Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 114: Eye For An Eye

*WARNING*
References of torture and rape. The world is in a bad way right now, and if you're struggling with feelings of anxiety and finding it hard to see a light at the end of the tunnel, reading this chapter might not be the best thing for you right now. Stay strong, look after yourself and your vulnerable loved ones.

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Elder Maxson's cloak rustled and snapped in the winds atop the crater hole over the outpost, a frayed, faded far cry from it's former red glory. Even the Brotherhood of Steel insignia was nothing but a naked sword surrounded by a patchwork of nondescript designs, giving him more the look of a wayward vagabond than the promised prince of a mighty steel clan.

It brought Clay-Crawler to wonder how often the Elder did this-went against the wishes of his command staff and roughed it out on the battlefield with the grunts, risking his life for reasons personal or professional.

It dawned on him in full magnitude the weight riding on his shoulders to keep the man alive. He was well aware that the supreme commander of the Brotherhood was more than capable of handling himself, far more capable than he himself was... probably in any situation imaginable. So why have him tag along? Was it really just for his insight of the land and it's hazards, or for something more important? It felt like a test. Was he being tested? What were the rewards up for grabs? A new weapon, something big and powerful? New armor? Would his cyborg sleeve be fast-tracked to completion? What about a feast of his favorite limbs and organs? The possibilities were endless!

"Movement." Maxson interrupted his wild reverie with a curt glance. He had removed his helmet in order to see more clearly, and the sweep of hair on his head was fluttering in the strong breeze. "Clay, don't just stand there. Take a knee. Before you expose the both of us."

The raider did as he was bid. Below them in the ruins of the camp, figures began to creep out from beneath a concealed manhole, the boulder guarding it having been shoved aside by what appeared to be two blue super mutants. The other figures were human, Red Claw warriors escorting slaves out from the manhole, many of them women and children, though a few men were sprinkled throughout.

"It would seem as though we are looking at the victors of this battle," the Elder muttered, sounding neither pleased nor displeased.

To Clay-Crawler, it was an elating sight. His people had successfully raided one of the most prized Dark Blood outposts in the Bloodlands, one with a storied and mystical history as a former home and haven to his people. They had done what his clan had been dreaming of for many seasons and rescued their slave population, many of which were Red Claws. It was a rare feat worthy of many songs, celebrations, and ritual tortures to honor the gods and demons.

"Let's say hi," he announced in barely contained glee. But Maxson caught him by the chestplate before he could come to a stand, wrenching him hard in his place.

"Curb your excitement and think a moment. It's been how long since you last saw your people?"

The question sounded rhetorical, but Clay-Crawler answered anyway. "Over ten seasons... twelve... no! Eleven..." He bit his lip.

"And you expect them to remember you, or take you on your word that you were once one of them?"

It did give him pause for thought. Back at Camp Lex Talionis, he and D-Con had ventured beyond the walls and run into a hunting band of Red Claws. When they had shunned his claim to heritage and attacked him, it had wounded his heart deeply. Would this be more of the same if he tried to make contact again?