They weren't numerous, as Raider packs tended to be. Psychos can only deal with other psychos for so long before a drug or alcohol-fuelled rampage would occur.
Their armor was cobbled together from scraps of leather and metal pieces, mostly kitchen implements. Very few wore head protection, and those that did, well…their headgear wasn't well-made, unless they had stolen it from some unfortunate soul.
The Raider leading the pack waved an SMG in the air, shouting back at the others about something. He ignored the distant boom, preferring the sound of his own voice.
That is, until a sharp thwip cut off his speech forever.
The Raider's head exploded violently, showering the nearby area in blood and bits of brain and bone.
In their shock at his sudden demise, another distant boom went unheard, but the thwip of a .308 bullet piercing under another Raider's jaw, the force messily tearing her head from her shoulders, did not.
They scrambled for cover from an unseen assailant, another sharp whistle ringing as another fell from a bullet to the heart.
One held a hunting rifle to his chest, leaning out to take a shot. Blood sprayed from his head as a round passed through his eye.
The last Raider panted harshly, fumbling for the needle in her pocket while trying to maintain the grip on her bat. She managed to grab it and stab the tip into her leg, sighing in pleasure as the heat raced through her veins.
The Raider stumbled out of cover and charged, screaming at the top of her lungs, heading for the spot the noises echoed from.
Dare quirked an eyebrow at the woman as she sprinted at him, bat held high over her head. He set his sniper aside and pulled the hunting rifle from his back, kneeling and taking aim, calmly shooting her in her screaming mouth.
The top half of her head tumbled to the ground, followed half a second later by her body.
He smirked to himself and stood from his crouch, methodically cycling the bolt on his rifle and reloading the sniper.
Tenpenny was a crazy rich old bastard, but he took care of his gun. The barrel, the stock and the grip had all been reinforced, which meant that they would degrade slower and made repair easier.
Dare looted the body, fashioning a strap from the bra and elastic band of her underwear and tying it to his rifle so that it would hang at his side, leaving his hands free. He took the empty syringe and a pack of bubble-gum, popping a piece in his mouth to chew as he walked.
The other bodies were cleaned of useable items in short order. The hardier pieces of metal and leather were taken to be sold, along with the various chems and weaponry. He switched out the stock of his hunting rifle for a less-weathered piece and stored the SMG for sale, and the ten MM bullets for his own use.
The biggest surprise was the ten .308 bullets he found on the leader's body. The man hadn't had a rifle to use, apparently, and thought that the long bullets would look bad-ass decorating his shoulder-pad, which was made from part of a tire.
Dare stood from his looting and adjusted the hat on his head and began to walk back to Megaton, occasionally popping a bubble as he moved, reloading the empty magazine of his sniper with loose bullets.
The blow he had taken to the back of his conk had definitely scrambled his brains, but he was glad to see that his sniping skills were unaffected. With the familiar weight of a sniper on his back, his gait had become smoother, more confident. It was a weapon he preferred using, and knew how to use it well; it affected his mood, making him more comfortable.
The sniper above Megaton's gate gave him a strange look as he strode through the entrance, laden with more weapons than he had left with.
The first person he met in Megaton was the Sheriff, Lucas Simms. Dare got the impression that the man had been waiting for him to return.
The man approached him quickly. "So, did you do it?" He asked with preamble, tapping one booted foot nervously.
Dare nodded, retrieving a small wrapped package from his pouch, presenting them to Simms. "Yup."
Lucas unrolled the package, his eyes scanning the pair of severed fingers intensely. "How can I be sure these aren't two random fingers offa pair of Raiders?" He asked seriously.
The younger man pointed up at his hat, and jacked a thumb at the sniper. "This is Burke's hat, and this is Tenpenny's rifle." He replied simply.
Simms studied him for a minute, before a wide smile cracked his weathered face. "Good job, son. You've done a good thing for the people of Megaton, a very good thing. And that's not something we'd let go unrewarded." He presented Dare with a rolled up piece of paper. "Here, take this."
The young sniper took the paper and unrolled it, catching a key that was inside. "What's this?" He asked, trying to read the letters.
"It's the deed to that house over there." Lucas replied, still smiling and pointing over his shoulder at the house behind him. "We got together and decided to gift it to you as a town, for disarming that nuke and taking care of the bastards who wanted to blow it, and us, to hell."
"I, uh, thank you, Sheriff." Dare stuttered, an odd feeling of warmth and satisfaction welling up inside of him. "Er, why did you have me cut off their fingers, though?" That had been kind of a weird request, and a little disturbing.
The Sheriff of Megaton patted him on the shoulder. "Son, keeping doing what you've done and you'll find out. Have a good day."
"You too." Dare looked up the house-his house- and frowned thoughtfully, striding up to the door and sliding the key inside, unlocking the door.
Entering, he was greeted by a Mr. Handy, a floating, multi-limbed robot, who spoke in a posh sort of accent. "Good evening sir, I am your humble servant, Wadsworth. How can I help you today?"
He blinked in surprise. "What can you do?" He blurted.
The robot seemed offended. "I am fully capable of multiple functions, sir. I can clean, cook, provide haircuts, and my moisture gatherers can produce clean drinking water! I am also capable of protecting your home." It sprayed a small spurt of flame from the flamethrower to prove this.
"I meant no offense," Dare apologized, "I've just…never had a personal robot before."
"None taken, sir. Can I do anything for you?" It asked, the limbs slowly rotating.
"How many bottles of water can you produce, Wadsworth?"
The robot ticked. "Four bottles are my maximum, sir. Would you like me to dispense them for you?"
He nodded thankfully. "Yes, please."
As the robot moved off to fill the bottles, Dare approached the somewhat shiny stand with 'Vault-Tec' proudly emblazoned on the front. It had several empty circular spaces, one that seemed to match something, but what?
Dare snapped his fingers, digging around in his pouch and making a noise of triumph as he withdrew a battered bobble-head doll of the Vault-Boy, holding a cartoonish-looking pistol. He peered at the bottom of the statue, finding a number that matched to the stand and set it down.
Wadsworth poked him in the back, presenting him with the bottles filled with fresh, clean water. "Thank you." Dare thanked him, storing one in his pouch, and the others in his working fridge to chill.
Exiting his house, leaving his sniper and hunting rifle inside, he walked over to Craterside Supply to sell off his baggage. Upon entering the establishment, Moira greeted him cheerfully. "I heard you're the new owner of that house over there! Just so you know, I sell house themes, too, so you can change the way your house looks!"
Dare scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind. I have some things I'd like to sell."
"Sure! Whip 'em out and I'll see what I can do!" She replied with an over-the-top wink.
He smiled charmingly, setting the items on the counter. The profit he managed to make was nice, filling the bag dedicated as a wallet even further. "Do you have any .357 bullets?" He asked after selling his things.
"Sure do! How many would you like?" Moira replied, pulling a couple of boxes from a locker.
"I'll take two boxes, please."
After paying her, he left with a wave to the proprietor, and Dare made his way to Moriarty's Saloon. He found it to be relatively empty except for Gob, a woman with short red hair leaning against a stairwell, and an older man with white hair and a beard, smoking while sitting at the counter and drinking from a bottle of beer.
"Are you Colin Moriarty?" He asked, approaching the man.
Moriarty turned an annoyed stare at the younger man. "Who's askin'?" He replied with an accent Dare couldn't place.
"Dare. I heard you're the one to talk to for information." Dare said.
The older man gave him a wary look. "Aye, that'd be me. So, you're the little newbie who disarmed the big, bad nuke we all sit our lovely arses on. How pleasant to meet ya."
Dare didn't respond, simply crossing his arms. It was obviously a fake sentiment.
"Stoic one, aren't ya? Fine, I can play that way. What do ya wanna know, oh disarming one?" Moriarty asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"Do you know where slavers operate in this area?" He asked bluntly
Colin quirked an eyebrow at that. "Oho! Now, why do ya want to know that? Lookin' to join up?"
Dare tapped his revolver meaningfully. "If by join, you mean 'shoot every one of them in their black hearts', then yes, yes I am."
"And how much would this information be worth to ya?" Moriarty asked, with a greedy gleam in his eye.
"The lives of seventeen people." He answered harshly.
"Ooh, that does sound like quite a bit," The older man said sarcastically, stroking his beard. "Tell ya what: you hand over two hundred caps, and I'll tell ya. Or, you could do a little job for me, and then I'll tell ya?"
Dare sighed, restraining the urge to pull his gun and press it under the greasy bastards' chin until he squealed. "What job?" He gritted out, clenching his fists.
Colin grinned nastily. "Before Nova, there," He pointed at the red-head, who gave Dare a wink, "I had another girl, named Silver, who was the provider of fun times for the customers. But one day, she started screaming at me, socked me in the jaw, and stole four hundred caps before running off. What I want you to do, is find Silver, hiding out in her little shack outside of town, and get my caps back. Kill her or steal them, I don't particularly care."
I want to sock you in the jaw, you slimy bastard. Dare snarled mentally. "If you know where she is, why don't you get your caps yourself?"
Moriarty shrugged and took a drag. "I heard she's taken to shooting herself full o' drugs, and that's just not pleasant to see."
His eye twitched, and he nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll get your caps. Wait here."
He left the premises, marching towards the entrance with a grim bent to his mouth. There's no way in hell I'd give that man any of my money. He thought, stalking out of the gate. I'll find this girl and hear her side of side of the story. Moriarty's definitely not telling me the whole thing.
Once he was out of sight of the town, Dare relaxed and popped a piece of gum in his mouth, scanning the area. There were only two houses still standing, not including the school, and one was boarded up. The one with the free door must've been where Silver lived.
Heading towards the shack, he watched the area carefully, stopping as a ball-shaped robot blaring a marching tune floated past. Keeping his hands loose, Dare knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" A scratchy but feminine voice called warily.
"My name is Dare. Colin Moriarty sent me to retrieve his caps, but I don't believe his story. Can I come in and hear your side, Silver?" He answered, listening for the sound of an impending attack.
The lock on the door clicked, and it opened slowly, revealing a young woman with silver-blonde hair pointing a small revolver at him. "You mean it? You ain't here to kill me?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
Dare nodded carefully. "Yes."
Silver looked him over with jittery blue eyes before gesturing with her gun. "You can come in, but try anything and I'll fill you full of holes."
"I know." It seemed that everyone with a gun would say the same thing wherever he went.
He sat at a small table across from the blonde woman, noticing the syringes scattered on the counter. "Why don't you tell me what happened."
"You want to know what happened?" She snarled, planting her gloved hands on the table. "I used to work for that bastard, doing…favors…y'know, for men. Working off the debt I owed him. I got tired of the life after I made it back and told him I wanted out. I even slept with the bastard to seal the deal!"
Dare grimaced. Not an image I want in my head. "Then what?"
Silver scoffed, rubbing her nose. "The next morning, he told me the deal was off and that I couldn't leave. So I punched that slob in the face and grabbed what he owed me and ran. And then he labeled me a junkie and a thief!"
He gave the visible drugs an obvious look and turned a dry gaze on her.
She frowned. "I never said I wasn't a junkie, ass! But I'm no thief! I only took what I was owed!"
Dare sighed, rubbing his chin in thought. I'm more inclined to believe Silver in this case, but this kind of life isn't something she should be living. "What do you do, Silver?" He asked suddenly. "How do you live?"
"Moira slips me some food when she can. Otherwise, I just shoot up until I forget my name. What else is there to do?" She replied miserably, cradling her head. "The Wasteland fucking sucks."
"There's nothing you want to do?" Dare questioned. "Nothing you can think of? Don't you want your life to be better?"
Silver slammed her hand on the table. "Oh, like what, you fuckin' prick, suck cocks day and night for caps?! No fucking thank-you!"
"So you're just going to stab a needle in your arm every morning and wait to get killed? Is that it?" He returned just as loudly. "You just gonna veg until a Raider kicks in your door? Huh?"
Silver stood and yelled in his face, spit flying from her lips. "What if I want to, huh? What if all I care about is the next fix until my brain leaks out of my ears, then what? Who fucking cares?!"
"Then you're nothing but a walking corpse." Dare hissed, harshly poking her chest. "You're worse than a whore. You're a bag of meat, waiting to get popped."
"You fuckin'-!" She grabbed at the revolver she set on the table and brought it up.
Dare twisted the gun from her grip and tossed it across the room. Silver tried to punch him, her wild swing missing as he stepped back, sending her tumbling to the ground, where she lay. "Why the fuck do you care, man? Just kill me or leave me to rot, you bastard…"
He sighed heavily and sat next to her on the ground. "My uncle used to tell me something when I was younger. He said, 'Why are you pitching a fit? Do you know how many people are out there right now, fighting and dying for something important? What makes you so special, that you can just whine all day?'"
That speech had been directed at new militia recruits and was far more curse-laden, and he had simply been watching, but it fit the situation.
Silver sniffed pitifully. "I can't do nothin'. All I know is how to take a dick. There's nothing I can give."
"I don't believe that." Dare rebuked gently, hesitantly laying a hand on her back. When she made no move to remove it, he slowly stroked her side. "There isn't anything you like doing? Any hobbies that don't include drugs?"
"Well…" She muttered thoughtfully, "I always liked messing around terminals. I could crack one of the little bastards in seconds…I only took up whorin' to pay off my debt to that bastard…"
"That's something you could do. There's a lot of information locked in terminals that could help a lot of people." Dare commented, patting her back encouragingly. He sighed and licked his lips. "Listen, I'll pay Moriarty off, and tell him you're dead, but you have to do something for me."
Silver rolled over, giving him a pitiful look. "You would?"
Dare nodded seriously. "I would. It's in my nature to help who I can. My parents raised me to."
"What-what would I have to do?" She asked slowly, wiping her face.
"Quit taking drugs. Maybe you can ask Moira to help you learn how to crack terminals, do some jobs, get some experience." He hesitated, his mind telling him to stop it there, but his heart cut in. "I have a house in Megaton. You can live with me there while you're getting on your feet."
He half-hoped she would refuse him for going to far. "This isn't some kind of trick to make me a slave, is it?" Silver asked suspiciously.
"Of course not!" He protested vehemently.
She drew back at his shout before sitting up. "You…you really want to help me? A no-good junkie?" Silver whispered.
Dare nodded, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I do."
She looked down in silence, deep in thought. "…Alright. I'll do it. Quit the drugs and…and come with you. But, you swear you won't…fuck me over?" Silver turned wide, wet blue eyes on him.
Dare swallowed, cursing his bleeding heart. "I swear, Silver. I won't fuck you over. I just want to help."
She bit her lip, rocking slightly. "Can you go outside? I need to pack up, but I need to…gather myself. Please?"
He nodded, patting her shoulder once again. "Alright. Don't take too long."
Exiting the house, Dare sighed deeply, refraining from punching himself in the face. What the hell was that?! He shouted at himself, gripping his head. You can't just offer every pretty, damaged girl with a shit history your home! You idiot!
He knocked his skull with his knuckles. Mom and Dad both would've done the same thing…well, actually, Mom would've smacked her around and then ordered her to shape up or she would knee-cap her. And dad would've flirted with her the whole time, made her feel like she was the most important woman in the world. And then told her to shape up.
Dare turned as the door opened, revealing Silver with a pack on her back, the house empty of lamps, batteries and anything useful. He peered in and noticed that the Jet was piled in one corner of the room in pieces. She must've stomped on it.
"You ready?" He asked gently.
She nodded, taking a deep, bracing breath. "Yeah…no, not really." She smiled sardonically.
They began to walk to Megaton in silence, the young woman sticking to Dare's side carefully, drawing the hood up on her jacket to hide her hair. He waved to the sniper above the gate-he really should learn his name-and directed Silver to his house.
"Wadsworth, this is Silver. She's a guest, treat her kindly, okay?"
The Mr. Handy spun eagerly. "Of course, sir!"
Dare pointed upstairs. "There are a couple of beds you can use. You should probably get some sleep, the next few days aren't going to be very fun for either of us."
She nodded meekly. "Dare…thanks for doing this…I know you coulda just shot me and took the caps, but…thanks."
He gave her a small smile. "You won't be thanking me soon enough, but I appreciate it."
Silver fiddled with her fingers before she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, quickly drawing away.
Dare left the house, heading towards the Saloon. Silver could do anything in his new house, but he was sure Wadsworth could defend himself if need be.
As he approached the Saloon, he drew on his Sniper's Mind, smoothing over his face with a cold expression. Shoving open the door, he spotted the white-haired Moriarty and tossed a pouch containing two-hundred and fifty caps at the man. "Silver's dead." He explained shortly. "That's all she had on her."
Moriarty weighed the bag in his hand and shrugged. "Ah well. Now that you've gone and done that for me, I'll give you the information you want." He leaned on the bar, blowing a cloud of smoke in Dare's face. "The slavers around here operate out a place called 'Paradise Falls.' It's a fuckin' fortress, one way in and one way out, filled to the brim with the worst sort of slavers and mercs you'll ever see. It's almost directly north of here; you can't miss it, or the big fuckin' statue of a fat boy with an ice-cream cone."
Dare sighed angrily. Great. I should've expected this.
"And before you go all-a chargin' off to get killed by slavers, why don't you put your caps to good use and buy a drink?" Moriarty suggested with a smile. "Or take Nova for a spin, who gives a fuck?"
He gave the older man a dirty look and left the bar, heading back to his house. Sitting on his bed with a bottle of cold water, Dare thought over the events of the day. He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. Two goddamn days and I'm already deep in it. He thought, sighing. What's next?
…
There were several stages to getting over an addiction. Jitters, nerves and a few emotional stages.
Silver started shaking around noon, dropping the fork she was eating with. Her eyes shook in their sockets as she curled up into a ball, whimpering.
Dare sat next to her, giving her silent support and comfort.
Anger came next.
She lashed out, shouting and screaming, waving her gun around and demanding Jet. Dare disarmed her again and locked her in her room, ignoring the threats to his livelihood and manhood while methodically cleaning his guns.
By the time the next morning rolled around, Silver had moved onto bargaining, offering everything from sex to her blood, for some reason, for a dose. Dare left the house after slipping her a plate of food, to fix the leaky pipes around Megaton and getting paid for his help.
That night, he checked in on Silver, to find that she had stripped herself almost naked with a high fever. He watched over her carefully, doing his best to keep her comfortable while her body rejected the craving.
And when her fever broke and the nightmares started, he covered her with a blanket and held her while she cried in her sleep.
The next morning rolled around, finding Dare tucking Silver in as she rested peacefully. He had approached Lucas Simms the day before, asking the man to check in on her every couple of hours. He'd also told the man who Silver was and why he was helping her, and the duster-clad Sheriff was eager to get one over Moriarty, even if secretly.
Dare dressed after giving Silver, and then himself a sponge bath, setting his sniper on his back and holstering his revolver, the silenced pistol hidden in one of his pouches.
Today's objective was recon of Paradise Falls. Whatever Moriarty had said of the place, he needed to see it with his own two eyes. Then, he would make a plan, and he would deal with the situation.
He set off before noon, with his hat covering his eyes from the sun's glare and a piece of gum in his mouth.
He headed north, skirting the irradiated river when ever possible, avoiding the large, shelled creatures called Mirelurks.
The weathered statue of a fat man excitedly holding an ice-cream cone mid-jump eventually came into view, and as it grew closer, Dare began to slow down, watching his surroundings closely. Spotting an out-cropping for rock with a good view of the walled slaver-haven, he climbed it and set up on top, laying down and covering himself with his newest acquisition.
While Silver was going cold turkey, Dare had went to Moira and bought a good amount of simple, rough cloth. Part of that had been cut into long strips, lightly dabbed with grease and brushed with dirt, and then wrapped around his sniper rifle camouflage it. Too much cloth would mess with his aim, and the function of the rifle itself, so did much the same to the metal, reducing the shininess.
The rest of the cloth had been cut into smaller strips and made into a rough covering, the strips greased and dirtied to make a camouflage suit. Dare forgot the exact name, but besides the sniper and the sniper's mind, it was one of their greatest tools.
After he covered himself in the suit, he also pulled a small tin and opened it, dabbing a bit of the contents-grease mixed with black ink-and wiping it on his face, going from the tip of his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, ending after covering the bottom lid. It was to reduce the glare of the sunlight; the light would be drawn in the black ink instead of entering his eyes.
Settling himself in his perch, Dare peered through the scope and scanned Paradise Falls. He was not surprised to find that what he saw disgusted him. Slavers hung around, some drinking, others playing pool, or just chatting and poking at the slaves with sticks through an electrified fence.
He watched the buildings, seeing a man in metal, spiked armor walking out a building while adjusting his pants with a satisfied smile on his face.
Dare was more than just tempted to begin shooting every Slaver in sight, his finger tight on the trigger, but his common sense stopped him. He had no actionable intel. He didn't know who led those bastards, and it was more likely than not that if he attacked, they would detonate the slave's collars just to spite him.
Sighing in despair, he closed his eyes, quietly praying for forgiveness. Looking through the scope again, he felt anger fill him again. One of the bastards with a Mohawk was poking a child slave rather viciously with a pointed stick, drawing blood from what he could see.
Dare's finger twitched. He accessed his Sniper's Mind, allowing cold logic to wash over and soothe his anger. The twitching was gone, leaving only a shrewd eye for killing.
He noticed a metal sign hanging above the bar by a pair of chains. Snapping the closest chain would send the sign swinging into the targets back, he deduced, but it might miss. Or…it could swing into someone else.
Taking aim, adjusting for drop and wind, he fired.
Dare followed the bullet mentally as it traveled through the air, watching as it arched and hit the chain. The metal links snapped, sending the stamped metal sign swinging at the merc in metal armor walking by.
It impacted lightly, not doing any damage, really, but surprising the blond man in to skipping back in surprise, accidently knocking against the mohawked slaver's back, sending him face-first into the electrified fence.
Dare watched the man get electrocuted with a vicious, satisfied smirk. "Outstanding." He muttered to himself.
"I swear I heard a shot, man!" A voice yelled from down and behind him.
Dare froze, slowly turning his head.
"I heard it too!"
A man with an assault rifle crouch-walked around the outcropping, peering at anything and everything cautiously. Behind him were three people, two women and one man, all looking beaten with slave collars around their necks. And behind them was another man, this one with a hunting rifle.
Slavers. With fresh slaves to sell.
Not on my watch.
Dare carefully and slowly pushed himself into a kneel, quietly drawing his silenced pistol and taking aim. As the slaver at the back passed, he shot him in the back of the head. The other man turned quickly, and Dare landed a bullet between his eyes, dropping both men within two seconds.
The slaves, more than scared out of their minds, quickly ducked and huddled together in fear. Grabbing his rifle around the middle, he quickly slid down the outcrop and landed next to one of the bodies.
The slaves looked at him with fear in their eyes, and he put a finger to his lips. Carefully beckoning them to him, he drew his knife and a bobby pin, pointing at their necks. "Let me get those off." He whispered kindly.
One of the women edged towards him, shaking. Dare went to work unlocking the small hatch. After it opened, he dug the tip of the knife and the bobby pin into the circuit, cutting through the wires connecting to the detonator and pulling it away.
He pulled the collar off and set it aside before moving on to the other two, doing the same to their collars. "There, all done. Can any of you use weapons?" Kind of a dumb question, but an important one.
They all nodded, and he policed the weaponry from the dead men, giving the slaves an assault rifle, the other the hunting rifle, and the last a nine-millimeter pistol. After also taking anything else of worth, he gestured for them to follow him. "I lead you to Megaton, okay? Just follow me, and keep an eye on your surroundings."
As they slunk away, Dare removed the camouflage and stored it away, drawing his revolver.
It was slow going. The former slaves were weak from abuse and starvation, so he gave them one of his pure bottles of water to share.
They made it to Megaton as the moon was rising behind them. The sniper gave them a very strange look, but waved them inside before he closed the gate for the night.
Entering Megaton, the first person he spied was Sheriff Simms as he headed for his house. Dare whistled, getting the man's attention.
The man sighed and approached them. "What's all this?"
Before he could answer, one of the former slaves interjected. "This man freed us! He killed the slavers and disarmed our bomb collars!"
Simms gave Dare an appraising look. "Really now? Well, you folks are safe here. Let me take you to see our Doc and set you up for the night. We'll handle the rest in the morning."
As he directed the slaves to the Doctor's, Simms smiled at Dare. "Good job, son."
Dare nodded to the man, and set off towards Craterside Supply, hoping to catch Moira before she locked up for the night. "Moira!" He called, seeing the woman turning her light off.
"Oh, Dare! Sorry to say, but I'm all closed for the night." She replied regretfully, but still with a cheerful tone, somehow.
"I'm not looking to sell anything…right now." He did get some stuff off of the slavers, but that wasn't what he was talking to her for. "Listen, do you remember Silver?"
Moira perked up. "Oh yes, the poor girl who lives outside. How do you know her?"
He scratched at the back of his head sheepishly. "I convinced her to quit Jet, and she lives in my house now. But, she told me that she's good with terminals, and I heard that your really good with them as well."
She nodded happily. "Yup! I just love tinkering with little things, it's very fun! And informative, too."
"Right. I was wondering, if it isn't too much trouble, could you teach her? Help her get experience and all that? I'll pay you." He thought for a second. "Actually, can you teach me as well? I'm not all that good with stuff like that."
Moira hummed in thought. "Well…if it's for a good cause…I don't see why not! Should I come over now?"
Dare shook his head. "Er, no. She's recovering from her addiction."
"Oh. Alrighty then."
"Moira, can you keep it a secret?" He asked seriously. "I told Moriarty she was dead to get him off her back."
She frowned lightly. "Why would I tell him anything? But in return to teaching you guys, I think I have another way you could repay me."
Dare blinked and nodded. "What?"
Moira waved him off, shaking her head. "Not right now, I'll tell you later." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It's very sweet of you to help her like this, just so you know."
He hid his embarrassment well, lightly scratching his cheek. "I can't help it. I have to help people. It's how I was raised."
She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a smile. "As I said, sweet. Sweet dreams, Dare."
"Night, Moira."
She disappeared into her store, the door locking behind her. Dare sighed and strode back to his house. After heating up some water, he washed the ink from his face and changed into some lighter clothes.
He walked up the stairs and checked in on Silver, finding the food and water he had left her gone, and her sleeping peacefully.
Smiling lightly to himself, he lay down on his bed and quickly fell asleep.
…
…
…
A/N: Well, that was quick. It's New Story Syndrome (NSS), where a new story grabs an author's attention because it's different. I'll probably lose interest in this in a bit, who knows?
Writing about a sniper is interesting, as well as Dare's morality. Despite being a cold sniper with a rather grey morality and brutal enjoyment of killing people at a distance, he hates injustice.
And yes, he did make a Ghillie suit.
I meant to put this in the first chapter, but here it is instead:
Character Profile: Dare
A.K.A: ?
Son of sniper and a Ranger, born in the Pacific North-Wasteland, Ruins of Seattle, and trained by his parents since he was able to understand complex concepts. A talented sniper who, instead of joining the militia or the NCR, left with a caravan to wander and find himself. Prefers using rifles and pistols.
Sniper's Mind: A condition that's run in his father's side of the family, almost all of whom were snipers at some point in their lives. It's trained into them at a young age, dampening emotion and enhancing their perception. ?. Theorized to be minor and benign mutation.
It's also interesting, because besides his training and Sniper's Mind, Dare is basically a regular guy. For the Wasteland, in any case.
I hope you enjoyed this. Why not review and tell me if you did?
If you didn't…fuck off, maybe?
Stay Awesome.
~Soleneus
P.S.: I really don't know how long my interest in this will last, but it's refreshing to not write about Mass Effect for awhile, though I am still working on Still Not a Hero, no worries there.
S'all I got.
Stay Awesome Some More.
~still Soleneus