Hello everyone, hope you are doing well.

First, thank you to the people who have reviewed/favorite/followed..., knowing that you enjoy the story makes me happy.

Don't hesitate to make any positive or negative remarks.

Today a longer chapter, mainly because the begininng of this chapter was initially the ending of the previous one.

Please enjoy


Damian felt like he had been in that tunnel forever. He looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel, thinking that it would have been so easy to teleport to the alien ship and back down to Pittsburgh.

"Just a few more miles and we're there," Wernher warned him.

Damian gathered his gear. The train tunnel was in fact a giant maze. On their way, Damian had lightened the walls and saw some indications left by the Pitt slavers, pointing to their home or the Capital Wasteland.

"This is it," Wernher finally said.

With the faint light of the headlights, Damian could see a small slope in front of them. Wernher cut the generator and the handcar went down the slope before coming to a standstill. A few meters further on, Damian could see a large steel door, which closed the tunnel and from which the setting sunlight filtered in.

Wernher jumped from the handcar and approached the door and look outside. He returned a few moments later.

"All right, it looks clear. When you reach the city gates, you'll be searched, so don't expect to be able to bring anything in with you. I'll find a way to get your stuff in, so give it to me."

Damian looked at him suspiciously.

"If I wanted to strip you, I would have done it in the tunnel!" Wernher cried out in an annoyed tone.

Reluctantly Damian nodded. He followed Wernher outside. They were in a passage similar to the entrance to Evergreen Mill, stuck in a rocky crevasse. In the distance, Damian could see factory chimneys from which thick black smoke was billowing. Freight cars were stopped on the side of the track and a red brick industrial building was just beside the entrance to the tunnel.

There was a strange smell in the air. A mixture of detergent, rotten eggs, and burnt food.

Damian followed Wernher to an asphalt road, going into a tunnel in the mountain. The road was blocked by wrecks of cars, trucks and military vehicles.

On the left, a ruined building had recently been used as a camp for people, judging by the small mattresses and the remains of campfires on the ground floor.

The road led to a large bridge crossing over a river. On the other side, Damian could see the ruined facades of large office buildings, as well as a large industrial area, where factories had been re-started and were spewing black smoke, slowly covering the sky.

The bridge was still standing, despite the Great War and two centuries of exposure to the elements without maintenance. On the steel pylons, human and animal corpses were hung by chains and flock of crows flew around them and fed on the corpses. The sign above the road welcomed visitors to the city of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The end of the city's name had been crossed out by graffiti, leaving only the message, "Welcome to Pitt" in legible form.

"There we are. Pitt," Wernher said.

Damian stared at the city. It was even worse than what he had imagined. The place was not as damaged as D.C., but there was something inexplicable that made Damian feel that Pitt was far worse than the Capital Wasteland.

"Watch out on the bridge, the bastards like to set traps to keep the slaves from escaping, so watch your step. Once you've crossed the bridge, follow the road and head right. You'll find the entrance."

"So, I just come knocking at the door?" asked Damian a bit skeptical.

"That's the idea. Look, I know this plan sucks, but that's the only one I have. They won't shoot you. Trust me. Many slaves have already tried to escape and some of them went back to Pitt. You're up for getting your ass kicked but they won't kill you or hurt you too much. After all, they'll need you to be healthy to work."

The bridge was almost impassable. The pedestrian crossings on the side were full of bear traps or landmines, when they were not blocked by wooden barricades.

The small space between the cars was too narrow for Damian and Wernher to get through, so he walked on top of the cars to be able to move forward.

"After we cross, I'll go my own way. Once you're inside, look for a woman named Midea. She'll help you."

They finally arrived on the other side. Crouched behind a rusty military truck, Wernher was scanning the area, while Damian removed his armor and cloth to put on the rags. The rags were stinking, bit it was nothing compared to the horrible smell coming from the river or the industrial fumes.

"You ready?" Wernher asked.

Damian nodded in silent. He gave his gear to Wernher who put it in a duffel bag.

"I'll give it back to you when we meet again, with the cure."

"What do I do once I get the cure?"

"Go to Midea, she knows the plan."

Wernher extended his arm.

"Good luck, my friend," he said shaking Damian's hand. "We are counting on you."

Damian watched him walk along a building and disappear inside. Damian followed the street. Halfway across he heard a growl. He looked around but saw nothing. The growling started again and he saw a big, hairless dog with a snub-nosed chin bent over the body of a man. Two other dogs appeared, coming out from buildings.

Damian swore silently. He walked away slowly. The dogs followed him and came closer and closer.

"Shit…"

Damian sprinted to the other end of the street. He could hear the dogs running and barking behind him. He jumped over the hood of a wrecked car and kept running.

Behind his back Damian heard an explosion. He looked over his shoulder and saw what looked like the body of a dog falling heavily on top of the car. One of the two remaining dogs turned back, but the last one was still chasing him.

Damian came to a crossroads. The end of the street in front of him and to the left were blocked by a collapsed building. Damian moved to the right.

He looked behind him. The dog was still on his heels.

About twenty meters away, a large fence with barbed wire blocked the street. Three spotlights cast a bright white light towards Damian. He closed his eyes and kept running. Damian heard laughter and bursts of voice. He opened his eyes and bumped into the gate.

"Slave bastard... Here comes another one!"

Damian looked at the figures on the other side of the gate. There was a group of men and women, wearing leather suits or overalls, giggling at him, while a second group, men and women also, were sitting on the ground, held at gun point by some of the slavers.

He looked out into the street and saw the dog hesitating to approach. The animal was glaring at the gate and the men and women on the other side.

"What then? Afraid of a little doggie?" one of the guards laughed.

Damian heard something falling next to him. He turned his head and saw a steel bar on the ground.

"You want to come back inside? Kill the dog."

The dog barked and growled. Slowly Damian bent down and picked up the metal bar. He tried to scare the dog by hitting the gate.

"Come on! Kill it!"

The dog ran towards Damian, who dodged a bite. The few guards on the other side of the gate started taking bets on who would win between Damian and the hound. Damian raised his rudimentary weapon and prepared to ward off another assault.

A shot rang out. The dog squealed and fell to the side. Damian turned around. A man with a shaved head and battle armor lowered a small revolver. He looked at the guards around him who were putting their caps away, sighing that their distraction was coming to an end.

"Open the door!" the man shouted.

The gate creaked and rolled to the side. Two men came out and disarmed Damian, who watched the dog whining and dying. They brought Damian face to face with the man with the shaved head. The man looked at Damian from head to toe.

"I love it when they come back on their own," the man smiled. "So, asshole, you couldn't cross the bridge? Did the bad doggie scare you?"

Damian did not answer. The man remained silent, obviously waiting for a reaction. He motioned to his men and Damian felt the butt of a rifle in his flank and fell to the ground.

The slaver put his rifle away and started to search Damian.

"He's clear."

"All right, get him up."

Damian felt himself being lifted off the ground. The man stared at him for a few more seconds, then to the other slaves, and pointed to a street on his right.

"Go back to work. Oh, and the next time you try to get away, I'm throwing you to The Trogs."

With a nod, he ordered his men to take Damian and the slaves away.

The street they were walking on was littered with trash and the sidewalks were clogged with rubble. After about ten meters, Damian and his escort arrived at a small square, lined with tall buildings.

A cacophony of voices, hammering tools and saw whistles rose from the place. Along the buildings, scaffolding had been erected to allow the slavers to move freely and keep an eye on their prisoners.

Damian saw three men in rags, facing a wall with their hands on their heads. A man in a puffy brown work outfit, his head covered by a construction helmet and a mask that made him look like a mole, shouted at them and waved a submachinegun beside their heads. The three men were shaken with spasms of terror. The man in the mask, pulled the breech of his gun.

"Which one you motherfuckers did it? Speak up! Was it you? Or you? Who helped them escape?"

The three men remained silent and shook their heads frantically. The masked man hit one of the slaves on the temple with his gun.

He shouted again but got no response from the terrified slaves. He turned his head toward Damian and the other.

"Well, let's ask them then. Which one of these three stinking scab helped you escape?"

The slaves remained silent. Damian could hear one of the slavers sighed.

"Can't you just shoot one?" he asked.

"Nah, I'll try something different," said the masked slaver.

He looked at Damian and the other slaves and pointed a finger at them.

"Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo,

Catch a Mole rat by the toe.

If it hollers, let it go,

Eeny, Meeny, Miny… Mo."

The slaver had his finger pointed at Damian.

"So, scab, who helped you escape?"

Damian looked at the three slaves, still facing the wall.

"I…"

"You better not tell me you don't know, or I'll blow this dude's head off."

The slaver walked back to the three slaves and raised his gun at one of them.

"I can't hear anything."

"Jesus Christ! Just fucking tell him!" cried the slave with the gun pointed at him.

"Was it him? Or him? Or maybe this one?"

"For fucks sake," sighed one of the slavers. "Just shoot him and let the others go back to work."

The slaver pulled the trigger. The slave straightened and collapsed on the ground. The slaver turned toward the other slaves, who had stopped working to watch the scene.

"In case escaping went through your little rotten mind, this, is what awaits you! Now get back to work."

He yelled at the two remaining slaves and ordered them to get rid of the body.

"What a fucking waste of time," said one of the slavers. "Come on, you. Get moving."

The city of Pittsburgh seemed less affected by the destruction than D.C. and its downtown. The place where he stood had been dug and laid out so that the slaves could, with the help of large circular saws, harvest metal from the bodies of cars or cut pieces of the city's old water pipes.

The stench in the air near the bridge was much less strong here, but Damian felt as if something was creeping into his body every time, he breathed in.

All the slaves present had skin lesions that made them look like ghouls, as well as the slavers who watched them from the scaffolding. Some had just a scarred face, while others looked like they had been burned by a chemical.

Damian noticed the evil look in the eyes of one of the slavers and he walked down one of the small alleys near the square. The alleyway led to a small courtyard between several buildings and served as a gathering place for the slaves. The slavers pushed them inside and warned them again that if they were caught, they would get executed.

On a small platform, several slaves were kneeling, their heads and arms trapped between two wooden planks fixed to posts, in a scene reminiscent of the humiliations and public executions of the Middle Ages.

Some slaves looked at them with sorrowful or indifferent looks. The slaves present looked briefly at Damian and the others before returning to their discussion or heading back to the square to work.

A small space had been turned into a refectory and Damian could smell a rather unpleasant odor emanating from it. He saw a woman, her face devoured by disease, cutting or boning pieces of meat, spread out on a metal grill on two blocks of concrete, and distributing them among several plates.

A woman wearing patched clothes and a piece of cloth on her head passed by Damian.

"Follow me," she whispered almost inaudibly.

Damian watched her walk away to a door of one of the buildings and followed her, under the suspicious gaze of the guards who were watching the area.

Damian pushed open the metal door through which the woman had just passed and entered an old, dilapidated and poorly lit apartment. Several mattresses piled up on the floor and an indescribable but unpleasant smell was in the air. Damian grinned and looked around. The woman, in her thirties, was standing near a desk and motioned for him to come closer.

"Wernher sent you, didn't he?" the woman whispered.

"Yes, are you Midea? How do you know who I am?"

"Yes, it's me. I saw you arrive with the one who tried to flee, and you're the only one I've never seen before. We have to hurry. The guards saw you come in here, and since they think you've tried to escape, they'll be extra careful with you."

"Great," Damian sighed.

Midea glanced briefly at the door and turned towards Damian.

"I have a plan to get you into Ashur's palace, but until then we must wait. Lay low and blend in with the others. If the guards think you're not working enough, they'll throw you to the Trogs."

"I need you to tell me as much as you can," Damian answered.

Midea looked at the door again.

"Wernher must have already explained everything to you, about the Trogs, our life as slaves, the sickness. The key to our liberation and healing is the cure. The longer we stay here, the more chance we have of dying of this hellhole or turning into monsters. Almost every child born here becomes a Trog in a few months or even weeks."

"This cure, it's in Ashur's place I assume."

"Yes," Midea nodded. "It's the first thing that hasn't been infected with the disease."

Damian frowned. Midea's sentence was strange. He opened his mouth to question her when the door to the room opened on the fly.

A tall man with a small blonde line of hair on his head, a goatee and dressed in one of those brown puffy suits burst into the room, shaking a gun in his hand.

"What the hell's going on here, Midea? Who the hell is that? Why aren't you working?"

The man gave Damian and Midea a murderous look. The woman stammered an unintelligible answer.

"What? I'm waiting!" spat the man out.

"Uh... It's... He... I... I was talking to him about the job... The job given by the Foreman," Midea answered. "You have to explain it well to the new guys..."

The man turned to Damian and a smirk on his lips appeared.

"Oh, so he's the one who's going out into the Steelyard?"

"Yes," said the slave shyly. "I explained to him what he had to do. Ten ingots, as soon as possible."

The slaver smiled again and stared at Damian.

"I hope you've said goodbye to everyone, newbie."

He burst out laughing and put the gun away.

"Okay, playtime's over! Back to work, scabs!" he cried suddenly.

He stepped aside, inviting Midea and Damian out. The woman looked at Damian, silently telling him that the conversation was over and that he should go on alone from now on. The man closed the door behind him violently and returned to the scaffolding, shoving and shouting at the slaves.

"Go to Marco in the Mill near the control room. He will give you a weapon. Now hurry up and leave before someone sees us."

Midea took a quick step away, leaving Damian alone. He left the alleyway and followed the scaffolding to the street. On the walls, graffiti marked the directions to the different places in Pitt. Damian followed those that indicated the Mill and arrived in front of a large red brick building.

Damian noticed that all the streets, whether blocked by rubble or not, were guarded by at least two slaver and were closed off by thick metal barriers, five meters high, topped with barbed wire and projectors that lit up the ruins with bright white light. An unpleasant impression took hold of Damian. He had the feeling that the fences were as much to prevent something from entering as to prevent the slaves from escaping and he had the unpleasant feeling that somewhere in the ruins, behind the fence, something was lurking in the shadows.

He entered the Mill by a loading dock and immediately a stifling heat grabbed his chest. There was a hellish racket in the building, a mixture of hissing saws, screams, gurgling molten metal and the clatter of metal presses.

Damian had seen the brownfields outside of D.C. before, such as the large factory overlooking all the Capital Wasteland near Minefield and where he had been abducted by aliens, but he had never been inside one of these pre-war buildings.

During his History lessons, back in Vault 101 classes, he had seen many films and photos of factories in the United States. These factories, which were running at full capacity before the Great War, were now abandoned and had, for the most part, become living places for feral ghouls or groups of Raiders, and only some brave scavengers dared to venture there to hope to plunder the few objects still exploitable that lay there.

All these buildings were now only ruins among many others in the landscape of the Wasteland, remnants of an extinct civilization, and the long brick chimneys that rose to the sky now served as landmarks for travelers.

Except for the Pitt factories. Damian would never have imagined that these factories and the machines they contained could ever be restarted. He was convinced that the know-how to operate such machines had disappeared along with the people who had used them two centuries earlier. In Vault 101, where each person had an area of expertise that would allow the Vault to function, it would have been impossible to find anyone capable of operating these machines, and Damian suspected that some of the Brotherhood scribes would be eager to learn how to operate a metal press or these machines.

Ashur had done it. He and his army of slavers and Raiders had started up this factory again, and were slowly melting metal and making, under the supervision of tired and sick slaves, steel rails to rebuild civilization.

Conveyor belts brought plates of molten metal under a press, which flattened them, before they were taken to another machine, whose function was unknown to Damian. Above his head, large vats, hanging from clamps, slid along a rail in the ceiling and poured their molten metal contents into other vats before pouring it into molds.

Damian walked through the Mill and started looking for a control room. He stopped next to a slave cutting a huge steel beam with his circular saw and asked where he could find Marco. The slave shook his head briefly and returned to his work after looking at the guards watching the factory from the catwalks on the upper floors.

Damian continued his search. He walked past a hole in the factory floor. The hole was covered with wire mesh, welded to iron bars and fixed into the ground to form a small dome. Inside, Damian could see a large hole several meters deep that ended in a small space dug into the rock where piles of tires, drums of radioactive waste, trash and small wooden constructions were piled up.

He continued his search for several minutes and discovered that a part of the Mill's machines had been reprogrammed to produce bullets. A single press, surrounded by armed slavers who would yell, hit or aim at any slave that walked a little too close, was creating 5.56 and .308 cartridges. With a machine like this one, the slavers would never run out of ammunition, and could outmatch any other Wasteland army.

Damian finally found a small room filled with computers and control consoles. Inside, a small man of Asian descent, simply dressed in a loincloth and a harness around his chest, was sweating profusely and mumbling in front of a terminal screen.

Damian approached and cleared his throat. The man turned around and automatically looked towards the door of the room.

"Is that you Marco?" Damian asked. "It's Midea who..."

"Not so loud," the man cut him off in an almost inaudible breath because of the clatter of the machines. "If the bosses find out what we're up to, we'll end up in the belly of a Trog."

Damian saw him shudder at the thought.

"Well, what do you want?" whispered the man as he approached Damian.

"I was told you could give me something."

The man blinked several times, visibly confused. Damian rolled his eyes and discreetly mimicked a gun with his thumb and index finger. Marco opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows, finally understanding. He grabbed a large circular saw from under a table and presented it to Damian.

"I call them auto axes. Nice, huh? I make them out of car parts I get from the city. It cuts through metal as well as flesh, so be careful when you use it."

"Great, I guess," Damian replied, taking the tool in his hands.

He was expecting Marco to give him a small revolver, not a hacksaw made out of everything he could get his hands on. The tool was heavy. It had a yellow body, similar to a chainsaw. A bicycle chain acted as a belt and connected the body and motor to several coarsely sharpened metal blades.

"It's very simple to use," said Marco. "You just need to pull this handle. It starts the engine. Then you press here to turn the saw. I just finished building this one, so don't worry about fuel."

Marco looked through the control room door. Damian turned around. Outside, one of the slaves was lying on his side, holding his belly and moaning.

A woman in a metal suit, wearing a hood and goggles, approached and leaned over him.

"Poor guy," sighed Marco. "It's the disease that spreads."

He pushed Damian towards the exit.

"Go before the bosses come to see why you're not working."

Damian left the control room. The woman, a slaver, was kicking the man's legs on the ground, writhing in pain.

The man who had interrupted the conversation with Midea materialized in front of Damian.

"What are you jerking off, scab?" he shouted. "Go get me those steel ingots from the depot!"

He punched Damian in the face, who stumbled and almost fell to the ground. The man grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him in the direction of the wire mesh dome in the factory floor.

Next to the dome, Damian spotted a small staircase leading to a factory hallway. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the man was watching him. He climbed up the stairs and arrived in front of another man, leaning against the wall next to graffiti indicating a place called "the Steelyard".

Damian was startled when he saw a man in front of him. He had a small blonde crest of hair, a goatee and was wearing a black tank-top and leather pants with military boots. Damian thought it was the same man who had just hit him, as the resemblance was so striking.

The man watched Damian approach him and threw his cigarette butt on the floor before blowing the smoke.

"So, you're the one who hit the jackpot and who has to bring back the steel ingots today?" the man asked in a tone that contrasted sharply with the spitting and invective of the other slavers.

"Yes," Damian answered.

"Ah, finally a little enthusiasm," the man said sarcastically.

He motioned to Damian to follow him. They walked down a corridor until they reached a small office.

"Tell me, who did you piss off to end up with this death sentence?" asked the man. "No, don't tell me, it's not important. You're going to die in no time anyway."

Damian followed the man in silence. He led him into another corridor, with a heavy locked metal door. The man unlocked the door and entered another corridor. At the end, a small makeshift barricade overlooked an abandoned part of the factory. The man scanned the area and pointed to something in the room. Damian squinted his eyes to see better, but darkness prevented him from seeing clearly.

"See that guy over there? You'll see a lot like him in the city."

Damian thought he saw a humanoid silhouette, walking on all fours and slowly approaching them. The slaver approached a spotlight and turned it on. A bright white light lit up the room. Damian heard an animal growl that gave him shivers and saw a shadow crawl out of the beam of light. He hadn't had time to get a good look, but he was convinced that the thing was crawling around on all fours.

The man scanned the area again and stepped onto a small scaffold to reach the other side of the room. He stopped in front of a large metal door and unlocked it.

"Actually, I have something to ask you. If you could get killed near the door, that would be great. That way, I'd have a lot less to walk to loot your corpse."

He looked over his shoulder and sent a little grin to Damian. He reached for a bag near the door and pulled out a large bar of steel.

"That's the thing you need to find, and no, don't bring me nine and say that makes ten with this one, other before you have tried, and guess what, it did not work. Don't bring me scrap metal, it won't do."

He pushed Damian through the open door and immediately closed it behind him.

Damian found himself outside on a loading dock where a construction lamp was shining a bright white light.

The sky was dark, and the fading sunlight was struggling to illuminate the place. It had started raining again and Damian could hear the raindrops crashing against the sheet metal of a truck a little further away or the ground around him. He could also hear several flares and could see the walls of the industrial buildings in the area lit by the flames.

In front of him, Damian saw a corpse, wearing slave rags. Damian approached cautiously. The man's body was covered with skin lesions, making the cause of death impossible to determine. Next to him was an R91 assault rifle and two magazines, as well as a bag containing two large steel ingots.

Damian retrieved the weapon and checked the ammunition. He only had about 40 rounds of ammunition in reserve. He picked up the bag. The steel ingots weighed quite heavy and Damian hoped to be able to carry ten at a time.

He looked around and began to think about where he could find the eight missing ingots.

To his left, a fence prevented access to a dump where drums of radioactive waste were piled up. The platform on which he was standing continued towards what appeared to be a train depot. He noticed a stationary truck further on and a wooden ramp to climb onto the trailer.

Damian had a bad feeling. He felt like he was being watched. He looked around again, and towards the door leading to the steel mill. He did not see any holes through which the slaver could observe him.

The humanoid shadow he had seen in the abandoned part of the Mill came back to his mind, as well as the alien abominations of the ship. He shivered and grasped the handle of his makeshift circular saw more firmly.

Damian walked towards the truck. He looked in all directions. The threatening shadows of the buildings around him, coupled with the unpleasant feeling of being watched, made him feel even worse.

He climbed on the truck and looked at the area around him.

To his right were several rows of freight trains and a collapsed tunnel. To his left were large dumpsters overflowing with rubble or steel debris. Damian noticed several steel ingots protruding from one of the dumpsters.

In front of him, the area continued to expand. A sheet metal building, surrounded by a metal staircase, led to a second, higher part of the depot, where several large warehouses and a large circular building were piled up, from which several conveyors and large pipes ran out.

A pipeline labyrinth meandered over the depot and several metal walkways and stairs ran along the walls of the warehouses or factories.

The depot was full of cramped spaces, blind spots or dark passageways that could be used for ambushes.

Damian turned to the dumpsters and jumped into one of them. He searched for a few moments and retrieved four steel bars and ingots, that, he hoped, would do.

He searched a third dumpster but found nothing that could be used. He was about to turn back to the truck when he saw a large metal garbage can stuck at the foot of the dumpster and a building. The lid was lifted and inside was a dead slave sticking out of it.

Both or the slave's legs were broken, and bones were coming out and his body was covered in bruises, as if he had fallen from a great height. Damian noticed three new steel bars in the trash can.

Damian sniffed and wiped the rain from his face. He approached the edges of the dumpster and inspected every corner on the way to make sure that nothing would jump out at him as soon as he got down.

Damian readjusted the bag of steel bars on his back with a growl and jumped off the dumpster. He retrieved the three new steel bars and quickly returned to a more open space.

"Only one more," Damian said to regain his courage.

He went back to the truck to observe the area but came across a strange scene. Behind a gate that encircled the corner of the Mill, Damian saw a slave. The man was alive and was also carrying a bag to pick up steel. He was leaning slightly forward and waving at something in front of him.

Damian jumped back and instinctively put his hand where his gun holster should have been.

In front of the slave, a creature in humanoid form, stood crouching. Hairless, with ochre skin, the thing stared at the slave, growling and groaning. Damian noticed that its limbs were longer than those of a human. its feet and hands were abnormally long, of the same shape and all had one finger or toe missing. Its appearance was reminiscent of a feral ghoul. Its face was more like that of a Super Mutant than a human and had a constant grimace on it.

The slave called the thing in front of him.

"Billy, it's me, your brother. Do you recognize me?"

The creature moved a little closer to the slave. There was nothing human about its gait. It walked on all fours, slowly, crudely. Like a wild animal.

The slave laughed nervously and took a step back.

"Billy?" he repeated. "It's me John-John..."

The creature growled more aggressively. The slave backed away again, then turned around and started to run. The creature leaned on his legs and jumped forward. It jumped several meters and landed in front of the man and let out a growl.

Damian dropped his big auto axe and grabbed his assault rifle. The creature jumped on top of the slave, who screamed in terror. The creature hit him on the head with its fists and stuck its teeth down the slave's throat. It rammed the slave, smashing his face to a pulp before it began to devour him.

Damian aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew towards the creature and hit it in the arm. Damian pulled the trigger again, but the shell remained stuck in the breech. He tried to loosen it. He looked up and saw that the creature was gone. Instead, only the disfigured, half-eaten corpse of the slave remained.

He looked around him, while banging and pulling the breech of his weapon.

"Come on, goddamn it... Now's not the time to jam…"

He heard a growl next to him. The creature stood between him and the factory loading platform. It grunted and gave a shout in which Damian thought he recognized the word "eat". The thing rushed at Damian, who appeared to attack it with the butt of his rifle.

The creature slowly turned around him. Damian glanced furtively around in case any of the other creatures wanted to join them.

The thing leaned on its hind legs and leapt at Damian who crushed the stock of his rifle against the creature's face as it rolled on the ground. The thing tried to get up, but Damian smashed its skull with his gun in an unpleasant crack. The thing's skull collapsed a few centimeters and one of its eyes popped out of its orbit.

Damian walked away from the creature and turned on himself, ready for battle. He saw no other creature and heard nothing but the roar of the rain.

He tried again to unjam his weapon but had to give up. He threw the weapon into a dumpster and picked up his auto axe.

He still had one more steel bar to find. Damian walked to the top of the depot. He held the auto axe firmly and started the engine. A slight humming sound told him that his makeshift weapon would be ready for use if needed.

Damian walked cautiously, looking all around him. He finally found two more steel bars, half-buried in the ground between two warehouses. He placed them in his bag and quickly returned toward the Mill.

He descended the stairs and walked past the stationary trains. There, two creatures sprang up, fighting over a piece of meat. When they saw Damian, they stopped fighting and turned to him, growling.

Damian raised his auto axe just when one of the creatures ran at him. He activated the blades, which began to rotate rapidly with a shrill whistle.

The sharp pieces of metal cut through the creature's flesh with disconcerting ease. The thing groaned in pain and collapsed to the ground groaning and crawling away, its belly torn apart by the saw.

The second creature growled and ran towards Damian, who lowered his saw. The blades hit the thing's head and burrowed into its skull.

Damian closed his eyes when the blood and brains splashed down on his face. He felt his auto axe get stuck and the thing, with the blades still stuck in its skull, fell to the ground. Damian dropped his weapon and quickly wiped his face, spitting out any bits of skin or flesh he may have received in his mouth. He raised his head to the sky and rubbed his face to remove the blood that was beginning to stick to his skin.

The first creature kept moaning on the ground, but against all odds it moved towards Damian and from time to time waved its arms towards him to grab him, as its entrails slowly poured out on the wet ground.

Damian pulled the blades of his auto axe out of the thing's skull with an unpleasant cracking sound. The smell emanating from these animals, that was the right word, was unbearable.

He glanced up at the sky. The clouds of smoke coming from the chimneys of the Mill and the rumbling storm darkened the sky even more. Damian hurried back to the Mill.

He went through the loading dock door and entered the abandoned area. He closed the door behind him and sighed. He noticed that the white light, which had been on until now, was off. He heard a growl and saw a humanoid shadow moving on all fours rush over him.

Damian saw the thing jump on him. He protected himself with his arms and felt the mass of the creature fall on him and push him against the wall.

The thing was only inches away from him. It was jawing at Damian's throat. He managed to throw the creature to the ground, but it got back on its feet and jumped at him again.

Damian had just enough time to brandish his axe in the direction of the thing that impaled itself against the blades.

Damian dropped his weapon and headed for the factory gate. He knocked on it and, after endless seconds, the door opened on the man with the little blonde crest of hair.

"Already back?" he said visibly surprised.

He looked over Damian's shoulder.

"Hey, I see you even killed the Trog who was walking around the factory. I forgot you were outside, so I turned off the light. Anyway, you got the steel ingots?"

Damian grabbed the bag from his back and dropped it at the slaver's feet. The man looked at him for a few seconds, silently.

"What? You don't think I'm going to open the bag, do you? That's your job, scab."

Damian knelt after a moment without reacting and opened the bag. The slaver looked inside and counted out loud, while Damian pulled out the steel bars.

"Eleven bars," he said, turning to Damian. "I'm not going to comment on the fact that you can't count, since you've brought me what I need. Anyway, take this to the Mill, and if you feel like going back out there, let me know."

He giggled briefly and watched Damian as he put the steel bars in the bag and headed inside the Mill.

Damian placed his bag in a cart that a slave took to another part of the factory. A bell started ringing. The slavers whistled and began to gather the slaves and move them to the exit.

Damian, led by the crowd, moved towards the exit. The slaves were all heading towards the small courtyard where Damian had met Midea. He found her and approached her.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"It's Ashur, he asked that everyone be gathered in the square. He's going to open the Hole. It's perfect."

"What do you mean "perfect"?"

"Every once in a while, Ashur opens the Hole. You must have seen it, it's that big hole inside the Mill. Any slave who wishes may ask to fight in the Hole against Ashur's gladiators."

"And how is that a good thing?" Damian rephrased.

"Three victories in the arena means freedom, and more importantly, an audience with Ashur. If you succeed, you will be able to seize the cure."

"You make it sound so simple," Damian said in a brittle tone.

"Wernher has planned... A diversion, so you can get your hands on the cure."

A man wearing a simple leather suit stepped onto the scaffolding and raised a small megaphone.

"Silence! Lord Ashur will speak!"

The slaves turned to the scaffolding overlooking the courtyard and waited.

A large silhouette appeared on the scaffolding and Damian was surprised to see that the man who had just arrived was wearing an old power armor. To his knowledge, only members of the Brotherhood, the Enclave or the Outcasts wore them.

From where he was, he couldn't get a good look at the man. He could see, however, that the armor was damaged and that its owner had added some ornaments, such as the skull of a Brahmin to replace one of the shoulder pads.

The slaver gave the man in power armor the megaphone and took a few steps back.

"Inhabitants of Pitt, workers of Downtown, merchants of the Uptown, all of you who work for the good of everyone, I bring you good news!"

Ashur watched the crowd in front of him, marking a brief silence. He raised one arm and pointed to the buildings around him.

"We are at the dawn of a new golden age!" he said. "The Commonwealth envies our industry! The Capital Wasteland dream of our security and Ronto envies our power! And it is thanks to your efforts and strength that the rest of the world has its eyes on Pitt!"

Ashur's speech sounded like that of a feudal lord. Damian found it hard to believe that anyone among the slaves shared Ashur's views. Damian looked briefly at the men and women at Ashur's side. They seemed indifferent to the words of the master of the place and were watching the slaves as they stroked the grips of their assault rifles.

"The world envies our victories on the freedom front!" Ashur continued. "For yes, freedom is what we are working for, together!"

Damian could not believe his ears. Ashur, probably one of the greatest slavers in the Wasteland, with whom Eulogy Jones and the Paradise Falls slavers had most certainly had to deal on several occasions, spoke of freedom to the men and women he sacrificed in a pre-war steel mill to forge metal and railroad rails.

"Freedom!" repeated Ashur, who seemed to go into a trance as his speech continued. "Freedom in the face of the fear of our enemies, in the face of the disease that gnaws at our bodies and transforms our children into the monstrosities that are the Trogs! Freedom, to be able to return to the life that our ancestors led before they knew the chains of atomic fire!"

As Ashur spoke, Damian asked himself more and more questions. The man who spoke to him and the slaves seemed to believe what he was saying, but what intrigued Damian was the fact that Ashur did not look like all those Raiders or slavers who were ravaging the Wasteland. He did not seem to be speaking to slaves, but rather to workers or subjects of a kingdom.

"Then, to celebrate this freedom!" exclaimed Ashur. "I ask you, loyal workers: who among you is willing to fight for his freedom? Who among you will risk his life in the Hole to finally know freedom in the upper city? Who wants to seize this chance to rise?"

A heavy silence settled over the square.

"Here! Lord Ashur! Here, we have a volunteer! This man desires to fight in the Hole!"

Damian turned to Midea who had her finger pointed at him. All the slaves turned to him and Damian felt Ashur's gaze weigh upon him.

"If this is the will of the workers, then so be it!"

Ashur leaned against the scalding railing and spoke directly to Damian.

"Young man, you are not only the embodiment of the dream of all these workers, you are the embodiment of our liberation from the threats of this world."

Ashur waved his hand. Two slavers split the crowd and approached Damian. They grabbed him by the arms and escorted him out of the square towards the Mill.

Damian met the cheering and hopeful eyes of Midea and some of the other slaves. Just before he was taken away, he met the gaze of a woman he immediately recognized. She had long brown hair and lesions and scars were beginning to appear on her skin. It was the young woman he had seen in Paradise Falls. She looked at him and seemed to recognize him.

This unknown woman, whom Damian had mistaken for Amata and who had aroused in him a deep hatred for the slavers, was there in Pitt, and had just given Damian, with a single glance, one more motivation to emerge victorious from this arena and prove to Ashur that his great speech about freedom was going to come true sooner than he thought.


Hope you enjoyed.

I did not further develop the Steelyard part, mainly because I always hated this part of going out to fetch steel ingots.

Until next time.