Chapter 7: City of the Dead

Six's Log. October 2nd, 2289. Or uh, 1099, if you ask the locals.

Been a while since I made one of these. So… a lot has happened in the past few days. Some assholes stole that Big MT satellite from the Mojave wasteland and I set out to track it down. I traced its signal to some abandoned mine and… well, this is gonna sound like some crazy shit. I've seen my fair share but this takes the cake. The satellite was hooked up to this creepy-ass obelisk and some Pre-war tech. A firefight ensued between me and the thieves, but the bastards caused a chain reaction, and uh…

I think I got sent to another world. Another dimension or universe? Something along the lines of that. The people here call their home "Terra". Real original, I know. At first, I thought- I hoped- that I was just on some other part of Earth. But I was proven wrong after looking at the stars and constellations in the night sky. How the hell did Raiders build a gateway between fucking dimensions? My best guess is that they didn't.

Before shit hit the fan, I saw their leader speaking into a Pre-war radio. He had connections. Someone who likely had intel on Big MT and the knowledge to operate their tech. I'm one of the few to be privy about the Big Empty and its zany secrets. For someone else to have that kinda intel is… worrying. Big MT already produced some of the worst tech and abominations in the wasteland. The idea that someone wanted to harness any of it is giving me goosebumps.

I don't know who's behind this and I'm hesitant to trust any of the locals around here. From what I hear there's already a great deal of strife around here. There's probably a dozen secret cabals- a dozen Enclaves- slithering in the shadows as I speak. Anybody could be involved in the little conspiracy with the satellite. I don't know what the thieves were hoping to achieve with it, and frankly, it's killing me.

I hate being in the dark, not knowing anything. Being a know-nothing will get you killed back home, and that same rule might damn well apply here. I need to gather intel before I can even consider knocking down any doors. Gunpowder is non-existent here as far as I can tell, and I haven't found any of the main compounds to produce it. The only propellant they have is this weird material. I don't believe in magic, but right now I can't for the life of me decode the science behind it. The locals call it 'Originium', but it might as well be pixie dust. They can use it as gunpowder, for electronics, hell even cast fucking spells. Spells!

I'm out of my element here. If I don't adapt I'm dead. Simple as that. And if I can't go back home, I'm not sure if New Vegas can survive either. It's still a young nation and I was hardly a politician before I left. I'm just-

I'm fucking worried. Scared even. About the Mojave. About the floating brain jars at the Big Empty. About my friends… The only company I have with me is ED-E, and I already came close to losing him a few days ago. And to make matters worse, some of the locals have their eyes on my tech. If any of the local nations or their little Enclaves get their hands on it, they could reverse engineer it and destabilize their world. Maybe even tear itself apart as mine did.

I'm not going to let that happen. Not while I'm breathing.

I'm heading out to this mobile city, "Great Lungmen". Major trading center and my best lead on finding a connection with those thieves back home. A local installed an application that allows me to track the city's position. Yes, 'track'. This city is on fucking wheels. Shouldn't take too long to reach it either way. Just need to sacrifice some sleep time.

This is Courier number Six, signing off...

September 30th, 1099. 10 AM.

Rhodes Island headquarters, The Doctor's office.

Rhodes Island is known for being many things. A hospital, a bastion for the Infected, a pharmaceutical company, a private military (or at least, according to some conspiracy theorists). For many, it was just home. For one soul, in particular, it was two; her sanctuary and burden to shoulder.

Within an office sat a young Cautus girl with brown hair and sapphire eyes. Under normal circumstances, someone else claimed this desk as their own. But he was away on a mining expedition in Rim Billiton with some friends of theirs. In the meantime, she has assumed his position and office. Though admittedly most of it consisted of paperwork and cataloging. Not all that different from her own job, actually.

But she was rather lonely. She took a look outside her window at the wasteland beyond. Nobody had a clear-cut answer as to why it was the way it is today. Many blamed over-mining and stripping of the land. Some point to the Catastrophes as the main culprit. Many just shrugged and assumed it to be natural. Regardless of its origins, it was the same dusty void she had seen since her birth. And looking at it just amplified her sense of isolation.

The office phone rang. She tilted her head as she read the caller ID on its screen. That number belonged to Penguin Logistics. Why would they be calling now? She pressed a button and a holographic screen popped up above her desk. Within the image were four Operators; April, Exusiai, Croissant, and Suzuran. Leonhardt wasn't anywhere to be seen, though. She was a little worried.

"Oh, hiya Amiya," greeted Exusiai. "Is Leeduh there?"

"Good afternoon, Ms. Exusiai," Amiya replied with a smile. "I'm afraid that the Doctor isn't in today. He's away on a mission right now."

"Would he happen to be near Great Lungmen?" asked the angel. Something about her tone seemed off to the rabbit girl, though. She picked up a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Ms. Exusiai, did something happen today?" Amiya asked.

There was a nervous giggle from her. Amiya had an idea as to what the problem was.

"Did you happen to run across any mafia elements?" She added with a solicitous tone.

The team's camera shifted its focus to Suzuran.

"That's… one of the problems," the younger child confessed. "It's a complicated mess, Ms. Amiya. And a long story…"

October 2nd, 1099. 11 AM. Eastern Wastelands.

Six was sitting at a campfire as he closed his audio log. It had been several days since he had left Da Vinci, more so since he arrived in the new world. It was freezing right now but he wasn't surprised. He was used to the chills of the desert night and the scorching hot daylights. Annoyances but manageable at least.

He hadn't been on Terra for long and he was already getting homesick. Chowing down on one of Ruby's casseroles and some black coffee certainly didn't improve his mood either. Speaking of his mood, he was rather twitchy. He barely slept for the past few days, trying to put as much distance between Siracusa and himself. He didn't want to get caught by Aelius' gang or Penguin Logistics. What did the former call themselves? Lupi D'Acciaio? The former word brought 'Diablo' to mind in his head. Maybe it had a similar meaning or translation to it? He wouldn't be surprised.

He looked down at his rations. A couple of caravan lunches, another casserole, a container of Cook-Cook's stew, a wastelander's omelet, some trail mix, several bottles of water, a couple of thermos of black coffee, his Vault 13 canteen, and several MREs. He was gonna have to conserve as much as possible until he got to Great Lungsmen. Food he can hold off for a while. Clean water, however, was a greater concern for him.

Irradiated water he could handle. Originium-infested water, though... that was another animal entirely if his understanding of Oripathy was correct. It'll be hard to find a water source free of the magical ore in this world's wastes.

Six's eyelids began to droop off some but he fought to keep them up. He looked down at his Pipboy and booted up his STATS. Sleep Depravity was in the 400's. Hunger was at 150. Dehydration at 500. Six quickly gulped down a whole bottle of water when he saw the last statistic. It went down to 350. He sighed. That should be enough for the next couple of days. But he still needed to be at the top of his game. He can't let his guard down.

He looked at the map portion of the Pipboy. He expected it to be blank, considering who designed it. But no, it had already written one up. Or rather, it already had one programmed into it. Six smirked.

Hoover. Six thought to himself. One hell of a perfectionist. Rest in peace, old man.

Now he has a clear layout of the world. Or rather, the continent. Six raised an eyebrow. These people hadn't explored the world beyond yet. Why? What was keeping them on this one? His ancestors had to cross an ocean and wade storms, sure, but they endured. Succeeded. His world had seven continents (Or was it six these days? Antarctica probably melted by now for all he knew).

He shook his head. He can worry about the details later. Right now he needs a real roof over his head. He didn't feel comfortable sleeping out in the open with gangs and magic storms prowling about. His Pipboy was picking up a signal, though. He went to the RADIO tab and selected it. There was a single station; Chernoberg. It sounded like the name of a settlement.

Six clicked on the tab and were met with music. It sounded like an anthem to him or at least something from a parade. What surprised him was the language it was sung in; Russian. Not English or anything vaguely Asian. Russian. A tap on the screen pinpointed it to the north. It was on the border between Lungsmen's turf and some Empire. Yes, the Empire of Ursus.

Six placed a hand on his chin. Was the Empire this world's equivalent to the Soviet Union? From what history books survived the nuclear apocalypse, they were described as a ruthless nation with a history of strife. More vicious than even Caesar's Legion. Croissant's brief exposition of the Empire implied similar patterns and behaviors.

He looked at ED-E, contemplating his next move. If there's a settlement nearby, he can do some trading and restock on supplies. Maybe even gather intel and a faster means of getting to Great Lungsmen. But he'll have to watch what he says up there. The US and Russia fought a Cold War with one another if his history books were telling the truth. A conflict fought through proxy wars and espionage. He'll have to watch his words and his back.

With his mind made up, Six ordered ED-E back into the car and revved up the engine. Just before they sped off, Six took out a holotape and popped it in. It was an album he purchased years ago, from the Commonwealth of Virginia if the trader was telling the truth.

And the first song to play was Dion's The Wanderer.

ED-E began swishing around left and right in the backseat. Six guessed that it was an Eyebot's equivalent to dancing. He wouldn't admit it out loud but it was kinda adorable. His Divide counterpart's personality had been seeping deeper into the primary unit's core for the past few years now. It certainly gave the robot much more personality. Maybe more than its operator right now.

An hour passed before they saw their quarry. To their surprise, it was another mobile city. This one's design was more modern if the buildings' design and height were any indication. Something about it unnerved the Courier though. Something felt off. The buildings looked more worn down than Da Vinci. And there was some giant spike sticking out.

Something burst from the road up ahead. Six barely had time to swerve around it and crashed the car into some rubble. The airbag erupted from the wheel and rammed into Six, shielding him from the impact. Glass slashed against his riot armor and ED-E, shredding the bag to pieces. Six growled and stepped out of the car, with the Eyebot following suit. And they were met with an unpleasant surprise.

Several arthropods- maybe crustaceans?- in a metallic exoskeleton were scuttling towards them. Six drew A Light Shining in Darkness and fired a bullet at one of them. It bounced off the shell without leaving so much as a dent.

"Bulletproof crabs," Six hissed. "I hate this world already."

Six switched to .45 Auto P and fired again. This time it broke through the armor and earned a hiss from the creature. He smiled and kept on firing. The first one finally collapsed from a hefty overdose of lead. The others noticed this and burrowed underground. Six kept his guard up.

A claw burst from underneath him and grabbed a boot, trying to pull him under. The courier retaliated with bullets, severing the offending claw. The owner popped up not far behind him but was struck by ED-E's zapper. The Metal Crab screeched as the exoskeleton heated up and boiled its wearer. The Eyebot spun around and superheated another that tried to sneak up on them.

Six chuckled. "Looks like they can't take the heat," he said.

More tried to slice through Six's armor but it held up. They were actually lighter than he expected, being easy to kick away. He picked up one and threw it at another, stunning them long enough for him to draw his Plasma Defender. He melted both of them with ease. He kicked at another, causing it to land on its back. He fired into the exposed underbelly with Light until it stopped twitching. He flipped another one over and stomped on it until its guts burst out. He didn't mind the mess that much. He could always wash it off later.

The remaining one- and the largest by far- was nowhere to be seen. Then Six looked back at the car and noticed a hulking mass of iron moving towards it.

"Oi," The Courier shouted. "That's my ri-"

He was too late. The crab rammed a pincer into the engine and the whole thing exploded. The creature and car were both blown to pieces. Six cursed his luck as reached the wreckage.

"Great," Six said sarcastically. "Just fucking great! Now we'll need to find another one."

Six sighed and took some breaths, trying to calm himself down. He looked back at the carcass of the monster responsible. Anger and frustration gave way to curiosity, and he took out his ripper. He began sawing through its armor and tissue, collecting fragments of both groups. ED-E emitted some curious beeps of his own.

Six sighed and looked back at the foreboding city. "Well, here's hoping we find a working car. Or at least the parts to build one. Come on ED-E."

ED-E chirped in acknowledgment and followed the Courier. The two spent the next hour trying to find an entrance. They eventually found something resembling a maintenance hatch and shot it open. A mummified corpse fell with the ladder, nearly hitting the Courier. It spooked the living hell out of him.

Already his brain was dancing on the line between reality and insanity. The organ was switching the body's attire between Bright Brotherhood robes and some maintenance overalls. It lasted for a few seconds before the latter outfit won and brought him back to the real world. Six knelt down and examined it.

[Medicine 60] This person has been dead for at least a year now, judging by the decay. The lack of crystals implied that they weren't Infected with Oripathy. But he did notice some open wounds and old brown stains on their clothes, though. The work of a blade. Someone murdered them.

Six holstered his guns and climbed up the ladder while ED-E hovered upwards. The two found themselves in a damp, dark tunnel. It was narrow and long, like some oversized pipe. Six flashed his Pipboy on to light the area up. Cobwebs and rust were baked into the environment around them. Nobody's been here for ages.

Six and ED-E took their time walking down these tunnels, occasionally stopping to collect scrap metal and electronics. He could always use some more weapon repair kits down the line. True ED-E had a workbench installed but he could only do so much on his own. Speaking of which, he needed to inspect his weapons when he had the chance. Some of them felt more worn than he personally liked lately.

Six's eyes were darting at every corner while ED-E kept constant vigil with his motion tracker. While Six's HUD picked up movement, none of it was marked with red rectangles. So far it seems as though it was hostile-free.

Six's shoulder slumped and he started to stumble. His eyelids were beginning to lose their strength. ED-E emitted a concerned beep.

"I'm fine," Six assured him. "The coffee's just starting to wear off."

Six looked at his Pipboy. "Critical Sleep Deprivation" was listed as one of his active effects. Six growled. Looks like karma was biting back at him after all. He was gonna need to find a place on the surface to rest at. And as luck would have it, there was another ladder nearby.

Six peeked out from under a manhole cover. He was looking at a torn streetway, covered in litter and wreckage. He moved it aside and climbed onto the surface, taking in the atmosphere. It was a ghost town, long abandoned judging from the wear and tear around him. Buildings were crumbling away while dust and garbage were blown away in the wind.

Then there were the skyscrapers. Dead giants impaled with Originium slabs, slowly crumbling away into dust. Some of them appear to be slanted or on the verge of falling over. Some slabs instead chose to burrow into the ground and grow into fucking mountains. They cast a long shadow over the city of Cheronberg and the Courier. His skin was crawling now. This all reeked of the Divide.

Some of the houses had some strange objects around them. Trinkets, rotting flower bouquets, remnants of candles, picture frames. Was this a memorial, or a vigil? He looked inside some of the buildings. He didn't see anybody (or bodies) in any of them. Some corpses were lying around in the street, though. While many of them possessed various animal features, the majority had Yao G- ...bear ears and tails.

Six began trekking along the road, Plasma Defender in hand. He inspected every car he came across, checking to see if each one was in good condition. Most of them weren't, and the very few that appeared fine lacked the keys to run them. He also helped himself to some loot he happened across. Scrap, LMDs. None of the snacks were as preserved as those of his homeworld, though.

He tried to piece together a story as he went about this business. The originum slabs pointed to what Croissant referred to as "Catastrophes". Naturally occurring phenomena that manifested as all sorts of destructive weather patterns. Earthquakes, storms, eruptions, tidal waves. Weren't there a group of couriers dedicated to combating these disasters? Maybe they arrived too late. The lack of police or military fortifications was curious though.

Then he came across a particular region. It had been bombarded with Originium meteorites but that wasn't what was bothering him. The real problem was all the snow and frost here. He had rarely seen any of it back on Earth, but its presence here seemed… unnatural to him. There were even some frozen bonfires from the looks of things. Frozen. Bonfires.He figured Arts could produce energy or manipulate matter but to fuck with physics? That was something beyond his comprehension.

Six approached one of the giant crystals and placed his hand on it. He instantly reeled it back when frost started forming around it.

[Perception 6] The crystals were the coldest parts of the area. They must be the source of the anomaly. Now that he thought about it, some of them had a cyan glow to them. There were some devices attached to some of them too. They gave the crystals the appearance of alters. Six and ED-E both moved out of the area as fast as they could. Both of them happened across another landmark, it too frozen in time.

It was a large building, at least a dozen stories high. Hardly a skyscraper, but large enough to be noticed. There was a symbol carved or burnt into it. An X with some stripes in its gaps. There were some white garbs blowing in the winds, along with various masks. The latter resembled something from some doll. There were all kinds of weapons lying around too. A battle had been fought here.

The duo trekked some more. The next major landmark popped up in the form of a… school? Six took out his travel guide and began translating the text on the sign. It read "Peterheim Middle School." Six had heard of 'high schools' from Doctor Borus. Those were for teenagers, right? Does that mean that this was home to preteens? Or did that only apply to the American education system? He also couldn't help but notice how few originium chunks were in the area. It must've weathered the Catastrophe pretty well. Might be a good place to hunker down for the night.

Six marched towards the entrance. There were more vigils, and they had far more stuff than the last ones. Portraits, picture frames, toys, sports gear, books, even weapons. Six inspected the last group of times, but he left them be. Partially out of respect for the dead and because he considered them to be subpar.

The doors weren't locked. That was a bit of a surprise. Sure the site was abandoned but still… something felt off. Wrong. He could feel it in his guts. Six shoved those thoughts aside and swung the doors wide open.

The first thing to greet him was dust. He had his riot helmet on so it didn't trigger any reaction in his body. But the stench… it wasn't like walking into some centuries-old ruin. It was still raw and fresh. The cold carefully preserved the dead, mummified them.

And most of them were children.

Six's eyes widened as he stepped back. He nearly tumbled down the stairs, but he regained his balance. The Courier spun around and looked back at the city. More bodies. More chil- ...students. Yes, students. They all had matching uniforms and color schemes on their bodies. Some of them were holding weapons. What the hell happened here?

Six looked back at the school interiors. ED-E chirped something of concern at him but he paid the Eyebot no mind. He just stepped in and closed the door. Now he and his only companion were alone with the dead. As much as he hated the scenery, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Something happened down here and he wanted to know what and why.

Six carefully stepped over the bodies, catching glimpses of their wounds. Blunt trauma, stabbing, cuts, strangling, makeshift arrows or bolts impaling them. They were all killed by someone. Some of them were still clenching weapons in their cold dead hands. Weapons with wear and brown stains. Some of their uniforms stood out from the rest, bearing different color schemes and designs.

They were fighting each other. Why? Resources maybe? But they could've just ventured outside for those. Either something kept them from doing so, or there was something worth fighting for here. Revenge? Glory? Some type of treasure? The more he examined the halls and classrooms, the more he noticed the difference in dress code. There were separate tribes or factions of students here. Something or someone forced other tribes into this place.

Then he made his way to the cafeteria. The area was littered with more bodies. But something seemed different. The uniforms seemed more elegant and expensive-looking. Veronica would've probably killed for some of their attire if she were here. Even their weapons had this intricate design to them. They seemed like aristocrats.

Six noticed a large cauldron in the back. It looked like a stereotypical witch's pot, fit for a Halloween party. There was something sticking out of it. The Courier walked over towards it and found a flayed body inside. Like the rest, the cold seemingly preserved it. It was difficult to tell the gender or sex of it, though. It was too mangled for an ID.

A pile of clothes lay neatly folded up on the counter, along with some belongings. Judging from the contents, they were once the janitor. One of the items was a key. Six reached for it and examined it. There was an intricate design on it and a number; 197. Six pocketed the keys.

Someone giggled in the distance. He looked to see a girl with bear ears running off into another room nearby. Maybe the pantries or some other food storage. Six chased after her. Once he caught up she turned to face him. There was something familiar about her. Her red hair, those atomic green eyes. He hadn't seen that face for at least a couple of years. It was his-

He felt a sudden change in temperature. Or rather, he hadn't registered any such thing until now. He dropped the child when she started claws and horns. Her face morphed into a Deathclaw and he started backpedaling. He bumped against something behind him, though. Something swung back at him and knocked him face-first into the ground. When he looked up, he nearly lost his lunch.

There, hanging in front of him, were bodies. Bodies that had been flayed, bodies that had been butchered. Pieces of the dead lay in coolers and boxes, bones exposed and snapped. There was a heart in a jewelry box on a shelf, next to a jar of seven smaller ones. There was even a brain in a salad bowl. An eyeball was partially being cut apart in an egg slicer.

It occurred to him that he was in the meat locker of the school. No, not just a meat locker. A cannibal's personal kitchen. One of the bodies morphed into a familiar face. She was scared, covered in severe burns but he recognized her anywhere.

Joana…

The woman craned her neck towards him. "Where were you, Six?" She hissed. "Where were you when they scorched my Carlitos to the bone?"

She broke free from her noose and landed on all fours like some animal. Six rose back onto his feet as she crawled towards him, ready to pounce. Logic was screaming that she wasn't real, that she couldn't hurt him. But some broken piece of his brain was telling him to run like hell. He ended up taking the latter part's advice and didn't dare to look back. He didn't know how long he was running, or where he was going. All he knew was that he wanted to get away from the meat locker. Away from the horror show. His brain didn't register anything else until he crashed into something. When he looked up he saw a charred door. The plaque on it was covered in ashes, but he quickly whipped it off.

Room 197

Six jammed the key into the lock and swung it open. All he saw were ashes and burnt furniture. At first, it appeared to be a classroom, judging from the chalkboard. But the way the tables were arranged… It looked more like a council than a classroom. There was a scorched flag of a two-headed bird with a star at the center at the other side of the room. He was getting a sense of deja vu for some reason. Must be the two heads.

Six shifted through the ashes for anything useful. Nothing. There were some books around, but all of them were damaged beyond legibility. He noticed a picture frame on the ground, not far from the flag. He reached down and picked it up.

It was heavily damaged, burnt like everything else here. But three faces had been spared from the ancient flames. One of them was a blond-haired girl with her tongue sticking out of her mouth. She seemed rather carefree and spirited. The second one was white-haired and wore glasses. She screamed "bookworm" to the Courier.

The final one-the one that stood out the most- towered the other two faces, and had long pearl-white hair. What was strange about her was that she had heterochromia. One red eye, one blue. What was even stranger was how mature she seemed. She looked more like a fully grown woman than a kid. Her clothes were far sharper than her peers too. Maybe she got held back or something? Or maybe bearfolk age at different rates than regular humans?

[Perception 7] Six felt a cold draft somewhere. He looked to see a burnt bookcase. It seemed rather hollow in comparison to the rest present. Six placed his hand at the edges and felt a breeze coming from it.

[Strength 8] Even in its crispy state, it was surprisingly sturdy. It took some effort to tear it down, but he prevailed. He smiled as he admired his handiwork.

Cybernetics for the win. He thought to himself.

Six inspected the hidden room. It was a tunnel, one scorched to the bone. Crates and empty bottles littered the hall, either burnt or frozen in ice. Six walked down it, noticing the dried blood and graffiti marks. At last, he found himself at a massive warehouse… or what was left of it.

Nothing but ashes and snow was here. The charred skeletons of crates, shelves, and other containers lay in ruin around him. Snowflakes were raining down on him from what little remained of the ceiling. A fire was ignited here a long time ago. Was it an accident or was it on purpose? His foot brushed against something and he looked down to see a candelabra. This must've been the cause.

Something clicked in his mind. This warehouse was large enough to store several weeks' worth of rations. This must've been a major stockpile before the fire. After that- a horrifying implication crawled into his brain. And something else came out.

Gloved hands were clapping behind him. "Bravo, mister Holmes! Bravo!"

Six spun around to see a mustached man in a tuxedo walking toward him. He recognized that asshole anywhere. His dominant hand was shaking.

"Mortimer," Six said. "You can't be here. You're dead!"

Blood and gore started appearing in his suit. Hard to tell if any of it was actually his or his 'dinner'.

"Perhaps," he replied in an indifferent tone. "But that hasn't stopped me from visiting you, has it? Especially when exquisite cuisine is nearby."

Six's fists balled up. "Cuisine?" Six hissed with a scowl. "You call all of this 'cuisine'? It's a fucking massacre! Someone corralled these kids here like Brahmin and forced them to fight one another. Forced them to eat one another! Fucking KIDS! Who the fuck would do this?!"

"Someone with good taste, I imagine."

Six lost his temper and swung a fist at the White Glove ghost. The man let out a dark laugh as the Courier phased through his body and rolled onto the snow-covered floor. He growled as he got back onto his feet and glared at the figure. He drew out his Plasma Defender and fired away until the microfusion cell ran dry. Again no effect. Mortimer cackled.

"And speaking of taste…"

Now his body was beginning to contort and shift. He got down on all fours as his clothes were torn off of his new body. His limbs elongated while he grew a beer gut. His hands became claws and the muscle around his limbs vanished. His teeth became jagged as his eyes and hair dissolved. What remained of his hair was pitch-black and flowed down past his hips.

The creature before him was something out of an old legend out east. A 'Wendigo' if memory serves. It wasn't any surprise that his brain-damaged psyche would associate this abomination with Mortimer and his ilk. Said organ couldn't decide if he was just another hallucination or a legitimate ghost.

Six drew out Chance Knife and took up a stance. The Wendigo struck first, leaping at him. Six swung the knife at him but like before it phased through him. Or rather, the bastard phased through the Courier. And he left an imprint in the form of frost on his armor. Six drew out his Plasma Defender and fired at the specter. Again it phased through him. Six decided to cut his losses and ran like hell. The creature cackled as it gave chase.

"Yes boy, run," Mortimer taunted. "Run back to your little world of science. The eldritch and mystical Arts of the new world will be waiting for you just beyond your steps."

Six sprinted as fast as he could towards the school entrance. But in his haste, he ran over a gap in the floor. Six fell down the dark hole and into an abyss. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a concrete floor. His skull made first contact with cold stone right afterward.

Date: September 30th, 1099

Location: Rhodes Island

Time: Afternoon

A lone shape approaches the docked platform of The Ark. To the ordinary eye, it was just an RV. But anyone with boots on the ground would've seen the pill-shaped logo and the words Pengiubn Logistics embroiled on the side.

Fiammetta and Mostima pulled up onto a ramp at the mobile platform and drove into the hangar bay. Surrounding them were all sorts of ground vehicles. Snowmobiles, motorcycles, humvees, sports cars, pickup trucks. Some of them were sleek and brand new, others seemingly as ancient as the landship itself. Up above them were several dropships, eagerly waiting to be deployed onto some mission or other.

The two ladies hopped out of their ride and began their trek to the bridge. They passed by several Operators and workers, but few registered either lass. Those that did kept their distance. They saw firsthand what the staves on Mostima's back were capable of. And they prayed that they would never see them at their full potential.

The duo reached her destination. Between them and the package's recipient was an office door. The plaque on it read 'Dr. Kal'stit'. Mostima knocked on the door but nobody was responding. It was open, though, so she took a peek inside. A Sarkaz man was speaking with the doctor. As always she was bearing that perpetual frown of hers. She could learn to at least smile some.

There was a sword slung on the man's back. No surprise, considering his race. Something about that design seemed familiar, though. It resembled a katana and had a crimson vial attached to it. She could've sworn she saw such on a mission with Rhodes Island before.

"Look, the only payment I can offer is my sword arm," the man said. "Send me out into the field and I'll rip your enemies a new one."

"And what about your friends?" Kal'stit asked. "How can they contribute?"

"We're survivors, doctor. We've acquired many skills during our time in the wastelands. Need a mechanic or nurse? We've got one. Need a janitor or Messenger? We've got that too. And if that isn't enough, I'll gladly lend my paychecks to them."

"You're willing to forgo payment?"

"We're the only family we've got these days. You understand that, don't you?"

Mostima knocked again. This time the man heard it, yelping and spinning around. He drew out his blade and it instantly coated itself in flames. Fiammetta grew out her grenade pistol, but Mostima grabbed her arm before she could pull the trigger. The two fiery combatants stared each other down for a good thirty seconds before they calmed down and sheathed their weapons.

"And who the bloody hell are you lot?" he asked.

"A simple messenger and her bodyguard," Mostima replied. "I have a package for the good doctor. Is now a bad time to deliver it?'

The man looked at Kal'stit. "We'll finish this discussion later," she told him. "You go get some rest in one of our dormitories."

The man looked back at Mostima, examining her wings and horns with a perplexed look on his face. He's far from the first to give her that look. Once he shut the door, Mostima set the package on the table. Kal'stit looked at the tag on it.

To: Dr. Kal'stit

From: Arnold Hoover

She just stared at it for a few seconds. Before Mostima could ask what was the matter, she opened up the cardboard box. Inside was a metal box. No, a box lined with lead. The Laterans raised an eyebrow. Why would someone cover something in lead of all materials? Opening the box up only raised more questions.

Inside were several more boxes, each with a label; "hardware", "bullets", and "flash drives". There was an additional tag on the first box.

Warning! Contents could potentially be radioactive. Examine with extreme caution.

Mostima opened the second container and revealed several bullets stuffed inside. Fiammetta convinced Hoover to lend her these samples after that accident with Exusiai. Neither she nor Mostima sensed any Originium in them when they first examined them. From the look on Kal'tsit's face, she didn't either. Mostima couldn't help but notice that Kal'stit seemed to linger with the last bullet. She seemed to be murmuring something under her breath, but she couldn't make out what.

Underneath all of those boxes were a bunch of papers. Notes and photos mainly. Mostima grabbed a picture and saw a metal orb with exposed machinery and wiring. She instantly recognized it as the Courier's robot. Another one showcased his helmet, or rather the assembly process of it. Then there were some of his weapons; an SMG, a sniper rifle, a shotgun, a pistol, a miniature chainsaw, and a two-handed axe were among the items she recognized. The rest were a mystery to her. If anything, the remaining objects looked like props from an old sci-fi flick. Like with Six's bullets, neither Lateran sensed any Originium in 'em.

Kal'stit grabbed the first box and opened it, despite the Messenger's protests. Inside were the pieces of a PDA of some form. Fragments of a brown shell were scattered inside, with circuit boards, gauges, and wires thrown into the mix. There was a panel with some straps attached to it. Mostima recognized this device. It was on the Courier's wrist when she first met him.

Kal'stit picked up a flash drive and plugged it into her laptop. Unfortunately, it was heavily encrypted. She yanked the flash drive out and started repacking everything. Just as she finished, her office phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and pressed a button. A holographic projection of a young Cautus appeared over the table. Mostima was all too familiar with that girl.

Amiya looked at the ladies present and smiled.

"Hello Ms. Mostima and Ms. Fiammetta," Amiya greeted. "Good afternoon, Dr. Kal'stit."

"Long time no see, Amiya," Mostima said. "How have you and the Doctor been?"

"We're fine," the young girl replied. "The Doctor is away on a mission but he's in good hands. Ms. Mostima, does the name "Six" ring a bell to you?"

"It may. Why? Has he gotten himself into trouble already?"

"You could say that," Amiya said. "Dr. Kal'stit, did you receive anything from a 'Mr. Hoover'?"

"I have," the lynx-woman replied. "And I'll be sending its contents to the lab for studies."

"Could you and your guests meet me at the Doctor's office when you're done? There's been an urgent call from Exusiai. She'll explain everything."

The hologram flicked out of existence as the call ended. Mostima chuckled while Fiammetta shook her head and groaned.

"Always pegged that man as headstrong," Mostima jested. "But what's got your little rabbit in a tizzy?"

Kal'stit cast a grim look at the Messenger. She didn't like it one bit.

"I have a few theories," she said. "None of them pleasant.

Date: Early 2270's(?)

Location: Indeterminate, Wastelands

Hunting. It's a concept as simple as it is ancient. Where the predator hunts for prey. Where fresh meat can be taken back to one's tribe. It was considered a hobby in prewar America. Nowadays it is vital to the survival of any community. And one cub was being tutored in the art.

This child was following a woman in combat armor. Though her facial features were obscured, she was glowing with this sense of strength. The man radiated intellect, whereas she was the embodiment of power. The perfect image of a 'mama-bear' as Old America called her. Even if she wasn't his mother by blood, she had some of the instincts of one.

But the child didn't trust her all that much. Just because she paid more visits to the doctor doesn't mean she was his mother. She screamed 'mercenary' to him. She had that armor, those fancy guns, and the strength of a Bullhorner. She had more than enough firepower to slaughter everybody in the village. Why she hadn't done so yet was a mystery to him. Either way, he wasn't going to let his guard down around her.

They were out hunting for geckos. A child his size could easily get gobbled up by them if he got close. This lesson was about staying out of sight and range. So he stuck to the cliffs, behind cover, in the shadows. Wherever he can crouch down, jump over, or crawl under. And his weapon? A goddamn bow and arrow. She could've at least given him a BB gun, but no. No, she had to give him some ancient piece of crap.

Okay, maybe it wasn't a piece of crap. The arrows were sharp enough to pierce the Geckos' scales and flesh. And they were silent in comparison to the little 'booms' left behind by bullets. Not to mention easier to craft. Maybe there was a tactical advantage to these relics after all.

One gecko fell to the bow and arrow. Another got jumped by him and his knife when it walked by his hiding spot. Two more had their legs crippled before he went for their eyes. The mother of the pack took at least a dozen arrows before she finally went down. The woman smiled as he took out his knife and skinned the prey. She walked over to him and patted his head like some pet.

"Nice work kid," she said. "That's probably a week's worth of food you've got by now. Ready to head back?"

The boy nodded. The sooner he got back to his real guardian, the better. The two trekked through the desert for a good hour. It would be another before they got back home. On the way back the woman decided to strike up a conversation.

"Saw your little brawl the other day," she recalled. "Gave that asshole a black eye back there."

"Is this the part where you tell me you're disappointed, or proud?" The boy asked with vitriol.

The woman ruffled his hair. "Hey, I hate bullies too. It's why I took up arms. But fightin' ain't gonna build bridges. And people are capable of change too. Maybe those douchebags will turn a new leaf somewhere down the road."

"You're saying I should talk to them?"

"A little psychological analysis and warfare can be useful."

"And here you are doing the former on me."

The woman sighed. "Look, you don't trust me. I'm an unknown variable in your life. I can't blame you for having these thoughts. But a little faith- a little trust- can get you farther in life than walking some lonesome road. Plus, it's more fun to watch schadenfreude than it is to count pebbles all by yourself."

The boy crossed his arms and looked away. The woman went for a different angle.

"I've seen the way you act with *buzzsaw* around. You try to show off your test grades and the latest kill to him. You ask him all sorts of questions and you watch him work. You trust him, hell maybe even idolize him. Why? What did he do to earn your trust?"

The kid looked back at her. "... he gave me freedom."

"Freedom?" she asked with a tilted head. "Oh… that place, huh?"

At last, they arrived at their hometown. Or rather his hometown as far as he was concerned. The woman was a recent arrival, having set up shop a couple of months back. She hadn't spoken much about her life when she first came. She still hadn't said a word to this day. Perhaps she crawled out of a hellhole of her own? He probably could empathize with her in that regard at least.

The man was waiting for them at the doctor's office. He was reading one of the books he snatched from the city that must not be named. He heard the door open and peeked his head out to see them entering his bedroom. He smiled as he closed the book, setting it to the side.

"Welcome back," he greeted. "I trust the hunt went well?"

"Yep," the woman replied. "Oliver Twist here took out an entire pack of geckos by himself. Little bastard was a ninja out there."

The man laughed. "Ever the slippery one," he said. "*static*, why don't you put the bounty in the meat locker down the street. *laserfire* and I can take care of the pelts."

The boy was hesitant to leave the man with her, but he eventually complied and did as told. He had seen him in action on the night they left their old "home". If that she-devil had any ideas, he can repel her just as he did with the Guard. The boy made his way to the local butcher's shop and knocked on his door.

A portly man opened the door and greeted the child with a hearty smile. "G'day mate," he said. "Here to make a purchase or have ye some bounty?"

The boy sat the sack of gecko meat before the man's feet. He took a peek inside and slung it over his shoulder.

"Hmm, clean cuts," he complimented. "No flakes or scales leftover. You'd make one hell of a butcher, lad."

"I'll stick with knives and bullets, thank you very much," the child replied.

The man laughed. "As stubborn as ever, I see. Go ahead and load them up in the meat locker. I'll sort 'em out later."

The boy nodded and went to the back of the shop. There lay a massive Vault door, about the size of a man. He had to grab some stools to reach the handle but turning it wasn't that much of a problem. Yet when he set foot inside the door itself. The kid looked back in bewilderment and tried to push or pull it open. It wouldn't budge. He grabbed another stool and tried to turn the handle. Same result.

Then the door shifted into a glass window. On the other side were people in blue-and-yellow jumpsuits, pointing and laughing at him. Men, women, even children. The meat locker turned into a snowy forest, the sky above as black as the people's hearts. The only light he had was a blue moon.

But another one appeared on the scene. It was a walking flame, taking on the shape of a Yao Guai. He could hear someone crying inside the fire. It sounded like a girl. The jumpsuits chanted something and waved their hands up, cheering at the sight of the monster.

The boy wanted to reach for his knife but found that his entire body was covered in frost. He could barely move, not with his body shivering like crazy. He was amazed that he didn't shake himself apart. The Yao Guai charged at his claws first and the crowd grew wild. Before the beast collided with him, he could've sworn he heard the sound of flesh and bone being sliced open. He caught a glimpse of silver among the spectators before his vision went dark.

The Courier awoke with a groan. He rubbed his helmet as he rose back onto his knee. The world was still spinning, though, so he blinked and shook his head. His nose was still good if the scent of copper was any indication.

Wait… he wasn't just smelling copper. His nose was picking up sulfur and gold too. But he hadn't encountered a smell like that since-.

His vision finally returned, and he was in for a shock. Art Deco designs surrounding him. The blood-red skies and storms above. And of course the damn smell. He was back at the Sierra Madre. And he wasn't alone.

Out of the shadows emerged shambling figures in hazmat suits. They wielded a plethora of handcrafted weapons, from cosmic knives to spears and beartrap fists. He recognized them anywhere. They were the Ghost People. And they had him surrounded. Six naturally made a break for it, shoving the monsters aside.

More of them crawled out into the open. From the rooftops, the manholes, drainages, dumpsters. He kept running until he came across a mobile generator connected to a fountain. No, not a fountain…

He went to work on repairing it. If it was what he thought it was, it was his best chance at survival. Wires were tied back up, gears oiled, and belts replaced. And with the slam of a button, the engine roared to life. A hologram of a man with bear ears popped up and glared down at the Ghost People. It lifted its hands to the sides of its head and began firing lasers from its forehead. The abominations that stuck around were disintegrated.

Six let out a sigh of relief. His reprieve was short-lived, however, as the hologram began opening fire on him. Six turned around to shut off the generator but the machine was gone. Vanished into thin air. But he did notice a wire out of place, though. It wasn't attached to the fountain before. And it was leading into a store.

Six wasted no time and followed the trail. Before him were a terminal and a breaker box. Six plopped a seat at the former but he couldn't hack into it. It was locked behind a password. He looked at the second object and noticed that its panel was missing. He could see the main switch inside.

He turned around to see the hologram stepping inside. He made a mad dash for the box and pulled the switch up. White noise emerged from the construct as it spasmed, contorting into many shapes. A bright white light emerged from the computer and engulfed the whole world.

Six shielded his eyes from the blinding light. Even with the lens they still burned from the intensity of the light. When that stinging sensation finally died out, he opened his eyes back up. He wasn't in the Sierra Madre anymore. He was in a dark, cramped room with patches of snow. He was back in Chernoberg.

So it was all in my head. Six bitterly thought. Another damn hallucination.

Yet he also felt a speck of relief. But it was short-lived as he remembered his mission. The lights flickered back on, illuminating his surroundings. And the first thing to catch his eye was a corpse sitting at a table. This one wasn't the size of a child, though. If anything, it appeared to be around his height. Another one of the school's staff perhaps? No, this man's uniform resembled something from law enforcement back on Earth. A police officer then?

Static crackled into existence, startling Six. It was coming from somewhere near the body. Six walked over to the table to find a radio on it. A panel on the side was open, revealing circuit boards, wires, and the occasional wheel of tape. Six looked down at his Pipboy and then the radio. He pulled up the RADIO tab and shut the actual device off. The Cheronberg tab on the Pipboy vanished. Turning it back on restored it.

This was the source of the signal. This fellow must've been trying to reach out to the world while the school descended into chaos. It must've reached one of the local radio towers and bounced off from there. From the looks of things, though, he was the only one that answered.

He pulled the plug on the radio again. This time he was going to leave it like that. Nobody should have to see this horror show. And the dead in turn do not need anyone to disturb their rest.

He heard a whirring sound coming around the corner. The tell-tale sign of an Eyebot's antigrav repulsor. Six smiled as ED-E rounded a corner and found the Courier.

"Nice to see a friendly faceplate," Six said. "Sorry I ran off like that."

ED-E emitted a few inquisitive beeps at the human. He didn't respond immediately.

"I… just saw a ghost is all," Six replied. "Or two."

ED-E inquired further in binary. This time Six didn't feel obliged to answer him and simply left the basement. Some of the lights have come back on, albeit in flickers. He didn't know how long the power would stay on and frankly, he didn't want to. He was already satisfied with the answers he got here. He was all too eager to leave them all behind.

ED-E beeped something of concern at his operator. Six once again ignored him. Even if his Automated Personality evolved to adopt more human-like qualities, he doubted that the Eyebot would comprehend his issues (let alone have any understanding of human psychology in its programming). He already vented those out to more qualified and understanding individuals back home. He didn't feel like repeating it anytime soon.

He sprinted out of the school grounds and into the wider city. He didn't look back until he was absolutely certain that the hell home was out of his line of sight. When he asked ED-E that very question, the robot sent out an affirmative bleep. When he looked back for confirmation, his anxiety was assuaged.

His Pipboy picked up another transmission, though. This one wasn't broadcasting music or any dialogue, though. Rather it was a series of beeps and tones. Something about it seemed familiar. He swore he heard something like this back on Earth.

[Intelligence 8] Six blinked. That sounded like Morse Code. This world had Morse Code? Finally something universal! He took out an old pre-war book and began decoding the transmission.

~Alpha Pack speaking, go ahead.~

~Alpha, this is Delta Pack. We reached our rendezvous point. Have the other teams responded back?~

~Negative. You are the first.~

~Have they been compromised?~

~Unknown. Give them more time.~

Six didn't like the sounds of that. Were they mercenaries? Or just salvagers? Either way, it put him on edge. His Pipboy already triangulated the signal's point of origin and marked a waypoint for him to follow. Part of Six's mind was against the idea. If they were smart enough to use a radio, they were probably armed to the teeth.

Yet once more his curiosity was getting the better of him. Why would anyone come to this necropolis? To salvage goods to sell? If they were scavengers, then maybe they'd be willing to do some bartering. If they were mercenaries, then this place was of significance to their employer. In the end, curiosity won. Six was willing to err on the side of caution, though. That should keep his 'common sense' quiet for the time being.

Six followed the marker for at least a couple of hours before reaching his destination. It appeared to be a radio station if the tower was of any indication. His HUD did pick up movement though. He could see armored shapes patrolling the area. Getting near them would not be the best idea. He looked around for a vantage point and saw a crumbling building nearby.

It looked like it was nine stories tall from his perspective. The door was wide open and the top floor appeared to be relatively intact from the outside. Six ran up to the entrance and peeked inside. The lobby was as empty and grey as the rest of the city. He slipped in and began a slow trek up. While his HUD wasn't picking up any movement, he wasn't going to take any chances of tripping an alarm.

After several stories worth of climbing, he finally made it to the rooftop. He knelt down behind the ledge and took out some binoculars. He zoomed in on the station's current occupants. They were all wearing tactical armor and armed to the teeth. At first Six thought that they were of the Ursus army, but they didn't match Croissant's description of them. No bear ears, no pit-black dyes, no furs. They looked like something from a more arid background. Hell, they'd probably fit right in at the Mojave.

The crossbowmen had standard helmets and headsets attached to them. Lightly armored but no match for his sniper rifle. He'll have no issue taking them out. Then there were those hulking shieldbearers. 'Defenders', right? The ones that worried him the most were carrying grenade launchers. They also carried what appeared to be sickles on their belts. Not the kind of person he would want to get close to.

Then there were these towering individuals with the strangest helmets he had ever seen. They almost brought a dog house to mind from a distance, but that was because of the reinforced visor they had over their helms. They appeared to be wearing ponchos or cloaks too, giving them a foreboding aura. Something told him that they were not to be taken lightly.

Supporting the humans were armored hounds and drones. He probably could take those out with a small dose of Steady. But even if he could, that'd risk sounding off an alarm. While he was scanning the station, his eyes caught a glimpse of something. Or rather, an absence of something.

It looked like an entire section of the city vanished into thin air. Didn't Exusiai say that some settlements were made from multiple platforms? Why would one of them break off from the rest of the city? Or could it just have been destroyed at some point? No, no he didn't see any wreckage from his vantage point. Maybe he could if he got closer to the actual edge, but that would mean running past the station.

Six sighed. There was too much distance between him and the goons, so his bullets wouldn't reach them. He'll have to get closer. He went back into the building and began a swift trek back to earth. There were some holes in the floors so he hopped down those as a sort of shortcut. Plus he helped himself to some LMDs along the way. Never know when you'll have to barter with someone.

When he finally got back outside and made a sprint for the station, a grey cloud rolled out of it. He heard the guards shouting something in that native tongue, walking in to investigate. Six hid behind some wreckage and peeped his head out. Something small- something fast- collided with the drones. Their thrusters exploded when the projectiles embedded themselves in them, bringing the machines crashing down.

The dogs were barking like crazy and ran inside. Six's ears picked up the sound of flesh being flayed and sliced apart. It was a sound all too familiar to him. Now some of the men were shouting something. No, not shouting. Screaming. Now he could make out the sound of armor being torn to shreds.

Six ran closer to the radio station, hiding behind another pile of debris. He tried to lock onto something in the clouds with VATS but it wouldn't register anything. His motion tracker wasn't reading any movement either.

"ED-E, you sense anything in there?" Six asked.

A negative beep from the Eyebot only raised more questions. How the hell was this smoke disrupting their sensors? Unless…

Six growled. Arts… he realized. It's fucking magic.

There was one soul he knew that wielded that kinda power. But the universe suggested otherwise. A crossbowman ran out of the fog in a panic, crying out. Something flew into his back and embedded itself into his spine. Six crept up to the fresh corpse to see a knife lodged in. April didn't use anything resembling those last he checked. This wasn't her handiwork.

Most of his brain was screaming 'GTFO', but the rest of it wanted answers. What the hell was going on? Why did they attack this camp? Were they hostile or friendly? What was the significance of this place? Six ruffled through his backpack and took out some Berry Mentats. Under normal circumstances, he'd laugh at the notion of needing them. He was plenty smart as is.

But these were crafted from a recipe out East. One that advertised a highlight effect of sorts. It was high time for a test run. Six popped a tablet and was ready to run into the fog. Only complication was that it came to him instead. The drug took effect shortly afterward.

There were several shades in the mists, some sort of combination between red and purple. He couldn't think of a proper name for the color at the time. As for how the shapes were produced, his best guess was that the drug granted him some form of echolocation or electroreception.

Most of the shades weren't moving. Yet one danced around his line of sight. It was alive, well, and fast as hell.

Someone shouted in the smoke. They sounded feminine, but nothing like April. And frankly, the dialect sounded different from the usual native tongue. It had an Eastern European vibe to it. Russian maybe.

"Could you please speak in English?" Six shouted back. "I don't understand a damn word you're saying!"

There was some murmuring in the mists. "What the hell is 'English'?" The voice asked in an accent.

"You just answered your own question," Six retorted with a slight smirk.

A blur slashed at his armor. His HUD's compass finally came back online but it was spasming like crazy. A single red rectangle was spinning around it like a ball in a roulette wheel at the Tops. ED-E let out agitated beeps as he fired away in the smokescreen. Six didn't hear the lasers impacting on anything. He tried to call upon VATS again, but it only locked onto ED-E. ED-E himself was thrown through the fog somewhere by the assailant. Through a glass window from the sound of things. Six tried to chase after the robot but the shadow prevented him from leaving his spot.

[Perception 7/10] He was listening for any footsteps or breathing. Hell, he was trying to find any unusual smell. Nothing. All he could make out were the blurs that rushed out to slice or stab away at his armor. All he could do was try to block them. At least the Berry Mentats hadn't worn off yet. He could at least predict where the next attack would come from.

Six felt something shift under his foot. Dirt. He smiled. He waited for the figure to strike again and knelt. He threw the soil and dust onto his opponent. Some of the particles managed to get into their eyes, judging from the assailant's shouting. They were stunned long enough for the Courier to get a good look at them.

It was a young woman in a leather hoodie. Crimson hair peeped out from under a jet-black hood. She had a face mask of the same color, bearing some worn white markings. It was hard to tell what the original symbol was, though. He could also make out a crimson tail poking out from behind her. It looked like a canine to him. Maybe one of those Lupo's?

When she stopped rubbing her eyes, The Courier caught a glimpse of them too. Crimson, almost as red as her hair. And with hazel rings around the pupils. He recalled seeing images of similarly strange eyes in an issue of Today's Physician. What did the magazine call that condition again? Central Heterochromia'?

Six went on the offense, charging at her with his fists. He wanted to refrain from using lethal force, at least until he got some answers. He just threw a flurry of punches at her, followed by a Ranger Takedown. He pounced on her and just punched away. Yet somehow she broke free from him. She… phased through him?

What the hell? Six thought. Am I hallucinating again? No, those scratches on my armor are fresh, new. She and them are very much real. Must be intangibility or at least density control.

She slashed at his back with her blade. Six tried to block her attacks with his arms, letting them soak up the damage. When he saw a chance, he retaliated with a Scribe Counterattack. Now she was dancing around him, hacking and slashing at every turn. Six's armor was holding up so far, but even it had its limits. Sooner or later it'll break. Six tried to reach for a flashbang, but the girl always knocked his hand away from his belt.

The crimson 'energy' began to flicker and eventually vanished altogether. Just his rotten luck.

[Agility 5/10] The girl retreated into the fog. Once again she was dashing to and from the smog, always landing her blade on his armor. She was too fast for him to hit back, let alone parry. Six drew out his ripper and by sheer luck, he finally managed to lock blades with her. Six tried to kick her in the abdomen, but she saw it a mile away. She phased through him and threw a kick of her own at the back of his head. That dazed him long enough for her to tackle him to the ground.

Now she was sitting right on his back. Her blade was at his neck.

"I don't have time for smart-alecks,'' she snarled. "Who sent you? Rhodes Island? Kal'tsit? The Emperor's Blades? Penguin Logistics? Talulah? That damn executive?"

Six growled at her accusations. "Me? Who sent you, bitch?!" he hissed back.

She scraped her short sword against his neck's cover. The sound it produced was something akin to scratching a chalkboard with one's fingernails.

"Nobody," She asserted. "I'm my own woman. And I'd watch your tongue while you still have it."

She knelt closer to his face. "I won't ask again; Who. Sent. You?"

A/N:

And Crownslayer steals the scene! Yep, this is one of the earliest bosses in Arknights and one that people loved to bully around. Too bad Six doesn't have first-hand experience with her. Especially since she's using her smokescreen now. Funny thing about this meeting; she was originally gonna pop up in the last chapter. Six would've run into her just before she left Siracusa and bribed her to drive him to Great Lungsmen. Another version had them meeting up at the beginning, but I figured that it'd be better for them to meet at the end. And if she wasn't available, than the role would've fallen to Angelina.

Some of you might be wondering 'wait, why the hell is she here? Isn't she supposed to be in Siracusa right now?' Well, she's here for a very special reason. What could be so special about it? We'll let her explain in the next chapter. But for now, expect there to be a shitload of mistrust between the two.

And speaking of Chernoberg… yeah this was a location I wanted to revisit for a while now. Hell in earlier conceptions, it was to be the starting point for whatever I wanted to crossover with Arknights. Some spacecraft or aircraft flying over the dead city and the protagonist(s) falling and crashing through the buildings was one of my earliest entrances. And hell, it would've featured the Ursus Student Self-Governing Group as first contact. Just imagine the looks on their faces if dug a Spartan landed out of some rubble. If anyone wants to make such an X-Over, by all means... DEW IT!

Someone also mentioned Sargon in a previous review and pointed out how different it and Kazdel are. I'll admit that regions slipped my mind when looking for potential LZs for Six to pop up at. I guess I was looking for more urban-based environments to spawn him at while typing the first chapters. Something like the DC ruins or Boston. Hence why Kazdel was chosen in the end. Sargon probably shares some similarities to the Mojave and would feature an environment familiar to Six. But he also explored urban-based ones, like the Sierra Madre, Divide, and Freeside. So not too alien for him either way.

And as a lesser bit of trivia, I was listening to some Halo 3: ODST ambient soundtracks while typing up the city's sections. And speaking of the USSGG, what's with the school section? Well, Halloween is around the corner at the time of this typing, so I wanted to include something spooky and torture Six's mind some. And we also got a glimpse of his (potential) backstory and a little bit of what happened after the 2nd Battle for Hoover Dam. As you can imagine, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. We'll be seeing a bit more of that time period down the line… and maybe some angst to boot.

Then there's Mortimer. Is he really a ghost, or another of Six's hallucinations? I'll leave that for you to decide.

Since Lyudmila is here, could we see Zima and her crew pop up? Honestly, I don't think any of them want to go back to that hellhole. Zima herself made that crystal clear in one of her voice files. But rescue operations were going on after the fall of Cheronberg, though. Doubt they're still ongoing by 1099, but seeing as that someone is messing with some radio towers right now…

Oh hey, two of Rhodes Island's pillars have finally made an appearance! What about the Doktuh you may ask? Well, I'm saving him for later down the line. In the meantime, Amiya and Kal'stit will have to solve this little mystery without him. Of course, there are some trust issues between the two of them as well, if I recall correctly. And Kal'stit certainly isn't as gentle and polite as Amiya either.

Next time; Rhodes Islands does some digging around and Six finds himself in a shaky partnership.

Edit: Extended the fight between him and Crowny.