Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 21: Raiding The Raiders

"Time to raid the raiders, and save the ghouls."

Kelly's gaze was drawn to Deacon as he stood with hands planted on hips, road leathers reinforced with even more leather, shadowed like hers and matted to meld with the darkness. With the shades and wig, he looked like some sort of leather-clad secret agent from those comic books. "You're sounding keen for someone who likes 'long lazy dull days,'" she quipped.

"Hey, I'm a keen-bean when it comes to popping raiders. Just as long as I get to shoot from the shadows, or from behind a very, very thick wall."

Tightening the buckles of the leather padding around her shins and thighs, then checking her shoulder-guards, Kelly chugged the remainder of the water from a bottle and stood, flexing sore shoulders. "You better hope we don't run into any of the Dark Bloods down there, then. They'll chase you from your cover the moment they smell your blood."

Deacon swallowed his lower lip and created a suctioning noise. "Looking forward to meeting those guys..."

Kelly only tilted him a knowing look. She wasn't looking forward to meeting them again, either. They haunted her waking hours just as much as her nightmares. "Everyone ready?" She was rewarded with acknowledgements from the small squad she had chosen for the mop-up—mainly the heavy hitters. Deacon, who refused to let her go down there without him, Clay-Crawler, Hancock, Cait, Strong, MacCready, who had practically begged due to his love of caves from his childhood, Dogmeat, and Danse, who stomped up on her side.

"Locked and loaded," he confirmed with a hard, encouraging nod. She noticed he wasn't donning his helmet. Possibly due to the low-light levels underground, and the fact that he could blind his allies with his helmet torch in a single glance.

Kelly returned his nod, then surveyed her team as they stood near the mine entrance. "Where's Clay?"

They found him stooped near the giant death-cage that had been constructed over a fire-pit. A raider corpse lay beneath him, it's limbs dismembered and mutilated.

Oh, fuck. Please don't be eating that.

While the others hung back, Kelly approached him with tentative steps, peering over his armor's shoulder. His helmet was on, so he couldn't be eating anything. "Clay?"

The raider turned. The claw symbols and other odd markings he had carved into his armor were now painted in blood, darkened with several layers, crusting in dried places and dripping wet in others. In his hand was a dismembered finger, which he must have been using as a paintbrush.

"Blood of enemies gives power," he explained, voice so rich with purpose that it gave Kelly goose flesh. He finished one last marking by dipping the bloodied end of the finger into the corpse's open wound for hot, fresh blood, and then ran it through the marking to stain it. He stood to present himself to her. "Whisper like?"

Kelly regarded him in full detail. It honestly didn't disturb her as much as she thought it would, and it actually looked kind of badass, in a savage, bloodthirsty way. The Wastes had desensitized her to a lot of things, lately. "Whisper likes," she approved with surprise in herself.

The raider seemed to beam within his armor and stood up straighter, and she couldn't see his face, but she felt sure that he was giving her one of his creepy-as-fuck smiles. He offered up the severed finger, and she raised her brows at it, not sure what he wanted. Before she could stop him, he moved it toward her face and dashed twice beneath her eyes and up across her cheekbones, like warpaint stripes. Kelly stood prone afterward, taking stock of what he had just done to her. The blood was still warm, it's sticky wetness clinging to her skin and making her detest the idea of even moving her face in the discomfort. Blood had splattered her face many times in battle, but to have it deliberated pasted on was a new experience.