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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you know how to use healing powder?"

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

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

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

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

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

A few moments passed after the tanned Numinu had thrown the pouch of healing powder toward Bandit. She had not responded to his query, but she could simply be inspecting the contents for poisons of some kind. 'Or waiting for me to come help and present a better target.' Such a thing would be a cold act in the Texan heat, but not unheard of. Another few moments of quite and he heard some muffled coughing and then silence. A mild sense of dread welled up within, almost forcing Terrence's inborn altruism to overpower his caution and make him stand.

Slowly and steadily, Terrence raised an eye over the hill's crest. His face was turned away and his eye stared as far to the side as possible, presenting as little of his head as he could in a way his own father had taught him as a boy. That was when he saw her doubled over, like a dried husk. 'Caution be damned.'

The purified water from Terrence's canteen, both the object and it's contents a commodity in the dry, radiation tainted wasteland, was slowly trickled into the light-skinned woman's lips. It was already half empty before he'd gotten to Cedar Crest Ridge. After seeing those Children of Ruin pour something into the town's water source and the mindless monsters the towns folk themselves had become, plus three days of waiting until the creators of this situation came back, the rest of the pure water was slowly going down Bandit's dry gullet. Bandit wasn't going to wake up before sundown, she had inhaled enough of that healing powder to make a Death Claw unable to walk and she was already wounded and fatigued. Thankfully, should she wake up, that daze would allow Terrence to overpower her should she become violent.

Water from another source would have to be found. But, this woman couldn't be left in the sun while she healed. She could die from heat stroke, water or no water. And then there was the matter of that creature she had arrived with. How long until it put two and two together and followed where the gunshot came from. 'And if it did, what might become of her? And what might become of me?'

+ + +

Paper is a rare resource in the Ruined world. No factory produces it, but notebooks are not impossible to find. Impaling a large branch from nearby in the ground at his sniper's nest, Terrence wrapped a note around the shaft and tied it in place with an extra shoelace. On it, he wrote a simple message.

'Bandit is alive. She is protected. I do not trust you. When she is well and asks to be reunited with you, I will lead her to the nearest town. If she fears you, you will never see her again. Take care. Don't drink from the well, someone has put demons into the water.'

Five yards away, a Bottlecap Mine ticked down from ten minutes on an egg timer. If that beast cared enough to stay around and search for it's companion, then it would surely see the blast and find the message. 'Assuming the wiring isn't faulty.'

Hefting Bandit's form onto his back and wrapping wrapping the water canister around her hand, hoping that an empty canteen being the first thing she sees would somehow build trust, Terrence took his rifle into one hand and made way to a nearby shack he and other's of his tribe frequently used when travelling. It would be an afternoon's travel and they wouldn't get there until after nightfall. After nine minutes, Terrence and his unconscious companion would be lost from sight among the hills. When the sound of the mine's explosion reached Terrence's ears, he'd start walking a little faster.

Null

---

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

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

"Null..."

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

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

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

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

Anna would never have allowed it.

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

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

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

No time now, however.

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

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

"Turn around. Slowly."

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

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

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

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

Null

---

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

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

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

He still felt nothing towards their loss.

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

"What are you doing with her?"

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.

To be frank, when Bandit awoke, she would be more than livid at herself for collapsing like she did. There was nothing weaker than passing out before a stranger. Of course, this was all assuming that she managed to live. Although she knew not what happened around her, inside Bandit's inner core felt safe. Perhaps content would be a more fitting word. Still, at least she wouldn't be some Deathclaw's meal tonight, or so she prayed.

With night just around the corner, Bandit gave her first sign of life. It was just a light stir -- a twitch, if you will. The timing could have been better, but the blond didn't realize her carrier was being held at gunpoint by an unusually handsome beau.

---

(Note to self, never have a character faint. It's boring doing nothing.)

"Not here to kill you," said the soldier. The tribal almost smiled. 'That is what usually tends to happen, regardless.' Terrence listened for sounds other than from himself, Bandit, or this stranger. Nothing else was going to sneak up on him while they were stationary, or so he hoped.

"What are you doing with her?" The concern in the stranger's voice was odd, almost fake and yet sincere, as if he was asking on behalf of someone else who's opinion he valued highly. Choosing his words carefully, Terrence kept his voice low in fear of being heard by some beast hunting by moonlight.

"I found her and a… companion in a town south-east of here. Some people put demons in the water, and the demons went in the townsfolk. They attacked her and the other one but I was able to help her get out. She lost a lot of blood but we managed to stop the bleeding with healing powder. I was on my way to a shack my tribe uses as an outpost when you stopped us." As Terrence finished, he felt Bandit shift her weight. This was the first sign of consciousness she had shown since he had set out for the outpost. He felt a sense of relief wash over him; 'So few people survive such dehydration, thank the gods I had some water left.'

"She's waking up. Bandit, are you with us? Bandit?"

"Ehhh?" Her head bobbed back and forth as her body was placed on the ground. It felt so odd to be back on the earth. The fresh scent of topsoil entered her nose. It started to get her mind ticking. Of course, her ears had yet to open to the sounds around her. Still unaware of the two men in her vicinity, she rolled herself over so that she now took on the doggy-style bottom position. Arms spread out the width of her shoulders, she just shook her head.

"Mif er hm eh em?" The words were huffs of air and had no subsistence to them. She was trying to speak, but she was still lacking that ability for the time being.

Flitting her lashes, the daze that still choked her tried to subdue her into submission, but Bandit was stronger than that (or so she liked to believe). Teeth tearing into her lip, she hoped the jab of pain would awaken whatever sanity remained within her soul. Hand reaching up, it rubbed her forehead before kicking off the hat she still managed to wear.

"Holy hell, Dimitri, did you shove me down a set of stairs again?" Blue eyes opening, she took in the sea of dirt around her. She had yet to notice that she was surrounded by two men, and neither of them were Slasher. "You really need to be more careful with me. I might look sixteen, but I'm in no shape to get roughed up." Scooting so that her body folded over her legs, she squatted. Head turning up, she caught her first glimpse of the strangers. Stammering backwards, she crab crawled herself back up against a rock. Breathing picking up, her panting and panicking began. Just what was happening? Who were these men and where was Slasher? Eyes jumping from Terrence to Null, she let out a fleeting exhale. "Who the hell are you?"

Hand patting herself down, Bandit sent her dagger-like stare toward the two men. "Tch, do you know who you're dealing with?" Even if she didn't have her gear, Bandit would figure out a way to escape these men. Rising, her courage flooded back into her veins. Plopping her cowboy hat atop her mess of blond hair, she smirked. While one hand put on the hat, the other checked her pants for the small blade she kept hidden there. Sure enough, it was gone. Damn, she cursed to herself, these boys were thorough. Oh well, she could make do with her fists of flailing fury. Right?

Lips pouting, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Spill it. Whatcha want with me?" She was their prisoner and the fact that she was still alive meant she had something they wanted. Truthfully, she wasn't sure why anyone would capture her over Slasher. Slash had all the secrets locked away in his head. He knew about the ban of scientists who were trying to purify the water and create a vaccine for the radiated. She? Heh, Bandit knew a few things about a few groups, but not enough to be a problem. Or at least that's what she liked to assume.

"Well?" Foot tapping on the ground, the woman was trying to standoffish approach with the hopes that these wasterlanders might just find her lack of confidence proof that she was worth keeping alive. She also hoped all this staling would give her Slasher ample time to come crashing and thrashing over the rocks around them. She secretly hoped he would drink in their blood and put an end to their cryptic ways.

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."

"Don't move; not yet. Lower her if need be. When she awakes, I shall take answers from her." The soldier was cautious, almost to a fault. 'Probably not much of a drinking buddy, this one.' Bending his knees, Terrence slowly lowered Bandit to the ground. Avoiding any wicked edges on the rocks or debris, he stepped away from her slowly and returned kept his hands up. 'At least the girl is not behind me now. No way this armour would have stopped that bullet going all the way through and hitting her.'

"And no, I will not lower my weapon. Not until the truth has been given beyond the slightest shadow of doubt." 'Over cautious indeed.'

"To tell you the truth; this time of night, I'd rather you kept at the ready. Please tell me that… contraption is loaded." The young Numinu kept looking around, taking in the sights that moonlight allowed and the smells carried on the cold breeze. The wasteland was not savage in itself, but savage things still prowled the sands. 'Exhibit A, that thing from the town.'

"Ehhh? Mif er hm eh em?" Bandit writhed on the ground, like some child fighting the urge to return to sleep. If Terrence hadn't been more conditioned by the harshness of the Wasteland, he'd have been distracted by the primal urge to gape at her backside like a slack jawed fool.

"Holy hell, Dimitri, did you shove me down a set of stairs again? You really need to be more careful with me. I might look sixteen, but I'm in no shape to get roughed up." She turned to see Terrence and the stranger, panicking almost immediately and crab walking away, her eyes darted around searching for something that wasn't there. Finally taking in Terrence and the soldier, she sighed. Terrence himself merely looked at the soldier and shrugged his shoulders, almost asking 'Well what now, smart guy.'

"Tch, do you know who you're dealing with?" Terrence almost laughed at the wild determination in her eyes, a contrast to the sleeping form that had been drooling on his shoulder only moments ago. She appeared to be reaching for something on her back pocket but then came up empty, likely a knife or gun she had dropped when she had run to him back at the town. Terrence almost laughed again; 'never could keep my stuff held down at her age, either.'

"Spill it. Whatcha want with me? Well?" Terrence looked from Bandit to the soldier, then back again. 'Dimitri? That wouldn't be…'

"Dimitri would not happen to be the person you went into that town with, would it? The one opening the possessed with his bare hands, I mean." Looking around once more to check for animals stalking the trio, Terrence gestured to Bandit's hand and the empty water canteen that was tied around her wrist. She was dehydrated, and now she wasn't. 'Two and two make four.'

"Oi, you boys are dense." Rolling her shoulders forward, Bandit allowed herself to take a breather. If these guys wanted to do something with her, they'd have done so by now. And with how much they talked, it hardly seemed like they were the enemy. At least, not right now.

Turning toward Terrence, Bandit had to head a blush on her face. Nervously, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. One of her legs tucked behind her other and she bashfully turned her head aside. "That would be my Dimitri. Unorthodox, crazed, and cannibalistic in nature, but the only man who truly fights, lives, and breathes for me." When the scream filled the air, her eyes ran toward the mournful call. "I doubt he'll follow. He knows better. He's on a mission." Stepping forward, she playfully pushed Null's gun to the side some. "And if he does come this way, I'll tell him to spare you. For the most part, he doesn't just kill humans. He only kills those who pose a threat to my health." For a second, her hand rubbed her belly and all the emotion on her face drained away. Snapping back to her wits, she brushed her hand away and tipped her hat back some. God, she was just an open book before these men. If they were thinking of killing her, they might just do it now. She sounded so weak and vulnerable. Not to mention, it was pretty obvious she had her lover on her mind. Ugh, she kicked herself for even thinking about the baby she never had.

"So you're attempting to protect me from this guy?" Two fingers pointed at Terrence. "Pretty sure he's the fellow who saved my life." Coughing, she pattered herself down. Shit, Slasher had the canteen. She would get no water from her lack of a canteen. However, as her hand dug into her pocket, she pulled out what looked like a week old piece of mole rat jerky. Great, more dry stuff. But she still popped it into her mouth quickly, hoping it would magically call forth saliva due to the sudden sensation of eating. It helped, but not enough to quench her thirst. "Don't suppose we passed water." Lips cracked and chapped, the blond sighed. "I'm bone dry and Slash, erm Dimitri, has my canteen." The more she thought about it, the more she realized that her canteen was actually empty -- the one with Dimitri that is. Brows furrowing, she reached out her hand to touch a cooling rock. Within no time, this arid desert would become a frozen tundra. No snow or ice would fall, but the temperature would drop well into the colder temperatures.

Looking around, she saw the direction she and Terrence must have come from. Looking forward, she tilted her head to the side. "Overton City isn't too far from here. Maybe a two-day walk." Although Bandit was no expert when it came to traveling, the wanderer had spent a lot of time exploring the eastern side of Texas. And, in all her travels, she learned about the other pockets of human life. Overton City, although not the best of places, would at least have food, water, and shelter. Not to mention, humans and walls. "Or we can go back where we came from. We could investigate what happened to the people there." At this point, she was just grabbing straws and trying to pick the right one. She didn't know if these men would follow her. She wasn't even sure if they would let her go. But she figured she would at least be semi-useful. Usefulness tended to result in living.

"I'm so rude. I'm Jessica, but the wasteland likes to call me Bandit." Hand digging into her back ass pocket, she pulled out an old torn and tattered photograph. "And that's my Dimitri," she said tapping the photograph. Below her finger was a man clad in a white coat with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Beside him stood a laughing Jessica, in nothing but her short leather shorts and a simple tank-top.

"I am attempting to protect you," said the soldier. "What he is doing with you - such is the reason for my presence." Though the words were measured and strong, Terrence sensed a fleeting feeling of exasperation. 'Pretty young to be tired of it all, this one.'

"That would be my Dimitri. Unorthodox, crazed, and cannibalistic in nature, but the only man who truly fights, lives, and breathes for me." Almost like a thunderclap punctuating a dramatic moment in some old-world comic book, that beast's howl carried itself across the sands to both terrify and accuse. 'I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it, I knew it. This bitch is nuts.

"I doubt he'll follow. He knows better. He's on a mission. And if he does come this way, I'll tell him to spare you. For the most part, he doesn't just kill humans. He only kills those who pose a threat to my health." Bandit looked at the soldier when she said that, giving Terrence a sense of unease. 'Gain the trust of the stronger, turn him against the weaker? Stab the victorious in the back when he expects a crown, I would not imagine.' Terrence scanned the surroundings once more, paranoid at the thought of this… Dimitri somehow emulating the speed of the creatures that he reminded Terrence of.

"So you're attempting to protect me from this guy? Pretty sure he's the fellow who saved my life." Terrence kept his silence, throwing a look at the soldier that simply said 'I told you so.' As Bandit began to pat herself down, Terrence noticed that something was missing. 'The canteen!'

"Attempting to ascertain the truth of that," said the soldier. 'Far as I am concerned, you're a soldier who fled from duty and she is a conspirator with a feral cannibal. It should be me who does not trust either of you. A sour look accompanied the thought, the Numinu not having a care as to who saw it.

"Damn it all," he muttered under his breath. Maybe it fell off when I put her down? Scanning the ground, Terrence found the water tote lying in the dirt by his own foot. Cursing his own idiocy, he debated whether or not to stoop low and pick it up while still at gunpoint. After a few moments, he decided. 'If he was going to shoot, he would have done it already.' Slowly reaching low, he grabbed the strap in his empty hand and gingerly returned it to the bottle holder on the bag hanging on his shoulder. 'Empty, but not for long.'

"Don't suppose we passed water. I'm bone dry and Slash, erm Dimitri, has my canteen." 'Slash? A nickname? Well that certainly isn't foreboding.'

"Overton City isn't too far from here. Maybe a two-day walk. Or we can go back where we came from. We could investigate what happened to the people there." Terrence immediately began to feel unease at the thought of going back. The image of that creature plunging it's hands unto Terrence's stomach and reveling in the blood while Bandit cheered him on nearly caused him to vomit. He'd rather face the two-day walk to Overton without water than go back to that beast.

"I'm so rude. I'm Jessica, but the wasteland likes to call me Bandit. And that's my Dimitri." She help up some kind of photograph, a rarity since film was so hard to come by. The image only confirmed that Dimitri was indeed that thing from back in the village. Here, he almost seemed human alongside the smiling woman.

"Nonetheless, we should shelter for the night. Continue to Overton tomorrow. Safety in numbers in these parts, after all; easier if there's someone to keep watch. The man who carried you claims he has shelter nearby. Do you trust him?" 'This soldier seems as tired of these shenanigans as I am. Maybe he is not a robot after all… wait, did I just get volunteered for something.'

"I have got a gun pointed at me and this woman is friends with a man who tears into people for laughs. Seems like someone should be asking me that question." Exasperated and tired, Terrence relaxed his body and returned to a normal stance. 'Like hell I will die with my hands up.'

"Overton was next on my tour. I can add an extra gun to the group, I guess. Shack is just north of here… I think."

It was so interesting to here these two men banter back and forth. It was almost refreshing. At least in the sense that she wasn't going to be alone. As much as she adored Slasher, his company wasn't always the best. When it came to charm and speech, he was certainly lacking those human traits. He was gruff, ruthless, and mean. Sure, she got used to his haughty tongue and rude quips. She blamed love on that one. Actually, she blamed the wasteland for that, for she couldn't help but wonder if things were different if she wouldn't have fallen for a man like Terrence. Or even Null. At least they had a drop of humanity in them still. Or so she believed.

When Terrence finally agreed to the terms (not like he could refuse, especially with a gun pointed at him), Bandit smiled. It was nice to see these two men getting along. And, for once, the two men weren't fighting over her. There was just something about being a woman in the wasteland that wasn't fun. Actually, she believed being a woman in general had its downsides. Granted, she was known for wolf-whistling at handsome faces from time to time. Of course, Slasher was never around to hear those sexual calls.

"Whelp, I guess it's settled. We'll head to your shack and set out tomorrow morning for Overton." Stepping closer to Terrence, she extended a hand. It just dangled there for a moment before her blue orbs glanced up at to meet his face. "Thank you stranger for your help. I'm sure I'd be dead if you hadn't intervened." Leaning inward without any warning, she planted a small peck on his cheek. It was her sign of thanks and it came across a little more personal than the proposed handshake. Not to mention, there was something to Terrence's Native American features that appealed to her. Perhaps it was his long, black hair? Or the way he carried himself? Heh, maybe it was because he was different from her. She, a spitting image of a blond haired, blue-eyed German, just couldn't put her finger on it yet. But if it got too cold at night, Bandit wouldn't hesitate curling up next to this guy.

With a wink, she redirected her attention to the soldier. "And of course I trust him. Who willingly offers up medicine, water, and aid to someone who runs around with a madman? Not to mention, I don't feel like I was raped, groped, or touched inappropriately. I'm afraid this guy is about as sincere and genuine as they come." The latter words she spoke might have come across a tad jeering, but it was for Terrence's own good. He did come across too good to be true.

Now that her eyes were trained on Null, Bandit gave him a once over. It was hard to really get a feel for the man while his armor. Based on the looks and size, though, Null appeared to be quite the man. The fact that he trudged around in that suit must have meant something (i.e. muscles up the wazoo!). 'I would need to see him without his clothes on to determine if I would tap him or not. Oh who am I kidding, he's hunky. Just look at that armor. And his posture. Ugh, and that voice. Swooning and wet. God, I'm a mess right now. Hope Slash doesn't come around. He could smell my desires from a mile away....' A blush came onto her cheeks and she quickly turned away. She had no time to start picturing these guys under her (she preferred top). And yet, she couldn't suppress the images that started to clutter her mind.

'Jeez, Jess, way to mentally cheat on your partner. You're just full of great ideas, aren't you? Clearly the lack of water and food is getting to me. Now I just need to stop thinking and start following.'

"Well, lead the way good sir!" Gathering up her gear, she trotted up behind Terrence.

"Whelp, I guess it's settled. We'll head...." Bandit extended a hand, an old expression of respect and trust. 'Neither of those is really high on the list of adjectives I would use right now.' Ignoring the extended palm, Terrence instead stared intensely at Bandit's expression and studied it for any signs of ill intent. If there were any, the distrustful man could not discern them.

"Thank you stranger for your help. I'm sure...." As her face rushed forward for reasons unknown, Terrence instinctively pulled his head away from her encroaching lips. Terrence imagined the sickly smell of copper escaping her mouth, memories of the town massacre still fresh in his mind. His lips curled in a disgusted fashion, eyes betraying both immense worry and distrust. 'No no. No no no. No.'

"We do not know that. You might have been just fine without my help. Just please refrain from being in mortal danger again, please."

"And of course I trust him. Who willingly...." Bandit almost seemed to poke fun at Terrence for being 'sincere', something that had not occurred to him as being a large part of his personality at all. 'Pragmatic would be a more accurate word.' Scanning the surroundings once more, Terrence tried to formulate some kind of plan to ditch these two some time in the night that wouldn't immediately put them into danger.

"And to be completely fair, I would not have taken her anywhere if I knew she and said madman were friends. Soldier, you did not see the ungodly amount of blood and guts that guy was covered in. Really starting to regret leaving a note as well."

"Well, lead the way good sir!" Bandit checked herself over and grabbed something shiny from the ground. 'Must be the knife she dropped. Hope she decides not to stick me with it.' As she came to stand behind Terrence in some 'follow the leader' formation, the young Numinu shook his head.

"Stand beside me as we walk, not behind. My eyes are tired and you just happened to have the best power nap that shamanic medicine can provide; you can help make sure we do not run into anything in the front." 'Plus it will allow me to see if you pull something on me in my peripheral vision, madman's friend.' Shouldering his Paciencia and checking the looseness of his side arm, Terrence turned to the soldier and spoke.

"My name is Terrence, Son of Two Peoples. Hunter, Translator, Tribesman. If you want to use that thing, I suggest you wait for a Mirelurk to show up. Then we can have something other than the dry Molerat jerky stored at the outpost. Any objections to moving out, soldier?" 'Oh, I always wanted to say that.'