"Moira," asked the Lone Wanderer one day as she handed the shopkeeper a Lakelurk egg, "do you ever see anybody following me? A guy in a long coat?"
"Is Jericho bothering you? You should start carrying tranquilizer guns! He's so excitable, he could do with a bit of cooling down time."
She shook her head.
"Not Jericho. Long coat, broad hat, like he's trying to keep himself covered up. Mysterious. Seen anyone like that?"
"Lucas Simms?"
The Lone Wanderer sighed. No one else seemed to notice the stranger who'd been tailing her since Arefu. She'd forget about him for long periods of time, and then bang!- he'd pop out of nowhere and kill a raider she was scrapping with. She wasn't ungrateful for the help, but it could be pretty damn unnerving. And just like that, he'd be gone again, only letting her get a glimpse of a pale, pale face and eyes as gold as...something made made out of gold. She wasn't sure what that would be these days.
One more mystery of the Capitol Wasteland. If her mysterious stranger was planning to kill, rape or enslave her he'd have done it already, before she'd gotten any good at firearms. If she was going to keep from being driven insane, she'd just have to think of him as the Murder Fairy, flying around giving vigilante protection to all the good little boys and girls. She'd heard of stranger things- the Puppet Man, for one.
As long as he wasn't watching her sleep. There was such a thing as being too creepy to be helpful.
***
"On the ground, bitch!" the slaver shouted.
Fat chance, asshole. The Lone Wanderer ducked his baseball bat, and fired her pistol at his face in a vain hope that she'd remembered to buy more than just minigun ammo at the last town. I'll travel light, she'd said, I can't lug this thing halfway across the desert without getting slowed down.
God damn it.
Before she could panic over her lack of ammunition, it became clear that she had a much larger issue at hand than one pack of stock-hungry slavers. Namely, that the Murder Fairy had once again popped out of nowhere to give her a heart attack.
"Don't do that!" she shouted, but he didn't react. Instead, he grabbed her about the waist and sped off, leaving the slavers behind in a cloud of dust.
By the time they’d stopped and she had caught her breath, the mysterious stranger had worked himself into a fury.
Five Times the World Opened Up 2a/5
"Moira," asked the Lone Wanderer one day as she handed the shopkeeper a Lakelurk egg, "do you ever see anybody following me? A guy in a long coat?"
"Is Jericho bothering you? You should start carrying tranquilizer guns! He's so excitable, he could do with a bit of cooling down time."
She shook her head.
"Not Jericho. Long coat, broad hat, like he's trying to keep himself covered up. Mysterious. Seen anyone like that?"
"Lucas Simms?"
The Lone Wanderer sighed. No one else seemed to notice the stranger who'd been tailing her since Arefu. She'd forget about him for long periods of time, and then bang!- he'd pop out of nowhere and kill a raider she was scrapping with. She wasn't ungrateful for the help, but it could be pretty damn unnerving. And just like that, he'd be gone again, only letting her get a glimpse of a pale, pale face and eyes as gold as...something made made out of gold. She wasn't sure what that would be these days.
One more mystery of the Capitol Wasteland. If her mysterious stranger was planning to kill, rape or enslave her he'd have done it already, before she'd gotten any good at firearms. If she was going to keep from being driven insane, she'd just have to think of him as the Murder Fairy, flying around giving vigilante protection to all the good little boys and girls. She'd heard of stranger things- the Puppet Man, for one.
As long as he wasn't watching her sleep. There was such a thing as being too creepy to be helpful.
***
"On the ground, bitch!" the slaver shouted.
Fat chance, asshole. The Lone Wanderer ducked his baseball bat, and fired her pistol at his face in a vain hope that she'd remembered to buy more than just minigun ammo at the last town. I'll travel light, she'd said, I can't lug this thing halfway across the desert without getting slowed down.
God damn it.
Before she could panic over her lack of ammunition, it became clear that she had a much larger issue at hand than one pack of stock-hungry slavers. Namely, that the Murder Fairy had once again popped out of nowhere to give her a heart attack.
"Don't do that!" she shouted, but he didn't react. Instead, he grabbed her about the waist and sped off, leaving the slavers behind in a cloud of dust.
By the time they’d stopped and she had caught her breath, the mysterious stranger had worked himself into a fury.