Atomic beauty fallout 4

Atomic beauty fallout 4

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  1. Hook:

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  2. Ramon:

    Chapter 7 – To the Survivor, the Spoils
    Erin staggered as she tried to walk away. With the threat of gunfire and the ghouls now gone, her former adrenaline rush was crashing hard. Her vision was darkening at the edges and her limbs felt like they had been replaced by lead. She was shocked how fast it had fallen upon her as well-! Barely had she stepped away from Jason’s tomb and taken a breath, when all the panic that had been sustaining her throughout her flight and the desperate scuffle with the ghouls drained from her like water from a spilled bucket. Her shoulder knocked against a lamppost as she swayed drunkenly and it spun her around, pitching her to the ground and momentarily re-awakening her primal survival instinct, as visions of being pounced on by those feral, cannibalistic ghouls assaulted her mind. If anything, the sudden spike in panic, followed by another crash, as she realised she was in no danger, only served to make matters worse. The cycle of panic and crash continued as Erin tried her best to leave the town’s crumbling corpse and became thoroughly lost in the process. Only sheer, animal aversion kept her from blundering into the ghoul-infested interior of Concord.
    Before long, her staggering walk, dragging her body in any direction it would accept, had Erin utterly lost. She needed to rest – to find somewhere safe where she could let her energy return, but as yet, her luck had not availed her. Anywhere to rest would do. She could no-longer trust the houses, as any one of them might be hiding the flesh-eating monstrosities. Erin stumbled to a stop and blinked. She recognised this… By sheer luck (likely the last of it she was apt to have for a while), she had come full-circle, to the same camp she had blundered into during her initial attempt to draw the raiders away from Jason. A fire still burned low in the trash can, surrounded by the overturned chairs and picnic table the raiders had been sitting at. Through a broken window and doorless frame, she could see where the raiders had made themselves at home in an old post office. In spite of the mess, the promise of at least a little safety, even in a place formally inhabited by murderers and thieves, filled Erin with an overwhelming sense of relief. The raiders themselves were unlikely to return after their encounter with the horde of ravenous, living corpses, but their home had to be at least somewhat safe from them. Erin stepped forward, eager for a chance to lay dow-
    SNAP!
    Erin pitched forward onto the ground, clutching at her leg and screaming in the sudden shock of agony! In instinct, she tried to scramble away, but a sudden wrench of fresh pain forced a smothering blackness over her vision as she retched in shock and fear. Looking down, Erin’s eyes widened in horror, as she saw the steel jaws of a rusted bear trap clamped around her leg. Blood so a dark red, it looked almost black, oozed from where one of the teeth had sunk through her jumpsuit’s boot. She whimpered a loud, inarticulate denial of the shock and the pain, pulling at her leg, trying to wrench it free in panic. The short chain fastening the trap to a drainpipe jerked her leg to a stop, igniting new, all-consuming torture that brought the retching taste of bile to her throat. Erin collapsed as if she were puppet with cut strings, sobbing on the ground and fighting the overwhelming desire to black out and let oblivion leech the pain away. Her fingers were clumsy, as she reached down, tugging at the jaws, trying to force them apart. “Come on-! COME ON!” she screamed through gritted teeth, choking on her tears, “PLEASE!” Her hands scraped raw on the sharp, rusted edges. The spikes themselves were blessedly, fairly dull from age, but the slow, thick ooze from where one had punched into her leg, soon made her hands slick with blood. Panic gripped her in icy claws, constricting her vision down to a pinprick once again as her efforts grew more and more frantic.
    Erin woke in a cold sweat. As she swayed and sat up, dread seized her limbs with the unflinching grasp of iron chains. In spite of her struggling, she had still blacked out, lying there helpless in the alley. The shadows hadn’t moved, so she couldn’t have been out especially long, but still, she had lain there, helpless and bleeding and she was starting to feel light-headed. She had to get free and fast. She couldn’t just tear herself loose; no matter what strength she had mysteriously gained, these traps were designed to hold a struggling bear! Erin reached down, unable to stop herself from whimpering as the heavy iron trap weighed on her tormented leg. She’d never seen a bear trap in person before and tears kept clouding her vision, making her wipe them away with the back of her hand, but there had to be a way to get it free. The arms on the sides-! Those were the springs that held the trap closed! So all she had to do was press them down and she’d be able to pull free. Little did Erin know that her luck was still holding, just a little: Had she been caught be a new trap, there would have been no way to press the springs down far enough, but this trap had been left for decades if not centuries in its ready state, rust weakening the limbs, not that the raiders, or Erin, had known or cared for the difference. Wincing once more, as the awkward movement twisted her trapped leg and made her vision spin, Erin pushed her free foot down on one of the springs, inching it down, while she pressed her hands onto the other and applied her weight. Little by little, she grew to thank any god listening for the strength and fitness she had been unexpectedly blessed with, as the springs gave way. One of the trap’s arms fell at once, but the other remained, the tooth stuck in her leg. The pain was nauseating and Erin started to sweat and shake, as she cautiously removed one hand from the spring and tugged the arm free. The metal spike came free with a sickening, sticky resistance and the moment it was, Erin yanked her leg back and let the trap snap shut once more.
    Free of the restricting spike, the slow ooze of blood was now a steady pulse. Erin clamped a hand down on the wound, heaving with sobs of mixed relief and pain, before the urgent realisation of just how much blood she was losing, forced her into action. With one hand, she tore her bag open and snatched out one of the precious stimpaks. She was in too much pain to worry about how sanitary the needle could be after rattling around in her bag, or whatever tender fate it had endured before Sturges had found it and handed it to her; besides, the life-saving drugs it contained should combat anything too bad. After her experience with the trap, the thought of pushing the tiny needle into her leg probably shouldn’t have been much cause for concern, but even so, Erin hesitated, flinching at the thought for a moment, before pressing the needle in. Almost at once, there was a soft hiss and the dial topping the syringe ticked down to empty. In her half-delusional state, Erin thought she could almost feel the wonderful medicine stitching her skin back together and fusing the bone that was surely cracked. She sat hunched against the wall for another five minutes, keeping pressure on her wound, as the stimpak’s coagulants did their work and stopped the bleeding. Her hand was gooey as she pulled it away, with half-dried blood coating her palm and fingers. Erin winced and used a little of her precious water to clean her hands, before taking a few long gulps to combat the thirst the stimpak had left her with. Only after she was clean, did she realise what a waste it had been and cursed her vanity. At least her jumpsuit was mostly stainproof. Still not trusting her leg with any kind of weight, Erin crawled her way inside the post office. The sleeping bag on a tatty old mattress was about the most wonderful sight in the world to her at that moment, as she crawled onto it and collapsed, no longer caring if the safety of the camp was real or imagined. All Erin knew was that she needed to sleep.
    Fear woke Erin long before she wished for consciousness. Her sleep had been fitful, but even the few hours she had snatched had worked wonders. Her leg still ached, but it was tolerable now and rolling up her jumpsuit, she was relieved to see that the hole had already congealed into a gooey, dark-red scab, beneath which, the stimpack was still quickly repairing damaged tissue and muscle. Erin pushed herself up, clinging onto the shelves for support, as she tested her leg. It felt like it was healed enough to stand her weight, even though the pain was enough to make her limp. Without the miracle of modern medicine, in conditions like this, she’d have been lucky to keep her life, much less expect to walk without a limp by the next day!
    The sun was already beginning to sink, turning the world to a burning orange hue that made Erin shiver from far more than just the cold the evening brought. Little-by-little, she carefully combed the small courtyard in the back street she had entered by. The front of the post office was solidly barricaded, so anyone who wanted to come in, would have to do so through the back. Her search revealed that she had been lucky to miss a second trap during her initial sprint through the area. The door she had first burst through had been locked, but apparently not very sturdy… Erin jammed one of the chairs against it, hopefully keeping it closed. Low-strung barbed wire triplines covered the only remaining route out into the street, easily missed in the gathering gloom. Much of the meal the raiders had abandoned was now charred beyond recognition over their impromptu trashcan barbeque, but a handful of small skewers, adorned with uncooked meat, stood ready to grill. Erin hesitated for a moment, before shaking her head and stirring the embers. Paranoid as she was, there was no way those raiders were eating human meat, right? As it turned out, whatever was on the skewers tasted a little like duck, or possibly lamb. With her stomach full and the light vanishing fast, Erin sipped a little more of her water and barricaded a small back room, after dragging her new bed inside. The quiet night was full of fresh new terrors, now the spectre of those crawling, leering ghouls haunted Erin’s nightmares, making her toss and turn fitfully in her sleep.
    At long last, morning came. In spite of everything, sleep had finally claimed Erin and she awoke, staring at her Pip Boy’s clock as it gradually ticked through the minutes. She didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to walk back out into the commonwealth, to face pain and death and fear. But she couldn’t stay here either, slowly starving, walled into a tiny room… Death seemed to wait for her no matter her choice. Erin’s eyes rested on the butt of her pistol… Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, scrambling away and turning as she vomited into the corner. No. NO! She would NOT let herself think like that! A shiver colder than ice water shot through her as she coughed and heaved. Why had she even bothered living through yesterday, if she was going to-? She was going to live. No matter what, she had to survive.
    Within Erin’s mind, the stress of the last few days mixed with the chemicals her strange growth spurt had sent running through her brain and finally started to coalesce. She was going to live. The first fragile seeds of determination started to sprout, stilling the trembling in her limbs and the hammering in her heart. Erin faced a choice between succumbing, to despair, death, injury or fear and instead chose to be a survivor.
    She clutched the gun and slowly slid her barricade aside, peeking out the door. It was just past seven in the morning and the sun had just finished slipping over the horizon, shining through the cracks in the boarded windows and casting deep and long-fingered shadows across the abandoned raider den. Erin carefully slipped out, holding her breath and listening for any sign of life that might seek to end hers. All there was, was a single crow, pecking at the discarded burnt skewers she had tossed aside the night before. It regarded her with beady black eyes, before deciding she was too lively to serve as a main course and taking to its wings with a disgusted caw. Erin followed its flight for a moment, before letting her held breath with a gasp and setting her mind. These raiders had to have supplies lying around and she wasn’t going to lose any sleep from stealing from them, even if they were alive to need it. A quick search of the sleeping area uncovered far more than she ever wanted to know about the former occupants disgusting personal habits, but littered through bags, tossed into corners, or even shockingly, neatly laid out on a counter, Erin scrounged together whatever useful odds and ends she could.
    Ammunition was a priority; she hadn’t even picked up the discarded magazines from her running battle and even if she had, she only had two dozen bullets left. Fortunately, it seemed Sturges hadn’t been wrong about finding .32 calibre by the bucket. All told, between loose mags, dropped rounds and a few faded pre-war boxes, Erin managed to scrape together over a hundred spares. Considering how fast she had blown through her initial supply, that didn’t seem like much, but every little helped. Food and medicine were equally important. Preserved food was in short supply, but the raiders seemed to have done fairly well at hunting and gathering some wild food. The tatos, Erin left where they were, remembering all too well their horrible taste in Sanctuary, but the mutated carrots and corn were tossed into her bag, as some meat of dubious origin went over the grill, in the hopes that cooking it could make it last longer. Erin tried not to think about what the radiation in her food was probably going to do to her insides…
    Medicine was a slightly more dear resource, it seemed. Three irreplaceable stimpaks, alongside some over-the-counter antibiotics and some bandages that really needed boiling before Erin felt comfortable using them appeared from a medical cabinet marked with scratches that read, “Patch’s. KEEP OUT or else!” Quite a few empty syringes and one remaining un-used dose by one of the comfier chairs in a corner, suggested that one of the raiders had been badly addicted to the painkiller med-x, but most important to her, was the dog-eared copy of the Massachusetts Surgical Journal nestled alongside the meds in the cabinet, proudly boating a special on ‘Anaesthesia and you’. Her own limited medical knowledge was a liability and even falling apart as it was, the periodical was definitely welcome. Erin carefully slipped it into her bag and sighed. What had once been something of minor interest, to be glanced over in a hospital waiting room, now represented something beyond price – a fragment of knowledge most of the world had forgotten it even once knew. That one magazine probably represented the sum total of its former owner’s expertise in medicine.
    With her bag now actually starting to weigh a little, even given her inexplicable fitness, Erin was about to cut her search short, when the final room made her stop in shock. The wall had been knocked away, either by the raiders, or centuries before, opening out onto a lower rooftop, between the post office and its next neighbour. A stretch of scaffolding lead down into the backstreet, but at the lip of the roof, stood a filthy cage, made from corrugated metal, wires and bolted wood. Scattered around were the remains of the raiders cruel entertainment, stained with blood or seared black by heat… Erin remembered Jason’s pitiful condition, as he first crawled from the alley, piecing together his torture with eyes that couldn’t comprehend the sheer inhumanity of the evidence of human suffering before her. Wordlessly, she saw him in her mind’s eye, painfully pull his hands from the improvised manacles in the cage, then squeeze his emaciated frame through the bars and wire, before desperately crawling away… The day before, seeing it would have had her turn in fear and revulsion, running for her life from the scene of such torture, but now… Tears hotter than burning coals stung Erin’s eyes and her fists shook with frustrated rage. With a shock, she realised that she was glad the raiders had been slaughtered and even more appallingly, she realised not only was she glad, but she didn’t even mind her callous vindication! No-one who had done such things to another human had any right to sympathy.
    As Erin returned downstairs, a last treasure caught her eye as she was passing. Through the grille of a metal door, a large steamer trunk was just visible. Immediately, Erin’s mind made a connection to ‘treasure chest’ and she tried the handle. Locked, of course and the key was probably on one of the raider’s bodies. She frowned in annoyance, but memories of old detective films and novels brought something to mind. A bobby pin that had previously held back her bangs served carefully poked it into the lock, twisting back and forth. There was no way this was going to work, surely-?
    Click.
    Erin’s eyes widened and she cast around for something to turn the cylinder, unable to believe her stupid plan had paid off. A few minutes later, she dashed back with a screwdriver and had to contain her eagerness, as she found the position again and carefully twisted… The pin snapped, but she wasn’t about to be denied! The second of her few precious lock-picks took its place and this time, with patience and care, the door opened. Erin took a moment to push her hair out of her eyes in triumph and make a mental note to raid a dresser or clothing store for some replacements, before seeing what her efforts had earned.
    The contents of the trunk were nothing special at first glance. A few precious keepsakes from the raiders’ past victims and a few dozen bottlecaps that Erin remembered just in time that Preston had told her were the currency now. Hardly much of a treasure trove. Erin bit back her disappointment and sighed, leaving the room and trying to think of her next move. “One more check first… Just to make sure I haven’t missed anything,” she muttered, looking at the piles of refuse scattered around the living area. The thought of going through all that garbage brought a shiver to her limbs, but given the equipment she’d been able to scavenge so far, it was worth it. Sweat and blood-stained garments were casually disregarded, convinced there was nothing of value to be found digging through their discarded piles, but behind the post office’s counter, a series of sacks had been nailed in place, providing a curtain for the storage area beneath. Pulling them aside, Erin’s eyes widened as she remembered Sturge’s words. “Brahmin leather and animal hide’s lightweight and tough. Y’all don’t really look strong enough for anything metal.” She had no idea what a ‘brahmin’ was – something Indian maybe, but leather she could recognise. Apparently, one of the raiders had removed it to relax and hadn’t had time to put it on again before chasing after Erin to his death. It was only a collection of leather straps and plates, but there was no denying that some armour was better than nothing. Given how dangerous life had become lately, Erin was more than glad to pull it on. Tough, segmented leather plates covered her shoulders and right wrist (the Pip Boy on her left prevented her symmetry); kneepads and shinguards protected her legs and across her chest, the belts held a single plate in place over her right breast. It wasn’t over her heart, but the protection brought a world of relief to Erin, even if even the hard, solid leather probably wouldn’t stop a bullet. She hadn’t even known leather could get this tough, even the newest and stiffest of shoes didn’t get it feeling more like wood or hard plastic the way this did. More useful still were the pockets and pouches attached to the belts, letting her re-distribute the weight of her gear and providing a slightly more convenient place to stash her ammunition than under her vault suit. There was even a holster for her pistol, finally! Erin couldn’t help herself from posing a little as the new armour made her feel a little like some sort of action hero, or an extra from the Silver Shroud. “Well, more like Grognak the Barbarian,” she mused, blushing and looking down at herself. Hopefully she wouldn’t be mistaken for a raider herself, but the blue vault suit would probably help there. All the same, wearing leather armour like she was a starting character in a holotape game; if the situation wasn’t so dire, she probably would have died of self-conscious embarrassment.
    At long last, it was time to leave. The raiders’ campground was as looted as it was going to get and Erin was as prepared as she would ever be. The wound on her leg had healed to a large, pockmark scar and she no longer felt pain from walking on it, so there was nothing keeping her here. Again, she considered turning back to Sanctuary, but she’d already come this far and her mind was made up to survive. If she was going to do that, she had to find out what Vault-Tec had done to her body. Erin straightened her back and walked forward into the early afternoon light. She was resolved and ready and had already lived through the worst. Whatever was waiting for her, she was ready!
    As it turned out, what was waiting for her, was a rather large, almost hairless, probably rabid and most certainly hostile dog, flanked by two others like it. All three of them had their savage eyes fixed on Erin, as she strode right out in front of them. Her confident feeling immediately evaporated at the sight of the mongrels’ bared teeth. In her frail happiness at finding so much to aid her had made Erin forget for a moment exactly the nature of the place she was in and just how vulnerable she was when her guard was down.
    “Niiice doggy?” she tried, slowly backing into the alley.
    The dog flattened its ears and growled.

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