Talon Company
Feb. 14th, 2009 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_skyEllen scrabbled to empty the last of the Super Duper Mart's food inventory into her knapsack. The instant she'd set foot in the place she'd known there was going to be trouble- it had the same rancid, dank stench as the Springvale school. And with good reason, too. The spike-and-leather-wearing opportunists who'd colonized the place might've waited a little longer to open fire on Ellen than the school dwellers did, but they had the same decorative preferences, and they'd had longer to put them into practice. Ellen had done her best not to look at the dismembered corpses scattered about the place, but the reek of rotting flesh lingered no matter what she did. The pharmacy at the back had been pretty well stocked, but no amount of Rad-Away was worth this kind of risk, and Moira would be hearing about it as soon as Ellen got back to Megaton.
She heaved her pack back on and made for the door, pushing the inner one open with her elbow. There must have been some kind of airlock system in place once; the inner doors only ever seemed to open if the outer doors were shut. It had grown dark outside during her battle with the murderous crew, and no light penetrated the few chinks in the outer windows' grime that had lit up the vestibule on her way in. In that semidarkness, the pale bluish glow from the Nuka-Cola machine in the corner caught her attention. Curious, she found the lock holding the machine's front closed and inserted one of her bobby pins. The reward for wriggling it around until the tumblers fell into place was a different sort of disturbing- three bottles of that weirdly glowing soda.
Huh. Well, Percy would pay a good many bottlecaps for it, and she still had room in her pack alongside the scavenged stimpaks. She loaded the bottles into her pack, carefully arranging the boxes of Blamco Mac and Cheese and Fancy Lads Snack Cakes to keep the bottles from breaking, and shoved open the door to outside.
"Well, now," sneered a voice from the darkness off to the left. "If it isn't the little saint from the Vault."
Blinking, Ellen peered towards the voice. The speaker was a man, clean-shaven and dark-haired, wearing bulky black armor with something white smeared on the left breast. He had an unfamiliar pistol in one hand; behind him were two similarly-garbed men who gave the appearance of carrying shotguns. "Ex... cuse me?" she said, very carefully. She didn't like what little she could see of that gun, but at least he was talking first.
"We've been looking for you," the man continued. "Someone's put quite a price on your head."
"What?" Ellen squeaked.
"'What?'" the man mocked in reply. "You think you can walk around the Wasteland doing the things you do and there isn't going to be someone who takes notice?"
Ellen tried to answer that, but no sound came out of her mouth. What had she done? Did the people at Springvale have friends, or something?
"Such a shame." The man shook his head. "I hear that you could've been... something useful. Ah well. Time to die."
"Wait," Ellen managed. "Can't we talk this out?"
"Mmm... nope, sorry."
He raised his pistol, but Ellen was already diving for the only cover to be had: the doors of the Super-Duper Mart. It did her very little good, though. The instant they swung shut behind her, there was a zzrt! noise and the grimy glass gave way. She yelped and lunged through the second doors, then ran for the dubious shelter of the aisles. Please, God, she prayed, just let these men go away and I promise I'll never kill anyone else as long as I live-
"TALON COMPANY!" shouted the first of the armored men to come through the inner doors.
Okay, guess not, she thought as she reached for her shotgun. If you can get me out of this alive, Lord, we'll have to talk some more.
She heaved her pack back on and made for the door, pushing the inner one open with her elbow. There must have been some kind of airlock system in place once; the inner doors only ever seemed to open if the outer doors were shut. It had grown dark outside during her battle with the murderous crew, and no light penetrated the few chinks in the outer windows' grime that had lit up the vestibule on her way in. In that semidarkness, the pale bluish glow from the Nuka-Cola machine in the corner caught her attention. Curious, she found the lock holding the machine's front closed and inserted one of her bobby pins. The reward for wriggling it around until the tumblers fell into place was a different sort of disturbing- three bottles of that weirdly glowing soda.
Huh. Well, Percy would pay a good many bottlecaps for it, and she still had room in her pack alongside the scavenged stimpaks. She loaded the bottles into her pack, carefully arranging the boxes of Blamco Mac and Cheese and Fancy Lads Snack Cakes to keep the bottles from breaking, and shoved open the door to outside.
"Well, now," sneered a voice from the darkness off to the left. "If it isn't the little saint from the Vault."
Blinking, Ellen peered towards the voice. The speaker was a man, clean-shaven and dark-haired, wearing bulky black armor with something white smeared on the left breast. He had an unfamiliar pistol in one hand; behind him were two similarly-garbed men who gave the appearance of carrying shotguns. "Ex... cuse me?" she said, very carefully. She didn't like what little she could see of that gun, but at least he was talking first.
"We've been looking for you," the man continued. "Someone's put quite a price on your head."
"What?" Ellen squeaked.
"'What?'" the man mocked in reply. "You think you can walk around the Wasteland doing the things you do and there isn't going to be someone who takes notice?"
Ellen tried to answer that, but no sound came out of her mouth. What had she done? Did the people at Springvale have friends, or something?
"Such a shame." The man shook his head. "I hear that you could've been... something useful. Ah well. Time to die."
"Wait," Ellen managed. "Can't we talk this out?"
"Mmm... nope, sorry."
He raised his pistol, but Ellen was already diving for the only cover to be had: the doors of the Super-Duper Mart. It did her very little good, though. The instant they swung shut behind her, there was a zzrt! noise and the grimy glass gave way. She yelped and lunged through the second doors, then ran for the dubious shelter of the aisles. Please, God, she prayed, just let these men go away and I promise I'll never kill anyone else as long as I live-
"TALON COMPANY!" shouted the first of the armored men to come through the inner doors.
Okay, guess not, she thought as she reached for her shotgun. If you can get me out of this alive, Lord, we'll have to talk some more.