside and started eating, feeling much revived.

"Sorry we ain't got much flour or pepper for some gravy but it'll have to do. Once you get your strength back, you'll be coming with us to the headquarters to speak with Captain Lee. He's the intel officer in charge of tracking down and eliminating raiders and their ilk from our fair parish. Plus, don't tell the LT but it was the ghoul who cooked the salt pork." Neal gave the medic a questioning look and he sighed.

"I ain't biased, food is food, but alot of folks don't like someone who looks like a corpse touching their food. Think it'll give them leprosy or some other prewar disease." Drew nodded and then looked at Sarge.

"Sarge. One thing bugs me. How did you escape?" Sarge sighed and nodded.

"Much the same way you did kid. When that grenade you warned us about went off, the floor gave way under me and I found myself in the sewer system that ran under the town. Time I got to my feet, Will had already moved a desk to block the hole to prevent anyone from following and I left out that way. If I'd known what they were going to do though..." Drew nodded and then looked back to his plate.

"The bastard toyed with us. Said if I surrendered he'd let Will go. But Will forced his hand, made him admit he was going to kill us both." Sarge nodded sadly and sipped at his own coffee.

"Shoot the hostage." Drew looked at Sarge when he said that.

"What?"

"It's from an old holotape from before the war. Shoot the hostage, take them out of the equation. Leave just you and the bad guy standing, no advantages, no leverage, a straight up fight." Drew shook his head and swallowed the bite he had in his mouth.

"Except for one thing."

"What's that?" Drew took a sip of coffee.

"When do raiders stick around for a straight up fight?" Sarge looked at him, slackjawed, then laughed.

"Never. They're all too cowardly to fight a straight fight."

Suddenly there was a commotion and someone yelled in a loud voice.

"It's that bitch again!"

Drew rose and was helped by Sarge to where the commotion was taking place and saw a villager standing before a very large (and angry) female dog. Sarge held him back as he saw her.

"Hold it. That dog's part wolf. See the tail, the fur, and the eyes? That's what marks them when you're up close. Looks like she's part Shepard too... Shame she's feral, she's absolutely gorgeous."

The wolf dog was indeed gorgeous, her fur was mainly black with tinges of grey along the tips of her tail, ears, and paws, and her main coat on her body and legs had tan and brown undertones that gave away her Shepard parentage.

Her eyes were another striking feature; they seemed to glow with an inner golden-yellow light that gave them an unnerving quality. Drew looked around and then saw the man who had yelled in the first place, ready to bring a club down on the dog's head.

"Hold it! What the hell are you thinking?" The man looked at him as if he were crazy and then pointed at her with the club.

"She's a wild animal she is, always killin' and devourin' our livestock. She's even bit one or two people but always got away." Drew looked at her and saw she was clearly emaciated.

"How much does she usually take?" The man grew angry and then looked at the dog.

"How the hell should I know, I keep my livestock in the barn at night when she usually prowls, but the other folk, they've seen her plenty o' times draggin a radhog, a stag, or a somethin else away." Drew looked at the man and then to the medic.

"How many caps for two radhog hams?" The medic looked to him and quickly did the math.

"Here where pork is the most common source of meat? Raw is thirty caps, cooked is-"

"Raw. Bone-in." The medic met his eyes and then nodded he understood and then grabbed Drew's hand as he reached for his pocket where he kept his caps.

"No you don't, I said you were under MY supervision and thus in need of MY hospitality. I'll pay for 'em, but... do you really think you can do what I think you're tryin' to do?" Drew laughed.

"Tame a wolf? No. Tame a dog? Yes."

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A few moments later the medic returned with two hams and a string of curious people who wanted to see what was going on. More than one person gasped when Drew took a ham and started easing towards the animal they had come to dislike. The wolf dog eyed him warily as he approached.

Drew, having spent countless years in the woods, hunting animals and raising them, knew the signs of aggression, but he also knew the signs of desperation.

This animal might act aggresively, but it was all an act. She was just trying to survive as best as she knew how. The dog's wolf part knew that human livestock was weak and easy prey but the dog in her craved to be around people, to interact with them, to be loved by them.

Obviously she was conflicted.

Drew carefully closed with her and then held the ham out in front of her.

"Here. This is to take the edge off."

Once she understood he was GIVING the meat to her, she snapped it out of his hand and went to tearing at it, occasionally looking at the people who had chased her and tried to hit her time and again and enjoying their looks of apprehension when she ripped a particularly large chunk of flesh from the bone or when she bit down on the bone and heard it crunch between her fangs.

In no time at all the meat was gone and she was licking the bone, trying to get the marrow that was leaking from where she'd bitten into it. Then she saw movement and saw Drew produce yet another ham and hold it before her.

This time, she felt a sense of calm from Drew and closed towards him with a curious glance. Her head cocked to one side, her eyes darting back and forth among the crowd until she was close enough to him. This time however, she opened her mouth and took the meat without snapping at it and started calmly, if somewhat daintily, eating it.

It took longer for her to eat the second ham as she was eating slowly but once it was gone, she rose and looked at Drew again. The people knew he'd only had the two hams and looked to see what the dog did next.

Drew held out his hand, palm down, and motioned towards her with his head. Slowly, gingerly, the dog drew near until almost touching his hand and then, much to the shock of everyone gathered, lowered her head and placed it under Drew's hand.

Drew smiled and started rubbing the dog's head and stroking the fur in between her ears. From the dog's expression, she seemed to enjoy it immensely. He mouth was parted, her tongue lolled out to the side, and she was panting lightly. Drew nodded to Sarge and the medic and then turned back to the dog.

"There's a good, smart girl." Sarge whistled and he heard someone behind him utter that famous southern quality 'Well I'll be damned'. Drew chuckled and looked to the men behind him.

"Give a wolf a bone and you've a friend for ten seconds, give a dog a bone and you've a friend for life."

The man who'd been about to club her looked as if he'd eaten a bowl of brahmin shit. He frowned and hefted the club as he started to take a step towards Drew and the dog.

Instantly, the dog turned from Drew's hand, standing protectively in front of him, paws slayed, mouth agape, ears back, eyes wide, and lips pulled back in a viscious snarl and growled loudly. The man froze in his tracks as he saw this transformation and Drew looked up to him.

"I've civilized her, but I doubt I'll ever get the wolf out of her. You best get on and forget about this dog before she decides to do to you what she did to those hams."

The man stammered something unintelligible, dropped the club, and bolted for the nearest building. As soon as he was out of sight, the dog relaxed and went right back to panting happily under Drew's petting.

"I'll have to give you a name now, won't I?"

As if in answer, the dog's tail started swishing back and forth.