They never stood a chance. It couldn't even be called a battle really, they were dead in less than a minute. Three untrained hostiles wearing bits of leather, armed with improvised weapons, against two veteran covert operatives with military grade weapons and armor, the element of surprise, and a German Shepherd, that's not a contest. Mikhail took the one furthest down the street with a single shot to the head. I flipped my SMG to three round burst and dispatched his colleague, ventilating his chest with a trio of fresh holes. The last one tried to charge us with a pool cue, only to be tackled by the dog, who promptly clamped his jaws around the woman's throat and tore it out with a bright red gush of blood.

Making our way up the street, we found the source of the laser that had come oh so close to leaving me without a nose. It was a man wearing an outfit that looked like something out of Revolutionary war reenactment. He called down to us, apparently there were more raiders, as he called them, inside and they were trying to get to him and some civilians he was holed up with. We entered the building, an old tourist attraction that I knew of but had never been to, and almost immediately took fire from above. There was a woman with another one of those pipe rifles on top of some kind of destroyed walkway, a second later she hit the ground with a thump and a fresh hole in her head.

We moved room by room, eliminating hostiles as they presented themselves. I hated the room with all the mannequins, I despise mannequins in a conflict zone. They're more common than you'd think, and they take a tenth of a second to register as noncombatants. That is more than enough time to get ambushed. There weren't that many of them, and they were by no means professional. We found a fusion core while we were clearing the basement, the encryption on the terminal was child's play, a few clicks of the keys and the door was open. Then it was a simple matter of walking in and yanking the FC out of the backup generator.

Something the raiders in the mural room said caught my attention. They didn't hear us approach, which was surprising considering the fact that Mikhail's rifle wasn't suppressed. "Man, why don't we just bolt? We got no reason to stick around and get shot."

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, one of them had hit the other. "Stop being such a pansy. We stick to the plan and hold out for the others." Others, reinforcements, this situation was just getting better and better.

"What are you? Deaf? There's someone out there shooting the place up. I ain't sitting around waiting to die." He sounded scared. That was good, I can work with scared. We needed to find out more about these reinforcements, learn whether we were talking about five more guys with pipe rifles, or a modern day Mongol horde. I motioned to Mikhail, I take the one on the right, he got the one on the left, and to take him alive. We moved on a three count.

Three… two… one… we popped up at the same time. I squeezed the trigger and three rounds turned the raider's head into a fine red mist. His friend spun around, coming face to muzzle with Mikhail's rifle. His hand went for the pipe pistol dangling from his belt, Mikhail jabbed the barrel of his gun right between the man's eyes, "Don't even think about it suka." The raider's hand went still, "put your hands on your head, turn around, and get on your knees."

He did as he was told, "Hey man, no need t-"

"Quiet," I relieved him of his pistol and the other items he had hanging from his belt, Mikhail's rifle made sure he didn't try anything. I grabbed him one arm at a time and restrained him using some handcuffs I'd found in the vault. I knelt down and looked him in the eyes, "We have questions. You're going to answer them. You're going to answer promptly and truthfully. I'm personally against the use of torture," I pointed to Mikhail, who grinned like the wolf he was, "My friend here is not." The dog moved in, putting his snout right next to the man's ear. He bared his teeth, letting out a low growl, and exhaling hot breath on the man's face. "And apparently neither is my other friend."

The raider was in a good sweat now, between the gun poking the back of his head, the dog ready to rip his throat out, or me in front of him, cutting through him with my eyes. I have a piercing gaze, it's something I'm proud of. Ming used to say that my eyes went from emeralds to nuclear reactors when I was pissed, that if I stared at someone too long they'd melt from radiation. I took it as a compliment.

"First question, how many others are with you?" I kept count, including the ones outside, we had eliminated six and captured this one. Judging from the size of the building, I'd estimate a maximum of six and a minimum of two.

Mikhail dug the rifle into the raider's shoulder blades. "Nine, ergh… eight of us, we left three guys outside."

That left two to deal with, "How many reinforcements do you have coming?" I gestured for Mikhail to go handle the last two. I could handle this one.

The raider squealed as the dog decided to replace Mikhail's rifle with his own method of giving the raider incentive. He locked his jaws around the man's neck, one squeeze and the man was dead. I was really starting to like this dog. The raider did his best not to move while he looked up at me, "I don't know."

I turned towards the mural, it was nice. A portrait of the patriots fighting on land that would become my neighborhood, the USS Montana sailing off to war, Marines on Iwo Jima, the Tenth Orbital Combat Wing fighting in the Sea of Tranquility in 2073, and the First Armored Infantry Division in Anchorage in January of 2077. I was involved in the Battle of Anchorage and the Lunar Conflict, I conducted an operation that guaranteed our victory on the moon. We were so proud of that, we popped champagne on the flight back. Now I wasn't too sure that I hadn't inadvertently helped us along the way to nuclear Armageddon. "I'm not okay with that."

"Agghh," the dog squeezed a little tighter, "I don't know… shit, Gristle sent us ahead to keep 'em here. We're supposed to grab the old lady, Jared wants her, says she can see the future." I'd laugh it off as the deranged superstition of an uneducated savage, but then again, I was standing in the ruins of a museum in the town where I used to go to church while my hyper-intelligent German Shepherd and I interrogated a post-apocalyptic bandit. So my sense of skepticism was a little quiet at the moment.

"What's your name?" The question seemed to throw him for a moment.

"W…what?"

I turned back to him, "What is your name? I like to know who I'm dealing with."

"A...A…Asher," for the first time I thoroughly studied him, taking in his features. He was covered in dirt, thin as a rail, and he reminded me of someone. Getting a good look at him now, I noticed just how young he was. Christ, he was young, I started noticing the little details that I hadn't before. I noticed the little bit of baby fat somehow clinging to his cheeks. I noticed the few individual hairs jutting out of his chin, an obviously failing attempt to grow a beard. Shit, he was just a kid.

"Asher," I mused, "Hebrew for blessed. How old are you Asher?"

That stoked some defiance, he stared up at me with a touch of fire in his eyes. "Fifteen," there was even a little edge to his voice. It was actually a pretty impressive feat considering his present circumstances. The sound of two gunshots came from upstairs, Mikhail had handled the last two.

I dropped back to his level, "Let me tell you something Asher, your friends are dead. And though fifteen might make you old enough to fight and kill around here, back where I'm from, you should be busy with midterms, sneaking booze, and chasing cheerleaders. You're not even old enough to vote or drink."

I brushed a stray hair out of my eyes, "My point is, you're young, in my eyes you're a kid." I grimaced, "Unfortunately I can say I've killed younger. I don't want to kill you Asher, I'd like to help you, but if you want any chance to make this situation better for yourself, you're going to need to start answering my questions, starting with a rough approximation of how many people are coming."

I tilted my head to the side, indicating for the dog to let go, I'd struck a chord, I could tell. Asher's eyes went to the floor, "Just leave the old lady with me, take the rest of them and go. Gristle and his guys, they'll kill you, and they won't do it clean." There was desperation in his voice, and disgust, he wasn't okay with the way these guys operated. Fear, I could work with, ideological differences, with those I could play him like a well-tuned piano.

"Oh honey," I took hold of his chin and brought his eyes up to mine. "It's sweet of you to worry, but trust me," a predator's grin spread over my face, "This Gristle, him and everyone with him, they're going to die. I don't particularly enjoy killing people, neither does Mikhail, but we are very good at it."

Indecision flickered in his eyes, I met it with unflinching certainty in my own. Then he closed his eyes for a second and sighed in defeat. I had him. "There are like a hundred of us at the factory, Gristle has about twenty guys in his crew, he'll probably bring a couple extra 'cause Jared really wants the fortuneteller."

I let go of his chin, and stood up. "Good boy," I ruffled his hair. "Keep this up and we can turn this nasty situation into a good opportunity for you." I pointed to the dog, "My friend here is going to keep you company while I go and check on how things are going upstairs." As I was walking out, I paused and looked back at the kid, "Asher, I'm serious about wanting to help you. Believe it or not, I'm probably the only real friend you've had in a while."

I headed up the stairs to where Mikhail was talking with the man from the balcony. I eyed his weapon as I stepped over the two corpses of Asher's colleagues, it looked like some sort of improvised laser rifle. Crank powered, no need for microfusion cells, you had to admire the ingenuity. There was another man working on a terminal, a woman pacing across the room, a man curled up with his head in his hands, and an old woman sitting on the couch. She had to be the fortuneteller they were after.

"Madison," Mikhail turned to me, "this is Preston Garvey, the last surviving member of the Commonwealth Minutemen." He indicated the man in the colonial outfit.

"Minuteman," my eyebrow arched in curiosity. "So now we're going backwards in time." I shook my head, "it doesn't matter. The guy downstairs, I turned him. According to him, we've got about twenty to twenty-five incoming. We need to start prepping for when they get here."

Mikhail nodded, "Preston and I were just discussing that. He and Sturges here," he gestured to the man working on the computer, swearing every couple of minutes, "They have a plan, there's a minigun and a suit of power armor on the roof, all it needs is a fusion core to get it working."

A feline smile curled across my lips.

"I can work with that."

…

Okay guys, I'm sorry I missed you last week, but I got swept up in my graduation. By the way, I officially have an associate's degree now. So, once again, sorry about missing the update last week, but I was busy. I'll try to keep things regular from now on.

Oh and I wanted to thank LotusBlossomGenie, my first reviewer for this story. I love hearing from you guys, feedback is what I live for. Also LBG, don't worry, I never quit a story over low views or favorites, my usual reason is that I'll get writers block, or have a new idea pop into my head that just refuses to be ignored. I've only ever managed to finish one story so far, An Imperial Lily, and even that I might go back and add to. I'd encourage all of you to check it out.

Either way, R&R people.

Later.