The water lapped at the docks, rotten wood groaning slightly every now and then, the small shack resting there. A few lamps were lit, providing a soft glow, shadows dancing off of the figures standing around.
The primary one, gently carving away with a knife on a chunk of wood, a hunting rifle leaning against the structure. A middle aged woman, her hair brown and stringy, wearing a simple cloth shirt and Brahmin skin pants.
Nearby, conversing quietly, were two figures armed somewhat heavily with laser rifles, power armor glinting dully in the morning light. Black eyepieces simply swept back and forth, keeping an eye on things.
It had been almost 5 weeks since the Lone Wanderer had set out to rescue Catherine's daughter, and every day the woman sat there, carving away. Some days she carved small crosses. Other's she would carve small wooden medallions for the Brotherhood soldiers who happened to assigned to guard her dock.
They started showing up after the first week. Only intermittently. Now it was every day, for several hours.
She looked up as one of the soldiers walked over, their heavy armor thumping gently against the wooden planks. She laid the knife down, looking the figure in the face.
"May I help you?" Her voice was tired, worn. Many nights of crying and worrying for her daughter had drained her. The woman was running off of her last vestiges of energy.
"Perhaps you should rest ma'am. If we can't see the boat by now, it won't be until tomorrow that they could arrive." The knight gently put the oversized metal gauntlet on the woman's shoulder. She seemed to deflate at that, hands draping to her side.
"I suppose," she spoke, not at all persuaded. The knight frowned below his mask. Removing his hand, he scanned the horizon.
"Ma'am, we've got to continue our patrol. We'll be back in the morning." She only nodded. Gesturing to his ally, the two began to head out upriver, ready to unleash hell unto the mutant scum.
Heading down the river, the two knights met little resistance, only some ghouls and a trader caravan. Ever since project Purity got up and running, fresh water was helping heal the land somewhat. It was amazing what fresh water could do.
"Should we head back?" The knight, Petterson, turned to Jefferies. Despite the armor and mask, he knew Jefferies could read his questioning stance.
"She didn't look right. I'm worried she might take her life," he elaborated. Petterson nodded.
"It's possible. Since Paladin Jane cleared this all out the muties have been slow to repopulate. I don't think it would be too much of an issue to call it clear and head back," mused Petterson, eyes scanning the horizon. Stopping at the coast, his eyes narrowed.
"What's that?" Pointing, Jefferies spun around. Fumbling with his helmet, he yanked it off, bringing up a pair of binoculars to his eyes, looking at the object.
"It's a boat!" he exclaimed, jaw hanging. Petterson stormed over, grabbing the binoculars. Swapping his helmet for the device, he took a look.
It was definitely a boat. Larger, with a canopy on top. Smoke drifted from the back, evidence of some kind of motor. It trundled along easily, wake turning the greenish blue waters white temporarily.
Pulling them away, he reached into his bag, grabbing a scope. While most scopes were mounted upon their guns, it was useless to use a scope capable of 200x magnification. Better to use it as a makeshift telescope than mount it on a gun.
His heart almost stopped.
On the prow of the boat stood a familiar figure. Dressed in a black stormcoat, helmet and mask bolted onto the waist with a sword on the other side, stood Paladin Jane Freewrite, probably the best example of recruiting outsiders. Except, she was different.
She stood atop the prow, balanced despite the rocking of the ship. Hands held at her sides horizontally, hands splayed, she looked forward.
Pulling the eyeglass away, he adjusted it, increasing the zoom. Ignoring the cries of Jefferies asking to see, he instead watched, withholding the urge to shout.
Blood ran off of her figure, dried and cracked. Her coat had the remains of something on it, while the lens of one eye on her helmet seemed cracked. But it was her face he froze at.
Eyes alight with an emotion he could not place, a demented grin pulling her mouth open almost painfully, as if she was laughing at some sick joke. Her hair was stained red with the blood, wind pulling it gently across her form.
He paused when she started to move and looked straight at him. Wondering if she could honestly see him, he could only watch as one of her arms slowly pointed towards him, hand curling into a fist, index and middle finger aimed ahead.
"Almost like a-" He didn't get the chance to finish as she mimed firing a gun.
His scope cracked, the glass shattering into a thousand fragments. The metal casing ripped outwards, deformed by an imaginary force. Fragments smashed into the earth, cutting deeply, while more than a few glass shards deflected off of Jefferies armor.
"Fuck! Sniper!" he screamed, throwing away the now destroyed scope. Smashing his helmet on he dived for cover.
"Get to the dock! We'll radio en-route!" shouted Petterson, already running back the way they came.
Jefferies seemed only to glad, thinking it was mutants or raiders. Petterson wasn't sure what to think, only knowing that he had to get to the docks and confront the Paladin and ask exactly what the fuck was going on.
Arriving just outside the dock, they prepared to storm the area when a brilliant green flash erupted, turning night into hellish green day.
Covering his eyes against the light, even through the polarizing filter, he was glad for the armor negating the pressure wave.
When the green light cleared, there was only the orang glow of fire. Bolting forward as fast as his armor could go, Petterson stopped, a spike of horror driving into his soul.
Paladin Jane stood there, fire curling around her form, yet not damaging her. In her right hand, held slightly off the ground was Catherine. In her right was a short knife, it's polished blade shining in the firelight of the night.
Before he could do anything Jane plunged the knife into Catherine's forehead, the weak struggle of the woman ceasing. It was almost poetic, her suffering for so long put to an end by the same person she had sought out to help.
Throwing the corpse to the ground, Jane started to walk forward, towards where Petterson and now Jefferies stood, the light doing strange things to the armor.
"Stop right there Paladin!" exclaimed Jefferies, aiming his rifle at Jane. Petterson was about to point the gun down, scolding the recruit when Jane did it for him.
Specifically, she crossed almost 15 feet in a split second, wrenching the gun from his hands and breaking it between her hands, snapping it in two like so much driftwood.
"Nobody can go back," she grinned, that same, feral grin pulling her face open. "Nobody can go back to the land God forgot," she continued, pushing past the now scared recruit.
Seeing her continue onwards, Petterson tried one more time to stop her.
"What happened there Paladin Jane?" he shouted. She paused, head turning to look behind her, one red eye almost boring a hole through his helmet.
"God hath forsaken the land," she began, eyes closing, that same grin pulling at her face.
"And those that God forsaketh found a refuge," she finished, feet taking her away. Petterson didn't dare follow her, Jefferies wisely doing the same. Watching her figure retreat, he felt like praying to the gods of the old world, seeing white mist roll up from the water, enshrouding the area, concealing her form from view.
The two stood there, the cooling corpse and burning ship the only company, unable to come to terms with what had happened.
The report filed would only state that raiders attacked, and the two soldiers were forced to retreat after experiencing heavier than expected resistance.
Her mask pressed against her face comfortably, the seals pressed against her face. Stale air poured gently through the mask filters, the faint taste of earth and radiation present, despite having changed the filter. The white lens on her mask, now replaced, illuminated everything in greater detail.
She gripped her sword, spinning it a few times in her palm. The switch was turned off, leaving the polished blade dark. She stood at one end of the arena, harsh light shining from above. Her other hand held her gun loosely, the pistol loaded, safety on.
Across from her stood her opponent. Shorter than her, silver hair, arrogant smirk. A black and silver themed outfit with heavier looking boots. Tilting her head, she tried to find an obvious weapon. No sword, no gun, not even a staff. No bracers of any sort. Not even a stiff looking jacket. Perhaps the boots?
"And begin!" The shout from Goodwitch started the battle.
Jane switched the safety, the soft click echoing. Mercury, her opponent, slid one foot forward, both arms retreating behind his back. Jane shifted her stance, bringing her sword up.
Neither combatant moved, seemingly weighing each other's capabilities. She could tell immediately he was like that girl Cinder. The personality they presented was different from what she could see.
This kid, no older than the majority of team RWBY, was dangerous. He had killed before. He had seen death. She smirked beneath her mask. This school was proving to be quite interesting. She wondered idly if Ozpin knew he had mysterious students hiding in his school. Could be interesting.
Almost 2 years in the wastes gave her an almost perfect ability to observe people. She could see he was waiting for her to make a move. A feral grin leapt to her face. So be it. It was usually her to made the first move anyways.
Leveling her pistol, she fired a round.
Mercury stepped left, moving nimbly, the round sparking against the ground. The kid spun around, kicking his foot forward, aimed at Jane.
She spun to the right, seeing a shot race towards her. The storm coat flared outwards, balancing her spin. Twisting around, she fired a trio of rounds, all failing to hit. Mercury dodged two of them, while kicking a third away.
Jane had to hand it to the kid, kicking bullets away isn't an easy task. She withheld her curiosity as to how he was able to kick a bullet and not suffer a cracked foot.
He dashed forward, the newly discovered guns on his feet propelling him forward. A wild kick and he was flying, one foot ready to fire a shot at her point blank range. Using the flat of her blade she pushed his foot away, the shot flying harmlessly beside her head. A flick of her thumb caused energy to arc along the blade.
With a curse Mercury recoiled, the energy getting through his aura. With him on the retreat, Jane pressed forward. Firing another trio of shots, she simultaneously swiped with her sword, hoping to get another strike in.
Mercury, expecting this, jumped back and kicked his other leg out, firing another shot. This time, instead of the shot going straight for her, it turned into a white ball of mist and began to circle her. Several more kicks with his foot and there were a number of these white mist things flying around.
Jane idly noted that these white blurs formed a tight circle, keeping her movement somewhat limited. Firing experimentally at the white mist, she had to cover her eyes when the object exploded.
Right then, not getting hit by that.
Mercury got in close again, no longer using his guns. Instead he kicked, using his feet almost entirely to attack her. Using her sword and pistol she intercepted the attacks. Admittedly this was a confusing fight as her close quarters combat method relied upon her arms and torso, whereas Mercury seemed to be a prodigy at using only his lower body.
Stabbing forward, he dodged her strike by strafing to the left. Lining up her shot, she fired twice, the rounds sparking off of that white barrier.
Above them, the aura readers measured Mercury's dipping by about a quarter, leaving him just on the edge of the orange.
Almost snarling now, Mercury redoubled his efforts, lashing out with his food for another shot.
He wasn't sure who was more surprised, Mercury or Jane, when the shot didn't fire, instead an ugly sounding tearing of metal inside the chamber. Jane could only stare as his ankle seemed to swell slightly. Leaping backwards, she had only one thing to say as the ankle swelled even more.
"Fuck!"
The now swollen ankle exploded, white mist and fire rushing outwards. The shockwave pushed her back, sending her into the wall of white mist, causing a further detonation.
The earth seemed to fly backwards, her form rushing rapidly backwards. Her sword left her grip, flying somewhere, her gun doing the same.
She cried out when her head hit the wall, rest of her body following. Her vision swam when a sharp pain entered her abdomen, lancing straight through. A scream left her mouth, amplified by the mechanical speaker on her helmet as several thousand volts seemed to lance through her.
Despite her pain, she managed to open her eyes.
Mercury was against one wall, missing a leg from below his knee. Black scorch marks littered the area, small craters evident. Goodwitch was running towards Mercury, her riding crop brandished, a worried look on her face.
Pain and energy still lanced through her, preventing her mind from loosing consciousness. Her mind distantly wondered why she was seeing everything from higher up. Looking at her torso, her mind finally clicked.
"Oh that's where you went!" she slurred. Her vision was doubling, but she was pretty sure that her sword had her pinned to the wall about 12 feet up. Did nobody notice her?
Reaching forward to flick the switch on the handle, she screamed as her body slid forward, the handle stopping her. The motion seemed to be enough, as the sword separated from the wall, her body falling.
Screaming, her body struck the ground, muscles spasming randomly from excess electrical charge. With a roar, her hand grasped the handle, the sword having slipped outwards. She didn't have enough strength to pull the blade out. Grasping the edge, she pulled it back in, bringing the handle to within arms distance. Unaware of the students screaming, some disgorging their lunches, Jane pressed the switch on the handle.
Black spots began to form over her vision. He cursed, knowing what was going to happen.
"Haven't fucking passed out since-!" Her head struck the ground, eyes closed.
Her eyes opened.
Endless burnt desert stretched before her, blackened trees and ruins dotting the landscape. In the distance there was smoke, possibly from a battle. Nearby there were some aircraft wreckage, both from brotherhood and enclave forces.
"You are so like myself."
She spun around, reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Standing there in the desert, as if nothing had happened, was Colonel Autumn, his southern accent trailing.
"What? Where am I?" she yelled, taking a step forward.
When she moved, he shifted backwards, the distance between them not closing.
"You fought us, tooth and nail, thinking you were better. Believed us to be the embodiment of all that was evil."
"Because you were!" she screamed, pointing a finger at him. She gasped, seeing her arm. Looking at herself, she noticed instead of the armor she had grown used to, it was her vault 101 jumpsuit.
"Were we? The Enclave sought to bring order, stability to Washington. So we had to cleanse it of the mutated filth, a small price to pay." Autumn stared at her, grey eyes unblinking, hands clasped behind him. She noticed his coat was unmarked, missing the 3 inch hole her shotgun had bored into him.
"You were going to kill thousands! All because they simply existed!" Autumn tsk'd.
"And how many did you kill Lone Wanderer? How many did you end, all because you had to, all because there was no choice? How many women and children did you slaughter at The Pitt, how many died on your travels in the wastes?"
She bit her tongue. She honestly wasn't sure. Before the Pitt she had easily killed over a hundred people, probably on the upper end of 200. It wasn't that she went out of her way, it was that things always spiralled out of control.
After the Pitt, after that, that massacre, she no longer kept track. She didn't know how many had died, but it had forever weight on her mind, causing her to lose sleep. That had changed her, and not for the better.
"You killed us."
She spun around. A hand coming up to her mouth.
Sarah.
She was wearing her power armor, lacking her helmet. Dusty blond hair, dented grey metal. It was Sarah. Her Sarah.
Tears in her crimson eyes, Jane started to walk forward, one arm moving for Sarah.
An angry scowl overcame her face, crystal blue eyes narrowing.
"You killed us, you killed me!" Jane recoiled, the shock of those words hitting harder and deeper than any bullet ever had.
"No! I would never-"
"Never what!" retorted Sarah. "You bombed out the Citadel! You caused Rivet City to fall into the waters!"
"She's right." Jane spun around, facing Autumn, tears pooling in her eyes.
"After Liberty Prime, the system defaulted to the Pentagon. We were trying to override it when you and your brotherhood cohorts attacked our airbase."
Seeing her shock, Autumn pressed on, a grin overtaking his face.
"Face it Wanderer, you killed the Wasteland, burned it and scarred it more perfectly than the bombs ever could. I doubt even the Enclave could have done a more perfect job."
Her vision was blurring, black spots appearing at the edge of her vision.
"You killed us all!" screamed Sarah, her voice distorting. Movement felt sluggish, but still she turned, facing Sarah.
"I didn't mean to!" she yelled back, tears pouring from her eyes. She tried running towards Sarah, arms reaching out towards her. Sarah's form moved backwards, the distance never shrinking. The blackness grew, her vision tunneling.
"You killed us all!" she screamed, finger pointing at Jane, shaking from anger. The black spots overtook her vision, the sensation of falling overcoming her.
She fell, blackness swimming by her. Invisible wind tore at her, the thin jumpsuit offering no protection.
White pinpricks started to appear in the distance, rushing towards her. She crossed her arms, attempting to shield herself from the objects. They whisked by her, light streaming past. More of the white specks flashed by, gaining speed.
It felt like she was falling towards the earth, but there was nothing to hit, only a constant force of gravity pulling her down towards some non-existent point. She began to flip backwards, spinning rapidly.
Tears still poured from her eyes, but the force of her spin and the wind dried her eyes as quickly as they could form. White specks still flew past her. The sky seemed to lighten, illuminating the object she was heading for.
A black sphere, the light illuminating the sky on the other side, creating a mockery of a solar eclipse. Screaming, Jane once again covered her face, seeing the ground rush up to her.
She struck the ground.
"Gah! Fuck!" Forcing the curse out, Jane rolled onto her back, looking upwards. Doing a mental check, she was relieved that no bones were broken. Slowly getting to her feet, she looked around.
A field of wheat. Waist high, motes of light rising slowly upwards. An invisible wind rippled across, causing the field to move with it.
You killed them.
She spun around, hand reaching for her gun. This time there was one.
You killed them all.
The voice came from behind, she spun and let out a shot, only to see there was nothing.
How many did you kill?
Again, the voices. Was she losing it? Was this what happened to people who had a mental break?
How many will you kill?
None, if she could stand it. She didn't want to kill, never wanted to. It was always because she was forced into it.
You burned the earth, killed it again. The Capital Wasteland is now a distant memory.
No, Megaton still survived, surely they would live.
Megaton relied upon traders. But you left nothing to trade. They will wither and die like the land around them.
Jane fell to her knees, half holding the gun in front of her. Her other arm was gripped around her torso.
Will you burn this world too? Will you destroy it as thoroughly as DC?
No, she wouldn't, this world didn't know of the horrors of nuclear war, they didn't have the bombs!
But there are so few of them. A slight nudge and they could all die.
No, they were hardier than that, they would live.
You'll kill them all.
I do not own RWBY or Fallout 3. All works belong to their respective creators.
Also, while I have been getting nothing but story and author alert's and favorites, I could definitely use reviews. They help me guide the story a little. Figure out where I went wrong, what I did good. As the phrase goes, flames are welcome.
