BIRTH FACTS:
Full Name: Dimitri Elliott Alkaev
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Ethnicity: Russian
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Was black, but it's graying now
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS:
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 176 lbs
Body Type: Slender beyond belief, but incredibly buff.
Hair Style: Messy. He never bothers to fix it.
Appearance: He's a rather lengthy fellow. Despite looking like skin and bones, Slasher is actually quite strong. He can pull his own weight and then some. A lot of people don't realize that his boots are lined with steel and that he is in a bullet-proof vest. They also don't realize that the explosives on his belt aren't there for show -- meaning, they actually work.
His hair is usually a mess, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he rarely gives a damn about his appearance. He already has a woman and she seems a-okay with his appearance so he sees no reason to modify his look. However, Slasher does wear a hat from time to time. It's probably to hide his graying hair. The roots are gray while the tips stay black.
THE OTHER THINGS:
Sexuality: Straight
Age: Thirty
Scars: He has a few cuts on his arms. There's also a small notch taken out of his right ear.
Ink/Holes: No holes, but he does have some ink. He has a medic's red-cross inked on his left bicep with the words "Med Core" below it. On the back of his neck is a Russian mafia star symbol, which is usually covered up by his military-grade jacket collar. On the inside of his right wrist is a small star which is actually made out of words (Bandit's full name).
Attire: He is always in some sort of military grade outfit. He is usually in his steel-toed combat boots and hunter green cargo pants. He wears a black t-shirt which is always covered by a bullet-proof vest that has the word "MEDIC" inscribed on the back. Although he loves flashing off his title, he usually hides it with his hunter green army jacket. Just above his hips is a belt that holds most of his explosive toys. Aside from all that, Slasher's neck is always donned with his dog tags and his wrists are normally wrapped with bandages (no one knows why).
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Slasher
"Need repairing? I can help... <Mutters> ...so long as you don't mind losing a few organs."
0 · 301 views · located in 
Aegis
a character in “Fallout: Red Texas”, as played by Xavirne
Groups
Description
Personality
THE GOOD:
Slasher is one hell of a medic. He's actually fairly well known. A lot of people believe that he's the sole reason Bandit's still alive. He not only has the best stuff on the planet, but he's also got some crazy concoctions of his own which come at a rather hefty price on the black market. Slasher is brilliant beyond belief, which is evident in his scientific discoveries. He's also quite the tech-whiz. He can hack just about any computer terminal, but it usually comes as a heavy price.
The man is rather devious, but just about everyone knows this -- just look at his smile! He's pretty witty and he's quite the charmer, or at least to Bandit he is. Despite his rough approach, Slasher is actually one hell of a guy. He defends his town to no end and takes his job seriously. He's a hard worker and a great guy to have on your side, too bad he's not interested in making friends.
AND THE BAD:
Uhh, he's a psycho. He eats people. He kills people. He's a fucked up motherfucker. He's not a prickly personality and he's not one to engage in small talk. In fact, he hates talking (unless it's with Bandit). Slasher is also a bit... insane. He tends to believe that people are out to get him (which is actually very realistic, seeing as he's got a nice little rep sheet that 'magically' vanished). So, as you could probably assume, he's jumpy and trigger happy. He's also a bit too excited about finding injured people. It should be noted that he does enjoy removing organs and putting them back. He thinks its a fun game.
It's been rumored that he is actually working for "The Enemy." Slasher will neither confirm nor deny this.
Equipment
+6 Strength
+7 Perception
+7 Endurance
+1 Charisma
+9 Intelligence
+4 Agility
+6 Luck
SKILLS:
Combat: Guns and Explosives
Active: Doctor, First Aid, Medic, Medicine, Science, and Repair
Passive: Deception and Gambling
PERKS:
Living Anatomy, Cannibal, Nerd Rage, Ghastly Scavenger, Chemist, Jury Rigging, Chem Resistant, Computer Whiz, Spray 'n Pray, In Shining Armor, Alertness, Lessons Learned, Voracious Reader, Hit The Deck, and Pyromaniac
EQUIPMENT:
Dog tags, a pack of cigarettes, a tape recorder, his medical license, and matches.
WEAPONS & TOYS:
Flamer
Knock-Knock
Ratslayer
Frag Mine
Flash Bang
Cosmic Knife (Clean)
Chopper
Sterilizer Glove
Straight Razor
OTHER:
A letter from Bandit that he keeps on his person at all times. The letter reads as follows:
My dearest Dimitri,
Ever since you left your mark, I've been wanting... no... craving more. It's a shame you left me. My nights are long, cold, and lonely. I could use a man like you to keep me warm. I miss your scent and how you would try to mask the smell of cigarettes with whiskey and cologne. Why did you have to go? My mind can't stop thinking of you and the way you touched me. My body lusts for yours. Please, please come back. I want need you.
Forever yours,
Jessica
History
CHILDHOOD:
Slasher was born and raised in a nuclear fallout shelter. Despite not being born in Pandora, little Slasher was kept from exploring the outside world. For the most part, he stayed with his mother, a doctor at that time, and went around with her. At a young age, he was cutting open cadavers and learning about the human anatomy. Some say that this caused him to become the troubled man he is today. Others say he was born this way.
Needless to say, Slasher grew up around the dead. His father, a mechanic, ended up watching him from time to time. Slasher enjoyed his time with his father and took it upon himself to impress the guy -- his father said his son was a mistake. No matter how hard the little guy tried, his father wouldn't give in a wink of attention. In his father's eyes, Slasher was a failure. He was worthless and useless, just like his mother.
It was around his thirteenth birthday that he started hacking into the main frames. His desire to impress his father drove him to tinkering with computers, as they were something his father didn't understand. The more time he spent around them, the more her realized people were like computers. They both had memories and they both had lives that could end.
By Slasher's sixteenth birthday, the kid knew how to operate on someone and he was also a professional hacker. Being customary that all sixteen-year-old children were given a job, Slasher was given a test that would determine his future. It was then when things took a turn for the worse. The test had revealed that he was to be an "experiment" for scientific means. His father, who had finally grown to appreciate the lad (he was only using him), rebelled against the system and ended up getting shot.
Emotions raged in Slasher, which landed him in a straight jacket. His mother, who had become quite the psycho due to prolonged exposure to some nasty drugs, ended up beating and torturing her son. As if raping him was enough, she even forced him to drink human blood. To her, it was just a game. To him, it was the beginning of a revolution.
After enduring her punishment for close to five years, Slasher finally snapped. One night, after his mother raped him, Slasher wrapped the chains that bound him to a bed around her neck. Holding them there, he watched as she squirmed for life. Once she was dead, he used his lock-picking skills to break free. Having to hack into a terminal, he opened his cell, which, to his surprise, set off an alarm system. Everyone in the shelter took to arms and went to see what had happened. But, being the genius that he was, Slasher was already one step ahead of them. When they entered the chamber, he locked the door and turned on the sprayers, which, might I add, contained a very toxic drug. Watching them die, he could only laugh. Those that were able to escape the torture shower were not only mutilated by his dull blade, but they were also eaten alive.
Once he was certain they were all dead, he kicked his way out into the wasteland where he took a bullet to the chest. Dropping, the last thing he recalled seeing was someone laughing and then running away.
When he finally came to, he was beside a dwindling fire. Shivering to his left was a girl (only fifteen) who looked petrified beyond belief. It was love at first sight. The way her eyes dilated when he sat up and how her body seemed to jerk away. It intrigued him. He longed for it. That same sinister grin was on his face, but, when he went to sink his teeth into her skin, he found not resistance, but desire. She neither drew away or kicked. No, rather that doing that, she leaned in, moaning for more. It would be a few years later before he found out that she craved contact because, for so long, she had been alone.
Days turned into weeks which become months which became years. Bandit had set out on a journey, and, sad as it is, she left without Slasher. For about three years he wondered if his lover was dead, but then, one day, she returned. She was a bloody mess. It was the first time he ever cried and, with those tears in his eyes, he patched up his woman.
NOWADAYS:
The two haven't changed much. Slasher still sticks around Lemmon while Bandit goes about the wasteland looking for trouble. Every time she returns, she pays a visit to him and gets herself fixed right up. Slasher ended up selling his old place and is now living in Bandit's house. Though small, it's just the right size for the two. They are the only real couple in Lemmon. Everyone knows that Slasher is off limits -- most would avoid him anyway -- as is Bandit -- the guys would love to tap that woman. When Bandit's not around to screw as he pleases, he's usually cutting things open or tinkering with items.
Recently, though, the pair decided it was time to seek adventure elsewhere. Packing up their supplies, the two headed south to explore the lower regions of Texas. What's in store for them? They don't really know...
So begins...
Slasher's Story
- Seen 22 Times • Page 1 of 2 • 1, 2
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.
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.
"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.
The setting changes from Gaston City to Lemmon 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!"
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!"
SLASHER POST
Great, he said to himself while rolling his eyes. She was hitting on him. Why was it that women felt the need to hit on him? Slasher knew he was ruggedly good looking, but, still, every damn women has to try and flirt with him. Hell, even the men did it.
Shuddering, he rolled his eyes over to her body. A quick once-over eased his pains as, to his delight, this specimen was rather delicious looking. Oops! He could feel his saliva pooling in his mouth and his hands had magically gone ahead and started to feel the woman up. Shit. How would he explain this one to Bandit?
At that point, Max was on his ass laughing. Rolling around in what looked like a drunken-fit, he spat out, "Dis damn lady is tryin ta hit on a taken man and said taken man is going for second-base! Imma go tell yer Bandit."
He was joking, but Slasher didn't care. Shoving his fist into Max's gut, he watched as the male released his last meal on the earth below. Double-over in pain and agony, Max batted his eyes a few times before stuttering, "I'm sorry."
Spitting on Max's face, Slasher turned to look at Jo. An uninterested look played on his face. "Listen, lady, I don't know who you are, but I'm not interested in your services. I have my own prize-lady to screw as I please."
Finally gaining his second wind, Max sat up and looked the lass over before he cleaned his face of Slasher's slimming spit. "Oh ho! I does believe I have seen ya face b'far. You was here last night. Yup. Ya told some guy off and said ya were goin to tell the sheriff or somethin. Too bad it was the sheriff you were trying to piss off."
Slasher's eyes rolled around their sockets, again. "I'm surrounded by imbeciles." Massaging his temples, the lanky male put his foot on Max's back before he kicked him over. "Sober up. Get educated. Get laid." Shaking his finger in Max's face, he sauntered over to Jo. Yanking a blade from his pocket, he pointed it at her neck. "No funny business, whore." Giving her a good shove, Slasher started to push her toward the bar as he figured Bandit would know what to do with this lady. If he was lucky, someone in the bar would blow a hole in her forehead. Hell, it would make his job easier.
It was then when a devilish gleam came to his eyes. Slasher, you are a genius! To my office we shall go so I can have my way with her! Blade to her back, Slasher twisted her arm behind her back so that if she tried to run she couldn't.
"We're going to my place for some... experimentation." A sinister laugh followed, which probably caused Jo to cringe or shudder in fear. It was not wise to enter the layer of Slasher for when you went in, you never came out whole.
Great, he said to himself while rolling his eyes. She was hitting on him. Why was it that women felt the need to hit on him? Slasher knew he was ruggedly good looking, but, still, every damn women has to try and flirt with him. Hell, even the men did it.
Shuddering, he rolled his eyes over to her body. A quick once-over eased his pains as, to his delight, this specimen was rather delicious looking. Oops! He could feel his saliva pooling in his mouth and his hands had magically gone ahead and started to feel the woman up. Shit. How would he explain this one to Bandit?
At that point, Max was on his ass laughing. Rolling around in what looked like a drunken-fit, he spat out, "Dis damn lady is tryin ta hit on a taken man and said taken man is going for second-base! Imma go tell yer Bandit."
He was joking, but Slasher didn't care. Shoving his fist into Max's gut, he watched as the male released his last meal on the earth below. Double-over in pain and agony, Max batted his eyes a few times before stuttering, "I'm sorry."
Spitting on Max's face, Slasher turned to look at Jo. An uninterested look played on his face. "Listen, lady, I don't know who you are, but I'm not interested in your services. I have my own prize-lady to screw as I please."
Finally gaining his second wind, Max sat up and looked the lass over before he cleaned his face of Slasher's slimming spit. "Oh ho! I does believe I have seen ya face b'far. You was here last night. Yup. Ya told some guy off and said ya were goin to tell the sheriff or somethin. Too bad it was the sheriff you were trying to piss off."
Slasher's eyes rolled around their sockets, again. "I'm surrounded by imbeciles." Massaging his temples, the lanky male put his foot on Max's back before he kicked him over. "Sober up. Get educated. Get laid." Shaking his finger in Max's face, he sauntered over to Jo. Yanking a blade from his pocket, he pointed it at her neck. "No funny business, whore." Giving her a good shove, Slasher started to push her toward the bar as he figured Bandit would know what to do with this lady. If he was lucky, someone in the bar would blow a hole in her forehead. Hell, it would make his job easier.
It was then when a devilish gleam came to his eyes. Slasher, you are a genius! To my office we shall go so I can have my way with her! Blade to her back, Slasher twisted her arm behind her back so that if she tried to run she couldn't.
"We're going to my place for some... experimentation." A sinister laugh followed, which probably caused Jo to cringe or shudder in fear. It was not wise to enter the layer of Slasher for when you went in, you never came out whole.
SLASHER POST
This woman sure was an odd one. Sex as a bonus. He agreed with it, but why would she bring that up. Granted, she didn't know what she was getting herself into. Not then, at least.
Change of mind wasn't quite the right choice of words. Well, technically speaking, it was. However, the morbidity that swarmed around his true intentions would surely send the woman to her knees, begging for mercy. Slasher, though gentle as a kitten when with Bandit, was not really a soft guy. Rough around the edges and very grungy. He liked to keep things a mystery and, worse, he loved to play things off as if they were a game. To him, life was a game. Jo's life was just another game. A gamble. If she would escape, she could live. But, if she couldn't, Slasher would have himself another skeleton to add to his locker room full of closets.
Slasher could sense her uneasiness. He could even feel her testing the waters. With a smirk on his face, he pegged that she would either try to elbow his balls or stop on his foot. Those were almost always the first set of things a woman did when trying to escape. In all his years of dealing with this encounters, he learned to come prepared. His feet were covered with steel-toed boots and his crotch had a nice touch layer of hard leather guarding his prized jewels. She could try to assault him, but it just wouldn't work. To further protect himself, Slasher even made sure his chest was protected as were his arms. Men often tried to rip out his arms or stab some blunt object into his chest. Sometimes it worked. But, as of late, it didn't seem to happen.
He could smell her perspiration. It was laced with fear and apprehension. She knew she was in danger. Perhaps the laugh was too much, he thought to himself. Nonetheless, he was ready to make his move and get her right where he wanted her -- on the operation table. But, first, he needed to get her into the cellar and then, into the ER.
Resisting his edgy shoves and trips, he finally released his hold on the woman. Jo was proving to be far too much of a hassle to even try to lure down into his hole. Rather than relying on brute force, he thought he might drug her. Inject her with a monotonous poison and deal with her later. After all, the ER was a frozen place. Ever since the cooling unit malfunctioned, Slasher wasn't able to keep the room above 32 degrees Fahrenheit -- the freezing point for water.
Just before he could shove a needle into the nape of her neck, he heard a door swing open and a male stumbled from the bar's main door. "Meddling in things and you're not even here. Well played, my love. Well played."
Squaring off in front of the woman, Slasher put out his right hand. Offering her a truce. He knew when he was beaten and this was one of those times. Somehow, magically, Bandit and intervened, which meant Slasher would need to get his ass to Bandit ASAP. When she started getting rowdy, he needed to be there to sweep her up and take her home. He couldn't do that if he was dissecting Miss Jo.
"Hate to admit it, but it looks like I've lost this battle. Consider yourself a part of a small group of elitists. There is a small number of people who have made this list. Consider yourself damn lucky to be alive."
With that, the gray-haired man brushed past Jo and ascended the stairs, muttering all the way.
This woman sure was an odd one. Sex as a bonus. He agreed with it, but why would she bring that up. Granted, she didn't know what she was getting herself into. Not then, at least.
Change of mind wasn't quite the right choice of words. Well, technically speaking, it was. However, the morbidity that swarmed around his true intentions would surely send the woman to her knees, begging for mercy. Slasher, though gentle as a kitten when with Bandit, was not really a soft guy. Rough around the edges and very grungy. He liked to keep things a mystery and, worse, he loved to play things off as if they were a game. To him, life was a game. Jo's life was just another game. A gamble. If she would escape, she could live. But, if she couldn't, Slasher would have himself another skeleton to add to his locker room full of closets.
Slasher could sense her uneasiness. He could even feel her testing the waters. With a smirk on his face, he pegged that she would either try to elbow his balls or stop on his foot. Those were almost always the first set of things a woman did when trying to escape. In all his years of dealing with this encounters, he learned to come prepared. His feet were covered with steel-toed boots and his crotch had a nice touch layer of hard leather guarding his prized jewels. She could try to assault him, but it just wouldn't work. To further protect himself, Slasher even made sure his chest was protected as were his arms. Men often tried to rip out his arms or stab some blunt object into his chest. Sometimes it worked. But, as of late, it didn't seem to happen.
He could smell her perspiration. It was laced with fear and apprehension. She knew she was in danger. Perhaps the laugh was too much, he thought to himself. Nonetheless, he was ready to make his move and get her right where he wanted her -- on the operation table. But, first, he needed to get her into the cellar and then, into the ER.
Resisting his edgy shoves and trips, he finally released his hold on the woman. Jo was proving to be far too much of a hassle to even try to lure down into his hole. Rather than relying on brute force, he thought he might drug her. Inject her with a monotonous poison and deal with her later. After all, the ER was a frozen place. Ever since the cooling unit malfunctioned, Slasher wasn't able to keep the room above 32 degrees Fahrenheit -- the freezing point for water.
Just before he could shove a needle into the nape of her neck, he heard a door swing open and a male stumbled from the bar's main door. "Meddling in things and you're not even here. Well played, my love. Well played."
Squaring off in front of the woman, Slasher put out his right hand. Offering her a truce. He knew when he was beaten and this was one of those times. Somehow, magically, Bandit and intervened, which meant Slasher would need to get his ass to Bandit ASAP. When she started getting rowdy, he needed to be there to sweep her up and take her home. He couldn't do that if he was dissecting Miss Jo.
"Hate to admit it, but it looks like I've lost this battle. Consider yourself a part of a small group of elitists. There is a small number of people who have made this list. Consider yourself damn lucky to be alive."
With that, the gray-haired man brushed past Jo and ascended the stairs, muttering all the way.
The setting changes from Lemmon City to Texas, USA
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.
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 setting changes from Texas, USA to Ceder Crest Ridge
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
"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.
Moving onto the next prey, the grizzly haired man was beginning to grow bored with these freaks. They were lethargic and slow, clearly human in nature but numb in the mind. Was there any logic to them? Slasher's scientific mind was beginning to know what was behind these townsfolk lack of luster. Cracking one over the skull, he drove his hands between the fracture and pulled out what looked like a decrepit brain. Taken aback by this, his green eyes wandered to the one he had previously indulged in. With a firm kick of his heel, he forced his way into the corpse's mind to discover that this one's brain was just as feeble. It almost looked rotted. Or rather, riddled with some sort of ailment. Were they poisoned? Did they suffer from cancer? Just as he was about to inspect further, a strong force below him head over heels. Landing with a solid thud, he lay there emotionless.
It took a while to regain his breathing, but he slowly forced his body from the object that impaled his forearm. Wincing, the genius man knew he needed to be fast and cauterize his wound. The flames from the explosion still flickered in the settling smoke and debris, giving Slasher something to work with. Picking up a metal rod, he shoved it into a burning ember. When the tip of the pole was warm enough, he gave it a good firm jab in his injured arm. Biting his tongue so much that it bled, he finished off his job and haphazardly tossed the item aside. Had he not been so lucky, he would have stepped right into the bear trap. Thankfully, the pole triggered the teeth to latch around the hollow object.
This trap piqued his interest. Why was there a trap inside the fence. Hell, why were there explosions? Looking at his feet, he saw the charred remains of bottle caps. Why would some rig a bottle cap mine?
Forcing some air to escape his lungs, he pounded his chest before letting his eyes scan the area. Everything over here was death either thanks to his handiwork or that of the explosion. Cutting off a piece of his shirt's fabric, he wrapped his injured arm in a make-shift sling. It was pretty evident that this guy, although psychotic, knew a thing or two about injuries and medical procedures. With his arm now hugging his body, it was time to begin looking for his separated partner, Bandit.
At first, he was slow to start his jogging, but he eventually picked up the pace. There was a light limp to his stride, which irked him to no end. Looking at his foot, the green eyed man growled. It was just his luck to have his ankle bloodied up. He presumed a hot rock had landed on it and was now eating away at his pant leg and skin. But what was he to do? Stop and mend it? That would take burn cream and time. No, he needed to find his partner.
Moving his only free hand, his left one, to his mouth, he cupped his fingers around it before yelling into the thick air. "BANDIT!" He screamed her name a few more times before he started to worry. Just where was that blond? She was the fearless stalker of the wasteland. Was it possible he perished here? His back became soaked with sweat instantly and he felt clammy as hell. "BANDIT! WHERE ARE YOU!" This call was different than the first. A familiar undertone lingered in it. One of compassion and sorrow. One of fear.
It took a while to regain his breathing, but he slowly forced his body from the object that impaled his forearm. Wincing, the genius man knew he needed to be fast and cauterize his wound. The flames from the explosion still flickered in the settling smoke and debris, giving Slasher something to work with. Picking up a metal rod, he shoved it into a burning ember. When the tip of the pole was warm enough, he gave it a good firm jab in his injured arm. Biting his tongue so much that it bled, he finished off his job and haphazardly tossed the item aside. Had he not been so lucky, he would have stepped right into the bear trap. Thankfully, the pole triggered the teeth to latch around the hollow object.
This trap piqued his interest. Why was there a trap inside the fence. Hell, why were there explosions? Looking at his feet, he saw the charred remains of bottle caps. Why would some rig a bottle cap mine?
Forcing some air to escape his lungs, he pounded his chest before letting his eyes scan the area. Everything over here was death either thanks to his handiwork or that of the explosion. Cutting off a piece of his shirt's fabric, he wrapped his injured arm in a make-shift sling. It was pretty evident that this guy, although psychotic, knew a thing or two about injuries and medical procedures. With his arm now hugging his body, it was time to begin looking for his separated partner, Bandit.
At first, he was slow to start his jogging, but he eventually picked up the pace. There was a light limp to his stride, which irked him to no end. Looking at his foot, the green eyed man growled. It was just his luck to have his ankle bloodied up. He presumed a hot rock had landed on it and was now eating away at his pant leg and skin. But what was he to do? Stop and mend it? That would take burn cream and time. No, he needed to find his partner.
Moving his only free hand, his left one, to his mouth, he cupped his fingers around it before yelling into the thick air. "BANDIT!" He screamed her name a few more times before he started to worry. Just where was that blond? She was the fearless stalker of the wasteland. Was it possible he perished here? His back became soaked with sweat instantly and he felt clammy as hell. "BANDIT! WHERE ARE YOU!" This call was different than the first. A familiar undertone lingered in it. One of compassion and sorrow. One of fear.
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.
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.
The setting changes from Ceder Crest Ridge to Texas, USA
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.
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.
The setting changes from Texas, USA to Ceder Crest Ridge
Perhaps it was unwise to linger in an area with zombified humans, but the grizzled man had no choice for love was the only thing that kept him going at this point. Tears rolling down his cheeks as ever carcass he turned over was hollow and without her face, Slasher was beginning to feel more and more alone. To say he was used to it would be a lie, for Slasher always lingered near a town with living people while she was away on her hunting missions. Cursing at himself for allowing his woman to run without him, Slash staggered toward another corpse. "Please don't be her," he whispered before flipping the managed torso over. It was a man's flat chest and it gave Slasher another ounce of hope that his bonny lass was still alive. Where she was, though, still eluded him.
Lips caked in dried blood, Slasher let his tongue loll from his lips. Although partially dried, his tongue was still wet enough to lap up the crimson treat that circled his jaw. Elbow raising, he removed the rest of the blood with the sleeve of his shirt. At least he wouldn't look like a blood-sucker now, right? Granted, his eyes still had flecks of blood painted around them and his upper cheek had a streak of deep, rusty murky blood-mud on it. And then there were his hands. He would need to wash them in a stream or something if he wished to rid the look of a murderer from his appearance. Slasher could lie though. He could say he killed a Brahmin. As his eyes looked around the desolate village, he began to realize that a two-headed cow might not be plausible. Perhaps he murdered a Trog? No, it didn't look like this area would have frog-like humans. A mole rat seemed acceptable. Or maybe even a coy dog (coyote). Slasher had no idea why he was so worried about his potential cover story, but it seemed rather important. After all, who would let a man who eats humans go free? He certainly was what one would call 'normal.' Then again, they were in a wasteland that was laced with radiation poisoning, thugs, and vicious, hideous radiated creature. Was a cannibal really that bad? Probably not. Seemed better than a Deathclaw, at least in his mind.
While mulling over his alibi, something in the far distance glimmered among the sea of browns, reds, and tans. There was a small beckon of light, a ray of hope. Turning his body toward that fleeting gleam, he squinted his dull eyes and tried to block out the sun. If he could just focus hard enough, he might be able to see what was up the ridge. With any luck, it would be Bandit! Although, the more Slasher stared up the hill, the more he realized that Bandit would actively be trying to contact him. Something about this flick of light seemed off.
Slinking back into the rubble around him, Slasher tried to hide his ghastly form from whatever was on high. Was it just a cap? No, a cap would continue to flicker as the sun glistened on it. Whatever this thing was, wasn't just sitting there. Squinting again, he tried to make out whether or not it moved. Or it if was a stationary object. However, the sight was just outside his range of seeing. He had better than 20/20 vision, but he didn't have telescope eyes.
What if it were the barrel of a sniper rifle? Eyes wide with alarm, Slasher gulped. Was someone onto him? Peeking around the corner again, he tried to draw out what was happening way up on the ridge. It was probably a hunter. What were the odds that he saw everything? Oh god, there was no way he could look for Bandit now.
Wait! What if Bandit were up there and in danger! That spot on the ridge was just far enough away that, if she ran, she might be up there by now. Gritting his teeth, the male pulled out his Ratslayer. It just so happened to be his sniping weapon of choice. Dropping to the ground so that his belly was in the debris, he steadied the gun on his forearm and ground. Looking through the scope, he could now see past the line of sight his eyes stopped at. The only issue was, the small scope would require him to move around a lot to find the exact location. Slowly, but surely, he found that spot where the flickering light came from.
The ground looked odd. There was a faint white color to it. Gunpowder? Salt? It just looked unnatural. Raising the barrel some so the scope would look higher, he found footprints. They seemed to be skirting off toward the top of the ridge more. But the more he stared at the steps, the more he realized the drag marks alongside the steady paced footprints.
"Bandit," he murmured in disbelief.
Pulling his eye back to the scope, he frantically looked around the area to see if he could find anything else. Sure enough, there was some blood in the sand. Or at least he presumed it to be blood by its dark nature. Shit, he cursed to himself. Just what was going on! Why weren't there any sound cues or leads. Right now, he was just aimlessly guessing at the truth. Usually his perception and intuition were spot-on, but he did occasionally guess wrong. Still, he had to believe that something was afoot.
And then the crack-bang-boom came. Jumping out of his skin, Slasher clung to his Ratslayer for his life. The hell just happened, he wondered as he patted himself to ensure he was still alive. Looking around, his dilated orbs landed on the smoke trail of what looked like an explosion.
Jaw clenched and nerves on the fray, Slasher rose. He didn't have a choice. He was going to have to make a bee-line in that direction. With any luck, Bandit would be nearby. If not, he would press onward and try to follow the footsteps, assuming the wind didn't sweep them away.
Lips caked in dried blood, Slasher let his tongue loll from his lips. Although partially dried, his tongue was still wet enough to lap up the crimson treat that circled his jaw. Elbow raising, he removed the rest of the blood with the sleeve of his shirt. At least he wouldn't look like a blood-sucker now, right? Granted, his eyes still had flecks of blood painted around them and his upper cheek had a streak of deep, rusty murky blood-mud on it. And then there were his hands. He would need to wash them in a stream or something if he wished to rid the look of a murderer from his appearance. Slasher could lie though. He could say he killed a Brahmin. As his eyes looked around the desolate village, he began to realize that a two-headed cow might not be plausible. Perhaps he murdered a Trog? No, it didn't look like this area would have frog-like humans. A mole rat seemed acceptable. Or maybe even a coy dog (coyote). Slasher had no idea why he was so worried about his potential cover story, but it seemed rather important. After all, who would let a man who eats humans go free? He certainly was what one would call 'normal.' Then again, they were in a wasteland that was laced with radiation poisoning, thugs, and vicious, hideous radiated creature. Was a cannibal really that bad? Probably not. Seemed better than a Deathclaw, at least in his mind.
While mulling over his alibi, something in the far distance glimmered among the sea of browns, reds, and tans. There was a small beckon of light, a ray of hope. Turning his body toward that fleeting gleam, he squinted his dull eyes and tried to block out the sun. If he could just focus hard enough, he might be able to see what was up the ridge. With any luck, it would be Bandit! Although, the more Slasher stared up the hill, the more he realized that Bandit would actively be trying to contact him. Something about this flick of light seemed off.
Slinking back into the rubble around him, Slasher tried to hide his ghastly form from whatever was on high. Was it just a cap? No, a cap would continue to flicker as the sun glistened on it. Whatever this thing was, wasn't just sitting there. Squinting again, he tried to make out whether or not it moved. Or it if was a stationary object. However, the sight was just outside his range of seeing. He had better than 20/20 vision, but he didn't have telescope eyes.
What if it were the barrel of a sniper rifle? Eyes wide with alarm, Slasher gulped. Was someone onto him? Peeking around the corner again, he tried to draw out what was happening way up on the ridge. It was probably a hunter. What were the odds that he saw everything? Oh god, there was no way he could look for Bandit now.
Wait! What if Bandit were up there and in danger! That spot on the ridge was just far enough away that, if she ran, she might be up there by now. Gritting his teeth, the male pulled out his Ratslayer. It just so happened to be his sniping weapon of choice. Dropping to the ground so that his belly was in the debris, he steadied the gun on his forearm and ground. Looking through the scope, he could now see past the line of sight his eyes stopped at. The only issue was, the small scope would require him to move around a lot to find the exact location. Slowly, but surely, he found that spot where the flickering light came from.
The ground looked odd. There was a faint white color to it. Gunpowder? Salt? It just looked unnatural. Raising the barrel some so the scope would look higher, he found footprints. They seemed to be skirting off toward the top of the ridge more. But the more he stared at the steps, the more he realized the drag marks alongside the steady paced footprints.
"Bandit," he murmured in disbelief.
Pulling his eye back to the scope, he frantically looked around the area to see if he could find anything else. Sure enough, there was some blood in the sand. Or at least he presumed it to be blood by its dark nature. Shit, he cursed to himself. Just what was going on! Why weren't there any sound cues or leads. Right now, he was just aimlessly guessing at the truth. Usually his perception and intuition were spot-on, but he did occasionally guess wrong. Still, he had to believe that something was afoot.
And then the crack-bang-boom came. Jumping out of his skin, Slasher clung to his Ratslayer for his life. The hell just happened, he wondered as he patted himself to ensure he was still alive. Looking around, his dilated orbs landed on the smoke trail of what looked like an explosion.
Jaw clenched and nerves on the fray, Slasher rose. He didn't have a choice. He was going to have to make a bee-line in that direction. With any luck, Bandit would be nearby. If not, he would press onward and try to follow the footsteps, assuming the wind didn't sweep them away.
He had finally made it to the spot where the earth was charred due to an explosion. Patting the soiled earth, he tried to seek out clues. From the look of things, a bottle cap mine had been placed. But why? There was nothing threatening up here. There had to be a purpose behind it. There just had to be! Only, with each passing minute, it started to look like it was purely accidental. Perhaps it was old and faulty, only just now exploding after years of being set. It didn't seem likely, but Slasher learned not to assume facts and fiction on the wasteland. He had seen a lot of things that should only exist in lore. If anything, he learned to embrace the irrational thinking. It often opened doors that eventually lead to the truth.
Just when he was about to turn up empty handed, something caught his eye. A single shoe lace draped across a slight hill of sand. Eyes snaking down the slender cord, they landed on the note fixed at the end. Instantly driving for it, he took in the message.
At this point, Slasher wasn't sure if he should be enraged that someone would steal his woman or if he should be shedding tears of rejoice and relief. Of course he was happy she was alive, but he wasn't overly fond of someone else tramping around the wasteland with his woman. Lip curling up to reveal a snarl, Slasher's green orbs lost their human touch. He was letting his rage pulse through him and control his actions and movements. He would think like a beast if it meant finding Bandit.
Screaming into the silenced air, his nostrils flailed as he huffed about the note's meaning. He was going to kill this guy, especially if he dare lay a hand on his woman. Oh yes, there would be hell to pay if Bandit came back with a scar on her skin.
Balling up the paper so that he could use it later to reclaim his blond, Slasher rose. Eyes ascending up the hill, he knew he would have to trek that way if he wished to find her. It was best to have high ground. With any luck, his scope would pick up anything that moved and he could blast a hole in said object. Pushing off the ground with his knees, Slasher growled again.
"I swear to god, if they hurt you, I will kill them."
"Oh Dimitri, don't think with rage."
Her voice came from behind him. Whirling around, he stared up at her shimmering body. Clearly a hallucination, he didn't care. He needed to see her and this mirage was going to have to do. Hand reaching up to touch her, the tears started to come. No matter how hot, dry, or thirsty he was, Slasher could always produce tears when he saw his Bandit.
"Don't cry, love. I'm fine. I'm fine."
"But someone stole you from me."
"As if," her hand fell on her hip. "No one can steal me from you. I'm yours. Always have been and I always will be. But Dim, now's not the time to find me. You need to complete your focus; continue your mission."
"No, I need you." His hand was still outstretched to her transparent body. "I can't go on without you."
"You can and you will. The fate of the world rests in your hands. You were told to collect water samples from around the wasteland. Don't forget that. If you success and your friends can find purify the water, life will improve greatly. Not to mention, what about the cure. The cure for radiation poisoning. Or the vaccine to prevent people from getting sick?"
Looking away, Slasher wrapped his arms around himself. It was painful to be alone with nothing but her illusions on his mind. As crazy as he looked to those witnessing his conversation with the air, at least he was finding his way. At least he wouldn't pursue Terrence and kill him. At least not now.
"Can you do that for me? Can you do that for us? You told me that you wanted to start a family. That can't happen until we have the water and medicine to do so."
He sighed. "Yeah, I know...."
"Then go. Do what you need to do. We'll be reunited in no time."
Now on his feet, Slasher wrapped his arm around the mirage. "I'm going to miss you."
"And I you, love."
Stepping through her ghostly figure, Slasher trudged back down the hill and toward that demon-infested water. Perhaps this would be the beginning of something huge.
"Slash," her voice called him back. "Don't be a hero. Don't make any sacrifices. You need to be alive to be a father. Okay?"
"Me? A hero?" He scoffed. "I think the heat is getting to me." Pulling his arm down into a fist before his chest, he smirked over at the fading illusion. "You've nothing to fear, my Jessica. I will succeed. And I shall come for you when fate allows."
With his new found resolution and courage, the gray haired man descended down the hill. With the words of Bandit still ringing in his ear, a smile crept onto his face. "I won't fail you, Jess. Our future rides on my success."
Just when he was about to turn up empty handed, something caught his eye. A single shoe lace draped across a slight hill of sand. Eyes snaking down the slender cord, they landed on the note fixed at the end. Instantly driving for it, he took in the message.
At this point, Slasher wasn't sure if he should be enraged that someone would steal his woman or if he should be shedding tears of rejoice and relief. Of course he was happy she was alive, but he wasn't overly fond of someone else tramping around the wasteland with his woman. Lip curling up to reveal a snarl, Slasher's green orbs lost their human touch. He was letting his rage pulse through him and control his actions and movements. He would think like a beast if it meant finding Bandit.
Screaming into the silenced air, his nostrils flailed as he huffed about the note's meaning. He was going to kill this guy, especially if he dare lay a hand on his woman. Oh yes, there would be hell to pay if Bandit came back with a scar on her skin.
Balling up the paper so that he could use it later to reclaim his blond, Slasher rose. Eyes ascending up the hill, he knew he would have to trek that way if he wished to find her. It was best to have high ground. With any luck, his scope would pick up anything that moved and he could blast a hole in said object. Pushing off the ground with his knees, Slasher growled again.
"I swear to god, if they hurt you, I will kill them."
"Oh Dimitri, don't think with rage."
Her voice came from behind him. Whirling around, he stared up at her shimmering body. Clearly a hallucination, he didn't care. He needed to see her and this mirage was going to have to do. Hand reaching up to touch her, the tears started to come. No matter how hot, dry, or thirsty he was, Slasher could always produce tears when he saw his Bandit.
"Don't cry, love. I'm fine. I'm fine."
"But someone stole you from me."
"As if," her hand fell on her hip. "No one can steal me from you. I'm yours. Always have been and I always will be. But Dim, now's not the time to find me. You need to complete your focus; continue your mission."
"No, I need you." His hand was still outstretched to her transparent body. "I can't go on without you."
"You can and you will. The fate of the world rests in your hands. You were told to collect water samples from around the wasteland. Don't forget that. If you success and your friends can find purify the water, life will improve greatly. Not to mention, what about the cure. The cure for radiation poisoning. Or the vaccine to prevent people from getting sick?"
Looking away, Slasher wrapped his arms around himself. It was painful to be alone with nothing but her illusions on his mind. As crazy as he looked to those witnessing his conversation with the air, at least he was finding his way. At least he wouldn't pursue Terrence and kill him. At least not now.
"Can you do that for me? Can you do that for us? You told me that you wanted to start a family. That can't happen until we have the water and medicine to do so."
He sighed. "Yeah, I know...."
"Then go. Do what you need to do. We'll be reunited in no time."
Now on his feet, Slasher wrapped his arm around the mirage. "I'm going to miss you."
"And I you, love."
Stepping through her ghostly figure, Slasher trudged back down the hill and toward that demon-infested water. Perhaps this would be the beginning of something huge.
"Slash," her voice called him back. "Don't be a hero. Don't make any sacrifices. You need to be alive to be a father. Okay?"
"Me? A hero?" He scoffed. "I think the heat is getting to me." Pulling his arm down into a fist before his chest, he smirked over at the fading illusion. "You've nothing to fear, my Jessica. I will succeed. And I shall come for you when fate allows."
With his new found resolution and courage, the gray haired man descended down the hill. With the words of Bandit still ringing in his ear, a smile crept onto his face. "I won't fail you, Jess. Our future rides on my success."
The setting changes from Ceder Crest Ridge to Texas, USA
The powder from before still has its hold on the woman. Despite being a light sleeper, with this stuff, she was out cold. Thankfully, her nap from earlier plus these decent few hours of sleep was more than enough to flush out any effects of the powder. She dared not moan as she stirred from the bed. It had a faint smell to it that was unpleasant, but when you're sleepy, you sleep. Rising so that she now sat on the bed, a hand went to her hair and gave it a good scratch. Boy what she would give for a shower right now. The idea of bathing sent a chill down her spine. It was a good chill, but it wasn't about to happen anytime soon. Showers on the wasteland were a hard thing to come by.
With silent footsteps, she stepped across the floor. Not once did a board creek. It was one of the perks of being a true bandit; she truly was a stealth-ninja when it came to things. She was an expert lockpick, too. Not to mention, the woman had pick-pocketed enough people to call it a full-time job. It was really how she made a name for herself. Bandit wasn't self-given. No, it was earned. She adopted the face mask late into the game, as per Slasher's suggestion. Ah yes, she could remember that conversation like it were yesterday....
The memories of that day were so vivid in her mind. She could still feel the fear that first entered her heart. It was the first time she feared the man she traveled with. And yet, in that same day, Slasher saved her. He became the hero she needed. He erased all her mishaps. He destroyed all proof that she, Jessica Lynne Garrette, existed. If it weren't for his hard work and dedication, she would probably be dead. Or worse, in the clutches of the Enclave Red Ops.
Now on the roof, she signaled for Terrence to head in for some shuteye. She would spend the last few hours of the early morning keeping a wary eye on the horizon. And, while doing that, she would replay images and memories of Slasher in her mind. For as scary as the man could be, his arms were still home to her. With a look of longing, she stared out across the darkness before her. "Oh Dimitri, I hope you are fairing well on your own...."
With silent footsteps, she stepped across the floor. Not once did a board creek. It was one of the perks of being a true bandit; she truly was a stealth-ninja when it came to things. She was an expert lockpick, too. Not to mention, the woman had pick-pocketed enough people to call it a full-time job. It was really how she made a name for herself. Bandit wasn't self-given. No, it was earned. She adopted the face mask late into the game, as per Slasher's suggestion. Ah yes, she could remember that conversation like it were yesterday....
- Slipping across the marbled floor, her body took to the stairs. Skipping every other step, she wouldn't stop until she was beside the safe on the top floor. Eyes peeled and ears listening to the faintest of sounds, the woman scurried beside the door that protected the safe. With a smug grin on her face, she pulled out her bobby pin and began her work. It didn't take long to pick it, for she had spent many years honing her skill. Once inside, she tiptoed across the floor. The sleeping elite had no idea the blond was even in his room. His whore of a woman? She was worshiping the porcelain throne. Too much to drink, she presumed.
With luck, Bandit moved past the occupied room. Dipping behind a couch, she pulled out another bobby pin. Into the keyhole it went. This lock was much harder to pick and, truthfully, it was probably the worst one she had yet to deal with. After all, who could honestly stand listening to a woman emptying her stomach in another room. It was downright nauseating and Bandit found herself suppressing the urge to hurl every now and again.
Finally! The safe was open. Being careful with the hinge, for it appeared rusted, she peered inside at the golden contents. Greedy fingers tugged out the goods within and dumped them into the small satchel at her hip. Securing the safe again so it looked like nothing was stolen, Bandit moved back across the room. Only, this time, her shadow caused a slight hiccup in her actions.
The woman from before must have seen something for she whirled around. The brown eyes of the whore meet the blue eyes of Bandit. Doubling over the toilet again, the whore didn't seem to care that a blue-eyed thief was raiding her partner's stash of gold jewels. Not wasting a second, Bandit dashed across the room and down the stairs. There was no time to be sneaky, especially with someone seeing her exposed face.
There would be no coming back here, at least not for a while. She ran hard and long to the next city and, by the time she made it there, a wall of posters with her pretty face were put up. Mortified, Bandit turned away. Just as she were about to jump town again, a wall stopped her. Panic in her eyes, she looked up at whatever stopped her.
"You've been reckless, Jess. And now I have to clean up after you." Slasher's hand reached down and gave Bandit's wrist a good tug. Stumbling backwards into the dirt, she blinked up at her partner. This was the first time she'd ever seen him this mad. Heart racing and sweat spilling down the sides of her face, she cowered away from his striking hand. It was the first time he hit her. Falling unconscious, she wouldn't come to until last into the evening.
"Wh-wha-what happened?" Her hand reached up to touch the man sleeping beside her. A large scar across his face and blood splattered all over his clothes. "Dim, what happened?" Worry started to make its way into her pitchy-voice.
"I told you, I had a mess to clean up." Hand burrowing into his pocket, he pulled out a silky, black piece of cloth. Two holes appeared in it as he draped it in her hand. "From now on, you're to hide your true face. Never again will the people of Texas know who you are. Henceforth, you're Bandit."
A lump was in her throat. Something felt really wrong. Really, really wrong. "Dim, what did you do?" Tears fell over her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "Dimitri... what did you do?"
"I killed them all. Every last one of them." A wicked grin seeped onto his face. "I got my nickname, too. Call me... Slasher."
The memories of that day were so vivid in her mind. She could still feel the fear that first entered her heart. It was the first time she feared the man she traveled with. And yet, in that same day, Slasher saved her. He became the hero she needed. He erased all her mishaps. He destroyed all proof that she, Jessica Lynne Garrette, existed. If it weren't for his hard work and dedication, she would probably be dead. Or worse, in the clutches of the Enclave Red Ops.
Now on the roof, she signaled for Terrence to head in for some shuteye. She would spend the last few hours of the early morning keeping a wary eye on the horizon. And, while doing that, she would replay images and memories of Slasher in her mind. For as scary as the man could be, his arms were still home to her. With a look of longing, she stared out across the darkness before her. "Oh Dimitri, I hope you are fairing well on your own...."
With some fine tuning, he could see everything. His vision was already impressive, but it was more so now that he had binoculars to aid. A low rumble came form his stomach. Reaching down, he dared not remove his hands from the apparatus. He was too busy following everything; catching up and learning oh-so-much about the strangers before them.
When his fingers touched the dyed red and cream colored snacks at his knees. They were mainly picked clean, but some sucking and breaking could free up more meat that could curb his hunger. Binoculars bobbing ever so slightly as he crunched down on his treat, the weathered man smirked. This was just what he wanted. It was tough enough to release his pent-up fury. Gnawing released its weak points and in no time the sound of teeth on bone pulsed across the wind. Granted, it was fleeting and only seemed to cause a nearby rabbit-of-sorts to flee in fear. Tongue lapping upward and catching the dips between his perfectly position teeth, his grin widened. There was just something delightful about eating man, especially now as he stared across the sandy mounds at the one who frisked and fondled his woman.
Brows sharp and enraged hovered over his equally malice orbs of fierce intensity. Beyond pissed, Slasher wanted to lunge forward and put an end to this man "Null." The more he watched the dark haired beau, the harder it became to control the feral side of himself. Oh how he wanted to mull this man to bits and enjoy every bloody bone in his body. He would enjoy eating his beating heart the most. Ripping it, no, prying it from his cold chest as he dared to place a hand on his woman. He would make Null cry, scream, and beg for death. And Slasher? He wouldn't give it to him. Well, he would, but not in a human way. While he devoured Null's heart, he would always peel away his flesh, patch by patch, and enjoy its dry, arid taste. It would be like jerky on his tongue, until he hit the oozing blood and guts, easily the cream and sugar of the feast.
Mouth watering, Slasher fought with himself. Now was not the time to assault this man. Not yet. It wasn't a fair fight. He, Slasher, could easily mow down Null. He was weak and slowly losing strength with each passing hour. If he attacked now, he would have no pride to share. He would merely have one against a weak, beaten animal. Where was the game and fun in that? No, he wanted Null alive, healthy, and well. He wanted Null at the pinnacle of his strength and wit. That way, when he won, and he would win, Slasher could boast to the world that he killed this soldier-like man.
Bone now completely devoured, Slasher pulled his eyes from the scene of his woman and Null. They rest on the few scraps at his side. Picking up another bone, he lapped his tongue over it, much like a greedy dog. It was still so tender and juicy. It still hit the spot, even after being a few days old. As he broke it into halves and then quarters then pieces, he recalled what allowed him his great feast....
After losing Bandit to whatever in that plagued town, Slasher was left to fend for himself. He ate the bodies of those he killed and he tore them apart, limb by limb, for easy carrying. During his wandering, he happened upon a cow-like creature and set it free in the direction of Bandit. He needed her to hold onto the bloody water he collected, the water with the poisons that made the townsfolk go mad. While doing that, he spied the river that he presumed was the source for the madness. Sure enough, it was. Perks of having a strong constitution allowed Slasher a little drink of the water, though the second it hit his tongue, he spat it out. Poison was poison was poison. As a man of the medical-ish profession, he knew toxins when he tasted (and smelled) them.
He spent a day exploring the area and gathering intel. He learned that the water was being poisoned on purpose. It was a trap, a trap to mind-control the village folk AND a trap that would imprison innocent passerby. Those who weren't of wits and brawn would surely fall victim to the creators of the poison water. And, as expected, those creators did arrive. And, when they did, they saw a mighty bloodbath and one hellish looking human standing in the midst of blood-stained soil and half-eaten bodies and bones.
Some would call it an act of suicide, but Slasher spent his whole life fighting the odds. Luck, on his side or not, would prove useless in this fight against these creatures. No matter how many came (there were four), he would destroy them and put an end to their tormenting ways.
The battle lasted for about 8-hours and when it was all said and done, Slasher was left with a bitten, infected hand. As protocol states, you remove the issue and stop the spread. So he did just that. Down two and a half fingers (pinkie to middle on the left hand), Slasher cauterized his amputation and wrapped it with the medical apparatus he always wore around his thighs and calves. It was a bloody mess and, yes, it hurt like hell. His screams were enough to cause even the coy-dogs to run in fear for whatever could howl that mad was truly mad itself.
Chomping down on his final bone, the thing cracked and his grimace deepened. "Tch," he spat into the sand, "running to Aegis. How pathetic." Still, in his heart, he knew it a wise move. At least Bandit would be safe.
Gathering up his gear, Slasher glanced down at his hand. The bleeding had finally stopped, as had the pain. Perhaps he killed the nerve? It was better that way. One less thing to worry about. Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, the lankly male snorted before running down the dunes and brush that veiled him from Null's fading senses. In no time, he would be stationed outside Aegis. And then... then the real fun could begin. Though perhaps not in Aegis, for the place was too peaceful and kind. After all, Aegis would save his Bandit and it was rude to openly destroy a place of such hospitality. Perhaps... perhaps upon departure he could jump the man that dared look at his woman with bedroom eyes. Perhaps then he could unleash his cannibalistic hell on the poor, unsuspecting man named Null.
When his fingers touched the dyed red and cream colored snacks at his knees. They were mainly picked clean, but some sucking and breaking could free up more meat that could curb his hunger. Binoculars bobbing ever so slightly as he crunched down on his treat, the weathered man smirked. This was just what he wanted. It was tough enough to release his pent-up fury. Gnawing released its weak points and in no time the sound of teeth on bone pulsed across the wind. Granted, it was fleeting and only seemed to cause a nearby rabbit-of-sorts to flee in fear. Tongue lapping upward and catching the dips between his perfectly position teeth, his grin widened. There was just something delightful about eating man, especially now as he stared across the sandy mounds at the one who frisked and fondled his woman.
Brows sharp and enraged hovered over his equally malice orbs of fierce intensity. Beyond pissed, Slasher wanted to lunge forward and put an end to this man "Null." The more he watched the dark haired beau, the harder it became to control the feral side of himself. Oh how he wanted to mull this man to bits and enjoy every bloody bone in his body. He would enjoy eating his beating heart the most. Ripping it, no, prying it from his cold chest as he dared to place a hand on his woman. He would make Null cry, scream, and beg for death. And Slasher? He wouldn't give it to him. Well, he would, but not in a human way. While he devoured Null's heart, he would always peel away his flesh, patch by patch, and enjoy its dry, arid taste. It would be like jerky on his tongue, until he hit the oozing blood and guts, easily the cream and sugar of the feast.
Mouth watering, Slasher fought with himself. Now was not the time to assault this man. Not yet. It wasn't a fair fight. He, Slasher, could easily mow down Null. He was weak and slowly losing strength with each passing hour. If he attacked now, he would have no pride to share. He would merely have one against a weak, beaten animal. Where was the game and fun in that? No, he wanted Null alive, healthy, and well. He wanted Null at the pinnacle of his strength and wit. That way, when he won, and he would win, Slasher could boast to the world that he killed this soldier-like man.
Bone now completely devoured, Slasher pulled his eyes from the scene of his woman and Null. They rest on the few scraps at his side. Picking up another bone, he lapped his tongue over it, much like a greedy dog. It was still so tender and juicy. It still hit the spot, even after being a few days old. As he broke it into halves and then quarters then pieces, he recalled what allowed him his great feast....
After losing Bandit to whatever in that plagued town, Slasher was left to fend for himself. He ate the bodies of those he killed and he tore them apart, limb by limb, for easy carrying. During his wandering, he happened upon a cow-like creature and set it free in the direction of Bandit. He needed her to hold onto the bloody water he collected, the water with the poisons that made the townsfolk go mad. While doing that, he spied the river that he presumed was the source for the madness. Sure enough, it was. Perks of having a strong constitution allowed Slasher a little drink of the water, though the second it hit his tongue, he spat it out. Poison was poison was poison. As a man of the medical-ish profession, he knew toxins when he tasted (and smelled) them.
He spent a day exploring the area and gathering intel. He learned that the water was being poisoned on purpose. It was a trap, a trap to mind-control the village folk AND a trap that would imprison innocent passerby. Those who weren't of wits and brawn would surely fall victim to the creators of the poison water. And, as expected, those creators did arrive. And, when they did, they saw a mighty bloodbath and one hellish looking human standing in the midst of blood-stained soil and half-eaten bodies and bones.
Some would call it an act of suicide, but Slasher spent his whole life fighting the odds. Luck, on his side or not, would prove useless in this fight against these creatures. No matter how many came (there were four), he would destroy them and put an end to their tormenting ways.
The battle lasted for about 8-hours and when it was all said and done, Slasher was left with a bitten, infected hand. As protocol states, you remove the issue and stop the spread. So he did just that. Down two and a half fingers (pinkie to middle on the left hand), Slasher cauterized his amputation and wrapped it with the medical apparatus he always wore around his thighs and calves. It was a bloody mess and, yes, it hurt like hell. His screams were enough to cause even the coy-dogs to run in fear for whatever could howl that mad was truly mad itself.
Chomping down on his final bone, the thing cracked and his grimace deepened. "Tch," he spat into the sand, "running to Aegis. How pathetic." Still, in his heart, he knew it a wise move. At least Bandit would be safe.
Gathering up his gear, Slasher glanced down at his hand. The bleeding had finally stopped, as had the pain. Perhaps he killed the nerve? It was better that way. One less thing to worry about. Slinging his weapon over his shoulder, the lankly male snorted before running down the dunes and brush that veiled him from Null's fading senses. In no time, he would be stationed outside Aegis. And then... then the real fun could begin. Though perhaps not in Aegis, for the place was too peaceful and kind. After all, Aegis would save his Bandit and it was rude to openly destroy a place of such hospitality. Perhaps... perhaps upon departure he could jump the man that dared look at his woman with bedroom eyes. Perhaps then he could unleash his cannibalistic hell on the poor, unsuspecting man named Null.
"NO!" The woman sat up in the bed drenched in sweat and tears. Eyes riddled with panic, she tossed her head from side to side. Where was she. How did she get her. What happened!
Heart-rate increasing, the machines at her side seemed to go off. It was then when she realized that her health was being monitored. Instantly, she tore herself free of such tooling and apparatus. Flinging the sheets off her, the blonde's crazed, fearful eyes spun around the room. Why was she here! How did she get here! What the fuck happened!
In seconds, a nurse was in the room. Her voice, subdued, subtle, soft, wasn't reaching Bandit's cloudy ears. Gripping the pillow in her hands, Bandit found herself sinking into a corner. Cowering, fearing, trembling, she fought whatever demons ate away at her sanity. The tears came rolling down her cheeks in great waves and she lost herself to the madness that swelled her mind....
She kissed him. It felt so right. So perfect. So real. She needed more. More of his gentle touch. More of his love. More of him. Hand gliding up his face, Bandit gazed into those beautiful crystalline blue orbs of Null's. Booping his nose with her extended index finger, a light giggle passed her lips. "You're cute." Her lips brushed against his, though only for a second. Pulling back, a grin widened on her face. "C'mon, let's go get some breakfast." Her hand intertwined with his. It felt amazing to be this close to someone. To truly hold and be held by someone. Someone you loved and someone who returned the feelings.
Swinging their hands, the pair moved from their humble bedroom into what looked like a small kitchenette affixed to a living quarters. "One delish breakfast coming up," she chimed, still grinning ear to ear. The sex the night prior must have put her in a good mood, for her whole body bubbled with giddy nature.
In no time, they were eating but eating soon became a game of foreplay which lead to some ruffled sheets and 'sexy' hairdos.
With their morning scuffle done, the two could finally leave to wander the streets of Aegis. It was there where the dangers first started to eat away at her. They walked all so unknowingly into a trap laid by her previous fling, Slasher.
"Please, Slash, let me explain," Bandit pleaded on her knees. Eyes full of tears, she stared up into the cannibalistic eyes of the grizzled man. Slasher's grip, iron-tight, and without the looks of easing up, choked the life out of Null. No matter how much she pleaded, Slasher wouldn't ease up or let the man go.
He knew their secret. He knew what they did. He knew that she betrayed him and laid in bed with another man.
Hellbent on making Null pay, Slasher ripped out a knife and pried it into the man's eye socket. The blood the gushed from the new wound instantly spun Bandit's stomach around. Vomiting in the streets, she fought to scream as her stomach emptied itself. She screamed, begged, fought. She did everything and Slasher's rage went on.
Moments later, Slasher was striping Null of his clothing. Nude in the streets, Slasher dug his claws into the male's skin. Every inch he tore at opened into welts and soon his body bleed. Slasher, consumed in the revenge, laughed viciously as he did everything. The look in his eyes was one of sheer fright and terror. The man she once loved became a monster. A true monster among men.
"DIMITRI, PLEASE!" Her voice was fading. Null's blood was draining. Everything was getting so hard. So heavy.
Hand out, she reached for Null's hand. Holding it tight, she pleaded yet again with the man that killed her new dream, her Null.
"Please... please stop. Please... or you'll kill me."
But Slasher didn't care. In one final move, he lopped off Null's head and held the dis-formed trophy in his hands. Hair ripping from the lifeless skull, Slasher flung the cleaved head toward the woman that now looked ghostly white.
"Remember who you belong to," he spat. Between Slasher's saliva and Null's blood, bile, and guts, Bandit lost it. Eyes rolling back, her mind fell numb. Everything. Everything was over. She wanted to die. No, needed to die.
The tears were back. Looking at her hands, she noted some blood caked beneath her nails. Was it Null's blood? Her eyes rolled back and she felt like dying. No, no, no, no, no. That couldn't have been real. It couldn't! She was so helpless! So weak! So pathetic! She didn't even try to hurt Slasher. Why. Why was she so frozen in fear?
A lump formed in her throat. Everything before her faded, save for the blood beneath her nails. There was nothing but silence and ghostly white fear.
"I'm so sorry, Null. I failed you."
A rich, bitter scent wafted into her nostrils. Shaking her head, Bandit's senses came to as she gazed up at a frightful nurse.
"Miss, are you okay? You fainted and I was worried."
In a jerking motion, Bandit pinned the nurse to the wall where she once sat. Control in her eyes, the blonde woman gave the nurse a good shake. "Tell me, woman, what happened to Null!" Grit teeth and marred eyes, Bandit prepared for the worse and, should such news kiss her ears, this nurse would be the first to die in Bandit's Bloodbath.
"He's out for breakfast. I-I-I... I can sh," the nurse flushed red for in that moment, she received a hug. It came out of nowhere and it was surprisingly gentle, warm, and loving.
"Thank god," Bandit said with a sigh of relief. "I must ask, has a man named Slasher come to...." Where was she? Blinking, the empty room gave no hints. "Where am I?"
"Why you're in Aegis. And no, no Slasher here. Why do you ask?"
"Alert who ever is in charge. Make certain he doesn't get into this city. If he does, there will be much blood and suffering."
Pulling from the nurse, Bandit stripped from her robes and dolled herself back up in her usual getup (which was recently washed, what a nice surprise). Nudge in her cleaned gear, she tipped her head to the woman before bolting out the door. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to find Null. She had to be certain he was safe.
Heart-rate increasing, the machines at her side seemed to go off. It was then when she realized that her health was being monitored. Instantly, she tore herself free of such tooling and apparatus. Flinging the sheets off her, the blonde's crazed, fearful eyes spun around the room. Why was she here! How did she get here! What the fuck happened!
In seconds, a nurse was in the room. Her voice, subdued, subtle, soft, wasn't reaching Bandit's cloudy ears. Gripping the pillow in her hands, Bandit found herself sinking into a corner. Cowering, fearing, trembling, she fought whatever demons ate away at her sanity. The tears came rolling down her cheeks in great waves and she lost herself to the madness that swelled her mind....
She kissed him. It felt so right. So perfect. So real. She needed more. More of his gentle touch. More of his love. More of him. Hand gliding up his face, Bandit gazed into those beautiful crystalline blue orbs of Null's. Booping his nose with her extended index finger, a light giggle passed her lips. "You're cute." Her lips brushed against his, though only for a second. Pulling back, a grin widened on her face. "C'mon, let's go get some breakfast." Her hand intertwined with his. It felt amazing to be this close to someone. To truly hold and be held by someone. Someone you loved and someone who returned the feelings.
Swinging their hands, the pair moved from their humble bedroom into what looked like a small kitchenette affixed to a living quarters. "One delish breakfast coming up," she chimed, still grinning ear to ear. The sex the night prior must have put her in a good mood, for her whole body bubbled with giddy nature.
In no time, they were eating but eating soon became a game of foreplay which lead to some ruffled sheets and 'sexy' hairdos.
With their morning scuffle done, the two could finally leave to wander the streets of Aegis. It was there where the dangers first started to eat away at her. They walked all so unknowingly into a trap laid by her previous fling, Slasher.
"Please, Slash, let me explain," Bandit pleaded on her knees. Eyes full of tears, she stared up into the cannibalistic eyes of the grizzled man. Slasher's grip, iron-tight, and without the looks of easing up, choked the life out of Null. No matter how much she pleaded, Slasher wouldn't ease up or let the man go.
He knew their secret. He knew what they did. He knew that she betrayed him and laid in bed with another man.
Hellbent on making Null pay, Slasher ripped out a knife and pried it into the man's eye socket. The blood the gushed from the new wound instantly spun Bandit's stomach around. Vomiting in the streets, she fought to scream as her stomach emptied itself. She screamed, begged, fought. She did everything and Slasher's rage went on.
Moments later, Slasher was striping Null of his clothing. Nude in the streets, Slasher dug his claws into the male's skin. Every inch he tore at opened into welts and soon his body bleed. Slasher, consumed in the revenge, laughed viciously as he did everything. The look in his eyes was one of sheer fright and terror. The man she once loved became a monster. A true monster among men.
"DIMITRI, PLEASE!" Her voice was fading. Null's blood was draining. Everything was getting so hard. So heavy.
Hand out, she reached for Null's hand. Holding it tight, she pleaded yet again with the man that killed her new dream, her Null.
"Please... please stop. Please... or you'll kill me."
But Slasher didn't care. In one final move, he lopped off Null's head and held the dis-formed trophy in his hands. Hair ripping from the lifeless skull, Slasher flung the cleaved head toward the woman that now looked ghostly white.
"Remember who you belong to," he spat. Between Slasher's saliva and Null's blood, bile, and guts, Bandit lost it. Eyes rolling back, her mind fell numb. Everything. Everything was over. She wanted to die. No, needed to die.
The tears were back. Looking at her hands, she noted some blood caked beneath her nails. Was it Null's blood? Her eyes rolled back and she felt like dying. No, no, no, no, no. That couldn't have been real. It couldn't! She was so helpless! So weak! So pathetic! She didn't even try to hurt Slasher. Why. Why was she so frozen in fear?
A lump formed in her throat. Everything before her faded, save for the blood beneath her nails. There was nothing but silence and ghostly white fear.
"I'm so sorry, Null. I failed you."
A rich, bitter scent wafted into her nostrils. Shaking her head, Bandit's senses came to as she gazed up at a frightful nurse.
"Miss, are you okay? You fainted and I was worried."
In a jerking motion, Bandit pinned the nurse to the wall where she once sat. Control in her eyes, the blonde woman gave the nurse a good shake. "Tell me, woman, what happened to Null!" Grit teeth and marred eyes, Bandit prepared for the worse and, should such news kiss her ears, this nurse would be the first to die in Bandit's Bloodbath.
"He's out for breakfast. I-I-I... I can sh," the nurse flushed red for in that moment, she received a hug. It came out of nowhere and it was surprisingly gentle, warm, and loving.
"Thank god," Bandit said with a sigh of relief. "I must ask, has a man named Slasher come to...." Where was she? Blinking, the empty room gave no hints. "Where am I?"
"Why you're in Aegis. And no, no Slasher here. Why do you ask?"
"Alert who ever is in charge. Make certain he doesn't get into this city. If he does, there will be much blood and suffering."
Pulling from the nurse, Bandit stripped from her robes and dolled herself back up in her usual getup (which was recently washed, what a nice surprise). Nudge in her cleaned gear, she tipped her head to the woman before bolting out the door. She had no idea where she was going, but she needed to find Null. She had to be certain he was safe.
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