1.1

"Hit the sarsaparilla bottle," Nathan told Elizabeth, who was wearing boots, beige pants with a bunch of pockets, and a white tank top. She pulled back the string of her bow and let the arrow fly through the air, slam into the bottle, and shatter it into several medium sized pieces. The soda fizzed and got everywhere.

"You didn't think to empty out the bottle first?" Elizabeth asked him. He shrugged. They each had a bow. Nathan's was a traditional bow, more Spartan than lavish, and Elizabeth's was a more technical model with a stabilizer, a laser pointer, and a system of pulleys that made it easier to draw the arrows back.

Nathan shrugged. He was wearing khaki shorts and a red t-shirt, and he had trimmed black stubble on his face, which was tanner than it was six months ago. "Do you and Harold want to come collect that bounty I found last week?"

"Yeah. Are you done looking for New Cilicia?" Elizabeth asked him. "You were adamant about it half a year ago."

"I was," he agreed. "But not so much right now. Go back to the HQ and grab Harold and your gear. Bring the prototype plasma arrows too."

"Sure. Stay here." Elizabeth ran back to the Railroad HQ at a leisurely pace. It had moved to a new location many months ago, and that location was the now-vacant Vault 002. The Railroad gave the folks in the vault an ultimatum – leave or fight, and a lot of them left, even Darrel. Some of the oppressed vault dwellers stayed behind to join the Railroad, but most of the vault's leaders and security weren't welcomed by the Railroad. Deacon let Lisa have the final call when it came to new members.

Elizabeth slipped into her room, which used to be Darrel's. It was one of the larger ones, rigged with a chem lab and a workbench. Darrel had a polished metal desk painted to look like mahogany, and attached to the end of his desk were two leather straps.

Elizabeth could only assume that the straps were originally used to restrain women that Darrel fucked over the desk sideways, but after a blacklight scan and a deep clean of the room, she decided to leave them there because she thought they were kind of funny. She used them to keep rolled up schematics and papers in place.

Lisa knocked on Elizabeth's door while opening it.

"You'd might as well not knock," Elizabeth told her. She dug into her dresser and pulled out a t-shirt with a black and white doodle of Picasso's Don Quixote sketch.

Lisa was wearing a black leather jacket, a red flannel shirt, a black tank, and tanned cargo pants. "Yes, but you love seeing me. What are you up to?"

"I'm going out with Nathan," she replied. "Why? What's up?"

"Are you and Nathan banging?" asked Lisa.

"Nope."

"And you're still straight?"

"Lisa, you know if I weren't you'd be the first one I'd tell." Elizabeth dug around for her jacket too, which was a grey and soft zipper hoodie.

"Come back in time for dinner." Lisa left Elizabeth's room so she could change into her shirt and jacket, made from the technology she stole from Vault 002 six months ago. It was essentially ballistic fiber but lighter and less penetrable.

Elizabeth opened the door to the room next to hers. "Big guy, you want to kick some ass?" she asked Harold.

Harold popped out of the room. He wasn't full sized yet, but he was five feet tall standing on his hind legs, and he looked like one scary son of a bitch. He gave a little grunt and started to follow Elizabeth down the hall. Lisa gave his head a pat as the two walked out.

She met up with Nathan down the road and handed him three prototype plasma arrows.

"Raider boss called Jackie," said Nathan. "Think we can handle that?"

"I'd say so," she told Nathan.

1.2

Jackie was twisting a butterfly knife in his hands and flipping it over his fingers. He was nonchalant and bored, waiting for one of his subordinates to come and tell him something fun.

He yawned. He almost wished he would hear gunfire soon, just so he had someone to kill. A big guy with a baseball bat ran into his office. "There's a man, a woman, and a deathclaw in the compound!" he told Jackie.

Jackie pulled out his revolver and ran into the hallway, his actions reminiscent of all of the other attacks he'd had on his compound. "Where are they? I want to skin that deathclaw and wear its head as a hat!"

He and the big man ran down the hallway. Jackie ran up to find a man in a red t-shirt firing arrows into his subordinates. Jackie aimed his revolver at the guy, but not before a mid sized deathclaw leapt in front of the way, absorbing the bullets with the hide on his back.

"Get over there!" Jackie told the big man.

The big guy started to charge hesitantly with his bat, and Jackie fired more at the deathclaw. A third person, a woman in a sweater, ran out behind Jackie, and he spun around and aimed at her.

She was holding a bow with a green-tipped arrow pulled back. A red dot was pointing at his chest. He fired his gun just as she released her arrow, and the bullet hit her chest, and the arrow hit his.

The bullet fell harmlessly off of Elizabeth, but the plasma arrow burned through the ballistic weave of Jackie's suit. Jackie stumbled back, firing twice more before collapsing onto the ground.

Soon, the commotion died down.

"You sure know where the right arteries are," Nathan said casually. "You and Harold always get them right where they bleed."

Elizabeth took Jackie's revolver off of the ground. "I still can't quite aim right."

"No, but you're a fast learner. I'm telling you – bows over guns every time. We're like a pre-war comic duo."

"Thanks, Nate."

"Let's go back," he suggested, and she agreed.

2.1

Martin had really grown into himself in the last six months. His armor fit completely, and he could lift his sword with one hand now. He had stubble, something that he could never really grow before he lost weight, since stubble used to be too patchy on his double chins. His stubble was blond and even, and his hair was shaved slightly on the sides and combed up on the top of his head.

He was drinking purified water, and he and Candice were talking and walking towards a small market square.

It was a gated former basketball court with traders and caravan guards. He and Candice were browsing the goods.

"Hey," an armor trader called to Martin. "Nice armor. Where from?"

"A Hubris Comics store," replied Martin.

"Fancy!" the trader commented. "Fancy sword too," he added. "How much?"

"They're not for sale," Martin replied. He took a little step back.

"Well." The trader smiled genuinely. "Come back if you're ever interested."

"Martin, you could have gotten a load of caps for your armor," she informed him.

"Yeah, but I found it! Fair and square, Candy."

Candice bought ammo for her laser rifle, a 10mm pistol, and a combat armor chest piece to go over her vault suit. "How do I look?" she asked Martin.

"Good," he replied.

They paid for the items quickly, and then went over to the food stand. There was a woman in a dark coat and sunglasses sitting drinking vodka like water. "Come here you two." Her voice was flat and emotionless. "Have you seen this woman?" She held up a photo of a woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and smooth, model-like features. She looked like somebody had sculpted her themselves, choosing the prettiest features they could think of.

"Why are you looking for her?" Candice asked skeptically. She saw herself in the woman in the photo – blonde, blue-eyed, and gorgeous.

"She is a wanted criminal in the Commonwealth," the lady explained. "I would pay you handsomely for her return."

"How much?" asked Martin.

"100 now, 500 when she's returned," the woman told them.

"Seems easy," Martin told Candice. "Are you down?"

"Yes," she replied. "But tell me your name first," she said to the stranger.

"Xandra," she informed her. "But you may call me Madame X until the completion of your task."

"We'll look for your criminal," said Candice.

Madame X nodded and handed them the woman's picture, as well as a bag of 100 caps. "She's most likely using a fake name."

"Okay," said Candice.

"Now what?" asked Martin.

"Now we look for that criminal!" Candice announced.

2.2

Music pulsed and lights flashed as Martin and Candice entered the house of ill repute. Martin thanked god that his helmet covered his face, since he was redder than after a workout. He was also thankful that his armor hid his crotch too. The beautiful women in various states of undress performing their 'acts' were making it hard for Martin to concentrate.

Candice, though, was completely focused on the task at hand. She almost seemed annoyed by the dancers twisting their bodies to entice the men in the joint.

Candice dragged a blushing Martin to the bar. "Sir, we have some questions," she said to the bartender.

He looked them up and down and said, "What brings a blonde bird and a Grognak wannabe here today?"

"We're looking for someone," Candice told him.

"Hey, aren't we all?" he asked. "If it's the manager, he's in his office. He's, eh, interviewing new employees… if you will." He grinned.

"We're not here for your manager," said Candice. "We're looking for a woman."

"Couple of swingers, eh?" asked the bartender. "Alright, tell me which girl you want and I'll… arrange it for you." He seemed eager at the thought of making some extra money.

"We're looking for this woman." Candice handed the bartender the picture.

Without seeming suspicious at all of the fact that the two had a photo, the bartender said, "The new girl, huh? Yeah, sure." He walked over to the stage and said to the woman on stage, "hey new girl, get the fuck down here!"

The woman in the picture got down from the stage in a white lace bra and panties. "What's up?" she asked in an unidentifiable accent. It could have been pre-war French or Russian, but Candice genuinely had no clue.

"This couple here wants a night with you," the bartender said. "Swingers, I'd guess."

"Yes, we're new to the scene," Candice lied. "We're hoping you can offer up your services for tonight."

"Okay, sir and ma'am." The dancer smiled. "Let's get this business out of the way, then," she suggested. She sauntered off with Martin and Candice trailing after her.

"Candice, are we really going to have a threeway?" Martin asked, somewhat hopefully.

"No Martin," she whispered. "I just want to get this girl alone."

The woman ushered them into a private room and locked the door behind them. "Help yourselves to a drink," she offered. "And you, stud, ought to get out of that armor. Payment in advance," she added quickly.

"We're not really here for that, ma'am," Candice told her.

"What?" The dancer demanded. "What are you here for, then?"

Candice pulled the photo from her pocket and showed it to the woman. "We're here to ask you some questions."

"She sent you here, didn't she?" The dancer demanded. She was backing up slowly, her eyes locked with Candice's.

"She? She who?" asked Martin.

"X6-91," responded the dancer. "She's an Institute Courser! I know you know her – she had to have sent you here." The dancer was beginning to panic, backing into a wall.

"Candice, wasn't the institute destroyed?" Martin mumbled to his companion.

"Are you a synth?" Candice ignored Martin.

"I'm not going back!" The dancer cried. "Not to that pervert! And you can't take me back!" She whipped a laser pistol out from under a pillow and aimed it at Candice. She pulled out her own 10mm pistol and aimed it back at the dancer.

"Guys!" Martin shuffled in between them. "Let's talk this out like adults! Candy – gun down."

"No," Candice responded. "Not until she puts hers down."

Martin leaned forward to take his helmet off. "Look," he said to the dancer. "We can't help you unless you talk to us." He put the helmet on the bed and looked at her. His hair was a little damp, but there was no sweat on his face. "Please. Are you a synth?"

The two women lowered their guns at the same time.

"Yes," said the dancer. "E5-72," she told him. "But I call myself Elsa."

"Okay, well I'm Martin, and this is Candy. How long ago did you escape the Institute?"

"Well, it was destroyed," said Elsa. "But a lot of the scientists and synths escaped and set up shop in Queens… And now that Courser is after me!" tears began to pool in her eyes, and she sat on the bed, trying not to sob.

"I don't understand. Why did you escape?" Martin asked.

"The man who created me… he was obsessed with this pre-war fashion model… he used me as his entertainment."

"Why didn't you go to the Railroad?" Martin demanded.

"Martin," Candice said. "You're being insensitive."

Before Martin could reply, Elsa said, "Not all synths make it there. Not all synths even know where to find it. I got away on my own and I'm hiding out in this club… I get paid, and I get to pick my clients…"

"Well, what do we do now?" asked Martin.

"We can't let her go back to that scientist," said Candice. "So we need to get rid of Madame X."

"Yes!" Elsa exclaimed. "If you can get rid of the courser, I'll… pay you!" She declared. "With money, or with my body if I have to."

Martin blushed, and, looking at Elsa's lingerie he felt his dick knock against the pants of his armor. Whoops.

"We don't have to go that far," Candice assured her. "Just pay us in caps, and that should do."

3.1

Ben was 12 years old. He turned 12 five months ago, and he spent a lot of his birthday sitting at Paladin Logan's grave. He was back there today, on the six-month anniversary of Logan's death.

Ben was holding a plastic flower he fished from a general store, wearing a new squire uniform. "Hey Logan," he said. He was taller than he used to be, and his hair was no longer buzzed. It was now black and trimmed. The Brotherhood doctor told him he would grow up to be over six feet tall, and everyone kept telling him he'd grow up to be a Star Paladin too.

No longer skinny, Benjamin was five feet two inches tall, 102 pounds, and he wished Logan were still around to see him. "I hit my first bulls-eye yesterday with a laser rifle." He placed the flower at the grave. "Squire Lawrence gave me whiskey for the first time. I know you used to want to have a beer with me when I grew up." He wiped the tears forming in his eye. "When I'm old enough to think it tastes good, I'll come here and drink one. I'll also find Major Wolfe. I miss you."

"Squire Benjamin?" A male voice asked. Benjamin turned around to see Star Paladin Harris in jeans a t-shirt. He was handsome as ever, despite his crooked nose. "Thought I'd find you here, kid."

Benjamin looked down at the grave, epitaph reading, "The Man Who Singlehandedly Brought the Brotherhood to The Liberty Wastes. Paladin Logan."

"He was a fine man," Harris told Benjamin. "You'll be too."

"I want to be just like he was," Ben replied.

"Few men can be," said Harris. "We've eradicated so many slavers and raiders since he brought us here." He shook his head. "Maxson wants to take out the Railroad next."

"Good," Ben replied.

Harris gave Ben a quick pat on the shoulder. "Right."

4.1

Valerie was sitting in one of the main rooms of Vault 002, playing cards with David and Vic. They all banned Elizabeth from playing with them, since she only knew how to play by cheating, so she was somewhere outside of the vault with Nathan.

Vic and David were playing caravan, while Valerie was watching. "Remember the first time you met David?" Vic asked her.

She was almost fifteen now, almost finished with the awkward stages of puberty. Almost. She had pretty blond hair and a radiant smile, and she was wearing an old vault suit with the sleeves cut off.

"I remember," Valerie mumbled. She also had on a black lace choker – a "typical teen thing", according to Vic, who seemed to be a good source of information when it came to teens.

"I was covered in so much blood you thought there was a new type of ghoul," David recalled.

Vic's hair had grown out a lot, with about one inch of his roots showing under the bleached portion of his hair. "I win! Caravan!" He pointed to two of his piles and David groaned.

"Two out of three, then?" David requested.

They reshuffled and dealt again.

"I've never seen an NCR ranger like that, man," said Vic. "David took out at least six legionnaires before I even noticed we started the assault." He gave David a friendly pat. "Good man."

"Thank you, Vic," said David. "Valerie's come quite a long way too," he added. David's hair grew out again, and he was back to wearing a bandana to keep it out of his face. He also had a mildly long scruff, and he got his NCR ranger jacket back.

"Thanks. I'm right here," Valerie told him.

"It's a compliment," Vic offered. "A long way since you were a whiney thirteen year old girl with a knack for complaining."

So, the next chapter will probably be a birthday chapter for Ridley, Quasar and Cam's submitter, on May 14th. Unless I can squeeze in a chapter before that, at least, but I doubt it.