Radioactive rain, a throbbing headache, and a vanishing bullet wound. Such was the start to another bizarre morning in Piper's life.
She sat up slowly, grasping her head as waves of nausea rolled over her like an impatient tide. Squinting against the harsh green sky, she began to feel warmth upon her face and turned to see that she was near the campfire Ajax set up. Ajax must've moved her here last night while she was clonked out. Speaking of last night...
Piper dared to look down at her thigh, spreading apart the cloth of the pants to further examine the wound, and found... nothing.
Well, there was something, but it wasn't what she expected. The wound had mostly healed—save for mild discoloration and scarring. She pressed on the wound, expecting it to be fake, and felt only a slight irk, probably due to how sensitive it was.
"Scarring should fully heal in a week I'm guessin'," Ajax said, taking Piper by surprise and causing her to jump, "but it's practically brand new."
Piper spun around to spot Ajax sitting on a chair facing her, left leg crossed onto her right with an M9 in her hand. She smirked smugly, almost as if she felt proud of what she did.
"Brand new?" Piper questioned, concerned with how joyful the generally apathetic merc was. "Like, mutfruit fresh off the bush brand new?"
"First off, mutfruit comes from a tree, so that ain't right," Ajax corrected, shifting her position to lean forward onto her knees. "Second off, to put it in understandable terms, that thigh," she explained, pointing to her thigh, "is probably healthier than when you were a little girlie."
Piper could only manage to stare in profound confusion, glancing between Ajax and her thigh.
"Umm... thank you?"
"Don't bother, I was takin' a 50/50 gamble anyways."
"Wow, I feel so much better about this."
Chuckling, Ajax stood up and sat on the ground adjacent to Piper, setting her M9 back into its holster. "Rain ain't lettin' up, so we'll have to wait a while longer."
"Great, more time with my favorite hitman!" Piper cheered sarcastically, pumping her fist in the air.
Ajax groaned in discontent, ignoring what Piper said and taking to her Pip-Boy to fiddle around.
Feeling a certain 'bout of courage, Piper dared to ask, "Y'know, I was wondering, what vault did you come from?"
Ajax only glanced up with a soul-piercing gaze.
"Alright, message received." Piper retracted, realizing this wasn't the hill to die on. Normally she'd press until they threatened her, but the threat was already evident.
Deciding to determine the limits of her newly healed leg, Piper attempted to flex her leg in different ways.
She stretched her hamstring. No pain.
She dropped into a squat. No pain.
She stood on both legs. Not even a wince.
Amazed at how well it healed, she turned to the stairs, thinking of searching some more, before Ajax spoke up.
"Vault one-eleven," she said, still staring at the Pip-Boy screen until she realized Piper hadn't moved, adding "That's the vault I came from."
Piper immediately snatched the opportunity and sat back down next to Ajax. "So, how old are ya?"
"Wow, you really are a journalist, huh?" Ajax bemused before taking a moment to think. "I guess technically I'm hundreds of years old, but I'm basically still twenty-six."
YOU ARE READING
Memory of Black Mold, Heart of Broken Glass
Action"How pitiful, a bandit who thinks they can run," they utter, their voice scratchy like sandpaper. or An unfortunate encounter between a mercenary and a journalist and their journey together.
