Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 54: Like A Woman Scorned

Kelly was back.

And she was out for blood.

Her stormy trek through the Prydwen's bowels drew unblinking stares from soldiers and Scribes alike, some mumbling in open choler that she had abandoned her post with them, others wearing sympathy for her downtime of recovery; both contrasts a glimpse of that civil war Danse had warned her against sparking.

Such potential power at their fingertips. Such power she wanted to spark; Danse wanted to keep at bay; the Elder gripped by the skin of his teeth. The three of them and their dirty little secret. One wrong move and all of it would collapse around them.

Kelly avoided meeting the eyes following her. She had been so fuelled to reach the end of her warpath that she had almost forgotten her guise as Danse's killer.

She couldn't give a fuck to maintain it.

Let them think she was a cold-hearted assassin with no remorse for her former mentor and friend. There were plenty others aboard that spared no sympathy for the loss of the Paladin. Monsters.

Let them think she was one of them.

She squared her jaw and sharpened her step. Her arrival was the magnet for all eyes wherever she went, but her eyes were fixed ahead, sparing no diversion to meet the gazes of those she once considered brothers and sisters in arms.

Her gaze was meant for one man alone.

"Maxson."

After she bashed her fist against the hatchway to the Elder's quarters, the sentry gave a cautionary glare. "I'm going to have to search you, ma'am."

"Touch me, and you're gonna have a problem firing that gun of yours for the rest of your life." She kept her gaze centred on the steel hatchway.

The Knight stood gawking in disbelief for a moment, maybe trying to pin down any innuendos to her words, but he never got the chance to respond as his Elder's voice broke the moment.

"Let her in." Flat and monotone.

Kelly wasted no time. She pushed open the hatch and marched right in, making sure to slam the hatch in her wake.

And there he was. Elder Maxson stood from his terminal to receive her, his features rigidly set to endure her invasion, but his eyes betrayed his anger. He was just as she remembered him. Cold, dark, carrying his air of authority, grizzled from war, premature beyond his youth, burly and proud within his precious battlecoat, all in a package labelled as big hairy fuckface.

"There you are," Fuckface patronized sternly, letting his disappointment be clear. "You took your sweet time wasting it with that thing, Knight."

He dared. Kelly bristled and coiled like a rattlesnake. She was already striding right at him without preamble.

He deemed her no threat, talking at her as she closed in. Big mistake. "When I had said to take some time for your goodbyes, I wasn't granting you an extended lea-"

The slap that branded his cheek split his words, and the air.

Silence followed.