With the fighting over, the adrenaline wasted no time flushing itself back out of my system. Which was a problem, because I really could've used the endorphins to help keep the pain at bay. Shaking hands are a bad thing for surgery, but it was better than worrying about every little ache and pain. A little breathing room I found myself wishing I had.

My duster was folded off to the side of me, with my bullet-proof vest weighing it down. I had to strip off my undershirt as well, just to give myself the best view of the wound. It was mostly healed, due to having stuck myself with a stimpack. But where the bullet hit had left behind a star-shaped scar and puckered skin.

It was easy enough to locate under my skin, given the way it hurt and how my bicep deformed.

After blowing the hole out of the substation, I'd put as much distance as I reasonably could between myself and the White Fang. Only after I did, had I realized they'd managed to give me a parting gift. That's what I got for walking into an obvious trap. Bastards hadn't even had the courtesy to bait it with something valuable. It was like they'd armed a mouse trap with poison. Doubly insidious and a touch overkill.

Would've worked too.

As soon as I finished digging the bullet out of my arm, I was going to need to consider how to begin better implementing Dust into my arsenal. Or how I was going to fix my equipment. Again.

Always gotta be putting holes in my coat. Bastards.

But I needed to worry more about the bullet first.

Performing surgery on yourself isn't a simple thing, nor is it advised. You're not exactly equipped with the best angles to see everything, which is a problem. Last thing you wanted to do is nick a vein and not have the ability to see it until you've already left your body. But you also need the right tools for the job. Forceps, abductors, scalpels, the whole nine if you want to do it right.

I had a pair of needle-nose pliers. That I stole from a garage.

At least I left a couple lien to pay for the broken lock.

There weren't exactly a lot of options, but I at least got a pair that wasn't too oily or rusty. Beat having to use my fingers, as I'd done once or twice in the past.

Seated topless on a garbage can, in a deserted back alley at the edge of the industrial district, I prepped for surgery. Started with cleaning my arm, using water from my (trusty) Vault 13 Canteen. It wasn't sterile, but it kept the worst of the sweat and grime from getting dragged in. Stimpack would have to account for any chance of infection. Then I wrapped a belt around my other arm to work as a tourniquet. Help stem blood flow, considering this was going to take time.

Reaching down to my boot, I pulled Blood-Nap from its sheathe, bringing it up to my arm.

I looked down at my arm, and drew a steady breath. Sometimes, having an Adamantium Skeleton wasn't such a nice thing.

Gently, I set the tip of my knife just above the scar tissue. Felt the tip press against my skin, as the arm holding the blade ached. How lucky, the arm with bullet was my off-hand.

'Note to self: Remember to sharpen Blood-Nap.'

The point of the knife pierced my skin, and I dragged it downward in calm, steady motion. Most people, when they cut themselves, do it purely by accident. A quick flick or drag of the blade, and it's over. Nothing but a flash of pain and blood to show for it. Having to doctor yourself is different. The pain is constant, and deliberate. You have to resist the urge to take it out, or move the blade off course. It's best left to the people who have a clue what they're doing.

Unfortunately, I was the only person available for the job.

Carefully, I carved the first incision. Enough to get past the skin, so I could begin assessing the damage. In using a stimpack to heal myself, it sealed the bullet it. Meaning all of the muscle and sinew had to reform around it instead. Scar tissue is different from normal tissue, but it can be much harder to pick out when it's still pumping blood. I could only try and follow the sensations in my arm, hope they guided me on course while I dug after the bullet.

Made even more difficult, by the fact I was doing it with my hand tools and a bowie knife.

I was only a step away from getting medieval.

Emphasized, when my arm twitched and I nicked a vein. The tourniquet kept it from becoming a problem, but I wasn't having a fun time.

Relaxing my arm, I continued to slice at my biceps, watching a crimson river slowly trickle its way out. A reminder I was working under a time limit. But after a minute or two of stabbing myself, I could feel the tip of my knife begin to prod against something solid. Further evidenced by the way I felt the bullet shift sharply against the surrounding tissues. Normally, I would use both hands. Spread the wound a little, so I could make sure I was digging in the right spot. Then maybe use a pair of tweezers to pull it out.

Since one arm was indisposed, all I had was my knife.

Carefully, oh so carefully, I worked the tip of my way too big knife around the edge of the bullet. Feeling for a lip, some place I could get leverage under and begin manipulating it. It took a few tries, and a few more shredded muscle fibers, before I felt the tip sink into the right place. With great discomfort on my part, I began to lever the bullet from its resting place. Angling it so I might get a better grip of it. Soon as it was, I took up the pliers and slid them into the incision. Fumbling them around the metal. Eventually, with a little more pain, I managed to get a good grip of it and began to pull. Moving it upward, towards the incision.

After several minutes, I managed to get it out. The bullet slid out in a flattened, mangled wad of lead, pulling at the wound as it went. Once it was free though, I could feel myself beginning to relax. Holding the bullet up to the pale moonlight, I began to inspect it.

"… Oh you've got to be fucking with me." I hissed.

The Bullet had fractured. Just looking at the busted wad of lead I'd pulled out, I knew there was still a good chunk of it in my arm. More than likely, that was chunks rather than chunk.

I was going to need to go back in for another round. Bad enough my aura was actively trying to reseal the wound. In the time it'd taken me to get set-up, it hadn't come back to proper strength. Didn't take much to intuit: If I didn't get the bullets out, I didn't get the extra protection.

With a growl, I pocketed the bullet for later comparison and picked up Blood-Nap. Preparing to dive back in and keep fishing around, as a car drove by the mouth of the alley.

I paused, then looked to the mouth of the alley. There hadn't been any traffic until then. No reason to be, that late at night, in the industrial district of all places.

Following instinct, I got off the can and moved immediately behind cover.

Half a second later, the car reversed back to the mouth of the alley, idling in front of it.

I cursed, quietly, and began pulling my armor back on. I wasn't going to have time to secure it, but it was better than nothing.

The doors of the car opened, and four White Fang climbed out of it. I could just barely see them, from behind cover, scanning the alley.

I stuck my wounded arm with another stimpack to re-seal the wound. Things were going to go south again at any moment. The last thing I needed to worry about was the tourniquet letting go and me bleeding out. Which also gave me an excuse to collect my belt.

The four White Fang crept into the alley, pulling themselves into a tight formation. I pulled my shotgun around front of me and waited. Listening as they stepped closer.

"You sure you saw him?" One of the Fang asked.

"Man, I don't know." Another said "It's dark and I'm fucking tired. It sure looked like that was him."

"Lucky break then?" a third said "Wouldn't think he was still hanging around… hold up." The White Fang stopped moving, turning to look at the third, who began sniffing at the air. "… Does anyone else smell blood?"

'… fuck.'

The Fourth cracked a smile. "He's wounded. This'll be eas-"

I popped up from cover and opened VATs. Judging my shots on the unsuspecting Fang. Clear shots on both of the closer ones. Rear two would be difficult. One with the nose was in rear. If there was one I couldn't allow to keep standing, it was him.

VATs closed.

My shotgun thundered; buckshot flew down the alley.

It caught the nosey one in the face. The surprise meant his aura didn't have time to compensate.

The shot ripped a third of his head into ragged meat.

I cycled the action as the Fang began to whip towards me. My wounded arm fought my aim, and rebelled at the recoil of the shotgun. My second shot wasn't as quick to follow, or as accurate. But it still managed to wing another of the Fang.

The other two quickly gathered their wits and returned fire. Bullets rattling off the surrounding brick walls and the dumpster I was perched behind. I could see the way the metal buckled with the impacts. It wouldn't cover me for long.

I cycled and fired a third shot, hitting the one I'd already winged. The fourth was already on the ground, if he wasn't dead the massive blood loss would change that.

The other two Fang immediately retreated back to the cover of their car. The one I winged stumbled after them, struggling to keep himself upright.

I took the opening, dropping my shotgun and pulling out my flare gun. I took aim and shot a standard round towards the winged one. The glowing ball of red light flew through the air, narrowly missing him because of my off-kilter aim.

But it flew past him, and set the car on fire instead. Which instead frenzied his two companions. Fire has that effect.

Spying an opening where no one was looking at me, I took it.

I slapped my flare gun back into place and grabbed my shotgun, cradling it with my bad arm as I turned and ran. The alley would have an outlet elsewhere. Even if it didn't, my strength and agility were still enhanced, albeit not by much. If I stayed still, they'd have reinforcement's en-route and I'd be pinned back to square one. This time without anywhere near enough cover.

Not that it helped the first time.

I could hear the White Fang shouting behind me, but no bullets flew. They were too busy trying to figure out what happened. But if they were hunting for me, it was only a matter of time before they called for back-up. Before they did, I needed to be gone.

The Alley hooked to the side and I turned with it, slinging my shotgun onto my back. I bolted down ahead and broke onto the adjoining street. Following my rough mental layout of the city, I was near the commercial district. There was a temptation to leave the Industrial district entirely. The commercial sector stood a better chance of having the police around, and I had more opportunities to lose the White Fang. But it would also mean leading them into a more populated area without any actual plan. Dragging bystanders into my mess wouldn't help, and would defeat the purpose of doing all of it.

But the further away I got from where they'd been holed-up, the better. I was willing to hedge bets on them not having prepared for a protracted chase. Resources can't be shifted that quickly.

So I kept to the edge of the Commercial district. Knowing that, if nothing else, it kept my options open. I dipped down another alley. My arm throbbed as I ran. I could feel the shrapnel in my arm slicing against the surrounding tissue. Had the bullet stayed intact, the pain would've been dulled at least, if no less present. Instead, every errant sway of my arm sent a stab of pain through my nerve endings. Actively trying to use it was even worse. As I climbed a ladder to the rooftops, my brain practically screamed at me to stop. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear him very clearly.

Once at a point of vantage, I was able to move more easily. The streets below were practically deserted. Given the time of night it was, that wasn't a bad thing. It made it stand out more when a car passed. The way each one seemed to be rolling along at a leisurely pace. There was no telling who would or wouldn't be inside of them.

I just needed to get some place safe. Safer anyway.

The airships wouldn't be running for hours yet. I couldn't head back to Beacon without them. But this wasn't anything I couldn't handle yet. Just needed to keep my wits about me. I could hold the line for another…

Six hours.

Not a problem.

I continued along the rooftops at speed. Pushing myself as hard as I could. I didn't need to try and be stealthy if I was already out of sight. People don't look up.

A crossing came up to me and I pushed off the edge of the roof. Aiming for one of the street lamps.

Then a cramp shot through my leg, right as I reached it.

I hit the lamp and my leg went dead. My arms flung forward to try and catch me, but the only thing I did was smack my wounded arm against solid steel.

I bounced off the lamp and fell. Worse, bouncing off the lamp put a spin to me, so I couldn't even control how fell.

So I hit the ground on my wounded arm too. Then bounced, rolled, and tumbled to a stop in the middle of the street. If there was one thing I was glad about, it was that no one I knew saw it. They'd never let me live it down if they saw how badly I ate shit.

The impact knocked the wind out of me, to start. Coupled with the sound of screaming cartilage, I was pretty sure I dislocated my shoulder too. Which only added more pain to the matter. Dull pain throbbed through me, made pulling a breath hard at first. Made thinking hard for that matter. My body didn't want to listen to me anymore, and it took no small amount of effort to get myself moving.

But, as I was picking myself up, I was given an incentive.

Oncoming traffic.

The lights of an approaching car washed over me, and I summoned enough adrenaline to pull myself up. Only to dive out of the way once more as the engine roared.

The vehicle, a pick-up truck, flew past me as I dove across the pavement. As I tumbled onto the sidewalk, I heard the screech of its tires. I scrambled to my feet, looking to find the truck had skidded to a halt about a dozen yards away.

A pair of White Fang hopped out of its bed.

'OH GIVE ME A BREAK!'

The Fang sprinted towards me, Assault rifles swiveling up towards me. As they let loose, I strafed to the side, barely stepping out of their fire lane.

I drew That Gun and let off a round. It missed, bad aim, but bought me a moment to start sprinting for cover again. Well, not sprinting, too much pain for sprinting. Hobbling, I hobbled for cover.

The Truck the Fang had leapt out of roared. It lurched backward and whipped around in a wide arc, front facing towards me, headlights casting long shadows from the Fang in front of it. With a moment's thought, the two Fang leapt out of the Truck's path.

The Driver gunned the engine.

My legs didn't stop moving, but my finger squeezed the trigger fast enough to empty the cylinder. With luck, they all flew vaguely in the direction of the cab. I weaved back onto the sidewalk, past a streetlamp, and into another alley. I ejected the spent casings from That Gun, reloaded it, then scrambled for my Flare Gun, trying to slap a new shell into it.

From beyond the mouth of the alley, Tires squealed. The sound of the truck's engine roared closer.

Almost as quickly as I'd loaded a fresh flare into the gun, I scrambled to replace it with a dust shell.

The truck bit the curb with an audible grind, and hurtled into view. Headlights shining upon me like the eyes of an angry demon. It was a straight shot down the alley between us, and it quickly built speed.

I slapped an Ice shell into the gun and fired at the direction of the cab. The ice blue orb trail mist through the air as it sped to meet the cab.

The two collided in a cloud of cold wind, mist, and rent metal. A massive chunk of ice caved-in the windshield, messing with the driver enough he couldn't keep the vehicle straight. It plowed into one of the alley's walls.

But kept coming. The momentum sent it into a tail spin.

In a moment of knee-jerk reaction, I jumped upward. Knowing I couldn't get out of the way in time.

The truck, grinding itself to a halt, slammed into me, sending me tumbling deeper into the alley. My head spun, and ears rang as I struggled to my feet. I think the only thing that kept me going at that point was just plan bull-headedness. If I didn't have it, I'm pretty sure that would've been the end of it there.

Instead, I got to my feet and kept hobbling. Everything hurt, but I kept going. I could hear the truck trying to dig itself out of the wall, but didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

With a far less than professional motion, I pulled my arm forward, forcing my shoulder to relocate itself. The pain was just one more in the growing choir, and it was getting easy enough to drown it out.

I could hear the Fang struggling behind me. The ones in the truck at least. The ones in the Street wouldn't have as much trouble getting around it. How long before they were on me?

Not long enough. Never long enough.

As soon as they were past the truck and had a clear shot, they would take it. The only thing I could do at that point was keep running. There was no telling if I had the means to make a stand and have it matter. Worse, how long would it take for more Fang to come crashing in on us? I was already wounded, and only going to get worse if things dragged on.

Emphasizing that point, as I clambered over a chain-link fence at the other side of the alley, I came down and twisted my ankle.

"Son of a bitch!" I hissed, and began scrambling forward, trying to take in my surroundings. I was still in a back alley, but a nicer one than where I'd been. You don't notice how nice an alley is until you've stepped down the wrong one once or twice. This one looked like people regularly used it, the trash was properly put away and kept in fairly ship shape. Helped cut down on rodents and pests. Stoops and backdoors lined the walls, leading into the surrounding buildings. It was a straight shot out onto the next street. Most days, I was sure I could make it, break line of sight completely with whoever was chasing me.

But I could hear the Fang shouting just beyond the fence.

With half a second to mull my course of action, I hobbled over to the secured trash cans and dumpsters. The top of the dumpster was locked, so I couldn't climb into it. But it was still on wheels. With great pains, I pried it away from the wall. Just far enough that I could squeeze between them. An uncomfortably tight fit, but if it worked then who cared.

If it didn't work, I wasn't going to last long enough to care.

I slid into the crevice and kept low. I could hear the Fang's footsteps echoing through the alley. There was a clatter and rattle of metal, as they clambered over the fence. Followed quickly by more footsteps, that petered off not long after. Coming to a stop near the dumpster.

"… Fuck, where'd he go?" One of the Fang hissed.

"He's gotta still be going." The second said, huffing and puffing "Crazy fucker, can't believe he got Odie to wreck."

"Fuck Odie, did you see what he did to the boss?" The first said "I almost don't think we should be chasing him. Cops'll be on us next if we keep this up."

"Don't let Taurus catch you saying that." The second said, then paused "… C'mon, we'll lose him for good if we stop now. 'Least we know he can't shoot for shit."

I was half tempted to pop out and prove him wrong. But that didn't bode well for my long-term health either, so I let it slide.

The Two Fang sprinted towards the mouth of the alley. After a short distance, I got line of sight on them, before watching run out onto the street. Disappearing around the edge of a building. I continued to crouch behind the dumpster for a moment, waiting. Prepared that, at any moment, they'd just randomly decide to come running back.

When they didn't, I knew I was… safe. Again, for a loose definition.

'… yeah. Six hours… right.'

I felt myself collapse in the space between the dumpster and wall. Every part of me felt like it weighed three times as much, my arm and shoulder felt like ground meat, and everything hurt. Maybe I could keep this up for Six hours. But would I be in any shape to actually get to the airship after all that? I was going to have to be. I didn't have any other options.

"If something happens, you're going to let us help… We're trusting you, but you need to be able to trust us too."

I didn't have any other options. I was just going to have to grit my teeth and push on. Sure, my teeth were practically chipped to pieces and I was a stiff push from falling apart, but I could keep going.

If I survived worse, why couldn't I do this?

I gripped the edge of the dumpster and pulled myself out of the space, taking a step back-out into the alley.

Then the sole of my right boot blew out, and I stepped into a tepid puddle of dumpster water.

"… Ok. Fuck it. You win." I growled, flopping out of cover. It seemed my body had decided I'd reached my physical limit a long while back.

The question became, would I get help that mattered? I was only going to have a small window to plan and catch my breath. If the White Fang were going to be actively hunting me through Vale, the simple answer was to leave, ASAP. I would need to find somewhere to hunker down and hope they didn't find me. Or at least some place I could make defensible, without others getting caught in the crossfire. I was going to need someplace isolated, or otherwise abandoned. Because clearly I knew so many of them.

…Given recent events, more than a few of them, actually.

With a painful motion and a bit of a grimace, I swung my arm up and caught. Though my wounds had both of them wanting to fall back to my side again.

I checked my map. It took a few moments to scan it over, try to think of someplace I knew likely wouldn't be under surveillance anymore. Both by the White Fang and otherwise. Which was a problem. There wouldn't be many places the White Fang wouldn't look, and the cops would have a good number of them roped-off yet. I was going to need something a bit more under the radar.

As my arms- as my body throbbed, my tired eyes glanced over the map of my Pip-boy. Much of the amber and black blurring together. It felt next to impossible to actually pick out anything.

Somehow though, my body found something while on what was basically auto-pilot. My eyes flashed over it, and my consciousness picked out a T and a B, while the rest of the letters melted into gobbuldy-guck. For all I knew, I'd actually just picked out Tom's Butchery, Or Bruner's Thatchery. What either would be doing on my map, I had no idea. But given the location on the map and the little surrounding context I could make out, I got a rough idea of what I'd selected.

It would work well enough, assuming the owner kept to his word.

I let my arm lower, gratefully, then gingerly fished my scroll out of my pocket. There was another brief pause, as I struggled through the windows and menus trying to get to the right thing. But eventually, I managed to locate the right number and picture. With a quick tap, the screen changed again. Showing a blue background, with two portraits and a phone between them. One for my phone, one for the other.

I raised the phone to my ear, and waited, listening to the dial tone. After a short time, the line clicked open.

"… Hello?" Ruby asked, voice sounding groggy and half asleep over the speaker.

"Ruby?" I asked, keeping my voice low "That's you right? I didn't mess this up?"

"… Six?" Ruby asked, then paused "… What time is it?"

"Late." I answered "I don't have a lot of time to explain, but I need you to give the phon- Scroll to Yang."

"… She's asleep." Ruby said blearily.

"I'm sure she is." I said, trying to be patient "Wake her up, this is important."

There was silence for a moment, as Ruby's sleep addled brain struggled to process what I was asking. But after it passed, I could hear the sound of ruffling cloth and squeaking bedsprings. Followed almost immediately by a yelp from Ruby as she probably literally rolled out of her bunk. She, or perhaps one of our teammates, could be heard faintly grumbling on the other end of the line. There was another squeak of bedsprings, then more hushed words on the other side of the line.

"…mm-ello?" Yang's voice croaked over the line.

"Yang, I don't have a lot of time to explain." I hissed quickly over the line "I need you to come down to Vale and get me."

"...m-what?" She asked.

I took a deep breath, feeling arms begin to throb again. "Yang, I don't have time to play twenty questions. Either you can get down to Vale or you can't, which is it?"

Another pause. "… Six, it's almost one in the morning. What do you need me to come down to Vale for?"

"It's important." I hissed, getting agitated "Just… get down here, alright?"

It shouldn't have been that difficult to get them involved. They were all gung-ho about wanting to do more than just sit around waiting. But suddenly, when I was showing that I needed their help, it was like pulling teeth. I would give them the benefit of my calling in the middle of the night, when they were clearly asleep. That was hardly an excuse though. When trouble calls, you don't get to pick and choose when to be ready, you just need to be.

My wounds and situation definitely weren't helping with my patience either.

"… Six, it's… early?" Yang said, trying to find the words "Whatever it is, can't it-"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE YANG I'VE GOT A BULLET IN MY ARM!" I shouted "CAN YOU GET ME OR NOT!?"

A heavy, pregnant silence passed over the phone.

"… What?" Yang asked, voice suddenly very sober.

"I don't have time to-" I started, then stopped turning towards the mouth of the alley.

The sound of footsteps was quickly approaching. Either the Fang were coming back, or more were on the way. Or both, both was always possible.

"-Fuck." I swore, trying to figure out where to go. The only ways out where forward, or back over the fence.

Forward it was.

"Six?" Yang asked

"Do you know where Tukson's Book trade is?" I asked, pulling my shotgun off my back. The action racked open, and I made sure the shells were topped off. "If you can find it in your heart to get your ass out of bed and come help me, I'll be hiding in the backroom."

Footsteps were getting closer.

"Gotta go." I said.

"Wai-"

I cut the line and pocketed my scroll. Assuming Yang was actually going to get around to helping me, I'd thank her then. If she didn't, well, it just proved my point for me.

And would probably mean I was dead.

Gritting my teeth, I started towards the mouth of the alley. Trying my best to supplement my waning stamina with aura. A strange feeling. Like my muscles were hollowed out, and some outside force was filling the vacuum. Again, similar to moving on auto-pilot. I wouldn't have the protection, but the extra strength was welcome.

I reached the mouth of the alley the same time as the White Fang did. I saw the first White Fang began to skid around the corner, confused grimace creasing his mouth.

His mouth quickly fell open in surprise, as he stared down the barrel of my shotgun. He started to say something.

It was drowned out by the thunder of my weapon. The magnum shell emptied the contents of his skull onto the pavement.

As his body began to fall, his friend stumbled after him. Horror lighting his masked face. I cycled the action of my shotgun and loaded another shell with his name on it.

The second Fang didn't hesitate, he whipped his assault rifle in my direction and panic-fired. Bullets spattering and spraying against the ground uncontrolled as he brought it up. Defying common sense, I rushed towards him. Beating his rifle before he could get the muzzle pointed at me. My shotgun came up, bracing against his weapon as it continued to fire. Roaring defiant and deafeningly at me. Fire curling out from the end of the barrel.

Pivoting my shotgun, I slid it underneath the weapon and pushed upward. The recoil helping to force it upward. Destroying what little balance and control the Fang had over it. After a moment of firing fruitlessly into the air, he got his finger off the trigger and found the sense to start trying to fight back properly.

Right as I got the muzzle of my shotgun around to face his head, he dropped his weapon and weaved to the side. As he did, my finger left the trigger, sliding to the grip as I swung the butt of my shotgun around. I clipped the tip of the Fang's mask, and he back pedaled, rifle clattering to the ground.

"You bastard!" The Fang squealed, face flicking down to his dead friend.

"Worry about YOURSELF!" I growled, lunging towards him.

The Fang raised his arms in a guard as my shotgun crashed against him. I could feel the impact rock back through both of my arms, agitating my wounds. Made me wonder if I was even hitting as hard as I could've been. Good guess was no.

Braced against the hit, the Fang shot back, fist snapping out. I weaved under the punch, and they combo'd it into an uppercut. Their fist scraped the edge of my mask as I narrowly avoided it.

Which was then followed by a low kick.

I pulled my shotgun around front of me and barred against it. The impact easily traveled through the weapon, up my arms, but it was better than nothing. Seeing it as an opening the Fang pushed in, trying to keep the pressure on me.

Shotgun already barred in front of me, I came up and slammed the length of it into his face. He at it, and tried to slip into another punch. Still using my shotgun as a bar, I slipped around the punch and used it to trap the Fang's arm. Then I twisted the arm, dragging him forward as I kicked into his knee. The momentum pulling him towards the ground as his arm began to twist at a bad angle.

Once he was down, I pushed in. His aura protected him at first.

Then I angled my shotgun into his back, burying the muzzle against him.

There was a dull thud, a flash of light and aura. The White Fang howled in pain.

I twisted his arm, heard it snap in two places, felt it break in three.

Then I smashed my shotgun against the back of his head. Maybe overkill, but it put him out of it completely. Assuming the shotgun blast hadn't been enough to kill him.

I stayed there over him for a moment. Trying to catch my breath, and waiting for the ache in my arms to subside. I could feel my aura flowing out of them like a blown valve. It was only by conscious effort I was getting them to do what I wanted. Like trying to keep a flat-tire inflated by constantly re-inflating it rather than plugging the leak. An apt description, actually.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to stop and put air in it.

I picked myself up and started running, darting in the direction of Tukson's former business. Trusting my compass to guide me as I began to weave into another alley. Quicker and quieter though the rooftops were, I wasn't in the condition to take them. I'd already survived one fall off them that night, trying my luck wasn't worth the chance. I got off easy in just having both my arms semi-functional. If I lost one of my legs, I'd be a Gomorrah girl without a condom. Or with a condom for that matter. Suppose that part didn't hold much sway given the profession and location.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Either case, I kept low to the alleys and moved quickly when I was in the open. There were more streets to cross than not, so I had to be fast and smart. There weren't any Fang patrolling on foot, that I saw. It would be a dumb idea on their part. If the gunfire hadn't already gotten the police's attention, having the White Fang openly patrolling the streets would. Maybe they felt confident they could take me with their numbers, but I don't think even they were stupid enough to tangle with police unprepared.

More than once however I ducked behind trash bins, or scrambled onto fire-escapes to avoid a passing vehicle. Even in the event that they somehow weren't the White Fang, it wasn't worth risking it. So I'd waste the time it took. Even if it felt like I was running on barely present fumes just to get as far as I did. The closer I got to Tukson, the more I could feel my aura failing me. It was getting harder to think, my head felt like it was full of static, not the Tesla-coil kind either. Like a radio with a busted receiver.

After an eternity of skulking through the darkening streets of Vale, I could see my destination ahead of me.

Tukson's Book Trade looked a lot different in the dark. It looked plenty welcoming during the day, or when the lights were on. But, blacked out, in the dead of night with the street lamps casting shadows, it looked dead. Tukson wouldn't have been gone long, maybe three weeks at the most. But he took whatever life the building once had with him. Leaving behind only the shell of what it was.

I crossed out of the alley and over the street to it. Tried the front door, and found it unlocked. Tukson must've figured whatever he left behind wasn't worth protecting.

Steeling myself against my own growing weakness, I pushed into the building.

Inside was just as much of a mess as the last time I'd been there. Shelves knocked over, books ruined, bullet holes and blood on the walls. Difference was, it was now painted in shades of shadow and dust. One a product of the time, and the other a result of it. Stagnant air meant it would settle out eventually. See it enough in the old ruins. Funny, how much the building looked like one with Tukson gone.

I let the door swing closed behind me as I stumbled forward. The place was dead silent. There was no noise coming in from outside. No lights passing by the front windows.

With luck, I'd gotten in completely undetected.

Which meant I'd entered in full view of a White Fang hunting party, and they'd storm the building any minute. Because that's exactly what my luck is.

Rather than wait around in the open and find out, I made tracks for a door at the far side of the room. It led into the back of the store. A stuffy little room, filled with cardboard boxes, paperbacks, and office supplies. Shelves laden with more expensive looking books jutted from the walls into the room. As I moved deeper in, I took note of a staircase towards one side of the room, leading up into the building. An emergency exit? Access to an apartment? Didn't matter at the time, but I took note of it.

I approached the back wall, beside one of the desks, and pulled out a stool to sit on. Facing towards the door, I level my shotgun and waited.

If Yang didn't show up soon, I was going to need to start digging the bullet out of my arm again. But I needed to be reasonably certain I wasn't going to be interrupted mid-surgery… again.

So I sat there. In the dark of the room. Shotgun leveled at the door.

Waiting.

…

As I climbed the long staircase to Campanas del Sol, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

All around me, I could hear the rasping, reverberating breathing of the Ghost People.

But I didn't see them.

Campanas del Sol was a massive, open courtyard at the top of a long staircase. At the bottom of the stairs was a landing that led elsewhere in the Madre, and another descending staircase. The second stairs were filled with Cloud, so I was less inclined to go investigate them. Even if the prospect seemed tempting compared to dealing with the Ghost People.

But my Pip-boy said my destination was ahead of me, not behind.

So I had no choice but to face things head on.

The courtyard of Campanas Del Sol was largely abandoned. It must have been one of the locations Sinclair had felt people didn't need to spend time, during the Gala. It was still falling apart, like the rest of the Madre, but it just seemed more empty than it should've. Sinclair would've only needed someone to throw the switch for the Gala, so it wouldn't have seen much use by guests. But the vacancy of it only served to put me further on edge.

It meant the Ghost People were waiting.

I hadn't run into many of them on the way, and I'd kept my head down when I did. I didn't have the supplies to chance a confrontation. Even if I did, Fighting the Ghost People wasn't something I really wanted to do.

But, seeing that I wasn't going to be immediately under attack, I moved into the courtyard. Keeping the muzzle of my Automatic Rifle low and my finger off the trigger. I'd managed to pick up a few rounds to replace some I'd wasted getting everyone into position. They hadn't made it easy either, Dog/God only barely cared what I had to say and Domino thought I was in this thing to screw him over. The only one who didn't resist me at every step was Christine, but even she put up some struggle. Mostly because the place she needed to be set off a degree of claustrophobia she'd developed.

I'd managed to work with all of them though, painful as it was. But they were all willing to stay in position.

It even led to an unexpected discovery, regarding Christine. A certain connection between her and myself, via a mutual friend.

Or lover, in her case.

As if I didn't have enough of a reason to make sure she, at least, got out of this mess in one piece.

I crept quietly into the courtyard of Campanas Del Sol. Carefully watching to make sure the Ghost People didn't suddenly decide to sneak up on me. Wouldn't have been the first time they'd made the effort. Which was an impressive feat considering how loud they were. I probably needed to get someone to test me for tinnitus if I made it out of the Madre.

My Pip-boy pointed me straight ahead into a wall. Craning my head back, I guessed it was actually telling me to climb the bell-tower above me. The only problem to that was the lack of an obvious way in. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, that someone seemed to have found a solution to that. More evidence to that fact that things weren't what they seemed. To one side of the courtyard, a wall had been blown out, into the buildings beyond. Knowing how the Madre's buildings tended to snake together, I took the path in. Keeping my Rifle at the ready all the while.

The Ghost People's rasping seemed to be all around me. Buzzing in my ears like the chitter of cazadors. At any moment, ready to lunge from the corners of my vision.

Domino said that most of them hid underground. Where and how didn't matter.

Fittingly, the path had me descending into a large wine cellar. It was massive, spanning almost the entire courtyard paved above it. Sinclair cut corners everywhere else, but I guess he wanted his partygoers to be good and soused. Which seemed so very counter to a lot of the bans he put in place regarding chems.

But even as I crossed through the cellar, I saw no Ghost People. Only heard them. It was making my nerves dance. I didn't want to fight them. But knowing they were there, just waiting, was even worse. Any moment, they'd rush in, and that would be it. I don't know what kept them from doing it then and there.

But they didn't.

I reached the other side of the cellar and climbed the stairs back out. At the top of the first flight, I passed through some sort of ritual room. I don't what it had been set-up for, or when, only that it was one. An open room, lined with candles, and a wooden altar in the center. A centuries-decayed skeleton lay over the altar, charred jaw hanging open.

Maybe it'd been intended for a pre-war wake, but I couldn't tell.

If it was more recent then that, I didn't want to know.

I rounded another corner and climbed another flight of stairs. From there it was an almost straight shot up to the bell-tower. The stairs led out onto the veranda ringing the courtyard. I circled them, and walked through a broken wall to a bunkroom. Then through another wall to a series of apartments and more stairs.

That final set of stairs led to a store room, and finally a ladder. My objective was at the top of it.

I climbed it, and entered the belfry.

The view over the Madre was spectacular, and a cool, clean breeze swept over my face. Far below me I could see the crimson Cloud floating over the streets. See the vague movements of the Ghost people that yet milled the streets. The glow of the holograms that patrolled their centuries old routes. High on its mesa, the Sierra Madre. Far above it, the star filled sky.

In its own eerie way, it was beautiful.

I took a moment and breathed deeply of the night air. It smelled of the desert, free of the noxious Cloud. It'd been weeks since I hadn't smelled anything tainted by the Cloud. It immediately filled me with a sense of longing, reminding me what was waiting beyond the Madre's walls.

Failure was not an option.

Greedily drinking in the night air, I approached the controls console. There was an array of switches, but only one that mattered. The main switch, waiting to be reset.

I lifted it back into position, priming it.

"Is everything ready?" Elijah's voice hissed through the belfry's speakers. "Damn transceivers… There. They should all be linked through the Bell tower."

"I'm in the tower." I answered "Everyone, sound off."

The sound of Christine's typing rolled through the speaker. But I could just barely make out the cadence for 'Shave and a Haircut'. Which I gave the requisite two taps.

"Dog is in the cage." God growled "Not for long."

"What are we waiting for!?" Domino hissed "Strike up the band already… Oh but, um, be mindful of the ghost people once you do. This'll surely kick up a fuss."

"Acknowledged." I said, feeling my heartrate begin to ratchet upward "Alright, places people. The show is about to begin."

"Finally, now the gates will open." Elijah rasped "-and so will the skies!"

Steeling my nerves, I gripped the handle of the switched and slammed it down. Instantly there was a boom of power, as system within the Madre's ancient streets sprang to life. Motors and generators roaring into motion. Speakers crackling and sparking with music. Around the Madre, atop the mesa, beams of light began to shoot up into the sky, cascading against the golden structure.

Fireworks erupted from the Villa.

The Grand Opening Gala had commenced.

As I stepped away from the control panel, a new sound began to fill the air. A deep, rumbling drone, almost like some form of ghastly siren. I could feel it passing through me in trembling waves. Making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Elijah was right. Time to go.

"See you inside." I said, then turned and bolted back to the ladder. I mantled down through the hatch and gripped the sides of the ladder. Gravity took over, and I slid down far faster than I'd climbed up. Even through the stone and stucco walls of the building, the drone and music carried on. Like the wail of some distant beast. Without hesitation, I ran for the doorway, stepping into the corridor beyond.

Then stepped into a bear trap.

The steel jaws snapped shut on my ankle, and I got a sense of déjà vu as pain shot up my leg.

"Are you kidding me!?" I snapped.

Ignoring the pain in my leg, I knelt down and began trying to pry my leg out of the trap. I knew how, it wouldn't take more than a second. But as I forced my leg out of the trap, a thought occurred to me.

It hadn't been there before.

Right as I stumbled out of the trap, a new sound cut through the droning.

A rasp of breath.

Kicked by adrenaline and fear, I fell back through the doorway. Right as a cosmic knife spear sank into the floor where I'd been standing. Followed immediately by the loping gait of a Ghost Person.

My hands scrambled, pulling my Automatic Rifle around front of me. The weapon's length and weight made tricky, cumbersome.

The Ghost Person lurched to look in my direction. It jerkily pulled the spear from the ground and began loping towards me.

My heart thundered as the siren droned. I scrambled off the floor and backward. My rifle pointed towards the Ghost Person and I squeezed the trigger. The heavy weapon thundered in those close quarters. .308 caliber bullets flew at the Ghost Person. Punching holes into it that erupted into gory wounds on the other side. Each impact landing landed like a sledgehammer, pushing the Ghost person back.

But it did little more.

After five rounds, all I accomplished was wasting ammo and backing myself into a corner.

With stiff motions, the Ghost Person recovered and began rushing towards me.

I waited a moment, let him commit to the motion, then dove to the side. Get him to clear the doorway and give me a better escape route. They slammed into the wall spear-first, and I weaved around them narrowly. Without a moment's hesitation I bolted back across the room and into the hall. I heard them rasp, wrenching their spear out of the masonry. It wasn't hard to picture them being hot on my heels. If I didn't put as much ground between me and them as possible, I wasn't sure how quick it'd be on me.

I burst out of the hallway and onto a veranda overlooking a small plaza. It wasn't a far fall from the veranda to the plaza. If I dropped down, I could cut back to the bunk room and have a straight shot back to the Campanas courtyard.

Which is exactly what I tried to do. I slung my Automatic Rifle around so both of my hands free and mantled over the edge of the veranda. Trying to control my descent, quick as I needed it. Dropping the distance wouldn't kill me, but hitting it wrong would still hurt, and I couldn't afford a messed-up leg.

As I released, and let myself fall, the Ghost Person barreled over the edge. Sailing past me and through the air over the plaza. When I hit the ground, they landed not long after, followed by a sickening crunch of broken bone. I twisted and ran for the bunkroom, hearing the Ghost Person shamble and rasp after me. Unimpeded by little things like broken bones and mangled cartilage. Another spear hissed past my flank and imbedded itself into the opposing wall of the bunk room. Right as I cut a hard left into the room.

Only to find another Ghost Person lying in wait.

It lunged as I rounded the corner.

I swore, and pulled a Police pistol from my hip. Without a second to aim, I fired from the hip, squeezing the double action trigger. Unfortunately I pulled my shot, and the bullet went wide of its target.

The Ghost Person charged in, twisted and sharpened metal over its right fist. A bear trap gauntlet, one of their improvised weapons. As it closed in on me, its left arm shot outward, grasping at me. I sidestepped it, tumbling through one of the many bunks in the room. Its arm missed me as I scrambled over the mattress, and I heard the springs of its gauntlet release. Teeth biting down with a metallic twang.

Clearing the bed, I spun briefly around, and saw it had struck the edge of the mattress, only narrowly missing me.

Its head stiffly jerked up to look at me.

I pointed my police pistol and sent a magnum round through its head.

The Ghost Person's head snapped back with a creak of leather and a crackle of glass. Green viscera exiting the back of its skull.

It slowly rocked back forward, still rasping and alive.

I sailed a second round through its head, then turned and ran. In my periphery, I could see the spear-thrower had loped into the room after me. Even if the second shot had killed the Bear-trap Ghost, I gained nothing from standing my ground. So I made for the hole back to the Campanas courtyard. Bolting back out onto the veranda overlooking that courtyard.

Only to receive a knife spear to the stomach.

As soon as I stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard, a third Ghost Person attacked. Hurling their spear from the courtyard below like a missile. The cosmic knives easily piercing the armor plating at the front of my Assassin Suit. Their tarnished metal slicing against my innards. I could feel them shifting around the dirty material. The only positive was that it lost momentum and didn't run me through completely. It still sunk hilt deep, but stab wounds beat a gaping hole when it came to my long-term life expectancy.

The impact of the spear caused me to break my stride, and I crashed against the ruined railing of the veranda. I fun feeling when I had something metallic leveraged against my guts. The Ghost person below me continued loping through the courtyard, moving towards the passage leading up to me. I loosed a shot at him and pulled the spear out of my gut, letting it fall to the courtyard below. Pushing myself off of the railing, I fished a stimpack out and began moving along the veranda.

Then the Bear-trap Ghost caught up with me. Slammed into me with his loping gait. The teeth of his weapon bit down into my arm as his weight crashed against me.

Then the railing broke. Unable to handle the extra strain.

"FUCK!" I swore.

The two of us fell through the open air of the courtyard, now more than a twenty-foot fall. We landed on paved stone. Me on my shooting arm, from an unfortunate twist in the air.

The Ghost Person landed head first. Their head deforming against the stone and neck cracking to an odd angle. Some kind of yellow and putrescent ooze began to ebb from one a broken goggle in its mask. But I didn't trust for a moment it actually had the good graces to die.

I scrambled to my feet, losing my grip on my Police Pistol. My right arm didn't feel right, didn't respond how I needed it too. I chose to abandon it there, no time to waste trying to make my arm move right. Not when I had more pressing concerns. Like patching the holes in my chest. I stuck my gut with the stimpack and let the medicine do its work. Not clean, but better than leaving the wound unchecked.

I heard the rasping of the Ghost that'd speared me, and ran. Bolting across the courtyard with my right arm flopping erratically against my side. Didn't know how long I could keep ahead for but it didn't matter. If I could make it back to the corridor back out of the Campanas, the path would start to untangle itself.

Just needed to run, before they caught up with me,

The stairs back down from the courtyard descended before me, and I practically leapt off of them. Skipping the first four, I managed to somehow catch myself on the fifth and bound the rest of the way down them. I reached the smaller landing between the Campanas and the catacombs below, and began to run for another hole in the wall. One that lead back to the fountain.

Two steps onto the landing, a darkness leapt up from the catacomb stairs. Ghost People coursing from the depths below.

Two.

Four.

Eight.

Sixteen.

I stopped counting after Two Dozen.

A panicked, half crazed laugh escaped me as I bolted for the wall. Weaving among a decorative set of columns, I passed through the wall with the Ghosts nipping at my heels. Rasping behind me in a coalesced chorus, a metallic buzz of strangled death.

The hole in the wall lead to a small store room, with a set of stairs and a vending machine on one side of it. I grabbed the corner of the vending machine and tilted it onto its side, as I vaulted onto the steps. The heavy machine heaved to the side as I pulled against it, slamming against the opposing wall. Helped bar the stairs, as the Ghost People closed the distance. They crashed against the machine right as I began to climb the stairs, two at a time. I could hear the whine and squeal of metal as they rent and bent it. Putting force against it in ways it'd never meant to be hit.

I reached the top of the stairs, and crossed the small room waiting at the top of them. Another hole in an exterior wall, leading to a narrow alley. Barred slightly by a previously triggered swing-girder trap. It passed beneath me as I leaped through the opening. Coming out onto an eve overlooking the alleyway. The deep drone of the siren still thrumming through the air.

As I mantled down off the eave, I scarcely remembered one of my arms wasn't working and fell. Hitting the pavement, again. When I went to pick myself up, another Ghost Person came stalking out of the shadows. Just as another came bolting over the eve after me.

Soon to be followed by the rest of the dark tide.

Scrambling to my feet, I continued to follow the alley, death close behind and waiting ahead. At the far end I rounded into another hole in the wall, stepped on a Radroach, and kept running. The hole lead through a shop, and out the back into the narrow Villa streets. From there the path split, two routes ahead of me, left and right.

The Ghost People were hot on my heels.

I panicked and ran left.

The path took me to another flight of stairs, leading to a covered street. I began running down them, pulling my Automatic Rifle to bear once more. My right arm still wasn't cooperating, but it was easy enough to lock the weapon to my hip. Accurate fire wasn't going to be an option. Thankfully it didn't need to be.

As I leapt off the bottom of the stairs, another Bear-Trap Ghost lunged from the shadows. Their fist narrowly missing my head.

The barrel of my weapon swung low, and a trio of bullets tore through their knee, muzzle pressed against it. The leg blew apart at the knee and the Ghost Person wrenched forward, grasping at me and only missing by a hair. I didn't bother wasting the ammo to finish it off, Its mobility was nil. My feet slammed against the pavement as I began to run, faster, more hurriedly. Trying to follow the compass of my Pip-boy, while the constant drone of the siren boomed in the background. The corners and curves of the dark and clouded alleys blending into an unforgiving and toxic spiral. I found myself ducking through more corridors, more stores, dashing through more broken walls and past further and further traps. Some of which didn't even seem to have been disarmed or otherwise triggered. Meaning I had not passed them previously.

Before I could even blink, I found myself lost. Even with my compass to point the way, everything looked the same.

My legs carried me up another flight of stairs, and I found myself once more at a crossroads. A path ahead of me, and to my left through another hole in the wall.

There was a rasping chorus waiting to my left.

I ran straight ahead, curved a corner, a threw myself down another flight of stairs.

There was a Ghost Person laying at the bottom. As I careened down the stairs, it went to look up at me from the ground.

My Rifle pointed vaguely in its direction and a quartet of bullets ripped through the air. Two bit the ground around it, a third hit its spine. The fourth split its head, yellow muck pouring from the wound.

It slumped back to the ground and I crashed onto it, clambering to my feet. Harried mind wondering what it was doing on the ground.

Then my eyes caught a better look of it. Of its blown-out knee.

It was the same one. The same one I'd shot before.

I'd gone in a god damn circle.

Furiously, I slung my Rifle around so I could check my Pip-boy. I pulled open the map and quickly poured over it. Sure enough, looking at the local map it was generating, the alleys and streets did form a giant loop. The spot I was looking for would've been closer if I'd gone right instead of left. I'd literally run straight past it and completed the loop. Without hesitating, I turned and began to take the stairs two at a time. Taking the shortest path to get back on track.

Half-way up, there was screech of metal and a thunder of footsteps.

The tide of Ghost People loped around the corner into the top of the stairwell.

Somewhere nearby a generator screamed to life, and I ran for mine. The only route left for me being to make the loop once more. If I fucked up again, I didn't like my prospects for the foreseeable future. All I could do was blindly charge ahead. Heart hammering in my ears, death rasping at my heels.

I crossed the threshold of, running back through a shop-

My foot caught a tripwire.

It hadn't been there before

The tense wire snapped, and beside the hole in the wall was a metallic *ping*. Followed by a high-pitched hiss, and the slow shrill of sheering metal.

I twisted at the shoulders, looking towards the sound. In the corner beside the hole, were a trio of gas bombs. The kind the Ghost People used.

One of their valves had burst, fire flew from the nozzle like a blowtorch. Its whining hiss growing higher and loud at a rate of nano-seconds. I dove away from the cannisters-

They exploded.

The shockwave hit me first, like a dozen runaway Brahmin. It was followed by a thick cloud of black smoke, that quickly erupted into a great ball of vibrant orange flame.

The blast threw me off of my feet, sent me crashing through the air. I smashed through a long-abandoned display case, rolled across the ground, and came to a halt on my side, back to the sales counter. My head spun, ears rang, and my body went numb. The only sensation I could feel, at first was the dull vibrating of my heart. Then my nervous system caught up to the damage and I was wracked with pain.

With a groan, I tried to force my barely responsive body into motion. The Ghosts were coming, they would be on be on me-

They were on me.

The first loped around the corner, into line of sight with the store. Followed by the second, the fourth, all the way to the twelfth.

They bore down on me.

My body refused to move.

With great pain, I pushed myself upright. My automatic rifle swung around as they were halfway across the store. I pulled the trigger, fire and thunder leapt from the muzzle. They charged relentlessly.

I roared.

Darkness fell on me.

…

I jerked awake and nearly fell off my stool, heart hammering in my chest.

The motion sent a stab of pain through me.

"Stay awake moron." I growled "You're not out of the woods-"

The sound of a slamming door echoed through the darkness of the building.

My already palpitating heart skipped a beat, and I struggled off my stool. Running on blind instinct, I moved towards the door. I stepped to the side of it, beside the hinges. When the door swung in, it'd move to cover me. Offering me at least a moment's protection against whoever just kicked-in the front door. A few seconds to try and get the drop on them.

As I moved, I traded my shotgun over to off-hand. No shot at me using it effectively, but it was better than putting it back and needing to draw it again. In its place, I pulled That Gun, double checking that it was loaded. Only to find all of the primers dimpled, and then having to struggle with a one handed reload. Made me feel like even more of a mess than I already was.

After managing to somehow slip fresh rounds into the cylinder, I brought my pistol to a low-ready and waited. Straining my hearing, I could hear someone stomping around on the sales floor. Couldn't tell if that was multiple someone's or not, but there was someone out there.

I waited by the door, pistol ready.

The perpetrator began to approach the back room. Only stopping briefly at the door.

Then it was blasted off its hinges, flying inward as large chunks and splinters of wood. Better than it flying on the hinges and slamming me into the wall, anyway. A moment passed, as whoever was on the other side waited. Clearly examining the area before stepping in.

But, after several cautious seconds, they took several steps into the room.

My arm swung up and pointed That Gun at Yang's golden head.

It took me a second to realize it was Yang. In the intervening time, she heard me move and whipped around to face me, only to find the barrel of my gun in her face. Her lilac eyes went wide, and I got a better look of her in my nightvision.

She looked… like a hot mess. Just like me. Her golden mane was a spikey mess of threads and bed-head. Her face looked a little more sunken than normal, the effect of not being fully awake. She was still wearing her pajamas, an orange tank-top and black shorts. However, she'd pulled her brown jacket over it, and was wearing her boots. I could also make out her gauntlets ringing her arms, already expanded and waiting.

Yang searched the darkness for a moment, trying to figure out what she was looking at. After a moment, she seemed to get an idea and backed away slowly, but making no sudden moves.

"So you actually showed up." I said, lowering my gun.

"… Six?" Yang asked, squinting into the darkness at me.

"The one and only." I answered, holstering my pistol then moving to do the same with my shotgun "Sorry for the scare, I've been having one of those nights."

Yang's posture began to relax, her brow creasing slightly "Oh, so that means you get to-"

I took a few steps towards her. Into the little light that streamed in through the doorway.

Whatever Yang was going to say was cut short. She took out her Scroll, and tapped at it, enabling a small light. She pointed it towards me, and her expression fell. "Oh crap- are you ok?" She asked.

"Been worse." I answered "Did the White Fang find you?"

"Uh- no, I don't think so." She answered "I got here as quick as I could. I'm pretty sure I'd have seen them."

"They're driving around in cars, not too many of those out right now." I said "You pass anyone on the road here."

Yang shook her head. "All quiet."

I nodded. "Good enough."

"Are you ok?" Yang asked again, still looking me over.

"Again, I've been worse." I said, moving back to the front of the store. "C'mon, we need to get out of here before my luck turns again. You still good to drive? My arms ain't feeling right."

"Y-yeah." Yang said, quickly following me out and taking point. She crossed the sales floor ahead of me, quickly, and made for the front door. A part of me wanted to warn her to be more careful. If the Fang were aware of us, throwing caution to the wind now would be a mistake.

But, if the Fang were aware of us, they'd probably have attacked already as well.

I cautiously peered outside the bookstore as I approached the door. The street seemed to still be abandoned, save for Yang's bike, sitting beside the sidewalk in front of the store.

Satisfied that we were relatively undetected, I stepped out and was immediately followed by Yang. The door closed behind her, Yang bounded over to her bike and got it running. I stumped my way after her, still feeling hollowed-out in just about every way.

"How quick can you get us back to Beacon?" I asked, over the idling of the bike.

"You sure you want to go back to school?" Yang asked in turn "I think the hospital might be better idea."

"I can handle it." I said "Just get us back to the dorms."

Yang scowled for a moment, then shrugged, motioning for me to get on. "I can get us back in a half hour. Twenty minutes if I push it."

"Good." I answered, straddling the seat behind her. Though I struggled to move my arms, I managed to loop them around her waist and lock my fingers. "I'll try not make it more difficult… hey, Yang?"

Yang's head twitched slightly as she looked over her shoulder.

"...Thanks."