Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's irradiated and fatal content.

... Dust's POV ...

Dust grimaced. "Fuck." She muttered. The sun had risen high into the sky. It was around noon, and she was running out of time. It had been a full day after Silas, the Hunter, the Night personified, had let her loose. A full day after her terrifying conversation with that demon. One day after she had held a terrifying, and strangely thrilling conversation with one of the most feared and respected men on the Eastern Shores.

She kept walking. There was nothing else that she could do. She had run out of energy long ago, and it took most of her willpower to keep walking. Eighteen hours back, she had ditched her pack. Yes, it had food, ammo, and other things she needed in it, but they would only slow her down. Besides, she had eaten and drank all that she needed beforehand, so there was no real drawback from leaving the pack behind asides from the lack of caps that she would have.

Not that it was going to be a problem. Dust was naturally a quiet person, so stealing some cash from the other scum at Ripps wouldn't be too difficult. Except for getting there. Dust groaned aloud, and nearly stopped there. She was still two days from Ripps, and there was no way that she would make it there before Silas caught her. She briefly considered making a last stand, possibly ambushing Silas, but she dismissed the thought immediately. He could be ten paces behind her right now, and she wouldn't even know it until she felt the knife enter her back. Silas wasn't called things like Shadow, and Night for nothing.

This was when Dust's survival instinct kicked in. So what if he's a legend? She thought angrily. So what if he can hold his own against some of the most dangerous creatures and people on the planet. So fucking what if he's a god damned vampire! Dust knew that she'd rather kill herself than go down without a fight.

"If he wants me," Dust began, speaking quietly. "He'll have to fight me every step of the way."

... Silas' POV ...

Unbeknownst to both Silas and Dust, both of them were in a bad mood because of the other. Dust, because she was the hunted, and Silas, because he had other business to take care of, and she was going to be a distraction and drain of time. His head was whirling with activity as he made his way to the Park. There were a myriad number of problems that were going on in the Park, and not all of them as easy to see or resolve as the others.

Gill was looking to raise the average price of everything sold in the Park by fifteen caps. This was because Orville's hunting and scav parties had been less fruitful then they usually were. This was because of the bandits that Silas had just taken out looting and pillaging everything that they could get their damned hands on. Nobody seemed to understand this besides Silas and Orville, so Gill was pissed off because his proposal hadn't passed, and the council hadn't taken it into reconsideration, Parker was pissed because Gill was being an annoying prick, and Lane was indifferent because her men wouldn't suffer if the proposal was passed, or vetod.

And they were all pissed at Silas because he knew all of this and explained it to them in depth.

Gill was looking for a way to overthrow the Marshall as the Mayor, and replace him with the Business Rep, himself. He wanted to line his own pockets along with the other business men's as well. Parker was pissed because he knew that, and he knew that Gill was an untrustworthy sonnovabitch who would be his friend, and then throw him out on his ass as soon as he figured out how he could pull the coup off. Lane didn't give a damn at all. Orville was pissed off because Gill and Parker were pissed at him, angry because his men had failed the town, and furious because nobody but Silas understood the situation regarding the bandits and their ties to the hunter's scavenging and hunting.

This could be resolved by keeping things they were, with the Marshall as Mayor, with the deciding vote, and having the council vote on what would be passed or not. But nobody wanted things to stay the same, and although Silas hadn't said it aloud, this meant that the Park would crumble, and his men would have to move their headquarters elsewhere. Silas didn't know where that would be, but he didn't want to have to deal with it. The Park was a big town, with good men in it. They didn't deserve the problems that they had.

But that was life, and they had to accept it. The people would live, and they would press on as they always had. As Silas approached the Park's Barrier, he felt himself relax. With all of it's flaws, the Park was still his home. It might not have always been, but it was now. He walked towards the bridge, giving a nod to Sam, his sniper. She was on wall guard most of the time, day and night. She was looking at him now, undoubtedly. Silas glanced upwards, checking the time. Around one. Shane was probably on guard with her.

Silas grinned. Poor bastard. Sam was well known for her looks, and being alone up there with her was probably driving the poor man mad. Silas didn't envy him. Silas was halfway across the bridge when he was greeted by a guard. "Good to see you're still alive." One of them offered. Silas nodded.

"Officer Williams, right?" The guard nodded.

"Yes sir." Silas clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by.

"See you another time Harrison." It was a very fortunate thing, Silas reflected, that the guards had at least some sense of discipline. That and Parker would have anyone who was slacking tied to the a brahmin's backside for dereliction of duty.

The checkpoint didn't bother checking who Silas was. They knew him, and waved him through. As a respected mercenary captain, and council member, nobody had any qualms with him keeping his weapons on him in public. Usually, anything larger than a pistol or knife was to be confiscated, and returned upon leaving the Park. Or if you had a home, you could store said weapons there. Nobody was very comfortable with heavily armed strangers strolling through the middle of the town.

Silas' first stop was at the Hole. It was short for Hole in the Wall, and was the only official bar in town. It's owner, Willy, was a fairly underhanded person. He'd sell his mother for...well anything, really. It didn't matter. He was a businessmen, and like most barkeeps, they were only interested in money, and their own power. Silas tried his best to keep him in line, but he knew that the man had his hands in things that he didn't have any control of.

Silas walked into the two story bar. Unlike most bars, it was only a bar, and not an inn, where one can rent a room for the night. James flashed Silas a grin as he cleaned off a glass. He wasn't a bad kid, and just wanted to make a living. Silas wouldn't condemn him for that. He walked up to James, and put down a small pouch of caps. "Scotch. Whole bottle." James almost asked Silas why he wasn't ordering the usual whiskey, but thought better of it.

"Seventy-five caps." James said, eyeing the pouch.

"I know." Silas said, keeping his voice low. It didn't matter what Silas' reputation was, or what people thought of him. He tried not to draw attention to himself, and was damned good at it. Silas was of an average height, five ten, maybe five nine. Average weight. Far above average strength, agility, and perception. Not the best at persuading people or the like. Black, short, scraggly hair. Green eyes. Clean shaven. Not the most attention drawing person.

"James." Silas said, again in the low voice. "Any of my men here?" James knew what he meant. The men and woman who worked for Silas occasionally went to the Hole for drinks.

"Upstairs. Jacob and Grimm for sure, maybe Kylar." Silas nodded his thanks, and placed another few caps on the counter before heading for the stairs. The various nameless mercenaries, hired as guards, looked at Silas with mixed emotions. Some with fear, or anxiety, because if he went hostile, they might not be able to stop him. Some with contempt, because he was the head of his own band, or he'd turned them away when they asked to join. He didn't care.

Silas reached the top of the stairs, and headed for the men of his band. Jacob and Grimm were indeed there, thoroughly engaged in some argument of some kind. Silas didn't see Kylar for a split-second, and then found him. He was in the corner seat, in the shadow. His arms were folded across his torso as he silently listened to the two. As Silas approached, Grimm and Jacob still hadn't spotted him. Kylar had.

"Afternoon." He muttered, not bothering to look up. Silas didn't take this as a sign of disrespect, or insubordination. He and Kylar were equals, and they both knew it. In some this would spark a rivalry for the the ages, but between Silas and Kylar, it was the start of brotherhood. If one didn't have previous knowledge of Silas and Kylar, they could easily be mistaken for siblings.

Jacob and Grimm looked up suddenly from each other, and nodded their hellos to Silas. "Hey chief." Jacob smiled broadly, and beckoned him over to the table.

"How are you smooth-skin?" Grimm asked in his rasping voice. Silas did walk over and sit down.

"Fine. Thing could be better." He meant the words honestly. He wanted to fix the problems in the Park, but needed to keep his word. Breaking one's word was taboo to Silas, and if he left a single bandit alive, or uncaptured, then it would be broken. "Anything happen while I was gone?" It had been two days ago that Silas had gotten the contract, but he'd recieved it from a messenger while in Rockshore, to the North. He'd been working a contract for almost two weeks when he'd finally finished.

Grimm shook his head. He was intelligence. Anything that happened, almost anywhere, Grimm would know. He had eyes and ears everywhere. "Nothing too important. I'm assuming you took out the bandits, and you haven't been asked for just yet. Jacob escorted a caravan to Ripps last week, and I hunted down a theif." He shrugged. "Like I said. Nothing important."

Silas nodded. "Thanks." He pulled the bottle of scotch out of his duster, and placed it on the table. "Kylar?" He poured the drinks.

"Sure." Kylar straightened himself, and cleared his throat. The room turned quiet. Kylar made toasts, and they were always stirring, if in a chilling way. Kylar began to speak, and the rest of the bar fell into silence. He spoke without pause, and even though the speech lasted around fifteen seconds, it seemed like hours. "Licet, quot vis, vivendo vincere secla. Mors æterna tamen, nihilominus illa manebit." With that, he raised his glass. "To the dead." Everyone who had anything to drink drained it. It was an unspoken ritual. You don't talk about it, you don't ask about it, you don't think about it. It just happens.

At least, that applied to the citizens. Grimm, Jacob, Sam, and even though Silas didn't ask, they were all curious about what the fuck the speech meant. "Seriously." Jacob began. "You've said the speech hundreds of times, and all that I can understand is that it's gibberish, and that I only get that it honors the dead." Kylar shrugged, and Jacob went on. "Come on. At least tell me what language it is." This was a new one. Kylar thought for a moment, and relented.

"Latin."

Silas grinned, and Jacob and Grimm both groaned. "Because that's so helpful." Grimm muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you so much." Jacob nodded in agreement.

"I'm so lost."

Kylar cracked a grin, and shook his head. "You guys are useless. I'd rather have a crippled bloatfly to be my partner than you two." Jacob and Grimm both rolled their eyes.

"Right." Grimm said slowly.

"I dunno Grimm. Bloatflies can get pretty nasty when cornered." Jacob said mockingly. Kylar glanced at him, and they exchanged a short laugh.

Grimm sighed deeply. "I'm going to bed." He said. "I know where this is going." He got up, and headed for the stairs. He opened the door, and left.

Kylar glanced at Silas. "Huh." He said. "Now what I expected."

Grimm's head popped back through the door. "Fuckups." The door closed again.

"Fuck!" The two swore in unison. Silas just laughed. The three had these fights all the time. In this kind of world, laughter actually was the best medicine. Mentally. He leaned back in his chair, and drifted in and out of conversation with the two men. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Why not relax while he could?

...

Wow. Been a while. Someone, can't remember who, posted recently that I used to have a torrent of updates and chapters, and now I update rarely, if at all. That got me sad. So I sat down, and in forty minutes printed out this motherfucker. I hope that I'll have the next chapter out sooner this time.
Was listening to Agent Tex the whole time while writing this. Found my muse. Peace.