Bandit's Story

A pair of vivid blue eyes scanned the horizon before they retreated to the lanky figure to the left. Lips pursed as a cloud mist dotted the air before her trembling lips. With him drawing ever closer, she could feel her heart race, practically bursting from her bosom. Unable to contain the euphoria, she gripped his collar and pulled him down to her level. When their lips collided, the sweet taste of his soft lips brought a grin to her face.

Life couldn't be better in the mist of things. She had found the love of her life and was trying to sustain life within her womb. Despite being tricky and, potentially lethal, the blue-eyed woman was all for the risk. Why? Well, when you're lover is one of the most (in)famous doctors around, you know he'll do all he can to save both you and the baby.

Whirling around, she squirmed with delight when he nibbled lightly at her ears. "Slash," her eyes flitted over to meet his, "just think, this world could be ours."

"Ours?" His voice was deeper than one might peg it to be, but, beneath that deepness was a soft, sincere undertone that screamed love, romance, and happiness. "Now, now, Bandit, don't let your love of adventure get the best of you."

Her name, Bandit, was known across the land. She was famous for her heroic feats and, most importantly, her mask. That black mask of hers hid her true face just enough that it would leave everyone guessing what she really looked like. The male whose arms snaked around her body was just as well-known as her. His name was Slasher and, unlike his partner, was going down in history with a not-so-clean name. He was a cold-hearted bastard, to say the least. He had, ever since his beginning, been a disaster waiting to wreck havoc on the world. However, upon crossing paths with Bandit, his wild heart had been tamed and the once greedy lad became something more... mellow. Granted, he was still a psycho.

Away from home, the pair was scouting for survivors that were foolish enough to trek across the landscape on their own. You could say, in a sense, that Bandit and Slasher were out saving the good people of Dallas, but that would be a blatant lie. Slasher sought to scavenge organs and Bandit had her own hidden agenda; she was seeking a partner to journey across the land with.

With Slasher being needed at the home base, Bandit was often left to travel the world on her own. Although she didn't mind this, she knew that the risk of death was drawing ever nearer. The wave of ghouls had increased, ten-fold. Within no time, there would be three zombies to every one human. The odds were pretty terrible. Something, no someone, needed to do something about it. But who? Bandit. She was going to set out on a quest to bring humans back onto the top of the food chain. Although, to do that, she would have to kill some of her own kin as there were humans out there that were out for not-so-noble desires such as power, greed, and... dictatorship.

Turning on her heels, the woman took a few steady steps away from her partner before he cackled.

"Bandit, you're heading the wrong way. You know wandering out yonder will get you killed. Let's head back to Lemmon City. We're no good to the world if we're both dead."

Her blue eyes narrowed as a wicked scowl seized control of her face. Cheeks puffed out and lip turned down, Bandit stomped up to the slender male and exhaled her cheek-full of air in his face. "Are you bossing me around," she scoffed before she marched past his lanky shadow. "What? I can't hear you! I'm too busy shoveling myself full of self-pride."

Eyes rolling, Slasher scooped down to pat the mutt at his side. When the wolf-like dog was satisfied, he shifted into his hinds and trailed along behind the pair. Nose to the ground and tail to the wind, he was quite the sight to see. His deep gray coat was patched with dried flakes of blood and mud. The deep umber color on his paws matched the two little spots above each eye, which Bandit liked to call "his eyebrows." Needless to say, the mutt was really enjoying himself. After all, it wasn't every day that he got to trek out into the wasteland with both Bandit and Slasher.

The pair picked their way across the barren land and, from time to time, Slasher would be forced to pull the trigger. Forced because had he not, both would have died. You know, in the wasteland, there isn't a luxury of "to kill or not to kill." It's either kill or be killed.

Slasher's green eyes continued to scan the horizon as the pair started to near the border of their hometown, Lemmon City. With each step closer, the grizzled man could feel the air grow thicker. Despite being their "only hope," the townspeople had really taken a disliking to him. Perhaps it had something to do with his snooping around it night? Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was a flesh eater? Or, perhaps, it had everything to do with the fact that he was shacking up with the famous Bandit of the Wasteland?

"Be still," she cooed as she drew near his trembling core. Hand landing on his shoulder, Bandit pulled herself into him and planted a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. "You know damn well that no one will hurt you." Her voice was a little less sincere that time, but it was an overused line so, of course, it would sound a little more raspy and less motherly.

As one might guess, Slasher was a real nut-case. No one trusted him. Well, aside from Bandit. Either way, he hadn't quite earned the trust of the folk from Lemmon City. As hard as he might try, no one ever came to terms with his... cannibalistic ways. It was, probably, for the better.

"We're here." Her breathe was as light as a feather. Kissing the air with her lashes, she swept past the large steel-plated doors and into the "main lobby" of the city.

Prior to Slasher's entrance, he cocked a brow and watched (with a smirk on his face) a woman go about her thrashing and drunkenness. "Damn drunken whore," he chided before taking a long step into the city.

Now inside the city's fortress, Bandit skipped forward and made a bee-line for the hottest spot in town - the bar. She would, with many flowering gestures, announce her return and be greeted with a thousand sweet kisses.

With his woman running a muck, Slasher pulled his shoulders back in a last-ditch attempt to straighten his posture. Giving no attention to some of the commoners, Slasher found himself staring at the woman he had seen just outside the mighty walls. Right brow cocked and a twisted grin snaking its ways onto his face, the graying male sauntered over toward the entrance.

"What we have today, Max?" His eyes shifted toward a squatting man with a shotgun nestled against his crotch. The stick of dynamite he had in his mouth bobbed about as he spoke to his superior.

"No idea. I reckon ya outta go check 'er out though. She been a rip mess. I'd get 'er me-self, but I dun tank she would be in ta a gem like me." Beneath that broken English was the heart of a corrupted, dirty bastard who wanted nothing but sex, drugs, and liquor. Thankfully, due to his rotten luck, his liver wasn't doing to swell, which meant no such pleasures for Max. Of course, this annoyed him, but Max knew better than to die in such a carefree way. Besides, if he bit the dust, who would get to harass the newcomers?

Shifting his weight onto the balls of his toes, he rocked forward before leaning back. "Nah, I think I'll just watch from afar. Not sure Bandit would be too pleased if I were to bring a drunk home."

"I heard that dem threesomes are great."

A snort came from Slasher's direction. "I don't need anyone else. Bandit is enough of a ride. Besides, I'm getting old. Can't go chasing bitches anymore." Lips turned up to reveal a devious grin. "Well, well, well. Looks like she's finally getting her legs and sight. This ought to be fun. Think I can con her into giving me her arm? What about her liver? I've been dying to build a body...."

Meanwhile, Bandit was tickled with much delight and pleasure. Kicking in the pub's swinging door, she rested her hands on her hips before smirking. "Having a party? And you didn't invite me? I think someone's forgetting who's in charge around here."

"That would be me," said a man with a star pinned to his chest.

Lips pouting, she flashed the sheriff-deemed-major a childish glare. "I meant metaphorically. Why do you always have to ruin my entrance! For once, I want to look like a total badass...." Crossing her arms over her bosom, her wild blue eyes danced across the sea of faces. Here and there, she picked up a familiar pair of eyes, but time and time again, she noted that she didn't quite know the person.

"A lot has changed since I was last here..." her words lingered in the air and brought a few frowns to the faces of the old times. Seeing this, she forced a cheeky grin to her face. "I know how to lift this stale air! A round on me! For everyone! Drink up, you wasteland fucks!"

BANDIT POST

Bandit tousled her blonde strands of hair before she whirled around to greet the man that approached her. Brow cocked and a smug look playing on her face, she rolled her eyes down to meet the shorter male. He was rather gruesome looking, but her poker face suggested otherwise. Shifting her weight to her heels, she rocked back some before she leaned inward to match his nose level with her own. Eye-to-eye, a cackle pursued her lips before she looped an arm around the hideous being.

"Well, well, well...," she began. There was an uppity-beat to her voice, which sounded almost childish and gleeful. Perhaps the wasteland had gotten to her? Or, maybe it was the celebrity buzz that was trying her cunning mind to mush. Either way, she was in bliss and pure ecstasy. Being in the spotlight always brought butterflies to her stomach.

Before she moved on with her train of though, she let her eyes roll over the room. There were so many faces. So many eyes feasted on her body. Some lusted for it while others sought to destroy it. Even though she was legendary, Bandit had her fair share of anti-fans. Actually, she had more that were against her than for her, but the average person knew better than to attack her. Why? Because wherever there was Bandit, there was a Slasher. Meaning, if Bandit was slain, Slasher would come kill you in the most horrifying way possible.

Satisfied with her scoping of the room, Bandit swung her head back around to meet this Yen fellow. Brows furrowing, she took a decent step away from him before showing her back to the man. "Hello, Yen. I'm Bandit, but you knew that. So," her body snapped around and their eyes met, again. "So, Mister Yen, what are your lips trying to spit out? I assume your mind works well and it is that pair of lips that is preventing you from spilling your... whatever." She frowned with that last word, but she was at a loss for something crafty.

While waiting for him to muster up the strength to stammer out something other than a salutation and his name, Bandit shot a quick glance to the character in the room that kept her on her toes -- the Super Mutant that she would later come to know as O'Mally. How odd. There is a mutant in here and no one seems to be taking any action toward him. Is he a regular? Have I really been out of the loop that long? Ugh! Where's my Slasher when I need him. He knows these faces better than I....

"Sorry, what was that?" Snapping to attention, she played a sheepish look on her face. Guilty as charged, she let out a laugh. "I was thinking so I missed everything you said." Eyes focused on his lips, Bandit wondered if he had even said anything at all. Wouldn't that be funny if he said nothing, she chuckled to herself. Oh the joys of multitasking gone wrong!

BANDIT/SLASHER POST -- IN LEMMON CITY


Blinking several times, Bandit couldn't quite grasp what had happened. She knew what happened, but she didn't really understand why it had happened. Okay, so she knew why, but, still! It was just odd. Admirable, but odd.

Not wanting to appear standoffish, she summoned a sincere smile to her face. Batting her lashes a few times, she let a lighthearted laugh roll of her tongue. "I'm flattered, really. But... I'm used to working alone. I wouldn't mind having a partner, but I would need to run it by my... my lover first. He's quite the jealous type. I'm not sure he would be fond of us running a muck without his supervision. Not that I'm hinting anything would happen, but I know my...." Her lips stopped moving as a puzzled look crossed her mind. She was really at a loss for words. What was Slasher to her? A lover? A friend? A boyfriend? A fiance? A husband? Although their were no official documents, Bandit decided that husband made the most sense. But, when she looked at her left hand's ring finger, she noticed the lack of a ring.

Sighing, her eyes went from peachy to sad within a matter of seconds. "I'm sorry. I'm just at a loss for words. Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes! That's right. Joining me as a member of my team. I guess approval won't be necessary. And, from your looks, I would say you seem like the perfect fit for me. Weathered by the wasteland, but still strong enough to have a tough bite. I like you mister..." her mind raced around what his name was.

Bandit stepped away from the mutant before cocked a brow at him. "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't believe you gave me your name. I won't assume you know my real name, but I'm not about to give it out either. But, as you know, you can call me Bandit." Sticking her hand out, she waited for the large fellow to shake her hand and offer up his name. This, in her mind, would seal their deal. The deal that he would accompany her on her journeys across the vast wasteland as she went about her own personal missions. Ah, yes. It would be great, especially with her newest task fresh in her mind. Taking on the Enclave Red Ops. It was going to be a hell of a task, but having a hacker on her side would prove to be useful. Now if only she could convince Slasher to join her. But, being who he was, he had his own desire -- purifying the water.


Before Yen could even reach his hand out to shake hers, the door flew open and a lanky grizzly-haired man wandered in. Within seconds, his eyes landed on the contract that was going down. "Do I even want to know," he hissed as he stepped over to the pair. Nose turned up, he growled, lightly, at the mutant. "Better not be trading me in for that thing."

"Oh, hush." Her forehead wore a large crease. "You need to stop being so rude."

"Tch." Turning his head, he walked past the woman and took a seat at the bar.

This action, of course, pissed Bandit off. Balling her hands into fists, she fought with all her might to prevent the furry of tears from seizing her eyes. Unable to suppress the tears, she stormed off. With the door slamming behind her, she nearly topped the woman that was at the bottom of the steps.

"Ugh! Men. They piss me the fuck off! I hate them all. Every last one of them." She had no idea who this woman was nor did she know Scar was previously with Slasher. Either way, she took comfort in being beside the lady. All too often, Bandit was surrounded by men. It was nice to have a change of gender, for once.

Meanwhile, back in the bar, Slasher was shrugging the whole thing off. "Must be on the rag," he chided as a few of the other men in the bar joined him in the laughing.

The dynamic duo had lost track of time. Maybe a year or two had passed since they last visited Lemmon City. They really couldn't be certain though as no one kept track of time out here, unless they were counting their days alive. Still, who would waste time to do something as trifle as that? It was pointless. Counting days was like watching paint dry. It did nothing for you and only made you a sitting duck. Sitting ducks died and the human popular dropped tenfold. It almost seemed pointless to live at this point, but hope was still on the horizon. After all, the two had managed to make it into Mexico for a bit. Sadly, they were run out of the place by a hoard of ghouls who were thirsty for fresh blood. The couple, well, they decided that Mexico was forever more not a safe place. Then again, was it ever safe? In the legends of old, the Cartels roamed that turf, making life hell for all those who rebelled against them. One could only dream that the worst came to those thugs, whether it be eaten alive or burned to death, either would have been nice.

Bandit, the same perky blond haired, blue eyed lass, was poking at some wood that covered a door. She swore she heard rumors about people living in this area. Besides, that caravan they passed a few days ago was bound to come here. This place was pretty safe. Mines laid under the bridge were set to blow if a mutant dared cross it -- meaning the mines were triggered by weight. If they weren't? Well, Bandit and Slasher were damn lucky to be alive. Or perhaps they weren't weight triggered? Maybe they were hand-triggered. Again, that alluded to the fact that someone was here. She was half tempted to play a game when Slasher beat her to it.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are...," he toyed with the empty town. His knife was dangling loosely in his hands, which cued Bandit to do something a tad reckless on her behalf. Shooting over to him, the blond berated him for taunting the people. "Slash, you're going to scare 'm with that thing! Put it away! NOW!" Her voice was loud enough to be heard by the few coy-dogs (coyotes) that were linger around the outskirts of the fence. One yelped and two more barked. Her palm collided with her forehead. "Doy! Now look what you've done," she barked in a whispered tone.

How the two had survived this long was beyond them. Perhaps it had to do with Slasher's medical know-how or Bandit's sheer brilliance when it came to talking and charming her way out of trouble. She was a foxy little lady, easily able to pull her own weight and make do in hard times. Slasher was the opposite, brutal and mean, able to force his way into good tidings and safety. The pair, they were perfect for one another, almost like yin and yang, only both were corrupt and not so light.

A heavy sigh brought Bandit back to her senses. Just as she was about to scurry off, a creaking noise froze her. Blue orbs darted to the source of the noise and, sure enough, a pair of trembling eyes laid on her. Smile forming on her face, the woman puffed out her chest and elbowed her taller counterpart. "Ha! Told you this wasn't a bad place to look!" Just as soon as the words passed her lips, the door slammed closed. A lock followed.

"Oh yeah, there's real friendly." He was growing bored and annoyed.

"Tch, give them time. Give me time!" Bounding over to the door that once revealed a face, Bandit's hands glided gently across the ash-colored wood. "We mean no harm. We're just looking for a place to rest." She wet her lips. "We've food to share." She hoped that would be enough to coax these people out.

Slowly, but surely, faces appeared from four other buildings. Slasher, taking his cue, pulled out two large slabs of meat from behind a barrel he had hidden them in. They were fresh too, the blood still rolling off of them.

"I'm Bandit and this is my partner, Slasher." Soon, the faces came outside and moved around the newcomers. Grinning, the masked woman let her eyes scan the villagers one by one. There were about nine of them, eleven counting she and Slash.

"C'mon...c'mon...just a bit closer.." Ameratzu quietly prayed from her cover. She watched the pack of wild coyotes circle the dead gecko she'd booby trapped with a powder charge. If she measured the amount of powder correctly, the gecko should absorb most of the heat, and the concussive force should kill at least two coyotes, provided they took the bait. If the gecko wasn't half rotted away already, she'd have been eating that. As it stood, she was three days in the hole without food, so she was getting desperate.

Tentatively edging in, one of the coyotes nipped at the gecko's toe and darted away. Apparently someone had tried this particular ploy before, and these dogs had survived it. Maybe the food would still get the better of them. Ami white knuckled the grip on her detonator, cursing fervently every time the coyotes refused to bite. Finally, they appeared to be satisfied and three of the pack settled in to eat.

"Ahh! You little bastards. I gotcha now!" She clicked the detonator rapidly, almost crushing it with her hands. The following carnage played out exactly as she'd planned. Absorbing most of the fireball and a small amount of shockwave, the gecko's body launched into the air, bisected by the explosion. The three coyotes that had started to eat didn't even have time to yelp in surprise or pain as the force wave slammed into them, killing them instantly. The other two that had stayed on watch escaped the lethal blast zone, but were still tumbled about by the shockwave. Ameratzu was already on her feet and sprinting down the hill, almost tripping over her own feet and eating dirt several times. She managed to get the drop on one of the coyotes staggering to its feet, catching it on the side of the head with a savage kick.

"Sorry, dog. I need to eat too." Stomping on the dog's skull several times, Ami finally split the head open and sent several chunks of brain splattering messily onto the baking hot dirt. The next several hours saw her cleaning, gutting and shaving the four coyote corpses, stringing them onto a line of sturdy wire for ease of transport. Her hunger drove her to consume half of one after all the preparations were completed, however.

Her hunger sated temporarily, Ami slung her catch over her shoulder, unclipped the holster for her pistol, and set off down the road. A couple days and another half of a coyote later, she found herself rolling into a little duster village. The place looked deserted, but one could never be too sure. Unholstering her weapon, Ami loosed a loud whistle, raising her welder's mask so she could scan the environment better. She made it halfway around a corner before noticing two bandit types trying to get into a house that appeared to be occupied. Backpedaling quickly, Ami brought her gun to a ready position and peeked out from behind the house again.

'Any sign of trouble from these bandits and I'm gonna hose them,' she thought.

The people of the town seemed awestruck and at a lost for words for these two strangers who appeared to be better off than they were. Just on looks alone, Bandit was the fattest of the crew (thanks to Slasher). Granted, the blond was far from fat.

Hailing from the southern portion of Texas, these folk probably didn't know about about Bandit and Slasher, as their fame was held further north than here. Still, the duo didn't seem to mind. In fact, they found it odd that these people would completely expose themselves like this. There was something off-putting about the entire situation, almost enough to make Bandit call out magic or trickery. Slasher, as keen as his partner, also felt something was adrift and was already taking a few steps away from the crowd. They seemed possessed, or maybe fixed in a trans that needed breaking. Either way, it seemed like the team wandered right into a trap of sorts. Perhaps the rumors were true around here. Maybe there was a reason to avoid this tiny village of make-shift homes, guns, and bridges.

Her hand slipped across the back of her neck, patting the sweat that was sprouting up. It was getting hot, partially because of the baking sun and the other half being that sinking feeling she was getting. Was it too late to run and hide? Maybe she would just keep pretending for a bit longer, until she figured things out. An uneasy exchange went between the pair, both knowing all too well what the other was thinking. It's what a lifetime of living together and working together brought. They were essentially one and the same, only Bandit was a little more grounded in her morals... sometimes.

A woman stepped forward, swiping her hand at the masked woman. Instantly, Bandit cocked a brow. Just what was this chick doing? If she wanted to cop a feel, she could have just asked. Hell, she could have just put her hand there and Bandit wouldn't have flinched. But this sudden out lash, this bizarre motion, it was unnerving. Her blue eyes didn't have to look twice to see the crazed look that was crawling across Slasher's face. He was starting to go mad with the thought of having these zombie-like people tugging at them as if they were bait. Her hand raised to stop him, but he didn't want to listen. It was pretty clear that these people were either mute or stupid, as they didn't speak nor did they seem to comprehend conversation. At least, it didn't appear so as Slasher flat out mocked them.

"I don't know what the fuck's going on here, but these... things... aren't sitting well with me. I think the muts' would be better than these people." Stepping backwards, the two inches away from the crowd. They were slow to move and they seemed stiff, almost robotic. "The hell we get ourselves into?" Slash asked before moving so that his back was now just inches from the woman with a gun pointed at them. Bandit was a few paces back from him, almost so she was even with the hunter. Neither seemed to notice her though for they were too focused on the lethargic crew before them.

"Should we run?" Her eyes moved toward Slasher and, just out of the corner, she saw movement.

Shit, she cursed to herself. They were right in the open, completely vulnerable to outside attacks. They were too caught up in these townspeople in the trans that they forgot to check the area for outsiders. Hell, a mutant could have gotten in for all she knew. Hand on the hilt of her switchblade, she prepared herself for whatever came next -- whether that be an attack from the shadows or a full on run from these weirdos.

The binoculars had allowed Terrence to see most of what went on in the town below the hill he positioned himself on. He had been watching for a few days since he had witnessed a group of Ghouls come and put something into the water at a nearby spring to the east of the village. He had gone down to warn the people in the town the first day, but instead was almost a victim himself of the demons that now inhabited the townsfolk. The magic must have been strong or already a part of them, so Terrence instead began to watch the village from a nearby hill in the hopes he could either divine what the possessed down below would do or follow the Ghouls when they came back again to see their handiwork.

One the third day of silence from the village below, while the young Tribal was Molerat Meat, Terrence was surprised to hear the sounds of speech at the edge of hearing. Two voices, one male and one female. Climbing to the top of a hill on the west side of the village and placing a Bottle Cap Mine behind him under some brush, Terrence had gone prone and looked through his binoculars at the two strangers who were coming in from the north.
The woman was pale skinned, wearing some kind of black eye mask that Terrence recognized from those Grognak comic books as being the kind a bandit or thief would wear. The other one, the taller man, sent a chill up Terrence's spine but he couldn't tell why. Maybe it was the notch in his ear, maybe it was the way he was holding a knife his hand like he was looking for a fight. Maybe it was the hunger he saw in the man's eyes despite that the bulge of a few cans could be seen in bags and pockets. Terrence couldn't decide but he knew to trust his gut instinct, just like his father had taught him. Because of how they two looked, Terrence simply did nothing but watch as they walked across the bridge and into town.

Terrence reflexively flinched as they went across the bridge. He knew there were mines but he also knew that they were hand operated; whatever the townsfolk were capable of, it wasn't operating the trigger. His gaze followed them as they took the main road that bisected the town and then stopped. He could hear them calling out but he couldn't tell what they were saying. Then he noticed another figure in the village, a Asian woman. At first he thought her to be one of the townsfolk but then he noticed she was holding a gun; the insanity that gripped the town had made them incapable of that.

Turning his view back to the two from before, Terrence noted that the entranced people were already beginning to surround the duo. They seemed to have realized that the people were no longer normal and had begun to back up, some fear in their eyes. Terrence had to warn them somehow, make them realize the people were beyond help and would kill them.

That's when he pulled his Paniencia and put himself into a good position for firing, lined up a shot on the head of the entranced woman closest to the two strangers, and squeezed the trigger. He had two more shots after this to fire on others that came forward before he had to reload. Hopefully the duo would make the right decision and get away before the rest of the town woke up.

Things were really looking bleak for the two. Was this really going to be their last fight? Had they survived this long just to die here? They hadn't even done anything to redeem the world! They couldn't die! They needed to survive! But... that seemed impossible. Right? No, of course not. There was still an ace up a sleeve. Slasher. Bandit's blue gaze shifted to her partner. Slasher was beginning to lose his human touches. Froth came to his lips and his eyes started to become red as the vessels in his eyes burst. His hair started to stand on end and even his muscles began to bulge. Bandit just hoped that his pent up raze and blood-lust would be enough to save their hides. Not to mention, she had no idea what these townsfolk were tripping on. It was entirely possible that these folks were pumped full of lead and consuming them would result in a painfully slow and tragic death for Slasher.

Shaking this vision from her eyes, she was about ready to scream when a bullet whizzed past her face. It was too close for comfort, actually, for her eyes watched as a piece of her severed blond hair floated to the dusty path below. In awe, she froze, unsure what to do.

The woman before her dropped instantly. The bullet bore right through her skull, which cracked on impact. Blood spewed from the hole and started to stain everything in vicinity. Tripping forward, the shot person fell just short of Bandit's feet. Stepping backward some, her ears heard the familiar explosion that came from the barrel of a rifle. Two more bullets found their homes in the zombified people before Bandit. Seizing this moment, she turned on her heels and started to make a beeline for the fence. It was razor sharp with barbed wires poking out every which way, but she didn't care. She didn't dare cross that lethal bridge. There was no way she could make it across in one piece. Over the fence was the only option.

As she ran, she gave her leather gloves a good tug. It was time to put these worn puppies to good use again. Kicking up dust as she ran, she just kept her blue eyes forward, not daring to look back at her pursuers. If she could breach the fence, she could run to where the sniper rifle's sound rang from. She didn't know the exact location, but she figured whoever saved her did so because he or she wanted something. You didn't just save someone without a reason. At least, not in this day and age.

Slasher remained behind and was allowed to enjoy the savory blood of these pathetic goons. His teeth ripped into the neck of one of the men. He bit hard and shook viciously until the skin gave away. Giving the flesh a good jerk, the throat ripped open and blood was pooling from the gaping hole. But he wasn't done yet. Throwing his fists into the dying man, Slasher stopped his legs until the knees bent in the opposite direction. Crippling his dinner, Slasher let his hands dig into the man's flesh. It was a sickening sound to hear -- a man screaming as the fingers of Slasher worked away at making popping noises by lacing the man's chest with holes. Lowering his firm jaw, Slasher tore at the man's chest hair until it was plucked clean. The raw red chest exposed caused his green eyes to glimmer. Pulling forth his knife, he playfully cut out the guy's heart. He was still alive, somehow, but not for long. Dropping over the guy, mounting him almost, Slasher blissfully devoured the still beating heart. Blood gushed from behind his lips and painted his face red. There wasn't an inch of clean skin left on the Slasher at this point. No, he was plastered in the blood of his prey.

Licking his chops, his green orbs turned to the next unsuspecting victim that was pursuing Bandit. Lunging forward, he tugged the fat woman down. He gnawed at her ankle until it wore away. Using her rolls as steps, Slasher pulled his body forward onto hers. Hand still waving his knife, he plunged it deep into the fat woman's neck. Instantly, this one stopped moving.

Smearing the blood on his face with his right arm, the lanky man rose to his feet. Grin wide and eyes crazed, Slasher laughed. Boy was this fun!

Something about the pair just didn't sit right with her. Ami decided not to give herself away with the gun, however, and instead opted to use some spare traps she'd accumulated to take care of them. She set up three bear traps between several houses and set up two bottle-cap mines around chest level. Taking a moment to admire her handiwork, Ami instinctively hit the deck at the sound of high caliber rifle fire.

"What the hell? I didn't see a rifle on either of those goons!" Crawling forward on her elbows and knees, Ami pushed her mask up again with annoyance, trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. She caught a glimpse of the girl goon sprinting past one of her mines, which must have had a faulty sensor module, as it waited a half second before blasting a chunk of the house it faced open. Ami heard a host of startled growls rise from inside, which made her heart sink.

Ghouls...oh great, she lamented with a shiver. Scrambling to her feet, Ami pulled a grenade off the grapevine cluster from her back, not checking which type it was as she dashed around the side of the house and chucked it into the big hole. One of the ghouls noticed her and attempted to leap out of the hole, but instead managed to impale itself on some rebar and bottle-cap shrapnel, pinning it fast. Some of its fellows had managed to smash the front door of the house down and were now pouring into the street. Well, they were, until Ami's little present went off.

For once she was glad her mask had fallen down again, as the blinding corona of the miniature sun she'd summoned probably would have melted her retinas otherwise. She barely had time to curse savagely before the shockwave lifted her up and rag-dolled her about ten feet back. Luckily most of the debris from the three houses she'd leveled flew much farther than her. Ami struggled to a sitting position, wiping a lone tear from her eyes under the welders mask.

"So...beautiful. If I was the marrying type, I'd marry you Nuka-grenade." Not wanting to look away from the growing mushroom cloud, Ami nevertheless understood that there were probably more ghouls around and she'd have to escape sooner or later. Deciding to take a shortcut through the now demolished fence, Ami spotted the shrinking back of the goon that survived her trap and figured it would be good to see where she was going. Ami whipped her 5.56 out of its holster and followed the girl, keeping an eye over her shoulder for trailing ghouls.

Satisfied that the one in the mask was safe after she crossed the fence, the young Tribal turned his sights back to the unsettling one. Panicking for a moment as all he could see was blood, Terrence looked through his binoculars so that he would have a better look. Horrified by the sight of the same man tearing through the townspeople like a Deathclaw and devouring them as he went, Terrence second guessed his actions and debated staying where he was. They had heard the shots and it was likely that one of them would be able to find him.

After a moment, he decided it wasn't a good idea to meet a man who could tear apart someone else like it was nothing and he disarmed the bottle cap mine that laid behind him, putting it back into his satchel. Going back to his camp and pouring a bucket of water on the fire, Terrence packed up his bedroll and headed around the south side of the town and toward the water spring. Keeping the hills between himself and where he had fired his rifle, Terrence hoped that would keep them from seeing him and following. He shivered at the thought of having to talk to that creature or, even worse, get blind sided by it. Or be forced to be his travelling companion, he thought.

Terrence stopped that line of thought right there. If there was anything you didn't do with dangerous animals, it was mess with what they considered their property. You don't touch a Mirelurk's eggs, you don't go near a Cazadore's nest, and you sure as Brahmin shit don't mess with a Deathclaw's mate. He shook his head, trying to convince himself that trying to follow the two of them would be stupid, trying to interact would be suicide.

But leaving them alone would be murder. It wouldn't be at his hands, but there was no telling how long it would be until the kind of animal that was inside that man would let the masked woman live. She had abandoned the animal quite quickly, even considering bullets were flying past her. Maybe she knew the man would be okay, but maybe she had been looking for a window for escape for weeks, months, or even years. Slavers weren't uncommon in Texas, but she didn't seem to be wearing the explosive collar that was popular among most of the groups that used the practice for income. The decision was a moral one, something Terrence always hated. What to do.

Putting himself behind a hill where he could see his old camp, Terrence pulled out his binoculars once more and observed the masked woman making her way towards where he had fired the rifle. He shook his head at his own stupidity but kept watching. Maybe there would be some kind of sign she was in trouble, that they were not true companions but instead master and property. He would only stay until the animal began to arrive, and then he wouldn't dare come close.

How long had she been running? When had he peeled off and headed back? What was happening? Actually happening.

Her blue eyes tried to keep clear and focused as she continued running forward. There was no turning back; she couldn't afford it. Even when a bear-trap cinched her, she kept running forward. The wound wasn't deep, thankfully, but it was enough to cause her skin to ooze blood. It was burn-like in its nature and, without proper wrapping, could easily get infected and bring about her death. Oh how she wished her Slasher was here. She just wanted his arms to pluck her from the earth and carry her to safety. Anyplace save for her would do, really. But she was alone.

How far had she gone now? Not daring to peek over her shoulder, she kept moving forward. Knowing if she stopped that she would never regain her speed, the blond kept racing toward the rocks where the sniper once fired from. Closing her eyes, the tears slipped from them as she inched closer and closer to her location. But that gash on her leg was beginning to take its toll. Her rush of adrenaline was starting to vanish. Her boost was dwindling and she could feel her strength slip from her. Falling to her knees, the sharp sting of the coarse sand kept her from moving. Laying there, Bandit fought to breathe. It was a hard, slow process. Sharp and painful, too. It felt as if someone had lodged a knife between his breasts.

Somehow, she managed to kick herself around so that she was now gazing up at the hazy sky above her. Frantically, her hands felt for her weapon. Should something be on her tail or in the area, she would need some line of defense. From her peripheral vision, she could see that her savior sniper had already broke away and was probably running from here. It was the wisest move, honestly. After all, could you really trust anyone out here? Even at times Bandit questioned her partner. Who was to say he wouldn't go bat-shit crazy and eat her alive? Who was to say he wouldn't leave her for dead? Everything rested on where or not she could control the situation and that man of hers.

After much finagling, Bandit finally freed her hunting shotgun. Ready for whatever came next, she let her blue eyes frantically scoot around the surrounding areas. If one where to attack, she would see them. There was nothing super close that could veil an attack, save for the ledge below her, but Bandit was betting that anything smaller than a human could make that jump. Unless... no, she wouldn't go there. It was better to just wait and see what would happen. No point worrying oneself to death, right?

Gun loaded and aiming in process, Bandit waited for the unknown. Keeping her prayers on Slasher, she really hoped he would pop up over the mount and come to her rescue. Right now, she could use a hero.

Just as the young Numinu had suspected, the masked one was making her way to his recently abandoned sniping position. He watched as she struggled forward despite the wound she had gotten along the way, in the face of the possible evils a random stranger could have enacted on her. She was indeed desperate for some kind of safety, but if it was from the animal below or just the wasteland itself was still to be shown.

The binocular's turned back to the village again, looking for the creature. Terrence almost vomited as he compensated for distance with the focus, blood and guts strewn about like streamers from a celebration. Choking back the bile, he focused on the blood-drenched thing and saw it handling some fleshy, grey lump of flesh just smaller than a man's head. The texture of it's surface looked familiar, but it surely couldn't be a brain? It looked far to diseased and discolored. A bashed open head next to him banished the doubts from his mind. These people truly were long gone.

Scanning again for the last stranger, the one who hid from the others, Terrence managed to see her just as she threw some kind of small grenade into a hole, inside which appeared to be true Ghouls, Children of Ruin. The bright blue fireball nearly blinded Terrence's eyes, exposed behind focusing lenses. What kind of explosive did that? For a moment, Terrence thought of the stories about the Day of Ruin. Whistling agents of destruction born from every terrible emotion that humanity could create that bathed the earth in fire and death. No, this was not one of the Whistling Ones. They were brighter than the sun and white as salt, this was blue. Maybe a weaker creature of the same ilk, but another Day of Ruin was not yet at hand.

Blinking away the bright spots, Terrence turned his gaze back to finding the masked woman. She fell when she was at the top of the hill, obviously weak from both blood loss and pain. Terrence felt a twinge of sympathy, thinking about the healing powder in his satchel. If it would be enough was beyond his knowledge of medicine, and if she would let him apply it was simply impossible to predict in the age of radiation. Just so many variables to consider.

He watched for a moment as she kicked herself onto her back and looked around, retrieving some kind of shotgun to prepare for an attack while in her weakened state. If the laws of the wasteland held, she would just as soon as kill him and take the healing powder than let Terrence come anywhere near her. If he was to help, he'd need to know he wasn't going to get shot in the process. He moved himself down his side of the hill, away from sight, and called out while drawing his hunting revolver.

“Masked girl, can you hear me? I have a proposition for you if you would listen.” Terrence checked the cylinder of the revolver and counted the bullets. Five shots, not a one he'd rather use then and not when it might mean food or safety.

A voice from behind called to her. Bewildered, she gripped her shotgun a tad harder. Did she dare trust the voice? That was when Bandit realized that maybe this man was her savior -- the sniper from before. Her grip loosened some, but she wasn't about to completely retire the gun. No, she had no idea if this was just some ploy to jump and kill her. Or worse, rape her and leave her for dead.

Allowing her ears to turn toward the sound of the voice, she silently played out the various scenarios that could come from this. It was frustrating not knowing which would come true. Wishing for the best would make her naive and stupid, but assuming the worse was just as reckless. A good gulf followed before she responded.

"I'm listening, mister." Her voice was higher pitched than one might assume. It was light and friendly, though. It was something that resembled the sweet tone of a little girl. It might have been hard to believe that a wasteland hardened woman still spoke with the voice of a young angel, but Bandit was living proof of this. Perhaps even the wasteland didn't want to rid the world of such an innocent voice that could be filled with much love, life, and laughter.

A light tremble seized her lips, but Bandit drew it tight, not wanting to look scared shitless before the eyes of this man. In reality, she was. Every bone within her core shook and she could feel her stomach turning over and over. Hands clammy and face full of beads of sweat, the blond was beginning to wonder if she were feverish. Her back was drenched in sweat and he cheeks were now burning. Can't forget that leg of hers either; still just as raw and red as before. God, she was a wicked, bloody mess. And where was Slasher in the mix of all this? Had he been separated from her in the heat of her escape?

Eyes glancing down the hill she stumbled up, those sad blue eyes feared the worst. Among the debris and smoke, she couldn't spy her partner. Was it wise to go back? Or should she just keep praying that he would come back to her. Time and time again, she left and returned to him. Perhaps he would do the same.

Head falling against the warm sand below her, the blond tipped her eyes up toward the shadowy silhouette of the man. "If you're here to kill me, make it quick." Worn eyes lingered on Terrance's form a moment longer. "If not, may I be so bold as to ask for your name, kind sir. I'm..." she paused. Perhaps offering up her nickname wasn't the best of ideas. If she were to die, she wanted the world to know who she really was. "I'm Jessica Garrette, but most everyone calls me Bandit."


((Poop. I see I posted this in the wrong area. Is there anyway to relocate posts?))

"I'm listening, mister." She sounded young, almost soft-spoken, but this was a world where you grew up quickly or you died. Youth didn't rule out danger. Staying prone and peeking out from the top of the hill that seperated them, he placed the corn-stalk hat on the end of his war club and slowly raised it so that it was within line of sight of the masked girl but not obviously a decoy. If she was going to fire, hopefully she would be impatient and shoot at the hat without waiting to see his eyes.

"If you're here to kill me, make it quick." She paused for a moment, maybe waiting for Terrence to reveal the rest of himself so that she could kill him with a clean shot and then wait for that animal to find her. If that was the case, the question was if she was finding prey for her owner or feeding her pet.

"I'm Jessica Garrette, but most everyone calls me Bandit." Terrence allowed himself a short laugh, realizing that this was the name he had almost given her in his mind.

"Bandit? I fail to imagine that is a name that would get you a lot of trust in a new town." He shook his head in disbeleif and reached into his satchel.

"Incoming." Grabbing a tightly bound pouch containing a simple mixture of broc flower and xander root, he threw it toward Bandit while keeping behind the hill top. It should be well within reach.

"Do you know how to use healing powder?"

This man was rather odd. Who in their right mind wore a hat like that in the wasteland. It was downright hideous. And when was the last time it was washed? Such odd things to think when life flashed before the eyes, but that was Bandit for you. If she were to die, she wanted to die with questions in her mind. Feeling the pain of death didn't sound fun. She wanted to escape that feeling. She wanted to at least die with a smile on her face or a quizzical look on her face. Still, that hat just had to go. Wait, who was she to talk! She was wearing a cowboy hat. They were in Texas so it seemed fitting, perhaps too fitting. She really was falling into that stereotype thing too much, wasn't she. If only she were a good little church girl. Snorting at her own thought of believing in God, the blue eyed miss rolled her eyes.

Within time, the stranger from above seemed to open up a bit. Or at least enough to tease her. His statement was honest in nature, though. A lot of people did question her. Perhaps Bandit wasn't as good a name as she thought. Again, with the questions and self-doubt! Feeling rather pathetic, the blond found herself scoffing. "Bandit sounds better than Itty Bitty Titty Committee." Glancing down at her underdeveloped breasts, the woman growled to herself. Curse her for being small! She wanted to at least be a 34B. At least it would be something to show off. Instead, her breasts would give her no such pleasure. She would simply have to depend on her ass. Too bad it was squished below her weight and completely useless with his stranger. Not to mention, a booty call hardly seemed fitting in the middle of the desert. Oh, and she forgot that her life was fluctuating. If this guy proved to be a trap, she would be a goner for sure. At this point it was very obvious that Slasher wasn't coming to save her. She was going solo for here on out. At least until they crossed paths again.

A tiny pouch landed in the dirt beside her. As the sand sprayed up to hit her face, Bandit coughed. God did this dry heat such or what! She was parched and in desperate need of shade. Not wanting to pass up a second of looking at the pouch's contents, she pulled the thing near. And when she opened it, her jaw hug ajar.

"The heck is this?" Dumping some of the powder in her hand, she leaned into it and give it a good whiff. Nose feeling funny, she tried to suppress a sneeze but couldn't hold it back. The powder in her hand flew up around her face and into her eyes. Swatting the air as if it were a fly, she started to panic. Just what was going on! Was this guy trying to drug her with cocaine? Oh god. She could feel the world starting to spin. Was it the lack of water? The bright sun beating down on her? Or this mysterious powder?

Eyelids heavy, the blue eyed wanderer fought to keep them open. As her body swayed, life and energy drained from her. With each passing second, she started to fold forward. Finally, fatigue and dehydration set in. Collapsing over herself, the sun baked her dry and left her roasting on the hot sand below. Unconscious, she wouldn't stir until liquid entered her system, for right now her body was conserving energy. Until night came, Bandit would lay motionless.

Null

---

The blanket of night slowly crept in over the vast wasteland as the dark figure continued his solemn march across it.

Only the faintest puff of vapour escaped his lips when he exhaled, the heat of the sun quickly escaping as the last shadows receded, replaced by total darkness. While he seemed to carry himself confidently, feet low to the ground and swift, upon closer inspection, one could note the slight sag of his broad shoulders, the lids beginning to hang heavy over sharp ice-blue eyes, each step up the ridge more stolid than the last.

"Null..."

Her whisper jolted him back into consciousness, hands tightening upon his lightweight carbine, moving it from a casual hip carry to a tight, militaristic hold pressed against his shoulder. He had traveled for far too long without rest; thirty-six hours now, by his count. Darkness was swiftly coming to claim him; the ghosts of the past begun to circle within his mind like vultures.

He was considering resting atop the ridge when he saw the pair.

A man of around thirty, maybe a little less, carrying a seemingly-unconscious young woman over his shoulders; most likely a kidnapping of some form. He wore leather armour, a rifle carried low in his hands; he seemed tired, most likely from having carried the woman's form for so long. His location was perhaps a few hundred metres away, walking just below the top of the ridge; he was high enough to have a good view over the terrain, but not enough to be easily exposed.

Null's mind moved quickly. On one hand, his consciousness was slowly fading; from his projections, he had perhaps two or three hours until he required rest or risked an unacceptable loss of combat effectiveness. A fight now could prove dangerous. On the other hand, to allow a young woman like that to be kidnapped-

Anna would never have allowed it.

Null paused, turning to his mechanical companion, the four-legged mechanical beast of burden that trailed him everywhere he went. A few quick whispers went out - "Companion protocol - wait", nothing more, a simple order that it could follow well enough.

With a silent prayer, he quickly racked the bolt on his 9mm subcarbine, flicking off the safety; he was still far enough away from the man that he could not have been detected from those sounds alone. From here, it was a matter of speed and stealth.

He stayed low, just below the ridge, sprinting along near-silently, feet making barely any noise as they seemingly glided across the ground in movements they'd executed a thousand times before. He was struck how much easier this was in simple reinforced leather armour relative to attempting stealth in full power armour, even when the servos were set to operate silently. He hoped that he had made the correct choice; if this man had allies, then the additional firepower of the power armour and Peacekeeper could perhaps have been convenient.

No time now, however.

He sprinted the last few hundred feet along the bottom of the ridge, carbine gripped tightly in his hands, until he could hear the man's heavy footsteps easily; he was exhausted from the day's travel, no doubt.

The man's footsteps grew louder, until Null knew that he was almost alongside. Now for the difficult part. Still remaining as quiet as he could - based on the lack of interruption in his foe's footsteps, he had yet to be detected - he vaulted the ridge, carbine held in one hand, rolling over the ridge as he hit the other side, before snapping up his rifle; he stood perhaps fifteen feet behind the pair of wastelanders. His finger curled steadily around the trigger. When his voice spoke, it was dark, commanding, cold.

"Turn around. Slowly."

Terrence almost lost his balance, the cold voice interrupting him mid-stride. 'By the Tribe! I must be getting old; first I help this girl, then her beast sneaks up on me.' Slowly raising his hands outwards, rather than straight up and pushing Bandit off his back, Terrence slowly turned his body towards the voice and nearly let out a sigh of relief before he remembered he was still at gun point. His rifle was still in his hand, but shooting it one handed in this stance would be next to impossible.

Even in the quickly fleeting twilight, it was obvious that this man was not the same creature from that possessed town. He carried himself differently, almost in the exact opposite way of a wild animal. This man was conditioned and trained, his positioning and voice showed that quite clearly.

"To professional to be a Raider. NCR? Brotherhood?" If one were perceptive enough, the faint sound of hope could be heard in Terrence's voice. 'More likely to take prisoners, that way.'

Terrence shivered as a slow breeze crept by, carrying the cold of night on it's breath. The days were hot in the waste, but the ground grew freezing under the stars. 'And then there is the creatures that hunt under watch of the moon.' They couldn't have been more than a few hundred yards from the shack, easily kept warm by the furnace inside. 'What were the odds that this damnable soldier would find us just as we were nearly to safety?'

Null

---

Null moved from his crouch to a standing position, the barrel of his rifle not wavering for a moment as he took a step back. The air was quickly growing frigid; the lightweight armour offered little protection from the cold. He would need to procure a cloak at some point.

The man was a tribal, from the looks of him; tan skin, a wiry build, with fierce eyes that seemed to search everything for a way out. Those eyes were odd; moving around fast, checking everything, slightly panicked, wild in their own way, yet at the same time, perfectly calm. Null had never seen a tribal this close before - he'd fought them hundreds of times, for certain, but had never focused on the eyes, only on their weapons and armour and build, as they stood at the wrong end of a .50 BMG round barrelling downrange.

It had always struck him how easily humans died. Seemed so impossible, next to the power-armoured Enclave; how a few bullets, and they fell to the ground, bleeding and screaming. One round from the Peacekeeper could tear a leather-armoured tribal apart, ending them and everything they had ever known in the space of an instant. The end of the road for them.

He still felt nothing towards their loss.

"Not here to kill you," he said, still staring down the sights of his carbine. Rather ironic, a part of him thought, given that he had a rifle levelled at the man, but such was the nature of this war. He nodded towards the girl, the barrel of his gun remaining set in stone as he did so.

"What are you doing with her?"