ie".

Chapter 1: Death's Other Kingdom

They tell, in the City of Bridges, of a stranger who visited them in years gone by. This stranger was to change the face of a broken community in an event remembered as "The Rising". Like the Brotherhood before him, he was to scour the people for all evil, certain in his principles, unwavering in his strength. His actions reverberate now, twenty years later. This is the tale of one woman and her relationship with this killer.

Marie woke, the morning of November 12th, 2297. The dawn of the twenty-fourth century. Her body was covered in scars, incisions from her childhood where clumsy slaves had extracted tissue samples for study. Although a young woman of twenty-one, she appeared much older. Grime covered her naturally pretty face, her greasy hair unkempt and knotted. A tattered bear was the first thing to greet her, as usual. She knew not how she had acquired it, but kept it with her always. She considered the patchy toy one of the only links to her childhood, a good luck charm which had kept her safe from harm while others withered and perished. Now, of course, she knew better. The memory, however flawed, was still a comforting one.

She felt like the only one left. Her adoptive mother, Midea, died when she was 11. The sickness which the brave woman had battled for so long finally claimed her, a painful, lingering end. This left her in the hands of the local warlord, Wernher. The frightened girl never liked her one-eyed ruler, who cast his remaining eye on her in disgust. It was as if he hated the girl, although she had done nothing to warrant it. When Midea died, she overheard Wernher talking with his lieutenants. The "squirt" was now to give them "real answers", he said in combined glee and frustration. Marie always knew she had been special. Midea kept her in a protective cocoon, always gentle, even when administering "necessary pains". With Midea gone, Wernher was free to experiment as he saw fit. Dragging the crying girl from her home Downtown, past the skeletons of Uptown and into Haven, Wernher's men tested, poked, prodded, and sliced at her.

Eventually the experiments ceased. She remembered the day that cruel Wehrner finally addressed her face-to-face, rather than talking about her to his men. He said that he'd got what he could, but berated the teenager on "false promises" and "wasted time." One of Wehrner's oldest associates, the Doctor, Nola, took pity on the girl. She explain that all her life she had been naturally immune to the crippling effects of Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, the horrifying disease that had claimed so many. Since 'The Rising', an event that had delivered the infant into the hands of Wehner from wicked slavemasters, the people of The Pitt had been studying her for a cure. After years, they had finally found it.

It was not the cure that Wernher wanted. The breakthrough had been achieved after careful study of her tissue samples. The recent clearing of the old University Campus around Haven had revealed new equipment vital to the study of these samples. The Cure was linked to her genes, the chromosomes that determined her gender. Nola spoke quietly on how her mother also had this immunity. Combined with her fathers unmutated DNA, her XX chromosomes carried the key to a cure. The information could be extracted, combined with a mutagen, replicated, and injected into a host. In a process ironically similar to mutation, the cure would then begin to alter the DNA of the host, imbuing them with the same immunity. Following this, the natural healing mechanism of the body would then return the affected individual to peak condition. Any children of this individual would inherit this genetic trait, just as Marie had from her mother.

The problem lay with the nature of the cure. The treatment could only mutate and replicate host DNA similar to itself - the XX chromosome. In other words, it would only be effective for women and their children. Wernher had built his empire on the promise of this cure, free for any and all. Now this dream lay shattered. Violence broke out across The Pitt as word spread. "It only works for women!", was the word on the lip of every man. Furious at the inequity, they armed themselves. The coup was brief but bloody. The army of lesion-encrusted sick stormed Haven, turning on Wernher. His power base crumbling, he fled into the sewers, cursing the name of The Pitt. Nobody has seen him since, although sightings of a mutated, one-eyed Trog in the ruins are reported from time to time.

That was 7 years ago. The cure had worked as predicted; the menfolk succumbing to illness, the women gaining an immunity. For the first time in years children were being born in The Pitt, all immune to the horror. Now an effective matriarchy, the women had learned to fight and work to defend this new sanctuary. Men could grumble, but their dying complaints fell on deaf ears. The next generation of men would have the same advantages as the women, promised Nola. Marie herself was considered too important to work, but following the extraction of a cure even she was put to work in the Mill. In the chaos following the Second Rising, former slave-medic Nola had risen to power on the virtue of being able to produce and control the cure. Fond of Marie, she kept her close at hand, telling her that the city was really hers. She was just 'keeping it warm'.

On this smoggy November morning curiosity finally got the better of her, a trait Wernher had always tried to suppress with half-truths and violence. She wanted to know about the Rising, she wanted to know her real parents, she wanted to know the meaning of Nola's cryptic statement. The truth would be hard to take.

I like

The only thing is the paragraph with "It was not the cure that Wernher wanted." you should add somewhere in that paragraph in a little detail what it was Wernher did want -me thinks, a little kingdom

otherwise, great B)

Thanks andy. In response to your question, a few paragraphs down the hopes and promises of Wernher are touched on - "Wernher had built his empire on the promise of this cure, free for any and all. Now this dream lay shattered."

Wow, this is excellent writing. I have yet to play The Pitt. Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, excuse me while I don my surgical mask! I disagree with old andy, I think the way you touched upon Wernher's goals was fine for an opening chapter (or prologue if that's what this is). I like how you've created empathy for Marie. I feel for her even though I know very little about her. You have definitely hooked a new reader.

Sure, but that's like the end of the bit, with the first sentence being the beginning. I kinda miss a little middle bit about his wants and desires, or it sorta goes fom telling what he didn't want, straight to him losing what he had.
The middle bit adds contrast to him losing it all in the next paragraph.

Anywho.. MORE! MORE!!

Chapter 2:
And no birds sing.

Marie rubbed her eyes with filthy hands, and shrugged on an old cloak. Blinking, she gazed out of a broken window over the only city she had ever known. Her room was one of the higher levels in Haven, where the air seemed to be clearer. Thick smog clung to the city. When she was a girl, living Downtown, the entire Uptown area had been infested with Trogs. Wernher's great contribution to the city was reclaiming Uptown from the barbaric hordes. The lower levels of Haven still smelled faintly of them. He told grand tales of personally leading the charge, cleaving Trogs in two with an auto-axe. In abandoned areas of Uptown she could still glance white bones, picked clean. The remains of the unfortunate masters, killed in The Rising. She couldn't help but feel sorry for them, although never expressed this pity to the old slaves.

In the distance the black monolithic ruins of the U.S. Steel Building rose from the smoke to greet her. Most of the building effort and new materials had gone into repairing the abandoned Haven, although Wernher had made passing comments about one day restoring the entire city. The Second Rising put paid to this idea, for the time being. Simple survival was enough of a struggle, without burdening the people with reconstruction. To either side of the city steamed the rivers of the Allegheny and Monongahela, flowing into the Ohio near the building of shattered glass. The rivers flowed not with precious water, like the rivers of old, but with a most deadly poison. Their confluence mixed the poisons, creating Trogs of those who breathed the noxious fumes. Were it not for the mill, no sane person would stay here.

Nola was already awake. In a back room she feverishly studied, experimenting with the extracted cure, attempting vainly to extend the protection to the male populace. She looked up briefly from her terminal as Marie entered. The two stood in comfortable silence before Marie spoke.
"Nola...you know I hate to interrupt you when you work. But there are things I need to ask you," Marie began. "It is not your fault, but all my life I've been kept in a shell...sheltered from danger, from the truth, from life."

"You know why we needed to keep you safe," reproached the ageing doctor. "We could not risk your life. We needed to keep you safe, at any cost. The cure in your body was, and is, the most important thing in the world to the people in this city. I didn't agree with Wernher's methods. But his vision was shared by everyone...it was the reason for The Rising."

"I know," replied Marie in an apologetic tone. "I meant no disrespect. You know I appreciate all that you've done for me. What I meant was, I feel like I live in ignorance. My questions were met with disapproval, by curiosity met with telling glares. As if I was asking things that I was not meant to know. But we are both women of science, you know as well as I that knowledge should never be denied. Even The Rising I know next to nothing about. My origins, my parents, where I came from - all these things are a mystery to me, shrouded in contradiction and lies."

Nola heaved a sigh, standing up from her terminal and fixing Marie's gaze. She appeared lost in thought for a moment, debating in her mind whether Marie was right or not.
"Sit down, then. You'll want to be seated for all I have to tell you," she cautioned, gesturing towards the bed in the corner. Marie perched on the edge, bracing herself for the truth.

"I'm ready for anything you have to tell me," said Marie with forced confidence.

"I hope so. I know you have many questions, but the answer to one will answer them all. You are completely intertwined with the events of The Rising."

"I thou-"

"Please," interrupted the physician. "These are difficult times for me to recall. I lost many friends...I'm sorry, I need to concentrate. It began when the exiled Wernher brought a stranger to our city. He believed that only a outsider could prevail against those who held us in bondage. Back then I was a simple medic. Before I was captured, I worked as a doctor in my settlement. The conditions were so dire, so disgusting, that treating even the most minor of injuries was a dangerous business. Then there was the sickness...nobody could do anything for that."

"Tell me about this stranger," Marie questioned, allowing her inquisitiveness to get the better of her.

"They say he came from the south," reminisced Nola. "Far to the south. The masters used to acquire a great many slaves from his home, but the supply had dried up just before he arrived. He arrived like many of us, clad in tattered rags and chains. But the look in his eyes...fierce, unconquered. All around was a resigned despair, but he strode confidentially through the streets. Some of the new blood were like that initially, but the masters quickly beat it out of them. But his sense of purpose was different, like he knew exactly what he was doing. In a sense I suppose he did. Always checking a strange device on his wrist. It must have been attached firmly, otherwise the masters would have taken it. The start of The Rising had been planned before he arrived, of course. Wernher was the mastermind behind it. Your Midea was the eyes and ears. Marco, rest his soul, provided the weapons. We just needed the muscle. Initially the stranger was put to work in the steel yard. He's the reason we don't need to go into the area any more, for he scoured the ruins for every single piece of steel. But it was the Arena - that hole the Mill - where he earned his fame. His combat prowess allowed him Uptown. Back then going Uptown was a death sentence for any slave, unless you had proved yourself in the Arena. We don't know exactly what transpired Uptown. What we do know is that when he returned Downtown, he carried you in his arms and left a lot of dead slavers in his wake. To finally finish the slavers, he cut the lights on Wernher's suggestion. Uptown was overrun by Trogs, and remained that way until we purged the mindless beasts."

"What became of the stranger?"

"He left for the south. Occasionally he'd return, speaking with Wernher and Midea. I first spoke to him on his return. He provided me with much needed Stimpaks, Med-X, RadAway, RadX...even Buffout and Psycho. I don't know where he got all of his supplies, but I'm glad he decided to share. In the wake of The Rising we had many injured. He even brought you your beloved bear."

"So that's where he came from...You said he carried me back in his arms...I came from Uptown?"

"Originally, yes. You were the cure that Wernher had promised the slaves. He learned about you whilst he was the second in command, used you to get the stranger here in the first place."

"So...the slavers kidnapped me?"

"I don't know. All I know is that you were in Uptown, where our masters studied you and learned of the immunity. The stranger took you, delivered you to us and wiped out the masters. Every last one of them. The rest, you know."

"You know nothing more?"

"I'm afraid not. At the time I had my hands full caring for the injured and dying, as well as tentatively running tests on you. The politics didn't concern me then, nor does it now. Only survival matters to me, alleviating the suffering of our city."

"So I'd need to find this stranger from the south to find out the truth?"

"That's the only way. There aren't many left from those days, though. Aside from myself, the only people who knew the stranger in person still alive today are Milly and Kai."

"Then I'll speak to Milly and Kai. Thank you, Nola."

"It's the least I can do, Queen. Good luck with your search."

This is really brilliant! It's such an awesome story so far, it's exciting when someone from TES FanFic part come here to write, because the stories are always terrific. Keep writing mate .

This is really good man, I can't wait for the next chapter

The diminutive Marie pondered Nola's histories as she descended the walkways to Downtown. Of all the areas of The Pitt, Downtown was the most changed, the most transformed. Part of the reason was due to her, a reason for hope, a reason to stay in the squalor and rebuild. She would speak with Milly and Kai about this stranger. Yes, talk to them...and find out where he was. She was beginning to piece together the scattered memories, the relics of her past and the words of Nola. The stranger came, took her from Uptown...delivered her to the slaves. But why would slavers kidnap a baby? Usually slavers left the very young, or very old, to die. Not study them, especially not carefully. There was only one explanation. But she needed confirmation. Acting on suspicions, mere supposition...unscientific.

Kai was proudly ruling over her cafeteria, tending to a slowly roasting Brahmin on a spit, thin wisps of grey hair falling down her face, a face covered in thick scar tissue.
"Ah, our little miracle," she chuckled. "Well, not so little anymore. What brings you back Downtown? Hungry?"

"No...no thank you," replied Marie, nervously eyeing the two-headed monstrosity. "I came for information."

"My stew recipe is an official secret, little one. You should know that by now!"

"No, I meant about the past."

"The past is difficult," Kai replied sadly, dropping her jovial spirit. "But the three of us left owe you. Were it not for you I'd still be dying slowly."

"I wanted to ask you about the stranger. During The Rising. Who was he? Where did he come from?"

"The man saved my life. Well, he and Nola. I took a bullet to my gut...just punishment for my cooking some would say...Anyway, a shot of MedX and several dozen stimpaks got me back on my feet. He never said much. After he won in the Arena, that's when things got interesting. We could hear the gunshots echoing from Uptown, that was the signal we needed to storm the place. It was a miracle you weren't hit by an errant shot...you are blessed, young Marie, in more ways than you could possibly imagine."

"So it's true? I did come from Uptown, from the masters?"

"Oh, yes. You were the cure Wernher promised us all. Of course, I didn't know that the cure was a baby girl. But the stranger had no qualms about taking you."

"He was a wicked man? Who thought nothing of stealing a baby from her parents."

"No. At least, I didn't think so. He did it to help the slaves. Without him, slavers would still be beating us to death and throwing us off walkways for fun."

"Where did he come from?"

"That I can't tell you. Somewhere to the south, I've heard. Milly might be able to tell you more. Other than Wernher and Midea, she seemed to be the one who spoke most to him. Stay safe, little miracle."

The picture of the past was becoming clearer in her mind, as was the image of this stranger, so linked with her origins. If she was ever to know the truth, she needed to find him. Milly though, she was a curious case. Something tragic had happened to her, but that was nothing unusual in The Pitt. What was unusual was the way she dealt with it. Half crazy, half civilised, she sat in the steelyard. After killing the wildmen on the blast furnace, she sits weeping and scavenging food. But she knew the stranger. Marie made her way through the heat of the mill, out to the silence of the yard. A gentle sobbing still carried through the air.

Marie's delicate voice strained, shouting out for Milly.

"Who?" came the tearful reply.

"I'm Marie," answered the cloaked girl. "I need to know about the man who came here, twenty years ago."

"Wild Bill?"

"No...a stranger. You spoke to him."

The pipes above Marie clanged, as the old wiry woman climbed down. Her red, puffy eyes sized up the visitor, and she spoke through broken teeth.

"He found my Bill. Gave me his gun. Revenge! Sweet and sad. So sweet and sad."

"I need to know where he came from."

"South! From the south...fought in the Arena. Killed. Just like my Bill. Fought and won. Not like my Bill."

"Yes, from the south. I need to know where, exactly. I need to find him."

"Don't know. Heard the raiders talking though. Maybe Paradise Falls, they said. Don't know where that is."

"Which raiders?"

"Oh, all of them. All knew. All dead now," she cackled. "All except the ones missing. Heard...Faydra! She knew. Made the fights."

"Where is she now?!"

"Don't know. Survived The Rising. Not like my Bill."

With that, the damaged woman broke down in tears. Marie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and left. Finding this Faydra was now her top priority, no matter what the cost. Marie would find out who she really was, and claim her identity.

Once again I am enjoying the read. :read:

If I were to lend some constructive criticism, it would be in the most minor areas:

From your second post:

"We could not risk your life. We needed to keep to safe at any cost."

I think you meant 'you' there.

"Sit down, then. You'll want to be seated for all I have to tell you," she cautioned, gesturing towards to bed in the corner

Again, I think you meant 'the'.

From your third post:

"No . . . no thank you," replied Marie, nervously eyeing the two-heading monstrosity. "I came here for information."

This one, I don't mind saying, has me stumped. For purely personal taste I would prefer 'two-headed' here, but I can see how two-heading might have been done on purpose. Either way I think it fits. Changing it is a call that only you can make.

Also, I might suggest that skipping a line whenever a different character starts to speak would make it easier to keep track of who is talking, but it is not so glaring a thing that it ruins the immersion in the story.

As I said, all of the above are minor nitpicks.

Whoops, this is what happens when you write too early in the morning. Thanks for the corrections. Two-headed is, right, of course, it refers to http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/fallout/images/2/2f/Brahmin_FO3.png

this FF is awesome

Good original idea. Will she like what she finds when seeking for the now middle-aged Lone Wanderer? We shall see.

hey eh.. lorca1? when will the next chapter come out (sorry)

Marie Ashur's journey will probably continue tomorrow, at the latest. Thanks for your interest; I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Chapter 3: ?olio crepit?, non carmine.

Nola was examining the effects of mutagenic agents on Mole Rats when Marie returned to the illuminated Haven. With luck, Nola hoped to extrapolate a more efficient method of cure administration through her experiments.

"Slow progress," the doctor sighed, as Marie approached. "We tread a fine line between curing and making the mutation worse. As always, your DNA is the key. But how fast the host DNA can replicate the sequencing required to grant immunity seems to be fixed...if I try and accelerate it, the whole structure collapses and the host dies. It's delicate work, a painful system trial and error. It's a wonder we were able to extract the cure and make it transferable in the first place."

"Have you had any success in spreading the cure to males?"

"No success there either. When the first baby boy is born we might be able to repeat the same process we used to cure women. But experimenting on children...I'm not Wernher. Anyway, did you have any success with Kai or Milly?"

"Milly is the same as she always is," replied Marie. "I just wish I could do more to help her. She did mention the name of somebody who knew where this stranger came from."

A Mole Rat lunged its teeth through the bars of its cage, causing both women to recoil slightly.
"Another failure," explained Nola. "As the sequencing breaks down the subject becomes more aggressive before it dies. So, what's the name?"

"Faydra."

Nola thought for a minute before a look of angry realisation dawned on her.
"That piece of dirt who guarded the Arena? She did manage to escape before we were able to put a bullet in her..."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"I've heard rumours, from traders. Apparently out east is a small settlement known as Set. After The Rising one of The Pitt raiders turned up there. In a brief time she arranged fights, hunts, for caps...and just because she likes seeing blood being spilt. I'd wager good caps that it's Faydra."

"Where is this settlement, exactly?"

"You're not thinking about going? Marie, have you lost your mind? You'd never survive out there!"

"I'm not thinking about going, I am going," replied Marie with determination. "I must find the stranger. He is the key to everything, where I came from, who I am. Besides which, I cannot stay in one town for the rest of my life. There's a whole world out there I could help."

"There's a whole world out full of murderers, slavers and mutants," retorted Nola. "Who would just love to dissect you and sell the findings to the highest bidder. But I can sense that you're not going to let this drop. Set is a fair distance southeast of The Pitt. Past Monroeville and the Westmoreland Badlands. Traders from out east usually follow route 76 up through the Badlands to The Pitt, but tell of raiders and worse."

"How would you get there?"

"I wouldn't. But if I was advising someone who had a death wish, I would suggest taking the tunnel south, getting off at the Dravos Crossing. Unfortunately, with the cave in, that's not possible. The only way would be taking the trail that merchants from the Erie Stretch and Ronto use, head north through the ruins, then circle your way down to the south east and Monroeville. Find the ruined road and follow it through the badlands. I can't guarantee that Set is even still there, though. Or tell you what to expect, beyond the usual raiders. I'm sure you've heard what people say about Monroeville, but I've never been there, so I couldn't confirm those rumours either. Even if it isn't infested with Trogs, the world outside The Pitt is still just one giant death-trap. Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Sleep on it before making a decision. Think about this. Leaving The Pitt has meant death for many who thought they could do better elsewhere."

"As you wish, Nola. I will see you tomorrow."

Marie ascended the stairs to her room, her head buzzing with new possibilities, her heart heavy with the knowledge that attempting to discover these possibilities could mean her death.

this is gtting real good

I have finished reading your Books by Lorcka. :read: Amazing work, I can see why you are so esteemed on these boards. I was very intrigued by Africa Shocks, especially the opening. I wish more people had read it so that you would have been compelled to continue it, but . . .

I am really enjoying Queen of the Pitt. Your description of Nola's experiment is great.

If I had to find anything to critique I would say that this sentence:


reads a little awkward. Mole Rats can 'show' their teeth or 'gnash' their teeth, but I'm not sure that they can 'lunge' their teeth.

Of course, I'm not an expert. :shrug:

Thanks very much, any feedback is always welcome. Glad you like the books, I intend to return to them eventually, although I've yet to finish my other TES FF...is there a necromancy limit on FFs? I hope not.

Anyway, lunged, as in; "#2 a sudden plunge forward", a thrust of its http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/fallout/images/3/3c/Mole_rat_FO3.png through the bars. Perhaps 'thrust' would have been a better choice...anyway, new update coming soon!

Marie woke. But this day was going to be different. Her mind was made up, she would leave The Pitt, as soon as possible. She knew that her friends would consider her completely insane. But knowing the truth about herself, that was a cause worth fighting for. Even worth dying for. Gunshots echoed outside the building, startling her out of her dreary half-sleep. She fumbled for a weapon, grabbing a loose lead pipe in her room. Creeping out of her room, she peered out of her broken window into the courtyard. It was Nola, putting to death the Mole Rats she had been experimenting on. Noticing the movement in Marie's room, the doctor shouted up.

"Sorry to wake you. Come down here, I need to speak with you."
Marie's petite face disappeared from view as she threw on her ragged cloak and rushed down to the courtyard. Perhaps Nola had found an easier way to Set?

"What do you need?" she asked, "And why are you shooting Mole Rats?"

"The last batch made them incredibly aggressive in the first stages. Then left them writhing in pain. Finishing them seemed like the right thing to do. But I'm sure you're more interested in other matters. I take it you've thought about your suicidal quest?"

"I've been thinking about it for a long time, Nola. The time is now, I know it."

"I can't keep you here against your will," Nola replied. "Actually, I probably could. But I wouldn't. All I will tell you is that you will be killed. There is almost no question about it. Look at you, responding to gunshots by arming yourself with a lead pipe. You won't last five minutes outside The Pitt in your current state."

"There's no need to insult me," retorted Marie with indignation. "That's a risk I am willing to take. I know my cause is is of the greatest importance. I will discover who I am, or die trying."

"You will die trying. When are you planning to leave? What are you taking with you? Who are you taking with you? What if you can't find Faydra. What if, at the end of your long journey, this man who holds so many answers is bloatfly food, or worse, a feral mutant?"

Marie thought for a moment, before repeating her answer like a mantra.
"That's a risk I am willing to take. I want to leave as soon as possible, for everyday that passes increases the chance of failure, the possibility that the stranger has died."

"As soon as possible? Bold words. But what will you take with you? Leaving as you are, in tattered rags with only a pipe to protect you?" Nola chuckled. "There are ways to increase your chances of survival. I had a feeling you wouldn't let this drop, so have made arrangements. Go and see Turnpike in The Mill."

Marie disliked the heat, noise and smell of The Mill. The thing that guaranteed her safety was the think she loathed most. Accidents were common, limbs caught in presses, horrific burns from molten metal, workers crushed by falling metal. There was little anybody could do. Turnpike was a recent arrival, drawn by the prospect of work and shelter. In his first week in The Mill, he had lost his left ear to an auto-axe accident. Nevertheless, he was well regarded for his expertise with firearms. Marie moved cautiously through the haze, to Turnpike's armoury, the old control room.

"Hello princess," he quipped upon seeing Marie's delicate frame enter the room. "Can't resist seeing old Turnpike, huh? I've been hearing you have some sort of death wish. Leaving The Pitt? You have absolutely no clue, princess. Not a clue about what waits for you out there. Why do you think I came here in the first place? It ain't for the ambience or the charming company, I tell you that much."

"A pleasure to see you too, but don't flatter yourself. Nola says you want to see me."

"Right back at you, princess. I've not much use for clueless pampered girls in my armoury. But Nola doesn't want you to wander out with nothing, so I've got to give away my precious guns to fuel your ridiculous fantasy."

"Someone like you couldn't understand," snapped Marie. "You think you have all the answers. But I've known nothing about my past, or where I come from. You take these things for granted."

"No need to get an attitude with me, kid. Just telling it as it is. If Nola has any sense she'd be telling you the same. Besides, I'm trying to help you. You do want my help, don't you?"

"I'll take all the help I can get."

"Good." Turnpike dragged out a footlocker from under a control panel. "My little box of tricks. Three things for ya. First, this nice piece of kit. You've probably seen the guards carrying 'em about. It's a silenced R91, a reliable firearm if you take care of it. I'm assuming you know how to field strip and clean it?"
Marie looked back blankly.

"You are hopeless, princess. Watch carefully. First thing - make sure there's no mag in it. Unless you want your hand blown off. Then - flip the safety, this little button in front of the trigger here, to fire. Next, you want to pull the charging handle, this on the back here, back all the way. Make sure there's no round chambered. If there ain't, let the handle slam back and pull the trigger."
Turnpike pulled a rod out from under the barrel.
"Cleaning rod. R91's are tough, don't require much maintenance, but if you don't clean out the gunk every once in a while you're asking for it to jam on you. This button here removes the top cover."
Turnpike removed the top part of the weapon, revealing the innards of the gun. Marie watched in a daze as Turnpike's hands swiftly took the weapon to pieces, springs and tubes lying about the ground.
"Right, you got all that princess?" Turnpike questioned.

"I think I can manage," Marie bluffed, nervously.

"Well you damned well better, or you're dead. This particular model is quite rare, the stock has been taken off, and I've attached a scope. It's usually called an Infiltrator. Takes 5.56mm. Help yourself to magazines."

Turnpike reassembled the weapon quickly, handing it to Marie.
"The next thing is a back-up weapon, in case your main firearm is lost, broken, whatever. A N99. Nola was particularly insistent that this be silenced too. Very wise, since gunshots out in the wastes usually tend to be investigated by people with bigger guns. Or mutants who know that a gunshot means someone must be close by. You could throw a N99 into the river, fish it out a year later and still have it fire perfectly, so even you should be all right with this."

"And the last thing?"

"Nola asked me to sort you out with some armour. My first thought was a Gamma Shield, but I doubt you'd be able to move under all that lead. So I've gutted it, taken out the lead lining, removed the shoulder plating...well, removed most of the heavier bits. It still has some armour plating, though, and is light enough for you."

Marie scooped up the black heap.
"You're not going to get changed here? Shame. Go back and talk to Nola before you set off on your little vacation."
Turnpike turned back to the computer terminals, dismissing Marie with a wave of his calloused hands.

Marie carried her equipment back to Haven, where Nola waited with folded arms.
"He's not put you off, I see."

"Not even a little," replied Marie, struggling to keep hold of her new armour and weapons.

"Well then. I've got a few parting gifts of my own for you."

"I am grateful to you, Nola. I couldn't have begun this without you."

"That's what worries me. You should take some supplies, for trade and your own use. We can't spare many Stimpaks, but you can take all that we can afford." Nola piled a handful of the silver syringes on top of Marie's equipment. The girl angled the pile backward, balancing the heap under her chin.

"You don't need RadAway or RadX, so you've at least got that advantage. MedX will be useful. I know you'll be careful with it, but don't get cocky. It's easy to become addicted. I'll also give you a basic aid kit - bandages, needle and thread, lighter. Lastly, a few syrettes of the cure. Maybe you can trade it, or share it, or improve it. Pick up some food and water, kit-up, then you can meet a friend of mind. Finch is a trader from Ronto. He'll guide you through the rubble, but you'll be on your own after that."
Marie, laden with equipment, managed the slightest of nods in acknowledgement. A short time later, she returned. Clad in black, Infiltrator slung across her shoulder, pistol at her hip with ammunition and supplies in a knapsack, she could almost be described as fearsome. Her elegant face broke the illusion, much to Nola's amusemant. A gruff bearded man stood beside her, Brahmin in tow.

"Look at you," Nola chuckled. "A real wastelander now. One final parting gift for you." Nola produced two lengths of black cloth. "There are many in the wasteland who would do anything for a beautiful creature like you. It's a dangerous place for a woman on her own." She tied one length around Marie's face and made a headwrap with the second. "There. Nice and covered. Finch, she's all yours."

"I'll take you to Highland," he spoke with a curious accent. "After that, you'll need to head south-east to Monroeville. A few rules. One, stay close. If you lag behind, you get left behind. Two, don't get in my way. Three, keep your mouth shut. I don't want any conversation and noise attracts trouble. We clear?"

"Clear," nodded Marie.

"I'll see you in about two months," the trader said to Nola, who was embracing Marie in a final goodbye. With that, the curious pair left Haven. Nola watched them disappear into the northern ruins, a single teardrop running down her face.

this is getting better and better!!!

Chapter 4: Over The Hills and Far Away

The area around Haven had been cleared in previous years, a long, painful process. The reclamation, an extension of the surge to take back Uptown from the Trogs, initially focussed on Langley Hall, part of the old University of Pittsburgh. The campus had been totally ignored by the former raider masters, who could find neither food nor slaves in the ruins. Once the rubble in front of the complex had been cleared away by back-breaking labour, the new masters of The Pitt found a wealth of information. The buildings had been part of the pre-war Department of Biology. The curious slaves found books, equipment, a veritable scientific horde. Without it, the cure would have taken decades longer.

Beyond the relative safety of the reclaimed campus, however, the city was being reclaimed by the wastes. The concrete skyscraqers and solid buildings that formed the heart of pre-war Pittsburgh had survived thanks in part to their solid construction and partly down to salve labour used in maintenance - the masters did not want to live in a crumbling city, where falling rubble could end them at any moment. Although The Mill was the first priority, free slaves after The Rising continued the general maintenance of the buildings for a similar reason.

No slaves have bothered to maintain anything outside the core. Suburbia had been reduced to hollow husks of houses, the remnants of any people living there either long dead, mutated or enslaved. Marie, despite her inquisitive nature, had been warned against wandering two far from the safety of Uptown. There was no point in endangering lives exploring the detritus of the Pittsburgh hinterland. She had watched the free slaves clear away the rubble of Fifth Avenue to encourage trade with Ronto and the Erie Stretch. Glimpsing beyond the twisted girders, all she could see was crumbling spires of old holy places.

The pair clambered over the broken spires of St. Pauls. Marie looked back one last time at the towering presence of her former home, Haven.
"If you're feeling homesick already perhaps it's time to turn around now," muttered the trader.

"I've lived here my whole life...leaving here is very difficult. Although I-"

"Not interested. Remember rule three."

The street ahead was typical of many in America. Although Pittsburgh had been spared a direct nuclear strike, the damage caused by two-hundred and twenty years of neglect had a similar effect. The streets were broken, wide cracks in the asphalt exposing the ground beneath. The fronts of buildings had fallen down across the roads, the structures that remain casting jagged shadows across the rubble. Around the buildings were withered trunks of trees, killed by the pervasive radiation. Marie gazed in wonder at the decayed splendour of what buildings remained. To the left and right she eyed all manner of crosses amongst the rubble and emblazoned on the walls. Further ahead she spotted a block of stone carved into the shape of a candle.

"Churches," said the trader. "Well built before the war, so they last longer. Sometimes you'll find crazies in them, raiders who want the shelter, or cultists who see its survival as some kind of message. Out east there's even some Abbey, sends out missionaries on suicide missions."

Marie nodded silently. The deliberate aesthetics of the iconography lay in stark contrast to the abandoned, forgotten ruins around. Other than the scuffle of the trader, his brahmin and her own feet, all she could here was the wind blowing dust through the skeletal structures. The ever-present grinding of the Mill was fainter than she had ever heard it. It was almost as if she was leaving an old friend, who was calling back to her. The entourage continued silently through the devastation, through shells of homes and rusting industrial complexes, until they reached a railway bridge.

"Take care over here," cautioned the trader. "My brahmin goes over first. Then me. We know the way. You watch your step, if you fall and break your legs I'm not climbing down there to drag you out. Got a schedule to keep to."

Marie's dainty frame was never in any danger, her step far too light to collapse the structure, hopping along without difficulty. She was across before the cautious trader and his pack animal.

"Impressive. But remember rule one. If your stray too far ahead and get yourself lost, I'm not going out of my way to find you."

The two forged ahead, the orange haze of The Pitt lessening with each step to the north.

"Word to the wise. Lotta Trogs in that dip," he mumbled, lazily gesturing in the direction of the railway, where the track carved a valley. "They like the shadows. When you leave, circle round. No way to get through 'em."

Marie was warming to the gruff Finch. He cared, in his own, lazy way. He cared that she didn't get in trouble, if only for the fact that he'd have to deal with the consequences. Still, the advice was welcome.

As they approached their destination the trader brought a hunting rifle to his hip. In imitation, Marie slung her infiltrator down, ready to fire.

"Smart kid," nodded Finch. "Although keep the muzzle away from me."

"Why have you-"

"Shut up," whispered Finch, throwing up a halting hand. "Hear that?"

To the north, strange noises echoed through the ruins of suburbia. Marie was accustomed to odd noises, the grind of the Mill, the clang of the hammer, the scream of the injured worker, the terrifying growl of a Trog, the crack of a gunshot. But these noises...growls, squeals, roars, snorts. Primal. Predatory.

"The Highland Bridge is right next to the ruins of the old Pittsburgh Zoo," explained Finch. "The radiation from the river mutated the animals in there. Giant Phants, Leos, Two-Horns. That's what you're hearing. Highly territorial, they'll kill anything that goes near. We've lost many caravans to them. Fortunately they don't stay too far. We'll have to creep past. After we have, you can peel off to the Highland Park, then southeast to Monroeville while I take the bridge. I hope you know how to use that gun of yours."

awesome, just.plain.awesome.

The two stalked forward through the rubble, like game hunters of old. Marie's demeanour was more akin to a startled gazelle, always on the alert, flighty and cautious. Finch threw up his hands, gesturing at Marie to halt. He reached under his jacket, pulling out a telescopic tube. Cleaning the cracked lens on a tattered rag, he placed it to his eye, peering through the ruins at a silhouette.

"A two-horn," he whispered. "Dangerous. Deadly. Nothing else like it. Here, look."
He passed the scope to Marie, who copied the merchant's pose. Through the lens, she spied the creature. A beast unlike anything she'd seen before. She shuddered at the thought of this towering monster being so close to everything, everyone she cared about. The beast was a tortured mass of cracked armour, muscle ripping through its hardened black skin. It's head was dominated by a two immense razor-sharp points stained with blood. At either side of its head lay beady eyes of milky white. The beast snorted steam through it's ragged nostrils, pacing slowly back and forth in the rubble.

The merchant grabbed back the scope.
"Very poor eyes. But very good nose. If it catches our scent, it will charge. Nothing can stop it. Shoot at it, the bullets are stopped by its armoured shell. Run from it? You haven't a hope. Hide, it will smash through any barrier to get to us. Our only hope is to stay silent and stay downwind. If it charges, we're both dead."
Marie swallowed her fear, and gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgement.

The merchant hushed his perturbed brahmin, leading it and Marie along a winding path. Every time the wind changed, he stopped dead and dropped to his knees, waiting a moment to gauge the new direction before changing his path. If not for the terrifying necessity of their slow pace, Marie would find it immensely frustrating. Over a ridge a terrifying noise was heard, an unearthly snorting and growling. Finch stopped dead and quickly gestured Marie to get down. The two cowered in a ditch, attempting to hide their scent. Even the merchant's brahmin instinctively stopped dead. Finch slowly brought his rifle to his shoulder, despite the futility.

Marie, having lived in The Pitt her whole life, was no stranger to fear. The disturbing cries of trogs, the dangers of The Mill, the constant threat of raiders. But this was the first time she had felt pure terror, deep in her gut. The feeling that her death was imminent, and all she could do was cower, hide and hope. From the north, an even more terrifying noise thundered toward her. The ground shook with huge, lumbering steps. Marie let her inquisitive nature get the better of her, peering out of the ditch. The rumbling game from a slowly moving behemoth, giant tusks protruding to each side. At the top of the ridge to the west, the two-horn loomed over their hiding place, sniffing the air to find their position. It fixed Marie's gaze, sniffing the air one more, it's front leg kicking back dirt.

The merchant, hearing the snorting, peered out at the monster. He simultaneously let out an expletive and a shot from his rifle, grabbing Marie by her collar as he scrabbled out of the ditch. The two bolted through the rubble, as the two-horn aimed it's eponymous weapons at the caravan and charged. Fearing an imminent impaling, Marie closed her eyes and sprinted as fast as she was able. Her foot caught in an exposed cable, sending her tumbling across the dirt. She curled up in a ball, terrified, for what seemed like an age. Finally she summoned the courage to look back, to investigate the sounds of struggle where one had been the thundering of a charging two-horn.

To her amazement, the lumbering colossus had stopped the two-horn in its tracks, grabbing the beast with a curious appendage and dashing it against the rubble. The two-horn trashed in agony, snorting in fury at its antagonist. The leviathan threw the two-horn towards the skeleton of a building, which was utterly demolished. The impact threw up brick dust, obscuring Marie's view of the battle. Her ponderous saviour marched into the dust, bringing its immense tusks to bear. A horrific shriek was heard, as the behemoth raised its mighty head back up, the two-horn completely impaled on its tusks. As it shook its kill free, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"A giant phant," gasped Finch, breathlessly. "A lucky break for us, but if it catches us we'll go the same way as its quarry. We're nearly to Highland. If we run, we might make it."

post apocolyptic elaphant XD