Disclaimer – I don't own Fallout 3 or any of its extensive, insane or confusing content.

Chapter 18

The man in Kylar's old house was relaxing, sipping peacefully from a bottle of aged scotch. He was in a nice place, he thought. With nice food, nice people, and nice company. He chuckled. Myself.

His red suit was tattered, and his bowler was starting to wear thin, but he kept them. They were him, after all.

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Kylar's vision blurred. Adrenaline began pumping through his veins. His ears heard his own heart bleeding. Another one. Kylar's thoughts were foreign. Conscious thought was beyond his comprehension. There are fucking more of them.

There is something in adrenaline, Cortisol, which helps the average human being cope with stress, maintain blood sugar level, aid the immune system, and help control blood pressure. While the last two thing are unimportant, the first is. Remaining calm while in times of danger or stress is a vital asses to any person.

It was once known in the pre-war world that adrenaline dilated your pupils. The result of this is enhanced eyesight. When your pupils dilate, the muscles in your iris contract to allow the pupil to expand, or dilate, allowing you to take in more information, although the degree of information depends on the amount of light.

There is always light during the day in the Capital Wasteland.

It is common knowledge that while under the effects of adrenaline, or being in an 'adrenaline rush', one moves quicker, thinks quicker, acts quicker, and feels less, if any, pain.

There is a pre-war tale of a tribal, wandering the plains of Africa. He was mauled by a lion. He survived, obviously, and his tribe saved his life. Later, recounting the tale, he said that he '…felt no pain whatsoever, that time seemed slowed, as if crawling through the sand. That he was detached, and that instead of feeling like a participant, felt more like an observer.'

This is because that when he was rushed by the lion, he needed to survive. It is an instinct. Pain distorts the mind and rational thought, so it is blocked out to make necessary decisions.

You react and think faster, because if the man had not, he would not have been able to bring his spear to where the lion's chest was going to be.

These things were lost on Kylar. The adrenaline pumping through his veins tore thought from his mind, and reason from his heart. Key. He felt his pockets, and pulled it out.

He still had it.

He turned the corner upon reaching the top of the hill, and again. He slammed to a stop at the railing. Panting, more from anxiety and fury than anything else, he jammed the key into the lock, and twisted. The door opened.

Kylar stalked inside, knife already in his hand. A figure looked up from a chair, and jumped to his feet. "Who are you?" He demanded. They both knew it was a tired line, and that is was pathetically under-dramatic, but it worked.

"Kylar Whitlock. And you're a Phantom." Kylar spat. He twirled the knife. "And a corpse." He lunged at the man, and drew his machete, which was as Simms described it, short, with a weird curve at the end. The swords I knew all too well.

"Used to be. Not anymore." He said, deflecting the attack. "Just as bad." Kylar said, circling the man. They were by the locker now. "How in hell do you even know about us?"

"I was a hit. Ridgefield. You in on it? Are there more of you? What do you know, tell me what you know." Kylar snarled, his knife hand twitching with anticipation.

"Ridge- were? No, I wasn't in on it, no there aren't anymore of us, now get the hell out of my house." His voice reminded Kylar of a scavenger he met, a long time ago. That was their only similarity. The scavenger was an honest man. Kylar said this. He watched the phantom frond, and he grinned.

"I told you, I'm not a Phantom anymore." The man said, backing up.

"Ex is just as bad as is. No chance." The Phantom was now up against the wall between the workbench and the locker. "Look. I know I did some shit. I'll never get over that, or be forgiven. But just, chill man. Take it easy."

"Look, I know people, alright? You want something, you got it." Kylar's lips pulled back in disgust. He was trying to buy his life. The Phantom took a step forwards. "You want money, fine. You want guns, fine. You want a nice place to live, it's yours. You want women, they're y-hunhh!!"

Kylar roared, and tackled the man, taking back against the wall. Something was off though, and both of them knew it, although while the Phantom was terrified, Kylar was indifferent.

The sheet metal of the wall gave in, and they fell the ten feet to the top of the Brass Lantern, and broke through it's roof, slamming both of them onto the floor of the bar and eatery.

It's been months since I wrote chapter 18, or chapter 31 if you count season one. *yawns* It's been a while. If you thought that I wasn't writing because of what I said last chapter, then you're mistaken. Lost interest, and lost enthusiasm.

Truthfully, I haven't even been to the site for almost three weeks. I decided to check in, make sure if people were still reading my work, even this one. They were. I was surprised, even shocked. Every day, people kept reading The Survivors. It made me happy that so many people could be interested in what I wrote.

On a whim, I checked out the reviews. I read them all. Since the very first;

Distinction Dave –

Yeah, enjoyed reading actually. Seemed well written and I'm impressed with the overall flow, I'll keep my eye out for any further updates.

There are a few spelling and grammatical errors but overall it's well polished. The one criticism I'd make (and I always make criticisms :-D) is that it actually feels quite rushed. I'd take your time with a story like this, don't be afraid to lengthen it a little. Also might be a good idea to differentiate between the two characters because right now they seem very similar.

Anyway, good start, keep writing and I'll keep reading!

To the most recent;

Mike Bent Tone –

love it.

And all the others in between. Just so you know, I copy/pasted these. There's no editing. I read all of your reviews, and it made me smile. "Fuck it." I said aloud. Fifteen seconds later, I'd opened word and gladly reopened my heart to Kylar and company. I said to myself, and I quote, "I'll finish the damn thing if it takes years."

And I'm going to keep true to that. I'm a man of my word. So, to all of you out there that read The Survivors, know this. At least once a week, a new chapter will come out. For whichever fic that I'm working on, I don't know, but one chapter at the least will be brought to the public eyes. At least. So enjoy, my friends! And continue to read.

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Frost