Fallout: Silent Struggles

by DeshLune

It is never easy being kicked from your Vault, but how about adapting to a new world? Struggles fall upon all when you are faced with adversity, over-coming them is challenging. And adapting to the peculiarities are going to either build or break a character. Follow Muna as she explores the Capital Wasteland. Update: Has been changed to an M rating, just in case.

22. Chapter Twenty-One - Black

Chapter Twenty-One: Black

Before we could take any sort of action, we watched as a mercenary carrying a large weapon knelt down and a loud pop-hiss rang through the valley. The projectile slapped across the surface of the compound's outer wall and erupted in a plume of smoke and debris. The space rippled, and the ground trembled; even from a distance, the explosion, like a cantankerous old man, screamed to life. Just like that, the wall that was there one moment was gone the next.

"Fuck!" An exasperated Blake shouted. Without another word, he tore down the hill as fast as his legs would let him. Gone was his composure. He felt he had to do something and he had to do it sooner rather than later.

"Wait!" Addison cried out, reaching her arm after him. But she likely knew she couldn't keep up, as she only took a single step forward. Her plea, however, fell on deaf ears; as he didn't slow as he raced through the camp shooting at whoever got in his way, and he didn't even wait to confirm if a shot landed.

I cast a side-long glance to Anton and gestured behind us, much lower down the hill. He quickly understood, and set a hand on her shoulder, "You should wait down there, Miss."

I crouched and steadied my hunting rifle, lined up a shot on a mercenary aiming at Blake's back and pulled the trigger. The shot dinged off the mercenary's helmet and ripped through one of the nearby tent walls. I grit my teeth as I loaded the next shot.

Addison, for her part, smacked away Anton's hand. Her tone held much of her anger, or perhaps it would be helplessness at her inability to affect the situation. "I am not a child, I don't need your care! He needs us!"

I fired a second shot and watched as blood spattered from the mercenary's neck just before he could take a shot at Blake. Anton sighed, "I know you're not a child. I wouldn't dare call you one, Miss. However, it's dan–"

"I don't care! Blake needs us!" Her voice had become raw just from that. She was desperate and couldn't think of any way to help and it was showing.

As I saw some mercenaries notice us, however, I could do the only thing that made sense. Their weapons trained on the hill and several opened fire right away, despite not having any clear target. I drew a deep breath, shot once more, and then exhaled. As the air left my lungs, I stood and whirled on the spot. My palm found Addison's cheek and the sound of the impact snapped through the air.

Both Addison and Anton were awestruck, unable to find any sort of response. Addison, eyes wide, brought a hand to her cheek, and I stepped in and gave her a tight hug. I could hear the roaring of Kyle's rifle behind me as he was laying coverfire, and seconds later Anton's rifle joined it. I released her once a few seconds elapsed and stepped back, pointed somewhat down the hill, and gave her a stern look.

A shudder ran up her spine and I saw a flash of fear and panic twinkle in her eyes. But with my unrelenting stare boring a hole into her, she relented and tramped down the hill to where it was safer. I didn't see what she did after, as my attention returned back to the other side of the hill.

With my focus back toward the enemies, I dropped prone and peeked my hunting rifle over so I could get some clear shots. As before, I took a deep breath, lined a shot, and struck a mercenary in his stupid face, and then exhaled. I repeated another shot just as a few of the enemy bullets splattered against the dirt before me, peppering me in pebbles and dirt. I shook my head to try and clear as much as I could, set up another shot, and pulled the trigger once more; the shot ricocheted off a mercenary's helmet and smacked right against a bag.

The bag was evidently filled with explosives as seconds later it erupted in a horrifying display of firepower. Shouts filled the air and the mercenaries began to scatter, some putting out the fire which started, while others lay covering fire toward us. I managed to catch a glimpse as Blake cleared the wall and made it inside the compound. I smirked as much as I felt I could afford. Our initial job was complete, now to do some cleanup.

I reloaded and then caught sight deeper within the camp as even more mercenaries began to move about, as if they were bees swarming upon a foe. The mercenaries formed multiple groups, each person lightly spread out to prevent any sort of explosive from taking any meaningful amount, and began to march through their base; some moving toward our position while some moved toward the breach in the wall. Many of them found cover and took shots or moved closer when they thought they were clear. It was then that I stole a gander upon my Pip-Boy's compass, and my eyes remained glued to the screen for longer than I would have liked. It felt unfair. I saw a sea of red tags.

Well, shit.

We had to find some means of dealing with the ridiculous amounts of mercenaries, either as they poured in or find a means to take them all out at once. But what could we use? Nothing came to mind. Which meant we had to do it the hard way – the long way.

I scanned the battleground and searched for anything I might get some use out of; tents, crates, bags, fires, et cetera. But nothing looked worthwhile. But then a thought occupied the central point of my mind, taking the lead in the song and dance. We'd have to split up and work our way through as best we could.

Therefore, I took a few shots as I formulated the plan. Each shot landed against something, but I neither had the wherewithal nor the time it'd take to properly observe the impact. As soon as I ran through the magazine, I let it drop and plopped another right in. It was then that I pulled out a piece of paper and hastily scribbled a plan onto the parchment.

The moment I was done, I crinkled it up and chucked it at Kyle, who was closest. He was initially confused, but after unfurling the object and reading what was on it, he nodded and tossed it toward Anton. Without waiting for any sort of response, I did what could only be called reckless: I broke from cover and proceeded down the hill, rushing for the next bit of cover. By this point, I had traded the rifle for my pistol, just for the quicker turnover rate.

Bullets splattered against the dirt and rocks around me, hailing me with debris. Several even found their mark and thumped me in the chest or limbs, but my chest was protected much better now – and, luckily, my limbs were only grazed. I'd live through this. I could take it. Frankly, the cuts hardly slowed me down at all.

My eyes widened in surprise as a small, hard object thumped against the ground beside me, and I tripped over my feet due to the immediate distraction. I tumbled and began rolling, head over heels down the hill until I smashed against a crate. My posterior handing in the air and my legs dangling above my face. Then, in my upside down world, I watched as flames licked the earth I'd been moments before and shrapnel rained down before me. I'd escaped by pure chance.

I hauled myself upright before anything else could happen and quickly found a target to the east, who was readily taking aim himself. I rained bullets into him until he dropped and then focused on the next target. Just as my head ducked below cover once more, something dinged across the top of the crate and I heard metal rending against the impact. I popped up once more and saw a sniper only a couple dozen yards away. It was amazing that he missed.

The sniper was finished loading the next round, and I just barely plopped back down before I heard the ring of the shot. It crashed against the hill, and I jumped back up and emptied my pistol into him. A few of my shots landed and I had just enough time to duck back down. Something told me if I let that land against me, I'd be a goner – or in for a very bad time. As I heard another thunderous roar of the rifle, I popped back up and was about to empty the freshly loaded pistol into him; but then I noticed a second one right beside him, and the grin on either of their stupid faces.

They got me!

I couldn't stop the grimace as I ducked toward the side and felt something graze my arm. What felt like flames licked through my limb, and my body screamed in pain. I gritted my teeth, took aim from my prone position on the ground and loosed the entire magazine into the two snipers, both much closer than they were a moment ago. They didn't have time to react and dropped, hopefully dead.

I couldn't reload well like this, so I stashed the pistol in my bag as best I could and crawled toward the closest weapon I saw. In this case, it ended up being an assault rifle. I pried the dead merc's fingers from the handle and picked it up, my Pip-Boy immediately notified me of the weapon, but I dismissed it out of hand. Using an elbow, I pushed myself up and forced my stinging arm to steady the rifle. I picked a target nearby and pulled the trigger. I let the hail of bullets go until I saw the mercenary drop.

"Ha!" a warcry called out from behind, and as I turned I caught sight of a mercenary two yards away, charging straight toward me with a sword of some kind in hand. I wouldn't have enough time, at this distance, to turn the muzzle toward him. So I did the next best thing, I used the butt of the rifle to block his chop, and then kicked him where it hurt most. During the brief moment he was stunned, I reared back with the rifle and bashed the weapon against his head.

Even with that hit, he seemed to still be moving, but was knocked prone. I didn't relent as I brought the weapon down again and again until blood began to spray out and cover me, and an audible crackling filled the air. I immediately scanned the area for the next target and emptied the last few rounds into her. One of my rounds must have smashed into her, as she quickly dropped her weapon and disappeared behind cover, likely to apply some aid.

I rounded the tent I was in front of and found a mercenary reloading a large weapon, he was spooked when he saw me. I wasn't sure if it was the demented look in my eyes, the serene smile spread across my lips, or the blood covering me; but I knew that my heart was pounding and he was afraid of something.

Before he could react, I chucked the assault rifle in my hands and he ducked below the wild throw. But I had already begun to close the distance, drawing my knife as I pounced. He caught my wrist and attempted to kick me off, but I pushed off the ground and somehow flipped myself before he had the chance. Using the momentum, I dropped my back against his face. He cried out and his grip loosened, likely due to the shock of some crazed light-weight girl bodying him in the face.

I turned around as hastily as I could and pulled the knife up, but he had managed to right himself and intercepted; pushing my knife toward the ground and hopping to his feet. He wanted to play it safe, test me out. But he didn't get the chance, as another mercenary began to lay coverfire. I had no choice but to retreat, even as a few rounds tore through my clothes or dinged off my armor or even ate into my skin. I hide behind a large crate a small distance away.

I fished out a med-x and jammed it into my leg, and felt instant relief as the pain subsided. Then I stabbed myself with a stimpack and let the fluid wash through my system. I then clutched my knife and made a break for the tent, hoping to find some better cover. But right as I broke free, something popped and hissed, leaving a smoke trail as it passed right in front of me. It slammed into the ground a fair distance away and exploded. I was, once again, covered in more debris.

"Shit!" the merc cried out.

I'd have laughed if I could and I'm sure it'd have been closer to a squeal of glee. But I instead opted to jump over the crate and break for the merc with the large gun. He cursed a few more times and dropped his weapon and took on a defensive stance. I lunged at him, and as we both expected, he tried to counter. But I had been one step ahead; rearing back the knife and shooting my leg up and kicking him where it hurt. For some reason, he didn't expect it – or block it. The downside was that I had to pull back to really put my full weight behind the kick.

The other merc chuckled a heartless chuckle, and tried to take careful aim. But I used her ally as a shield, making sure she'd have a higher chance to hit him than me. It's a good thing I'm small. I shook my head of excess thought and swiped at the merc before me. Large gun tried his best, but with the pain still fresh in his mind he couldn't defend as well as he normally would. A few swipes managed to land clean.

"This girl's crazy," the other merc hollered, as if to draw more allies to their side.

I couldn't waste time. Yet, despite my best efforts, my left arm felt numb and I couldn't move it well. I was at a major disadvantage. As if having recovered, large guns ducked down, issuing an order, "Shoot her, damn it!"

I felt my heart plunge and my pulse hasten. My eyes grew wide and I dived toward large gun, even as a storm of bullets peppered the space I'd just been. Large gun was surprised when he saw my blade, but he didn't have much time to think about it as it pierced his eyeball and a scream filled the air. I pulled my knife free, and propped up his body to shield against the bullets.

I heard the other merc curse as she accidentally finished off her ally. That was cruel of me! I perished the thought, pulled out large gun's side arm, which hung on his belt, and took aim at the girl. By the time she realized I had a gun, it was too late. A few trigger pulls and the Chinese pistol filled her with lead. And at this distance, there was no reason I'd even need V.A.T.S. It was a clear shot. She didn't even have a chance to flee.

At that, I pushed the dead shield off me, and raced back toward the tent. I dove inside just before I heard shouts on the opposite side. I escaped successfully. But then the flap opened and I knew I was wrong. I hopped into V.A.T.S. and let the auto-target adjust my shot, before I dropped out and riddled the target with bullets. The moment I heard a click come from the gun, I threw it and raced for a new weapon.

The tent was compromised, so I ran out just as a barrage of bullets riddled it from two sides. A stray caught my right leg, but I brushed off the pain and kept running. Racing between tents and crates, I pushed my way closer toward the wall. Where I could see on my compass the main forces had been congregating. I had to deal with the bulk of the force, I couldn't let the others take on such danger.

My hands balled into fists as I watched the group prepare their supplies and then rush inside, all while I lay between a tent and a crate, likely hidden in the shadows. For whatever reason, I held myself back. As much as I wanted to rush out and attempt to take them all down, I knew that it wasn't what my friends wanted me to do anymore. They wanted me to rely on them more, right?

Which meant no matter what I wanted, I should abide by their wishes. Very well. I needed to take care of this without letting myself die or be put close to death. For starters, I needed a better grasp of the situation. My Pip-Boy's compass was a good starting place, it'd give me directional data. And as I scanned it, I found there were around thirty-five red blips. I opted to ignore the ones that were in the direction of the compound.

From that, I estimated their proper positions in the camp. Now that we were no longer on the hill, they knew we were lurking around the camp and had split into smaller groups. This called for a covert opt, a stealth mission, as it were. Instead of trying to draw all attention, it'd be best to lay traps or pick off targets. Frankly, I only had a single idea for a trap, but none of the supplies required.

This was going to get messy as a brawl or slugfest was all I had left. I frowned at the thought of getting covered in more blood. What was needed, however, was the usage of my arm. There was no way I'd win without it. At that, I fished around for another med-x and jammed it right into the shoulder. There was something relaxing about feeling all the pain wash away until it was a dull ache at best.

With a little effort, I could move my arm. It'd be slow, but it was usable now at least. I then snuck around until I found something neat: a bag full of fragmentation grenades. I cracked a smile and took a few, and moved the bag into the shadows where I could still find it. Once I was done, hiding it directly behind some other bag, I started snaking toward the nearest group.

They were chatting amongst themselves, their tones anxious and full of caution. They were on guard and actively searching for any movement. I watched from the shadows, huddled as small as could be; pulled out the first of the grenades and set it on the ground before me as I peeped from behind a pile of various supplies. I then took out two more. Pulling the pin on the first of two and tossed it. It held a graceful arc and plopped right at the feet of a merc. She cursed the moment she saw it and the group dispersed.

Several dived out of the way, but I pulled the pins and tossed my second and third grenades toward the further targets. Before the last could react, I rushed her down, drawing upon my knife once more. Without being able to process the situation, I slit her throat. She stared up at me, lying on her side, her eyes held fear and were searching for something. Meaning, perhaps? She tried to say something, but it only came up as a gurgle.

One after the next, the grenades all went off. The first shot debris everywhere. The other two sent screams into the air. I was splashed by more blood. I held a solemn expression as I stared at my work, my ears buzzed as the noise around me deafened. I didn't wait and took off back toward the bag, trying my best to not be spotted.

"Right there!" But, of course, I was spotted right away.

Bullets splattered around me as I booked it. Unluckily, I got nicked once more right on my inner-thigh. It was all I could do to keep upright. I managed to break their line of sight and moments later the firing stopped. They called out my position and heading, and I tried changing direction. Yet one managed to catch sight and got off a few shots, they missed but it was worrying.

My heart thundered in my chest as I stumbled and crashed. By the time I started rolling over, a merc was rounding the corner and pointing her weapon toward me. "Got you now." Before she could fire, however, she got filled with lead and crumbled as if she were a marionette with its strings cut.

A familiar voice whispered as a hand rested upon my back, offering support, "Hey, you okay?" I turned toward my apparent savior, Kyle, and he recoiled at my appearance. "Woah, you look like... you look the opposite of well." He gripped me under the arm, and pulled me up, "Let's get you somewhere else."

Once I was back on my feet, I shook my head and pushed his arm away. I had to keep going. I couldn't stop. I couldn't lose momentum. I pulled my bag around and dug out another stimpack, using it right away. Relief washed through my system, but I could still feel the pangs of pain. I stumbled forward, my legs trudged forward with great effort, as if I were walking through a bog with weights attached at my ankles, until I reached the fallen merc's weapon, where I picked it up and checked the condition. It could operate, it was good to go.

I looked back to see Kyle's pained expression. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't come to allow himself to speak or didn't have the words to express his thoughts. I gestured for him to bank right, and then proceeded left without any sort of acknowledgement. Whether he'd go or not, I couldn't say. So long as he makes it out of this in one piece, then, frankly, I don't think I cared.

I rounded the area and came face to face with two more mercenaries. I'll admit, there were a lot of these fellows. They were only a few yards out, clearly coming to check up on their friend, given their sprint. I hopped into V.A.T.S. and targeted the nearest one. With an eighty percent chance of landing, I released two barrages and watched as they made contact with his shoulder, chest, and the ground. Unluckily, the few rounds to his chest struck against his armor and failed to properly penetrate.

Their surprise allowed me to duck behind cover before retaliatory fire opened from the guy's friend. She called out asking for his status, and the moment I heard the weapon stop I took aim and fired at her as well. My shots were wild and free, landing against anything in the direction. Well, anything except the actual target. The gun had to be busted.

With one option left for such a defunct weapon, I did the only reasonable action; I planted my right foot, reared back, and hurled it at the mercenary's weapon. A loud clatter rang through the air, and without missing a beat I booked it in the opposite direction. While normally I'd have taken the initiative and struck it with melee, knife in hand, but I didn't have that chance. Not with two of them. I had to start playing this safer. All this ever growing amounts of damage was building up, and I couldn't let myself fall because my body gave out on me midway through.

So I ran on, looking for any sort of weapon I could use. That was when I came upon the motherload. A tent flap hung open and inside of it lay a big gun, like the one from earlier. I picked it up. It was heavy. Far heavier than I thought it could be. But I turned it over, carefully scrutinizing it, even as footfalls grew louder.

My Pip-Boy marked it as a missile launcher. From what I could tell, it only carried one bullet – or whatever it took. I hopped out of the tent, took aim, and fired at the two mercenaries creeping up on me. Their eyes shot as wide as a fist when they saw what was coming their way. I, on the other hand, was blown back by the recoil of the shot and found myself sprawled out on my back before I knew it.

The explosion rang out long before I could straighten myself out. I leaned up, planting a hand to the ground for support, and then pushed myself to my feet. The mercenaries weren't as lucky as me, simply getting knocked to the ground, it would appear the explosive shell made contact with either of the mercenaries, and their close proximity only brought both down. I was looking at some rather exploded bodies, if they could still be called that.

I tossed the spent weapon aside and checked on their weapons. Neither seemed to have gotten through well after their owners' deaths. I felt my shoulders slump for a moment, but shook the feeling – bottling it up for later. I had to get going, no telling when their help would arrive here. So, like that, I ran off once again.

When I made it a reasonable distance away, I tumbled to the ground. Allowing my legs to give out, but I braced myself for the fall as best I could. I gasped and heaved, drawing as much air as I could pull into my lungs. My heart pounded like a drummer with a crazy amount of inspiration and no sense of rhythm, it felt like it'd pop at any second. I knew I couldn't stay here, out in the open; so I summoned as much strength as I had left and kicked myself toward cover.

I remained hidden, resting for a while; though, I didn't keep track of the time. Despite my fatigue, I kept myself awake. I couldn't sleep here. I needed a breather, but no sleep. Sleep would likely be detrimental at this point.

When I finally felt my heart and breathing had returned to a normal level, I crawled out of my hiding space and listened to the surroundings; a few gun shots, but altogether eerily silent. As if it were the calm before the storm. I felt my heart skip a beat, yet it didn't feel all that upsetting; rather, I could tell that some part of me was looking forward to the storm.

"We got one surrounded, let's go!"

I wasn't sure if it was a trap, but I had nary a moment to think as my feet kicked off and I found myself in a sprint toward the voice. By the time I arrived, I found several mercenaries closing in on Kyle, who was hunched behind a makeshift barrier. He was pinned, unable to fight back. He saw me, even from a distance, and I thought I saw something flash across his face, but from this distance I couldn't quite make it out.

He sprung up, targeted someone, and fired a few rounds. But before he could reach cover he got caught and tumbled over. His back thumped against his cover and he slid back down, he wasn't moving and from this distance I couldn't even tell if he was still breathing.

Something snapped within me. I felt the tumultuous storm raging within as if a string had been cut. In my last waves of desperately clinging to calm and rational, I recognized the feeling – bloodthirst and rage. I tried to do what I could to mitigate the loss; dropping my bag, fishing out my last med-x, another stimpack, and the only bottle of vodka.

I used up both of the drugs, and popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig. Then another, and another. It, of course, only fueled my delirium, and I pulled out my pistol – it wasn't a 10mm. This gun of mine – this .44 magnum revolver – was a truly scary weapon, it could bisect a man or turn 'em into paste. It was truly revolting, from what I'd seen. Yet, here I was, drawing the damn thing.

I had just enough wherewithal to sling my bag back on, before I marched toward the clearing – toward Kyle. The moment I saw a mercenary, I lined up a shot and pulled the trigger, wasting not a breath. It all happens in a flash, but it couldn't have been that quick. Shot after shot, I didn't stop nor slow. I kept a steady gait, one that could be mistaken for a walk through a park.

Bang!

I needed to do better.

Bang!

Even better.

Bang!

Headshot.

Bang!

Shoulder – I had to do even better than that.

Bang!

Chest.

Bang!

Another one crumbled.

I blinked, and like the rain on a drought filled Summer, I calmed. My gun dropped from my hand, clattering against the ground. The thick scent of blood filled the air – it was nauseating. And then panic set in. I race to my fallen ally. He was still breathing. He ate a bullet to the gut. I couldn't tell what the damage might've been, but I fished out a stimpack and wasted no time spending it on him.

I pulled him into my arms, shifted his position, and then laid him down properly. From there, I checked for an exit wound but failed to find one. It had to be worse than I could have imagined. Thinking fast, I recalled the bottle of vodka. I raced back for it, practically tripping as I scurried for the bottle, and then returned back to my friend.

I brought out a few supplies and laid them atop my bag. I started by washing the blood off my left hand using one of my bottles of irradiated water – my Geiger counter clicked a couple times in protest – and then poured a good amount of the vodka after that. With my hand as clean as I could make it, I hesitated for a moment before pushing my fingers into the open wound. As carefully as I could, I dug for the bullet. Things didn't feel good and more and more blood gushed out of the wound.

When I finally found it, I carefully latched onto it and withdrew my fingers. I then poured the last of the vodka onto his wound, and then applied a cleanish cloth to the wound. While applying pressure, I jammed another stimpack into his gut. From there, I tied the cloth so that pressure would be applied to it non-stop. It was the best I could do with my limited knowledge and equipment.

After collecting my things, I hid Kyle below his own barrier, as if he were a corpse. At least this way he'd be safe. I grabbed the cursed pistol, dropped it in my bag, and then grabbed a few of the dead mercenary weapons. This time, however, I checked their things and acquired a few stimpacks and some more ammunition for my various weapons (not much however).

It dawned on me, and I checked my compass. Not counting the direction of the compound, I counted three reds, and I could spot two greens. I knew the position of one of the greens, as it's obviously Kyle. So I made for the other, hoping to meet back up with whoever it was and confer about what to do moving forward.

So, once again, I was running through their camp, looking for any sort of movement, but with my eyes darting between my direction and my compass I was fairly safe. After a few minutes, I arrived at the green. I came to a stop and looked to the person before me, and my eyes fell upon a beauty with eyes wide, like a doe before headlights – Addison.

She looked relieved when she realized who I was. I could see the visible shift as her shoulders relaxed; however, if I were an enemy, I wonder what she had planned. "You look... unwell." Addison sighed at my wry smile.

Looking around, I didn't spot Anton. Weird. He was supposed to be protecting her. As if noticing this, Addison offered up an explanation, "There didn't seem to be too many left, so I told him that we should separate." But why did she come into camp? "And I couldn't just sit idly by, not after several explosions went off. I had to make sure all of you were well..." Oh. She fixed me with a thoughtful stare and then added, "Seems that was the right call."

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a medic's kit. When did she have that? Did she always have it? "Come here, I'll patch you up as best I can." I fixed her an inquisitive gander, but she brushed it off with a wave of the hand and reiterated her call. Relenting, I stepped closer and let her take a look at me. Following any strange requests she might have to get through the procedure. By the end of it, I had a multitude of bandages wrapped and covering various cuts and scrapes.

She looked awfully pleased with herself when she announced that she had finished, and I let out my held breath, one which I knew I was holding (this time, at least). Addison is about to add something else, but I feel a lurch in my stomach – as if something is completely and utterly out of place – and hold out a hand to silence her. Naturally, she looked confused, but upon seeing my serious expression as I glanced around she relented and quieted.

It was quiet, eerily so. I swallowed the saliva that had built up in my mouth, but it only made the tension in the air more palpable. And then something deep within my bones told me to focus on the opposite side of the camp. It was thanks to that sixth sense-esk notion that I finally picked up on the curious wonder.

It was as if a great danger loomed to the northeast. Yet, oddly I felt a pull. An attraction toward that direction. As if I had to head that way. Almost as if whatever lay there was something I had to do. Frankly, I didn't want to ignore that sensation either. So with a quick meander of the eyes, I spotted a new weapon, a pool cue of all things, picked it up and headed to the northeast.

Before I could take more than three steps, something caught my sleeve. It wasn't forceful, but I found myself coming to a stop regardless. I took a glance behind my shoulder and found the taller woman standing behind me, her head bowed and her arm outstretched. "Why are you pushing yourself so much?" She released my sleeve, her arm dropped to her side, "I don't... I don't get it."

Why do I push myself? Isn't that easy to understand? I have to do it. If I don't, who will? I have my limits, sure, but that doesn't mean I can't push against them and try and do better – be better. If I want to keep my friends safe, then I have to strive and push myself beyond my limits. But how do I tell her that?

I got the sinking sensation that I shouldn't mention those thoughts. Instead, I opted to drop the pool cue, place my hands on her shoulders and look her in the eyes. But she tried to turn her head, as if something in her doesn't want to look. Is she afraid of something? Embarrassed? I couldn't tell what she was feeling. Yet, why does it frighten me? I reached out and grasped her chin, forcing her head to turn and look me in the eyes.

She was upset.

I found my breath getting caught in my throat, and before I had a chance to realize what was happening, I pulled her into a tight hug. One hand found the back of her head and tried to shift her head into cradling my shoulder, while the other gently ran along her back in as comforting a gesture as I could manage. And for the longest time, she just stood there, unmoving with her arms resting at her side. But then she hesitantly reached up and reciprocated the hug.

After about a minute, she lightly pushed me away and I relented, taking a step back, eyeing her with a halfcocked smile spread along my lips. Her eyes looked as if she regained some vigor, and she looked determined, "I'm going with you."

My eyes grew wide; I wanted to motion for her not to follow. Inform her that she could get hurt. But as I stared into her eyes, and she determinedly looked back, I found any resistance I could muster leave me. I slowly relented with a nod, and she appeared as if a wave of relief washed over her.

I bent down and picked up the pool cue once more, looked back at her as if I had to make sure she was certain. And when she nodded back, I gave a curt nod as a response. It seemed there wouldn't be any means of changing her mind. Not that I made any effort. Even the idea of trying to tempt her away made me feel like I was kicking a dog after stealing its bone. She was coming and I had to be okay with it.

I steeled myself and we marched toward the northeast, Addison followed a few paces behind and casted suspicious glances about. After a short while, we reached a large clearing with an even larger tent setup on the opposite side, the flap perched wide open allowing anyone to see inside. As if timed, a pair of mercenaries step out of the tent, rifles drawn and readied toward us; before they could act, however, a gruff voice called behind them, "Let them through."

Two, three seconds passed before the mercs lowered their weapons, eyes glaring toward us. A sheepish smirk crossed my lips and it took half a second to wipe off, before I was back to as emotionless an expression I could manage – but I'm certain it crossed more into a serious note than anything else. I took a quick glance back at my companion, and she was wracked with nerves. A total mess; she trembled and brought herself into a defensive stance, whether she realized she was doing any of it or not, I couldn't tell.

I drew a deep breath, stuck out my chest slightly and straightened my back. Pool cue in hand, I stepped forward, casually moving toward the tent, as if I were about to take a stroll through a garden. It isn't until I've taken a few steps that I heard Addison join me, her footfalls uneven and sounded off with clear hesitation. But something told me that she'd walk through the gates of Hell if that was the destination. She's a courageous woman after all.

The inside of the tent had four large, thin poles standing near the corners, and a fire blazed in the center, keeping it quite warm inside. The temperature was a radical difference, and I almost reflexively wiped my brow. A rounded table made of debris was set across the fire and sitting in the center is a muscular man with a long beard, cup in one hand and some sort of meat in his other. Juices dribbled down his chin mixing into his thick beard hairs.

His eyes were set in a permanent glare, looking us from top to bottom and a strange twinkle mixed into his eyes. It gave me the creeps, but I didn't know what it was. He licked his lips, cleaning off the juice and leaned back, like a king ready to deliver his missive. "So," he began, his voice deep and throaty, as if he downed an entire bottle of vodka in a single go, "You the bitch that's been killing my men?" His focus was entirely on me, and for only a moment he glanced at Addison as he added, "She obviously ain't good in a fight."

I shot his glare back, but when he smirked in response I felt my blood boil and found myself smirking as well. Addison, however, wasn't having any of it. Gathering her nerves, she took a few steps forward, still staying behind me, and inquired, "Why'd you let us through? You could have easily taken us out there. What exactly do you get out of this?"

"Woah there, slow down," his tone oozed with authority, as if he thought he was the biggest honcho. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Just her, your leader," he shot her another glare as he spoke.

Addison, despite herself, scoffed, "She's mute, she can't speak."

The bearded man's mouth hung open for a short second before he collected himself. He hummed in thought, then finally regarded me once more, "Well that's disappointing. And here I was just starting to like your spunk, girlie." He tapped a finger on the table, pondering something. His attention momentarily returned to Addison, "How does she normally communicate? Despite her... slovenly appearance, she appears far too smart to not have any sort of means."

Apparently taken aback, Addison answered, "She-She normally just writes."

"Is that so?" A grin spread across his lips and he leaned forward, "Well, lucky for the two of you, I happen to have some education. Not like most of the savages you find about. Like them 'raiders' as they self-styled themselves. Bah."

He wanted to open a discourse? Why? I was highly suspicious, but given he was willing to meet with us instead of immediately breaking into a death fight. I felt some obligation to respond. So I dropped the pool cue and shifted my bag around, barely cracking it open and pulling out my pencil and one of the books. Skimming through, I found it was my normal book, one with writing on nearly every page. But I found a response on one of the pages: Why?

"Why, what, girlie?" I found a clean spot near the back and scribbled a quick response, asking about what he wanted with us before flipping and showing off the page. "What I want, eh? Simple. Most of these bozos with me are useless. The blood covering you speaks well of your capabilities. Or recklessness," he eyed me for a moment, then continued, "Either way, you're bound to be far more useful to me than the rest of 'em."

He made a show of spreading out his arms, flexing his muscles some as he did so, and wore a smug expression, as if everything were going exactly as he wanted. "So, how 'bout it? Join me. Join us, the Talon Company. You'll have far more resources with us than bein' independent like ya are."

I knew my answer, but how would it go over? There was only one way to find out. I held up a page with one word on it. Short, simple, and sweetly to the point. Just how I liked discussions. Not the long, drawn-out discussion.

His fist crushed the metal cup in his hand, and his brows furrowed. Then he let out a deep sigh and chuckled. "Very well." He stood and reached around the back of the chair, pulled out a sledgehammer and reared back. His strike smashed the table in two and he just grinned at the result, "Guess you'll just have to die."

I threw the book and pencil in my hand toward the edge of the tent and swiped up the pool cue in a single motion, pointing one end toward the brute on the opposite side of the fire. The mercenaries near the opening pointed their weapons, but a quick hand from their boss caused them to lower their guns, "I'll teach these rugrats a lesson, boys. Stand down."

He was either very confident in his strength, or they'd interfere if he was losing. Of course, maybe he really was just that good. I was going to find out one way or the other. I felt an excited grin slowly creep across my lips, something about all this danger was pleasing. I'm not some thrill seeker, so why?

Brute didn't leave much time to dwell on thoughts, however, as he took a short running start and cleared the fire pit in a single leap. He landed with a thud and immediately came in swinging. The heavy hammer coursed through the air in a wide arc, I pushed Addison and managed to just duck below. But Brute didn't stop there, in a single fluid motion he went right into a kick, which connected with my ribs; sending me toppling over and out the tent.

I was seeing stars, but forced myself up. The world turned lopsided, but I swung the pool cue in my hand at one of my two targets and felt it eat air. As the world righted itself, I noticed something hastily coming down from above. I shifted back a few steps and heard it land with a mighty thud near my feet, it quickly shifted and the head smashed my gut. Toppling over once again, I was met with the fine handle smashing into my face.

Finding myself on a backfoot, I planted my feet and swung the pool cue. It thumped against the muscular brute before me. But with my paltry strength, especially in comparison to his, it was as if nothing happened. Mentally cursing, I blocked another swing of the phantastical sledgehammer and was knocked to my side. I barely had enough time to roll out of the way before it came crashing down.

"You just gonna get knocked around?" his voice carried his disappointment, there was no hiding it. His expectations were getting crushed. Yet, instead of continuing, he decided to wait. Holding off until I got back onto my feet.

Not missing the opportunity, I used a stimpack and hopped to my feet. In a fluid motion, tossing the pool cue and drawing my knife from my boot. I lowered myself, getting ready to engage once more. He cracked a grin, and I fixed him with a calm yet eager smile. It bordered on insanity to engage this guy, he easily outmatched me in strength and size; but I wasn't about to sit back while letting him do whatever he wanted.

We moved in at the same time, Brute with another wide arc swing and I stepped in close. Real close. Stepping under the swing and cutting at his heels. I could make out the sound of him adjusting his grip, and quickly hopped out of the handle strike that followed seconds later. Without losing pace, I immediately lunged back in and drove my knife into his thigh.

His hand came down from above and caught my wrist, I tried to yank it away but to no avail. With a single-handed thrust he brought the hammer head right into my gut once again. Yet, unlike the prior time, I was pulled into the attack by my caught hand. I twisted as much as I could, but found it only made things worse as I felt something give way during the strike.

A cough escaped from my lungs before I knew what was happening. The next thing I knew the world turned sideways and I was on the ground; my arm twisted in an almost odd angle and I was on my back. His foot rounded back up and came down hard on my leg. A crack filled the air. My vision blurred as I bit back tears. Yet, another cough escaped my lungs – this time with a tangy iron taste.

He pulled his foot up once more, it ran almost parallel to his body – a perfect example of an axe kick – and as he began to drive his foot down. A single noise filled the air. A loud pop. A crack. A bang. It could be described as any such descriptor. But it was clear what it was: a gunshot.

Brute's foot missed and smashed the ground next to me, his hand found his chest. Before anyone knew what had happened, another shot rang through the area. His head popped, blood spraying out. His grip on my wrist loosed, and he fell forward. Right over me, forcing another cough, along with all the air in my lungs.

I gasped, reaching for air but found only the lack of oxygen not filling my lungs. I smashed my fists against the Brute on top of me, but he wouldn't stir. He couldn't. He was dead, after all. But that didn't stop my attempts, nor would it prevent me from trying to find breath.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard more gunshots. I couldn't say where they originated, as I was far too intensely focused on getting oxygen pumping through my system. My vision was even beginning to blur and darken. As the darkness began to take me, something shifted the weight above me and I could faintly make out a stifled choking and a gasp; but it sounded like it was coming from miles away.

Seconds passed and I felt the weight lift off my chest, I inhaled deeply, drawing as much air in as I could. A sense of nausea washed through my system and I immediately turned my head and retched the contents of my stomach beside me. It had an odd dark coloration, but I could breathe again so I opted to ignore it for the time being.

By the time I finally had my senses, about as well as I could at that point, I saw Addison crouched above me. Splatters of blood covered her clothes, some even managing to find her face, but some was washed or running as tears flowed endlessly. With some pained effort, I studied my surroundings and found that the two other mercs were dead.

Did the pacifist kill them? No wonder she looked so shaken. I pushed myself to a sitting position, ignoring all the pain coursing through my system in what felt like trillions of pin pricks converging across my nerves all at once. I couldn't help but grimace, it was all I could do to keep myself from falling back down. I coughed once more as I supported myself on my elbows, and I watched as more blood splattered across my armor and lap.

Addison looked like she was shaking. Was it out of fright or worry? I couldn't say. I reached over, continuing to ignore all the pain, and wrapped her in a tight embrace. The darkness began to creep back through my vision, like the grim reaper offering a sweet embrace. And like the sore, tired girl that my state represented, I thought about taking that embrace. But the darkness took me first.

My vision faded into nothing, perhaps my eyes closed at some point. My strength waned and my body grew cold, I shivered. Then the darkness crept one last time, and I felt the world spin and spin and then it fell away.

-Transmission Successfully Received-