3
Piper had spent the better part of the day creeping through Back Bay, Boston Commons, and the Financial District. Piper had no idea how she was still alive with the number of close calls she'd encountered in the last few hours. Falling debris from towers had nearly taken her twice, she'd tip-toed past the mutant-infested hive that was Trinity Tower, she'd avoided some terrible battle for the Boston Public Library, and a mutant hound had nearly sniffed her out while she was having lunch in the backseat of an old rusted-out Corvega. She had to leave her entire knapsack behind to scramble away from that one.
As she stood, staring down the steps of Park Central Station, her stomach growled. She went to pad it, her fingers resting on the box of ten-millimeter rounds she'd managed to swipe before the hound had made short work of her lunch… And dinner. Tomorrow's breakfast too, come to think of it- and Piper certainly was thinking about it. A little off to her right was the infamous Swan Lake; within it rested its horrible vanguard, who was ready to clobber to death any poor soul that had wandered in too loudly or too close. Before her, just down those steps, was undoubtedly the gaggle of goons that had seized Nick Valentine. Yet, somehow, Piper's major concern at this moment was food.
The rain hadn't let up. Piper was thankful for her leather coat, but that didn't mean she wasn't soaked frozen to the bone. "Hope you're enjoying those noodles you big green mutt…" Piper grimaced as she raised her pistol, racking a fresh round into its chamber. She inhaled deeply, exhaled shakily, and descended.