ã€ŠChange, a Fallout Sagaã€‹


 01 - Laser Pistol

    "No sevens, go fish."

    Altan let out a sigh, drawing a card from the haphazard pile in the middle of the table. It was an eight. "Y''know," he grumbled, adding it to his hand, "I can see your cards, you little shit."

    The young girl across from him smirked, pulling her cards close to her chest. "I don''t know what you''re talking about. And even if I did, that''d make you a big, stupid cheater." She peered at her cards, "Got any eights?"

    Altan tossed his hand down in exasperation and stood. "I yield. C''mon, let''s grab something to eat. We¡¯ve got a long day ahead."

    Delilah stiffened, and she set her cards down, her wide eyes tracking the Chinese assault rifle Altan was securing to himself with a three-point sling. She straightened her shoulders, trying to look more confident, but her small fingers tightened on the edge of the table, betraying her unease as her mind raced. "Are you going out again today?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, sounding far smaller than she intended.

    Altan nodded, then paused before replying, "Yeah. You''re coming with. I need your help with the Super Duper Mart."

    Delilah hesitated, the cards she had gathered falling to the table. "The place where you fought those raiders?"

    Altan glanced at her, his gaze softening for a moment longer than usual. "Yeah, though if you were asking me out of context, it''s crazy how little that narrows down the places I''ve been lately." He paused, turning his attention to some mechanical bit of his rifle, his fingers moving with practiced ease. "Anyway, I need your help with some locks and a few small bits I can''t quite reach. You up for it?"

    Delilah nodded, quickly gathering the cards she¡¯d been bullying Altan with. They trembled just slightly. It was fine. Really. Altan just wanted to take her¡ªhis little sister¡ªout into the dangerous, unpredictable wasteland. The same wasteland that had been returning him to her, bruised and bloodied, day after day. Wild animals, crazed people, and her father were out there too. No telling how wild he was. Altan had been heading out there daily since they fled Vault 101, and she knew well enough he was wild. Delilah tucked the cards into their case and stashed it in her belt pouch, alongside the handful of caps she''d managed to get out of Altan. It was fine. Really. "Okay. Does that mean we can have a big breakfast?"

    Altan shrugged, slinging his rucksack over his head and onto his back. "Sure thing, Lily. Anything you want." He paused. "Within reason. You''re not having crisps for breakfast again." Delilah averted her eyes, and Altan chuckled.

    She followed Altan as he headed out of Megaton''s common house, making their way down into the crater that formed the heart of the town. The Church of Atom cultists were at it again, standing in the radioactive puddle beneath the towering nuclear bomb the town was built around. The cultists were kind of fun to mess with. She¡¯d almost gotten herself in trouble the other day when she lectured them on physics and the reality of the atoms they worshipped. It was all fun and games until a few of the cultists started questioning their faith, and Confessor Cromwell got *really* mad at her.

    Of course, Altan had been nearby, and a stern look¡ªand some sterner words, some of which she wasn¡¯t allowed to repeat¡ªhad gotten her off the hook with a simple apology. It probably didn¡¯t hurt that Altan had just returned from his daily excursion: filthy, bloodied, kitted out in body armor and armed with that frightening assault rifle of his.

    Delilah giggled to herself as she passed the group of cultists, catching the wide-eyed double take of one. She waved at him, then darted past Altan and ran ahead to claim a seat inside the Brass Lantern. Leo Stahl, the eldest of the Stahl trio, gave her a nod as she stepped into the restaurant.

    "Well, good morning, little miss! Are you here by yourself, or is that big brother of yours joining us today?"

    Delilah slid into a booth, choosing the seat facing away from the door. Altan always preferred to sit where he could see the entrance. He was weird like that. "Yes, sir, and he said we¡¯re gonna have a big breakfast too!"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    "Is that so? Well, in that case, allow me to fetch a pair of menus." Leo disappeared into the back just as Altan entered. He briefly scanned the room, then squeezed into the booth across from Delilah when he spotted her.

    "Morning, Leo. You got any fruit juice today?"

    Leo poked his head out from the kitchen. "We¡¯ve got a little left, fresh-squeezed mutfruit. Want me to bring a couple glasses for you two?"

    Altan nodded. "Appreciate it." He leaned back in the booth, looking at Delilah. "Lily, listen up. I know you¡¯re not thrilled about coming along today, but it¡¯s important. I¡¯ll need your help with some locks and scavenging work in tight spaces. Plus, there¡¯s something I want you to have."

    Delilah raised an eyebrow. "Something else, huh? If it¡¯s another gross stale snack cake, I¡¯m not eating it."

    Altan pulled a squarish gray device encased in brown canvas out of his bag, setting it on the table. "No dubious snacks this time. This is called a Stealth Boy. This little gadget can make you nearly invisible for a short time, like heat waves off of asphalt." He flipped the canvas cover off the top of the device, revealing several switches, dials and a thin cord running down the side. "You press this button to toggle it on and off." He tapped a recessed switch on the device. "You get about thirty seconds of invisibility out of one before it has to recharge, so you need to use it wisely¡ªonly if things get really bad. And don¡¯t use it unless you¡¯re ready to stay quiet. If you start running or talking, people can still figure out where you are."

    Delilah picked up the Stealth Boy, examining it with wide eyes. "Whoa. This is¡­ actually pretty cool. It really works?"

    Altan nodded. "It does, but it¡¯s not perfect. It¡¯s meant to keep you safe if we get into trouble, so keep it on your belt and within reach at all times. You¡¯ll stay close to me, but if something happens, I need to know you can take care of yourself. Which brings me to this."

    He reached into his bag again, this time pulling out a laser pistol in a makeshift holster, and a small bundle of energy cells. Delilah¡¯s eyes widened even further, but she frowned as Altan set the weapon in front of her.

    "Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, leaning back. "You¡¯re giving me a gun? I thought you said I wasn¡¯t ready for this."

    "You weren¡¯t," Altan replied seriously, "but now you are¡ªor at least, you have to be. This thing isn¡¯t a toy, Delilah. A single shot can burn a hole clean through a person, or worse. You never point it at anything you don¡¯t intend to destroy. You got that?"

    Delilah nodded slowly, her nervousness barely concealed by her usual bravado. "Yeah, I got it. Don¡¯t shoot anything unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary. Got it."

    "Good. Now, watch closely." Altan picked up the pistol and an energy cell, carefully showing her how to load it. "You slide the cell into this port until it clicks, then press it shut. To unload, push this release in, and the cell will pop out. Always check to make sure it¡¯s empty before you put it away, got it?"

    He passed the pistol to Delilah, who took it with hesitant hands. "Your turn. Load it."

    She fumbled slightly but managed to slide the cell into place. Altan nodded. "Good. Now unload it."

    Delilah pressed the release, and the cell dropped into her palm. She exhaled, looking up at him. "Okay, not too bad."

    Altan smiled faintly. "Not bad at all. Now for the safety. See this switch? Up means it¡¯s safe; down means it¡¯s ready to fire. Always double-check that it¡¯s on safe when you¡¯re not using it. Go ahead, try it."

    Delilah toggled the safety a few times, then held the pistol up. "Okay. Load, unload, safety. I think I¡¯ve got it."

    Altan gave her a long look. "Now practice. Do it five more times. I need to be sure you won¡¯t freeze up out there."

    She rolled her eyes but did as he said, repeating the process under his watchful gaze. When she finished, she set the pistol down and looked up at him. "Satisfied, big brother?"

    "Almost." He leaned forward, his expression serious. "Remember the four rules. One: Treat every gun like it¡¯s loaded. Two: Never point it at anything you don¡¯t want to destroy. Three: Keep your finger off the trigger until you¡¯re ready to shoot. And four: Always be sure of your target and what¡¯s beyond it. That last one¡¯s especially important with this pistol¡ªit¡¯ll go right through a raider and hit whatever¡¯s behind them. You also need to be aware of any reflective surfaces. A shot from this will probably just melt any mirror or shiny bit of metal it hits, but you can never be too cautious."

    Delilah swallowed hard, staring at the pistol. "Okay. I think I¡¯ve got it." She glanced up at him, her usual smirk creeping back. "But if I accidentally shoot my foot, it¡¯s totally your fault."

    Altan snorted, shaking his head. "That¡¯s not going to happen. You¡¯ll do fine. Just stay close to me, and we¡¯ll be in and out of the Super Duper Mart before you know it."

    Leo returned with their drinks and menus, giving the pair a curious glance but saying nothing. Altan leaned back again, taking a sip of his juice. "Now, let¡¯s order. We¡¯ve got a lot to do today, and probably not enough time to do it."

    Delilah tucked the pistol and Stealth Boy into her bag, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. She plastered on a grin, though, refusing to let Altan¡ªor anyone else¡ªsee how scared she really was. "Fine. But if you try to eat my bacon again, I¡¯m stabbing you with a fork."

    Altan chuckled. "Deal."

    It was fine. Really. Just a quiet day with her big brother, in the horrible, terrifying wasteland. What could possibly go wrong?

 02 - Walk and Talk

    Delilah stood silently as Altan negotiated with the trader hanging around just outside of Megaton, a scrawny man who called himself ¡°Doc Hoff.¡± The pair had struck up a back-and-forth over the trader¡¯s goods, and Delilah found herself lost in the calm interaction. The trader¡¯s pack Brahmin caught her attention, though. She couldn''t help but smile at the two-headed bovine, its broad, dumb eyes slowly drifting in her direction. Delilah extended her hand, offering it a slow, cautious sniff. The Brahmin¡¯s warm, moist nostrils flared as it investigated, its tongue flicking out suddenly to slap across her palm. Delilah recoiled with a sharp little shriek, half-laughing as the Brahmin''s other head chewed on a tuft of grass, oblivious.

    ¡°You having fun?¡± Altan¡¯s voice cut through the moment, and Delilah blinked, finding herself back in the present.

    She nodded quickly, wiping the wetness from her hand on the rag tied to her belt. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good.¡±

    ¡°You know,¡± she said, casting a side-glance at the Brahmin, ¡°do you think Brahmin can think twice as much, since they¡¯ve got two heads?¡±

    Altan arched an eyebrow, giving a lazy shrug that made the grenades and magazines hanging off his vest jingle. ¡°Maybe. Or it might mean it¡¯s twice as dumb.¡±

    Delilah¡¯s lips twisted into a small frown, but before she could respond, she swatted his arm. ¡°Be nice. How would you feel if you were a nice two-headed cow, and some humongous jerk called you dumb?¡±

    Altan thought for a moment, tapping his chin. ¡°That¡¯s a good point. But, if I had to venture a guess?¡± He grinned. ¡°Tasty. I¡¯d definitely feel tasty.¡±

    Delilah rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t suppress a laugh. She turned to wave a final goodbye to the Brahmin as they moved on.

    ¡°Here,¡± Altan said, pulling out a small canvas case and tossing it to her. ¡°Extra meds. I got a stim and radiation meds for each of us. Keep them handy, but don¡¯t flaunt them. You don¡¯t want any unsavory types sniffing out what you¡¯ve got. Trust me.¡±

    Delilah nodded, tucking the chems into the fanny pack around her waist. She knew Altan was right. The wasteland didn¡¯t forgive carelessness. They passed through Springvale quietly, the remains of the old town a silent, ghostly testament to what the world had once been. Rusted cars sat half-buried in the dirt, and the weathered frames of houses swayed, sagging under the burden of time. Despite the desolation, the unease that came with it was palpable. Altan was constantly scanning the area, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, his finger hovering near the trigger of his assault rifle. Delilah, for her part, stayed close, her footsteps quick but light, almost silent as they walked together.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s take five,¡± Altan said, pointing to a wooden bench sheltered by the skeletal remains of a carport. The shade there was a welcome relief, even though it was late morning.

    Delilah slid up onto the bench beside him, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. She had to admit, despite his gruff demeanor and his irritating need to always be "in control," Altan looked pretty damn cool, like a character out of an issue of Astoundingly Awesome Tales. He had long since abandoned his Vault 101 suit, opting instead for military fatigues and a battered combat vest that seemed to have survived countless firefights before ending up in his hands. Over it all, he wore a faded earth-toned duster, hanging to just above his knees. His "molly", as he called it¡ªa series of pouches and compartments slung across his chest¡ªwas loaded with extra ammunition, grenades, and other assorted necessities, all jostling slightly with every movement he made. Around his neck, he wore a sand-colored shemagh, the fabric blending with his gear, with military-style goggles hanging loosely at the top. His helmet was just as unassuming, an earth-tone shade like his armor, with a mount for his night vision goggles¡ªwhat he called ¡°nods.¡± These were always tucked away when they weren¡¯t in use, but Delilah knew they would give him an edge in the dark.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    His boots, heavy and scuffed, looked like they had walked through every corner of the Wasteland and back, and his long coat fluttered like the edge of a flag¡ªmarking him, no doubt, as someone dangerous.

    Her own gear felt more provisional. A floppy boonie hat shaded her eyes, and like her brother, she wore a scarf and a pair of goggles Moira had gifted her. A lightweight plate carrier was strapped over her armored Vault suit¡ªan odd mix of fabric, ceramic and metal that Altan had insisted she wear for protection. A handful of energy cells for her laser pistol lined a bandolier sling across her chest, and the worn leather of her gloves creaked slightly as she adjusted the fit of her belt. She was still getting used to the weight of it all, especially compared to Altan¡¯s heavy rig. She had a rucksack, too, holding water, food, and other essentials, though it barely felt half as heavy as the one he carried. His presence felt larger, even when they walked side by side, like he was some hulking force in a world full of dust and ruin. And her? She was just¡­ small. Delilah looked down at herself and felt a little pang of inadequacy.

    Altan''s gaze softened as he noticed the shift in her mood. He leaned closer, his voice quiet and steady. "Lily, you alright? Here, drink some water."

    Delilah snapped to attention, blinking at the canteen in his hand before taking it from him. She took a long sip, feeling the cool water soothe the dry, uncomfortable feeling in her throat. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just... thinking.¡±

    ¡°I could see the smoke,¡± Altan said, grinning lightly as Delilah smacked his arm. ¡°But seriously, are you good? If you¡¯re having second thoughts, I can take you back. I¡¯ll handle this on my own. I could use your help on some of the locks, but...¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Delilah interrupted, too quickly, as if she could convince herself by force of will. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m just... thinking. You¡¯re always going out, and coming back safe, so I know it¡¯s safe. Even if you¡¯re always coming back hurt¡­¡± She shrugged, trying to ignore the little quiver in her hands. ¡°It¡¯ll be safe.¡±

    Altan raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of quiet understanding. He pulled her into a brief half-hug, one hand resting comfortably on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m always coming back a little hurt because I¡¯m actively seeking out trouble. It¡¯s never anything a stimpack can¡¯t fix. But today? Today, we¡¯re gonna avoid trouble. We get in, grab what we need, and head back to Megaton.¡±

    Delilah smiled softly, her anxiety quieting just a little at the certainty in his voice. ¡°And if it takes longer?¡±

    ¡°Then we hole up in a bungalow along the way. It¡¯s secure. Nice little hideaway. Hunters and foragers use it to stay the night when they¡¯re on their routes.¡±

    The mention of the bungalow lifted her spirits. ¡°Who uses it? You said hunters?¡±

    ¡°Mostly. A few scavengers, sure. But it¡¯s mostly the folks who work the mirelurk nests nearby. The nests can get out of hand sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Mirelurks?¡± Delilah asked, sitting up a little straighter. ¡°Are there mirelurks nearby?¡±

    Altan nodded gravely. ¡°Yeah, a few miles off. You remember those first couple of days after we left the Vault? I came back all muddy and smelly?¡± Delilah nodded. ¡°Yeah, I was giving the ¡®lurk tenders a hand.¡± He shuddered, ¡°That was a fun time. They¡¯re not just big. They¡¯re tough, and their pincers? They¡¯ll clip right through your leg. Or so I¡¯ve heard,¡± he added, eyeing her weapon. ¡°Your pistol could probably crack the shell on one in a few shots, but I wouldn¡¯t wait around to find out. If you see one, run and try to get to higher ground. They suck at climbing anything that requires hands.¡±

    Delilah swallowed hard, her fingers tightening slightly around the canteen in her lap.

    Altan clapped her on the back, pulling her out of her thoughts. ¡°But we don''t have to worry about that, as long as we stick to the route I picked. Mirelurks are incredibly territorial, and while that makes dealing with them very dangerous, it also means they generally don''t wander much unless they start getting overpopulated. Hence the mirelurk tenders.¡± He paused, shooting her a wry grin. ¡°It¡¯s a very important job, if you think about it. They''re feeding friendly folks'' while keeping curmudgeonly critters confined.¡±

    Delilah blinked, her apprehension forgotten as she stared at Altan. ¡°Alliteration? Really?¡±

    Altan nodded, unfazed. ¡°In this economy? Wild, right? Anyway, let¡¯s move. I did the math-¡± He sighed at her skeptical look, and stood. ¡°No, really. I did the math. After this haul, we¡¯ll have enough caps to get out of here and head to Rivet City. We¡¯ll track down Dad.¡±

    Delilah nodded, falling into step behind him once more. She felt a little steadier now, like she was more a part of this dangerous world and less an afterthought.

 03 - Super Duper Sale

    Altan nodded, his thoughts drifting as Delilah chattered next to him. "¡ªand that''s why molerats haven¡¯t invaded Megaton," she finished, a proud look on her face.

    He glanced down at her, feeling a quiet pride of his own. She was holding up well on this journey. The hours since leaving Megaton had calmed her nerves, and her easy banter was a welcome sign of progress. Altan had taken extra care with their route, ensuring they avoided the worst parts of the Wasteland and the bodies he¡¯d left behind during his patrols. The calm quiet was a bit eerie, to be honest, but he pushed that thought away. He didn¡¯t have time for jitters, especially with Delilah along for the ride.

    "Altan?" Delilah¡¯s voice pulled him back to the moment, her face upturned, eyes full of concern.

    "It¡¯s nothing," he muttered, giving her a reassuring smile. "We¡¯re almost there."

    She looked up at the Super Duper Mart, then back at him, her face suddenly serious. "Was it scary? When you first went in there?"

    Altan hesitated for a moment, his gaze distant as he thought through his words. "Yeah. Terrifying, even. But, they''re just¡­ people, like you and me," he said slowly, his voice steady but filled with something close to regret. He didn''t want to overwhelm her, not with all the ugly truths of this world. "Not in the same way you and I are people¡ªno families or dreams or morals like we have¡ªbut they¡¯re flesh and blood. They might be jacked up on chems and have their wires crossed like a ball of yarn, but-"

    He paused, his fingers tightening around his rifle. There was a lot more he could say, but he stopped himself. He didn¡¯t add that they died the same, the same way they bled¡ªpainfully, messily, often with the same lack of dignity. That part wasn¡¯t for her to know yet. Not right now. Not when she was just starting to see the Wasteland for what it truly was.

    Instead, he met her eyes. "But in the end, we¡¯re all just trying to survive. Just gotta remember that."

    Delilah nodded, her face pensive. Altan hoped that it wouldn''t come to that. She deserved a chance to stay innocent a little longer.

    As they neared the Mart, voices filtered through the cracked windows of the store, and Altan''s rifle snapped up. Delilah, wise enough to stay quiet, pressed close to him. Altan peeked around the corner, eyes scanning the scene inside: two scavengers, a man and a boy, picking apart a cash register in the dim light of a lantern.

    He motioned for Delilah to crouch, then pointed to the far corner of the entrance. She nodded, pulling out her laser pistol and hurrying into position. Altan flicked the safety off his rifle and stepped inside, his voice booming with authority.

    "This is my claim. You''re intruding. I suggest you leave, now."

    The scavengers froze, the cash register slipping from the man''s hands, its parts scattering across the floor with a loud clatter.

    "Hold up, man. This place was empty when we got here," the older scavenger protested, his hands raised. "Looks like it¡¯s been worked over already."

    Altan¡¯s rifle stayed trained on him. "It looks like that because I¡¯ve been working it since I cleared the raiders out a few days ago. There''s nothing in here worth dying for." He gave the man a long, hard look. "Don¡¯t make me shoot you in front of your kid."

    Before the scavenger could respond, Delilah¡¯s voice cut through the tension.

    "Altan."

    He glanced back, rifle still raised, his finger just off the trigger. "Lily?"

    She stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just sell him your claim?¡±

    Altan paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before the words sank in. He blinked, mentally chastising himself. Selling the claim¡ªwhy hadn¡¯t he thought of that?

    ¡°Sell it?¡± His frown deepened as his mind caught up. ¡°I¡­ I''ll admit, the idea never crossed my mind.¡±

    Delilah didn''t flinch. ¡°It¡¯s rare, but it happens. Moira told me about it. Some folks try to sell when it isn''t worth fighting over. The idea is everyone walks away with some caps, one way or another, and no one loses out.¡±

    Altan shifted uncomfortably, the idea gnawing at him. He¡¯d spent the last ten days fighting tooth and nail for what he had, but now, with her suggestion, it seemed so obvious.

    Delilah waved a hand, glancing between him and the scavengers. "We came here to make some caps so we can head to Rivet City," she said. Then, shooting a quick, nervous glance at the scavengers, she added, "Do you two have any caps? Not that we¡¯re trying to rob you, but I figure we could all walk away happy¡­ or at least not dead?"Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The older scavenger gave a reluctant shrug. "I ain''t got much on me, but I¡¯ve got barter goods. And I¡¯d rather not get shot today."

    Altan hesitated, the tension still thick in the air. Then, slowly, he lowered his rifle just enough to signal the standoff was over. "Alright. Meds, ten mil, five-five-six, and energy cells, if you have them. Caps, otherwise. In return, I¡¯ll show you the spots I haven¡¯t had time to hit yet."

    Delilah¡¯s eyes lit up, and she couldn¡¯t help but smile, even as her hands shook. She''d narrowly avoided possibly having to watch Altan shoot someone, and that was a win in her book. The tension that had gripped her chest loosened, though the adrenaline still buzzed in her veins. Altan had moved closer to the older scavenger, so she stepped out from behind the corner, the sound of her boots on the cracked tiles barely registering as she moved into the open.

    "Hi," she waved at the boy, who was nervously watching the exchange. "I¡¯m Delilah. That¡¯s my big brother, Altan. Sorry about, uh," she mimed aiming a rifle at him, "the whole ¡®threatening to shoot you¡¯ thing. No hard feelings?"

    The boy smiled awkwardly. "No hard feelings. I¡¯m Bryan. And I¡¯m not even really with that guy. I was just trying to get him to help me. He promised, but then I had to help him loot the place."

    Delilah tilted her head, curious. "What do you need help with?"

    Bryan fidgeted, glancing at his shoes. "Well, I got run out of my home by these big monsters."

    Delilah gasped. "Monsters? What kind of monsters?"

    Bryan¡¯s arms shot out, wide in imitation of the creatures. "Huge! And they breathe fire! Pa called ¡®em fuckin'' ants, but he said they were the dumbest fuckin'' ants he¡¯d ever seen."

    Delilah froze, her eyes wide. "Ants that breathe fire?" She hesitated for a moment before covering his mouth with her hands. "Bryan! You can¡¯t say that word! What would your dad think?!"

    Bryan jerked his head back, pulling her hands off his face. "My dad¡¯s dead. The ants got him."

    The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Delilah went quiet, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I... I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean it like that."

    Bryan crossed his arms, letting out a short, frustrated sigh before he softened. "It¡¯s alright. You didn¡¯t know."

    Delilah glanced over at Altan, who was pocketing a few bottles and boxes of ammo, then back to Bryan, biting her lip. "We could probably help you, Bryan. I have a laser pistol, and Altan has his rifle. I''m pretty sure he''s good at shooting. I''ll ask him when he''s done with that scavenger.¡±

    Altan''s voice cut in unexpectedly. "Ask me what?"

    Delilah jumped slightly, turning to him with wide eyes. "Oh, um, Bryan needs help with giant ants. They ran him out of his home, and he says they also breathe fire."

    Altan stared at her for a moment, then glanced at Bryan, sizing him up. "Giant ants? Alright, kid. Can''t be worse than raiders. We¡¯ve got a free afternoon, so I¡¯m in if you are, Lily."

    Delilah smiled brightly, relief flooding her. "We can help!"

    Altan knelt down, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "You did good back there, Lily. Real good. I¡¯m proud of you, and I know that Dad would be as well."

    Delilah squirmed a little under the attention, her small frame tense against Altan¡¯s solid form. But as he wrapped his arms around her in a firm, protective hug, a steady warmth bloomed in her chest¡ªfamiliar, reassuring, and fleeting. Altan didn¡¯t give out hugs often, and at thirteen, she felt too old to ask for them, so she cherished every one she got.

    Despite herself, she hesitated, her uncertainty lingering, but then she let herself lean into the embrace. It didn¡¯t last long¡ªjust enough for her to feel the care behind it¡ªbefore Altan gently stepped back, his faint smile softening his sharp features. ¡°Alright, Lily,¡± he said, his voice quieter than usual. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving. We¡¯ve still got a long way to go.¡±

    She nodded, brushing her hands against her sides to steady herself, and fell into step behind him as he walked out. Bryan lingered for a moment, glancing between them, then hurried to catch up, falling in line behind her.

    "Hey, kid. You hungry?" Altan asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Bryan, who had fallen a little behind.

    Bryan hesitated for a moment, glancing between Altan and Delilah before giving a small nod. "A little, I guess." His stomach chose that very moment to grumble loudly. "Maybe a lot."

    Altan chuckled. "Alright then. We¡¯ll grab a quick bite. No need to rush this."

    Delilah fell into step beside Altan as they headed for a small, crumbling bus stop at the edge of the parking lot. The metal frame of the shelter had seen better days¡ªmost of it was rusted through, but it offered shade and a little respite from the harsh sun. Altan shrugged out of his rucksack with a satisfied grunt and dropped it on the ground. After pulling out a few hardtack crackers and a can of food from a pouch on the side, he gestured for the kids to sit on the rucksack.

    "Take a load off," he said, tossing the can of stew toward Bryan, and handing a cracker to his sister. "We can eat while we talk."

    Bryan caught the can, looking a little unsure of how to open it, but Delilah quickly pulled out her knife and handed it to him with a small smile. He gave her a grateful look before using it to pry the can open.

    Altan leaned against the metal wall of the bus stop shelter, breaking his cracker into pieces and popping them into his mouth one by one. "So, kid," he said to Bryan, his tone casual but attentive. "You mentioned ants, right? Where''d you run into them?"

    Bryan paused, taking a small bite of his food before answering. "A little south, by the highway. They¡¯ve been coming up out of the ground, mostly at night. They look like ants, but... they¡¯re huge, and they spit fire."

    Altan¡¯s brow furrowed. "Fire-spitting ants? That¡¯s new. Could be some kind of mutation from the radiation or something else." He glanced toward the horizon, thinking. "We¡¯ll need to be careful, but if they¡¯re that close, we can handle it."

    Delilah chewed on her cracker, listening closely. It felt strange, sitting here with these two, but at the same time, it felt oddly comforting. After all the uncertainty she''d been through, this was beginning to feel like something more solid. Like maybe she wasn¡¯t just a tag-along after all.

    "Alright, kids," Altan said, standing up and brushing the dust off his pants. "Let¡¯s finish up and hit the road. We¡¯ve got a bit of work ahead of us."

    Bryan and Delilah gathered their things, and together, the three of them moved off toward the highway.

 04 - Those!

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna avoid trouble,¡± Altan grumbled to himself, his rifle barking twice as he dropped another ant. ¡°In and out, he says.¡±

    He paused to reload, yanking the magazine from his rifle and thumbing in a few fresh rounds, a trick he''d picked up from a mercenary he''d met just days ago. Ear protection had been another gem of advice. He''d made sure to follow it, though even with earplugs, muffs, and a suppressor screwed on, his ears still rang. He¡¯d likely be dealing with tinnitus for the rest of the day¡ªthe tight spaces of the metro only amplified every shot.

    ¡°If I get out of this, I¡¯m buying myself a fucking laser rifle,¡± he muttered, slamming the magazine back in with a tap to seat it. He sighed, continuing his trek through the Marigold Metro. The place felt like a tomb, the air thick with the stale scent of decay and rot, undercut with the sharp tang of chemicals. It was as though the very walls were holding their breath. Every sound¡ªevery scuffle of claws or creak of distant metal¡ªechoed like the whispers of the dead. His NODs carved narrow beams through the dark, revealing shattered tiles choked with debris and dust. Broken benches and rusted vending machines jutted out of the debris like the bones of some ancient beast. Graffiti covered the walls, layers of faded pre-war slogans buried beneath crude Wastelander scrawls: ¡®Death is mercy¡¯, ¡®Stay out or burn¡¯, and most chilling of all, the word ¡®QUEEN¡¯ painted in dripping red letters next to a crude drawing of an ant.

    ¡°Well, if that ain¡¯t fucking ominous,¡± Altan muttered, moving past the graffiti. His rifle bucked and barked as he continued his sweep through the metro, picking off ants as he found them. Several times, swarms forced him into tight corridors and onto still escalators as choke points, to avoid being overrun and cooked alive. During his sweep, Altan found several dead wastelanders¡ªone curled up in a ticket booth, clutching a tiny .32 pistol and a holotape. Both found their way into his pockets without hesitation. Deeper in, he stumbled across another body near a laser pistol, its surface worn from use. Scattered nearby were several energy cells, which Altan gathered up with a muttered, "Jackpot."

    "You''re not a rifle, but you''ll do for now," he said, inspecting the weapon. His assault rifle lay snug across his chest, secured by its three-point harness, as he opted for the laser pistol in the claustrophobic confines of the metro.

    The deeper he ventured, the more oppressive the metro became. The distant echoes of scuttling claws kept him on edge, while the sharp, chemical stench of whatever fueled their fire grew stronger with every step. He¡¯d burned through nearly three energy cells by the time he finally stumbled upon something unexpected¡ªa man in a lab coat, standing amidst the chaos with a wide-eyed grin.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    "You startled me!" the man said, his nasal voice slicing through the tension like a knife. "You really mustn''t sneak up on people like that."

    Altan blinked, narrowing his eyes as he assessed the man standing before him¡ªwide-eyed, unbothered by the chaos around them. His finger hovered over the safety of the laser pistol, tension crawling up his spine as he took in the bizarre sight before him. ¡°My apologies. Didn¡¯t expect to find anyone alive down here.¡±

    The man grinned, unphased. "Ah, precisely why this is the ideal place for my work! Do you realize you¡¯re trampling about in a delicate and highly sensitive experimentation area?"

    Altan¡¯s eyes narrowed. "You''re the one responsible for the fire-breathing ants?" It was less a question, and more an accusation.

    The man¡¯s grin widened. "Ah, yes! You see, I¡¯m working on reducing the girth of these insects using a pre-birth mutagen. Generational shrinkage! Isn¡¯t that clever?"

    Altan exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. "Dr. Lesko?"

    "Ah! Yes! Dr. Westin Lesko at your service!" The man beamed. "The issue, you see, is that I can''t access my terminal to make the necessary adjustments. The damage I¡¯ve caused needs repairing." He flailed his arms around like an excited child.

    "The damage you¡¯ve caused, Doc," Altan interrupted, his frustration mounting, "is that the whole town¡ªexcept one little boy¡ªis dead, or driven off. I found two bodies on my way down here, and there are more up top." Altan sighed deeply. "But that¡¯s in the past. How do we stop this?"

    Lesko didn¡¯t seem to notice Altan¡¯s frustration, his voice still tinged with excitement. "Ah, yes! My portable terminal is in the hatchery chamber, near the ant queen. If I can reach it, I can finish my work and improve the mutagen!"

    Altan¡¯s lips thinned, and his eyes hardened. "Why not just kill the queen?"

    Lesko blinked, as though the thought hadn¡¯t crossed his mind. "If I killed the queen, months of data would be lost! No, no, she must remain unharmed. Your job is to eliminate the ¡®nest guardians¡¯¡ªfilthy little abominations!" He waved his hand dismissively.

    "And that¡¯s it? Really?" Altan raised an eyebrow, skepticism thick in his voice.

    "Yes, yes, that¡¯s it!" Lesko nodded enthusiastically. "I¡¯ve rigged my equipment to emit an Inhibitor Pulse. When activated, the ants will lose their empathic link to the queen and destroy each other in a frenzy. It¡¯ll be glorious!" Lesko gave an excited clap, utterly oblivious to Altan¡¯s sarcasm.

    Altan sighed, his frustration palpable as he rubbed a hand over his face. "Fine. I¡¯ll do it. Just show me where to go."

    Lesko led him to a flimsy wooden door hastily tacked to the opening of a tunnel deeper in the metro. "There you go, young man. Beyond that door lies the hatchery chamber. Remember, the queen must remain unharmed."

    Altan brushed past him, descending into the chamber. The floor vibrated under his boots, and the skittering sounds of thousands of tiny claws scraping against stone echoed in the distance, along with the distant screeches of the queen.

    "Alright, Doc," Altan muttered, checking the charge in his laser pistol. "Time to finish this.¡±

 05 - Those?

    Delilah sat on a stool, legs swinging lazily as she chewed on a slice of candied apple. Altan had left her and Bryan with his rucksack at the diner on the outskirts of Greyditch. After stern instructions not to go wandering, he¡¯d gone off to handle things in town, trusting Delilah to keep watch. Sporadic gunshots echoed through the streets, eventually fading as Altan made his way toward the Metro station. A spread of snacks from Altan¡¯s rucksack lay scattered across the counter, along with the extra Chinese assault rifle he had recovered from Bryan¡¯s home. Delilah had taken it apart, determined to understand the fearsome device.

    Bryan, slouched at the counter, absently fiddled with a rusted fork. His eyes kept drifting to the disassembled rifle. ¡°So, you like taking stuff apart?¡±

    Delilah smiled, eyes bright as she explained. ¡°Yeah. Things like this?¡± She gestured to the rifle parts. ¡°It¡¯s like a story. You can guess where it¡¯s been, who used it, maybe even what happened to them.¡±

    Bryan furrowed his brow, leaning forward. ¡°That¡¯s... kinda weird. Also, that belonged to my pappa. I...¡± His voice faltered as he gripped the fork tighter. ¡°I already know what happened to him.¡±

    Delilah¡¯s smile faltered, her gaze softening. She leaned closer, resting a hand on Bryan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was... insensitive of me.¡±

    Bryan shook his head, not looking up. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I just... I don¡¯t think I want to talk about it right now.¡±

    Delilah nodded quietly, understanding. ¡°That¡¯s fair. But... for me, figuring stuff out, even the hard parts, helps. Like holotapes¡ªthey¡¯re better than stuff like this rifle. You don¡¯t just guess the story; you hear it.¡±

    Bryan¡¯s curiosity peaked despite himself. ¡°Holotapes?¡±

    Delilah¡¯s voice softened as she spoke. ¡°Yeah. I collect them. Some are music, but most? They¡¯re recordings of people talking. I have one where a guy talks about his last day at work before the bombs fell. He talks about his wife and dog and how he¡¯s excited to go home... and then it ends. That¡¯s all you get. It¡¯s sad, but... it¡¯s real.¡±

    Bryan fell silent for a moment, turning the fork over in his hands. ¡°So... you think it helps? Hearing them?¡±

    Delilah shrugged. ¡°Maybe not for everyone. But for me? It¡¯s like carrying them forward. Like saying, ¡®I hear you. You mattered.¡¯¡±

    Bryan looked down at the counter, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°I wish I had something like that for my dad.¡±

    Delilah gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. ¡°Maybe you do. And if you don¡¯t? We¡¯ll make sure people remember him. You¡¯re part of his story now.¡±

    Bryan didn¡¯t respond, but the tight grip on the fork loosened. He nodded slowly, and Delilah gave him a small, reassuring smile before returning to the rifle parts.

    Her curiosity about the weapon satisfied, Delilah carefully reassembled it. With a small grin, she slid the completed rifle over to Bryan. The two settled into a quieter routine, passing the time listening to holotapes that Altan had found on his trips¡ªfragments of a lost world: pre-war swing music, somber journals, and disjointed stories from the chaotic days after the bombs fell. Each tape offered a piece of history, a glimpse into the lives that had been lived before the wasteland swallowed it all.

    Then, an unexpected change swept over the settlement. A strange sensation, like a sudden shockwave, prickled their skin. Goosebumps rose as an unnatural energy pulsed through the air. The next moment, all hell broke loose. A lone ant in the distance¡ªone Altan had missed in his sweep earlier¡ªwent berserk. The little creature began darting around in a wild frenzy, spraying fire in every direction until it collapsed, seemingly spent. The silence that followed was almost too much.

    ¡°Woah,¡± they both said in unison, before bursting into nervous giggles at the odd coincidence. Delilah pulled out her laser pistol, a nervous swallow catching in her throat as she loaded an energy cell.

    ¡°That ant went totally crazy,¡± Bryan remarked, placing a hand on the rifle.

    Delilah nodded, eyes narrowed. ¡°Yeah. Do you wanna check it out?¡±

    Bryan frowned. ¡°Didn¡¯t your brother tell us to stay put until he comes back?¡±

    Delilah flashed a mischievous grin. ¡°Yeah, but he also said I was in charge while he¡¯s gone. So, I say we check it out. If we¡¯re quick, we can be back before he gets here.¡±

    "How do you know he''s coming back?" Bryan asked.

    The question made her heart skip, but Delilah shook her head. "He always comes back. Besides, that had to have been him, the weird-" she wiggled her arms, "-thing that made that ant go psycho."

    Bryan thought it over, then shrugged. ¡°I guess that makes sense. But if he gets mad, I¡¯m blaming you.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Delilah nodded, and packed up the remaining snacks into Altan¡¯s rucksack, then¡ªwith Bryan¡¯s help¡ªshoved it into a corner, covering it with debris to conceal it. She led the way out of the diner, laser pistol in one hand and her other hand resting lightly on her stealth boy. Bryan followed, carrying the Chinese assault rifle, which seemed almost comically large in his arms.

    The creature wasn¡¯t quite as dead as they had hoped, but it was clear that whatever had made it go mad had left it in a state of disarray. Delilah finished it off with a well-placed shot from her laser pistol, and for a brief moment, they stood over the still, smoldering body of the insect, both reflecting on the oddness of the situation.

    But their attention was soon diverted. Bryan wanted to explore his neighbor¡¯s house, and Delilah, ever adventurous, followed along. ¡°This is where my friend Will lived,¡± Bryan said quietly as they entered. ¡°He was sorta my friend. His mom was nice, too. Quiet, but always took care of me and my pappa when we came over. His dad was scary, even scarier than your brother.¡±

    Delilah nodded as they wandered through the dusty, abandoned house. Her Pip-Boy¡¯s light flickered on, illuminating the darkened interior as they gathered foodstuffs and other essentials. Eventually, they stumbled upon something curious¡ªa long, matte black case made of metal and hard plastic. It had several locked latches, and when Delilah attempted to open it, frustration set in. She groaned, giving the case a sharp kick.

    ¡°I can¡¯t get these stupid locks open,¡± she muttered, stowing her lockpick kit.

    Bryan shrugged, grunting as he lifted one corner of the case. He dropped it with a dull thud. ¡°We could get your brother to smash it open, right?¡±

    Delilah¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Oh, yeah! Let¡¯s bring it back to the diner. He¡¯ll get it open for us.¡±

    Bryan nodded, a smug grin spreading across his face. ¡°We can say we found it in my dad¡¯s secret stash.¡±

    Delilah¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Your dad had a secret stash? That¡¯s so cool!¡±

    They struggled to haul the heavy case back to the diner, but they finally managed to drag it across the threshold and manhandle it onto the counter. After catching their breath and enjoying a bottle of water, they heard the zap of a laser pistol in the distance, followed by the tell-tale bark of Altan''s rifle.

    ¡°He¡¯s back!¡± Delilah cheered, the weight of the day finally lifting.

    A few minutes later, Altan rounded the street corner and jogged toward the diner, looking a little singed in a few spots. "Hey, you two. That was a lot of fucking ants. You guys okay?"

    Delilah and Bryan, eager to explain, flooded him with questions. After a befuddled moment, Altan clapped his hands twice, silencing them. "Alright, alright, that''s enough. Let me sit down." He let out a relieved groan as he hopped up on the counter and off his feet, his elbow knocking into the case as he sat. His eyes flicked to the case, then over to Delilah and Bryan. "What''s with this box?"

    Delilah blanched, realizing she hadn¡¯t planned for this particular flaw in her plan to open the box. It required *Altan*, who had given them clear instructions to stay put. Fortunately, Bryan interjected before she could give herself away.

    ¡°Oh, we, uh... we found it in my pappa¡¯s stash. It¡¯s just behind the diner. I¡¯ll show you.¡± Bryan presented a key with a sheepish grin.

    Altan rolled his eyes. ¡°Right. What¡¯s in the box?¡±

    Delilah and Bryan exchanged a shrug. ¡°I dunno.¡±

    Altan tried opening the case, but the locks held firm. ¡°Prybar,¡± he said, glancing toward where he had left his rucksack, the space now conspicuously empty. Delilah¡¯s eyes shifted nervously.

    ¡°We, uh, hid it. Just in case.¡±

    Altan raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Delilah quickly uncovered the rucksack. With two quick grunts, he smashed the locks and pried open the case, revealing a break-action grenade launcher and a dozen identical grenades tucked into a sturdy canvas bandolier.

    He took a moment to study the weapon, running his fingers over its smooth, worn surface. The launcher had clearly seen its share of action, but it was still in good working order. ¡°M79, serial 171134,¡± he muttered to himself, reading the numbers etched on the barrel. Altan worked the action a few times, the satisfying ¡®clack¡¯ echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He paused to inspect the grenades, counting them one by one as he slid them from the bandolier. Altan whistled as he read the white stenciling on one of the grenades: M433, HEDP.

    Satisfied, he nodded to himself and turned his attention back to Delilah, who was watching him carefully. "Good find."

    After some time spent in silence, decompressing from the day¡¯s events, they decided to settle for the night in the house across from Bryan''s. It was the Brandice household the kids had raided earlier. The building was half-collapsed and scorched by the ant attack, but it still offered shelter¡ªand it was away from the grim scene next door. That, for now, was enough. As they cleared out the bedroom and set up their sleeping rolls, Altan didn¡¯t acknowledge the faint impression in the carpet where the case had been earlier, and Delilah didn¡¯t bring it up. Neither of them felt the need to, and it was easier that way.

    As Bryan eventually fell asleep, his steady breathing filling the room, Delilah shifted uneasily beside Altan. After a long pause, she spoke up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Altan. I... I lied earlier.¡±

    Altan rolled his eyes, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°Lied about what? That case? You didn¡¯t have to keep it a secret. I get it. You found it in the secret stash, right?¡± His tone was light, teasing even, as he glanced over at her.

    Delilah gave him a sheepish smile, nodding. ¡°Yeah. I... I thought you¡¯d be mad.¡±

    Altan shook his head slowly. ¡°Delilah, we don¡¯t have time for that kind of thing out here. I trust your judgment the way you trust mine. We''re going to make mistakes out here, probably a lot of them. So be brave, be bold, be who you want to be. Just don¡¯t keep stuff from me, okay?¡± He nudged her with his elbow, the warmth of his words easing some of the weight off her shoulders.

    She nodded, feeling a little lighter, and shifted closer to him. The quiet stretched on for a while, the only sound in the room being Bryan¡¯s breathing and the occasional creak of the house settling.

    As she started to drift off, Delilah remembered something. "Hey, bro? Did you find that¡ª" she let out a squeaky yawn, "¡ªthat stupid scientist? I wanted to give him a piece of my mind."

    Altan went still for a moment, his gaze drifting to the barricaded door. For a moment, he was lost in thought, then he turned to her, his expression unreadable. ¡°The ants got him.¡±

    Delilah blinked, the words sinking in slowly. She nodded, her eyes already half-closed, her exhaustion catching up with her. The quiet of the room seemed to pull at her, and before she could say anything more, she let out a soft sigh and turned onto her side, the weight of the day pulling her into sleep.

 06 - Breakfast

    Altan snapped awake as the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the narrow gaps in the bedroom door. Slowly, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, wiping away the last vestiges of sleep. He sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for the laser pistol he''d tucked next to him. He checked the energy cell, flicked the safety on, then holstered it. The morning air was chill, a reminder that the warmth of sleep was behind him.

    "Okie doke," Altan muttered under his breath, as if trying to convince himself that his bedroll wasn''t still calling his name. He stood quietly, avoiding any noise that might disturb the stillness of the moment, and looked over at the sleeping children.

    Delilah was curled up on her side, snoring softly. Her face was pressed into her new lab coat, which served as a makeshift pillow. There was a trail of drool, dampening the fabric beneath her chin. Altan couldn¡¯t help but smile at the sight. It was comforting in its simplicity. He reached over and gently tucked her in, ensuring the thin blanket was snug around her small frame to protect her from the early morning chill.

    Bryan, on the other hand, was tangled in his blanket, having tossed and turned throughout the night. His body was half-exposed, and the cold had crept in. Altan covered him again, this time draping his own blanket over the boy to keep him warm. For a moment, Altan just watched him, a pang of sympathy stirring in his chest. The boy had been through more than any child should ever have to endure.

    Sighing, Altan began rummaging through his bag for the hot plate and frying pan he¡¯d packed, setting them on the desk with a quiet clink. He flicked the switch to turn the hot plate on, the soft hum filling the room as it began to warm. While the hot plate heated up, Altan fished out the ingredients for their breakfast¡ªa can of cram, a tin of hash, and a package of hardtack crackers. The familiar process of cooking, even in such a desolate place, was strangely grounding. It didn¡¯t erase the uncertainty of the world outside, but it provided something constant, something he could count on.

    As the pan began to heat, Altan splashed a bit of oil into it, and then carefully sliced the cram into strips. The sizzle that followed was satisfying, a sound that brought a brief but comforting sense of normality.

    "Altan?" Delilah¡¯s sleepy voice broke through his concentration. He glanced at her, and she was just starting to stir, rubbing her eyes as she awoke. A soft whine of annoyance slipped from her as Altan playfully tossed a damp rag at her face.

    He chuckled softly. "Morning, Lily. Clean your face up."

    Delilah grumbled but nodded, wiping sleep away as she slowly came to life. Altan returned his focus to the frying pan, where the cram was beginning to crisp up nicely, releasing a mouthwatering aroma. As the smell filled the room, he added the hash, breaking it apart with his fork to prevent it from sticking. As an afterthought, he reached into his pack, pulling out a hunk of aged cheddar wrapped in wax paper. He shaved it over the sizzling ingredients, the rich aroma of the cheese adding a comforting depth to the meal.

    "That smells really good," Delilah murmured, her voice still thick with sleep as she shuffled over to stand beside him. "Is that Leo''s hash?"

    Altan nodded, showing her the can. The label was faded, but the stenciled design of a bowl containing a potato, an onion, an egg and a long pepper was still visible. "Yeah, from Leo¡¯s stock." He grinned at the anticipation in Delilah¡¯s eyes. "Go ahead and start waking Bryan. Breakfast will be ready by the time you finish packing up your bedroll."

    Delilah let out a quiet, tired ¡°okay,¡± and moved over to Bryan¡¯s side. She gave him a gentle shake, rousing him from his sleep. Altan kept an eye on them while he finished cooking, letting the smells of breakfast linger in the air.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    When the cheese had melted through and was beginning to sizzle in the frying pan, Altan turned off the hot plate. He set out three cups and forks, most of which he¡¯d snagged from the kitchen downstairs last night, and poured out some water for everyone. As the kids scrambled to finish packing up their bed kits, Altan couldn¡¯t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment¡ªone of those rare moments where everything seemed to be falling into place.

    ¡°Breakfast is ready,¡± he announced with a grin, holding up a finger as the kids rushed forward. ¡°Ah ah, wait. Wash your faces and hands first.¡±

    The two of them paused and reluctantly obeyed, wiping away the remnants of sleep. When they finally sat down around the desk, Altan observed them with a quiet sense of satisfaction. Delilah was already digging into her food, while Bryan looked unsure at first but quickly followed suit, all three of them sharing the meal in comfortable silence.

    Altan finished his portion first, taking the opportunity to look over at the kids as they ate. There was a certain tranquility in the moment, one that Altan didn¡¯t take for granted. But that peace would be fleeting. There were things to be done.

    "Alright," Altan said, clearing his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his attention to Bryan, who had frozen, fork halfway to his mouth. "We have a few things to take care of today. Bryan," he continued, raising an eyebrow, "I know the ants should be gone by now, but I can¡¯t leave you here by yourself. Do you have any family, someone who might take you in?"

    Bryan paused, his thoughts visibly turning as he chewed slowly. After a long moment, he shrugged. "Well, pappa always told me about my cousin Vera. She lives on some big, giant ship somewhere or something. Pappa called it ''Rivet City,'' but I dunno where that is."

    Delilah¡¯s face lit up at the mention of Rivet City. "That¡¯s where we¡¯re headed!" she interjected, her excitement almost contagious as she waggled her Pip-Boy in the air.

    Altan smiled at the synchronicity of it all, though it wasn¡¯t lost on him how strange it felt. ¡°Yeah, kinda weird how that works out, huh?¡± He scratched his head, then turned his gaze back to Bryan. "Well, if you''re okay with it, we can head there after we finish up with the folks around here."

    Bryan looked uncertain. "What do you mean by ''finish up''?" he asked, pushing around the last bits of his hash.

    Altan¡¯s expression darkened. "Cremation," he replied softly. "I don¡¯t have a shovel, and I¡¯m not about to leave the people here to rot. I found out that ants have a sac inside them with a kind of fluid they use to spit fire¡ªwell, it¡¯s more of a gel, actually¡ªbut I used some of that to cremate the two unlucky souls I found down in the metro."

    Bryan looked down at his portion, visibly disturbed by the mention of the dead, and pushed his hash over to Delilah¡¯s side of the pan. She wasted no time in scarfing it down. "I... guess that makes sense," Bryan muttered. He let out a long sigh. "I¡¯m sorry, mister, I don¡¯t mean to sound ungrateful. It¡¯s just¡ª" He threw his hands up in frustration.

    Altan leaned back in his chair, looking at the boy with understanding. "Don¡¯t worry about it," he said, voice softer now. "I can¡¯t even imagine what you''re going through. But you¡¯ve been handling this better than most grown-ups would."

    Standing up, Altan began to dismantle the barricade at the door, carefully making sure nothing would impede their departure. "Wait here. I¡¯ve got a surprise for you two."

    Delilah and Bryan exchanged curious glances as Altan stomped down the stairs. A few moments later, his heavy footsteps returned, and he emerged with a bottle of soda in hand. It was blue, glowing faintly, and already sweating beads of condensation.

    "An ice-cold Nuka Quantum," Altan said, grinning at their wide-eyed expressions.

    He cracked the bottle open with a sharp snap, and the hiss of the carbonation made Delilah squeal with delight. Altan poured half into each of their cups before pocketing the cap. "Finish up your breakfast, and enjoy that soda," he said, holding Bryan¡¯s gaze for a moment. "I¡¯m going to go harvest some gel sacs, and when I come back, we¡¯ll get things squared away." He paused, "Unless you''d rather I just take care of it? I''ll understand, either way."

    Bryan¡¯s eyes welled with tears as he pushed the empty pan away. "N-no, I wanna be there when you send pappa off." His voice cracked, and Delilah gently patted his back, offering him silent comfort.

    Altan nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of the boy''s grief. "Alright," he said softly. "I¡¯ll be back in a bit. We¡¯ll get through this together, alright? Then we head out to Rivet City. Hang in there, buddy.¡±

 07 - Grandma Sparkles

    Altan stepped back as the pyre burst into a blaze, watching as the bodies were rapidly reduced to ash. His voice was quiet, but firm, as he addressed the flames, as if speaking to the souls of the departed.

    ¡°For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.¡± He paused, his gaze lingering on the fire. "These people fought, they survived, they lived, just like all of us here. And now, they rest, not in the ruins of this world, but in a place that¡¯s been promised to them."

    He paused, the heat of the pyre stinging his face. It wasn''t the first pyre he''d started, and it certainly wouldn''t be the last. ¡°May their souls find peace in that eternal house.¡±

    Bryan nodded, and stood solemnly as the funeral pyre died down, leaving naught but cinders and ash. He hesitated, then spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Do you think Pappa¡¯s in heaven? That he¡¯s... happy now?¡±

    Altan¡¯s gaze stayed on the fire as he considered his answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know, kid. But what I do know is that your father loved you. And wherever he is now, I bet he¡¯s proud of how strong you¡¯ve become.¡±

    Bryan nodded slowly, clutching his father¡¯s rifle a little tighter. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡± He took another long look at the remains of the pyre, and let out a heavy sigh as he slung his bundle of belongings over his shoulder. "I''m ready to go."

    Altan nodded and tapped Delilah on the shoulder, catching her attention. She glanced up, blinking in surprise when he pushed the grenade launcher they''d found yesterday into her arms.

    "What?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

    Altan smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You didn¡¯t think I was going to carry this thing for you, did you? You two found it, so you get to handle it."

    He didn¡¯t wait for a response, draping the bandolier of grenades over Bryan¡¯s torso with a satisfied nod. Bryan gave him an incredulous look, while Delilah stood frozen, the weight of the weapon more than just physical.

    "This is because we lied to you about the case, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bryan said with a pout, adjusting the bandolier awkwardly.

    Altan¡¯s smirk widened. "Partly. Consider it a little lesson about trust and responsibility. But more importantly," he paused, his expression softening, "I wouldn¡¯t hand this over if I didn¡¯t think you could handle it."

    Delilah¡¯s frown flickered into something closer to pride, though she quickly masked it. She turned the launcher over in her hands, examining it with wide eyes. "It¡¯s... heavier than it looks," she admitted, her tone almost reverent.

    "It sure is. And that¡¯s why you¡¯re both going to learn how to use it properly before we head out," Altan said firmly, reaching out to take the weapon back. She squawked in protest but reluctantly let go.

    Altan demonstrated the loading and unloading process, explaining the cross-bolt safety and reminding them of the launcher¡¯s explosive potential. "This isn¡¯t a toy, and it doesn¡¯t forgive mistakes," he said gravely, his gaze flicking between them to ensure they understood.

    When he handed the launcher back, Delilah accepted it more carefully this time, her grip steady. Bryan, meanwhile, stood straighter under the weight of the grenades, the earlier complaint replaced by a determined set to his jaw.

    ¡°Good,¡± Altan said, his voice lighter now. ¡°Five reload drills each, and then we hit the road. Think of it as a warm-up."

    Bryan''s eyes widened as he took the launcher, his movements careful and reverent, while Delilah¡¯s focused expression revealed how seriously she was taking the task. Altan watched them pass the launcher between themselves, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. They were still kids, but they were learning¡ªstep by step¡ªto shoulder the weight of survival.

    When Delilah finished her fifth reload, the metallic clink of the empty casing hitting the ground seemed to echo in the quiet air. Altan reached into the bandolier draped across Bryan¡¯s torso and pulled out a live grenade, the dull green casing glinting faintly in the sunlight. He held it out to Delilah, his expression firm but calm.

    Delilah hesitated, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at the device. Finally, she took it gingerly, her fingers trembling just enough for Altan to notice. The weight of the grenade launcher caused it to slip awkwardly from her arms, its sling catching and swinging against her side.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Altan rested a steadying hand on her shoulder. ¡°Easy,¡± he said gently. ¡°It¡¯s just another tool, like any other weapon. Handle it with care, but don¡¯t let it scare you.¡±

    Delilah swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the grenade as she carefully brought the launcher back up. Altan guided her hands as she slid the grenade into the chamber, the faint click of it slotting into place sounding far louder than it should have.

    ¡°There,¡± he said, stepping back. ¡°Now snap it shut and engage the safety.¡±

    She did as instructed, the launcher¡¯s safety clicking into position with a finality that made Bryan let out a soft, almost inaudible ¡°Whoa.¡±

    Altan gave them both an approving nod. ¡°Good work. Keep that same focus anytime you¡¯re handling it, and you¡¯ll be fine. The arming distance on these is supposed to be around 15 yards, but don¡¯t count on it. Treat it like it¡¯s always armed.¡±

    Delilah nodded, her earlier nervousness giving way to a small, proud smile. Altan adjusted the launcher¡¯s sling so it rested more comfortably across her back. ¡°We¡¯ll need to find a better sling eventually, but this¡¯ll do for now. You¡¯re ready.¡±

    Bryan looked at Altan, then at Delilah, and finally down at the grenades strapped across his chest. ¡°I guess this makes us a real team now, huh?¡±

    Altan chuckled, ruffling Bryan¡¯s hair. ¡°Damn right.¡±

    With that, he slung his own rifle over his shoulder and motioned for them to follow. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get moving. We¡¯ve got a lot of ground to cover, and I¡¯d rather not do it after dark.¡±

    They set off, Altan leading them along the road by the riverfront. "If the directions I got are right, we¡¯ll follow this road past a neutral spot run by someone called Grandma Sparkles. We¡¯ll stop there for snacks and directions." He chuckled as the kids perked up at the mention of snacks. "Then we pass a raider checkpoint¡ª"

    Delilah froze, her voice trembling. "Raiders? Are we going to fight them?"

    Altan shook his head. "Shouldn¡¯t have to. From what I¡¯ve heard, they¡¯re under the bridge to keep an eye on the Citadel. If they act up, the Brotherhood will put them down." He crouched and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "We¡¯ll probably just pay a toll and move on."

    Bryan frowned. "And if they don¡¯t let us?"

    Altan met Bryan''s gaze with a calm steadiness. "Then we¡¯ll figure it out. And if worst comes to worst," he patted the rifle slung across his torso, "I¡¯ve got thirty reasons why they should¡¯ve just let us pass."

    Bryan¡¯s eyes widened slightly, but a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Delilah let out a nervous laugh, and though she didn¡¯t fully share in the humor, the tension eased. Altan gave their shoulders a squeeze before standing and leading the way forward.

    Delilah shared a glance with Bryan, nodding hesitantly. Her fears still lingered, but she kept them to herself. She fell into step behind Altan, the grenade launcher shifting on her back with every step¡ªa weight both intimidating and oddly reassuring.

    It wasn''t long before they spotted Grandma Sparkles'' cafe in the distance, an open-air setup of about a dozen tables with chairs, a large cooktop and a cooler under an awning set up against a shack. Grandma Sparkles¡¯ shack was a hodgepodge of scrap metal and faded signs, perched on the edge of the waterfront. The woman herself stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a sly grin on her face.

    ¡°Well, ain¡¯t this a surprise,¡± she drawled, eyeing Altan¡¯s group. ¡°Don¡¯t see too many folks with kids these days. What can ol¡¯ Grandma Sparkles do for ya?¡±

    ¡°Good afternoon. We''re heading to Rivet City, and we could use some snacks, maps if you''ve got them, and maybe some advice,¡± Altan said, keeping his tone polite.

    ¡°Advice don¡¯t come cheap,¡± she replied, her grin widening. ¡°But I¡¯ll throw in a pack of sugar bombs if you¡¯ve got caps to spare.¡±

    Altan nodded, fishing around in his duster. He pointed to a table, and the kids sat down. "We''re looking to cross at the bridge up ahead. I hear there''s a raider checkpoint. You got any advice? We''re peaceful travelers just looking to get by."

    Grandma Sparkles gave him a pointed look, her gaze drifting from the rifle laying across his chest to the magazines and grenades hanging off his vest. Her eyes then flicked over the weapons slung across the children''s backs. She raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at her lips.

    "Peaceful travelers, huh?" she muttered, clearly unconvinced.

    ¡°Peaceful, not harmless,¡± Altan replied, his voice low but sharp, a clear challenge in his gaze.

    The two stared at each other for a long moment, the silence thick with unspoken understanding. Finally, the older woman gave a slight nod. "Fair enough. Those boys and girls up there charge a fair toll¡ªtwenty-five caps a head. They ain''t *my* boys and girls, but they ain''t all bad sorts, either." She rolled her eyes at Altan''s incredulous look. "Oh, don''t give me that. You''ve got a green look about you, so I''ll give you this bit of advice for free. Most folks out here are just trying to get by. A lot of ''em don''t have much choice in how they do that¡ªeven raiders¡ªand they don¡¯t want to die any more than you do. Keep that in mind, and you¡¯ll keep your head."

    Altan¡¯s eyes softened for a moment, a brief flash of guilt crossing his face. It was gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by a sigh. "Thanks. What do I owe you?"

    The old woman "hmm''d" for a moment, her eyes glinting with calculation. "A hundred caps ought to do."

    Altan raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. "Fifty caps, and I tell you that Greyditch is full of freshly dead ants. Enough to feed an entire town for weeks."

    Grandma Sparkles paused, her gaze narrowing as she considered the offer. She let out a low chuckle, her smirk widening. "Dead ants, huh? Ain''t heard that one before. But alright, you drive a hard bargain." Altan nodded, and the deal was struck with a quick exchange of caps. A box of sugar bombs found its way into Altan''s rucksack, and he glanced back at the children, still lost in their game of rock, paper, scissors at the table.

    "Lily, Bryan, let''s go."

 08 - High Explosive, Dual Purpose

    The bridge loomed ahead, the raiders¡¯ makeshift barricade visible even from a distance. Rusted cars littered the road, their frames piled together with tangled barbed wire. The path ahead was almost entirely blocked, except for a small gap where two figures stood watch.

    ¡°Stay close,¡± Altan murmured, his voice low. ¡°We¡¯ll try the toll first.¡±

    As they approached, one of the raiders stepped forward, a toothy grin spreading across his scarred face. ¡°Well, well. Ain¡¯t you a brave one, bringing kids through here. Toll¡¯s fifty caps a head.¡±

    "Thirty,¡± Altan countered, his rifle at the ready, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. ¡°You don¡¯t want to make a liar out of Grandma Sparkles, do you?¡±

    The first raider¡¯s grin faltered, and his hand twitched toward his holster. But before he could act, Delilah shifted, the grenade launcher rattling against her back. The second raider stiffened at the sight of the distinctive stock over her shoulder, his eyes widening.

    ¡°Fine,¡± the first raider muttered, casting a glance at his partner. ¡°Thirty it is.¡±

    Altan motioned to Delilah, who reached into an outside pocket on his duster, and pulled out a pouch of caps. "Count it out, Lily."

    She nodded, nervous eyes flicking between the raiders and the pouch as she counted. "...eighty-nine, ninety." She slipped the leftover caps back into Altan''s duster, and held out the pouch. Altan took the pouch, and tossed it over the barricade. A few tense moments passed, and the raiders stood down, allowing the group to pass.

    "Pleasure doing business with ya, suckers!" One of the raiders laughed, tossing the pouch up and down. Altan didn''t reply, keeping himself and his rifle between the kids and the raiders, until they reached the collapsed section and began to climb up. To their immense relief, none of the raiders pursued, and they made it to the top unmolested. As one, the trio let out the breath they didn''t realize they''d been holding, and shared a moment of relieved laughter.

    "My heart was beating like crazy!" Bryan babbled out, and Delilah nodded frantically in agreement.

    "You were like G.I. Jerry!" Delilah tugged at Altan¡¯s sleeve, her voice tinged with excitement. She pantomimed his stance, adding a mock-serious tone, "Thirty caps. You don¡¯t wanna make Granny Sparkles a liar, do ya?"

    Altan chuckled, giving her a gentle smile. "G.I. Jerry, huh? That is the highest of praise." He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the horizon as if to shake off the tension. ¡°Fuck, that was stressful,¡± he muttered, his voice quieter now. ¡°But you two did extremely well. I¡¯m proud of you."

    ¡°Let¡¯s get over the water,¡± Altan continued, scanning the path ahead. ¡°We¡¯ll hunker down behind one of those cars, take ten, and reset. I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m about ready to forget those assholes.¡±

    The kids fell in line behind Altan, and they found a spot between two cars to rest. They cracked open the box of Sugar Bombs, sharing the stale cereal between them, laughing and chatting despite the worn edges of their situation. Altan, ever watchful, kept his focus on the far side of the river through his binoculars, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. The kids'' chatter faded into the background, but Altan remained alert, the faintest unease still gnawing at him. His expression darkened as his binoculars focused on hulking, distant figures. A low curse slipped from his lips, and he quickly stashed the binoculars away.

    "Altan?" Delilah asked, softly tugging on his arm as he swung his rucksack around, unzipping the canvas case strapped to its side. Inside, several boxy rifle magazines were neatly arranged. With quick, practiced movements, Altan swapped out some of the curved magazines from his vest for the bulkier ones, then slid one into his rifle with a soft click. He zipped up the case, filled with the regular mags, and turned his steady gaze toward the kids, his expression unreadable.

    ¡°Alright, you two. We''ve got super mutants ahead," Altan said, his voice light, but with a flicker of something more serious beneath it. The kids stiffened at the mention of the monsters, but Altan waved it off with a grin. "Not as bad as they sound. They''re big, fast, and tough¡ªbut also pretty stupid. They usually can''t hit the broad side of a barn, and they don¡¯t exactly win any awards for intelligence."

    He paused, eyes scanning the horizon as his grin faded just slightly. "That said, they¡¯re aggressive as hell, and cannot be bargained with. They make up for all the fine motor skills they¡¯re missing with heavy weapons." He chuckled, trying to keep the mood light, but his eyes darkened for a moment. "Or, you know, so I¡¯ve heard. I only ran into one once, and it was just holding a board with nails in it. So¡ª"

    The tinny sound of "Dixie" drifted from the collapsed side of the bridge, slicing through the heavy silence. Altan froze, his eyes narrowing. The three of them stared, bewildered, as an Eyebot crested the fallen section of the bridge and floated merrily along, oblivious to the danger waiting on the other side of the river. Its cheerful, dissonant tune seemed almost comical against the threat of super mutants looming just beyond.

    Altan eyed the bot, an idea quickly forming. He motioned toward the drifting eyebot with his rifle, his voice low but steady. "Stay put. I''m gonna let that bot draw their fire, then take them out. I¡¯ll come get you when it¡¯s safe."

    Delilah shot him a worried glance, but he didn¡¯t meet her gaze, focusing entirely on the bot. Bryan fidgeted, but didn¡¯t protest, the tension mounting between them. As Altan took a step after the bot, Delilah stood, frowning. "Wait. I¡¯m coming with you."If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "What?" Altan¡¯s head snapped in her direction. "No, you''re not," he said, his voice firm. "This isn''t a negotiation, Delilah. I''ll handle it."

    She took a step closer, her fists balled at her sides. "Why do you always do this? You keep acting like I¡¯m a little kid who can¡¯t do anything!"

    "You are a kid," Altan countered, gesturing toward her. "You¡¯re thirteen, Delilah. I don¡¯t want you anywhere near those mutants. Do you even understand what they¡¯d do to you if things went wrong?"

    Her expression hardened, a fire lighting in her eyes. "I¡¯m not asking to fight them alone. I just want to help. Why is it okay for you to risk yourself for me, but I can¡¯t do the same for you? That¡¯s not fair, Altan!"

    Altan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It¡¯s not about fairness. It¡¯s about keeping you safe. Taking a life... it changes you. I don¡¯t want you to have to carry that."

    Delilah crossed her arms, her voice rising. "I already killed an ant yesterday, didn¡¯t I? What¡¯s the difference? Was its life worth less just because it was a bug? You can¡¯t shield me forever, Altan. I¡¯m not a little kid anymore."

    "You are to me," Altan muttered, his tone softer than before.

    "Then let me grow up," she shot back. "I¡¯m not just tagging along for the snacks, you know. I¡¯m here because I want to help."

    "You adults are all the same," Bryan mumbled, turning a glare onto Altan. "You always think you can run off and do things by yourself, and then you-" he choked up, "-you die, and leave everyone else behind."

    Altan glanced between them, his jaw tight. He wanted to argue, to put his foot down, but Delilah¡¯s determined face and Bryan¡¯s shaky voice gave him pause. He sighed again, this time with resignation.

    "Alright," he said finally, meeting Delilah¡¯s gaze. "But you stay behind me. You do exactly what I say. No heroics, no risks. Got it?"

    Delilah nodded, her expression resolute. "Got it."

    Altan turned back toward the eyebot, muttering under his breath, "Lord, if you''re out there, please watch over us and guide our steps." He paused, a tremor in his voice, "Don¡¯t let me regret this."

    They quickly packed up their snack and followed the eyebot at a distance. As it neared the other side of the bridge, Altan held his hand up, and pointed at the grenade launcher slung over Delilah''s shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she scurried closer to him.

    "Really?!" She whispered excitedly, less a question, more a plea for permission. Altan gave her a stern look, but nodded. He jabbed a pair of fingers at her and Bryan, raised his fist, then pointed at the rusted hulk of a car just off the ramp. The kids stared at him, and he sighed, repeating the motions while whispering what they meant.

    "You two, move quickly, over there." He went to make another set of hand motions, but sighed again, "I''ll head to the other side of the ramp, and lay down fire. Got it?" They nodded, scampering over to the car. As the eyebot began its merry journey down the ramp, Altan took off.

    Several things happened at once. As Altan charged into the open, a deafening whoosh echoed from farther down the ramp. He cursed as a pillar of fire streaked past him, slamming into a building behind the bridge. The explosion that followed erupted in a blinding flash, a deafening roar, and a shockwave that rattled their cover, sending debris flying and making the kids'' ears pop.

    Delilah coughed, working her jaw to get the pressure back, and peeked over the car to see what Altan wanted her to do. He was-

    Her breath hitched as her eyes locked onto Altan¡¯s motionless form. He was lying next to a car, helmet gone, rifle trapped beneath him. Her heart stopped. She couldn¡¯t breathe, couldn¡¯t move¡ªonly stared at him, hoping he''d somehow, impossibly, get up.

    Deaf to Bryan''s insistent tugs and the whip-crack of bullets zipping past her, Delilah stood up from cover, launcher in hand, searching for the source of the chaos. The launcher snapped to her shoulder as she spotted a pair of brutish, yellow-green creatures in a skybridge, one of them loading a launcher of its own¡ªan old, rusty tube longer than she was tall.

    Delilah squeezed the trigger, and the grenade launcher thumped. The deadly payload shot toward one of the ugly bastards¡ªor so she thought. Instead, the grenade hit the skybridge itself, sending both creatures sprawling with a sharp crack and a bright flash. Delilah wanted to scream at them, but she couldn¡¯t. She was already screaming. How long had she been screaming?

    She stumbled, falling backward onto the ground, but Bryan was there, pulling her behind the cover. Her mind was reeling, but all she could hear was Bryan¡¯s voice, shaking her back to reality.

    "-lilah! Delilah! Snap out of it!" Bryan''s voice cut through the ringing in her ears. She gasped, struggling for breath, and fumbled with the grenade launcher''s action.

    "I need another!" she stammered, tossing the spent casing aside. Bryan shot her a quick, confused look, then pulled a grenade from his bandolier. She thanked him with a shaky nod, loading the new round and snapping the launcher shut.

    "I''m gonna see if I got them, okay?" she shouted, barely able to hear herself over the ringing. Bryan gave her a quick nod and hunkered down behind the wreck.

    Delilah popped her head up, half expecting to get shot. But instead of more bullets, all that greeted her was an eerie silence and a pile of twisted debris where the skybridge had once stretched.

    An even bigger, meaner super mutant lumbered into view from a crumbling ruin beside the road, a minigun slung at its waist, the barrel swinging toward Delilah as it opened fire.

    She dove to the side, the grenade launcher clattering to the ground beside the car as bullets hammered into the metal, pinging and ricocheting off the car¡¯s frame. A few punched through the ancient metal with a spray of rust, narrowly missing her and Bryan, and she found herself screaming once more. The fire kept up for a few long, agonizing moments before it finally stopped. Through the ringing in her ears, Delilah could hear the mutant''s guttural taunts and the heavy thud of footsteps echoing up the ramp¡ªa chilling reminder that they were closing in fast.

    Desperately, she readied her laser pistol, nudging Bryan, who was fumbling with his assault rifle, tears streaking down his face. Then, like a beacon of hope, the blessedly familiar bark of Altan¡¯s rifle echoed, roaring in full auto.

    She braved a glance past her cover and saw Altan, screaming obscenities as he limped forward, unleashing a torrent of gunfire on the mutants. Several were caught flatfooted, dropping in twitching piles of dead flesh. The minigun-wielding mutant lasted long enough to swing its menacing death-spitter at Altan, before Delilah¡¯s grenade launcher thumped again, turning it into a red mist.

    Altan held his position, struggling to reload his rifle before it slipped from his grasp, hanging loosely against his chest. With a grunt, he drew his laser pistol in one hand and his 10mm in the other, wielding them akimbo with shaking arms. When no more mutants emerged, he exhaled a wheezing breath before finally collapsing to the ground.

 09 - Crash

    "Altan!" Delilah screamed, abandoning her grenade launcher as she sprinted to his side. Her trembling hands struggled to roll him over. Bryan hesitated, his wide eyes flicking toward the wreckage below the ramp, but quickly hurried to help. Together, they managed to shift Altan onto his back. He coughed, each breath ragged and pained, his face contorted in a grimace.

    "Hey, it¡¯s okay," he rasped, his arms trembling as he forced himself into a sitting position. "I¡¯m not done yet." His voice wavered, but he snapped his fingers sharply, pulling their focus. "Listen up. I¡¯m fucked up, but I¡¯m not dying."

    His eyelids drooped for a moment, his head dipping before he forced himself upright again. When he spoke, his faint voice cut through the fog of panic: "Not if you help me."

    The kids nodded frantically, their hands clutching him desperately. Altan''s smile wavered, a drunken, pained expression, before he weakly gestured toward his rucksack.

    "Bring me the lid¡ªthe top flap. Quick," he murmured.

    Delilah darted to the pack, her fingers fumbling with the buckles. Her breaths came quick and shallow until she paused, forcing herself to take a deep, steadying breath. A moment later, she was back at his side, her eyes wide but determined.

    "What now?" Delilah asked, clutching the pouch tightly in her hands.

    Altan''s trembling fingers fumbled with the zipper, his frustration evident. Gently, she pushed his hands aside. "I¡¯ve got it," she murmured, unzipping it in one swift motion.

    Inside, several canvas cases and an orange plastic box were packed tightly together. She pulled out the first canvas case and flipped it open, revealing its contents: a stimpak, an auto-injector, a syringe, and a small vial labeled morphine.

    "Stimpak... now. Doesn''t matter where," Altan rasped.

    Delilah nodded quickly, her hands trembling as she positioned the stim over his leg. The needle met resistance before sinking in, and Altan hissed sharply through clenched teeth, his whole body tensing.

    "Now the morphine¡ªtwo mils, other leg," he rasped, each word seeming to cost him.

    Delilah¡¯s hands were steadier this time, though her jaw tightened as she measured the dose. She slid the needle into his other leg with care, her movements precise despite her fraying nerves.

    Altan let out a long, shuddering sigh, his muscles slackening as an icy fire burned the pain away, though his face remained pale and drawn. His breath eased, but his body still longed to sink into the floor, the lingering ache replaced by a strange, detached calm.

    For a moment, the only sound was the soft, uneven hiss of his breathing. Delilah stayed frozen, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. A tense minute passed before she tentatively shook his shoulder, her voice trembling. "Altan?"

    He snapped awake with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes locking onto hers. "Yeah, Lily, I¡¯m here. Still with you," he murmured. His voice was steadier now, his words less slurred. He managed a faint smile, lifting a shaky thumbs-up. "Great job. You¡¯re doing great."

    Delilah exhaled in relief, her posture softening. Altan gestured weakly toward the orange container. "Sharps," he said. "Put the stim and the needle in there. Pack the morphine up, seal it tight, and stick it in a bag."

    Delilah nodded, carefully placing the used items into the sharps container as instructed. Beside her, Bryan zipped up the canvas case and tucked it into his pack. Altan offered them a faint, strained smile. "Alright," he said, his voice still hoarse. "Take five. The epi¡¯s gonna peak soon, and I¡¯ll be good to move."

    They waited in tense silence, the seconds dragging by as Altan¡¯s breaths grew steadier. Finally, with visible effort, he pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled under his weight but held firm. The cocktail of drugs was taking hold, flushing the pain from his features.

    Altan scanned the area before turning his attention to his rifle. He ran his fingers along its body, inspecting for damage, and grimaced as he loaded a fresh casket mag. The mechanical click echoed in the quiet, a grim reminder of the fight still ahead.

    "Let¡¯s go," he muttered, his voice steady, though laced with exhaustion.

    Bryan hesitated, eyeing him critically. "Can you walk?"

    Altan nodded, but his shallow breaths betrayed his struggle. "Yeah. Stimpaks helped, but I¡¯m still wrecked. I think I broke something when I hit that car, but I can keep moving." He paused, swaying slightly as he caught his breath. "We need shelter. Someone grab my ruck. It¡¯s heavy, so... be careful."Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Delilah darted off to retrieve it, but the weight proved too much for her alone. Bryan quickly joined her, and together, they hoisted it between them. They moved toward the ruins, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound as they descended the ramp.

    "There," Altan said, pointing to a half-collapsed building nearby. "That''ll do."

    Inside, the building was bare, its remains scattered and sparse. A crumbling staircase led to a second level, while a few planks of wood rested precariously on exposed rebar. Altan made it up the first flight before collapsing against the wall, his breath ragged. "Okay, gimme my ruck."

    Delilah and Bryan hauled the pack up beside him, and Altan unbuttoned a side pouch. Inside, nestled among his gear, was a canteen with a red strip of tape wrapped around it. He grunted, unscrewing the cap, and tilted the canteen back, draining it in a single long swig.

    When he finished, Altan capped the canteen and let it slip from his hands. He slumped against the wall, closing his eyes, letting the silence settle.

    "You two did great," he rasped, managing a faint, tired smile. "Stronger than you think."

    Delilah, still trembling, nodded but said nothing. Instead, she sat beside him and hugged his arm tightly, her body shaking until he took her hand and squeezed it gently. Bryan stood at the entrance, his gaze locked on the ruins, silent and vigilant.

    He paced near the entrance, gripping his Chinese assault rifle tightly. Distant gunfire echoed sporadically¡ªfaint, but unmistakable. He wasn¡¯t certain, but it sounded closer now. His jaw tightened, his hands trembling against the weapon¡¯s grip. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, his breathing shallow and uneven, he kept his eyes fixed on the ruins outside, the light fading as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky.

    Behind him, Altan leaned against the wall¡ªpale but steady¡ªand Delilah sat beside him, quietly sobbing, clutching his arm as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. The silence in the room made the outside world feel sharper, more threatening.

    A sudden noise¡ªjust the wind catching a loose piece of metal¡ªmade Bryan whirl around, his rifle raised, finger hovering near the trigger. The clang echoed through the empty building, and he exhaled shakily, lowering the weapon.

    "Bryan?" Delilah¡¯s voice was soft, but it startled him all the same. He glanced back to find her sitting up, her face pale, streaked with tears and dust.

    "Still clear," he muttered, his voice low and strained.

    She studied him for a moment, her hands clutching the straps of Altan¡¯s rucksack. "You''ve been standing there a while. You should sit."

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Bryan replied quickly, his eyes flicking back to the entrance. His knuckles were white against the rifle¡¯s grip, but his stance remained steady.

    Delilah didn¡¯t argue, but her gaze lingered on him, filled with quiet concern. She leaned against Altan again, her eyes following Bryan as he moved to the side of the doorway, scanning the shadows outside.

    Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Every noise seemed amplified, every shadow darker. Bryan adjusted his grip on the rifle, his arms stiffening from the tension. The silence inside the building was suffocating, broken only by the soft sounds of Delilah shifting her weight or the faint rasp of Altan¡¯s breathing.

    Bryan froze at the sound of footsteps crunching over debris, his finger sliding to the trigger. He squared his shoulders, aiming at the darkened doorway, where fleeting shadows danced just out of reach.

    "Stop!" he barked, his voice echoing through the ruins like a gunshot.

    The footsteps halted. A voice called out from beyond the entrance, smooth but cautious: "Easy, kid. We¡¯re Rivet City Marines. We¡¯ve been sweeping the riverfront, clearing out the super mutants. You alone?" A man clad in heavy armor, hands raised in a gesture of peace, slowly stepped through the entrance.

    Bryan tensed, his gaze darting toward the shadowed stairwell behind him where Altan and Delilah were recovering. "Doesn¡¯t matter. Stay where you are."

    The marine exchanged a quick glance with one of his companions, who stepped around the corner, lowering the muzzle of his rifle slightly. "Look, we¡¯re not here to hurt anyone," the marine said, his voice calm but firm. "You look like you¡¯ve been through hell. If you need help, we can provide it."

    Bryan''s grip tightened on his rifle as more footsteps echoed from behind the first two figures. "Don¡¯t come any closer!" he snapped, his voice breaking slightly, a tremor of fear creeping into his tone.

    "Stand down, Bryan," came a calm but firm voice from the stairwell. Altan, unsteady but upright, leaned against the crumbling wall for support. Delilah trailed behind him, rubbing at her eyes, her laser pistol clutched tightly in one hand. "I¡¯ll take over," Altan added, raising a hand to Bryan. "It¡¯s okay."

    Bryan blinked, his eyes darting from Altan to the marines and back. Slowly, he lowered the rifle, the tension in his posture melting as his arms dropped to his sides.

    The marine lowered his hands, exhaling in relief. "Your kid''s got nerve," he said, nodding toward Bryan. "Not many stand their ground like that." He paused, then added, "Name¡¯s Sergeant Harlan. We¡¯ve been sweeping through this sector. No mutants left between here and Rivet City."

    "Appreciate the update," Altan replied, straightening despite his obvious exhaustion. His gaze swept over the marines, lingering briefly on their weapons and armor. "We had our own encounter earlier. Didn''t go so well."

    Harlan glanced toward the fallen skybridge, then back at Altan. "Damn. Looks like the muties got the worst of it."

    Altan let out a tired chuckle and nudged Delilah with his elbow. "Believe it or not? All her." The girl bashfully hid behind her brother, too exhausted to be smug or snarky. Altan chuckled again, but it turned into a ragged cough.

    The guards grimaced. "Yeesh. You don''t look so hot. Tell you what, we''re wrapping up our patrol. Stand by for fifteen, and we''ll escort you to Rivet City."

    Altan glanced at Bryan, who hesitantly nodded. He could feel Delilah nodding against his back. He looked back at the guards. "We''d appreciate that."

    With a few directions exchanged, the marines began to move off, their heavy boots crunching on the rubble-strewn ground. Bryan watched them go, his rifle still loosely held in his hands.

    Altan placed a hand on Bryan¡¯s shoulder. "You held your ground, Bryan. You kept us safe." His voice was hoarse, but the hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder was steady. "I¡¯m proud of you."

    Bryan nodded silently, finally lowering the weapon completely. Altan glanced at Delilah, who gave him a small, tired smile. Together, they began packing their things to follow the marines¡¯ path toward Rivet City.

 10 - Rivet City

    "Alright, you''re good to go. Your kids are waiting for you outside."

    Altan nodded, too exhausted to correct the doctor. "Thanks, Doc."

    The doctor, a middle-aged woman, gave him a stern look. "Enjoy your stay at Rivet City," she said, pausing for emphasis. "And take better care of yourself. The wasteland isn¡¯t kind to parentless children."

    Altan grunted in response, but his heart sank. Delilah was tough, but that wouldn¡¯t stop a bullet. It wouldn¡¯t stop them¡ªthe raiders, the slavers, and worse. His jaw clenched as a hot flush of rage spread through his body at the thought of Delilah becoming just another resource for some monster.

    "Altan!" The rage melted away as Bryan and Delilah shouted his name in unison, their tired but happy faces crowding around him.

    "Hey, you two. You ready to go?" he asked, his tone softening as he smiled at them. The kids nodded eagerly, and Altan led them past the bulkhead door of Rivet City''s visitor quarantine. Following the posted signs, they climbed a flight of stairs. He sighed, realizing this would be the first of many.

    When they''d first arrived at Rivet City, they''d crossed the drawbridge and been escorted into a stairwell, then led several levels down. After a quick decontamination shower and an actual hot shower, Altan had endured a borderline invasive physical examination. He''d been annoyed by the doctor poking and prodding him¡ªhe was just desperate to find a bed and collapse¡ªbut it was mandatory for anyone entering the ship. At least it came with the opinion of a medical professional.

    The doctor had made it clear: He was simultaneously lucky, an idiot, reckless, and, of course, an idiot¡ªshe had mentioned that one more than twice. Altan took it all in stride, even if the ten minutes of being lectured had grated on his nerves. She wasn¡¯t wrong, though.

    "What did the doctor say?" Bryan asked.

    Altan shrugged. "Two days of bed rest, hearty meals, lots of water. One week of light duty after that. And she told me to stop being an idiot." He paused, then added with a sigh, "More times than I care to remember."

    Delilah giggled next to him, her face pressed into his arm, muffling the sound. "She sees the truth."

    Altan raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

    Delilah nodded, a teasing smile on her face as she peeked up at him. "Yeah, that you''re a turbo dork."

    Altan chuckled and steered the kids up another flight of stairs. By the time they reached the so-called "Upper Deck," Altan was flagging, and the kids weren¡¯t doing much better. They paused to catch their breath.

    "You ready for this?" Altan asked Bryan.

    The boy hesitated, then shrugged. "I mean, I guess. I¡¯m just really nervous. What if she doesn¡¯t let me live with her?"

    Altan nodded. "Then we''ll find you somewhere else to live. There''s an entire village along the riverbank, another one further north, and one more in the marshes on the other side of the ship." He paused. "But we¡¯ll worry about that later¡ªif we have to. You''re a great little man, Bryan. I¡¯m sure Vera will love you. If she doesn''t, then it¡¯s her loss."

    Bryan nodded, and they followed the signs to the Weatherly Hotel. It turned out to be a collection of rooms with watertight doors, spread across several hallways. Most were sealed shut at this late hour, but a few were cracked open, and faint sounds of conversation could be heard from inside. Altan ignored those and continued following the signs until they reached a large room repurposed into a lobby.

    A large curved desk manned by a Mr. Handy stood in the center, flanked by sofas and armchairs arranged near the entrance. A pair of dining tables sat in a far corner, while the remaining corner housed a small kitchen and pantry. Rounding out the room was another bulkhead door, situated across from the lobby entrance and shut tight for the evening, with a rack of keys on the wall next to the door.

    "Welcome to the Weatherly. Mister Buckingham at your service!" the bot exclaimed, an odd sight in its bow tie and bowler hat. Delilah stared at the bot in silent wonder, while Bryan held tightly to Altan''s hand.

    "Good evening, Mr. Buckingham. We''re here to see Vera Weatherly," Altan said, gently tugging Bryan forward. "This is her nephew; he needs a place to stay."

    The bot hovered in place for a moment, then spun around and floated toward the lone bulkhead door at the back of the lobby. "Mum, you have visitors." It rapped at the door with the nub where it would usually have a rotary saw. After a few moments, the handwheel on the door slowly spun, and the dogging mechanism disengaged with a muffled grunt from the other side. The door cracked open, revealing a bedraggled woman with blonde hair who poked her head out, blinking tired eyes in the soft light of the lobby.

    She did a double take at the sight of them¡ªheavily armed and exhausted¡ªand quickly pulled her head back in. "Miss Weatherly," Altan called out.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The woman reappeared, stepping fully out this time, clad in slippers and a long bathrobe over her nightgown. She carried a combat shotgun, held at a low ready, and wore a plate carrier over her bathrobe.

    "Good evening and welcome to the Weatherly Hotel. I am your hostess, Vera Weatherly, and I would very much like to know why three heavily armed strangers have come calling for me at this hour of the night."

    Altan blinked at her owlishly before sighing. "This is your nephew, Bryan Wilks. He''s the sole survivor of Greyditch, which was overrun by mutated fire ants created by some jackass with too many smarts and not enough common sense. He needs a place to live¡ªpreferably one with an adult who will care for him." He paused. "Little man''s been through a lot these last few days."

    A tense moment passed, then Vera¡¯s eyes widened. She lowered the shotgun, letting it dangle across her chest, and quickly moved toward Bryan, dropping to her knees to meet him at eye level.

    "Oh, poor dear," she murmured, her voice softening. "I know what it¡¯s like to be alone. I¡¯d be honored to take you in." She looked up at Altan, her gaze steady as she gently clasped Bryan''s hands in her own. "Don''t worry. I have everything I need to keep him fed, healthy, and, most importantly, safe."

    Altan eyed the dangling shotgun with a chuckle. "Yeah. I can see that."

    Vera flushed slightly, standing up and ushering them toward one of the dining tables. "Out here, everyone has the right to defend themselves¡ªman or woman." She sat Bryan at the table, fussing over him, gently taking the Chinese assault rifle from his hands and setting it on a nearby table.

    "Come, sit down. I''ll have Buckingham set out some snacks, on the house." Altan and Delilah let out relieved sighs. Altan sat Delilah across from Bryan, then took a seat next to her.

    As Buckingham floated over to the pantry, rifling through it with mechanical precision, Vera sat next to Bryan, her gaze shifting between him and the others. "Now, tell me everything. Starting with why my nephew was carrying an assault rifle."

    Altan gestured toward Bryan. "He was exercising his right to defend himself. Anyway, we¡ª" He cut off as Delilah tugged at his arm.

    "You should let Bryan explain," she said, her voice drowsy. "We did a lot of cool and scary stuff, but you''ll just explain it all boring-like."

    Altan frowned but shrugged. "You''re up, little man."

    An hour flew by as Bryan excitedly recounted the last two days, his voice filled with a mix of awe and adrenaline. He spoke with the unrestrained enthusiasm of a child reliving the adventure of a lifetime, his words tumbling out as he detailed the danger, the excitement, and the people they met along the way. Vera listened intently, her expressions shifting from disbelief to concern, then finally to pride as Bryan spoke. Intermittent breaks for snacks and Altan''s occasional interjections¡ªmostly to clarify or scale down Bryan¡¯s more dramatic embellishments¡ªkept the flow of the conversation grounded. By the time Bryan finished, Vera was visibly moved. She took his hands in hers, giving him a warm, steady look.

    "My goodness, you really have been through it." Vera shook her head, her voice softening. "Well, I can promise you won¡¯t have to deal with giant ants or horrid super mutants while you¡¯re staying with me. That¡¯s a guarantee."

    She shifted her gaze to Altan and Delilah, her eyes softening further when she saw Delilah softly snoring, leaning against Altan. "And you two." Altan met her gaze with tired eyes¡ªbloodshot and tinged red from the concussive blast earlier that day.

    "You risked your lives bringing Bryan to me," she continued, her tone now serious but understanding. "While I don¡¯t appreciate the danger he was in, I can¡¯t blame you. It¡¯s dangerous out there, especially for children. I¡¯ve been fortunate enough to live in Rivet City most of my life, but I still remember how it was before."

    Altan nodded, rubbing his eyes as he let out a tired sigh. "Yeah, I get it. It¡¯s been a long couple of days." He paused, glancing down at Delilah, who was still half-asleep beside him, and then back to Vera. "I¡¯d love to keep chatting, but we really need to find a place to crash for the night. You wouldn''t happen to have any rooms available, would you? We¡¯re a little light on caps, but we¡¯ve got some barter goods we can trade."

    "How long are you planning on staying?"

    "A couple of weeks, probably. That blast messed me up something proper, so the doc told me to take it easy for a week or so, and we''re also here on business."

    "Two weeks, you say?" Vera¡¯s brow furrowed in thought as she tapped her chin. Altan nodded, and she paused for a moment, considering. "Well, I do have rooms available, but since you''ve brought Bryan to me, I refuse to take your caps."

    Altan opened his mouth to protest, but Vera raised a hand to stop him. "Wait here, and I''ll have a room ready for the two of you. While you''re here, you can stay for free¡ªon one condition."

    Altan raised an eyebrow. "One condition?"

    Vera gave him a mischievous smile. "Don''t overstay your welcome, don''t be disruptive, don''t break anything, and make sure you join us for at least one meal a day. My prices are a bit higher than Mr. Staley''s, but I can assure you, the quality''s well worth it."

    Altan snorted, his lips twitching into a wry grin. Delilah stirred awake with a soft whine, rubbing her eyes.

    "That''s how they get ya," Altan muttered. Vera simply smiled, her gaze warm and knowing.

    "If you are good guests," Vera continued, "I''ll give you a discount on your future visits and make sure there''s always a room available for you." She handed her shotgun to Buckingham, who took it and stowed it in her room. Then, she rifled through the key rack next to her bedroom door. "Ah-ha! Come right this way."

    Altan shook Delilah, who had drifted back to sleep, and the pair sluggishly followed Vera down the hall, their shoulders slumped, feet dragging. The woman cheerfully explained the details of their room as they walked. "This is one of my premium rooms. Normally, I charge one hundred and twenty caps per night, but as I said, you don''t need to worry about that while you''re here. For future stays, I''ll only charge you one hundred caps."

    Altan mumbled a tired "Much obliged," and Vera continued, undeterred. "Your room is equipped with a large bed, a table for two, a dresser, and a footlocker. If you need a cot, just let me know." Altan nodded, and she pressed on. "There''s also a small fridge and a working television, though you''ll need to bring your own holotapes or rent them from me." She flashed a dazzling smile before unlocking the door with a large key, which she handed to Altan. "I hope you enjoy your stay." She yawned, daintily covering her mouth, and with a final wave, bid them farewell.

    Delilah stumbled over to the bed, slowly shedding her gear as Altan shut the door behind them. As she collapsed on the bed, Altan quietly dropped his rucksack by the foot of the bed, and piled his and Delilah''s gear in and around the footlocker. He sat on the bed next to his sister, intending to rest his feet for just a moment.

    Around him, the quiet creak of the ship echoed softly, like a lullaby meant only for weary travelers.

 11 - Sister

    Delilah stirred, slowly rousing from a sleep so deep it felt like days had passed. The bed beneath her was softer and warmer than anything she could ever remember, making it hard to leave. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the unfamiliar room, and her heart jumped before she caught sight of her brother.

    Altan sat at the edge of the bed, broad-backed and monolithic, his head hanging forward, chin resting on his chest. His posture was heavy, unmoving¡ªhe was still out cold.

    ¡°G¡¯mornin¡¯, bro,¡± she muttered, more out of habit than expectation of a reply. With a groan, she dragged herself out from under the covers, the chill of the room biting her skin as she shuffled toward the footlocker at the end of the bed.

    She opened it and began rummaging through her gear, pulling out pieces one by one, laying them on the bed with quiet clinks and thuds. The routine settled her nerves, grounding her in the reality of the situation.

    As she turned, her eyes landed on a mini fridge tucked beside a table in the corner of the room. The thought of cold water¡ªor maybe even something better¡ªcrossed her mind. She paused, glancing back at Altan. He hadn¡¯t moved a muscle, still slumped forward like a statue.

    Her lips quirked into a mischievous grin as she moved toward the fridge, her steps light.

    "I''m gonna have Nuka Cola for breakfast," she quietly sung, and cracked open the fridge. Sure enough, several glass bottles of fizzy cola goodness were nestled in there alongside other beverages of the adult variety. She avoided those, still remembering the sour taste and burn of the bourbon she''d snuck into on her tenth birthday.

    Bottle in hand, she returned to the footlocker. Altan was still slumped over, and she paused for a moment, trying to figure out how best to wake him. "Altan?" Delilah called softly. No response. She grabbed his arm and shook it, a grin spreading across her face as he groaned in protest. "Come on, bro! Time to face the world."

    "Lily," he mumbled groggily. "Shut up."

    "Nope!" she chirped, climbing onto the bed and shaking him harder. He groaned, finally cracking his eyes open. "I''m up, I''m up. What time is it?"

    She checked her Pip-Boy and grimaced. "A little after noon."

    Altan nodded, stretching with a loud groan as he stood. Delilah winced at the sharp pops from his back and joints, loud enough to remind her of his rifle on full auto.

    Satisfied with the stretch, Altan turned to her. "Alright. Let¡¯s get moving. Restroom, shower, then food. Sound good?"

    Delilah nodded, sliding off the bed. That¡¯s when Altan noticed the sweating bottle of cola in her hand.

    "Where''d you get that?"

    Delilah flushed and quickly hid the bottle behind her back. "It was in the mini-fridge. I wasn''t gonna have cola for breakfast, I swear!"

    Altan chuckled. "Alright, alright. Put it back. We¡¯ll have some later." Delilah¡¯s eyes lit up as she returned the cola to the fridge. They rummaged through their packs for a change of clothes¡ªanother set of fatigues for Altan, and a sleeveless dress with her lab coat for Delilah.

    A patrolling security officer pointed them in the right direction, and after completing their ablutions, they returned to the Upper Deck, clean, refreshed, and with gurgling stomachs.

    "Go ahead and find us a seat," Altan told Delilah as they neared their hotel room. "I¡¯m gonna grab our caps and join you."

    Delilah nodded and darted off, humming happily as she went. Altan watched her go, shaking his head and smiling, before ducking into their room and rummaging around for his caps. Deciding to forgo his combat gear for the day, he slipped on his holster belt, securing his sidearms and medical kit, and tossed their caps purse up and down as he locked the door behind him.

    "Gonna have to find some work while we¡¯re here," Altan muttered to himself. "Maybe¡ª" His hand brushed the grip of his laser pistol as he stepped into the hotel lobby, his thoughts interrupted by the chaos within.

    "-and you''re a creep! A pervert! A weirdo! Just you wait until my brother gets here, he''s gonna kick your ass!" Delilah¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and furious. She stood defiantly before a hulking, drunken man whose half-eaten lunch and empty liquor bottles lay scattered around him. He sputtered and slurred a reply, his face a blotchy mix of frustration and intoxication.

    Behind her, Vera attempted to calm the situation, speaking in soft, placating tones. The other guests watched with a mix of amusement and disgust, the latter clearly aimed at the man.

    One of Buckingham''s eye-stalks perked up at Altan''s arrival, and the bot floated over to the inebriated man, rotating so that its flamethrower arm was conveniently aimed in his direction. "Mr. Sister, sir, I believe you have overstayed your welcome. Please leave, or I shall have no choice but to summon security."

    Delilah gasped when she heard the man''s name. "Your name is Sister? Sister?¡± She snorted, crossing her arms. "No wonder you''re such a creep." She took a step closer, her voice rising. "And guess what? You reek! When was the last time you took a bath¡ªwhen it rained?!"

    Her tirade was cut short by the sharp crack of a glass bottle hitting her face, thrown with drunken anger by the man she''d pushed too far.

    In that instant, Altan, coiled with tension from the last few days, didn''t hesitate. He raised his laser pistol and fired twice into Sister''s chest, then once into his head. The man''s body jerked with every impact, and he slumped lifelessly into his chair.

    The lobby went quiet, save for Delilah¡¯s pained cries. Altan stood motionless, his expression hard as the weight of what he¡¯d just done settled over him.

    He holstered the pistol with slow, deliberate movements. Altan¡¯s gaze shifted to Delilah, seeing the blood trickling through her fingers as she clutched her forehead.

    His voice was steady, though his eyes darkened with concern. ¡°Lily, let me see it.¡±

    She hesitated, then slowly lowered her hands, revealing a large bump swelling on her forehead where the bottle had struck her. There was a small trickle of blood, but the bruise was already starting to darken. Altan¡¯s expression hardened as he kneeled in front of her, gently guiding her hands away from the injury. His fingers moved quickly over the bump, checking for any other signs of damage.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    ¡°You''re fine, Lily,¡± he muttered, his voice calm but tense. He reached behind him, unzipping the medical kit on his belt with practiced ease. He pulled out a clean cloth and a small vial of antiseptic, his movements swift and sure. ¡°This is gonna sting, but we need to stop the bleeding and keep the swelling down.¡±

    Delilah winced as he dabbed the antiseptic on the bump, her eyes watering slightly. She bit her lip to stifle a cry, but Altan¡¯s touch remained steady, firm yet gentle. He wrapped the cloth around her forehead to hold the swelling in place, securing it with a few quick knots.

    ¡°There,¡± he said quietly, his hands stilling as he checked the makeshift bandage. ¡°That¡¯ll hold for now. Just keep it on, alright? Get some ice on it, too.¡±

    Delilah nodded, though she looked up at him with a mix of gratitude and discomfort. ¡°Thanks¡­¡±

    Altan didn¡¯t respond right away, his gaze flicking toward the door. The muffled sound of approaching footsteps broke the tense silence, and the clatter of armor echoed through the lobby. ¡°I''m gonna go with the guards when they arrive, okay?¡±

    Rivet City security arrived before she could respond, their boots clanging against the floor as they entered, weapons at the ready. Altan stood, his eyes meeting Delilah¡¯s one last time before turning to face the officers. "You''re looking for me. Here.¡± He removed his belt, calmly surrendering it, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a heavy stone. He could feel Delilah¡¯s gaze on him, but he didn¡¯t allow himself to glance back. There was nothing more to say.

    With a resigned sigh, Altan allowed himself to be led away. The walk was quiet, and before long, Altan found himself in a holding cell surrounded by drunks sleeping it off. The only sober occupant was a scantily clad young woman, probably a few years older than him. She ignored him at first, but eventually, curiosity and boredom got the best of her. She cleared her throat.

    "So, uh, what are you in here for?"

    Altan glanced over at her, his tone flat. "You first."

    She frowned, paused for a moment, then grinned teasingly. "Prostitution." When Altan didn¡¯t respond, she sighed and leaned back. "No, really. I¡¯m a hooker. They charged me with that, but the truth is, I got caught banging the husband of some Upper Deck broad.¡±

    Altan nodded, his voice steady. "I just killed a man."

    The woman¡¯s eyes widened, and he gave a faint, hollow chuckle. "He threw a bottle at my sister."

    "That¡¯s... a bit of an overreaction," she murmured, her tone softening.

    "Maybe. But I¡¯ve had a hell of a week¡ªactually, two weeks. Lily¡ªthat¡¯s my sister¡ªis more important to me than anything else in this world. You¡¯ll find me dead before I let anyone hurt her without consequences."

    The woman fell silent, then raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. I get it." They sat quietly for a moment, and then she spoke again, her voice warmer now. "It¡¯s kinda sweet, though." She smiled faintly. "I¡¯m Mary. No last name."

    Altan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Altan Cooke. Pleased to meet you, Mary."

    Mary¡¯s lips curved into a playful smile. "Well, aren¡¯t you polite? If we get out of here, you should come find me in the lower decks. The Muddy Rudder¡¯s where I hang out. I could show you a good time."

    Altan let out a short laugh and pulled his shirt off. Mary¡¯s eyes flicked to the shirt, then back to him, a surprised look flashing across her face. "Right here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I''m flattered, but¡ª"

    Altan cut her off, tossing the shirt her way. "Put that on. You¡¯re indecent.¡±

    Mary raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t protest. She shrugged the shirt on and pulled her legs up underneath it, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

    "Alright, alright, I hear you," she said with a smirk. "Guess you¡¯ll just have to track me down if you want it back." Her grin softened a little, and she added more quietly, "But seriously... thanks. It gets a little nippy down here.¡±

    Some time passed in silence until a stern-looking woman entered the brig, flanked by two guards. She addressed Mary first. "How many times must we have this conversation, Mary?" The younger woman flinched and lowered her gaze to the floor.

    The stern woman continued, her tone laced with frustration. "You''re skating on thin ice. Mrs. Harrington has a lot of influence¡ª" She muttered something venomous under her breath, "-and even if her husband¡¯s mostly to blame for seeking you out, you should¡¯ve known better than to get involved with yet another married man." She paused, exhaling sharply. "You''re free to go. But try to make smarter choices, alright? If I have to deal with this again, you¡¯ll be off the ship. Understood?"

    Mary¡¯s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but a stern look from the woman silenced her. "Yes, ma''am. I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am," she mumbled, her voice laced with shame.

    The woman turned her gaze to Altan, her eyes unwavering. He met her stare without flinching. "And you," she continued, her voice firm. "I¡¯m Chief Danvers, head of Rivet City Security. Earlier today, you shot and killed a man. Is that correct?"

    Altan nodded. "You''re missing some context, but yeah, that''s the shape of it."

    Danvers'' expression hardened at his nonchalant tone. "Enlighten me, then. What context am I missing?"

    Altan¡¯s eyes darkened, his voice steady but edged with anger. "The bastard pissed off my little sister, then hit her in the head with a bottle after she gave him a piece of her mind. I reacted." He let the silence stretch before continuing, his tone turning more controlled. "Was it an overreaction? Maybe. But I¡¯ve spent the last two weeks shooting, getting shot at, and barely holding it together. A day ago, a super mutant threw me into a car with a missile launcher and almost killed me. And then I get here, to this ¡®bastion of law and order,¡¯ and some jackass thinks it¡¯s okay to throw a bottle at my sister for calling him out?" He paused, his breath coming heavier now, the tension in the air thick. He took a moment to compose himself, trying to rein in the fury simmering just beneath the surface.

    ¡°Two weeks of hell,¡± Altan muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Danvers. ¡°Two weeks of keeping her safe, and this is what it comes to.¡± He exhaled sharply, meeting her gaze with quiet intensity. ¡°Yeah, it was an overreaction. I¡¯ll take full responsibility for my actions. But Lil¡ªDelilah, my sister¡ªshe¡¯s innocent in this. She¡¯s a good girl, a hard worker, and smarter than anyone gives her credit for¡ªeven me. Especially me. Whatever punishment you have in mind for me, just leave her out of it.¡±

    Danvers arched an eyebrow, then let out a sigh. ¡°No need to be so melodramatic, Mr. Cooke. You¡¯ve been cleared, thanks to witness accounts and, shall we say, extraneous circumstances. But make no mistake. You and your sister are on thin ice.¡± She paused, her gaze sharpening as she met his eyes. ¡°I expect nothing less than the best behavior from you both going forward.¡±

    Altan blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, Danvers leaned in, fixing him with a stern glare. ¡°You may not understand the uniqueness of your situation, Mr. Cooke, but if your target had been anyone else on this ship, you''d be floating facedown in the Potomac by now. We do not tolerate murderers on this vessel. Do you understand?¡±

    Altan nodded, and Danvers continued. "Good. Keep your head down, and we should have no further issues. Now, Corporal," she motioned toward the holding cell door, and the guard to her right stepped forward, unlocking it with an ancient, blocky key.

    Altan stepped out, followed closely by Mary. As they were escorted through the brig, Mary spoke up quietly. "Hey, uh... you mind if I come with you?"

    Altan glanced back at her, noticing the way she wrung her hands. A smirk tugged at his lips. "That eager to give me my shirt back, huh?"

    She flushed, averting her eyes. "Maybe. But, seriously. I¡¯ve got a bit of a... reputation on this boat. You seem like an alright guy, and it''d be nice to hang out with someone who doesn¡¯t expect anything from me."

    "And how do you know I don¡¯t?"

    She paused, meeting his gaze. "I¡¯ve been doing this since I was fourteen. Trust me, I know. And honestly? I¡¯m not looking for anything complicated. Just someone to talk to for once."

    Altan blanched, "Fourteen? Shit."

    She smiled softly, voice quiet. "Yeah. Wasteland doesn¡¯t care how old you are. You learn quick how to survive."

    Altan went quiet, then nodded. "Alright. You got anything else to wear, though? I don¡¯t want to give anyone the wrong idea, least of all Lily. I¡¯d never hear the end of it."

    Mary laughed, her demeanor lightening. "Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve got that covered. C''mon, I''ll show you where my room is.¡±

 12 - Crisps for Dinner

    Altan stood outside the room Mary had led him to, then slipped inside with a quiet, ¡°Wait here.¡± The few people passing in the narrow corridor hurried past, likely put off by his crossed arms, gun belt, and the flat, watchful expression he wore. Perhaps they suspected he was some kind of enforcer. Whatever the reason, Altan didn¡¯t care¡ªhe just wanted his shirt back.

    "Sorry for the wait. I had to freshen up¡ªI was, uh, caught in the act," Mary said, her cheeks tinged pink as she poked her head out. She extended a balled-up shirt toward Altan. "Oh, and you probably don''t want to wear that right now. Just saying."

    Altan frowned but slid the shirt into his belt without comment. "Duly noted. Are you ready to go? I''m starving."

    Mary stepped out, wearing a belted pink dress so tattered and patched it was more repair than original fabric. A floral scarf hung loosely around her neck, and she topped it off with a sleeveless gray vest. "Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on," she said with a laugh. "I could go for a bite. The rich johnnies like their girls skinny, so I usually just skip meals when I''m working one. Let''s get moving."

    "Right. I''m sure Lily is waiting to give me an earful. Best to get it over with," Altan said with a sigh. He added softly, almost to himself, "Carry each other''s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ."

    Beside him, Mary glanced up. "You the religious type?"

    Altan shook his head. "No. Maybe. Probably not. But there''s wisdom in the Good Book¡ªif you know where to look."

    "Oh yeah? Like what?" Mary asked, her tone curious but lightly teasing.

    He shrugged. "Plenty of stuff. More than I¡¯ve got time to list. Love, compassion, humility, justice, faith, living morally, looking out for others¡ªyou know, the basics. Common sense, really, but it¡¯s nice to have something to point to sometimes."

    "Common sense?" Mary echoed under her breath. Shaking her head, she gestured to the stairwell ahead as they approached. "Well, you¡¯re up. I¡¯ll follow."

    Altan led the way, his grin wry. "Hope you like stairs. We¡¯re heading to the Upper Deck. Weatherly Hotel."

    Mary hesitated, gripping the railing a little tighter. She¡¯d been arrested here just the day before. "Ah. Maybe this isn¡¯t such a good idea."

    "Maybe," Altan said, glancing back at her. After a beat, she sighed and followed him.

    "So, what¡¯s your favorite, um, part of the ''good book''?"

    "The Bible. And that¡¯s hard to say. I could share a few verses, if you¡¯re willing to hear them."

    Mary shrugged. "If you can talk and walk at the same time, be my guest. I fucking hate these stairs," she muttered, glancing upward.

    Altan chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. Anyway¡­" He paused, then let out a quiet "Ah." He waited for her to reach the landing before continuing. "The first book of Timothy, fifth chapter, verse eight: ''Anyone who does not provide for their relatives, and especially for their own household, has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.'' It instructs me to be a good brother, son, and perhaps one day, husband."

    Mary smirked. "Perhaps one day, eh? So you¡¯re saying there¡¯s no missus in your life right now?"

    Altan chuckled. "There¡¯s only one girl in my life at the moment, and she¡¯s enough of a handful as it is."

    Mary laughed. "I can¡¯t wait to meet her. Assuming there isn¡¯t a mob waiting for me with pitchforks and torches," she added, her chuckle nervous.

    "We¡¯ll see." Altan reached another landing and paused. Mary stopped to catch her breath as she caught up. "How can you take all these stairs so casually?" she asked, gesturing at the half dozen flights they¡¯d climbed so far.

    "First book of Corinthians, ninth chapter, twenty-seventh verse: ''I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave, so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.'' Discipline and integrity, across all facets of myself, are vital." When she stared at him, he sighed. "I eat right and exercise every day. Being out in the wasteland has thrown a bit of a wrench in that, but I¡¯ve found that running, gunning, and carrying everything I own has proven a sufficient replacement for my usual exercise regimen."

    "And the eating right part?"

    Altan barked out a laugh. "I have a teenage sister. Most of what I don¡¯t spend on bullets and plates goes toward food."

    The rest of their climb was spent in idle conversation, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. Altan asked about life in Rivet City, and Mary teased him about his knack for trouble. Between laughs and occasional pauses to catch their breath, the climb felt less like a chore and more like a welcome distraction. When they reached the Upper Deck landing and stopped to catch their breath, Mary nudged Altan. "Alright, big guy. I''m gonna stay behind you, if you don''t mind."

    The Weatherly Hotel¡¯s lobby was quiet, the polished floors creaking underfoot as Altan entered. A faint smell of roasted Brahmin lingered from the nearby kitchen. Delilah lay sprawled on a faded couch, her head resting on a threadbare pillow, a light blanket pulled snugly around her. Altan let out a quiet sigh of relief, smiling at the sight, then sheepishly turned his attention to Vera Weatherly, who had paused in the midst of giving Buckingham orders.

    "Well, if it isn¡¯t my most troublesome guest." Vera crossed her arms. "Do you realize the mess you¡¯ve made?"

    Altan rubbed the back of his head. "I don''t, but if you''ll allow me, I''d like to understand and make it up to you."

    Vera huffed and started ticking off on her fingers. "''Understand,'' he says. Well, for one, people are messy when they die. You should know that already. I lost almost a quarter of my daily sales because I had to shut down and sanitize the lobby. I¡¯ve lost Sister''s patronage and rent, and last but not least, my hotel now has a murder attached to it."If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Altan nodded, gesturing toward Delilah. "I''ll make it up to you, I promise. How''s Lily holding up?"

    A brief smile flit across Vera¡¯s face as she glanced at the sleeping girl. ¡°She''s fine. A little rattled, but she''s one tough cookie. She even helped with the cleanup.¡±

    Altan smiled. "Yeah, that''s my Lily. So," he turned to Vera, "What do I owe you?"

    Vera pointed a finger at him. "Ooh, the nerve of you. If you were anyone else, *anyone* else, I''d kick your ass the the curb and be done with it. But," she sighed, glancing at her bedroom door, "You risked your life to bring Bryan to me, and that man you killed was a cheapskate, a brute, and an absolute pig who was only worth as much as he spent." She paused. "And I suppose your shooting of him could be described as self-defense, of you squint."

    Altan stood silently, so she continued, clapping her hands together. "So. You owe me two hundred and thirty-seven caps, which I expect to be paid in full by the end of the week. That''s for the cost of cleaning supplies and labor, which I¡¯ve heavily discounted thanks to Delilah''s help, and of course Sister''s tab. He hadn¡¯t paid for those bottles or his meal yet. Also," she added, cutting Altan off before he could speak, "You will be having at least two meals here per day. In the lobby, not your room."

    Altan nodded. "Sure thing. Why the lobby, though?" He asked, raising his hands as Vera fixed him with a stern glare. "Not complaining, merely curious."

    Vera smirked. "Well, you know the Upper Deck is where the wealthier residents of Rivet City live. And of course, they get bored. You, for better or worse," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "are the most exciting thing that''s happened on this ship in a while. People are going to want to meet you, pick your brain, or even just sit and stare from a distance.¡±

    Altan chuckled. "Ah. I think I see where this is going. Alright, you have yourself a deal. I''ll be sure to keep ''em coming back, okay? And, uh, thanks."

    Vera sighed, crouching next to Delilah and gently shaking her awake. "Well, I couldn''t just throw you out. I¡¯m a woman of my word, and I shudder to think of the accommodations this sweet girl would find herself in otherwise."

    Delilah stirred awake, blinking her eyes. "Hi, Miss Vera," she sleepily mumbled. "Is my brother back yet?"

    Vera smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of the girl''s face. "He''s just over there, sweetie. I''m done yelling at him, so I¡¯m releasing him into your care.¡±

    Delilah giggled and sat up, folding her blanket and placing it atop her pillow before turning to face Altan. She stared for a moment, then pointed at Mary, who was peeking out from behind Altan. "Who''s that?"

    Vera¡¯s eyes widened as Mary stepped into view, her expression flickering between surprise and something harder to place. "Well, this just got interesting," Vera muttered under her breath.

    Mary flinched at the remark but stepped forward, offering her hand to the teen. "Hi, I''m Mary. I met your brother in jail," she said, trying to keep a straight face before giggling.

    Altan sighed and knelt before Delilah. "Hey, Lily. I''m sorry for this morning. I overreacted and almost messed things up for us, big time. I''m going to do better. Can you forgive me?"

    Delilah frowned, then hugged him. "Of course I forgive you, you big dork. But I was so scared! I thought..." She trembled, memories of baton strikes, angry shouts and gunshots resurfacing. "I... I thought I''d never get to see you again," she sobbed into his shoulder.

    Altan sighed and wrapped his arms around her, softly cooing reassurances in her ear.

    Delilah cried until the sobs subsided, then pulled away, wiping her face with Altan''s tank top. She crossed her arms tightly, attempting to regain some composure. "You made a lot of trouble for me today, bro. So, I''ve decided," she faltered, a nervous tremble in her voice, "I''m having crisps and cola for dinner."

    Altan narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. "Fuck it, me too." As Delilah stared at him, wide-eyed, silently mouthing "It worked?" to herself, Altan stood. He turned to Vera, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and held it out. "Two hundred and thirty-seven caps?"

    Vera¡¯s eyes widened as she unfolded the paper and read the tally on it. "Goodness me. Bryan truly wasn''t making that up, was he?"

    Altan shrugged. "It was with my belt when I grabbed it on the way out of the brig. Seven super mutants and their armaments¡ªthe Marines who brought us back verified it. I don¡¯t really know how this stuff works, but I trust you won¡¯t screw me over. Think that''ll cover us for the rest of our stay?"

    Vera glanced at the note, muttering to herself as she counted on her fingers before nodding. "This is a Mark, a type of fiat currency we use here in Rivet City. Assuming you don¡¯t go overboard or cause any more incidents in my hotel, this should more than cover your stay. You¡¯ll even have over half left, which you can cash out into caps when you leave."

    Altan nodded. "Great. A quarter of that goes to Bryan¡ªhe earned it in that fight. As for the rest? I promised Lily crisps and cola for dinner, and I was thinking we could rent a couple of movies to go with it.¡±

    Delilah cheered, and Vera shook her head, tucking the paper into her blouse. "Alright. I''ll have those out to you shortly. You¡¯re welcome to enjoy them in your room, but your presence in my dining room will be required starting tomorrow."

    Altan chuckled, then turned toward the entrance, where Delilah stood, arms crossed and eyeing Mary with suspicion. "You never did tell me who she is, bro.¡±

    Altan smiled at Delilah''s skepticism but kept his tone light. He glanced back at Mary, who was standing near the door, clearly aware of Delilah¡¯s sharp gaze.

    "Right. You know each other''s names already, but¡ªDelilah, Mary. Mary, Delilah." Altan grinned as he ruffled Delilah¡¯s hair. "This munchkin," he said, giving her a playful noogie, "is my little sister. She''s a lot smarter than I am." Delilah squealed and wriggled out of his grasp, giving Altan a playful shove.

    "And Lily," Altan continued, turning to Mary, "this is Mary. I met her in the holding cell, and we had a chat. She''s going to hang out with us for a bit, if you''re okay with that."

    Delilah studied Mary for a moment, her hand on her chin, before nodding curtly. "Fine. But you better remember this, lady. I''m Altan''s best and favorite little sister, and I''m watching you!" She shot Mary a mock-serious look, but the playful glint in her eye made it clear she was just teasing.

    Altan sighed, and Mary giggled, soon followed by Delilah. Mary knelt down before Delilah and took one of her hands. "I solemnly swear that I won¡¯t take your brother away from you," she said with a wink. She glanced at Altan and smirked. "He''s not interested in me anyway. That man only has eyes for you."

    Delilah nodded solemnly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "And don¡¯t you forget it!" She grabbed Mary¡¯s hand and pulled her to her feet. "C¡¯mon, I¡¯ll show you our room! It has a tiny fridge!" With a giggle, she took off running, dragging Mary along behind her.

    Altan watched the scene with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.

    "Here you are, Mr. Cooke." Vera approached, a tray laden with a pair of holotapes, snack packages and several large bags of crisps in one hand, and a pail filled with ice and half a dozen bottles of Nuka-Cola in the other. As she handed them over, she glanced at the door and murmured to Altan, "I don''t mean to pry, and I certainly don''t want to police who you spend time with, but it would weigh on my conscience if I didn¡¯t warn you¡ª that girl is trouble."

    Altan nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, she told me as much when we met. Not that I¡¯m looking for that kind of trouble," he added, with a wry smile.

    Vera sighed and shook her head. "Well, whatever your reason is for keeping her around, just make sure you keep your door partially open while she¡¯s with you. I don¡¯t want anyone getting the wrong idea."

    Altan nodded, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment. "I¡¯ll do that. Thanks for the advice."

    As he entered the hall, hearing Delilah¡¯s excited, one-sided conversation, he couldn¡¯t help but smile. He was about to have crisps for dinner.

 13 - Without Sin

    Mary jolted awake, her heart racing as she looked around the unfamiliar room. Panic gripped her chest as she scrambled to sit up, eyes darting around. The bed, the walls¡ªeverything felt wrong. She quickly threw the covers off, her breath quickening, but the anxiety slowly ebbed away when she realized she was still fully clothed. Aside from the usual sleep-induced griminess, there was no sign of anything amiss. "He didn''t," she whispered, her voice shaky. "He wouldn''t." She collapsed onto her elbows, a wave of relief washing over her.

    Then, Delilah''s sleepy voice drifted through the quiet room.

    "What are you talking about?"

    Mary jumped, her pulse racing again. She turned to see Delilah, comfortably wrapped in her brother''s arm, using it as a pillow. Delilah¡¯s half-lidded eyes peered up at her.

    Mary''s cheeks flushed bright pink. She stammered, trying to mask her unease. "N-nothing. Just... being silly."

    Delilah gave a sleepy shrug and closed her eyes again. "''Kay. I''m goin'' back to sleep."

    Mary lay back, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts raced. The events of the previous evening replayed in her mind. Dinner had been a mix of crisps, cola, and a variety of junk foods, accompanied by the movies Vera had provided. The Adventures of Sparky and the Moonstone, a lighthearted children''s film about a brave little dog on a quest for a legendary gem, and Echoes of the Steel Heart, a gritty noir thriller about a hard-boiled detective in the industrial city of "Pittsburgh." The evening had started off awkward and uncertain, but it had ended on a surprisingly pleasant note.

    Nothing extraordinary had happened¡ªshe simply sat beside the siblings, watching the films while Altan fell into a heavy sleep and Delilah chattered on like a fountain. The girl had a lot of stories¡ªwild ones about fire-breathing mutant ants, raiders, super mutants¡ªand while Mary didn¡¯t doubt the embellishments, the carefully chosen words convinced her the tales were based in some truth.

    And then, of course, there was the discovery that they both came from a Vault.

    Mary''s gaze shifted to Altan, his chest rising and falling steadily in the quiet room. His exotic appearance made more sense now, though. She¡¯d seen pictures in ancient books¡ªpeople from faraway lands¡ªand his features seemed like a fusion of Mediterranean warmth and Central European sharpness, topped off with the kind of rugged handsomeness that could belong to a Greek god. A small blush crept up her cheeks, and she bit her lip, remembering her earlier offer to "show him a good time."

    Her attention shifted back to Delilah, who was sound asleep, her face now resting on her brother¡¯s chest, her brown hair braided loosely and tucked across him like a child seeking comfort. Despite their shared features, Delilah''s face was soft, her presence oddly soothing.

    Mary glanced at her own reflection in the mirror by the bed. She wasn¡¯t like them. She was pasty from the Bottoms, her hair frizzy and unkempt, the weight of her past etched into her short, lean frame. She frowned, a sense of unease tightening in her chest. Things were better now, but as she looked at the siblings beside her, the contrast made her wonder if that was the truth of it.

    With a quiet sigh, she stood up, stretching her stiff limbs. Carefully, she tiptoed around the clutter of battle gear piled in the open footlocker and slipped out of the room.

    Mary paused by the Weatherly lobby, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was still early morning, the quiet of the space only interrupted by the soft hum of a Mr. Handy as it floated about, its feather duster sweeping the air and its broom gently brushing the floor.

    "Um, excuse me, Mr. Robot?" Mary called out softly.

    The robot halted mid-motion, its mechanical eye-stalk swiveling toward her. "Yes, madame? How may I assist you?"

    "Could you help me write a message? I¡ª" Mary paused, uncertain. What had gotten into her? The thought caught her off guard. She shook her head, slapping her cheeks a few times to fully wake herself up. The robot hovered silently, seemingly accustomed to the strange behavior of late-night guests.

    "I¡ªI don''t write very well," she admitted, a bit embarrassed. "So, I''d really appreciate it if you could help me craft a note to thank the Cooke siblings for sharing their evening with me."

    The Mr. Handy bobbed in place, its eye-stalk focusing on her. "Please recite your message, and I will print it out for you."

    Mary hesitated for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Thank you for sharing your evening with me. I really enjoyed the crisps, the cola, and the movies. I had a wonderful time, and I hope to see both of you again soon. Warmest regards, Mary¡ªno last name."

    She glanced at the robot, which let out a soft whir. A small compartment on the side of its bulbous head slid open, and a slip of paper was ejected. The robot used its pincer to retrieve the note and handed it to her.

    "Will that be all, madame?"

    Mary shook her head. "No, thank you, Mr. Robot."You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Mary quietly slipped her note into the Cookes'' room and padded back to the stair tower. Her heart was heavy as she prepared herself for the journey back into the Bottoms, where everything she wanted to leave behind awaited her. As she descended, the gradual decline in the quality of maintenance¡ªpeeling paint, flickering lights, and the smell of mold¡ªonly seemed to amplify the sense of dread that gnawed at her. That familiar panic, the same one that had gripped her upon waking, tightened around her chest once more. She paused at a landing to catch her breath, but it wouldn''t come. Was she really going back?

    The truth hit her like a blow to the gut. She wasn¡¯t just returning to the Bottoms¡ªshe was returning to the life she had chosen. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on her, suffocating her.

    She recalled one of the verses Altan had shared with her the day before. The words had struck her in a way she couldn¡¯t explain, something in them resonating deeper than she''d ever thought possible. It was from a book, she remembered, a chapter, some verse¡ªwell, that didn¡¯t matter now. The verse itself, however, spilled out from her between quick, shallow breaths, its meaning more piercing now than ever before: ¡°¡®So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.¡¯¡±

    And like that, something in her broke. All the years of regret, of self-loathing, of numbing herself with chemicals and cheap distractions¡ªeverything she''d tried to bury with each passing day¡ªcame rushing to the surface. She staggered over to a ratty old chair in the corner, its fabric damp with something she didn''t want to think about, and collapsed into it. The tears came like a flood, too much for her to hold back any longer.

    She wailed, sobbed, and shook with the weight of everything she had been carrying for so long. Grief, pain, anger¡ªall of it poured out of her in a torrent, raw and unrelenting. The world around her seemed to fade as the floodgates opened wide. For a moment, she let herself feel it all¡ªevery ounce of the years she¡¯d spent selling herself, trying to survive, pretending she was okay when she wasn¡¯t. The sobs wracked her body until there was nothing left.

    She didn''t care what anyone thought. Let them think she was on some bad chem bender¡ªit didn¡¯t matter. Not anymore.

    It was only when a harried Rivet City security officer appeared, a syringe of naloxone in hand, that she finally stopped. The woman seemed momentarily confused when Mary threw herself into her arms in a desperate hug, but after a brief hesitation, the guard awkwardly returned it. It was the first human connection Mary''d had in... God, how long? The officer patted her back, unsure but there, and in that moment, Mary realized she didn¡¯t want to go back. She couldn¡¯t. Not after everything. She was done.

    "Hon, you alright?" The officer asked, a mix of confusion and concern in her voice. Mary nodded, hastily wiping her face on the hem of her skirt.

    "Y-yes, ma''am, I''m fine." She smiled. "I think I''m the most fine I''ve ever been, actually." And it was true. For all the weight of what she planned to do, a much greater weight had fallen off her shoulders.

    The officer stepped back, stowing the naloxone syringe in her emergency kit. ¡°Well, if you say so.¡±

    Mary raised her hands quickly. "Wait! I¡ª I need to get my stuff. Could you help me?"

    "Are you in danger, ma''am?" The officer''s hand hovered near the baton at her belt.

    Mary shook her head. "No. Probably not. I don''t think so. I..." She hesitated, then shrugged, no point in hiding it. "I''m just tired of being a whore, ma''am. I¡¯m moving my stuff out of the Bottoms. I¡¯m just afraid that if I go down there alone, I¡¯ll lose my nerve."

    The officer nodded and gestured to the stairs. "Well, I¡¯ve come this far. I¡¯ll escort you. Just make it quick¡ªI don''t want the shift commander riding my ass for missing my patrol."

    Mary nodded, the smile on her face so wide it almost hurt, and eagerly led the officer down until they reached the room she shared with several of her... coworkers. With the officer¡¯s help, she quickly packed a few mementos, her caps pouch, and the few outfits she owned that weren¡¯t work-related into her laundry bag. Without looking back, she left the room¡ªhopefully for good.

    The journey up was mostly quiet, with the security officer asking only where Mary wanted to go. Soon, Mary found herself outside Father Clifford''s church, dedicated to Saint Monica. She had been here a handful of times, but never before had she felt like she needed to be here. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, where Father Clifford, the kindly old man who led worship services, was busy sweeping the floors. He looked up from his work, and gave Mary a warm smile.

    Before she could speak, the officer placed a hand on her shoulder. "Take your time," she said quietly, offering a brief, reassuring smile. "This is a good start."

    Mary nodded, feeling the weight of the officer¡¯s words settle in her chest as she made her way toward Father Clifford.

    "Good morning, my child. How can I help?"

    Mary hesitated, clutching her bundle of belongings. "Father Clifford, I... I didn¡¯t know where else to go. I need help."

    He set his broom aside and gestured to a pew. "Mary, yes? You¡¯re always welcome here. Please, sit. What¡¯s troubling you?"

    Mary sat beside him, her eyes downcast as she fiddled with her laundry bag. "I... I¡¯ve been living a life I¡¯m not proud of. But I want to change. I can¡¯t be that person anymore. I¡¯ve hurt people, and I want to do better. I¡¯ve left the Bottoms behind."

    Father Clifford nodded, offering his weathered hand. She took it, her eyes welling up as he gave her a reassuring squeeze. "The first step is the hardest, Mary, but you¡¯ve taken it. Admitting the need for change requires more courage than most know. What made you decide?"

    "I... I met someone yesterday, in the brig. He wasn¡¯t interested in me. He just talked to me, and afterward, he and his little sister let me spend the evening with them. We watched movies and ate junk food. They were so... normal. So strong." She paused, her gaze dropping. "This morning, I looked at myself, and I... I didn¡¯t like what I saw. I¡¯m tired, Father. I can¡¯t keep living like this. So, I¡¯m here."

    Father Clifford reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. She took it with a quiet "Thank you" and dabbed at her eyes. "The road to redemption is never easy, but it¡¯s always worth walking. You won¡¯t be alone on this journey, Mary. Stay here for now. We''ll help you find your way. God¡¯s grace is infinite, and His love is boundless for those who seek it."

    Mary nodded. "Thank you, Father. I don''t know what I''d do without someone like you."

    The old man closed his eyes and smiled, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. "Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God''s will for you in Christ Jesus." He rose, pulling a feather duster from his belt and offering it to her with a warm smile. "If you''d like to thank me, however, you could start by dusting."

    Mary looked up at him, feeling a rare lightness in her chest. "I think I can do that.¡±

 14 - Dr. Li

    A half-empty plate of steak, mashed potatoes, and spicy, fermented cabbage sat in front of Altan, surrounded by several empty plates stacked in a precarious tower. On either side of him, Delilah and Bryan picked at their untouched meals, their eyes distracted by the growing crowd of lunchgoers. The group had slowly gathered, pulling chairs and tables closer, eager to overhear their conversation.

    "Is it true?" one of the patrons¡ªa woman in a lab coat layered over a dark blue dress¡ªasked, her voice cutting through the air and drawing the crowd''s attention to Altan.

    He blinked, momentarily thrown off. "What? You''ll have to pardon me¡ªI got lost in Vera''s cooking. What¡¯s true?"

    The woman gestured toward Delilah, who was clad in her armored Vault suit and Lesko''s old lab coat, her Pip-Boy visible on her wrist. "You''re Vault dwellers? From Vault 101?"

    "We were Vault dwellers, even if my bro doesn''t look the part.¡± Delilah replied, her tone tinged with resignation. "Altan forgot his Pip-Boy when we left, and I doubt they¡¯ll let us back in to retrieve it." The girl shrank into herself, her eyes distant as memories of that chaotic morning resurfaced. "It was bad. The whole Vault was in chaos after Dad left¡ªthe radroaches, a-and the Overseer... he..." She shuddered, her voice faltering. "It was a terrible time."

    Altan wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. "Yeah. That¡¯s acually why we left¡ªand why we came here. We¡¯re searching for our father, James. He looks like us, but more like me¡ª" he playfully nudged Delilah, who shoved him back with a grin. "¡ªand he probably would¡¯ve shown up around two weeks ago, give or take. If any of you have seen him, we¡¯d really appreciate any info."

    An unreadable look flashed across the woman¡¯s face as she stood. "Please wait here. There¡¯s someone who may want to see you." Delilah started to rise, but the woman held her hands up. "I said she may want to see you. Please, wait here."

    "Well, shit," Altan muttered, and Delilah nodded, her eyes flicking to his stack of plates. After eating a few bites of her macaroni and cheese, she slid the bowl over to him. Altan smirked. "Does someone have a tummy ache from eating nothing but junk food for dinner?"

    Delilah flushed, nodding wordlessly. Altan chuckled, dumping the contents of her bowl onto his plate before returning to his meal.

    After a quarter of an hour, the woman returned, accompanied by an older woman in a similar lab coat and dress. The older woman froze at the lobby entrance, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at Altan in shock. "I... It¡¯s you. My heavens, you look so much like him." Her gaze shifted to Delilah, who was fiddling with her Pip-Boy. "And you too. You¡¯re James¡¯s son and daughter. What are the two of you doing here?"

    Altan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "You know my father? Have you seen him?"

    "Well, yes, of course I do. Don¡¯t you know who I am?" The woman scoffed, shaking her head. "I suppose James never told you. Typical." She straightened, her voice softening slightly. "I¡¯m Doctor Madison Li. I worked with your father many years ago. Your mother, too, in fact."

    She paused as the younger woman guided her to a sofa near the dining area and brought over a glass of water. Madison accepted it with a grateful nod, taking a sip before continuing. "You¡¯ll have to forgive me. This has all been very stressful, especially with your father suddenly showing up here after being gone for so long. You have to understand, we... we put all of that behind us. Project Purity, our work, all of it. We¡¯ve moved on, even if your father hasn¡¯t."

    The siblings exchanged a glance, and Delilah spoke up. "Project Purity? What is that?"

    Madison''s eyes briefly flicked to Delilah, her gaze hardening slightly before she spoke. "Project Purity was... a dream. A dream of restoring clean water to the Capital Wasteland. Your father was obsessed with it¡ªobsessed with fixing the world, even though it was already broken beyond repair." She sighed, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of the sofa. "He believed that Project Purity could change everything. But it was never as simple as he thought."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    She reached for the glass of water the younger woman had placed in her hands, her fingers trembling slightly as she took another sip.

    "The plan was to build a facility that could purify all the water in the Tidal Basin at once," Madison continued, her tone softening as she became lost in the memory. "No radiation, no muck, just clear water." She paused, her gaze distant, and then added, almost wistfully, "It was simple, really. ''Fresh, clean water for everyone.'' Such a simple idea, and yet so impossible to realize."

    Her fingers tightened around the glass, as if grounding herself in the present. "We made progress, yes, but the technology, the infrastructure, it was never enough. Not enough to handle the scale of the task, not enough to filter the wasteland''s poison out of the water. And then there were the... other complications." Her voice trailed off, as if the weight of those complications was too much to bear.

    Delilah leaned forward slightly, curiosity piqued. "Other complications?"

    Madison¡¯s lips tightened, her eyes flicking briefly to Altan before she exhaled deeply. "You happened."

    Altan froze, the air in the room suddenly feeling thicker. Delilah¡¯s brow furrowed as she looked from one person to the other, trying to make sense of the statement. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice quieter than before.

    Madison¡¯s voice dropped to a near whisper, the words heavy with years of suppressed emotion. "It wasn''t just you; we had more problems than we could handle already, but your birth is what finally pushed it over the edge. Your father decided that you were more important than everything we''d been working for, and he left. He left all of us."

    Altan felt something cold and sharp twist in his chest. Delilah, too, seemed caught off-guard, her expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. She opened her mouth but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

    "Wait," Altan said, his voice low, the edge of anger creeping in. "You''re telling me... that because of me, everything fell apart?" His gaze hardened as he looked at Madison. "That''s why he left? He just turned his back on all of you?"

    Madison nodded, and Altan muttered something venomous under his breath. "Well, I guess that clears a few things up." He glanced at Madison. "''It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.'' The Book of Revelation, twenty-first chapter, sixth verse." He paused, eyes narrowing. "He was obsessed with that. Had it framed in several places around the clinic and our dorm. Now I know why."

    Delilah piped up, her voice trembling with anxiety. "Do you know where our dad went? We''ve been through so much trying to find him. If you know anything, please, just tell us."

    The older woman sighed again, pressing a hand to her chest. "I... I don¡¯t know. He said he was going back to the lab. I assume that means you haven''t seen him?"

    Delilah shook her head, and the woman continued. "Well, I''ve got good and bad news. The lab is nearby¡ªit''s the old Jefferson Memorial that you likely passed on your way here." As the siblings perked up, she added, "The bad news is, it''s currently occupied by super mutants. Our Marines¡ªwho, I might add, are much better trained and equipped than either of you¡ªhaven¡¯t received authorization to clear it out."

    Altan frowned, and Madison sighed. "I¡¯m sorry if this isn¡¯t what you wanted to hear, but there¡¯s no point in getting yourselves killed¡ª" She glanced at Delilah. "¡ªor worse, chasing after your father."

    Delilah shifted closer to Altan, and he reluctantly nodded, giving her a comforting squeeze. "Right. I¡¯m still banged up from our last encounter with super mutants. Going in there now would be suicide." He hesitated, then added, "But thanks. We appreciate the info."

    As Madison started to stand, Delilah called out, "Wait! Is there anything you can think of that might help us?" Madison frowned, and Delilah whined, "Please, we just want to find our dad."

    Madison sighed, her expression heavy. "If you two are determined to chase after him, you could try Galaxy News Radio in the D.C. ruins. James mentioned it¡ªI''m not sure if he was already there or if he planned to go after checking the lab. But if anyone can help, it¡¯s Three Dog. That demented disc jockey has eyes and ears all across the wasteland." She chuckled dryly. "He may even be expecting you. Who knows?"

    Altan nodded, his face hardening. "We¡¯ll need better gear. I¡¯ve heard enough about the ruins, and none of it¡¯s good."

    Madison crossed her arms, her gaze distant. "That would be wise. We¡¯ve lost too many good, young people with more bullets than brains to those ruins."

    Madison and her assistant departed shortly after, leaving a long silence in their wake. Altan and Delilah exchanged a look, the weight of Madison¡¯s words still hanging in the air.

    "That was... heavy," Altan said, breaking the stillness. "I need some time to process all that." Delilah nodded in agreement, her expression still distant. Altan sighed and added, "But after, you wanna go shopping?"

    Delilah¡¯s grin spread wide, a flicker of relief in her eyes as she teased, "We¡¯re going shopping!¡±

 15 - Barter

    Delilah walked with a bounce in her step as she led Altan toward the hangar bay that housed Rivet City¡¯s bustling marketplace. Two things fueled her good mood: the new lead they¡¯d just gotten in their search for their father, and the upcoming shopping spree. Her bartering experience had been limited so far¡ªVault 101 didn¡¯t exactly offer many chances for a young girl to trade goods¡ªand even during their time in Megaton, Altan had handled most of the transactions. But today, with a bundle of scavenged items in hand, she was excited to give it a shot herself.

    "Make sure you stay close to me, okay?" Delilah glanced up at her brother and nodded, gripping his hand for safety. He was fully geared¡ªvest, rifle, duster, and all¡ªand carrying his rucksack over his shoulder. She knew Altan planned to barter most of their salvage, hoping to trade it for a laser rifle and new armor. She was determined to help him pick out the armor, too. She¡¯d made him swear on it.

    "Where are we going first, bro?" she asked, stepping over the bulkhead frame, one leg at a time.

    He glanced down at her and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Why don''t you choose?"

    Delilah grinned, knowing exactly where they were headed. She pulled her brother through the crowded market, weaving around clusters of shoppers until they reached Rivet City Supply, a general store Vera had recommended. The owner, a tired-looking middle-aged man wearing a motorcycle helmet, sat at his counter, tinkering with a dismantled gizmo.

    Delilah stepped into view and waved. "Hello, sir. We¡¯d like to trade with you. Miss Weatherly said you¡¯d offer us a fair price for our salvage."

    The man paused his tinkering and waved them over. "Howdy, little lady. I''m Seagrave¡ªSeagrave Holmes. And you''re right, I''ll buy your salvage, but I¡¯d recommend you take a look around first. I¡¯ve got all sorts of things in here."

    Delilah nodded and wandered off, leaving Altan with their salvage and their Mark. She lost herself in the clutter of boxes, shelves, and racks stacked with Seagrave¡¯s goods. Most of it didn¡¯t catch her eye, but a few items stood out: a compact can opener, a bundle of unlabeled holotapes, a new scarf, a ratcheting screwdriver, and a pair of aluminum sporks quickly filled her hands. She also found two scrappy-looking books titled Tales of a Junktown Jerky Vendor, one of which had a Brahmin on the cover¡ªan image that made her smile.

    "Lily? I''m done here, you ready to go?" Altan called out. Delilah¡¯s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, her eyes lighting up. She quickly made her way back to the storefront, a slight bounce in her step as she carefully deposited her finds onto the counter.

    "I''m done," she replied, then turned to the shopkeeper, who looked a bit frazzled from dealing with Altan. "I''d like to buy these, sir. I¡¯ve got some salvage I¡¯d like to trade."

    Seagrave grinned, his eyes gleaming with the promise of a deal. What followed was a tense but satisfying quarter-hour of bargaining, bluffing, and back-and-forth haggling. In the end, Delilah walked away with her chosen items, plus a faded blue and gold ribbon that, with a little imagination, almost matched her vault suit.

    "You did well, Lily. I¡¯d say you really gave him the business," Altan teased. She huffed, but despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips. Taking his hand again, she pulled him toward the next stop on her list¡ªFlak and Shrapnel¡¯s, the arms vendor.

    "No more puns. Now, c''mon, bro, we''re getting you armored up," Delilah said, her voice full of determination. Altan followed without complaint. A few people huddled around a fire barrel in front of the shop, chatting idly while they warmed their hands. Inside, the shop was crammed with lockers, ammo cans, display racks, and a table showcasing several firearms. One of the shop''s owners, sitting on a couch near the back, nodded as the siblings approached.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "Need to do some killing? You''ve come to the right place," the man said, gesturing toward the firearms laid out on the table.

    Altan nodded, his eyes drifting to a laser rifle in a nearby gun locker. "Yeah. We''re heading into the D.C. ruins to find our father. Heard your shop¡¯s the best for gear."

    "And you''re bringing a kid with you?" The man sighed at Delilah''s determined nod, then stood. "Fuckin'' hell. Alright, we¡¯d better get you kitted out. Name¡¯s Flak. Step into my office." He waved the siblings further into the shop. "What exactly are you looking for?"

    Altan unslung his Chinese assault rifle and pulled a few bundles of magazines from his rucksack. "I''m looking to trade these in for a laser rifle. We also need better armor¡ªnothing too heavy, though, especially for her. Also, we¡¯ll need ear protection and something to stay in touch if we get split up. We¡¯ve got caps to burn, and Vera vouches for you, so anything else you think we might need, we¡¯re all ears."

    The man nodded, and soon the siblings were looking at a spread of weapons, armor, and gear laid out on the table. Flak started pointing to each item, his tone matter-of-fact.

    "First up, an AER-9 laser rifle. This one''s got a few modifications¡ªboosted capacitors and a beam focuser. Means it''ll hit harder and reach farther, but you¡¯ll burn through fusion cells faster and it¡¯ll overheat quicker. Comes with a flashlight and a 6x piggyback recon optic." He raised an eyebrow. "You following so far?"

    Delilah shook her head. "What does that do? The piggyback scope, I mean."

    Flak picked up the laser rifle and flipped it over to show the optic. "Recon scopes can ''mark'' targets. Keep them in your sights for a moment, and it''ll track them for a bit. As for the ''piggyback'' part¡ªit¡¯s because the red dot sight sits on top of the main scope. This way, you can have both a long-range optic and a quick, short-range sight at the same time."

    Delilah made a sound of understanding, and Flak moved on, pointing to a large pistol on the table.

    "M&A Thunderstrike," he said. "You¡¯ll want a ballistic backup in case that rifle malfunctions. This baby''ll lay a mutie out like a bolt from the blue. It¡¯s chambered in twelve-point-seven, so it kicks like a mule¡ªand that goes both ways."

    He gestured toward the next item: a set of combat armor.

    "U.S. Army combat armor," Flak continued. "Not much to say about it, except it''ll protect you a hell of a lot better than those raggedy plate carriers you''re wearing."

    He turned to Altan. "I¡¯ll need to modify a set to fit you, which¡¯ll cost extra, but I¡¯ve got a lightweight version here that should work for your sister."

    Altan nodded. "Right, sounds good so far." He turned to Delilah, who was staring wide-eyed at the hand cannon. "What do you think?" The girl blinked, startled, then quickly nodded, her gaze still fixed on the weapon. "Yeah, it looks... powerful."

    Flak chuckled, then picked up a radio headset and a combat helmet, fitting the headset into the helmet¡¯s interior. ¡°Short-range radio headsets, built for these helmets and with two layers of sound dampening. The over-the-ear design blocks most loud noises, and this switch here activates active noise reduction. Keep the energy cell topped off, and as long as you stay within twenty meters of each other, you should be good to go.¡±

    He turned to Delilah. "You¡¯ve already got your grenade launcher and laser pistol, so all that¡¯s left is practice. I¡¯ll throw in a red dot sight for the laser pistol and some training rounds for your launcher." He paused, rummaging through a nearby bin before pulling out a pair of gas masks and a bundle of filters. "And last but not least, keep these with you at all times. Some parts of the ruins have nasty stuff in the air that you definitely don¡¯t want to breathe. The filters last about half an hour, give or take."

    Altan gave the gear a once-over, then turned to Delilah. "You happy with this?" She nodded, her eyes bright with a mix of excitement and determination. After a bit more haggling for extra ammunition, Altan handed over their Mark, the weight of the decision settling heavily in his chest. It wasn¡¯t just caps; it was a step closer to the danger they¡¯d be facing, a silent commitment to the journey ahead.

 16 - Unto the Breach

    "That''s your stop up ahead, the ol'' Farragut Metro," the boat captain called, his voice gruff but friendly. "There''s a bunk room deeper in, but don''t let your guard down. Ghouls, rats, and other pests keep wandering in, no matter how many times we clear ''em out."

    Altan nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze flicking toward the looming metro entrance that was just visible beyond the crumbling dock. He glanced over his shoulder at Delilah, seated just behind the bow. Her eyes were closed, a blissful smile spread across her face as the wind teased her hair. For a moment, the harshness of the wasteland seemed to melt away, replaced by something almost normal.

    The boat slowed, its engine sputtering before cutting out entirely. With a faint thud, the vessel bumped against the weathered wooden planks of the wharf. The jarring motion pulled Delilah from her reverie, and she let out a small whine of disappointment. "Aww, I was just starting to enjoy that."

    Altan chuckled softly as he swung his rucksack onto the dock. "All good things, Lily." He stepped off the boat and turned to offer her a hand. She took it, hopping lightly onto the wharf beside him.

    As the siblings steadied themselves, Altan gave the boat a gentle shove with his foot, sending it drifting back into the sluggish water. "Thanks for the ride, Captain," he called, raising a hand in farewell. "Safe travels."

    The captain tipped an imaginary hat, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "And safe travels to you, too!" he hollered, before restarting the engine with a clattering roar. The siblings watched the boat retreat down the murky waterway, its wake rippling through the stillness.

    Altan adjusted the straps on his rucksack, his expression growing more focused as he turned toward the metro. "Alright, let''s move. GNR''s not getting any closer."

    Delilah groaned as they climbed the never-ending stairs. "When we find Dad, I¡¯m DONE with stairs. I¡¯m gonna find the flattest spot ever and just sit there like a potato." She glanced up at Altan, making a dramatic face. ¡°Okay?¡±

    Before he could respond, she nodded to herself, a faint grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Okay. It is decided. No take-backsies."

    Altan smirked and shook his head, raising his laser pistol to a low ready. ¡°Sure thing, Lily. I''ve got point, so you let me know if I take a wrong turn.¡±

    Delilah nodded in acknowledgment, already flicking a dial on her Pip-Boy as the two stepped into the dimly lit metro tunnel. The air was thick with moisture, carrying a faint metallic tang, the sound of water dripping from somewhere deep in the shadows. Their lights clicked on: Altan¡¯s helmet-mounted light cutting a sharp beam through the gloom, and Delilah¡¯s Pip-Boy light humming softly beside her, casting a steady glow in front of them.

    The metro tunnels, eerily quiet, felt more like a forgotten grave than a bustling transit system. Graffiti was scrawled on every surface¡ªsome crude, others oddly hopeful, like the jagged letters spelling out ¡®Hope lives here,¡¯ stark against the aged concrete. But the metro was surprisingly well-kept. Unlike other places, it seemed someone had made an effort to maintain it. Most of the debris and trash had been pushed into piles near the edges, clearing the way for a raised walkway made of planks, several inches above the damp floor.

    Delilah hopped onto the walkway, testing its sturdiness with a quick bounce before following Altan as he moved forward. ¡°What do you think this walkway¡¯s for?¡± she asked, her voice echoing in the stillness.

    Altan glanced down at his boots, noting the moisture collecting in the shadows. "If I had to guess? Rainy days. It hasn¡¯t rained much lately, but I imagine it can get pretty wet down here in the hotter months. The metros probably have issues with flooding, so they built this to keep the path clear." He tapped his boots with a smile. "Gotta keep them dawgs dry, y¡¯know? Trench foot kills."

    Delilah giggled, then pointed ahead of them at a door just past a row of turnstiles. ¡°Go that way, bro,¡± she said with a teasing grin.

    Altan nodded, already moving in the direction she indicated. Together, they wandered deeper into the administrative and security areas¡ªlong since looted and stripped bare¡ªuntil they reached a small office, now repurposed into a communal bunk room.

    The space was dimly lit by the flickering glow of a makeshift chandelier, a haphazard arrangement of cola bottles and glowing fungus that cast an eerie, greenish light across the room. A patched-up couch rested against the far wall, its sagging cushions covered by a bundle of mismatched blankets, one corner of which was carelessly thrown over its arm. Several cots lined the room, each a unique arrangement of old pillows, sleeping bags, and patchwork quilts, creating a sort of makeshift haven in the middle of a forgotten metro. The air carried the faint scent of mildew, a sharp contrast to the earthy aroma of the glowing fungus lamps that filled the otherwise stale atmosphere.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Against one wall stood a metal locker, its paint peeling and faded. The words "Take Something, Leave Something" were scrawled across the front in chipped white lettering, an invitation to any who passed through. Its door was propped open, revealing a jumble of supplies inside: a half-full bottle of Rad-X, a few cans of preserved food, some battered holotapes, and a stuffed mole rat toy, its ear long since lost. A sheet of paper taped to the inside of the door carried a handwritten note, the ink smudged in places: "Be kind. Don¡¯t take the last of anything unless you really need it."

    In the corner, a small table served as a kind of community message board, cluttered with old scraps of paper, faded maps, and hastily scribbled notes pinned to the surface with rusty nails. The messages varied in tone¡ªsome practical, like ¡°Tunnel to Georgetown flooded. Unsafe!¡±¡ªwhile others were deeply personal. One message, scrawled hastily in charcoal, read, "Jenny, if you see this, I made it to Megaton. Look for the yellow flag."

    Altan took in the room, his hand instinctively fiddling with the safety of his laser pistol. ¡°Looks like people have been passing through here for a long time,¡± he murmured, his voice low.

    Delilah kneeled by the locker, running her fingers over a faded holotape, turning it over in her hands as though trying to make sense of it. ¡°Yeah, but they left it nice enough. We should leave something too, don¡¯t you think?¡± she said, her tone thoughtful.

    Altan smiled faintly, reaching into his pack and pulling out a can of beans. "I think we can spare this," he said, handing it to Delilah. She took it with a nod, placing it carefully in the locker. After a brief moment of hesitation, she dug into the pockets of her lab coat, pulling out a few old holotapes. She placed them gently inside, leaving the one she had been holding for herself, pocketing it with a quiet, almost reverent motion.

    "Ready to go?" Delilah asked, brushing the dust off her knees as she stood.

    Altan nodded, glancing at the dim, flickering light ahead. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡± He checked his laser pistol one last time, his gaze briefly lingering on the distant shadows that seemed to shift just out of sight. The metro had an unsettling quiet to it now, a lull before the storm. As they moved, the sound of something scraping in the distance caught their attention¡ªa heavy metal object dragged across the floor somewhere far ahead. The noise echoed through the tunnels, a sharp, eerie sound that lingered long after it stopped. The two froze, their eyes darting toward the source of the noise. Altan¡¯s hand tightened on his weapon, while Delilah peered into the shadows, her expression unreadable. When no movement followed, she shrugged and turned back to the task at hand, guiding them through the metro with a practiced ease.

    The two siblings continued their trek, following the map on Delilah¡¯s Pip-Boy, her fingers tracing the screen as she marked off their progress. "GNR Outpost this way," she murmured, her eyes scanning the signs that had been hastily pinned to the walls. Several of them were from the Brotherhood of Steel, their logo drawn in crude chalk or spray paint, pointing them in the right direction. The Brotherhood¡¯s presence was growing more noticeable in these parts, marking safe zones or key locations with their telltale signs: "Clear. Mutants dealt with," or "Stay sharp. Scavengers ahead."

    Soon, they came across an old vending machine, mostly hidden in the shadows of a rusted doorframe. The glass was cracked, and the snacks inside had either turned to dust or molded beyond recognition. But, there were still a few relics of the old world left behind. Delilah pulled a wad of pre-war dollars from her coat pocket, shoving a few bills into the slot with a practiced flick of her wrist. A moment later, with a loud grinding noise that made her cringe, the machine jerked to life. After a few more strained sounds, a few stale snacks rattled out¡ªmostly gum and a couple of cans of crisps that somehow managed to survive the years.

    Altan raised an eyebrow. "That makes way too much sense," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

    Delilah shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "Moira taught me that." She pocketed a can of crisps, then tossed one to Altan. He cracked it open with a small, appreciative nod, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his face.

    They continued onward, the quiet moments of the metro broken only by the occasional scurrying of rats or the skittering of radroaches that scuttled from the shadows at their approach, only to be quickly dispatched with their laser pistols. It wasn¡¯t until they neared the end of the line that the mood shifted. The distant echo of gunfire began to break the silence, sporadic exchanges ringing out from the direction of Chevy Chase.

    The sounds set both of them on edge, the distant gunfire and roars cutting through the tension like a knife. Their pace quickened, instincts kicking in as they checked their gear for the last time. Altan adjusted the straps on his rucksack, holstering his laser pistol in favor of his rifle. He pointed at Delilah''s head then tapped his helmet, and Delilah swapped her boonie hat for her combat helmet.

    He switched on the headset. "Mic check."

    "Check," Delilah replied quietly, her voice steady but sharp. She flicked a switch on her Pip-Boy, activating the comms system and scanning for any nearby radio signals. Always good to be prepared.

    "We''re almost there," Delilah said, her voice steady despite the tension. "GNR¡¯s gotta be close, and the Brotherhood¡¯s got markers all over."

    They stopped just short of the metro entrance, crouching behind a rusted barricade. Altan pressed his back against the cold concrete, his eyes sweeping over the area for movement. The sounds of gunfire grew louder now, mixed with shouts and the occasional roar of a super mutant¡¯s battle cry.

    "Ready?" Altan''s voice was low, focused.

    Delilah hesitated for a split second, her fingers hovering over her Pip-Boy before she nodded sharply. Her voice, though steady, carried an edge of tension. "Yeah. Let¡¯s go find Dad.¡±

 17 - Behemoth

    It was one thing to see the ruins from a distance or to cautiously skirt the outskirts, but being thrust into the heart of the devastation was another matter entirely. The remnants of a once-thriving city loomed in a state of complete collapse. Skeletal frames of buildings jutted skyward, their walls sagging or reduced to rubble, leaving jagged silhouettes against the pale, lifeless sky. The streets below were a labyrinth of debris¡ªbroken concrete slabs, rusted vehicles, and the scattered remnants of forgotten lives piled high, choking the avenues and rendering most paths impassable.

    Delilah barely had time to absorb the devastation before movement ahead snagged her attention.

    Two super mutants lumbered out from behind the ruins of a collapsed building, their massive frames a stark contrast to the rubble-strewn surroundings. The first gripped an oversized makeshift club, a crude amalgamation of jagged steel and splintered wood that caught the dim light as if eager for bloodshed. The second twisted its grotesque, yellow-toothed grin into something almost mocking, its uneven jaw flexing as it hoisted a heavy automatic rifle and aimed it squarely at them.

    "Down!" Altan¡¯s sharp command sliced through the tension, jolting Delilah out of her stunned paralysis.

    Delilah hit the ground with a thud, her pulse hammering in her ears as her fingers scrabbled for her pistol. The mutants roared¡ªa guttural, primal sound that reverberated through the air and froze her blood. But before they could act, the sharp crack of laser fire split the silence. Brilliant beams of light cut through the dim afternoon, searing into the hulking figures. One mutant let out a strangled cry as it toppled backward, a smoking crater where its chest had been. The second staggered, its grotesque grin contorting into a grimace before it collapsed in a heap, the massive club slipping from its lifeless grasp and hitting the ground with a dull clang.

    Altan was already reloading, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he kept his gaze forward. "You good, Lily?" he asked, his voice calm and steady, though the faintest flicker of concern betrayed him. His eyes darted toward her briefly, assessing for any sign of injury or hesitation.

    Delilah forced herself to nod, pushing up on shaky arms. Her gaze flicked to the corpses, and she froze. The fading light of the day revealed the full extent of the havoc Altan''s rifle had wrought. The mutant''s bodies were cratered with catastrophic burns, their mottled skin ruptured in grotesque ways that made her stomach churn. She stared at the laser pistol in her hand, a hollow feeling settling deep within her, until Altan laid a hand on her shoulder¡ªfirm but gentle.

    "It''s ugly, Lily¡ªbut it''s us or them." His voice softened, an attempt to ease her guilt. "And given this choice? I¡¯ll always choose us. Fuck ''em."

    Delilah swallowed hard, her throat tight, then squared her shoulders. "Yeah. Fuck ¡¯em," she muttered, her grip on her pistol tightening.

    He held her gaze for a beat longer, then gave her a nod. "Atta girl," he added, his tone shifting back to its usual lightheartedness. "C''mon, Miss Navigator."

    Not far into the maze of back alleys, collapsed buildings, and uneven stretches of road, they came across a fireteam of soldiers. The group was impossible to miss, their hulking forms encased in grey power armor that seemed to absorb the light, making the air around them feel heavier. Each soldier carried a mix of automatic rifles and laser weapons, their movements swift and precise, unaffected by the weight of their imposing gear.

    As the siblings approached, one of the soldiers looked up, helmeted head swiveling in their direction, the rest of the team following suit. For a moment, everything was still. The soldiers¡¯ posture was rigid, their eyes hidden behind the reflective visors of their helmets, as though they were assessing whether the pair were friend or foe.

    One of the soldiers called out, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "Stop!" It was a sharp command, laced with authority. The siblings froze instinctively, but Altan¡¯s rifle remained at the ready, his posture rigid. He moved quickly, positioning himself in front of Delilah, his eyes scanning the armored soldiers for any sign of aggression.

    The soldier who had spoken jogged toward them, her heavy power armor clanking with every step, the ground vibrating slightly under the weight of her suit. She came to a stop just a few feet away, her gaze sharp and calculating as she sized them up. Her helmet tilted slightly, as if assessing whether they posed any threat.

    "Look," she said, her tone brisk but not unkind, "I don''t know who you are, but you don¡¯t belong here." She glanced briefly over her shoulder, as though confirming something behind her. "The super mutants have overrun our brothers at the Galaxy News Network building, and we''re heading there to back them up. You can tag along if you want, but keep your head down and try not to do anything stupid. Otherwise, you should turn around and head back the way you came."

    Altan didn¡¯t move, his expression unreadable, but his finger never left the trigger of his rifle. Delilah, standing just behind him, felt her pulse quicken, her eyes darting nervously between the soldier and the rest of the team, the tension between them palpable. She peered around Altan, her eyes narrowing as she tried to gauge the situation. "Galaxy News Radio? That''s where we''re headed," Delilah said, her voice steady despite the tension.

    Altan nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze never wavering from the soldier. He subtly shifted his stance, ensuring that Delilah was once again safely behind him, her presence felt but out of immediate harm''s way.

    The soldier¡¯s tone hardened, her expression under the helmet unreadable. "And what is your business there?" she asked, her voice sharp as steel, as though she already had her doubts about their intentions.

    Altan didn¡¯t flinch, his own voice tinged with a faint challenge. "We''re looking for our father," he said, his words clipped and direct. "And we got a lead pointing us in this direction." He paused just long enough to meet her gaze, the challenge now more evident in his posture. "Who are you people?"

    "I''m Sentinel Lyons of the Lyons'' Pride," the soldier said, her voice authoritative as she stood taller in her power armor, the weight of it shifting with a mechanical hiss. "We''re with the Brotherhood of Steel. We do our best to hold back the super mutants in this area. But when civilians stumble into our AO, that gets a bit difficult. Doesn''t it?"

    Altan bristled, his grip tightening slightly on his rifle as he stepped forward. "We handled those two just fine," he replied, his voice laced with both defiance and the slightest edge of irritation.

    The soldier gave a small, almost dismissive shrug, the motion accompanied by the familiar creak of her heavy armor. "Kid," she said, her tone turning colder, more serious, "out here, being cocky will get you killed. I''ve seen a super mutant strike squad like that take down five well-armed soldiers. One mistake, and it¡¯s game over." She paused for a moment, her sharp eyes scanning the siblings, briefly resting on the raised laser rifle in Altan''s hands and Delilah''s grenade launcher at her side. "But credit where credit¡¯s due," she continued, her tone softening just slightly, "you didn¡¯t drop your guard, and you didn¡¯t get killed. As I said, you can tag along if you want." She nodded toward the alley ahead, her posture ready to move. "But if there are no more questions, we really need to move out."This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Altan frowned but nodded, gesturing toward the soldier. "After you."

    The fireteam regrouped quickly, the soldier at the front leading them through the maze of wreckage with practiced ease. The siblings fell into step behind them, doing their best to keep up as they navigated the rubble-strewn streets. The pace was quick, deliberate, and efficient, leaving little room for conversation. The sounds of the ruined city¡ªcrunching debris underfoot, the faint crackle of distant gunfire¡ªfilled the silence as they moved onward.

    No more mutants crossed their path, but that didn¡¯t lessen the tension in the air. As they moved deeper into the wreckage, they eventually came to a narrow alleyway flanked by crumbling buildings. There, they found a pair of Brotherhood soldiers. One of the Brotherhood soldiers was slumped against a wall, his body unmoving. The front of his power armor was riddled with tiny holes, each one a testament to the brutal firefight that had taken place. Blood seeped from the gaps, pooling beneath him in dark, grim patches.

    The second soldier, standing vigil over the fallen soldier, was crouched behind a crumbled concrete barrier. His rifle poked out from behind it, and the muffled sound of laser shots echoed from around the corner. Each shot was deliberate, precise, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in the way he fired. A strangled gurgle from a super mutant reached their ears as the soldier¡¯s shots rang out one last time, the sound of a dying creature choked off by the lethal beam.

    Without turning his head, the soldier spoke, his voice low but steady. "Sentinel Lyons," he greeted, though his eyes quickly flicked over to assess the new arrivals.

    Lyons cast a quick glance at the deceased soldier, her expression hardening as she assessed the situation. "Knight Captain Colvin," she called, her tone businesslike. "What''s the situation?"

    Colvin gave a slight wave toward the barricade, his voice steady but with a hint of frustration. "All clear, Sentinel. Five mutants released from their torment. The rest are keeping their heads down, for now."

    Lyons nodded sharply, taking in the report with a practiced eye. "Good," she said, glancing at the dead soldier. "Jennings?"

    Colvin shook his head, his mouth twisting in frustration. "Negative."

    Lyons swore softly under her breath, the expletive sharp in the quiet tension of the alley. Her fists clenched at her sides for a moment before she turned back to the pair of strangers who had just arrived. Her eyes flicked over Altan and Delilah quickly, sizing them up. Colvin did the same, his gaze lingering on the weapons they carried, though his expression was unreadable. He then gestured toward them.

    "New recruits?" Colvin asked, his tone casual, though the underlying skepticism was clear.

    Lyons shook her head, her gaze briefly drifting toward the fallen soldier before turning back to Altan and Delilah. "Just some strays we picked up," she said, her voice flat but tinged with a certain bitterness. "They blundered into some uglies over on 42nd. We had to backtrack to make sure our asses weren''t exposed."

    Colvin let out a chuckle, his voice rough but light. "Welcome to the party," he added, his tone carrying an ironic warmth.

    Lyons raised a hand, signaling for the team to focus. "Alright, listen up," she commanded. "It¡¯s the usual drill. Reddin, you stick with Paladin Vargas and keep your mouth shut. Strays," she eyed Altan and Delilah, "you stay behind us."

    The other soldier, Reddin, who had remained silent until now, shouted with a firm "Yes, ma''am!" Her voice was followed by Delilah''s quiet but resolute echo, "Yes, ma''am."

    Lyons snorted, a short, almost dismissive sound, as she checked her laser rifle, adjusting it with practiced efficiency. "We do this by the drill," she said, her voice low but firm, "no dead heroes. Move out!"

    Her tone left little room for argument, and the fireteam immediately fell into formation, their heavy boots scraping against the cracked pavement as they began to move forward, the whine of their power armor filling the air.

    Automatic rifles chattered as the fireteam surged from the alley, laying down suppressive fire for Lyons and Colvin, who moved quickly to take cover behind the rusted wreck of a truck. Altan and Delilah stayed back, refraining from engaging. Delilah was content to let the Brotherhood soldiers handle it, while Altan was eager to observe. Though he was a good shot, the vast difference between his abilities and those of a trained soldier became glaringly obvious as the fireteam effortlessly waded through several dozen super mutants. Soon, they found themselves in the plaza of Galaxy News Radio.

    The plaza was littered with bodies, the majority of them super mutants, but a few wore the combat armor of the Brotherhood. One soldier in power armor lay lifeless in the fountain at the center, a missile launcher discarded several feet away from the fallen figure.

    The siblings followed the soldiers into the plaza, Delilah sticking a little closer to her brother as they passed the fallen soldiers. She cast a somber glance at the bodies before turning her attention to Lyons, who was coordinating a sweep of the area. Altan spoke up, "So this is it, huh? You need anything from us, or can we go in?"

    Lyons turned to them, but the sound of distant, lumbering stomps that made the ground vibrate caused her to pause. She swore under her breath, "Fuck." Turning to Delilah, she asked, "Have either of you used that ''79, or is it just for show?"

    Delilah nodded, her voice shaky as the stomps grew louder, closer. "I took down three with it, and..." She trailed off, her eyes flicking nervously toward the sound.

    "Good enough. That''s a behemoth¡ª" A guttural roar, loud enough to rattle their skulls, cut her off as it echoed from the direction of the footsteps. Lyons snapped into action. "Grab that missile launcher and get to cover. We need to bring it down fast and hard. Aim for the legs, and watch for backblast!"

    Altan quickly hefted the missile launcher, but the weight of the power-armored soldier was a challenge as he tried to shift them to get to the bundle of missiles trapped beneath. Another roar echoed, this time so close it felt like the air itself was shaking. The soldiers opened fire, unleashing a barrage of shots aimed at the hideously deformed head of a colossal super mutant as it peaked over a barricade made of buses that sealed off the street. The behemoth ducked back down, but with a thunderous crash, the barricade exploded outward into the plaza. Half a dozen heavy vehicles were sent flying like toys. One of the wrecked vehicles slammed into a power-armored soldier, crushing them instantly. As if in response, the behemoth swung a massive, uprooted telephone pole at the retreating soldiers, sending them scattering for cover.

    Altan froze, his heart pounding as the behemoth''s roar filled the air. The chaos around him felt distant, like it was happening to someone else. But when the grenade launcher clattered out of Delilah''s grasp, his instincts kicked in. "Lily, focus!" He shouted, cutting through the noise of gunfire and monstrous cries. Her wide, terrified eyes met his, and in that moment, his fear gave way to urgency. Kneeling in front of her, he shoved the grenade launcher back into her arms. "Try to nail it with a grenade, then run! Feet, legs, groin, wherever! We have to take that thing down!"

    When Delilah nodded, Altan turned back to the behemoth, which was already starting to falter under the relentless fire of the mounted heavy weapons. The beast staggered, its hulking form wavering, but it wasn¡¯t down yet. He fumbled with the launcher, his hands shaking as he hoisted it onto his shoulder, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The weight of the weapon felt awkward in his grip, but he knew he had no choice but to get it right. His eyes locked onto the behemoth¡¯s massive form, waiting for a clear shot.

    The mutant snatched up a soldier, pausing mid-attack as it brought the struggling, screaming figure to its grotesque mouth. "Now!" Altan barked, his voice sharp with urgency. The missile launcher roared to life, spitting a column of fire as it hurled the projectile toward the behemoth. The missile didn¡¯t detonate on impact, but slammed into the mutant¡¯s knee just above the joint with a sickening crack, causing it to stagger and drop the soldier with a deafening crash.

    Next to him, Delilah¡¯s grenade launcher thumped, and the behemoth¡¯s knee joint shattered. The creature toppled to the ground, its massive form crashing like thunder against the pavement.

    With the mutant incapacitated, Altan discarded the launcher, shifting to his rifle. He began unloading on the beast, each shot a rhythmic burst of controlled fire. A second and third thump echoed beside him as Delilah¡¯s launcher sent more grenades into the behemoth''s body, the final explosions punctuating the end of its reign of terror.

    The plaza fell eerily silent, the only sound the distant crackle of fire and the heavy breathing of the soldiers.

    The weight of the moment hit them then, and the siblings, exhausted and shaken, slumped with relief. Altan let out a long breath, his hands still gripping his rifle, while Delilah¡¯s shoulders sagged as she released the grenade launcher.

    Lyons'' voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding, carrying a hint of weariness. "We''re clear out here. Stand down.¡±