tokyobiohazard

*suddenly wants a salad*

Reona blinked, shaking herself into focus, forcing her eyes to leave the wings as dark and rich as her own ebony locks. Yes, she told herself, hearing her dear brother's voice speaking inside her head, they are wings, and they are upon that woman's back. They are there, and such is reality. Stop looking at them, Reona. "I am not injured, my lady. The blood I wear is not my own," she gestured to the large bandit's bloodied corpse, a bit nervously, "It took only a single blow to fell him. To be quite blunt with you, ma'am, I was following my friend here a bit... discreetly. He interested my traveling companion and I, so we began to follow him from a distance. Today, I smelled blood from far off, and I knew that either my friend was injured, or he was injuring another." Reona took a deep breath and stared down at Arva, feeling a little bit of pride swell in her chest at her kill, a kill that her sword's namesake himself would have boasted about for days. She stood a little taller, and closed her eyes, smiling at the memory of Arva. She sighed a little, once again feeling one of his long-fingered hands rest atop of her head, smiling lightly at how massive he was compared with her. Despite being a Bosmer, he towered above others of their kind. Reona thought that his father was most likely an Altmer, and him just being tall was a story fabricated to cover up her mother's unfaithfulness or perhaps to hide the fact that they weren't even siblings. In her mind's eye, she could see his blond hair obscuring his face, a face so different from her own----- A loud groan pulled Reona from her thoughts with a sharp jolt as the world came into focus around her once again. She glanced over at the Altmer and noticed he was stirring a little, to her satisfaction. She turned to the woman,"Thank you. I don't have any money, unfortunately. Then again, you don't seem like someone who gives assistance in exchange for a reward. I do feel like I must repay you, however. Is there anything that I could help with?"

Reona's eyes wandered suspiciously over the brilliantly-garbed stranger, wondering at what someone so regal was doing on this road and what she would gain by helping them, going through multiple scenarios in her head with elven speed. She shoved the thoughts away quickly, blinking twice to make herself focus on the woman in front of her. Silently cursing herself for becoming dazzled so easily, she glanced over at her friend, then nodded solemnly. She knelt by her friend's side, upset by his broken appearance. His bone-white hair was bathed in crimson, his eyes flickering under closed lids as if he were trying to find consciousness. She felt a lump in her throat as she noticed her hands were covered in blood, both the bandit's and the Altmer's.

Reona glanced upward upon hearing hooves stamp the ground in the distance, her hand instinctively swiping her sword from the ground and her body feeling the edgy adrenaline rush that coursed through her veins whenever a stranger neared. Her eyes flicked to her Altmer friend lying on the his belly, his breathing erratic and disturbed; the wound was still bleeding, despite the stitches. He would bleed out soon, Reona guessed, feeling a twinge of sadness. A female voice broke the silence, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She brushed her fringe of raven hair behind her pointed ear and gazed upward, her eyes meeting a hooded figure on a black steed. The person's hood fell away, and a regal, kindly woman gazed back at her with a concerned expression, her hair like liquid fire in the harsh wind. Reona stood and curtsied, her body still feeling tensed and twitching with pent-up adrenaline, ready to spring at the woman if need be. She glanced up and reflexively said, unintentionally sounding a bit venomous, "Greetings, fellow elf. I sincerely hope that you do not also wish to harm my friend here, for I fear he cannot endure much more. He shall likely be gone within a few hours, I suspect. I shall, however, defend him with my life until his dying breath."

Very good! I need moar! :D

You are here, next to me Your chest is my pillow Your arms are my blanket Your pulse is my lullaby Your breaths are mine We lie here, And the world freezes As we share a perfect night of sleep Our dreams are shared Our thoughts perfectly synchronized This is perfection

Reona's bare feet sunk into the muddy earth as she ran, hindering her speed slightly. She felt the air make her hair whip around her face as she followed the scent of blood. Something was wrong, of that she was certain. Her sharp eyes barely focused on what lay ahead, she followed that strong, metallic scent, listening to her own footsteps as she bolted ahead, not sure what exactly she would find. She listened hard, not hearing any footsteps behind her. Her companion had decided to stay behind at camp today, it seemed. Reona whizzed past a black horse and its rider, and smirked as she heard their astonished exclamation at her sheer speed. She chuckled to herself and sprinted faster, showing off a bit. The harsh sound of steel striking steel filled the air and Reona's hair stood on end as a shiver racked its way down her spine. She skidded to a stop and leaped into a tree high above the ground, looking for a better vantage point. Off in the distance, she saw it, a group of bandits attacking a single man... and a familiar glow radiating from his shirtless torso. She hopped from treetop to treetop lithely, agilely leaping, but nevertheless cursing her dress for being so long. She tilted her head to the side like a predator watching its prey, and gasped soundlessly as the Altmer from the inn was rent open by a huge bandit from shoulder blade to hip. A primal part of Reona awoke at that moment and the timid Bosmer suddenly was filled with murderous rage, for whomever would harm one of her friends, even if a newly met friend, would suffer her wrath and taste Arva's might. She roared and pounced at the huge bandit, her black skirt billowing around her like the petals of a battered flower. She landed on the bandit's shoulders and drove the point of Arva into his head, hearing the crunch of the sword puncturing his skull and the satisfying sound of his last breath. She turned to the other two bandits, snarling at them as if she were an animal, "If you want to live, I'd advise you to leave now." The bandits looked at her warily, as if they were considering whether or not she could take them both at once. They looked at each other and ran, looking pale as ghosts. "Good choice," she mumbled to herself as she bent down and pulled a fishbone hook out of her dress pocket. She carefully began to stitch the wound, not having anything else on her person to treat him. She sat down in the grass and leaned against a tree, intent on watching him until he awoke.

A slight smile played at the corners of the girl's lips, "Then she shall become he, and he shall become Arva. As for my name, it is Reona. It means 'reaper' in an ancient language long forgotten by time." She motioned to the window with the slight lift of a finger, and in a voice so light and rapid that only another elf could understand, she mumbled, "The man occasionally peering into the window is my travelling companion. Don't look over at your normal speed, do it very quickly, if you must... He thinks he's inconspicuous, you see." She tugged at the black frill of lace that fringed her sleeves, nervously straightening them as she looked up at the towering Altmer, "What name shall I address you by?"

Reona shifted her eyes up at the man, the piercing blue orbs flicking back and forth from his hidden face to the softly glowing tattoo on his shirtless chest. She hesitantly reached for her blade and slowly placed it on the table in front of her. She placed a hand on the sword's hilt, white skin contrasting against the deep, mournful black of her sopping wet sleeve, before removing her hand reluctantly so that the Altmer could see it. The blade was a traditional katana, nothing special as far as appearances go. It had a hilt wrapped with black cloth and a crossguard in the shape of a four-pointed star. A few notches marked the blade's edge, evidence of someone blocking edge-on-edge, fairly new from the looks of it, showing that the girl was most likely an inexperienced fighter. There was no sheath. "The sword... she was my older brother's," Reona began, her drying hair still over her face, "He... is gone now. He never told me her name... before he..." the girl choked on her words a little and contimued, "There are some... um... runes... carved into it here.... I can't read them..." Her face turned deep red as she felt the familiar heat of embarrassment at not being able to read.

At that moment, the inn's worn, wooden door swung open on its squeaky, unoiled hinges, the rain whirling in through the dark doorway, the biting chill of the night pouring into the room. A lean and diminutive Bosmer stepped inside, muttering a weak apology in a quiet voice for letting the cold creep inside, "I... couldn't stay out there," she explained nervously, lying her naked katana on the ground before her to signify she meant no harm. She had no cloak to protect her from the harsh elements and carried no pack. Her dripping-wet raven locks flowed down to her hips in a knotted disarray, looking as if they had once been styled elegantly but had since fallen free. Her shockingly bright blue eyes flicked around and rested momentarily on each individual in the inn, as if she were wary of contact with them. She curtsied, lifting her once-ornate black gown as she did so just enough that it revealed she had on no shoes. She then brushed her drenched mane behind a pointed ear, it being so heavy with water that it fell free again. "Trolls and the like," she weakly added, "Sorry if I'm intruding here. It's just... such a violent storm..." She trailed off and nervously hid her pale face behind the tangled veil of her hair, glancing down at her sword on the ground anxiously.

Name: Reona Race: Bosmer Birthsign: The Steed Class: Acrobat An unexpected guest in the inn, Reona is a thin Bosmer girl of a young age. Quick and nimble, Reona is inexperienced with a blade, making up for her lack of skill with swiftness. She is still teaching herself to fight, as it is something she is a natural at, but had never done until recently. She has the haggard appearance of one who has been travelling for some time. She is secretive, but willing to share her stories with others and lower her guard once she trusts them. She has a nervous and shy disposition, but becomes confident and unwavering when enemies present themselves.

YES! A million times yes! (u c wat i did thar?) :dance:

Good job :) Write more, i say!

yay! good job once again!

yay! angel, i did it! good job! *thumbs up*

I stared down at the body of the man I'd just killed. I knew he was a monster and that I'd done the right thing, but now I felt like I was no better than he was. Two arms wrapped around my torso from behind, followed by a cheer. I froze at the sensation of being touched, and the arms awkwardly released me. I turned to see a nervously smiling Arcade Gannon push his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. The lenses of them were spattered with flecks of blood. I tried to speak, opening and closing my mouth several times, but no sound emerged from my throat. My eyes wandered over to the many bodies that littered the inside of the tent and the blood that was splashed on the canvas walls of it. I walked over to Caesar's throne and sank into it, pressing my fingertips to my forehead. I realized that I now held a pose very similar to the one Caesar himself was known to make when he suffered from a headache. But my head only hurt... because I massacred these people. But who knows? Maybe his did, too. "Thumbs down, you son of a b-" "Boone," I interrupted, "I feel... like I'm... I feel bad." He looked absolutely astonished, "You regret killing them after everything they've done?" I blinked, "No. But when I think of them as people rather than Legion, I feel like a serial killer..." "Hmm..." Arcade said, crouched by Caesar's corpse and staring at the two bulletholes that perforated its skull, "It looks like..." I lifted my head from my hands, "Hm?" "Like his brain must have been horribly swollen," he mumbeld, stroking his chin. He squinted and adjusted his glasses, "I suspect a brain tumor, judging by what we know of his condition and how the wounds look, et cetera." I pressed my hands back to my pounding forehead, "Great. I killed an elderly man with a malignant brain tumor. Nice job, Kiyoko..." Arcade was still poking around the wounds. He produced a set of surgical instruments from the pocket of his once-white Followers labcoat, taking the scalpel in his steady hand. "Really, Arcade?" I remarked, averting my eyes and staring at Vulpes Inculta's intact corpse. My eyes studied every detail of his appearance. He looked so peaceful in death, as if a mere word could awaken him from his eternal slumber, as if a brush of my fingertip against his shoulder could cause him to stir and open his eyes to gaze up at me. My heart skipped a beat as I realized how handsome he was, his distinctive voice replaying in my head. My face flushed, and I felt guilty for killing him. "I need a bonesaw, Kiyoko," Arcade said, his hands covered in blood. I sifted through my unorganized backpack, finding a rusty bonesaw and carelessly tossing it to Arcade, who awkwardly tried to catch it. His fingers closed around the handle of it. He looked down at his hand, astonished by his lucky catch. I looked down at Caesar's head. The skin had been slit open vertically down the middle of his scalp from his forehead to the base of his spine. There was also a horizontal slit at each end of the incision, making it look like an elongated, sideways H. "Why are you being so delicate?" Boone inquired, biting into an apple he had found on a table. The crunch of Boone's teeth piercing the skin of the apple made me cringe. That sound, coupled with the faded memory of breaking a sleeping man's neck as if it were a wet stick, made my stomach churn. I'd done that a thousand times and never felt bad for it. For some reason, though, I felt a wave of guilt crash over me. My thoughts were interrupted by the harsh sound of blade sawing through bone. My eyes adopted a hollow expression, and I pulled my knees against my chest, hugging them tightly. I tried to avoid looking, but my eyes defied my will. Arcade had pulled the two flaps of skin apart as if they were the shutters of a window and pinned them down so that they couldn't flop back into their original positions. Now, he was sawing through the skull. The harsh scraping sound was driving me insane. I put my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering as I did so. A voice rang out over the commotion, "Hey! You okay? I'm over here!" It sounded worried. I uncovered my ears and turned toward the source of the voice. My unease intensified. It was him. I clenched my jaw shut and grit my teeth together. I was so upset, I couldn't even fathom what I would do to this filthy traitor. Wondering if Boone and Arcade had noticed, I turned my head to them. Arcade was deeply immersed into his work, but Boone had definitely noticed. His expression was even colder than usual, his eyes furiously fixed on the traitor. He knew what that fink had done to me. He stepped toward the tied-up figure until he towered over him, his fists clenched. He looked over at me, waiting for me to come confront the man who started this whole mess. I glanced back at Arcade. He had removed the top of the skull and had exposed the brain, which he was delicately trying to remove, oblivious to what was going on behind him. He cupped it in his hands and severed the brainstem. When he removed the brain, he turned to look at me. He was teaching me about anatomy so I could become a doctor. I guessed that this was my next lesson. I stepped over to him, my legs shaking. I crouched next to him, and he began to gently dissect the brain, apologizing for the fact that it was swollen and the fact that the bullets had obliterated a few imporant parts, while explaining what the intact parts did for the body. My eyes widened as I saw the tumor in the center of Caesar's brain. Boone started speaking. He said something that I didn't quite catch. I turned to him, "What did you say?" "I said that there's no need for you to feel guilty for this," Boone said, his arms crossed, "Look at the size of that tumor. Even if you'd left him alive, do you really think he'd have lived much longer? He had a ticking time bomb right in the center of his brain and you feel bad for killing him? If anything, you helped the old fu-" "Okay!" I exclaimed, cutting off the last word, "So you're right. But what about all these other Legion? They didn't have brain tumors. How do I justify killing them?" "By killing them, you saved the lives of countless NCR troopers and kept innocent people from becoming their victims. Or worse, their slaves," he replied. Boone knew that he had just made me feel like a hero. I could see it in his expression. I blinked slowly, "I feel like... like I did a good thing..." I felt a tear drop onto my hand. The relief made me feel so peaceful... "Now," Boone said, "To deal with a more... personal problem." I nodded and looked over at the traitor, my happy thoughts now turned to hateful ones, "Benny." "Doll," he began, "I get why you're upset with me. I'm sorry. I'm not gonna beg you to keep me alive." "You remember what happened when I found you..." "You mean when you flirted your way into my room and then started being serious and asking me all those questions about what I was doing?" I blushed, "And then..." "And then you fell for me," Benny said gently, "Kiyoko, I can't lie to you. I used you that night. I've been such a fink, baby. I deserve whatever you do to me." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, "Sounds like you're prepared to die." He stared down at my feet and nodded. I reached over to his hip and took Maria. He didn't struggle. He didn't even look up at me. I studied the ornate patterns carved into the barrel of the gun. My eyes jumped to the picture of the lady on it. I squinted at it and placed the gun back in its holster. Some religious symbol, I guessed. Benny looked up at me, "You gonna torture me? Guess I deserve that for what I did..." I reached down and untied him, "I'm not going to hurt you. I still care too much." He looked astonished and stood up. He threw his arms around me and laughed, "I wasn't gonna tell you 'cause I didn't want to change any decisions you'd already made, but I thought about you constantly ever since I left... And I decided that I love you." I squinted, "You can talk without slang?" He laughed and held me in his arms as if I'd disappear if he let go.

I closed my eyes, my eyebrows furrowed in frustration. I crossed my arms and began to take slow, deliberate breaths to calm myself down, counting each one. It took thirteen this time. My lips curled upward at the "unlucky" number. "Good thing you taught yourself that little trick," Arcade commented, "You get so infuriated sometimes that I worry you may burst a blood vessel or have a heart attack, and on-the-site lifesaving surgery isn't exactly my forte." "Can't help my temper," I grumbled, feeling slight agitation at Arcade's words. He put a hand on my shoulder, signifying that he meant no harm and was joking. My attention was drawn back to the source of my frustration. I stared at the graffiti intensely, turning the words over inside my skull a thousand times, before sighing and blindly sitting down, my eyes still fixed on that one sentence painted on the brick wall. "Um?" Arcade said, catching my attention. He pointed at the ground below me. I looked down. I was sitting on a pile of bloody intestines. My temper flared up again, and I kicked the pile of viscera away with a snarl carved into my face before plopping down in the same spot as before. "'The Burned Man walks!'..." I read aloud, "What could it mean?" "Haven't we been over this story multiple times?" Arcade sighed. "Yes," I growled, my face looking vicious, "But the story isn't enough. Why would someone go to the trouble of painting this on the wall here? Or something similar on a billboard on the other side of the Mojave? Is it some kind of cult? Is it Joshua Graham himself? I'm stumped..." Arcade put a hand on the top of my head, "Only time will tell, my friend..." "And," I threw my hands into the air angrily, "Where is New Canaan, anyway!?!" Arcade chuckled and pointed at a sign with the exact words I'd just spoken sloppily painted on its surface. I began to grumble under my breath, my arms crossed and my expression sour. Arcade smiled and pushed up his glasses, "Just be patient. Something tells me that someone as influential in this post-apocalyptic wasteland as you won't have to wait long. Just watch. You'll be dragged into the middle of it sooner or later."

this story is told from boone's perspective, and seeing as how he isn't the brightest crayon in the box, i wrote using words and expressions that he would know. just letting everyone know :)

READ THIS FIRST! My eyes slowly fluttered open. The light, however, burned them, so I closed them again. I reached for my face, noticing that my sunglasses weren't there anymore. The second thing I noticed was that there was a body next to me. My own body shot up, my eyes widening, as I stared down at Seras' thin frame lying broken on the ground. The small amount of basic first aid training I had received back when I was with the NCR came to my mind. I checked her pulse. It was slow, barely there, but she was alive. "Where's your bag, Seras?" I mumbled, knowing she couldn't answer, but talking to her nonetheless to stay calm. My eyes scanned the area and I spotted the pack about three feet away from Seras, probably tossed away as she ran to me or something. I shook my head, "Seras, you really should keep your antivenom in your pockets." I rummaged through her bag, finding the pouch she kept all her medical supplies in. There were around twenty stimpaks, but no antivenom. I felt panic rush through me for a quick second, but I pushed it down inside of me. Staying calm in situations like this was important if you wanted to survive and keep your partner alive, too. "Well, Seras," I grumbled, "Things just got interesting." I shoved a stimpak into her arm, noticing empty Med-X syringes near her hands. One had a broken needle. I looked around for it, noticing that it was in my forearm. "You must have panicked. Carla panicked easily, too. One of the reasons she didn't want me in the army," My heart ached as I thought of her. I picked Seras up and threw her on my shoulder. She would probably kill me for this later, but I hid her pack in a hollowed-out rock since it was so heavy, and headed toward nearby Jacobstown. Every few minutes, I injected her arm with a stimpak to keep her heart going. My math skills weren't very sharp, but I figured out that at the rate I was running at, I would have enough to get her to Jacobstown safely. I grumbled as a horde of giant mantis nymphs rushed out at me. I wasn't about to put Seras down, so I stomped them until they died. It was pretty easy, and the only thing even close to an injury I received was a rip in my NCR Veteran Armor trenchcoat. I injected Seras in the shoulder with a stimpak and was so surprised to see her eyelids jolt open that I dropped my jaw in wonder. "Craig..." she mumbled through her cracked lips, her sunburned skin unusually pale. "Yeah?" I answered calmly. There's a lot of snow in Heaven," she remarked. I sat her down on a fallen tree in front of me. She started examining her arm where the Cazador had stung her. "This isn't Heaven, kid," I said, not bothering to hold back a grin, "You're just the luckiest girl in the world." She smiled, "I am lucky. You love me. And you tried to kiss me before you died." "We're not dead," I said. "I know," she laughed, and attempted to throw her arms around me. I stepped back, "How are we still alive?" Seras was picking at her fingernails now, her dark blue eyes fixed on the ground at her feet, "I'm no Arcade, but I'm guessing the poison just... wore off... Why did you save me?" I already knew the answer to that question, "Remember what you said to me back when the Legion attacked Bitter Springs?" "I said, 'I wasn't going to let you die." "There's your answer, then." She looked puzzled, "But you don't understand. I said that because I was trying to let you know how I felt..." I didn't respond. I was trying to put a sentence together that would tell her how I felt toward her. My eyes gazed at nothingness. "Boone," Seras said, smiling sadly, "I'm sorry. I took it the wrong way when you said I looked like her... You probably were thinking of her when you tried to kiss me. Or maybe the poison was just-" "Kid," I interrupted, "You really do look like her. And, God strike me down if I'm lying, I have become... fond... of you since that night you helped me in Novac. But Carla is the only woman I can ever love." Seras looked off into the distance, the wind blowing her chestnut mane slightly, a faint smile on her lips. I left her to her thoughts and began to think a little myself. Remember is a better word, really. I thought of my Carla, how she would look the same way when it was just us and she stared at New Vegas in the distance... "Boone," Seras said quietly, in nearly a whisper, "I kissed you when I thoughtit was over. I'm sorry. It was the romantic in me taking over one last time." My fingers unconsciously moved to my lips, my expression becoming shocked, "I... it... you..." She just sat there smiling while I searched for words, amused by my inability to speak. "I can't love you... Carla-" "Craig," Seras cut in, "I think Carla would have wanted you to move on. From what I know about her, it seems like she wouldn't like the idea, but she would want your happiness more than hers. And so she would get mad and tell you not to dwell on how things used to be like she did... The point is, you can love more than one person, Craig. And-" I put my hands on her shoulders, "Alright. I love you, Seras Victoria. I admit it." She smiled and leaned in toward me, closing her eyes. She kissed me, her cracked, dry lips on mine for a moment, and then pulled away slowly. Her nose crinkled, "You're a bad kisser." I shrugged and ran a hand through her hair, my eyes focused on how the sunlight glinted off it. "Now!" Seras clapped her hands together, smiling, "What the eff did you do with my pack?"

I looked over at my poisoned companion. His chest heaved as he struggled to stay on his feet. His knees quivered, then his legs finally gave out. He looked over at me from under his sunglasses, his eyes widened in either panic or joy. His head weakly fell to the ground. My eyes filled to the brim with tears. I rushed over to him, my gun bobbing up and down on my back, painfully hitting it with my every step. He looked up at me with those wide eyes. He inhaled sharply and twisted his face in pain. I began to dig through my things, frantically searching for antivenom, "No," I said, beginning to panic, "No... no... It's not here. I don't have anything to help you..." "C-cazadores," he managed to stammer out between gasps, "Didn't see the end... like... this... Not a Legion, huh? Just... cazadores." "Craig," I sobbed, "Don't talk, please..." He began to laugh, sounding both disturbed and elated. I injected a stimpak into his arm, trying desperately to keep him alive. "Se-Seras," he mumbled, blindly reaching his arm toward the air. I took his hand and squeezed it tightly, my frame quivering with sobs. He let go of my hand and clumsily found my cheek. His limp neck somehow allowed his head to move enough to stare at my face with sightless eyes. "Craig," I wailed, placing my hand over his. He had never shown any kind of affection toward me before now. He always avoided my eyes when I looked at him and talked to me in a brusque, almost annoyed manner. "Seras... Victoria," he said between panting breaths, sounding as if he were savoring the sound of my name. "I'm here," I said through my childish, wailing cries. "You look... just like... my Carla... I'm sorry I... never told you..." My eyes widened and my tears stopped, "You- I- I'm sorry, Craig!" "I can't feel all my limbs..." he mumbled in a hoarse voice. He weakly placed both his hands on either side of my jaw and leaned toward me shakily. I moved my face toward his, and he collapsed limply with a final sigh. "NO!" I screamed, "WAKE UP!" I panicked and shoved a stimpak into his arm with an unsteady hand, breaking the needle inside his skin. My body stopped supporting itself, and I fell forward onto his chest. My left arm burned intensely. My eyes instictively darted to it. There was a large, inflamed puncture wound in my forearm. "They got us, Craig..." I whispered, my vision flickering, "And I didn't even notice..." I used all of my strength to pull my face next to his. Through my flickering vision, I saw a twisted smile on his cold, dead lips. He had finally gotten to die... I pressed my lips against his feebly, "I... love... you..." The world went black, and I knew I was dead. continuation of the story for those that don't like tragedy

My paragraphs looked so much longer on paper.... I only had like an hour and a half to write this, so it is shorter than I would have liked. Katie and Ashley are my friends from the class lol

War. War never changes. Throughout history, in every civilization, there has been war, whether for property, territory, or wealth, matters little. The most important war in history took place in the year of 2077. The Great War. Two hours long, it changed the future of the entire world. Entire cities were destroyed, and humanity's only survivors were the ones who could afford to take their families into fallout shelters or underground vaults. And I am a descendant of one of those lucky survivors. The year is 2281, and my name is Kathleen. But call me that and I'll blow your head off. It's Katie to you. My only friend is Ashley. She's a sniper, the only type of person I would trust with my life out here in the wasteland. She's quiet, mostly, but that's how I prefer it. Stealthy kills attract less attention. And this is the story we have to tell you. My footsteps seemed abnormally loud as I walked through the gravelly rubble in the ruins of an old building. "Careful," I said to myself, "Remember what happened last time you set off a tripwire." "Katie!" came Ashley's voice from behind me. The familiar beeping noise make my hair stand on end. I turned, eyes wide, and jumped back several feet. The heat of an explosion burned the ends of my hair, filling my nostrils with an unpleasant, pungent odor. "Maybe we should go," Ashley suggested in her soft voice. I strapped my hunting rifle to my back and nodded. I'd had enough unnecessary danger for one day. As we stepped out of the building's ruined front door, I noticed something in the distance. "You see that, Ashley?" I whispered, squinting at the two black silouettes on the horizon. Ashley looked through the scope of her sniper rifle, then nodded. I crouched and edged my way toward them, keeping my body hidden in the shadows. A diminutive, thin girl of about seventeen in black combat armor, with sand-colored hair and lightning-blue eyes, along with a tall man wearing a leather trenchcoat and blood-red beret, were discussing which weapon the man would use. "The Anti-Materiel Rifle is beast. You better wear it well, Craig Boone," the girl said in an authoritative voice. "Fine," was his brusque reply in a cold voice. They turned their backs to me. Now was my chance. I sprang out at them, Ashley covering me from a distance. "Give me your money and ammo!" I cried, aiming my hunting rifle at the girl, "Now! And I'll be nice and let you live!" The girl turned to me, "I knew you were there. You don't look high or drunk. Why are you doing this?" I scowled at her, "I said give me your money!" She pulled out a heavy pouch from her pocket, "You must be down on your luck," she said with a kindly smile as she tossed it to me. "And your ammo!" "I'm sorry. I need my ammo," she said gently, turning and walking away. I looked through the sight of my rifle, aiming it for her head. She turned and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. A glossy-white scar marked the middle of her forehead. She smiled childishly, "Somebody already beat you to it. I'm making it my life's mission to track him down." I lowered my rifle, "Who are you?" "Kayla," was her response. I strapped my rifle to my back and turned around, letting this one live.