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"Ha HA!"

The door flew open following a bellow of triumphant laughter, nearly sending Ron toppling over in her seat at the unexpected outburst. She heard Grant cursing from the nearby counter as the contents of his medical kit clattered to the floor when he jumped. They both spun to the door, to see the Inn's proprietor -the Ghoul Cat Marv, crossing the room carrying an item between his ragged, half-decomposed paws, wearing a smile -at least what might have been a smile- on his face as though he had just won the lottery.

"What the hell, Marv?" Grant asked as he collected his tools. "I've heard explosions quieter than that."

"It's a damn good day, Grant!" Marv replied in his raspy, dry voice as he walked behind the counter, setting the item down on the counter. "I placed a request with Barnes for this months ago and he finally came through for me!"

"And what exactly is it that's got you in so much of a good mood that I nearly threw my drink all over myself?" Ron asked in a rather irritated tone, taking notice of the box-like item in Marv's hands.

"We're finally going to have some music in this shanty place!" He exclaimed as he turned the 'box' around, to reveal that it was in fact a radio - one that was in remarkable condition. "Barnes even tested it before he gave it to me -works like a charm!"

"...Uhhh..." Ron's expression went from someone who was annoyed to someone trying to hold back a snicker, her lips contorting into a crooked smile. "Not to burst your bubble there Marv, but the local radio stations went outta commission like... two hundred years ago man. How do you even expect to pick up a signal in THIS dreary time?"

Both Marv and Grant eyed her curiously, as though they thought she was joking. "You're serious?" Marv asked. "You have a radio receiver on that Pip Boy of yours and you don't know about Blizzard?"

It only occurred to Ron at that moment, on the day she had left Vault 228, she had cycled through the functions of her Pip Boy and found a radio reception option, and there had been two broadcasts listed. Until this moment, she had all but forgotten. She lifted her Pip Boy to her face, turning the dial over to the 'Radio' function, and sure enough, there was a broadcast listed. 'Bl1zzard' it read - clearly a play on the word Blizzard, as Marv had called it, and it was coming in strong.

"...Well then." She began as she cleared her throat and started to blush in embarrassment. "I stand corrected. I don't know how it's possible that there's even a working radio station in this radioactive era, but... I guess I've seen weirder things."

"They did teach you how to use that thing before you left 228, right?" Grant asked, earning a scathing look from the vixen.

"Bl1zzard Radio has been up and running for about twenty years now," Marv explained. "They operate out of an old broadcast station on the north end of Capilano Lake. Apparently, they fixed it up or, something like that. I had a working radio a few years ago, but some drunk asswipe busted it, and I've been stuck without music since then." He patted the top of his 'new' radio. "But that's all come to an end. Now we can get some tunes in here. Just need to get her some power, and away we go." He ducked behind the counter and began to rummage through the shelves.

"Well, I certainly can't say no to some good music," Grant agreed as he went back to cleaning his medical tools.

Ron shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "Last time I heard any music was back during my VaultSec days, but all we had was patriotic crap that replayed a hundred times a day."

"Any particular genre?" Grant asked, curious.

"Classical if I recall correctly." Ron answered. "Kind of like something you'd hear in those old sitcoms, or so I've been told."

Grant nodded in understanding and went back to his work as Marv plugged the radio into a tiny outlet behind the counter, feeding it power from the backyard generator, and then switched on the radio. It lit up as he toggled the on/off switch, and began to tune it until the speakers blasted a heavy, energetic rock & roll beat, with lyrics quickly following as the music played.

"-ion miles an hour!

When shadows fall, start breaking free,

No longer held by gravity!"

The tone of the singer changed, briefly making him sound as though he were talking through water as he went on.

"How did we get so far from the ground?"

The tone changed back.

"Speaking to the galaxy,

Received and sending back to me,

I can finally hear the speed of sound!"

Another short instrumental.

"The speed of fucking sound~!"

The vixen's ears perked up when the heavy metal song blasted throughout the room, already starting to nod her head to the beat of the music and smiling in satisfaction. "Whoa, THAT escalated quickly, and I like it!" She would say, tapping her hand against the counter as the song continued.

Even Grant was tapping his hoof as the song continued, enjoying the energetic rock music. Marv was rapping the counter with his fingers in tandem with the beat, nodding his head to match the guitar rhythm. Curious, Grant looked at Marv. "Who are these guys?" He asked.

"I think it's Nickelback," replied Marv, having to raise his voice to be heard over the radio. "Can't be sure though -it has been decades since I heard 'em!"

"Well whoever they are, there better be more from these guys; this is _way_better than the recordings I listened to!" Ron stated, still nodding her head and tapping her hand against the counter in tandem to the music.

All too soon, after many repeats of 'Going a million miles an hour!' the son ended, and a moderately deep voice took its place on the radio. "Good morning, Vancouver, Chill here and that was Nickelback's song, 'Million Miles an Hour' from the album Feed the Machine. Damn that song always has me_runnin' a million miles an hour around my studio here -I just can't sit still while it's playing! Whoo!"_

Veronica looked back over to Marv with an inquisitive gaze. "And who's this guy?" She asked.

"The DJ, I would imagine. Although when I last heard this station, he didn't sound like that," Marv remarked. "They must've got a new guy."

"So, now that we're all pumped up, let's get on to our first subject of the day -the Winter News! More snow, as we all know -do I even need to tell ya that? And, we've got reports of increased raider activity coming from Stanley. Looks like a small band of adventurers decided to try their luck in raider territory. I just want to say to those fellows out there, if you're listenin', I don't know what you're doin' out there but I suggest you turn your asses right around and book it back to the city, eh; whatever you're after over in the park there ain't worth it.

"We also have a confirmed sighting of a Deathclaw -I repeat, a damn Deathclaw, in the vicinity of Woodshade, but a week ago -the word was dropped off by a trader coming from the little hamlet just across the lake from us here at the tower. I won't lie to you, friends, that is more than a little disconcerting. As you all know, the Lynn Creek Deathclaw pack was driven out of here long ago and we all hoped that would be the last we'd ever hear of 'em.

_ _

"I certainly hope those big bad beasties aren't planning on making a comeback. They're one of those kinds of critters that just get mad if you shoot 'em. If anyone else learns anything about this be sure you let your buddy Chill know so I can pass the word along. For now, let's have some more classic rock with Mr. Osborne."

Ron audibly gulped after the transmission ended and the next song began playing, quickly glancing to Grant with a nervous expression. "...Remind me again...a Deathclaw is that big, ugly, lizard-like ravenous bastard we saw at that Raider camp, right?"

"That'd be it," replied Marv. "Sounds like Chill caught wind of your and Grant's encounter with the big beast, eh."

"And they might make a comeback," Ron went on, shuddering uncomfortably. "As if one wasn't fucking terrifying enough. Now we got a whole horde to deal with..."

"That remains to be seen," Grant assured her. "It could as well be the one we saw was a stray from their pack. If there had been a whole pack of them in the area, we'd know - they tend to leave clear signs of their presence."

"Oh, I hope to whatever fucked up god that let this post apocalyptic wasteland happen that you're right, Bucko." Ron commented as the colour returned to her face again. "Because I definitely don't want to be meeting my end out here as meat to some monster."

Grant nodded in agreement, and then turned to Marv. "So, this 'Bl1zzard' radio... what's their game?"

"Well, this 'Chill' character is a new one on me, but Bl1zzard calls themselves the voice of Vancouver. They have informants in most of the bigger settlements around the Vancouver ruins, who keep them up to date and let them share news," explained the Ghoul. "They first got their tower up and running about a decade ago, long before you or Ron got here.

"The last DJ before my old radio broke called himself Frost to continue with the whole winter theme they got going -as if there isn't enough of that going around already eh. Frost mostly played music and ran a stand-up comedy every night. It was entertaining enough, though to be frank I saw better jokes on the back of Coffee News," he rolled his dead gray eyes. "I guess Chill wants to do more -to look out for the wasteland by passing word around." He rolled his dead gray eyes, as if considering the prospect. "I think I like that approach better. Entertainment is all well and good but radio is better for getting word out."

"Hey, if it gives people like us a heads up on what's going on, then I'll listen to the damn thing every morning. Better to be informed than go out blind." Ron piped up before chugging the last of her drink and placing her glass firmly on the table, sighing in satisfaction.

"Now that you know about it, you mean," Grant reminded with a smirk.

"...Right, sure. What you said." She replied quickly, though cast him a scathing look.

The two men shared a chuckle at her expense, causing her to blush harder in embarrassment even further. "Yea, yea. Laugh it up, assholes." She growled in annoyance before she stood up from her chair, bringing her empty glass with her and holding it out to Marv. "Hit me up with one more."

"Coming right up, furs," he replied, taking the glass and going to mix her a new drink.

As they waited, the music continued to play, cycling through three songs before the voice of the DJ came back again as Marv brought Ron her drink. "Hello again, Winter Wasteland, it's time to 'Chill' with your old friend. Or, I wish you could, as I have a request -call it a job listing. Seems some of the Brutes from up on Cypress Mountain decided to come down here to raise a little hell over the past hour.

"It was a small group and our friends the Mounties managed to chase 'em off, but not before they caused a bit of havoc. We got a few wounded, and we got some damage that needs repairs. If anyone is wanting to earn a few extra Caps, please come up to Lake Capilano -look for the radio tower on the north shore. It'd be appreciated. In the meantime, let's start up the next playlist."

At the DJ's words, Veronica's Pip-boy suddenly beeped, she looked at it, seeing it had cycled over to the map, and a new location had appeared on it above Capilano Lake. 'What the fuck?' she thought. She had gained a new location marker just by hearing it? 'I really don't know this thing at all...'

"Sounds like they could use a doctor up there," Marv remarked, casting a glance at Grant.

The buck shrugged. "I suppose I'm not busy right now and I have a few extra supplies I could sell off," he agreed, looking over at Veronica. "What about you - up for a trip?"

"Uh-Yea! Sure." She replied quickly, jerking her head up from her Pip Boy and pushing her dumbfoundedness aside. "You should know I'd never pass up the chance to earn a little extra by now, Bucko."

"You any good with a welding gun or tools? They did say they needed repair work."

At that, Ron averted her gaze slightly. "Well...I haven't really used any welding tools before." She admitted sheepishly. "Though I'm sure I'll pick it up quickly enough. How hard could it be anyway?"

"That, is how things blow up," Marv remarked dryly in response to her comment.

"Hey, cut me some slack here. I'm a security guard, not a mechanic." Ron protested, pouting at the feral ghoul.

Marv gave a helpless shrug. "Granted. I guess there isn't much need for a jack of all trades in a vault."

"Well look, even if I don't know how to use any tools, I'll find _some_way to be useful around the area." Ron replied.

"Given that it's built next to Mirelurk-infested Lake Capilano, and that it was hit by those Cypress Mountain mutants, you just might," said Marv. "I'd suggest you take your shotgun with you."

Ron then started to wear what could only be described by the two as a shit eating grin on her face when Marv made that suggestion. "Now you're speaking my language." She said as she stood up from her seat. "When can we leave?" She asked as she looked back to Grant.

"Since they don't specify the ailments, I have to go by what I've heard," he said as he sorted through his medical supplies, muttering to himself. "Super Mutant attack... bullet wounds likely, broken bones definitely, possibly radiation if they brought any mini-nukes with them. I'll bring treatment options for frostbite too, for good measure." With his inventory selected, he filled his coat pockets, retrieved his rifle and turned to Ron. "Sure you're not too buzzed for the road?"

"Yea I'm good." Ron assured Grant, looking at the drink she was given, and then turned to Marv. "Mind putting this one on hold for me until I get back?" She asked.

"Can't promise it won't be flat, but sure," he replied, nodding.

"Let's be off," Grant said, adjusting his duster as he headed for the door.

"Yea hold on. Lemme get my shotgun!" Ron called back as she quickly ran back up the stairs to her room to grab said weapon. Within a couple minutes, she had returned just as Grant was heading out the door, quickly chasing after him until she was walking in stride with the buck.

They made their way down the mountain, and followed the road northwards from the Grouse Grind trail, with Capilano Lake to the west, using it as their guide as they sought the northern shore where the tower rested. The snow was falling too rapidly that day for them to see too far ahead, though mercifully there was little wind that day, sparing them the knife-like cut of the biting chill.

There was more to this road though than simply being the shortest route to their destination though, and Veronica remembered it vividly as passed the mountains on their right, knowing that somewhere along there was a path... a path to the vault that had once been her home. Vault 228...

Grant noticed her staring longingly up at the mountains and pulled down his face mask as he looked at her. "Ron? Are you alright?" He asked.

"Eh?" She stated as she snapped out of her supposed trance, jerking her head around to look at Grant. "Oh, yea. Sorry just got a bit lost in thought there." She admitted.

"Any particular reason?"

Ron hesitated a little in her answer, once more allowing herself a glance back up the mountain before she sighed. "...None." She finally responded before she began to walk again. "C'mon, let's keep moving."

He knew not to press her further, and matched pace with her as the snow crunched beneath their steps, rifle cradled in his arms as he squinted through his goggles for signs of their destination.

Finally, he pointed ahead, and straight ahead, Ron could see the silhouette of a towering structure through the haze of the falling snow. As they drew closer, she could make out a concrete foundation, built on the very shore of the lake. A chain link fence lined the perimeter, with a guardhouse by what was evidently the gate. In the previously frozen water they saw chunks of ice broken away - from below. It wasn't until they walked another quarter of a kilometer that Veronica saw the source of the movement.

What at first appeared to be crabs turned out to be something far more monstrous -the 'crabs' were enormous, centaur-like in that their upper half seemed to almost be turning anthropian, with two long arms ending in razor-sharp pincers, four smaller arms growing between them but each one ending in a smaller claw. Its legs were pointed, like a crab's, skittering along rapidly as one of them tried to climb the hill leading up to the gate until three rifle shots filled the air, perforating the crab monstrosity and sending it tumbling back toward the lake, landing just shy of the water.

"Mirelurks," Grant explained. "Or, 'Lakelurks' in this case. Either way, big ugly crab creature. Very aggressive, and very tough shell. Load up your slugs and armour-piercing ammo." He ejected the magazine of his rifle, fishing through his coat for a different magazine.

The vixen began following suite, loading up her weapons with the correct ammunition in order to take one down in the event they encountered one. "I know you told me about those things but fucking hell..." Ron shuddered a bit. "Those things better not try and get in our way, because I do NOT want to tussle with one of those."

Grant shrugged. "Not why we're out here but if you ever go hunting, the meat on them is really good," he remarked. "If things quiet down, might consider going to carve up a few. For now, let's just make sure whoever shot that one isn't aiming at us."

He turned his attention to the gate, where they could see two figures ducked behind concrete barriers, taking shots at the crab-like mutants as they attempted to approach them. "It seems this batch extended their territory near this radio tower, and now they want to chase the locals away," remarked the buck.

"...So we're going crab fishing then?" Ron asked, pumping her shotgun to load one of her slugs into the chamber

"Not what they called for, but as long as we're here," he remarked as he brought his rifle to his eye, sighting the next mirelurk to climb the hill.

The crack of his rifle was heard clear to the gate, as the two figures looked up in surprise, and then back at the Mirelurk as it lurched forward, green ichor oozing from a wound in its back where the bullet had punched into its shell. It still moved, indicating he had missed a vital, but a second shot from Grant finished it off.

"Nice shot." Ron complimented, then noticed the two figures that had exposed themselves to get a better look at what just happened. "And they seem impressed too."

"I do my best," he returned with a wry smirk, lowering his rifle and raising his hand to the two, giving a wave. "Greetings from Grousetown! Heard you needed a medic!" He called.

"Come on over -we'll cover you!" One called as his partner fired another shot at a Mirelurk coming out of the water, though the bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the shell as the creature lowered its head, denying him a quick kill.

Ron held her shotgun at the ready as she and Grant booked it toward the two behind the barriers. She saw the creature was already heading in their direction and would be on top of them by the time they reached the barrier. She took aim at the Mirelurk the second they reached the barrier, watching it rear up on its legs for an attack, then unloaded her round into its soft underbelly. The crab creature fell with a spray of gore and ichor.

"Looks like the others are holding back for now," one of the men said, turning to the two with his rifle lowered non-threateningly. "We got a moment to talk. Welcome to the Capilano radio tower."

Something about this guy's appearance rang familiar with Veronica as she studied him. He wore a long, bright red shirt with multiple pockets, black pants with yellow-striped sides, thick boots and a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black band around the top. At his belt rested a large leather pouch, old and wrinkled but functional. In his hands rested an antique lever-action rifle, but the pistol holstered at his hip was a more modern 9mm compact.

As she studied him, she suddenly remembered where she had seen that outfit before -on a mannequin in the Security office back in her vault! A memento of the past, from what she understood. The other guard standing opposite them was dressed in a similar way but carried a sub-machine gun instead of a rifle.

"Huh..." The vixen huffed a bit as she slung her shotgun over her shoulder after getting a good look at the men in uniform. "Didn't think there were any Mounties left after the apocalypse rain from above." She stated in mild jest.

"Technically, you'd be right," he replied. "We're not the original Mounties, but the founders of our organization all descend from high ranking officials from before the war, and when the time came to return to the surface, they took it upon themselves to revive the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You could call us the 'New Mounties', to keep it simple. Most people do."

"So, you're the new law of the wasteland?" Grant asked, unable to hide his skepticism.

"It is our mission to become the new law and order and help people where we can, but as you can imagine it's a full-time job, to put it mildly," the man answered honestly. "Still, I think we've done well. When we first arrived from up north, there was a slaver camp around here; we made short work of it and let that be our first message to those who would take up their ways."

Ron felt her ears twitch at the mention of the word 'Slavers'. "...Whaddya mean Slavers?" She asked.

"In the Wasteland, everything is a commodity," Grant remarked, although it sounded as though he was quoting someone else's words, and with no small amount of disgust. "It's not unheard of for people to be traded as well. Although, slavers are a rare sight around here - it's one of the reasons I like to live in Grousetown."

"And that's where the New Mounties stepped in," the 'officer' stated proudly, wearing a triumphant smile on his face. "We drove the Slavers out of North Vancouver; it's why you don't see 'em anymore."

Grant spoke up again. "Before we get sidetracked, Chill on the radio said you needed a doctor."

"We sure could. Are you here for the job?"

"I am. Who would I speak to?"

"You'll want to speak to Sergeant Leslie down below. I need to stay at my post."

Grant tilted his head. "Excuse me, 'below'?" He asked. "Below the radio tower?"

The officer smiled and put a paw on his forehead. "Oh, yeah. Right. You see, this place isn't just a tower. It's a bunker - another Vault if you will. Basically, like the vaults, it was intended as part of a long-term plan to preserve Canada -not just the people but the government too. You can probably learn more from some of the vets if you're really curious." he gestured toward the terminal. "Access is over there. The door man will show you in, but you'll have to leave your guns with him."

"...Ohhhh boy..." Ron muttered under her breath, averting her gaze when she was informed the radio tower itself was yet another vault. Now she starting to have second thoughts about coming along on this mission as her memories of her time leading up to her exile from Vault 228 resurfaced once more. She only hoped word about what happened that day didn't spread to other vaults...

Grant did not notice her melancholic expression as he made his way across the yard to the access door to the main terminal, knocking on the door when he approached. It opened, and another Mountie beckoned them inside, opening a locker in which their guns and ammunition could be stored, which he locked again after the weapons were secure. Veronica noticed Grant shift somewhat uneasily, as though he felt naked without his rifle, but he voiced no complaint beyond his body language.

In the room they had entered, to their immediate right was a door, and they could hear a familiar voice coming through it - the same voice that they had heard through the radio at Marv's, but now without the blur of static and electronic transmission. His voice, deep and charismatic, was as clear as day even beyond the door.

"It seems that daring band that wandered into Stanley Park has been spotted back in the vicinity of Caulfield Village, looking the worse for wear. As I've told you, fellow wastelanders, never wander into Raider territory without a small army at your back. Still, I'm proud to announce that most of the group has survived. Live today, fight tomorrow, friends. And know your limits. This is your old buddy Chill, and let's look forward to tomorrow with a little number by Skillet."

Grant looked at the door officer. "So, what's Chill's story -does he work with the Mounties?"

"Yes, and no," replied the officer. "When the Mounties first came here, a small group was already using the radio tower. Sergeant didn't feel right just commandeering it from them, so they cut a deal. They let us use the bunker beneath this tower as a base and use the radio if and when we need to, and we'll provide them protection in return. We haven't established ourselves out here enough that we've needed to use the radio, but the plan is that once we can start expanding our influence, we'll use it as our way to communicate with the communities across North Vancouver."

Grant nodded slowly. "Seems fair," he agreed, but Ron knew that expression he wore. Even if Grant sounded supportive of the New Mountie's intentions, she did not doubt he had already thought of a number of ways their plan could fail. 'Don't be an idealist.' This had been his first piece of advice to Veronica when they had started working together.

"How do we get below?" Grant asked the officer, bringing Ron back to attention.

"Move to the side here," the officer replied, gesturing to the wall on the right as he knelt and slipped his fingers into a hidden compartment under the floor panel below his feet. With a grunt_,_ he lifted the entire floor away. Or more accurately, revealed the floor to be a large trap door, with a stairway leading down. "Once you get down, the bunker entrance will be right in front of you. Sergeant's office is the first door on the left once you're through."

Again, Ron seemed a little hesitant to descend down the stairs to the bunker, still having vivid flashbacks of her time in her vault. The mention of the sergeant made her think back to Chief Berens, her face cringing a little as his image popped into her mind. The man who had been a role model to her for most of her life after her father had passed away.

Grant turned to her as they descended the stairs, and this time she knew there was no convincing him that there wasn't something wrong. "Ron. What's bothering you?" He asked.

Ron shook her head a little as she cleared the image from her mind, sighing and looking back to Grant before answering. "I'm starting to think coming here was a bad idea." She honestly replied.

"Something feel amiss?" He asked.

"Not so much amiss." Ron answered. "I just wasn't expecting to take a job within a fucking vault."

"It's not a real vault, Ron," Grant reminded her, mustering as reassuring a tone as he could. "And even if it was, it's not your vault. You've got nothing to worry about."

"As aware of that as I am Grant, that doesn't really do much to ease my nerves." She replied. "You forget that I didn't leave my Vault voluntarily. I was kicked out because I killed the Overseer that was driving us to mayhem. News like that travels, Bucko, and it's a good bet that the new Overseer, his son I might add, has probably informed other vaults or bunkers of what happened in his own twisted words..." She added with a mild amount of venom in her tone.

"Even if they did, who is going to judge?" Grant asked her pointedly, taking no offense to her tone of voice. "I've yet to meet anyone in the wasteland who has not done something they regret, even if it's misplaced. Look at these Mounties, hoping to bring law and order back to the wasteland. I would wager you fifty caps apiece that every one of them has been in your shoes at least once."

"Maybe..." Ron returned, his words helping more than she expected.

True, these New Mounties may have been kindred spirits to her; both her trade and theirs had been the keeping of peace, after all. Perhaps Grant was right, she thought; maybe she was worrying over nothing, but it still did not completely remove her discomfort at being in a vault again. "Let's just do what we're here to do and get out, okay?"

Grant nodded. "We won't stay any longer than we have to," he promised, and cocked his head forward. "Come on. Got patients waiting."

Having reached the bottom of the stairs, they found the door - which to Veronica's relief did not resemble the VaultTec door of the vault she had come from. In fact, it didn't look VaultTec at all. What would have been a giant gear-shaped door at her former home, there was instead a huge, sliding door, lead-lined and heavily reinforced just as her vault's door had been. Furthermore, the walls inside were not the dull, lusterless steel she was accustomed to; they were painted -emphasis on 'were' as the paint was starting to peel away with age, but the shiny, chrome floor grates had held their luster remarkably well considering how hold this place had to be.

"Was your vault anything like this?" Grant asked as they stepped through, studying their surroundings as his hooves thudded on the grated floor.

"Nothing like this." Ron returned as they entered the bunker. "Mine was...well it was a hunk of junk to say the least. Everything was starting to fall apart due to lack of proper maintenance. This place at least looks well kept."

They entered the first door on the left as they had been directed and stepped into an office. A fully equipped office, with a stainless-steel desk and a working terminal resting upon it. In the corner was a bookshelf, filled with several books of startling condition -some had yellowed in their pages but were still otherwise eligible. A green carpet lay spread out on the floor, and even Grant seemed taken aback by the carpet, as though he had never seen one in his life that wasn't moldy and rotted -or was at least whole.

Seated at the desk was a middle-aged female husky in an RCMP uniform like those above. Flanked on either side by men who also wore uniforms, but more modern than the ceremonial dress the others had worn - they had the same yellow striped pants but wore gray shirts, tucked in at the belt, and Kevlar vests. They wore peaked caps, bearing the emblems of the Vancouver Police Department on the fronts, remarkably well preserved.

'Where did they find these uniforms?' Both Veronica and Grant thought with some surprise.

The husky looked up as they entered, her two guards eyeing the newcomers warily from beneath the rims of their hats. She rose to her feet, hands behind her back as she addressed them. "Welcome to the PM Bunker Vancouver, strangers. I am Sergeant Andrea Leslie of the New Mounties. What brings you to our Vancouver base?"

"We were told on the radio you were in need of a medical professional," Grant replied, stepping forward. "I'm a wasteland physician -I could be of help."

"Do you know how to treat radiation sickness?" The Sergeant asked.

"Of course," Grant replied with a nod.

The sergeant seemed relieved to hear Grant's answer, but did well to hide it. "Excellent." She turned to the guard on her left. "Show him in. Make sure he addresses the radiation patient first, and then see if the surgeon needs an extra pair of hands."

"Yes, ma'am," the guard replied, stepping forward and looking at Grant. "Follow me."

Grant left with the guard, leaving Ron with the Sergeant and her remaining guard. The husky looked at her, studying her carefully. "You don't look like a doctor," she remarked, cocking her head at the VaultSec vest Veronica wore, before her eyes widened. "Wait... you're wearing a Vault Suit," she said, and then looked at Veronica squarely. "You're a Vault Dweller?"

"Was." Ron corrected her. "I'm a wastelander now."

"Just the same... you wouldn't happen to be from Vault 227, would you?" She asked, a tone of hopefulness evident in her voice.

She quickly shook her head to her question. "Sorry, that one wasn't mine." She answered, though she dared not go into any further detail than that, absently turning away so as not to let the number on her suit be too visible.

Leslie let out a huff of annoyance. "Damn... another dead end," she said, and then sighed before addressing Veronica again.

As she waited for the sergeant to collect herself, Veronica decided to voice a question she had been asking since meeting the guards outside. "Since I'm new out here, I'd like to know a little about the New Mounties. Who are you guys; where did you come from?"

At the question, Leslie straightened her posture, looking squarely at Ron as a drill sergeant might stand in front of a recruit, but she was quick to begin offering an explanation to Veronica's question. 'That seemed to lift her spirits,' she thought, amused.

"Our founders come from a Vault, not unlike yourself - to be precise, Vault 239, which is located far to the north of here in a community formerly known as Brackendale. Vault 239 was built for the sole purpose of preserving the old RCMP, designed to train a new generation of lawkeepers that would bring structure and order back to the wasteland upon our emergence, when the vault doors opened in the year 2247."

Leslie began to pace behind the desk as she continued her history lecture with practiced efficiency; Veronica was clearly not the first person she had given this lecture to, and probably would not be the last. "Our mission is simple; to bring law back to the western Canada, and protection to the communities that call this new world their home. We wear the uniforms of our forebears and founders to keep the ideals and principles of the RCMP alive and well."

"And this radio tower is part of that mission?" Veronica asked.

"Radio communication will strengthen the unity between the communities," Leslie explained. "Mr. Chill already assists us in doing so, spreading news we provide him with - with our ultimate goal being to keep people safe from potential threats."

Like the Deathclaw, thought Ron. Could it have been the RCMP who had caught wind of the creature, barely minutes from the town of Woodshade, and spread word of it to Chill for him to pass around? Grant had informed the town about the creature but he had made no mention of travelling to the radio tower to spread word of it to Chill.

"I hope my explanation was sufficient?" Leslie asked as Ron remained silent, probably for longer than she had intended."

"Huh? Oh, yes; very informative," she replied nervously, clearing her throat. "Well anyway..."

"Is there something else I can help you with?" Leslie asked.

"Well, I'd rather be helping out than sitting here spinning my wheels." the vixen answered. "Did enough of that during my days as VaultSec, so I'm hoping to put my skills to use if you have something for me."

"You were Security, eh?" The sergeant asked, looking Veronica up and down, and humming as she considered her. "I admit, we're a little short-handed here, due to having to keep an eye on the Lakelurks. It could be risky though; you think you can handle that?"

At that, Ron's expression turned into a smug grin. "These babies aren't just for sh-." She paused, remembering that she did not have her guns Flushing with embarrassment, she cleared her throat and hurriedly gave a new answer, trying to salvage some dignity from her new blunder. "Yes, I can handle myself. You looking to make some wasteland nasties disappear?"

"More like to find someone who has disappeared," Leslie answered. "To explain, this bunker is powered by hydroelectricity, and unfortunately, the turbines failed recently, so power is limited to a backup generator we installed -the noise of which is probably drawing those crustaceans up from the lake."

"And your guess is that the mechanic or mechanic team you sent out to fix the turbines may have run into trouble. Am I in the right ballpark?" Ron would ask.

"You're on the right track, yes. Shortly after the turbines failed, I sent a team over to the generating station with a wasteland techie who said he could fix it," Leslie went on. "Shortly after they reached the station, we lost contact. I at first assumed it was because the station is underground and that the radios couldn't reach them, but then they missed their check-in, twice.

"So, I need someone to go in after them, find out what happened -I was going to send another team but I don't want to deplete my forces here more than I need to. If you have the skill, you could also fix that turbine before we lose power here."

Ron gave the husky a nod. "Sounds simple enough." She responded. "Sadly I don't really have any knowledge on turbines or how to repair 'em. but if I find that team, then I may not have to worry about that. Just point me in the right direction and I'll do it."

"The charging station is located alongside the Cleveland Dam, near the settlement of Woodshade. From what I heard from the last team, it's a bit of a descent once you find the entrance," Leslie advised. "Find out what happened to my team and that technician, and see if they got the turbines fixed."

Then, Veronica's Pip Boy beeped, and she looked at it to find -sure enough- a new location pinged on her map. 'Classified Electrical Substation', located near the marker for Woodshade.

"...I swear, this thing's a fucking enigma." She muttered softly, lowering her arm once the waypoint was registered on her Pip-Boy. "Alright then. Better get on over there while there's still daylight."

"Do you need anyone to show you the way?" Leslie asked, clearly not aware of the Pip Boy having already designated it for her.

"I think I can manage, thanks." Ron assured Leslie.

Lesie nodded. "Good luck, miss. And thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." She said with a wink as she turned her back on her. "Thank me after I've found your team." She added as she proceeded to exit the bunker to begin her mission.

As she stepped out, it occurred to her that this would be her first job without Grant backing her up, but he would have his hands full for some time yet while he treated the patients. She could hear his voice echoing down the corridor as he passed instructions to the other doctors, having really taken charge of the situation. But his voice faded away as she climbed out through the trap door.

At the top, she encountered someone she hadn't seen before. A male lynx with dark gray fur dressed in thick, well-worn clothes and a yao guai hide coat, talking to the officer at the door. They looked over as she emerged, and the door man went to retrieve her weapons while the lynx stepped aside for her. "Good day, ma'am," he said politely.

She recognized that voice, though this was her first time seeing its owner in person. "...Hey, you're that guy from the radio...Chill, right?" Ron would ask as he stepped aside for her.

"That's me," he replied with a nod. Looking her over. "Red vix, wearing security gear and a vault suit from 228... You must be that Vault Dweller I heard about from the folks in Woodshade."

"So, rumour has been spreading about me." Ron surmised, impressed by how easily the lynx had pieced that together. "Hopefully the good kind."

"Well I can say I've heard nothing 'bad'," he remarked with a light chuckle. "Truthfully, all I've heard is that you were one of the two who encountered that Deathclaw sighted a few nights back."

"Yea, an experience I'd rather not have a repeat of..." Ron visibly shuddered as she recounted that event. "That was something truly fucked up..."

"Not your best introduction to the wasteland, I would imagine," Chill remarked sympathetically. "Anyway, good to meet you. But I imagine you're busy, so I won't keep you." As he said this, the doorman was bringing over her shotgun and pistol, holding the first out to her with the gun turned upright.

"Later." She replied to the Lynx as she received her weapons, holstering them appropriately on her person and thanking the guard afterward. "Welp... time to play hero." She muttered, lifting her arm up to look at her Pip Boy, double checking the waypoint marker it had picked up earlier and heading off toward its general direction. 'When I get back, I SERIOUSLY need to figure out what makes this thing tick...It's as if it has a mind of its own.'

~~~~~

The hidden power station was not easy to locate, even with the marker on Ron's Pip Boy leading her to it. The entrance was so close to the water, she momentarily feared she would have to take a dip in the freezing cold, toxic water to reach it. But upon remembering the trap door at the radio tower, she took a closer look at the dam, and sure enough she noticed some disturbed snow around what appeared to be the outline of a door. Recalling the trap door at the tower, it was a welcome relief she wouldn't have to swim through the lake to get inside.

She lifted open the door -with no small amount of effort. The door weighed a ton! Suddenly she found herself wishing that she had waited for Grant, but eventually, with her arms screaming in protest as loudly as the hinges, she managed to lift it open, and left it such, just in case she might need to get out in a hurry. After descending a short flight of stairs, her Pip Boy clicked again and confirmed the arrival at her destination.

"Okay then..." The Vixen drew her pistol and clicked on the mounted flashlight to help light her way through the dimly lit passage she had arrived at, then she would lift up her arm and started to fiddle about with her Pip-Boy. "Let's see what else you can do for me..." she muttered, taking slow steps forward and elevating her gaze every so often as she moved.

The Pip Boy was already creating a local map of the area, although it was hard to read as it seemed to show an overhead view with all floors included, creating a mess of a map on her screen. But as she glanced at the compass, she noticed a green tick coming from her right, though there was only a wall there.

Following the corridor, she made a right hand turn and reached a doorway, finding herself in what appeared to be a parts & storage room. The marker was coming from a locker straight ahead of her, still showing up green...

'Green usually means friendly...even so.' She kept her weapon trained forward but held her finger away from the trigger so that she wouldn't accidentally shoot who or what was inside the locker ahead of her. When she was approximately three paces away from the locker, she would then speak up. "If anyone's in there, come out very slowly with your arms in the air."

"Nobody in here but us ghosts!" A raspy voice replied hastily from inside the locker, slightly shaky, and then added -in some mock attempt to sound spooky, "leave now or we will curse you~!" The silly response was promptly followed by a hiss of "dumbass!" Barely audible, but clear.

The vixen rolled her eyes and sighed. "Really...?" She asked in an annoyed tone. "Get the fuck out of that locker before I tear that door open myself."

There was a clunk, and then the door of the locker opened and the occupant stepped - or rather fell out, followed by the contents as their head caught on the shelf above, dislodging it and sending various junk falling upon them as they fell comically onto their face with a dull 'ow'. A lapine figure rolled onto their back and looked up at an incredulous Ron.

"Hi?" The rabbit asked, giving a weak smile. "I really hope you're not a raider..."

Ron was silent for what felt like an eternity as she stared down at the lapin figure in disbelief, lowering her pistol and blinking a few times until her brain registered what she was looking at. They were thin, wearing a loose-fitting shirt under a thick jacket, a baseball cap that caused their long ears to hang at their temples like braids, and black snow pants with matching boots. She could see the bulge of a firearm at their belt beneath their coat. They had light brown fur, no undertones, and chestnut brown eyes.

Finally, after a long silence she said, "Kid if I were a raider, I would have open fired on you the second you gave yourself away." She holstered her pistol and crouched to get a better look at the rabbit. "What're you doing here anyway? You're a bit young to be scavenging by yourself."

"Hey come on! I'm not as young as I look!" The rabbit replied defensively as they rolled over and sprang to their feet. "And I didn't come here alone -the Mounties hired me to get the hydroelectric turbines back up in this place!"

"Wait, you're the one they sent here to fix this place?" Ron asked incredulously. This was the wasteland tech? This kid -Ron couldn't yet tell if it was a boy or a girl- barely looked into their late teens at best! "Wasn't there supposed to be a group with you or something? Surely they didn't just leave you here all by yourself."

"I didn't, no. There were two guys with me; Mounties, to be exact," the rabbit replied, looking past Ron as if checking to make sure they were alone. "We were followed here, by some of those big greens that went after the radio tower. The lead officer told me to hide when the fighting started. I've been hiding in that locker for hours." They pressed their knees together and squirmed uncomfortably. "Didn't see a bathroom out there, did you?"

"Not that I saw." Ron answered honestly, shrugging a bit before her expression grew more serious. "So, you got chased by Super Mutants when you got here, eh?" She asked before rolling her eyes. "Lovely."

"I think there's only one left - I got a glimpse of him after he came down, and he had some... thing with him - I don't know how to describe it besides being plug ugly. It looks like it might have been someone, once. Now it's just a... thing." They shuddered. "Anyway, it's just one big green left. He comes up here sometimes and stalks around -that's why I didn't try making a run for it. I was always sure I'd turn the corner and he'd be right there."

Veronica cast a glance at her Pip Boy, turning in a circle to see if any other bars came up, but she saw nothing on the compass. She knew the range on this device was limited though, so any hostiles could possibly have been too far away for her to pick them up.

The moment she raised her Pip Boy though, the rabbit perked up, mouth falling open as they saw the device. "That's a Pip Boy 3000! Where'd you get that?"

Ron lifted her gaze back to the rabbit. "You've seen one of these before?" She asked, her eyes widening a little in surprise. "I uh...It was a sort of parting gift, if you could call it that." She answered in an evasive manner. "Anyway, maybe you could tell me how exactly this thing works, because as useful as it is, it does unnerve me how intuitive it can be."

"Oh I could tell you lots about them! I've read everything I about them I could ever find," the rabbit replied, stepping up to her and examining the Pip Boy closely, running their fingers over it. "Seems to have all of its features. This was Vault Tec's first successful attempt at making the Pip Boy an efficient, portable device - the previous model, the 2000 series, was so big it had to be worn on your back, and you'd have an arm terminal like this to operate it with. Bulky and heavy, but it could save you a shot in the back apparently."

The rabbit indicated the control dials. "You adjust which option you want by turning this knob here," they pointed to the knob in question, rotating it to the right, leaving the map screen and exploring the other sections, divided into three categoires - status, data and items, with five sub-categories to each.

The items section... utterly baffled her. "How the hell does this thing know what I have in my pockets?" Ron asked aloud.

"The Pip Boy is constantly scanning its wearer to stay up to date with his or her conditioning," the rabbit answered before turning the knob again, showing a section marked 'Notes', though it was currently blank. "This is probably self explanatory -think of it like a journal or a diary, where you can keep memos and store any recorded files or data you get from terminals or record yourself, like an audio recording or a program."

"Last is the -hey," the rabbit's eyes narrowed. "That's odd. This Pip Boy's been messed with."

"Messed with how?"

"The V.A.T.S system is disabled for some reason." The rabbit stared quizzically at the screen in a long, silent moment, before they looked at Ron. "Did someone have this before you?"

"I have no fucking clue, kid." Ron returned. "Like I said, this thing was a parting gift. I was given zero instructions on how to use this thing when I got it." She explained with a helpless shrug. "All I've been using it for was a high tech compass and... well I guess an objective marker, considering this thing can pick up locations just by hearing them."

"Yeah, even I haven't figured that out yet," the rabbit admitted. "Anyway, the V.A.T.S system would be useful if I could unlock it -maybe with some time, I could, but otherwise you'd need the password. Probably the Overseer of the vault it came from, or their security chief, would have it." The rabbit rubbed their chin, humming. "This one was probably modified for maintenance personnel, and the V.A.T.S is disabled to keep them from using it against Security if they ever went bad."

Ron felt a momentary pang of annoyance. Berens had given her this Pip Boy, which was no longer even used in Vault 228 as there were too few for all the staff, and he hadn't mentioned it was modified to civilian standards? Then again, he might not have even known about it, or mistakenly thought he was giving her one of the Security-issued variety. It's not like these things had been clearly marked, since no one used them anymore.

Still, she had learned more in that minute than she had in the week since she had left Vault 228. She could still see the Pip Boy being useful, even with there being more to learn.

"Well anyway. We can figure that out later. Right now we need to get this turbine active again, then get you back to the bunker beneath the tower." The vixen stated, flipping her Pip Boy back to the compass setting.

"Right. Still got a job to do. You think you could handle that green beefcake and his pet... thing that he brought in with him?" The rabbit asked.

"These guns aren't for show, kid." Ron commented, unslinging her shotgun and checking her ammunition. She still had her slugs loaded, and upon checking her belt, she still had an extra eight on her; enough for two full chambers. "Where's the turbine located?"

"On the level below, opposite side of the station," the rabbit replied. "I think it was an afterthought to this dam, as it only powers the radio tower and doesn't go anywhere else. Which makes sense, as Cleveland Dam wasn't made to be hydroelectric." They nodded and looked up at Ron. "I'm Lucas. What's your name?"

"Veronica Shepard." She answered back. "Or just Ron if you wanna keep it simple." She added before pumping a round into the chamber. "Stay close and keep an eye on my six."

"Don't worry, I'll be keeping way back," the rabbit promised, fingering his own firearm and looking around nervously as they started out of the room.

'This is gonna be fun...' Ron thought to herself sarcastically as she peeked around a corner to check for any hostiles, then rounded the corner and proceeded forward, keeping her gun aimed ahead and occasionally checking her Pip Boy for any sign of the Super Mutant and its pet nearby.

A few steps out of the room and already a red mark appeared on her compass. Ahead of her was a corridor, and she could vaguely make out some heavy footfalls coming from the floor below. Whatever was making those steps, it had to be big, she realized. The super mutant, she guessed - Grant had told her they were big.

"Fuck...already?" Ron hissed under breath, looking back to Lucas and holding a finger up to her mouth. "Step lightly. The fuckwit's already under us." She instructed before continuing forward, slowly this time so as not to give away their position.

"Which way is he going?" Lucas asked nervously.

Ron quickly double checked the compass on her Pip Boy to see which direction the red marker was going, only to find it was no longer there. She turned -there it was, now behind them, heading in the opposite direction of the stairs.

"...I think it's passed under us...we should be alright for now." Ron returned, daring to heave a small sigh of relief. "C'mon, let's go before he decides to circle around."

"Y-yeah," agreed Lucas. He still hadn't drawn his firearm, but he had pulled back his coat slightly, and now Ron could see it. A revolver - an old one at that, with a chrome frame and wooden grip. She couldn't tell its caliber at first glance. 'Kid's got good taste in bringing a revolver,' She thought to herself. 'Let's just hope it's got enough punch to deal with the jolly green giant when we find him.'

They reached the stairs, and there a new red bar appeared on Veronica's compass as they reached the first landing and then began down the second set. A second hostile, and with it she could hear a sound, like a fleshy body being dragged over the metal floor. Finally Lucas did draw his revolver, revealing the snub-nosed pistol -a good size for a pocket weapon, which he aimed ahead, down the corridor.

They went three steps from the bottom of the stairs before the hideous form emerged, and Ron felt a sense of otherworldly disgust rising within her. The creature had a canid form to its head, but all similarities to any canine creation ended there. Three writhing tongues stretched out from a mouth, from a face eternally contorted with agony, and multiple stumpy legs ending in hands rather than feet dragged along a fleshy mass that was its body, the upright half of which seemed to white bony growths dotting multiple areas of its torso. It turned upon the two intruders, throwing its head side to side as it scrambled in their direction, the three tongues lashing angrily about.

"Fuck! So much for a sneaky approach!" Ron cursed as she took aim at the beast scrambling toward her. She fired one slug at the creature, causing it to reel back and roar in pain as she backed away, ushering Lucas to head back the way they had come.

"I told you it was ugly!" Lucas said, panicked as they hurried back up the stairs, the angered nightmare dragging itself after them.

"Understatement of the fucking century!" Ron replied, quickly turning around again and firing another couple of slugs into the beast when it was close enough. "Back the fuck off you mutated freak!!"

The creature made no sound beyond the wet snapping of its many tongues, even as several holes opened in its body. It dragged its bulky form up the stairs after them, swinging its head to lash those long appendages at her like a three-headed whip as it got close enough to Ron to attack. She backed away hurriedly, avoiding the snap of the tongues and felt her foot touch the bottom stairway.

She didn't want to turn her back on the creature, but ascending a stairway backward proved equally hazardous as she did not place her feet well, and her wet, snowy boot skidded off the lip of the fifth step and she lost her balance, her rump hitting the edge of the staircase hard. As she struggled to stand up, the tongues snapped forward, whipping around her leg and tightening, holding her leg fast and pulling her back with a tug of its neck.

Veronica had to let go of her shotgun as the creature lunged, attempting to throw its deformed body atop the vixen where she would become an easy kill. Her hands sank into the mass of flesh as she struggled to hold it back, turning her head away as the writhing tentacles started reaching for her face and wound around her neck...

Lucas brandished his revolver and fired straight into the creature's horrid mouth, severing a tongue with the well-placed shot and sending the creature reeling in pain. Gasping, Veronica picked up her shotgun again, and fired straight into the creature's face, sending its head and the contents of its skull splattering across the opposing wall.

"Enjoy the dirt nap," she growled.

Veronica turned back to Lucas, and was about to thank him for saving her bacon, but their reprieve was cut short - she could hear the footfalls of the creature's super mutant master coming fast from down below, each footstep as heavy as the strike of a hammer, and she could hear it shouting in a violent tone.

"Sound like new meat!" The voice called, followed by a cackling laughter.

"Ohhh FUCK me..." Ron groaned. In the excitement, she had forgotten entirely about the Super Mutant. She turned to Lucas, practically pushing him back up the stairs. "Fucking MOVE kid!" She screamed.

Certainly needing no encouragement, Lucas was heading back up the stairs hard and fast, bounding two at a time as he made a dash for the second level. Just as he reached the top step though, a gunshot filled the corridor, and Lucas went down with a cry, nearly tripping Ron as she climbed past him, turning around and grabbing him by his arms, and that was when she saw the hulking brute at the bottom of the stairs.

Grant had said Super Mutants were big, and Lucas had given a similar implications when he had called this one a 'green beefcake'. The mutant, in some previous life having the form of a canid by the shape of his head, stood eight feet tall -almost to the ceiling, possibly taller as he walked with a slouched posture. He had the body of a professional weight lifter, with bulking muscles and broad shoulders that filled the corridor making the weapon in his hands seem almost insignificant as his hands nearly engulfed the assault rifles grip and could barely fit through the trigger guard.

Ron yanked Lucas out of the way as the mutant began firing up the stairs, hauling the rabbit to his feet. "And he's got a fucking gun too!" Complained the vixen as she practically dragged the rabbit with her, looking for somewhere more defensible where she might be able to at least make a stand against the creature, praying none of the ricocheting bullets would hit her or the already wounded Lucas.

She could see Lucas was trying not to panic, but between his wounded leg and the sound of the green giant coming up the stairs, he was putting everything he had into keeping pace with Ron on his bum leg, until soon they found a room to duck - a parts room by the look of it, and Lucas scrambled hastily for the nearest hiding spot, uttering 'Fuck' under his breath over and over until he vanished behind a shelf.

Ron brought up her shotgun, checking the indicator along the tube. She counted three shells, all of them slugs. She pulled back the pump, ejecting the spent shell casing inside, and ducked behind a shelf as she heard the super mutant running up the hall toward them.

The big brute stepped into the room, leading with his assault rifle. Ron could hear him grunting and muttering incoherently as he sought out his prey, but as he took a step further, Ron emerged from her hiding place and fired. Blood sprayed from the brute's shoulder as the slug punched into the top of the limb.

"Eat shit and die, you gun-totting meathead!" She screamed as she chambered the next round and fired again, this time burying the slug in the mutant's stomach.

The mutant staggered back from the shot to his gut, tripping over the edge of the doorway and falling heavily to the floor, sending his rifle clattering down the corridor. He sat up almost immediately, glaring at Ron and, without even going for his weapon, scrambled back to his feet and rushed at her, an eager, enraged roar leaving his mouth as he charged. Ron fired again, before she dove away from the shelf she was behind, letting the mutant blunder into it with the fresh wound she had opened in side, falling into a roll.

She turned and aimed again, only to hear the gun click. Empty! She threw the shotgun aside and unholstered her pistol as the super mutant stood up, again and made another beeline for her. Four consecutive shots, each one placed center mass in his chest; he slowed, she fired into his neck, he sank to his knees. Ron stepped aside as the mutant fell onto his face, and finally, for good measure, she put one more round into the back of his head, to make absolutely certain he would not get back up again.

Then, she stepped back from the mutant, collapsing against the wall and sliding to the floor as she caught her breath, staring at the hulking form lying dead on the floor. Against her better judgement, Ron felt a smile stretching across her face.

She had just killed a Super Mutant, all by herself. Lucas had helped her with its deformed pet, but this kill had been her own. One of the most dangers creatures in the wasteland, and she had won. She could hardly believe it when she started to laugh, "survival of the fittest? Ha! How's that for 'fittest' you big green piece of shit?" She held her paw forward and flipped the bird to the corpse, still revelling in her triumph.

Lucas poked his head out from his hiding place, looking at Ron warily. "Is... is it dead?" He asked.

"Come see for yourself!" Ron replied, gesturing to the body.

"Geez, what're you so happy about?" Lucas asked incredulously, giving her a questioning look.

"Are you kidding? I just killed a mutant - no, correction, a super_mutant, one of the biggest nasties in this fucked up new world, by myself, and lived!" She returned. "Who _wouldn't be happy about that? Oh, damn I wish bucko were here to have seen me; I think I just graduated!"

Lucas blinked at her, still puzzled by her behavior. "...Is this your first time seeing one of these things?"

"Well, actually, yes." Ron answered honestly. "I've heard descriptions of them from my friend, Grant, but until now that had been it. I certainly wasn't ready for that big nasty pet of his though." She shuddered. "That shit was nightmare fuel."

Lucas shrugged. "Well then, consider yourself initiated to one of the Wasteland's hard hitters," he said. "Let's just be glad it was just one, plus its pet whatever-the-fuck they call those things."

"Yea, glad for that too," she admitted, returning her pistol to its holster before picking up her shotgun, taking that moment to reload it. "Not sure I have enough ammo for more of these guys if any were down here," she added to herself. That big lummocks had taken three shotgun shells, and its pet had taken just as many. She had used half of her heavy ammo already, and half a mag of her sidearm.

A thought occurred to her then, and she turned her attention out to the hallway, walking out to the corridor where she located the super mutant's weapon; a true relic of the pre-war era awaited her as she picked up the rifle, bearing a shape that could not be mistaken - it had been in every history book related to the war against the Chinese, and even many books before that about the Russians whom they had derived the rifle design from.

A Type-68 AKM assault rifle, a variant of the weapon system that had claimed more lives in history than any other before it. This was a true, bloodstained relic of the prewar era, she knew, though it had seen better days, speckled with rust and flaking paint that had faded to a dull grey, and the folding stock had rusted to the point she could not even pull it free of its housing. Yet, still, she was surprised to find a two centuries old assault rifle still in this good a shape - it even had an intack shoulder strap. She ejected the magazine, pleased to find it was full before returning it to its housing, and returned to the mutant's body where she found a few additional rounds, though not enough to fill a second mag.

"Alright, now that the big bad mutant is dead, let's see if we can turn this turbine back on again." Ron suggested as she pocketed the spare ammunition and slung the rifle over her shoulder. "You think you're up for it?" She asked Lucas.

"It's what I'm here for," Lucas returned with a smile, getting back to his feet - and stumbling immediately after putting weight on his injured leg. "Ow, ow; just going to take me a little longer to get there is all."

"You... need me to carry you?"

"N-No! I can walk," he protested in a slightly higher tone than before as he hobbled to the door. "Not the first time I've been shot in the leg. This was just a graze."

"Alright, but at least let me have a look at it once we're done. Better yet, I'll take you to Grant; he's a-"

"No!" Lucas piped up sharply. "I uh... mean no, thanks. I can manage. Like I said, just a graze - little cleaning and some gauze and I'm good to go."

Ron raised her eyebrow as she considered the rabbit, wondering why he was so against letting a doctor look him over. Lucas gave her no time to ask him, as he was already limping out of the room and heading back down the corridor - she hurried after him, wanting at least to make sure he didn't fall down the stairs.

At the bottom, they crossed over to the opposite end of the corridor where the mutant had been, and found the control room, with the silent turbine sitting safely behind a wall of thick safety glass and steel. They could see the water moving through it, but the blades were locked tightly in place. Within them, they could see what appeared to be a piece of bony plate wedged in the turbine and the side of the pipe, stopping its rotation.

"Well there's the problem right there!" Lucas said with a chuckle. "A Mirelurk must've molted near the intake pipe. Could mean there's a hole in the vent too; not surprising given how long its sat here." He shook his head. "Just glad its not a whole one."

"Can we lodge it out?" Ron asked.

"Oh yeah, just need to get at it," Lucas replied. "Should be a hatch on top of the pipe here. See a service ladder anywhere?"

Ron searched along the length of the pipe until she spotted a ladder, and pointed to it. "There's one," she said.

"Jackpot," said Lucas, hobbling over to it and trying to climb, only to nearly fall on his backside as pain shot up his leg and caused him to buckle.

Fortunately, Ron had been expecting exactly that to happen, and positioned herself to catch him. Strange, she thought; even for a boy of his size, she found him uncharacteristically light as she hoisted him up to his feet, helping him steady himself before letting him stand on his own.

"...Maybe I should go up." She offered. "Looks like your leg's more damaged than you thought."

"Yeah, you may be right," he admitted reluctantly. "I'll keep watch down here. The hatch should be right above the turbine. It'll likely be rusted tight so I hope you got some muscle under that vault suit."

"I'm stronger than I look, kid." Ron would say with confidence as she quickly began her ascent up the ladder. She would skip a few rungs at a time as she approached the service hatch above, wanting to get there as quickly as possible. Deep down she was still giddy with excitement. She couldn't wait to tell Grant about the day she was having so far...no doubt he'd be quite impressed with her most recent achievement.

As though to rain on her day, though, as she attempted to open the hatch, the handle refused to turn. As Lucas had said, the hatch was rusted tight. "God dammit." Ron growled, rubbing her head as she tried to think of a way to open the hatch. She thought about using her baton for leverage, but she didn't want to risk breaking it.

As she pondered how to open it, Luke suddenly turned on his heel, facing the corridor. "Hey... you hear that?' He asked lowly.

"Hear what?" Ron asked, looking back down to Lucas. Her ears perked when she did hear something, but could not discern what it was. "...Any idea on what that is?"

"Sounds like footsteps," replied Lucas. "Heavy ones... metal boots?"

The sound was getting louder. Thunk, thunk, thunk, coming down the stairs at the end of the hall...

Ron did not like the sound of it one bit. "Could be Raiders." She answered, sliding back down the ladder and drawing her pistol upon landing. "Might want to pull that snub revolver out, kid."

Lucas did so, popping open the cylinder to check the rounds before shutting it again and taking cover behind a barrel. The footsteps drew closer, and Ron was certain now that it was just one. However, a glance at her Pip Boy showed a non-hostile with a clear, green tick marking its direction.

'A friendly? Here...?' Ron thought to herself, still keeping her pistol held at the ready, but keeping her finger off of the trigger as she shuffled back a little so it would be harder for the approaching figure to see her when it inevitably entered the room.

"Ron?" A voice called up the hallway.

"Grant?" She asked, rising from her hiding place and peering out the door, seeing the buck lowering his rifle.

"There you are," he said, relieved as he continued up the corridor to join her in the control room. "Everything alright? I saw that Super Mutant and Centaur back there."

"Yea, I'm good." Ron returned, chuckling some. "Just trying to get this turbine up and running again." She would then smirk and place her paws on her hips. "So, you saw my latest couple feats, eh?"

"Your ability to fight has yet to fail you," he said. "Well done."

"Oh geez, what is that smell?" Lucas asked, popping out from his hiding place, holding his nose. "Is that coming from you, buddy?"

"And you are...?" Grant asked.

Ron gestured to the rabbit. "This is Lucas. He's... well, from what I gather, he's the guy the sergeant sent to fix this turbine. Since he hasn't contacted them lately, I agreed to take a job in making sure he was okay."

"This kid came here alone?" Grant asked, gawking. "With super mutants in the area?"

"I didn't! And I'm not a kid!" Lucas protested. "I came here with two Mounties; they showed me the way in." He lowered his gaze. "And... I don't think they made. There were four of those big bastards wandering around when we got here; they tailed us inside. I hid, and the Mounties fought them, but they never came back for me."

Grant narrowed his eyes. "I didn't see any bodies of mutants when I came in, besides the one upstairs," he said. "The mutants don't eat their own either, which means those mounties are dead." He lifted his rifle. "Let's get those turbines up and get this place locked down, preferably before those bastards come back.."

"Right." Ron agreed. "Think you could lend me a hand? The hatch is rusted shut and I can't get it open by myself."

Grant nodded. "Sure."

He leaned his rifle against the wall and followed Ron to the service ladder. Halfway up the later, she got a whiff of the smell Lucas had complained about before, and nearly gagged as she took a paw off the ladder to hold her nose. "Holy fuck! Lucas wasn't kidding; you stink like a clogged up septic tank, bucko!" She exclaimed.

"Radiation sickness tends to cause one to lose control of... shall we say, 'bodily functions," Grant remarked.

"Oh..." Ron returned, now wishing she hadn't made that exclamation. "I guess I forced my own foot into my mouth for that one..." She admitted as she began to ascend the ladder once more.

"I don't like the smell either, for what it's worth. Just don't have the means to get rid of it at this moment," he replied, following her up the ladder.

"Hopefully we can fix that when we get back to Grousetown." She said, looking up as they finally reached the hatch. "Here we are... damn thing's rusted up real good. I thought about chipping away some of the rust with my baton." She explained.

"Wouldn't have helped -the rust holding it is around the threading," Grant replied. "All we can do is try to force it open." He gripped the handle tightly, looking at Ron as she did the same. "One... two... three!" And they turned.

At first, the valve didn't give an inch; they kept trying, and soon there was a high-pitched squeak that set their teeth on edge as, against all odds, it started to turn. Slowly, but surely, the lid came undone, and they were able to lift it off. The Geiger counter on Ron's Pip Boy began to click as the lid was removed, but she could see the carapace blocking the turbine, just in arm's reach.

Grant held onto her as she reached in to pry it loose, ensuring she wouldn't fall into the pipe once it was dislodged. The vixen grunted as she wrapped her hand around a large chunk of the carapace, straining as she pulled back on it as hard as she could. "C'mon you rotting piece of shit..." She growled between her teeth as she struggled to remove the carapace, even jiggling it from side to side every so often.

"Come back up for a sec," Grant suggested, lifting her out of the pipe, where he then produced his knife and offered it to her. "Try this. But don't drop it or that turbine will be ruined for good."

"Alright, thanks." Ron returned nodding as she took the knife and leant back toward the carapace. She would then try to pry into it for a better hold on it, driving the knife as far as she could into the shell before she would begin tugging again.

With a crack, the carapace popped free, nearly flying into her face as it was released from the turbine. She caught it in her paw and Grant pulled her back out, replacing the sealed lid before her Geiger counter rose out of the green zone.

"All clear?" Lucas called, standing by the control panel.

"Crystal!" Ron called back, dropping the Carapace down to the ground below.

"Alright, trying it now," said Lucas, toggling the activation for the turbine.

With a hum, the blades began to turn as the water passed through them, and the lights in the hidden substation switched on, illuminating the interior.

Ron smirked in triumph, placing her paws on her hips as she watched the room light up. "As god said, let there be light." She then spread her arms out. "And there was light."

"Excellent work you two," said Grant.

"Thanks for showing up when you did." Ron returned. "Otherwise we'd be stuck here all day just trying to move that damned hatch."

Grant opened his mouth to reply, but paused as a pair of heavy footsteps rattled the ceiling above them, bringing him instantly to alertness. "They're back," he said, bounding off the pipe and for his rifle hastily.

"Oh, come on!" Ron exclaimed. "Can't I even have a moment to enjoy the victory?" She asked as she took out her shotgun, loading shells into the tube, but frowned as she remembered she did not have many slugs left. "I'm running low; used up most of my ammo just fighting those last two. Got mags for my pistol but I don't think it has enough punch for them unless I get close."

"What about that AK on your back -does it work?" Grant asked.

"Yeah, took it off that mutie upstairs." Ron returned, looking back at the rifle for a moment. "Ah fuck it!" She cursed as she holstered her pistol and reached for her newly acquired rifle. "May as well use it before we bite it."

"That's a heavy weapon, so mind the kick. Stick to short controlled bursts and aim for their legs first," Grant advised. "I see the folding stock doesn't come out, so try to keep it as tight to your shoulder as you can, like an SMG."

"Got it." Ron returned, pulling back the catch to ensure the first round was chambered as she took cover to the side of the door.

Grant moved some empty oil drums to use as cover, setting himself up in front of the door and with his rifle braced over the drums, his surgical eye peering down the sights as he watched for the mutants. Lucas stayed behind Ron, revolver clutched tightly between his hands.

The footsteps moved further away, until the shadows appeared at the stairway down the hall. The first of the mutants appeared, carrying a strange looking weapon that seemed to be made of three iron rods and a chunk of concrete, making a beeline towards the turbine control room. Grant did not hesitate for a second, the crack of his rifle with his surgical precision proving the giant's mortality as the bullet perforated his eye, sending him crumbling to the floor, though gave no pause to his partner coming up behind him.

With the opportunity presented to her, Ron stepped out, doing a quick squeeze and release of the trigger, firing a short burst at oncoming mutant, opening three wounds in their flank.

Sure enough, as Grant had warned, she almost lost control of her weapon even with the small burst she fired, causing her to point her gun up as she released the trigger. "Fucking!!" She exclaimed as she realigned her weapon once again.

Having failed to kill the mutant, a second shot from Grant's rifle finished the job, sending a round through its heart and collapsing it as all feeling left its body. "Keep it tight to your shoulder and plant your feet!" Grant instructed as he ratcheted the action of his rifle.

"R-Right, sorry!" Ron replied, spreading her feet a little further apart and bracing herself as she placed the stock of the rifle firmly against her shoulder, rounding the corner and taking aim once more.

The third mutant was charging, bearing not a sword, but a huge steel blade on the end of what looked like it had once been part of a flag pole. Unlike the others, this one was wearing armour; plates of metal, strapped and tied strategically over his chest and limbs, improvised though it was, spared him a fatal shot as Grant fired. The shot ricocheted harmlessly away, slowing the mutant but not stopping him.

Seizing that second of hesitation though, Ron took her own shot, firing a controlled burst, followed by a second. Most of the shots could not pierce the dense steel over the mutant's chest, but one lucky bullet skipped off the collar and went through the neck, discoloured blood oozing from the wound. The mutant growled in anger, once more charging on down the hall in full sprint. Grant sprang out from behind the barrels he had been using for cover, narrowly avoiding being skewered as the mutant ploughed through them and drove the tip of his bumper-sized blade into the wall behind where the buck had been standing, and the blade snapped clean off.

It was fortunate that for all their raw power, Super Mutants had very little sense of strategy or caution. Ron turned and took aim at its leg, planting three bullets into the calf and causing the creature to buckle. It turned on her, opening its mouth wide in a roar of anguish, and gagging as Grant stuck the smoking barrel of his rifle into its mouth.

"Shut up," he said coldly, silencing the mutant with a final bullet.

The mutant fell to the floor with a clamour of metal, sliding off Grant's rifle in the process. The buck let out a sigh, shoulder the weapon as he turned "That takes care of that," he said, matter of factly.

Ron relaxed a bit and lowered her rifle. "Jesus...That was NOT fun." She commented. "Bad enough I had to deal with just one of those freaks, but three more?" She leaned against the wall and sighed. "I'm gonna need a LOT of booze after this job's over..."

"And I will need a bath, if I can find any soap," Grant added, sighing as he wiped some grime from his face, and took notice of the rabbit's bloodied pant leg. "Were you hit?"

"Just a graze earlier," he answered. "I'm fine."

"Let me take a look," Grant bade, setting aside his rifle and approaching Lucas, who backed away before Grant came within arm's reach. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'd... rather you didn't," he said.

"I'm a physician - I can help," Grant assured him.

"It's fine, really! It doesn't even hurt anymore," he argued.

"Kid, just let him look at the damn wound." Ron said in a scolding manner to Lucas. "It ain't gonna get much better if you just let it fester."

"I can take care of myself! Now let's go - I still need to get paid, yanno!" Lucas returned defiantly.

Grant cast a questioning glance at Ron, and then back at Lucas. "This is hardly something worth risking infection, Lucas," he said. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid! I just don't need your help," he returned, shoving past the buck and into the hallway, trying to force himself to walk normally but the pain of his leg was still evident in his steps, his leg tensing each time he put weight on it. Ron saw him pick something out of his pocket, but couldn't see what it was.

"And people called me stubborn at the vault," Ron commented under her breath, having half a mind to chase down the rabbit and make her listen to reason, when a thought crossed her mind. She left the room, studying Lucas carefully as she pondered her idea. 'Could Lucas be...?'

Grant walked up to travel alongside Veronica, rifle lain over his shoulder as he spoke. "It's good you left the door open when you got here," he said to Ron. "I've crossed this dam a dozen times at least, yet I had _no_idea that was even there."

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to come here. I purely left the door open for a quick escape if I had to book it. Out." She answered. "On that note, how'd you know I was here?"

"Leslie told me," he replied. "After I finished treating the radiation patient, the surgeon only needed me to help extract some shrapnel from the other wounded. After that I was done, and then found out you'd left on another job. So, I came out to see if you needed a hand."

"You had spot on timing, I'll give you that." Ron commented. "You arrived any later and we'd have been those Mutants' next lunch."

"I think you've proven you can handle yourself," Grant returned assuredly. "And you got a new weapon out of it too."

"Oh, I got more than that." Ron answered back, pointing to Lucas. "That kid there knows everything about my Pip Boy. He might be able to help me understand everything about it."

"Assuming he sticks around after we collect our pay from Leslie," Grant pointed out.

"I may have a plan on how to make sure he does..." Ron replied with a smug grin.

~~~~~

Leslie was understandably displeased to learn that two of her best men had perished at the hands of the Super Mutants, but nonetheless upheld her end of the deals she had made with the three wastelanders, paying each of them as she had promised.

"The Mounties thank you for your assistance," she concluded with a salute to them. "If ever you were to consider joining up with us, I'll make sure to put in a good word for you."

"I'll think about it." Ron returned with a nod. "The work seems exciting enough, I'll admit that."

"I'll pass," Grant replied nonchalant.

"The offer stands nonetheless," Leslie returned. "Stay safe out there."

With that, the three left the office one after the other, with Ron heading out first. They started for the exit, making their way through the mini-vault until they reached the door, only to be stopped by Chill, much to their surprise.

"Hey, sorry to intrude, but I had a question for the lady here," he said, looking at Ron. "I take it the chief probably asked you about Vault 227, right? She's asked just about every Vault Dweller she's seen." He gestured to her vault suit, visible from her weather-proofed outwear.

Ron shook her head at Chill. "Yeah, she asked, but sorry - I don't anything about that Vault. Only one I'm aware of is my own."

"I thought so," he said, nodding as though he had already known the answer. "Well, I think I ought to tell you folks why she's so interested in it. You see, Vault 227 is the vault that the Mounties believe could change the whole Wasteland."

"How could one Vault change anything?" Grant asked. "No offense," he added to Ron.

"I agree with Dr. Pushy," Lucas added, looking Grant's way as if expecting a look of scorn from him, but to his apparent disappointment, Grant barely gave her more than a sidelong glance. "What could one vault do for the whole wasteland? It's just another hole in the ground built before the war."

"It may surprise you to know, Vault 227 and this tower are connected -not in the literal sense, but they were both built as part of a long-term plan by the Canadian Government before the bombs fell," explained Chill. "That mini-vault below this tower was intended to be used to house the provincial government of British Columbia, for them to hide out until it was safe. Similar towers with underground vaults were built in every province, west to east, all part of the government's plan."

"Oookay?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. "That still doesn't really explain why it's so important, other than the fact it was meant for the BC Premier. And how's Vault 227 connected?"

"Well you see, while VaultTec's primary focus was on preserving life, their sister company that built the vaults here in Canada thought even further ahead, and created entire vaults constructed as hydroponic farms, enough to feed thousands of people. Vault 227 is one of those vaults."

Grant's eyes widened. "You're saying an entire vault was built to create a sustainable food source for Vancouver?"

"Precisely. While the Mounties are indeed here hoping to bring law and safety to the communities around the Vancouver ruins, their prime directive is finding and securing that Vault. It'd go a long way in rebuilding Vancouver, wouldn't you say?"

"Hold on," Lucas asked. "How would they grow crops underground? Plants need photosynthesis, and they can't get that without sunlight."

"Ever heard of UV lamps?" Chill asked. "Pot growers used them all the time to grow marijuana plants in their basements to sell, at least until the shit was legalized in 2019. Technology only got better past that point, so what's to say it can't be done? Either way, it's what the Mounties are here for, to carry out the government's original plan. With a sustainable food source aside from the river, people wouldn't have to keep fighting over bodies of irradiated water anymore. There'd be fresh, non-irradiated crops to eat, and clean water to drink."

"...Shit..." Ron whispered, her eyes wide in realization as the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. "Just imagine how better off we would be with a nearly endless supply of food and water..."

"Someone could make a heck of a profit off that," Lucas remarked with a wry smile, earning a glare from both Chill and Grant. "What?" He asked. Ron then slapped the rabbit across the back of his head lightly, making Lucas yelp before the rabbit glared at her. "Hey!"

"There's a lot bigger things than profit that Vault could do, kid - have some imagination," Ron scolded. "If people stopped having to fight over resources, this place would become a hell of a lot safer. Isn't that more important than a pocket full of old bottle caps?"

"Just being practical," Lucas returned with a scoff.

"Anyway, I'll get out of your fur," Chill replied, moving out of their path to let them by. "Thanks for all your help out here. Remember to tune in to the show; I'm on the air all day every day."

"We will. Thanks for the heads up." Ron returned, giving the lynx a casual salute with her fingers as the three of them walked past him and onward toward the wilderness ahead.

On a whim, Veronica lifted her Pip Boy and turned immediately to the map screen, looking for any new locations that might have appeared. Locations appeared on the map even when Ron heard about them. Maybe she could find Vault 227 just by having been told about it...

But there was nothing. Aside from the hidden power station, no new locations had appeared anywhere on her map, which covered the greater Vancouver area at least. She could see nowhere that she hadn't already been to before...

'I'm understanding this thing even less the longer I have it!' She thought to herself in dismay, holding back her urge to just throw up her arms and scream "I give up!" to the sky overhead. She wanted to shout so loudly as to make sure everyone, from Marv up on the mountain, to everyone in Woodshade for all she cared, heard her.

"Well, I guess this is where we part," said Lucas as they left the radio tower, resting his hands behind his head. "I'm going to head back home for a nap, then look for my next job."

"Where exactly is home for you?" Grant asked.

"Oh, just over in Woodshade," replied Lucas. "Been crashing at the pub there for a while now. With the caps I made today, can finally catch up on my tab."

"Ah, hold on a second, kid." Ron would pipe up, lifting her Pip Boy up and tapping it a little. "Weren't you going to help me figure out how this thing's special function worked?" She asked with an irked eyebrow.

"Well, I could, yeah," he replied with a shrug. "But do you really need it? You seemed to handle yourself just fine without it."

"Hey, I'll take any advantage I can get if it increases my chances of not getting munched by an irradiated bear," replied Ron. "You said the V.A.T.S system can help with my shooting. I want that; it'd save me some ammo."

"I guess..." Lucas agreed. "But where you guys from?"

"Grousetown, up there on the mountain," replied Grant, pointing up to the peak in question.

"How the hell do you get up there?"

"Well if you stick with us, we can show you." Ron would answer with a smirk. "It's a nice town too, and the local watering hole's run by a pre-war Ghoul with lots of stories to tell. Plus, if you help me out, maybe I can get him to give you a discount."

Grant looked at Ron. "Uh, Ron? Don't go making business promises on Marv's behalf - he will kill you."

"Uh... right... I'll talk to him about it yet," she said. "Besides, you're a lot further away from any raiders either - they never go up there."

"But you may want to bandage that leg at least," Grant added. "It's a _long_walk."

"He's right." Ron would add in. "It is a bit of a climb. Maybe now you could let him-"

"Drop it," Lucas cut in. "He's not coming near me," Lucas' softened, and then cleared his throat. "I mean... really, I'm okay. It's cleaned up, got some gauze on it; I even had some Polymer on hand to spread over it."

"Polymer?" Grant echoed, tilting his head.

"That cream-stuff you use for disinfectant."

"That's poly_sporin_, not polymer -polymer is a term to describe large molecular compounds composed of multiple subunits, like plastics," Grant returned.

"Right. I knew that," Lucas returned nervously. "Either way, I already treated it -soreness isn't going to slow me down. I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," replied Ron. "But, you know he's going to find out what you really are sooner or later, Tomboy." She emphasized the last word, followed by a wide grin.

"Tomboy?" Lucas repeated in a whisper, and then his eyes widened in shocked realization. "Oh, shit..."

Grant stood flabbergasted for only a moment before putting a hand to his forehead and shaking his head in disbelief. "Well that explains a lot," he said. "That's why you didn't want me coming near you."

Ron was wearing a look of triumph that could have lit up a room, walking ahead of the two and snapping her fingers. "Chop, chop people, unless you wanna spend a night camping down here in the woods."

The three started forward again, making their way along the shores of Capilano Lake in awkward silence for a time, until Grant, curiously, turned to Lucas. "So... what's your real name, then?"

"What makes you think Lucas isn't my name?" Lucas asked, folding his, or rather, 'her' arms, across her chest.

"Besides the obvious, that it is a boy's name," replied Grant. "You dress like a boy and use the name of one; you must have some reason."

Lucas scoffed at him. "Easy for a guy to ask. You're never victims."

Grant stopped mid-step, turning a sharp look on the rabbit. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" He asked, the defensive tone of his voice bringing Ron to a halt, fearing that Lucas might have just found a button that shouldn't have been pushed.

"Out in the wasteland, it's easier to survive as a boy than as a girl," returned the rabbit. "You go anywhere, people see you as an imposing figure. But a girl? I'm a fuck toy, reduced either to be a plaything for some raiders or selling my body for enough bottle caps to feed myself. Do I even need to mention how much slavers love having kids among their merchandise? There's always some sick freak who'll pay top dollar for young girls."

"AHEM!" Ron loudly intervened. "Hello, I'm a girl too you know. I've been out of a Vault for like, a week, and look at me now."

"I am, and yanno what I see?" Lucas challenged, stepping forward until she was standing almost nose-to-nose with Veronica - or as close as she could be to doing so as Ron was a fair bit taller than her. "I see someone who _hasn't_been a victim yet. Just you wait, fox lady; the day will come you'll find out being a woman in the wasteland? It's a curse. Just you wait and see."

At that, Ron's composure dropped, losing her confidence and regarding the rabbit with a look of disdain . "There's a lot of ways of being a victim, kid," she said. "I know exactly what it means to be one, I guarantee you that."

"I'm so sure," Lucas returned in exaggerated doubt. "Give me a break. You know fuck all." She pushed past Ron and took the lead up the road, not meeting the vixen's gaze as she watched the road ahead with furious glare, hand fingering the bulge of the gun in her side, as though she wanted some excuse to draw it and use it.

Grant came up beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder and urging her into a slow walk as he spoke. "You sure you want her along?"

"I think it'll be worth it," Ron replied, not taking her eyes from the rabbit, trying to make some sense as to what brought the sudden shift in the previously free-spirited, tomboyish rabbit. "Grousetown needs someone tech savvy, and besides; she reminds me a little of myself, what with how independent she is." She then managed a smug grin toward Grant. "How do you think I deduced the fact she even was a girl?"

"Besides how much she didn't want me near her, and the slight pitch in her voice that's a little higher than most boys?" He pointed out.

"Hey, some boys have high-pitched voices."

"Only until they hit puberty."

"As for being wary around guys, I told you about that wolf that was always trying to get into my pants, right?" Ron reminded him. "I was wary around him too."

"That was more for your own self-respect; from what you told me, that wolf was a notorious playboy and you weren't interested in playing his game." He replied, showing her that he very well understood, and then raised his arm to point at Lucas. "From her, and how she reacted back at the vault, I get the sense that she didn't have a choice, and that you are confusing independence, with someone who is not willing to open up. Take a good look at her, Ron - just how old do you think she really is?"

Ron turned to look at the rabbit, once more studying her skinny frame. She was long-legged, and certainly hid her feminine figure well beneath the thick clothes she wore. So much so that she couldn't see much of anything to give away to the fact that Lucas was...

"Ooooh shit," Ron whispered in horrid realization.

Lucas was not hiding her natural feminine characteristics. They weren'tthere yet. May contributing factors could have made her a late bloomer in entering development to womanhood - malnutrition a likely factor, given how skinny and underfed the rabbit girl clearly was from living in the wasteland; she had heard of cases where a girl might not start development until she was fourteen. Even if that was the case with Lucas, it still meant that she might not even be as old as Ron had first assumed.

'She might even be half my age,' Ron thought, putting a hand over her heart as she felt guilty for insinuating she knew anything about Lucas and her claim about being a 'victim'; clearly, there was something here Ron was missing... and was now afraid to know.

"We have a name for her type," he said. "She's what we call a Child of the Wasteland; that can mean many things, but there is one certainty - one you need to be aware of." He leaned closer to Ron, looking her in the eye. "This girl is not the child she appears to be. The path she takes from here, it's hard to say which way she will go. But whatever road she takes, may very well be a long... or short one."

Before Ron could formulate any response, too stunned by the intensity of Grant's stare and how well he knew about these 'Children of the Wasteland', Lucas' raised voice caught their attention. "Hey, you two frozen back there?" She called back to them, having made it far ahead. "Hurry up!"

Ron jolted when she heard Lucas' voice so far ahead of her, realizing they had lost ground. She increased her pace, reaching a slow jog to catch up to Lucas, and Grant followed, though stopped within earshot of the two and stayed back to be alone with his own thoughts, wondering what the future might hold for this new girl of Grousetown...

_ _

A child of the wasteland...

Born into the world like any other child, they have been robbed of their innocence in the struggle to survive the Wasteland. Tragedy and pain have shaped their lives, and from that agony, they are tempered, and constantly tested.

We are all shaped by our experiences in life, from our childhood to our adulthood to our golden years... but what happens to us, when there's a stage of their life we never got to experience? What path will the tortured mind, denied the joys of childhood choose when the opportunities are placed before them?

What road will the man or woman who was never a child follow, when they reach their crossroads of destiny?