Let Nothing Fall to Chance

by Chronicler of Unseen Stars

Years have passed since the liberation of New Vegas, and the Courier's itching for a new adventure. Duty has bound him to Big MT and the Mojave, unwilling to let either out of his sight. When a certain satellite goes missing, Six leaps at the chance to break free from his prison. But he gets more than he bargains for and trades one wasteland for another. Crossposted on AO3.

9. Dumpster Diving

Chapter 9: Dumpster Diving

Date: Unknown, at least two months since the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam

Location: Miles from the Mojave border

Time: Morning

Sand. Dirt. Scorching Sun. Freezing nights. These were all a constant in the Mojave for as long as anybody remembered. The natives battled with it on a daily basis before explorers arrived on this land. Settlers had to adapt to these conditions in the days of the Wild West. Their descendants lived comfortable lives before the bombs dropped. But after the bombs… heh, not so much.

The Courier had just walked out of the northern border of the Mojave Wasteland and into neutral territory. The NCR and Legion haven't made a play for the land in recent months, so Six didn't have to worry about running into either faction. Of course, he brought some company along with him just to be on the safe side. With him was Rose of Sharon Cassidy (or 'Cass' for short) and Rex. Truth be told, Cass was the one leading this little expedition.

She had run into a trader from the Eastern Commonwealths a few days ago. Someone with a lot of stories and history to share. Under normal circumstances, Six would've leaped at the chance to meet this person. But he had been burdened with leading New Vegas since he won its independence and was reluctant to leave his post. Not until he was certain the locals wouldn't burn their homes to the ground like complete idiots.

Thankfully Arcade was willing to fill in his shoes for the time being. Truth be told, Six always considered him the better leader- or at least speaker- of the two. Sure they both kicked ass in the battlefield and labs, but Arcade could actually hold a conversation without looking awkward or losing his patience. And frankly, he was better at politics than Six was.

The trio finally arrived at their destination. It was a gas station with a crimson rocketship on the rooftop. There was a garage large enough to house several cars, with a convenience store connected to it. There were two signs towering over the world. One of them was the original, prewar brand; Red Rocket. The other was a newer- if crude- neon sign. The latter was flashing the words 'Journey From the East!'.

Outside were a couple of robots. One of them was a Protectron, nothing special. The other was a rather unique model. It was tall, lanky, towering over the average human. It had a couple of antennae and was coated in bright red paint. This was a working model of Red Rocket's mascot. What was its name again? Was it ever named?

There were several statues too. Some of them are people in power armor. Some were of the Vault Boy. There were turrets all over the place too. Some regular machine gun turrets. Some missile launchers. A couple of laser turrets here and there. There were some vending machines and dispensers too. And near the entrance hung the flag of the Old World.

"This is the place," Cass said.

The trio walked up to the front door of the shop. Cass held up a hand.

"Fair warning," she added. "This guy keeps a… strange-ass pet in his store."

"What kind of pet?" Six asked.

"The kind that Tinman here will chase after."

She took out a couple of items from her bag and handed them to Six. It was just a dog collar and leash. Six would've snarked at her, but then he remembered Rex's distaste for rats (and hats). The cyberdog whined at the Courier as he buckled the collar on him. With leash in hand, Six knocked on the door.

An odd sound popped up behind the barrier. It sounded like… a meow? The door gave way to reveal a Ghoul in a traveling leather coat, pistol in hand. Hanging around his neck was a bandana with stars and stripes, along with welding goggles. His sunglasses had their rims replaced with bottle caps of all things. But the strangest thing about him was his handgun. At first glance, it appeared to be a 12.7mm, but its receiver was actually a Fusion Cell.

[Perception 6] Even stranger was the symbol on its tip. It was the crest of the Brotherhood of Steel. This intrigued the Courier. Last he heard, the Brotherhood didn't recruit Ghouls. Was this guy some ex-Paladin that survived a nuclear blast? Guess their Power Armor wasn't all that it was hyped up to be after all.

The Ghoul analyzed each of the heroes, his trigger finger twitching. When his eyes fell upon Cass, though, a warm smile grew across his weathered face. He sheathed his handgun.

"Welcome back, Ms. Cassidy," he said with a Southern accent. "Didn't think I'd be seeing ya again so soon."

"I told you I'd be bringing a nerd back with me," she replied, pointing at Six with her thumb.

The man's eyebrow- or at least the muscle it once rested on- arched. He reexamined the Courier up and down before putting on a baffled face.

"The cowboy?" the Ghoul replied. "A bookworm? You're joking, right?"

Six's eyes twitched at the word 'cowboy' under his Desert Ranger helmet. Sure he wasn't exactly a soldierboy or playboy, but a 'cowboy? Some illiterate fool that'd rather show off their big irons in grandiose displays -like cliched showdowns at high noon, singing at the top of his lungs, or drinking contests? Or was that a 'Ranger'? Nah, NCR has already laid claims to that word years ago.

"Vigilante," Six retorted.

"Pretty sure there's a Latin phrase for that sort of response," The Ghoul retorted.

"[Intelligence 8]'Nihil sub sole novum' are the words you're looking for?"

Cass padded the back of his shoulder like an elder sister to her younger brother. "Don't mind him," she said. "He hates those ol' western movies."

"Most," Six confessed. "I might have a soft spot for Johnny Guitar. Only thing I have in common with 'cowboys' is wanderlust. I just happen to be more of an intellectual."

"So were cowboys, believe it or not," the Ghoul replied. "Plenty of them were survivalists and farmers. Hell, even philosophers. Though I will admit that Hollywood did the umbrella trope a major dishonor during the Resource Wars. I blame the HUAC and Hays Code for the bullshit."

The Ghoul grumbled under his breath, something about 'emasculation'. "Enough about the stigma and bias towards the Wild West," he continued. "What can I do for y'all?"

Cass shoved the Courier forward in a playful manner. He cast an annoyed look at her before clearing his throat. "I heard that you've been gathering books and holotapes from out east," Six explained.

"That I am," the Ghoul confirmed. "Survival guides, history books, documentaries, blueprints and recipes, etc. Cass did mention having a friend with a thirst for knowledge."

Six rubbed the back of his helmet in a sheepish manner. "I'll admit that curiosity is one of my quirks," he confesses. "I consider it to be the best weapon in my arsenal." he held out a hand. "I'm Six, by the way."

"Where're your parents?"

"Very funny."

The Ghoul shook his gloved hand. "A little humor keeps the doctor away," he said. "Name's Douglas. Welcome to my shop."

The three of them stepped inside. There was a miniature bar at the end, with a cooking stove and brewing station behind it. Nearby were some prewar chairs and tables. The furniture was all a ruby red, with hints of white. What baffled him was that it all seemed relatively brand new, free of radioactive dust. Even the walls and floor- the former a solid white and the latter checkered- were spotless. The answer came in the form of a ruby-red Mr. Handy, its chassis resembling a Nuka Cola cooler.

"Top of the morning to you, sir and madam," waved the robot as it moped the floor.

The shelves were filled with all sorts of pre-war food. Cakes, sodas, popcorn, chips, beans, preserved fruits, jam. There were some freezers with meat inside. Deathclaw, gecko, radscorpion, molerat, dogmeat. There were several coolers with various beverages. Alcohol, Nuka Cola, Sarsaparilla, lemonade, tea, milk, even iced coffee.

Rex sniffed the air and started barking his head off. The cyberdog tried to run towards the tables but Six held onto his leash tightly. Something small hopped onto the bar stand. Something Six had only seen in pictures. His jaw dropped as his brain put the pieces together. There, right at the backend of the store, was a goddamned cat. A cat!

"Where…" Six began.

"From Boston," Douglas revealed. "Believe it or not, they still exist out east. Some Vaults allowed families to bring their pets with them when the bombs dropped. And even when they did, they didn't salt every corner of America with Rads. Some areas were relatively safe enough for cats to prosper, with ample food and people still looking to adopt them. Of course, I know some folk that can clone and splice one together too if you fancy playing mad scientist. Ain't that right, Cheshire?"

The cat meowed and rubbed its face against the ghoul's sleeve. It purred as he scratched its cheeks and chin.

"Cute name," Six remarked. "You a fan of Lewis Carroll?"

"My wife was. I was more interested in the Inklings in my heydays. Nice to see that your generation still appreciates literature, though."

Six dragged Rex away from the feline and walked into the garage. There were several workbenches around them. Some he had seen before, some he hadn't. There were some mannequins with clothes and armor too.

One of them was a noir-style trench coat, with a poster of a man touting a silver Tommy gun behind it. He had to admit, it was badass-looking. There was a set of heavy armor bearing the Brotherhood insignia, along with some matching memorabilia behind it. There was also a set of lightweight armor with a gasmask and camo paintjob. There was even a set of marine armor in one corner, with several metals attached to it.

But what caught his eye was the Power Armor on display. First of all, it was larger than any suit he had seen before. Second of all, it appeared to use the T-45 as a template. Then there were the lamplights on the shoulders and forehead. Finally was the yellow colorscheme and the giant servos at the end of the arms.

Douglas walked in with a chuckle. "Ain't seen West-Tek frames before, eh?" He asked.

Six shook his head. "Never seen a suit of Power Armor this massive before. This supposed to be for construction or something?"

"That particular one, kinda. But the frames in general, Nah. Ya see some folks thought that 'Special Training' was too expensive and time-consuming," the Ghoul began. "So they ran a little contest for a workaround. West-Tek won by revamping the whole system, building up a brand-new chassis. All you had to do was pop the armor plating onto the frame, step inside, and boom! You were a walking arsenal. A certain mining company wanted to capitalize on this, but that's a story for another day."

"Sounds like a double-edged sword," Six noted.

"Well yeah, some Raiders did salvage the frames," Douglas admitted. "but most didn't have access to the actual armor. Best they could do was weld together some crap over the framework."

Six walked over behind it. There was a valve handle on the back.

"I wouldn't bother," Douglas said. "Fusion Core ran dry ages ago."

"[Power Armor Training] This thing suit doesn't use Mircrofusion packs?"

"It can, but I've never been able to find one during my travels with that thing."

A disappointed sigh escaped from Six's lips. "You got any books at least? Or holotapes?"

"Well, my friends and I did collect some recordings and managed to make copies of them. Interviews, audio diaries, even some holo-movies. Of course, there're some old magazines and books too. You the reading type?"

Six nodded. The man smiled and beckoned him back to the shop. Just before they left the garage, Six tripped over something and fell face-first. Grumbling as he rose back up, he saw something sticking out of the floor. A hidden panel. The man emitted a slightly nervous laugh and stomped on it. Six heard something click and lock into place as the platform went down.

"Sorry about that," the elder apologized. "Damn bunker doesn't always shut itself all the way."

Six raised an eyebrow under his helm. "Bunker?" Six instinctively asked. "Why would-?"

Rex's barking interrupted his questioning. Six looked back at the hand that held the leash earlier. It was empty. He cursed himself and chased after Rex. The damn fool was chasing after Cheshire. Poor bastard was howling at the top of his lungs as he ran from the metal monster. The Ghoul joined in on the chaos, trying to rescue his pet from the cyberdog. All the while Cass was laughing her ass off.

Six finally caught up to Rex and grabbed him by the collar. "Bad dog!" Six told him. "Bad cyberdog! You don't go running off like that without me."

Rex whined and lowered his ears. Cass finally stopped giggling and took the cyberdog's leash. Douglas went into a door beside the brewing machine and placed Cheshire in some room. Probably his personal quarters. Six could've sworn he saw something, though. Something blue and yellow.

The man returned to the store and cleared his throat. He motioned for Six to follow him to a collection of vending machines on the eastern wall. He pointed at one with a locker.

"Just select an item and deposit the caps," he explained. "The dispenser will copy any data chosen onto a holotape. Of course, I have physical books too if that's your preferred media."

Six walked up to the counter and began browsing the menu. After a minute of browsing, some things caught his attention. Something that intrigued him. His hand stroked the 'chin' of his helmet as he examined the objects of interest. They were all plans and recipes for a number of things. Plans that included but weren't limited to; a Jetpack, a Plasma Cutter, a Gatling Plasma, a War Glaive, a Power armor station, and a Tinker's station. A number of new chems also caught his eye; Daddy-O, X-Cell, Day Tripper, Flamer Jet, Ultrajet, RadShield, Stimpack diffusers, healing salves, Addictol, different flavors of Mentats, and various combinations of different chems.

Six inserted the caps and watched as some slips of paper were printed out. His Pip-Boy scanned and uploaded each blueprint into its database. Some chems popped out of the machine like soda cans. He wasn't done shopping just yet, though. He saw some holotapes that caught his interest. One of them pertained to a group called the Minutemen. Weren't they a militia from the Revolutionary War? There was another regarding cryptids. Early sightings of mutations, perhaps. One more was labeled "Formation of the Brotherhood of Steel". That warranted a listen in Six's book. He purchased those among other things and looked back at the Ghoul.

"This is quite the collection," Six noted. "You must've done a lot of traveling."

"Oh you have no idea kiddo," Douglas replied. "Seen many things, met many people, killed many more… I've probably got enough of a lifetime to write an epic. But I've lost my appetite for adventures with my skin ages ago. I just wanna settle down and enjoy life while I'm still sane."

Six bagged his items and called his companions over. Douglas followed them towards the exit and shook the Courier's hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, kid," said the Ghoul.

"Likewise," Six replied. "If the fates let me, I might drop by here again in the near future."

The elder chuckled. "I'll be counting the days."

And with that, the trio exited the shop. The man locked the door and took out a comfy chair from a corner. Activating a fake fireplace and propping his feet up on an ottoman, Douglas was about to start reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn when his jukebox flickered to life.

Life is all there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, blowing back the breeze

Country roads, take me home…

To the place, I belong!

Douglas shut off the machine before it could continue. "Not today, pal," he said to it with a somber tone. "Not today…"

---

Date: October 1st, 1099

Location: Kazdel

Time: 3:21 PM

Several hours have passed since their dropship left the Ark. While they were hardly near the Kazdel border, many of its occupants didn't think it would take this long to get there. Granted, the Ark was sitting in the wastelands between Laterno and Rim Billiton. And though the landship could've brought itself closer to the fallen country, that would risk drawing the attention of the Yanese and Ursus Empires. After everything that went down in Chernoberg, -untangling the conspiracies surrounding Reunion- the last thing they wanted to venture anywhere near either country's turf.

The Operators found various ways to pass the time. Some of them traded banter and gossip with one another, others turned to their smartphones for some distraction or another. Music, social media, news, streaming entertainment, mobile games. Ceylon and Magallan both retreated into their books and notes, while Sesa and Jessica discussed the latest products in the firearms industry.

Schwarz was not in the mood for idle chit-chat. Recently she moved over beside Rangers to debrief with Franka and Liskarm. Ceylon was saddened by this of course. Even more so that she had to keep certain secrets from her. But it was for her own safety of course. Schwarz didn't want her to go through the same horrors she did.

Her mind drifted back toward Long Spring. Miarow's sacrifice, Drudge's gambit, Levi's experiments… and his pet project. Very few knew what went down in that madman's laboratory. What he had unleashed. Part of her wondered if she and Rainbow Team truly ended the nightmare, or merely delayed it. For all they knew, that thing could still be alive. And if it ever resurfaced…

She shook her head. No. That eldritch abomination met a fiery demise in the explosion. There haven't been any reports of monsters being sighted near the labs' remains in the aftermath. All of Levi's creatures had been hunted down and exterminated. She personally saw to it herself.

Franka's voice pulled her out of her train of thought. She looked to see the eldest Sniper in disbelief. It didn't take long for her to discover why.

"Lasers?" Rangers asked. "Plasma? This man possesses directed-energy weapons? That sounds like the stuff of science fiction to me."

Schwarz couldn't agree more and gave a quick nod. "Rainbow Team had some strange technology on hand," she recalled. "but nothing like what you're suggesting."

"That's not the only weird part," Franka said. "Apparently he brought a robot with him onto Terra. A cute metal eyeball that disintegrates people, according to Exusiai."

Schwarz blinked. No drone in Terra's history had that sort of firepower. Or at least, none that she knew of.

"And this level of technology is in the hands of a…" Schwarz paused. "What was the word you used to describe him?"

"A cowboy. Dude's got a duster and a fancy handgun. And a shotgun. And a sniper rifle."

"And all of them are firearms? His rifle isn't a blowpipe or a dart gun?"

"Nope. It fired bullets like a real gun. Shotgun supposedly had metal pellets. No originium in either one's ammo. Laser and plasma guns use some type of battery, though. Surprise, no orginium either."

"Have they been able to study those?" Rangers asked.

"Not yet," Liskarm answered. "They'll be delivering samples of the ammo to Closure for study while we're away. Unfortunately, a local mafia gang managed to steal some of the gear before Exusiai and Six raided their hideout and reclaimed it. It's possible they've been able to transmit their findings to their superiors before the attack."

"So someone could already be aware of our quarry's alien status."

"Or at least realizes that his stuff's a game-changer," Franka said. "Penguin Logistics is also doing some research on the gang. Apparently, they aren't Siracusean locals."

"They're not?" Schwarz asked.

"Nope. They're really a cell from a bigger group out west. My money's on Columbia."

Schwarz frowned. Drudge had connections to a Colombian company during the Originium Dust incident. Volvort Kochinski, if the papers they dug up afterward were correct. Could that same corporation be sniffing around for their Courier?

"Croissant had an interview with this stranger, correct?" Rangers asked. "Did she learn anything else from him?"

"Apart from some names sounding awfully similar to those mentioned by Rainbow Team, not much," Liskarm said. "Although he has made some… strange claims about his land's economy."

"Dare I ask?"

"His people use bottle caps as money," Franka said brusquely.

Rangers and Schwarz were bewildered by this. "Bottle caps?" Schwarz could barely contain her disbelief. "Our quarry uses bottle caps… as currency?"

"That begs all sorts of questions," Rangers adds.

"We're here folks," announced the pilot.

Sure enough, the ramp lowered itself, revealing a dusty old settlement. To the majority of the party, it was just a shanty town. But to Mudrock, it was a familiar sight. One that made her heart skip a beat. This one lost comrades- friends- trying to get to this place. And she was ready to die for the survivors the last time she was here. She wondered if any of them were still around.

"Mudrock here knows the area and locals," Franka explained to her team. "She's gonna catch up with them while we do some searching in the nearby ruins out east."

"Do we have any intel on those?" Schwarz asked.

"Just they're the ruins of some towns. Supposedly they're casualties of the civil war here. Think their names were… Staubstadt and Ascheufer? Something along the lines of those. Staubstadt should be relatively safe to travel through, but Asheufer's a literal biohazard. Apparently, it was a dumping ground for toxic waste during the civil war. Everybody got their Geiger counters on hand?"

Everybody nodded.

"Awesome. Ceylon, you stay here and start setting up some medical equipment. The rest of us are heading to Staubstadt. It's within walking distance, so don't worry about working overnight. We'll spend the night here and make another sweep in the morning. Any questions?"

Ceylon raised her hand. "Excuse me Miss Franka, but… where do I fit into all of this? What's my purpose if you all are out adventuring without me?"

"Our away team might need some patching up when they get back. And uh… no offense, but a dress isn't practical for walking around some ruins."

Ceylon lowered her hand. She got her there.

"Don't worry, you've got an entire village to keep you company. Speaking of which, some of the folk appear to be Infected. This is a great opportunity to hone your medical skills. Alright, enough talk. Let's get to work!"

Everybody split off. The away team ventured into the wild while everyone else ran to the village. Schwarz cast one last look at Ceylon before joining the rest of the squad. Sighing in disappointment, she looked back at the cargo. Most of it was standard medical equipment. Beds, IV lines, surgical tools. She walked over to the pilot's door and knocked on it.

"Excuse me, sir. Could you please lend me a hand?"

He didn't notice her. He had some headphones on and was playing some games on a tablet. She knocked on the door and politely asked for his help again. Again he didn't notice her. She lost her patience and started banging on it. Not even that got his attention. She pouted and began her grueling chore alone. No one to keep her company, no one to compare notes with…

Or so she thought. Mudrock walked past her without warning and into the dropship. To say that she had a heart attack was an understatement. She calmed down once she saw the Sarkaz unloading the cargo. Piece by piece she carried it all out, from a generator to several crates of supplies. She often forgot how strong Mudrock truly was.

When all the heavy lifting was finished, Ceylon went to work on setting up her makeshift lab. Microscopes, doctor's bags, IV lines, some stretchers, a couple of folding tables, a laptop. The last thing to do was to flick on the external generator and attach a solar battery to it. It'll at least serve as a backup in case the originium cell ran dry.

"Thank you, Miss Mudrock," Said Ceylon with a smile.

Mudrock gave a quick nod, then gestured towards the village. Ceylon followed after her. Something felt off about this place. They passed by some market stalls but most of them appeared to be closed. Whatever people were outside had their hands hovering over their weapons. There were even a few snipers and bowmen in some makeshift watchtowers, with working spotlights.

The people's eyes followed the broad figure as she walked. Most of them tried to hide from her sight. Others just froze up, unsure of what to do. A few in combat gear waved or even saluted her as she strode past them. She paid them no mind. She had a particular soul in mind right now.

After several minutes of fruitless searching, though, she was forced to ask strangers for directions. It took a few tries but she eventually found someone who knew her friend. The villager led them to a rundown house filled to the brim with beds. They were all full. Mudrock rushed to a sleeping Caprinae with pointed ears and originium shards on his right cheek.

"Brändle," Mudrock said, shaking his shoulder.

The man didn't wake. She shook harder, this time rattling the whole bed. That woke him up real quick. He rose up in a bolt, spinning his head around like mad and speaking at a pace that'd rival Shaw. When he calmed down and looked at his visitors, he blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Herr Mudrock?" the Caprinae muttered. "Is zhat really you? Or am I still dreaming?"

Ceylon pinched his arm. "Oi!" he shouted. "Knock it off."

"That's a no then," Ceylon giggled.

Ceylon took a closer look at the Caprinae. His skin was rather pale and there were fresh bandages over his torso. An arm was in a bind while an IV line was hooked into his other one. Mudrock brought a couple of chairs over, setting them on each side. She and Ceylon picked their seats and plopped down.

The man grumbled before turning back to glance at Mudrock. "Didn't expect you to come back here."

"Neither did I," the Defender confessed. "But something urgent has come up. Do you know a 'Courier Six', by any chance? Or at least seen someone carrying a collection of firearms?"

The man raised an eyebrow at the question. "Uh, ja. Ve had a visitor with zhat name a few days ago. Strange kerl. Had scars on his forehead and asked us elementary questions. Didn't even know what the bloody hell originium was. Originium!"

The two women looked at each other with concerned faces (Or at least Ceylon's was visibility concerned).

"What kind of arms are we talking about?" Mudrock asked. "Which ones did he actually use?"

"A couple of pistols and a slightly larger gun. Latter had a curved clip, vas rapid fire. One of ze pistols spat vhis glowing green goop too. The rest are probably just trophies he collected. Why the sudden interest in him? Something happened to him?"

"You could say that. The Messenger I sent said that he helped her defend this village. Were those injuries from that fight?"

"Wha-? Nichts da! I took cover like any sane man during that firefight. Vhese came from a couple of days ago. My kumpels and I went to Staubstadt to scavenge for supplies vhen someone opened fire on us. Got a couple of bullets lodged into my back and one in me arm."

"Bullets?!"

"Yep," said another voice. "Genuine bullets."

The two ladies turned to see an elderly Sarkaz woman beside a patient. She was wearing an old nurse's outfit, bearing a worn-out emblem on her sleeve. Something resembling a mountain or a drill inside of a triangle. For some reason, it was giving the Operators a sense of Deja vu.

".308 rounds to be exact," she continued. "Haven't seen these since the civil war. Of course, Brändle here isn't the worst for wear today."

She moved aside so that the ladies could see her patients. Both instinctively covered their mouth as they saw his condition. Several portions of a Liberi- including half of his face- appeared to have been melted into fleshy lumps. An eyepatch was hung over the ruined side of his face. One of his arms appeared to be missing while the other ended in a webbed hand. The skin and nerves on the surviving limb were probably fused together. All of his hair and feathers appeared to have fallen off too.

Another patient- a Perro- was lying beside him. His condition wasn't as severe, but not a pretty sight to behold either. He was covered in various lesions, along with burnt skin. It looked like someone had placed a hot iron on him and left it there to sizzle. He was relatively intact, apart from some missing hair.

The third one-a Sarkaz- was the sickliest of the trio. His skin was dry and pale pink, much of which appeared to be blistering or even flaking off. Barely any hair remained on his scalp, revealing blistered flesh and scarred tissue. He was barely coherent, taking dry and raspy breaths. His eyes were just as dry as his throat. Several bloody rags and some soiled clothing were laying in buckets next to the bed.

"These three were with Brändle when shit hit the fan. Marius claimed that he was caught in a green explosion. Olegario said he got pelted with some red beams. Albert…"

She shook her head, trying to hold back some tears. "My son can barely even speak. His blood pressure's low, he's got a high fever, he refuses to eat, there's blood in his vomit and stools!"

She looked down and closed her eyes, balling up her fists. "He's just a mess. The most info I got was that he got hit by some weird yellowish glow."

Brändle nodded. "Whole thing screams of Arts if you ask me. Sniper fire, energy blasts. Must be some Casters hiding out in the ruins."

"Why would Casters be in Staubstadt?" Ceylon asked.

Brändle shrugs. "To pillage it, I'd expect. Plenty of Casters have joined up vith raider gangs out here. Wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Still, for someone to wield a working gun…"

Ceylon looked back at the three patients from earlier. The son in particular stirred up several emotions.

"Would you mind if I examined these men?" Ceylon offered, pointing at Albert. "Perhaps I can get to the bottom of your son's condition."

The elder smiled. "Be my guest. Been a long time since a medical professional came along."

Ceylon rose and straightened her skirt out before running back to the dropship. A minute later she returned and sat a doctor's bag beside her patient. She laid out her tools onto a stand and took out some protective gear. She slipped on a facemask, a fresh pair of gloves, and an apron. Then she picked up a syringe and drew up something from a vial. She gave the instrument a couple of flicks.

"Hope they aren't afraid of needles," she teased.

Mudrock turned back to Brändle. "Did anyone else manage to catch a glimpse of Six's face?" Mudrock asked him.

"Plenty. You want someone to draw a picture of it?"

Mudrock nodded. Brändle blew a whistle with his fingers and someone came running. It was a younger Sarkaz girl.

"Ja, Bra-?" she started asking before her eyes fell onto Mudrock. She gasped and a couple of steps back.

"It's okay lassie," Brändle assured her. "She and the Liberi are friendly."

''She'?" she asked in disbelief, pointing at the armored figure. "What do they want with him?"

"Just a sketch of the gunslinger zhat came by recently."

The girl started casting looks between her and Ceylon. Mudrock reached for her helmet and removed it. Every villager's jaw dropped when they saw her actual face. Mudrock smiled softly as she leveled her face to the younger Sarkaz's.

"We believe that he is in danger," she explained. "But we do not know what he looks like underneath his helmet. We need to find him before he or someone else gets hurt."

The girl stood there, processing the information. She cast a look at Ceylon, drawing blood and injecting medicine into her friends. The Liberi looked back at her and offered a gentle smile before resuming her work.

"Okay…" she relented.

She picked up a pencil and started drawing on the nearest sheet of paper.

---

Date: Late December 1096

Location: Chernoberg

Time: Uncertain, conditions cloudy. Post-Catastrophe fallout.

Fire. Smoke. Obsidian. Grey Clouds. Crimson bolts. From an outsider's perspective, hell has broken loose. To the natives, though, it is simply a force of nature. A hellish force, yes, but natural nonetheless. Catastrophes are seen as the embodiment of chaos and destruction. They do not yield to anyone or anything. Many people obviously fear them for this. A select few admire this indomitable trait of theirs, though. One group went as far as to weaponize them.

Crownslayer walked along the streets of Chernoberg. Years ago she was just as fervent a patriot as the average Ursus citizen. Sure her Lupo blood earned her some ire from the local Ursine population, but her family earned a place among the scientific elite. Then they were betrayed. Her father died in an 'accident' while two traitors got away scot-free. She and her mother fled to Siracusa to hide from the Ursus autocracy.

And ever since then, she stewed with anger and resentment. Anger at the world for her Oripathy, at Ursus for the slaughter of her father and his colleagues. She trained in the arts of the Wolf to grow stronger, to obtain the power to enact her vengeance. Her mentor said that she wasn't strong enough yet, that Ursus was a monster not to be trifled with.

She and Reunion proved her wrong today. So what if the Emperor retaliates? He was a coward surrounded by backstabbing, decadent autocrats. Let them come! Let them taste the wrath of the Infected. Hell, let them become Infected. See how they fare with their bodies turning into living crystals!

The streets were drowning in the howls of strife. People trampled over one another trying to escape, police battling civilians and rioters. Many of them died screaming, begging for mercy. There wouldn't be any for the natives today. Not with their treatment of the Infected. Those who oppressed the Infected, those who turned a blind eye- hell, even those who simply watched from the sidelines- were being punished for their atrocities.

But truth be told, that wasn't her initial reason for joining Reunion. Sure, it felt good to fight for the Infected, but it was never her main agenda. Her real goal was to hunt down the ones who betrayed her father. She had already disposed of one of them. She had to find the other. She had to reach his own employer, Kal'tsit.

A few days ago, a group calling themselves Rhodes Island snuck into Chernoberg to retrieve a mysterious figure. She had no idea who the asshole was, but she had a hunch as to who their co-worker was. From what her underlings told her, Rhodes Island has recently docked at Great Lungsmen. That's where she'll find the bitch.

She reached her rendezvous point. Ahead of her were the other lieutenants of the Reunion. The hulking Patriot, the mad Mephisto, the graceful Frostnova, the silent Faust, and great Talulah. Crownslayer knelt down before their chieftain.

"Lady Talulah," Crownslayer greeted.

Talulah didn't smile. She hasn't in a long time. "What news do you bring me," she asked.

"Nothing much. The cowardly chernonites continue their struggle against our righteous might. Those that haven't fled are in hiding or already dead. Morale among our troops is at an all-time high."

The woman's expression remained blank. "Excellent. Today we march onto Great Lungsmen."

"So soon?" Crownslayer asked. "What about logistics? Do we have any intelligence on the city and its defenses?"

"Of course. Do you take me for a fool?"

There was a strange hiss in her tone. Like something sizzling.

"No ma'am," Crownslayer replied. "Forgive me, I spoke out of line."

"You were merely concerned, caught off guard. I cannot blame you for your reaction. But rest assured, I have taken every variable into account."

"Even Rhodes Island?"

Talulah's features shifted slightly. "...even them," she said. "We march for Great Lungsmen in three days. You on the other hand will infiltrate the city immediately. Rendezvous with our spies and maintain communications with Mephisto and Frostnova."

Crownslayer nodded and turned to depart when she heard a sizzling sound. She turned back to see her leader and the other lieutenants… petrified. She blinked and took a couple of steps back. Had they succumbed to their Oripathy? No, the substance coating them didn't resemble originium. It looked like… ash? One by one the other lieutenants crumbled. Only Talulah remained, and not long afterward she broke free from her prison.

Crownslayer's eyes widened as she stumbled back. Lesions started appearing over Talulah's skin. The originium on her body took on a green glow and was warping into jagged shapes. Her skin was now brick-red and splitting open, revealing more emerald shards. Most of her muscle mass faded away, giving her a vaguely skeletal look. Her eyes lost their color, reduced to pale-white orbs bulging out of their sockets. She looked like a goddamned zombie now.

Bat-like wings burst out from her shoulder blades, just as rotten and boney as the rest of her. Flames surrounded her mutated form and she charged at Crownslayer. The girl broke off into a sprint and ran down the streets as fast as she could. The monster had taken flight and was throwing fireballs at her. Crimson clouds were forming around her. No, not clouds. A Catastrophe.

She tripped over something and rolled across the street. When she stopped, she looked up to see a figure in a gas mask. They were dual-wielding grenade launchers.

"Skullshatter?" She breathed.

The figure split into two. One of the duplicates had a slightly masculine build, the other with more feminine features.

"Murderer," the twins snarled. "Our father was only trying to protect us, and you cut him down."

"He killed mine!" Crownslayer snapped back. "He was a traitor!"

"Is that the truth," taunted a voice above. "Or just projection?"

Crownslayer looked up to see a diseased dragon soaring above. The voice sounded deeper and distorted, but she recognized it all the same. It was Talulah. She landed before the Lupo.

"You were rather eager to chase after Kal'tsit," The dragon noted. "You left these children in the hands of an unstable devil. You abandoned Faust and Frostnova when they launched their assault. You allowed Patriot to throw away his life in this necropolis. You even let Mephisto's puppets run amok in both cities. So tell me; who is the real traitor?"

Her men surrounded and cornered her against some ruins. They and the twins now had green spikes growing out of their bodies. Everybody removed their masks to reveal dead white orbs and charred skin. The stench of ashes and rising temperatures besieged her senses as they boxed her in. They all charged at her as Talulah unleashed her fire breath.

---

Date: October 3rd, 1099

Location: Chernoberg core city

Time: 9 AM

Lyudmila awoke with a jolt. She was panting and sweating like crazy, eyes darting around the room. The memories came rushing back to her. Her return to Chernoberg, her run-in with Six and ED-E, the mercs, the Catastrophe. She clutched her head as that last one replayed in her mind. Nothing but vertigo and pain.

Oh yeah. She remembered. The Boar crashed. But how did I end up in… an ambulance?

She looked around. She was indeed in an ambulance. But the interior seemed worn out. She looked down to see a blanket over her body. A peek under revealed why; she was completely naked, save for the bandages wrapping around her torso and limbs. She impulsively clutched the blanket closer to her chest and looked around frantically. She glanced back down at herself. There wasn't any blood between her legs, and her hips felt fine. So she wasn't violated while she was unconscious. She found her clothes on the floor, next to some sewing materials.

A beeping sound caught her attention. That metal eyeball floated into the vehicle and beeped at her. She remembered that thing. It was Six's robot. What did he call it? Eddy? She clutched her blanket harder.

"What the hell do you want?" she snapped. "Can't you give me some privacy?"

The robot emitted some bleeps and bloops. She had no idea what the hell it just said to her. She noticed a tray with some bloodied tools on it. The table had a microscope and some test tubes. A slide had already been placed under the lenses. Probably the handy work of her mysterious doctor. She had three guesses as to who.

"Where's your master?" she asked.

The robot drifted out of the ambulance van and pointed with its blaster. She slid off of the stretcher and onto her feet. As soon as she took her first step, though, she collapsed. Hellfire licked at her legs and flared through her bones. She growled as she crawled across the floor, trying to ignore the pain. Just as soon as she reached her clothes, a light fell onto her naked body.

Stepping into the ambulance was Six. In one hand he had a wrench, the other a pistol. That PDA of his was emitting a bright green light, nearly blinding her. Lyudmila covered up her womanly features as much as possible. Her face was now tomato red.

"Gah! Duratskiy izvrashchenets!" Lyudmila cursed. "Keep your damn hands off of me!"

Six sheathed his weapons and held up his hands defensively. "Hey hey, these hands are the reason you're alive," he retorted. "If I wanted to, I could've let you bleed to death in the car back there."

"You fucking stripped me."

"To get to the wounds and treat them properly. Seriously, that's medicine 101!"

"Then why aren't I in a gown, huh?"

"Do you see any lying around? I was just lucky to even find a clean blanket to cover you."

Lyudmila couldn't find a snappy response to that one. She growled and looked away from the wanderer. "Just give me some privacy for a minute," she requested.

"You just tripped and fell," Six noted. "At least lemme toss ya a painki-"

"Just. Go."

Six made a small 'tsk' sound. "[Lady Killer] Alright, hot stuff," he sarcastically replied. "Since you're such a badass-"

She threw a dagger at him before he could finish his retort, forcing him to duck. She was not in the mood for his sarcasm right now. Six sighed and skedaddled out of sight. The robot followed suit and beeped a coy series of code at him. She smiled when she heard a 'shut up' not long afterward.

She examined her clothes. To her astonishment, there was hardly any wear or tear on them. She had to squint her eyes to pick out the patches and stitchwork. Redressing herself was a slow process, but she eventually got her clothes back on. The pain subsided during the struggle too, so she was able to exit the vehicle without embarrassing herself any further. Six was camping nearby, sitting crisscrossed.

The first thing that caught her attention was the pieces of armor on the ground. She could be seeing things, but there appeared to be tech inside. Gyroscopes, hydraulics, shock absorbers. She'd seen stuff like that on Patriot's armor. What did the troops call it? 'Exo-skeletons'? 'Powered Armor'?

Among the pieces were a couple of brown suits with hydraulics and ports attached to them. Each one had a matching hood lying not far from them. But the thing that caught her eye was these helmets. One seemed alien, with buglike eyes, three tubes, a couple of bulbs, and a filter. Another was rounder, had a slit, two tubes, a headlight, and a drop-down optic. The former sent shivers down her spine, while the latter seemed more heroic.

Six was installing something into each of them. She looked down to see the dismantled remains of some hazmat suits. The same ones used by Ursus' Infected Patrol Units. Where the hell did he find those? Now that she thought about it, his suit looked a bit different. There was a tube connecting to his helmet now.

"What's this?" she asked, pointing at the dissected gear.

"Something I found in this APC," Six replied, pointing at an armored vehicle with a thumb.

She followed the finger to see an armored personnel carrier not far from their position. She raised an eyebrow. She didn't recall seeing any of those when Reunion struck.

"Been working on my gear while you slept. With the apocalypse above us, I figured now was a good time to upgrade."

"Upgrade? You mean none of… this was designed with Originium filters?"

"Nope. Their framework was designed with warfare in mind, not dealing with hazardous materials. How long does a Catastrophe last?"

"Beats me. I'm not a Catastrophe Messenger," Lyudmila replied. "Could be hours. Maybe days."

Six growled. "Then at least fill me in on the details," Six asked. "Where exactly are we going?"

"To the capitol building. My father's workplace lies underneath."

Six glanced back up at her. "Wait, under the capitol building? Your dad worked for the government?"

Lyudmila didn't respond. A minute passed and still nothing. Six sighed and resumed his tinkering. After a couple of minutes, something else occurred to him.

"Can we access his workspace from this level," Six asked. "Or are we gonna have to go to the surface?"

"If you're asking about any hidden entrances, there is a bunker near the place. But if we can't get into that, then we have to try the front doors. That'd mean climbing back onto the surface. Are those the only hazmat suits in that carrier?"

"No, there's still some left. Go on ahead and grab yourself one. I should be done with the finishing touches by the time you suit up."

Lyudmila nodded and walked over to the six-wheeled vehicle. There were some crates inside. Some of them carried weapons, but their serial numbers were scratched off. Hastily too, judging from the pattern. The one she was looking for held some suitcases. Opening one up revealed the signature suit of the Infected Patrol Unit. Her blood boiled just looking at it. Why was any of this here?

She shook her head. Now was not the time to let her emotions cloud her. She dressed herself up and walked back out of the carrier. She was a bit surprised to see Eddy picking the armor pieces with its tractor beam. She was even more surprised to see it stuff them into its chassis. The armor seemed to… shrink or disappear from her perspective. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Six must've noticed because he let out a nervous chuckle.

"How…"

"Trade secret," was all she was going to get. "You ready?" Six asked.

Lyudmila nodded. She took the lead while Six and Eddy covered the rear. The storm outside still rumbled above their heads. She prayed that it'll have dispersed by the time they reach the capitol building. With her luck, though, it probably won't.

---

Date: October 1st, 1099

Location: Staubstadt, Kazdel

Time: 4:03 PM

Franka didn't know what she was expecting when they entered Staubstadt. A band of raiders? An intact town? Nope. Just the remains of a warzone. Bodies of civilians and soldiers all around them, still retaining their tails and horns. Worn tents and rotting powerline poles stood proudly against the elements. Barriers such as barbed wires and sandbags surrounded the area.

It hardly resembled a town, much less a 'developed' settlement. No vehicles, no market stalls, no working power, no aqueducts or farms, no radio towers. Okay maybe the one on the outskirts counted, but it was rusty as shit. Much of the infrastructure needed to identify this as a settlement was either torn down or never existed. Just another sad reminder of Kazdel's impoverished state. And as far as the world's leaders were concerned, it was better that way. Franka couldn't help but pity the Sarkaz.

She looked at the assembled team before her. They had a mad engineer, Kal'tsit's personal hellhound, two explorers, a robot, a greenhorn, the world's deadliest assassin, a veteran lizard, and Franka's longtime partner. They were all chosen for this mission for a good reason. Time to put them to work.

Franka opened up her pouch and handed a brownish vambrace to Projekt Red. "Red, give this a good sniff and start tracking. Sesa, accompany her."

The two Operators nodded and went off into the distance.

"Castle and Jessica, go check out the border between Staubstadt and Ascheufer. Magallan, spread your bots out and have them scan the whole town. Cliffheart and Schwarz, cheek out that radio tower we passed by. Rangers and Liskarm, take a peek in some of the tents. If you see anything out of place, radio me or Magallan."

Everybody nodded, scattering to the wind. Franka and Magallan propped up some chairs from a ruined house, dusting them. Magallan took a seat and brought up her PDA. Franka on the other hand wasn't in the mood to sit. She spent too much time cooped up in that dropship. She wanted to stretch her limbs, so she patrolled the imminent area.

Magallan occasionally looked up from her tablet to admire the skies. Some clouds were beginning to form in the distance. Her mind was conjuring up all sorts of images in her head, trying to find something to compare the phenomena to. A Burden Beast, Emperor's face, Surströmming, a snow globe-

A burst of static broke off her concentration. Jessica's voice popped up on her handheld radio. "H-hello?" she meekly answered.

"Maggy here," Magallan said. "Something wrong?"

"I… I found a dead body here. It's fresh."

Magallan raised an eyebrow and switched to another window on her tablet. It was a radar app, forming a crude map of the town. There were several pulsing dots on it, each with its own colorscheme. She tapped on Jessica's and with another push of a button sent a drone to her position. She switched on the machine's camera to get a good look at the catgirl and her quarry. She instantly regretted it and dropped the tablet with a gag, falling to the ground.

That caught Franka's attention. She sprinted off to Magallan's seat and helped the penguin-lass onto her feet. Just as she was about to ask what happened, her eyes caught sight of the PDA. And in that instant, she saw what disturbed her. It was a dead body, just a few days old judging from the rate of decay. What shocked her was the utter lack of clothes. And horns. And tail. Extra ears. And all those holes in its body.

Jessica gently grabbed the drone and turned it around some. There were more like it, each having a different skin color, eye color, gender, hair color, physique. Yet none of them appeared to have any indicators of their actual race. They were essentially blank slates. Well, apart from the varying degrees of injuries they suffered.

The majority of them had some holes in their bodies. The shapes hardly matched any arrows or bolts Rhodes Island has come across, let alone having the actual projectile lodged into them. There weren't any burn marks or anything of similar nature on them either. Franka put a hand on her chin.

"Bullet wounds," she concluded. "All of them were shot with real bullets. Jessica, have you seen any casings nearby?

"No," the catgirl confirmed.

"Then you might need to collect some samples from our Jane and John Does."

There was a pause. "You mean, with my f-fingers?"

"Unless you can find a better tool, then yes. Don't worry, you've got gloves on."

Jessica gulped. "O-kay."

Those weren't the only injuries on the bodies, though. Some of them were missing their limbs and/or heads too. There were some slits on some of the bodies too. The handy work of a sharp blade. Franka had seen that particular mark more times than she could count. But one thing was bugging her; why the hell were they naked? Now that she thought about it, where was their gear? Crossbows, arrows, swords. Any wanderer worth his money would at least bring some type of protection with them.

Jessica finished digging into the corpses and held out two bullet casings. One of them was 9mm, the other 5.56mm. Their quarry reportedly used the latter cartridge, but so did many others. Still, the bodies did somewhat match the description of the Courier. Could they have been from his homeworld?

"Jessica, Castle should have some bodybags with him. Grab a couple and bag two of the blanks. One of each gender."

Jessica nodded and called for the robot. Yet it didn't heed her summons, let alone answer her. Magallan commanded the drone to search the area, but all it found were some tire tracks. They just abruptly ended at the border between ruins. His transponder wasn't showing up on the screen either. Neither Operator liked where this was going.

"Jessica, stay where you are, I'm coming ov-"

There was a 'whoosh!' sound on the PDA. Static consumed the camera feed before it went dark. More of those sounds went off on the radio before it too went silent. Magallan's features darkened. Franka didn't bother to ask what the hell just happened. She sped off toward Jessica's position as fast as her legs would allow her. Magallan rose from her seat to give chase, but several more beeping sounds caused her to shift her focus. She looked back at the PDA to see a more disturbing sight.

One by one her drones' cameras went offline. One had crossed into Ascheufer and was struck down by a scarred hand. An equally warped foot and a snarl were the last things the machine picked up before it was seemingly crushed. Another window was flooded with a green light before it went offline. She heard a brief crackling sound in another window before static filled it. Then silence fell. The last one had its propeller shot off, judging by the 'whoosh!' and accompanying 'snap!' A boot crashing down was the last image it transmitted.

Magallan gulped. She glanced around nervously. She was utterly alone now, vulnerable. And an unseen assailant was quick to pounce on this opportunity. Something small and fast pricked her in the leg. She bent down and yanked out what appeared to be a dart. Just as she brought it to her face, vertigo kicked. She collapsed to the ground in a sluggish heap, barely able to keep her eyes open. The last thing she saw before the curtains closed was a humanoid shape waltzing up to her… and then its boot slammed onto her face.

---

Meanwhile…

Somewhere else within the ruins, Projekt Red and Sesa were conducting their own investigation. Under normal circumstances, Sesa would prattle away about some hidden Truth or power. Red wasn't that much of a conversationalist, of course, so he didn't bother to open his mouth. His mind was running laps around the world, though.

Franka had been kind enough to fill him in on the details of their mission. He was among the researchers that analyzed Rainbow Team's firearms and was the one who modified them. For him to accompany the squad that first encountered said group raised many red flags in his book. He was one of the few Operators privy to Rainbow Team's alien nature. To learn that another of their kind had made their way here- and was packing more firepower than all of them combined… honestly created a tsunami of emotions within him.

Fascination and excitement were the edges of the storm, while fear served as its eye. Terra's political theater was already on shaky ground. He and his brother were on the verge of creating an arms race with their research before it was 'lost' in a fire. The idea that some gunslinger was flashing alien technology around was even more concerning. If any of Terra's more ambitious cabals got their hands on it, reverse-engineered and mass-produced it… Even he shuddered.

Everyone presumes that he is a madman. To a certain extent that is true. Challenging the laws of nature and physics is part of his job after all. And while he loved some good fireworks here and there, he'd rather not set the world on fire. And he certainly had no intention of letting anyone else do so either.

Red stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air. She ran off into the distance without warning, forcing Sesa to chase after her. They eventually stopped at a clearing, drowning in junk and scrap. Yet it felt out of place for some reason. None of it resembled anything the local Sarkaz would use. Blocky terminals, electric hotplates, refrigerators, broken chemistry sets, intercoms, coffee makers. Hell, even relics like typewriters. There were also sinks and toilets lying around, but the records didn't mention running water ever being established here.

Sesa's boot bumped against something metallic. He looked down to see a strange, blocky slab of metal with a handle and wires. What the hell was that? Some type of rifle? He picked it up and examined the grip. There was a trigger on it, but he didn't see any slots for ammo. And though he wasn't skilled in the field of Arts, he could at least sense the originium in most firearms. Not on this mystery object.

He pulled the trigger. To his astonishment, it produced a red beam. He brought his hand over to the 'barrel' of the weapon. He could feel some heat around the tip. Maybe even some hot air venting too. He hovered his hand around the device for any more heat. The yellow cylinder was warm to the touch. He fired the weapon again. Same results. He sheathed the strange machine with his grenade launcher. He'll study it more when he has the chance. Right now he needs to find his partner.

Projekt Red was standing at a clearing in the town. There were several bodies and chunks of Originium around her. The former wasn't all that unusual, given the Sarkaz people's divided status. But the latter felt off, wrong even. They were giving off this strange green vapor or energy. Red's nose was pointing at the clouds, still sniffing. Resting in one hand was that brown vambrace. Her other one held what appeared to be a soldering iron. While the skeletons were nothing to write home about, the more recent ones struck him as odd. Most of them either had more holes than Leithanian cheese or some serious burns on their bodies. Actually, scratch that, some of them appear to have melted.

Sesa approached the young girl but ended up tripping over something like a buffoon. He looked down to see another rifle, this one bearing a more familiar shape. It looked like a carbine, not unlike some Sankta craftsmanship. But it was worn and scratched as if it had never been dusted off. The man didn't feel any Originium in it or its clip. He pulled the trigger as he aimed at some soda bottle on a rock. It exploded into glass shards.

This was from Rainbow Team's world. But what about the laser weapon? They didn't mention anything like that existing back in their homeland. Then his eyes caught sight of a third rifle. Well, more like a prop from a sci-fi movie. There was a bulb or vacuum tube where the barrel should be. At the bottom just in front of the trigger was a slot for another of those yellow cells. He aimed at some garbage and pulled the trigger. It was reduced to a glowing green puddle. Sesa's nose picked up a faint smell too. Was that ozone?

Sesa sheathed both weapons on his back and walked closer to Red. This time he was paying more attention to his steps. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his fellow Operators any further after that little stumble. He could make out some labels on that vambrace as he got closer; Pipboy. Model 3000.

Then his Geiger counter started clicking. He pulled it out of his pocket and began waving it around. It was getting a small reaction to the vambrace. It wasn't the only radioactive thing, though. Sesa followed his device to one of the strange Originium chucks. It was clicking even louder now. Sesa took a few steps back and ran back to Red. She was glaring at the sky when he approached her.

"Careful, little lady," he cautioned. "We've got a bit of a biohazard on our hands."

She didn't respond.

"What's the matter, red hood?" he asked. "Lost the trail?"

She kept staring at the sky. "Trail starts here," she said.

"Come again?"

"Trail continues into the sky. About a couple of meters above us. Strange man appeared above and fell from here. But…"

"But what?" Sesa asked once more. "Did someone else come along with him?"

Red motioned for Sesa to follow him. She led him to the remains of a building, probably an office. Inside were several dead bodies. Naked bodies. Sesa gagged at the sight.

"My god," he said. "How long have those been there?"

"Days," Red replied. "Maybe a week. Hard to tell in this environment. Temperature affects the rate of decay."

Sesa noticed something off about some of the bodies. While the majority of them could easily be identified as Sarkaz, the rest were a complete mystery. No extra ears or horns to identify their race. No tails either. Red pointed at another body nearby. This one was shriveled, to the point where it may as well have been a skeleton. There were several holes in its chest, plus another between the eyes. Both its hands and teeth were stained with a crimson coating. Sesa looked back at a featureless John Doe. There were some nasty-looking scratches on the chest, along with what appeared to be bite marks. Didn't take a genius to see what transpired over here. But where were their weapons and clothes?

The Lupo's head made a sharp turn. She crouched down and drew her knife, growling.

"Company," she whispered.

Sesa took position behind some rubble and drew out his grenade launcher. Red sprinted to the door and crouched again. She peeped over it and sniffed. There was a new scent here. One she hadn't smelled in a long time. It smelled like-

There was movement just outside. Sesa fired a grenade through the doorway before Red could warn him. A yelp sounded off as the explosive collided with something metallic. When the smoke cleared, a strange shield was staring back at them. It looked like a pinwheel fused from several lumps of stone or metal slabs. The strange thing though was that it was… fragmented. Yet somehow the shards managed to stay relatively close to one another, maintaining their greater whole's general form. Some form of magnetic field or Arts? No, not Arts.

Sesa had seen that shield before. And he knew who it belonged to.

"You?" Sesa asked.

A fiery red hand waved the smoke away. Before them was a Draco (or perhaps Lung?) with red horns and pearl-white hair. Her outfit was exposing a fair amount of skin, being a narrow tube top and shorts, red and white respectively. But the biggest point of interest was the greatsword on her back. Like her shield, it was fragmented, loosely held together by an unseen force.

Nian snorted. "'You'?" she quipped. "Is that the only word in your vocabulary, or have you already forgotten my name?"

Sesa looked back at Projekt Red. "I tried to warn you," she said. "But you were too quick."

Nian snickered. "That nerd's trigger finger is quicker than your mouth? Color me impressed."

Sesa clasped his fingers on his bridge. "What do you want, Nian?" he sighed. "And why are you here of all places?"

"Well I was looking for inspiration for my next flick," Nian began. "But then I saw my fanbase prowling about and got a little curious. And who do I find? Rhodes Island's junior mad engineer-"

"Junior- why I never!"

"And Little Red Hunting Hood sniffing around a scar in the space-time continuum."

Red's brows furrowed. Nian giggled.

"Surprised?" she said. "I do have a sixth sense, you know. Comes with being a fragment of a god."

"So you know about the fellows that fell from heaven?"

Nian made a small 'tsk!' sound. "Heaven? Please, they looked like they came from a post-apocalypse flick. With a hint of retro-futurism might I add."

Sesa tilted his head. "Retro-" he started before something clicked in his head. He reached back for the goop blaster and showed it to Nian.

"Bingo," she said. "Found doohickeys like that at the border to the next town over. 'Ash field' or something?"

"Ascheufer," Projekt Red corrected her.

"Whatever. The place was a dump. Seriously, I started feeling nauseous the second I set foot there. Was gonna grab a couple of those things and use 'em as props for my movie, but then some punks tried to jump me. You can guess how that played out for them."

"You didn't leave any of them alive for interrogation?" Sesa asked. "Did your prey happen upon or hear about a 'Courier Six' by any chance? Or a floating robot?"

"Nope. And I didn't hear anything about some delivery boy. Although…" she put a hand on her chin. "They did mention something about robots."

That piqued Sargonian's interest. "Oh?" he asked. "What did they say?"

"Not much. Sounded like they were hunting for some when-"

Something small flew past her elbow. She spun around and blocked a hail of bullets with her shield just in time. She then ran into the building and took up a defensive stance. Projekt Red took on a more offensive one while Sesa reloaded his grenade launcher. And they were all in for a surprise when their assailant revealed themselves.

It was a spherical robot, but not like the one reportedly with the Courier. No, this one was larger and had three eyestalks and three arms. One of the limbs ended in a buzzsaw, another in an SMG, and a pincer for the third. It had a forest green color scheme and a white star printed on its chassis. And the voice that came out of its voicebox was that of a stereotypical drill sergeant.

"Aha!" shouted the machine. "I knew I smelled Communists around here!"

---

Meanwhile…

It took a good minute for her to reach Jessica's position, but she finally arrived at the scene. It was more or less exactly as she saw on the drone's camera feed. But the catgirl was nowhere in sight. She did find the machine, or rather, its remains. She knelt down and began examining it.

While the machine was in pieces, she did notice some clues. First of all, there were traces of smoke or powder inside of it. She took up a fragment and brushed some of it off. It was an ash-gray, not unlike the smokeless 'gunpowder' from Rainbow Team's arms. Certainly carried their scent too. She also noticed something within the shard; a perfect circle. This was a bullet wound. And the projectile in question was lodged into another fragment of the chassis' shell.

Franka picked the piece up and plucked the bullet off. It was a .308 round. Something flashed in the distance ahead, briefly blinding her. She felt something- someone- tackle her as a gunshot went off. Her vision cleared to reveal Jessica right on top of her. Franka blinked.

"Jessica?" she asked. "What's going-?"

The Feline shushed her and helped her onto her feet. Franka was about to ask another question when she heard footsteps. Jessica led Franka into a ruined hut nearby. Both crouched around the door and risked a peek. There were two raiders inspecting their last hiding spot. One of them was a woman in leather armor with scraps of metal strapped on. The other was a man in heavier armor. Something seemed off about it to her. His helmet matched the descriptions of the Courier's robot. Then there were their weapons. The man had a sword while the woman had a shotgun. The former was covered in flames and gave off an audible hiss.

Franka's eyes narrowed. They didn't have any distinguishing traits on them. No tails, extra ears, horns. Were they part of the same race as the John Does Jessica discovered earlier? The woman barked something at the man and sent him towards the crumbling hut. Franka's hand fell onto her hilt. She motioned for Jessica to wait, the Feline acknowledging her order with a nod.

The bastard came charging in, but he failed to check his sides. By the time he realized his mistake Jessica tackled and pinned him to the ground. Franka hacked off his sword arm with her blade and brought it down on his neck. The lady outside heard the commotion and was running to his aid. Both girls slipped out via some windows and crept up on her as she inspected the fresh corpse. A bullet from Jessica dug through her neck and she slumped. She was dead before her body hit the floor.

Franka shimmied up through some nearby rubble and peeked her head out. A bullet whizzed between her fox ears, forcing her back behind cover. She looked back at Jessica. The greener merc pointed at her smoke grenades with an inquisitive look. Franka could see where this was going. She gave the girl a smirk and a nod of approval.

Priming the explosive, Jessica threw it over her cover. Their assailant tried to shoot out of the air but they missed. A thick smokescreen covered the area ahead. Franka and Jessica made a mad dash for it with their heads down. The sniper tried to splatter their brains out, but the cloud cloaked them from his vision.

The ladies burst out of the smoke and Jessica opened fire. They doubted any of them actually hit their assailant, but it did startle them. That gave the girls extra time to find cover. And as luck would have it, they were closing in on his. It was a two-story building, its purpose lost to the sands of time. And within throwing distance of Jessica's range too.

Franka caught another glimpse of light bouncing off. And this time she was able to trace it back to its source. She spotted movement in one of the broken windows, along with a barrel. The Vulpo pointed at Jessica's grenades and then at the window. Jessica nodded and primed another smoke grenade. Their assailant was in for a shock when it landed at their feet. They heard a scream as it detonated, followed by a coughing fit. Now was their chance.

The women charged into the crumbling ruin and up the steps. There was a silhouette in the smoke, trying to wave the smoke away. Franka wasted no time and tackled him to the ground. Jessica couldn't see much initially, just hearing the struggle between sniper and Guard. When the black clouds cleared, Franka was sitting on top of a man in rusted armor and leather garbs. He had his hands cuffed behind his back.

He was just like the first two; No extra kibble. Just some plain loaf of bread in a sea of pastries. But the thing that struck Jessica as odd was his reaction. His eyes were wide with disbelief, terror even. And the words that escaped from his mouth were in an old variant of Victorian.

"What the fuck?" he uttered in terror. "What kind of mutants are you?"

Franka raised an eyebrow. "Now that's rather rude," she said as she flipped him over and propped him against a wall. "Did your ma ever teach you manners?"

The man spat at her. "Manners," he snorted. "In a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Like that'll do any g-"

He didn't have the chance to finish his sentence. The Vulpo's fist came crashing into his teeth. There was a tiny splash of blood as a tooth went rocketing off out of the window. The man snarled as he glared back at the woman.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted. "What the hell are you?"

"Just a Vulpo girl that kicked your ass," she retorted with a smirk.

"A what? The fuck is that? Some new mutant race?"

There it was again, 'mutant'.

"That's the second time you called me that," Franka noted. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

The man looked at her in disbelief. "What do I- I'm talking about those ears and tails," he snapped. "No normal human has those. Not like you freaks. Wait, are those cat ears? I thought they went extinct centuries ago!"

Now it was Jessica's turn to speak up. "Extinct?" she said. "What are you talking about? There're still cats around the world."

She spotted the man's rifle and picked it up. It didn't resemble any that she had seen before. Nor did it feel as though there was any originium in it. She found an ammo crate and peeped inside. .308 rounds. Just like the one that destroyed Magallan's drone. She sensed nothing in those either.

"Where did you find these?" she asked, trying to muster up some bravado.

The man rolled his eyes with a 'tsk!'. "Out in the wastelands, fraidy-cat," he retorted. "Same as any other person on Earth."

"Earth?"

Now the man's face was screaming 'Seriously? WTF?'

"You know, planet Earth," he replied. "The place that nuked itself over two hundred years ago?"

Franka couldn't hide her confusion. "Nuke?"

The marauder lost his patience. "JESUS H. CHRIST, HOW FUCKING RETARDED ARE YOU MONSTERS?!" he screeched. "Nuclear warheads! The shit that splits atoms and poisons the fucking world with rads!? Have you been sleeping in those fucking Vaults or something? Did Vault-Tec grow you bitches in some test tube?"

He started taking in some deep breaths. After a minute of catching his breath, he looked back at his captors.

"Where the fuck am I anyway?" he asked.

"Kazdel," Franka responded. "Now where's Castle-3?"

"The fuck is Kaz-"

Once again he was interrupted. This time by a kick in the prized jewels. The man stifled a squall to Franka's disappointment.

"I'm asking the one asking questions here, bub," she retorted. "Did you happen to see a jet-black robot on wheels? Blocky as hell, looks like a boat?"

The man narrowed his eyes, processing the information. Then a dark chuckle escaped from his lips. "Oh, that thing," he replied. "I guess so. There was a weird-looking bot being dragged off by one of ours's. Didn't look like any I've seen before. Who the hell built that? General Atomics or RobC-OOOF!"

Franka punched him in the gut. "He's our robot, asshole. Now where the hell did you take him?!"

The man calmed up. That intrigued the Guard. "Why so quiet?" she teased. "I thought you liked having a conversation."

She drew out her blade and channeled her Arts into it. The blade began to glow a fiery orange as she brought it close to the man's cheek. He was stunned, paralyzed with fear. But it was hard to tell if it was of her, or of something else. She decided to bring the blade between his legs. She could've been imagining things, but she swore the spot between his legs took on a darker shade of brown.

"Alright, alright!" the raider confessed. "That trash heap was dragged up north to our hideout! To some old bunker we dug up. The boss is probably scraping him right now!"

"And who is your boss?" Frank asked, trying to ignore a pungent smell.

Again he clammed up. But she could feel him squirm around for a bit. She tilted her head to see him grabbing something from his back pocket. She was about to turn him around to examine his goods, but it was too late. The next thing she knew, he was on top of her with his hands around his throat. He let out a savage, deranged scream at the top of his lungs. One hand began pummeling her face while the other was choking her.

He wasn't this vicious earlier. His strikes were harder, faster, more frantic. He had a maniacal look in his eyes, cackling with each punch. She was starting to suffocate under his iron grip, her vision dimming. A gun sounded off and he collapsed on top of her in a heap. She shoved the bastard off to see fresh holes in his back. She looked up to see Jessica with her pistol out.

"I… I had no choice," she said. "I'm sorry. I-"

A howl interrupted her. The girls looked to see the bastard rising back onto his feet, still crazed out of his gourd. This time Frank was ready for him, though. With a thought and a flick of her wrist, she reignited her thermite blade and swung. His head went flying off into Jessica's feet, earning her superior a startled yelp. The Feline kicked the head off of her boot and back towards Franka.

The Vulpo sighed and clenched her aching nose. She felt something warm and sticky clinging to her gloves. A taste of iron slithered down into her lips and she frowned. She was gonna have to pay Ceylon a visit when they got back. She looked back at the spot she'd been interrogating him and noticed something on the floor. She knelt down and picked up two items, though her balance was a bit off thanks to her broken nose.

Jessica ran to her side and helped her back up. Both ladies looked down to see a syringe and cap for it in the Vulpo's hand. There were two vials and an inscription on the injector. The latter read 'Psychobuff'. An apt description for the recently deceased. Was this some sort of combat drug? Jessica took out a plastic bag and handed it to Franka. She replaced the cap and bagged the drug up.

Jessica's eyes caught something around the corner. She walked over and knelt down beside a box. A box of body bags. These must be leftovers from the civil war. She grabbed one and brought it to Franka.

"Should we bring him back for an autopsy?" she asked, pointing at the fresh corpse.

Franka nodded with a smile. "Can you do the honors while I call our friends?"

The catgirl nodded and went to work. Frank brought out her handheld radio and held it up to her face. Yet before she could speak into it, another voice popped out.

"This is Sesa. We've encountered hostile units and are pinned down. Repeat, hostiles have us pinned down! Requesting back-u-"

"Nobody's coming to save you, Red Menace!" shouted another voice.

Then the transmission ended. Franka cursed under her breath. She looked over to Jessica, who just finished packing the John Doe.

"Leave the body here for now," she ordered. "We've got some Operators under fire and one MIA. Go find Liskarm and Rangers. I'm gonna lend a hand to Sesa and Red. Tell your buddies to meet up with mine up north. We're gonna need all the help we can get. We'll come back for this John Doe once the dust settles."

Jessica nodded and the two stormed out of the building. Yet if either of them looked back, they would've seen a humanoid robot standing just beside the door. A robot that cloaked itself and ran off in the opposite direction. Towards Müllstad.

---

Meanwhile…

Magallan awoke with a groan and shook her head. At first, everything was a muffled, dark blur. Then her eardrums and eyes began to readjust themselves. She was in a dark room, constructed from worn concrete. Most of the furniture had all rotten away, save for some workbenches. And she wasn't alone. There were several individuals around her. Most of them were humans with leather straps and scrap for armor, but some stood out.

There were some robots among them, but she didn't recognize any of their models. One of them looked like a walking egg with a glass window. Another was a round orb with three eyestalks and arms. But the one that shocked her the most was this seven-foot-tall armored figure. It appeared to be some sort of mechanized suit, with scrap and salvage crudely welded over it.

The other thing that shocked her was the fellow prisoner beside her. It was Castle-3, his shell shattered and many of his components lying on the ground beside him. He didn't appear to be online.

"I'm telling ya, boss," said a goon in a Columbian dialect. "That tincan doesn't match anything I've ever seen. I've worked with General Atomics before the bombs, and let me tell you; this ain't their handiwork."

Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting some more and she narrowed them. This man had some really wrinkled skin and beady black eyes. He didn't have horns or pointed ears like some races usually did. Was he a Vampire?

"Have any of our scouts reported back yet?" asked the armored titan. There was a gruff yet feminine voice behind it.

"Not yet."

The iron maiden muttered something under her breath as she crossed her arms. She glanced back at Magallan and noticed her lucid state. She started waltzing towards her with a sinister gait.

"Well well well, look who finally woke up," sneered the warrior.

Magallan froze up as the power-armored monster drew closer to her. "Strange company you keep," she said. "Rovers, flying ice cubes, mutants."

Magallan tilted her head at the last word. "Mutant?"

"You know, those freaks with the tails and extra ears. Hell, my bots just reported seeing a fancy-ass Deathclaw among you."

"Deathclaw?"

The withered man shook his head and facepalmed. "For Christ's sake, how dense is this bitch?" he swore. "Are you sure we're not wasting our time with a dimwit?"

The woman grabbed Magallan by the shoulder and lifted her up onto her feet. "Oh I'm sure she can answer this simple question," she hissed.

She grabbed her arm and squeezed down on it, causing the girl to wince in pain. "Where is my hubby?" the armored one snarled. "What the fuck did you do to my Jigsaw?!"

---

A/N:

Oh no. Not those assholes again. Yep, some of those raiders survived Six's initial slaughter-fest (or at the very least were fortunate enough that he didn't run into them). And they've got robots up and running too. By now you've probably figured out which band they are (or at least which one they're influenced by). And wait, Jigsaw had a wife!? Well, kinda. They're both raiders so they're probably not that faithful to one another. Still, even bandits can have standards.

So this chapter focuses more on Rhodes Island than on Six and Crownslayer. I had some stuff for them written down, but I thought it was getting a bit long for everybody so I pushed it back to the next chapter. Hopefully, that plotline will be wrapped up and Six can resume his journey to Great Lungmen.

And hey, Nian is here too. She's a wanderer at heart so I figured I could throw her in as well. That, and being a fragment of a god probably would give her a bit more insight into the situation than most Operators.

So next time around, shit starts to go down in Kazdel and Chernoberg. Six and Crownslayer venture into the dark heart of Chernoberg and deeper into the storm. Of course, there're still some mosquitoes buzzing around, and they're closing in on the necropolis' biggest secret. Magallan gets a few bruises and answers, first contact is made with the rest of her buddies, and another nasty surprise pops up.