Tearing a strip off her jacket, Piper hastily bandages her thigh before slamming a Stimpak into her leg. The bandage is already soaked with blood and barely holding together, but Piper's too busy looking for anything to barricade the door with.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Piper frantically thought as she heard the whoops and cries of bandits beyond the rusted metal door. She knew - just knew - that this scoop wouldn't be worth the danger, but she fucking went anyways. Nice fucking work, Piper.
Spotting a small, rotted bookcase, Piper pulled herself off the ground using a window ledge and began moving to it, but stopped before taking a step.
The bandits.
She couldn't hear their cheering. The sound of their psychopathic desires.
Instead, she heard their screams. Voices of paranoia shouting for information. Voices of confusion quivering in the unknown.
Voices of sheer terror.
Fearfully curious of what would make a bandit scared shitless, Piper cracked the door open just in time to see the bandit leader have their throat ripped out by an unknown assailant. With their bare hands, no less. The leader collapsed on the ground, still clutching his throat in desperation.
H-holy shit. Piper thought, taken aback by the horrific scene before her. It's a synth!
Piper slowly backed away from the door before stupidly kicking the empty Stimpak on the ground. The assailant cocked their head towards the sound like a hawk before vanishing from sight. Before Piper could even begin to think about where they went, they reappeared in front of her and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground.
"How pitiful, a bandit who thinks they can run," they croaked, their voice scratchy like sandpaper.
"W-wait," Piper coughed, struggling to breathe under their iron grip, much less speak. "I. Not. Bandit!"
The assailant narrowed their eyes before looking Piper up and down, stopping their gaze at the (barely) bandaged wound. They loosen their grip slightly, but remain fixed on the wound, asking "Did you bandage this?"
"You see anyone else here?" Probably not the best thing to say to your potential murderer, but if she was going to die, she might as well be an asshole about it.
Seeming to understand the situation (or just feeling pitiful, Piper thought), they dropped Piper onto the ground, watching vigilantly as she hacked and gasped for air. Kneeling beside her, they placed their hand on Piper's hip and began examining her injured leg.
After composing herself again, Piper takes a moment to take in the appearance of her savior/possible killer. It's a woman, judging by their face and slender form. Her skin, dark brown like mahogany, was complimented by her slitted silver eyes, which seemed to glow in the dim room. She'd almost be perfect if it weren't for the blackened rock fragments that formed along her skin. It looked as if it had formed with her skin instead of being debris or shrapnel that got stuck. The same rock fragments were scattered around her body, from what Piper could see, and formed pseudo-claws around her fingers.
Her clothes were peculiar in that they didn't look like typical bandit clothing. She wore a black camouflage shirt with long sleeves, similar to the pre-war clothes that some ghoul veterans wore. The pants were made from the same material with a utility belt around her waist that carried a holster for two guns and a satchel.
Before Piper could spend more time ogling, the woman pulled her hand off Piper's hip and raised it. The pseudo-claws, which had just looked like rock fingernails, extended to become actual-claws, which she promptly used to tear off her overshirt, revealing a black tank top underneath.
"What the hell are you..." Piper barely manages to yelp before taking in the woman's... "assets". That, and immense pain and pressure from her thigh.
"Treating your wound," she stated matter-of-factly, not even bothering to glance up at Piper. "I will escort you to Diamond City once I am finished."
"Yeah, sure, great," Piper cringed, displeased at the level of empathy, or lack thereof, being given into bandaging her thigh. "Quick question, though, how do you know where I live?!"
Giving the bandage one final tightening, she turned to face Piper and squinted her eyes, almost to say It isn't obvious?
"Right, of course, the outfit." She really needed to wear less conspicuous clothes outside.
"So there is something up there. Anyways, do I need'ta carry you or can you walk?"
Unsure of how to answer, Piper attempted to stand on her own (with the help of a nearby desk) and immediately fell on her ass. Amused by Piper's complete failure, she picked up Piper by the back of her collar and helped her lean onto the wall before squatting down, arms stretched slightly behind her.
"Y'know, you could just give me a shoulder to lean on instead of this," Piper remarked.
"Sure, we can do that if you wanna get caught in the dark by super mutants," she barked. "Either hop on or I carry you like a sack of potatoes."
Begrudgingly, Piper muttered "at least take me to dinner" before limping herself onto the woman's back.
YOU ARE READING
Memory of Black Mold, Heart of Broken Glass
Aksi"How pitiful, a bandit who thinks they can run," they utter, their voice scratchy like sandpaper. or An unfortunate encounter between a mercenary and a journalist and their journey together.
