I had written the Brotherhood Of Steel in the D.C. ruins asking if they'd be willing to nominate someone in their faction to be interviewed for my book. The response I got was on a professional letterhead with the official seal of Sentinel Lyons himself.
The document had only two typed words on it. Not even words – a name. Lisi Ross.
I traveled to the Citadel under escort of a few mercenaries. I was thankful to make it in one piece. When I arrived I was directed to sit underneath some hasty cam, out of the sun, at a make shift patio table set close enough that I could watch the new initiates be put through the ringer.
A slender blonde female walked towards me. She looked as though she'd just come from a lengthy run or intense work out. She was clad in some very short running shorts and a tightly fitting black sports bra. I may regret writing this due to fear my girlfriend will dump me but I was certainly caught off guard by the attractive young woman who was now sitting across from me with a stoic expression.
-XXX-
I was told to come speak to you.
/I'm sorry. Did they not give you notice I was coming today?/
No.
/Did your superiors tell you anything?/
Only that you want to know my life story or something. I hardly see what's worth knowing about me. Why anyone would want my words in a book is beyond my logic.
/Perhaps you can start off by telling me who you are exactly? That may set the tone./
Whatever. My name is Medic Paladin Lisi Ross. Lisi is just a nickname and no, I don't tell people my real name. I was named after my great great great … might be some more greats in there … grandmother. She was some hero in what was Western Canada.
My mother and father were both Doctors in a Ghoul refugee camp near Ronto trying to come up with a cure for "Ghoulification."
I was fifteen when radicals terrorized my home. Fucking Ghoul haters. Thought what my parents were doing was a crime against God or something. They killed my parents and slaughtered everyone in the camp. I was the only survivor cause some sick pedophile fuck took a liking to me if you know what I mean.
My skills in the field of medicine were something of value too. The daughter of two doctors certainly learned a lot when aiding in their efforts to help the sick, injured or dying.
"Daddy" … or so my newly adopted guardian made me call him … made sure I treated any of the battered up murderers who came sulking back to our camp.
I was disgusted in myself, but went on for a year. I tried to kill myself twice and failed each time. I just couldn't finish myself off in the end. I'm thankful now that I lived cause how I avenged my parents and those innocent Ghouls of the refugee camp is just about the only thing I'm proud of.
The radicals were like and extermination squad. They migrated from place to place killing anything that wasn't human. We were near D.C. when I was allowed to tag along on a supply run to clean out an abandoned hospital. In my search for supplies I came across something I thought I'd never see. In a climate-controlled refrigerator I found vials and vials of synthetic Insulin.
Those with any degree of medical knowledge know that Insulin is a naturally occurring hormone secreted by our pancreas to aid with digestion. I suppose I'll dumb it down for your readers. Insulin breaks down glucose … sugar. Sugar is what feeds your brain. Too much insulin in your body means no more sugar. No more sugar means brain starves and dies. It's rather quick too. Best part is there is no evidence except a tiny needle mark – if they can find it. The body metabolizes all the insulin too so there really is no way to tell cause of death.
People began dying and no one knew why. The other medical personnel were dumbfounded. I'd get them while they slept. They never felt my tiny needle pierce their skin. Never woke up. Soon there were only a handful of extremists left. Daddy began to panic and thought a plague was killing everyone.
Next thing you know, they're all killing each other thinking some infection was going around. After a few hours the slaughter was over and Daddy and I were the only ones left. He was certain I would be able to come up with a cure. I assured him I had a solution and next thing you know – the fucker is rolling up his sleeve ready to take whatever shot I was going to give.
How stupid could you possibly be?
Within minutes he began acting like an idiot. That's what happens. Your brain becomes starved of glucose and you act like a violent fool. I was able to hide while the drug took effect and soon, he was unconscious. I wish I could have made his death a little more elaborate but I'm not one for theatrics.
Suddenly I was free and with absolutely no direction whatsoever. I had very little survival skills apart from a bitter attitude and my semi advance medical knowledge. It was enough to keep me alive for another year of wandering the wastes.
During one of my scavenging missions I came across a wounded Brotherhood of Steel Knight. He was very badly injured and had been separated from his team when Super Mutants had attacked. I never showed pity on anyone since I'd been taken away from my family until now.
I suppressed the desire to slit his throat, take his power armour and move on but instead I treated his wounds. He was way too unstable to be moved so I stayed with him and monitored his progress.
On day one I told him the odds of survival were unlikely. He tried talking to me but I wouldn't say much back. I didn't want to get to know him. I figured he'd be dead soon and my conscious clear that I had done all I could. I thought for sure he was dead the next morning when I looked over and saw his eyes were closed but then I saw his chest rise and fall. Some how he had lived.
Day two was the worst. He developed a really bad fever and I was running low on anti-pyretic medication. He started to hallucinate and I had to sit beside him and talk to him the whole time so he didn't lose sight of himself. It was pretty awkward. There came a point when I started to just make up stories cause I couldn't think of anything else to say.
By day three his fever had broke and his wounds looked to be healing nicely. I let him stabilize before I attempted to move him. He told me of a place nearby where he was from. A place called The Citadel and that we should go there. When we got to the Citadel, the Brotherhood offered me a position amongst them almost instantly when they heard what I had done for one of their own.
I was reluctant at first but something made me want to stay.
/Paladin Ross looks over her shoulder in the direction of a young man walking towards us. He introduces himself as Paladin Glade and stands behind Ross.
"She tell you how she saved my life? Scooped me up out there in the wastes when no one was coming back for me?" he tells me. I smile and nod.
Ross just rolls her eyes./
As I was saying. This is my home now. I make sure everyone comes back not just with all their limbs but their lives as well. I go out there with them just as any other member of the team. If some one gets hurt, they scream for me.
/At that moment, Paladin Glade speaks up again. He explains how Ross is needed as there is some wounded who need their dressings changed. Ross stands up, apologizes that our interview has to be cut short and politely excuses herself. As the two of them walk away I notice when they think no one is looking, Ross slips her hand into that of Paladin Glades and the two embrace in a short kiss before disappearing into the medical building.
I can't help but smile a little./
