Incense filled air weighed heavily on my senses. Like, damn. Really heavily. Burke seemed to have a thing for incense. I had been summoned to his suite in order to discuss "business", according to the letter that had been delivered to my room earlier this morning. It had been there when I returned from scavenging, waiting for me on my bed.
This led me to believe two things; one, Burke had information on Rachel, something that excited me in a way that I would describe as almost orgasmic, and two, that someone had walked into my room and messed with my shit when I wasn't there, which pissed me off. I resolved to find that poor individual and rip their arms off after I was done doing the same to Rachel.
"Alright, Burke. Ten minutes doing jack shit, being suffocated by your excessive use of incense is enough. Do you have information for me or not?" I snapped, the heat of the room breaking my already dangerously short patience.
Burke straightened up in his chair, uncrossing his arms. Inhaling deeply, he took out a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to me.
"My apologies, Wanderer. I was only enjoying our company."
Rolling my eyes, I unfolded the piece of paper. Enclosed was a dirty map, along with what looked to be a picture. A picture of a dirty blonde, slender looking girl with two giant robots, all three instantly recognizable.
"Oh, this is good. That bitch is mine now… well, thanks Burke –"
I looked up, intending to actually thank someone for once. But Burke's seat was empty. I grunted in displeasure. That guy sure was a weirdo. I took his vacated chair as a sign to see myself out, so gathering my gear, I rose from my seat, tucking the map and picture into my front pocket. I had never been so glad to leave a room. My lungs were probably sixty percent incense at this point, and the smells had left me feeling nauseous. Clear air was what I needed to shake this ill feeling, and Rachel's brutal death would probably help too. Trotting down the stairwell, I exited Tenpenny Tower to the courtyard.
Several residents were gathered there, drinking and socializing. Some even waved to me. I nodded back. I had "helped" several residents with their "issues", which had gained me their friendship. And trust me, these psychos were not people you wanted to be on the wrong side of. I chuckled a little bit to myself as I left the gate of Tenpenny Tower, entering the Wastes. Man, the stories I could tell about some of the sickos that lived in Tenpenny could make even a Centaur vomit in disgust.
Stopping just outside the gate, I patted myself down. I had my 500, along with plenty of ammo. Several pistols hung from various holsters on my body, with clips of ammunition tucked close by. With my hunting rifle slung across my back, the strap snug across my chest, I was ready. Taking out the map, the dirty paper difficult to read, I scanned the info. A bright red circle encompassed a small area within the confines of the Wastes, with the words "entrance to Vault 112" written above it. I had been there once, briefly. I had gone to save my dear old man, and ended up almost trapped in the Overseer's psychopathic virtual wet dream. That was not a good time, let me tell you something. Typing the coordinates into my Pipboy, I trekked out into the Wastes. With any luck, it would only take me a half day or so to reach Rachel's location. Then… sweet vengeance.
Time passed without much notice. Occasionally I would pass a wild Mole Rat or dog, but I removed them from this world with little trouble. The sun made its march across the sky, the muggy heat of the DC Wastes causing me to break a sweat. At least it was quiet. Walking along, I spotted a nearby rubble pile, which looked as good a place as any to take a quick break. I reached it quickly, squatting on a large chunk of concrete at the top of the pile. Swinging my canteen off my back and taking a large gulp, I gazed at my surroundings. Gray. All gray.
Sometimes the Wastes were a lonely place, I felt. But then again, I guess I kinda liked it –
A searing pain blistered the side of my head as black stars spotted my vision. I gasped, the sudden pain knocking a portion of my breath out of my body. I scrambled away, just in time to catch a large, well-polished boot to the face. The kick sent me to my back, the sun blazing into my vision. Trying to get up, a fist entered my vision, pounding itself into my face as another grasped my collar. Several punches landed, my sight obscured by a flurry of punches.
Roaring in pain and frustration, I flailed my arms and legs out, connecting solidly with a body. A grunt of pain could be heard as shouts from the distance joined the noise. I jumped to my feet, pulling two 9s from my holsters. I let out a hail of shots in all directions, hoping to gain some breathing room. Backpedalling from the pile, I wiped my face on my sleeve, clearing away my blood from my eyes.
Nothing. No one was there. The pile was the only thing I could see.
"Alright, fuckers! Show yourselves!"
Silence. For a minute, I thought I had pissed off the wind. Then, with a fluid motion, a lanky figure stepped out from behind the pile I had only moments before been resting on.
"The name is Sonora, Wanderer. Sonora Cruz. Me, along with my band of Regulators, are here to bring you to justice. Your crimes include murder, mass murder culminating in the total annihilation of the city of Megaton, theft, acting within bounds of the slavers of Paradise Falls, plotting with recognized criminals and fugitives of the Wastes, arson, perjury, and in general just being a nasty pile of shit. You are sentenced by authority of the Regulator Order to death, with no appeal -"
"Holy shit lady. Please shut the fuck up."
I spat on the ground, my bleeding mouth choking me with nasty black blood. Three more Regulators had fanned themselves out from behind the pile, various weapons clutched in their hands. Cruz, hindered for a moment from giving what seemed like a practiced and anticipated speech, struggled to continue speaking.
"Nuh-uh, bitch. You don't say shit until I'm done talking. And the last thing you're gonna hear is me crushing your damn skull."
I flung myself back, emptying my guns in the direction of the Regulators. Blood exploded from the shoulder of one, a gaping hole appearing in the skull of another. Hitting the ground hard, I rolled right, ending up in a crater in the ground. The two Regulators and Cruz returned fire. Bullets filled the air, the familiar hiss of their passing kicking my mind into survival mode. I crouched, reloading my pistols in preparation for my own attack.
"Standard formation! Sweep and shoot!"
Cruz's voice could be heard as the firing stop, the sound of reloading weapons heard as the remaining Regulators shouted amongst themselves. I could hear one approaching, footsteps clear amongst the sudden silence. A shadow appeared to my left, my body hidden just out of sight under the lip of the crater.
"Hey!-"
Her voice cut short just as she spotted me. I grabbed her leg and pulled hard. She fell, the impact deadening her voice and knocking the wind straight out of her. Pulling her into the crater with me, I wrapped my hands around her neck, her windpipe thin under my hands. I squeezed, the face of the Regulator frozen in an unheard scream of terror. Her legs, a fury of spasms, clawed at the dirt. Her hands dug at mine, a last ditch attempt to gain any sort of breath. I squeezed harder, the pain from my injuries fueling my rage. A sickening squelch sounded as her throat finally caved in, the Regulator's eyes bugging out. Dropping her limp body to the ground, I crouch-walked to the end of the crater. Only two remained. Cruz had taken position on top of my former pile, her back to me as she scanned the horizon for any sign of me. The other Regulator was still sweeping the area. His back was also to me, his path of searching leading away from my crater.
I hopped out, keeping low to the ground as I covered the distance between us. Halfway to him, I broke out in a full-out sprint. Hearing my thundering footsteps, his head snapped towards me just in time to receiving a vicious uppercut. The sound of destroyed spine, distinct against the quiet, punctuated the crashing of his body to the dirt.
Spinning around, I leveled my weapon at Cruz. She had already done the same. A quick one, I'll give her that.
"Alright, alright. Look here, Cruz. Your people are dead, but you don't have to die. I'm feeling mighty generous today. It would not be smart of you to ignore that. So, take this opportunity. Leave. And I'll let you go."
Her eyes flicked to the crumpled body of the male Regulator and back to me. I hadn't moved my pistol, and I had no intention. Walking down from atop the pile, she kept her weapon pointed straight, the gun showing no wavering in her sturdy grip.
"A Regulator never runs from a fight, but I know when I'm outmatched. I know your type, Wanderer. How about we settle this the old fashioned way, huh? We draw. The quickest of us walks."
Her words were calm compared to the look on her face. A nervous pall had covered her, and she licked her lips constantly. The very sight made me burst into laughter.
"You know what, Cruz. Fine. We'll do things your way, since I'm such a nice guy like that."
A look of slight determination made its way to her face. That made me smile. She actually thought she had a chance. But she never faced anyone like me. Besides, I wasn't even human! What a fucking moron.
"Twenty paces, shoot when ready." Cruz called out, already walking backwards to her position. I grinned in agreement, making my way to my spot.
"Oh, I hope you don't mind me using my baby for this little shoot out." I said, holstering my 9 and pulling out my 500. The sun glinted off its well-oiled barrel, sending sunlight scattering about.
Cruz's eyes widened. I doubt she'd ever seen a gun like this, especially in the Capitol Wastes. I shook it at her, my grin widening. Her armored face cracked, showing the fear within. I could almost smell it, the intoxication of her terror giving rise to a dark feeling of satisfaction within me. Her death would be an appetizer for Rachel's.
Squaring up, we faced each other, hands over holsters. Cruz breathed steadily, her heaving chest the only indication of the terror she must have been experiencing. I stood still as stone, my hand draped over my 500. No matter what, one of us was a goner.