After the Vault: Chapter 04
    
    Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Fallout or anything that 
comprises it. This is a non-profit story written solely for my own 
enjoyment and that of anyone who wishes to read it. The story and all 
original characters are mine. Please don't use them without permission.
    
***
    
    After the Vault
    
    -A Fallout Fan-Fiction by Nutzoide-
    
    
    Chapter 04
    
    Trial by Pigrat!
    
    
    "Chopper?"
    
    That eyebrow of hers rose again. "Yes?"
    
    "You're... gay, right? Lesbian, I mean."
    
    Chopper smirked. "Yep, as bent as they come."
    
    Somehow hearing that, even from someone like Chopper, was a relief.
    
    "... I am too."
    
    Chopper's eyes left Abigail's shoulder, and she gave the girl an 
amused look while her second eyebrow joined the first in trying to 
climb up her forehead. Then, to Abigail's discomfort, she took a casual 
glace across Abigail's very naked body. 
    
    "Really now? Is that a proposition, Abby?"
    
    Abigail blanched, realising her mistake, and tugged the overly thick 
bed sheet over herself. "What? No!" Then she tried to stop back-
pedalling before she insulted the woman any more. "I mean, no it's not. 
I just wanted to say it. I..."
    
    And once again she was spilling her secrets out to someone just 
because they were there. "Look, I never had anyone I could say it to 
that might understand, okay?"
    
    Chopper shook her head and walked back around the bed to the rickety 
old chair by the dresser. "That might understand what? That you like 
fucking women? It's not exactly a rarity around these parts, whatever 
the men folk might want to think."
    
    Abigail decided to shut up. Having a heart to heart with anyone but 
Sharn was destined to leave her feeling more embarrassed and frustrated 
than when she had kept her secrets to herself.
    
    Chopper seemed to be enjoying the conversation too much to let it 
drop though. "That bad, huh?" She giggled. "You poor innocent thing."
    
    A giggle coming from Chopper sounded rather like a giggle coming 
from a hyena. It was a much lighter sound than Abigail had been 
expecting, and she couldn't quite tell whether she should be thankful 
for that tuneful amusement in place of Chopper's usual scathing 
sarcasm, or scared that the woman was losing her mind. It was *that* 
sort of giggle.
    
    "Stop it!" Abigail blurted out from the bed. "Is that what that girl 
Erin was? Just someone to... use?"
    
    Abigail's frustration turned more pointed. Screw politeness. If 
Chopper wanted her to show backbone, she'd give her all the backbone 
she could take. "And how old is she anyway? How old was she before 
you'd had enough of her?"
    
    Chopper smile didn't drop from her lips, but it did fade from her 
eyes. "Old enough to learn what her anatomy can do for her. Actually, I 
never cared enough to ask."
    
    Abigail would have recoiled further if it had been possible. "You're 
criminal!" 
    
    Chopper only laughed in response. "Ha! Given that her father makes 
the laws in this town, yes, I'm most definitely criminal. But if it 
makes you feel any better she wasn't any kind of child when I stole 
that precious virtue of hers. Not by your standards anyway. Sharn's 
maybe, but then by her definitions I was the one who matured her!"
    
    Abigail didn't believe it, even though she herself could be mistaken 
for a younger girl thanks to her slight build. "So how old is she then? 
Erin?"
    
    Chopper shrugged. "I never did find out. And I'd rather not give her 
any more illusions at this stage."
    
    "So why did you leave her then? She didn't live up to your 
standards?"
    
    This time chopper's smile did fade, if only slightly. "No, she 
didn't. Erin's a good girl, but that's all she'll ever be. I don't want 
that kind of stone around my neck."
    
    In Abigail's mind, that confirmed her opinion. "So you didn't love 
her, like I said. She was just a toy you got bored with."  
    
    Chopper shrugged and rose from the chair. "She was a nice diversion 
while it lasted."
    
    "Stop avoiding the question! If you're so confident just tell me! 
You didn't love her, did you!?" Abigail accused.
    
    Chopper stared down at Abigail as she sat defiant in her bed. "I 
haven't loved her for a while, and I wasn't looking for love when I 
chose her. But I did for a bit. That's the problem with people who are 
easy to love. It's just as easy to fall out of love with them once you 
find out who they really are."
    
    Listening to that, Abigail's anger deflated, and left her feeling 
very young and foolish. But she still didn't like what she had heard. 
"So what was she really like then?"
    
    "Weak."
    
    "That's not fair. We're not all strong and pitiless like you 
people."
    
    Again, Chopper shrugged, as if it didn't matter. "'Pitiless'? Can't 
help that. You saw what happened. That wasn't just chance. She can't 
deal with real life, because of her trust and gullibility, and her 
'pity'. She can try, but when it comes down to it she doesn't want to 
become the kind of person who will survive out here. She's too happy 
being protected behind Daddy's shotgun. She'll make a good nurse or 
welcoming committee, but she doesn't want to be any more than that." 
    
    And what was wrong with that, Abigail thought? It sounded like a 
good life, if she could live it. "So what about me then? What if I 
don't want to stay around until you all realise I'm a stone around your 
necks? What if I want to have a normal life like her?"
    
    Chopper gave her a long, studious look, as if she was examining her 
aura for the truth or the lie behind her questions. "... Then stay. 
Shack up with her and get her off my back if you really want. Maybe 
you'll make a nice pair of victims waiting to happen."
    
    And then she gave that cocky, self assured smirk. "But I don't think 
you will. If you were the damsel type, why'd you crack that Diamond's 
head in with a burrow nut? You might be completely fucking stupid, but 
you survived it. Maybe we can beat that idiocy out of you and leave 
your nerve intact. You can play the shrinking violet all you like, but 
you survived in the desert with a body full of drugs, and you survived 
taking on those damned Diamonds. In your place, Erin wouldn't have."
    
    The thought made Abigail deeply worried. Just how crazy had she been 
to do what she did in that fight? She was lucky she hadn't been killed. 
"What if I don't want to be that kind of person?"
    
    "You're the one who threw the burrow nut. You *are* that kind of 
person. And most everyone in town knows it." From the look on her face, 
Chopper was loving this. "Stories travel fast in town, and they're 
making up some real good ones about their new mystery Scav, who took 
down Jack of the Diamonds and one of his guys with nothing but a nut 
and the raider scum's own weapon!"
    
    Abigail's eye grew wide. These people were saying *what* about her? 
"You're kidding, right?"
    
    Chopper shook her head. "Nope. You're going to get an interesting 
welcome, I bet."
    
    "Oh god." I don't even know these people, she thought. What on earth 
would they be expecting of her? And how was she supposed to behave if 
she was going to be treated like some sort of road warrior. "What's a 
Scav?"
    
    "Scav: Scavenger. Most of us travelling types are Scavs, hunting up 
old equipment or lost loot and the like. And anyway, if it's any 
consolation," Chopper added, frivolously changing the subject "all that 
RadAway I pumped into you looks like it's done its job. On the outside, 
anyway. Any major radiation problems would have hung around, but it all 
looks and feels fine. Except the scarring on your back, but that's not 
going to kill you."
    
    For once Abigil was grateful for both the change of conversation and 
what Chopper had to say. Amazingly the doctor had actually sounded like 
one. "My skin still itches though."
    
    Chopper waved off her concern. "Give it another few days and it 
should finish complaining. Your body is just fighting off the last of 
the rads. And that sunburn. Tell me as soon as your urine settles down 
too; which it should, soon enough. Then I can take you off my root mix 
permanently. 'Till then I'll get Sia to try you on a little proper food 
in the evenings to tide you over."
    
    Thank god for that, Abigail thought, though what might be provided 
as 'food' was anyone's guess. Hopefully being in town would mean it was 
something she could stand to look at on her plate. 
    
    And clothes. She wouldn't be able to stand putting on that filthy 
jumpsuit again until it was washed to within an inch of its life, no 
matter how familiar and comforting it was. 
    
    And just how was she going to accomplish that? She couldn't walk 
down the hall and put her clothes in the laundermatic. 
    
    "Um, that's good. Thanks. Could you, uh, ask Sharn to come back 
please?"
    
    "Oh?" Chopper asked, smiling broadly. "You fancy your hand at 
converting her with that sheet clad look?"
    
    Abigail frowned and shook her head. "I need to borrow some clothes, 
okay?! And get my own ones washed. I only have the one set since you 
threw out my others, along with my hair ring I'm guessing."
    
    She didn't say it, but it was clear in her voice what she thought of 
that, and what the little hoop of metal had meant to her.
    
    "One of the larger bits of scarring," Chopper said in return. 
"Behind your left hip."
    
    Abigail felt behind herself on instinct. There was a slightly raised 
line that was more tender than the rest, and looking back at it she 
could see that it was the one Chopper meant.
    
    "Sorry we had to ditch it, but it wasn't doing you any good."
    
    Abigail conceded the point, but made it clear that she still wasn't 
happy about it. "I thought as much, but you could have told me."
    
    Chopper ignored the retort, and instead answered Abigail's other 
request. "You'll have to wait for Sia, they'll all be negotiating our 
pay with our employer, but if you want to wash that skin suit I'll get 
the owner to bring a bath and a scrubbing board. I could probably do 
with a wash myself."
    
    Abigail had noticed, and 'probably' wasn't the half of it. 

***
    
    It soon turned out that Abigail's room wasn't quite the refuge she 
was hoping for, because between the four of the travellers they only 
ever rented two rooms between them no matter where they were. So, Sharn 
and Kyle got one, and Chopper got the other. Rathley wasn't welcome in 
either, but he was an outdoorsy type and pitching a tent beneath the 
stars was as much shelter as he could ever stand. In town it didn't 
matter anyway, because he would be in some bar or brothel all night 
anyway.
    
    As such it shouldn't have come to Abigail as a surprise that she 
would have no privacy as she bathed in the slightly bent tub. She had 
no caps of her own to pay for a room; she was staying there on 
Chopper's dubious generosity, and the dirty woman did not have the 
decency to leave her to it. 
    
    She did, however, allow Abigail the first bath, and then allow her 
to wash her jumpsuit, before she herself would step into the cooling 
and increasingly murky water. And she hadn't tried to make 
conversation, or leer as Abigail had bathed. Abigail was grateful for 
the quiet as she washed, while Chopper organised her medical box.
    
    In fact, it had been Abigail's turn to stare as she had bathed. It 
seemed as though a lot of work went into that white and red tin of 
Chopper's. She would grind up roots and stalks, mix them thoroughly 
with a splash of solution she poured from an old Nuka Cola bottle, and 
once the cloudy mix was rendered down to nothing but liquid she would 
re-fill her hypodermics and stimpak casings with perfectly steady 
hands. Of course, that was after the needles had been boiled and 
cleaned. She even washed her hands before filling each one.
    
    For the first time, Chopper looked like a professional. As Abigail 
had stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in her sheet, she had 
conceded that the woman was desperately skilled. Unpleasant to talk to 
perhaps, but not wholly deserving of the accusations Abigail had laid 
upon her. Abigail knew first hand how potent those drugs of hers were, 
and she was making them out of nothing but scavenged meds and herbs.
    
    "Chopper," she finally asked, once she had finished grinding her 
suit against the washboard, "where are my things?"
    
    She wasn't about to try having a conversation again, not after the 
last one, but she could at least stop being so stubborn and silent 
after watching the woman work for over an hour. 
    
    Chopper looked up from her mixing bowl. "Over there, by the door. 
Sharn sorted it out for you. Except that pip-computer-thing. We haven't 
found out where Rathley stashed it yet."
    
    That was a name that Abigail had not thought she would ever hear 
again. "My PipBoy? Really?! I thought you said you had to throw it 
away! Because of the radiation."
    
    Chopper gave her a look that asked just how dense she was. "When did 
I say that? I *said* everything with your '42' logo on it was in decent 
shape. Rathley just claimed it as spoils when I stripped you in the 
desert. That was my excuse to give you his shades."
    
    Abigail reached up to the tinted glasses on her face. After all that 
time without it, believing her own personal data companion was as lost 
as her vault, this news came to her like a shot of adrenaline to a 
failing heart. She laughed as the irrational relief flooded her. "Oh 
god! Hahaha, oh thank you Rathley, you bastard!"
    
    Chopper pointed down to the bath tin while Abigail smiled up to the 
ceiling. "Are you done with that water?"
    
    Abigail nodded, walking over to collect the single large bag by the 
door. "It's all yours!"
    
    When she turned back, bag in hand, she hadn't quite been prepared 
for the sight of Chopper stripping to take her own bath. That heavy and 
hot looking coat came away to reveal a very beleaguered shirt that did 
just as good a job of hiding the woman's figure, since it was too large 
even for Chopper's tall body, and hung shapelessly from her more than 
amble chest. 
    
    Abigail looked away so as not to see beyond that, and focused on 
lugging her bag to the large bed. The woman obviously had no modesty of 
her own, as well as having no consideration for the modesty of others. 
True, she had caught glimpses here and there out in the desert, but 
this wasn't the desert any more. This was their room, and Abigail no 
longer had the vast outdoors or her own insignificance to distract her. 
The last thing she needed was to be getting images of Chopper naked.
    
    Then she paused in unzipping the bag, and the thought struck her. 
What on earth did she have to be embarrassed about? Chopper had already 
seen, and even felt, every inch of Abigail's body. Chopper had no 
modesty because she didn't *care* if Abigail saw her. And turnabout was 
fair play. Chopper had taken the time to evaluate her, so why the hell 
couldn't Abigail return the favour. 
    
    So she did. Chopper had mostly disrobed by then, pulling off her 
loose leather trousers under which nothing was left to the imagination. 
The only underwear she wore was her utilitarian and clumsily stitched 
bra.
    
    Which she evidently needed. Overall, despite the fact that her face 
flushed hot at her own barefaced voyeurism, Abigail didn't know whether 
to be impressed or not. Chopper's body was still in good shape, so it 
was true that her dust-lined face made her look older. She was probably 
only thirty or so when it came to it. After becoming so used to seeing 
the muscles on Kyle's, Rathley's and Sharn's bodies, Chopper seemed 
abnormally normal. She had biceps, but beyond that she was the kind of 
softer shape that a woman was supposed to be, if the amount of teasing 
Abigail had received over her own toned physique was anything to go by. 
    
    And Abigail had been both right and wrong in her earlier 
assumptions. Chopper was robust, but not stocky as Abigail had 
expected. She had a bit of a gut, probably from too much alcohol, but 
it only stood out because her waist and backside were unexpectedly 
slim. All the width was in her hips and thighs, and of course that 
bust, which fell by three inches when she undid the large safety pin 
that held her bra together. In fact, Abigail thought they looked an 
awful lot better in their natural shape and not crammed up against 
Chopper's chest, but then who was she to say so when she had never even 
had enough of a chest to bother with anything but a sports bra, and 
then only in the gym or on stage.
    
    She was no model, that was for certain, but as much as she wanted to 
Abigail's didn't think she looked *bad*. But then again, the marks of 
this harsh surface showed on Chopper's body clearly. There was an 
unmistakable and very deep gunshot scar in her right thigh, and more 
than a few slash marks across the backs of her shins. Abigail didn't 
want to know how or where she had got those.
    
    But Chopper had noticed the attention she was getting, and told her 
anyway. "Rats did most of them. Mainly pigrats. As long as you can see 
a common wasteland variety rat you'll be able to gut it no problem, and 
molerats - giant furry bastard rats, four feet at the shoulder and 
without the tail - you'll see coming a mile off. Pigrats, they're still 
small enough to hide, like a small, fat dog, but they'll shred a child 
up in ten seconds flat because they're just as vicious as any of them. 
I still can't get used to fighting them, because they look like such a 
joke."
    
    "And this," she turned to show Abigail the bullet scar in her leg, 
"was a point-four-four that went straight through another Scav before 
it ended up in me. Digging that out of taught me why not to hang around 
in a firefight."
    
    Abigail stared morbidly for a moment longer before turning back to 
her bag. "I see."
    
    "No verdict?" Chopper asked, but by the tone of her voice she was 
obviously teasing her again.
    
    Abigail responded in kind, though without the edge in her voice this 
time. "I thought you'd be fatter."
    
    Chopper laughed. "Of course! We've been living on iguana, brush 
sprouts and water for a week! It's the business men and water merchants 
who get fat. They've got the caps for real food."
    
    Abigail found herself smiling at Chopper's tone for once. That was 
an opinion they could both agree on, be it water merchants or Vault-
Tec. Those with the monopolies were more than worth their disgust.
    
    As she laid her things out on the bed Abigail was glad to see how 
much of her packing had survived. Her miniature library was all there, 
most of her med kit - minus some stimpaks and a lot of RadAway, her 
maintenance multi-tool was there, all the survival essentials except 
the knife, and even all of that useless money, now just worthless green 
paper. And her PipBoy would be there too, as long as Rathley hadn't 
sold it. That would be the best. It had the map-markers and technical 
holotape schematics she had downloaded from her vault libraries, but 
more importantly right now, her diaries and notes. She did not want to 
forget the vault now, or anyone in it, and that would allow her to 
remember them as she wanted to, no matter how painful those memories 
might have become. 
    
    "Hey," Chopper then said from the tub as she rested her arms on the 
rim, "those too."
    
    Abigail followed Chopper's finger, and saw the jacket-bag that 
contained her loot from the dead Diamond.
    
    "If you don't want it then trade it away," Chopper followed up, "but 
that's yours now girl, by Corva's law. Make the most of it, because 
most towns aren't so generous."
    
    Abigail looked at the makeshift bundle with unease, but that was how 
the surface worked. If she didn't claim them, then someone else would. 
Either she profited from the murder she had committed, or someone else 
did. A justified murder, if there was such a thing. If she had not 
killed him, surely someone else would have. And there was no shame in 
bettering herself. If she did not, how would she survive out there?
    
    She got up, and brought the bundle over with nervous fingers. The 
black, gold-lined leather did not feel good in her fingers, and she 
unwrapped it hurriedly before casting it aside. That would be the first 
thing to get rid of, she thought. 
    
    Honestly, though she didn't really want to touch any of it, she was 
surprised how much the raider had carried with him on their little 
fiasco. Most obviously there was the crowbar. That was discarded on top 
of the black jacket and pants, to be got rid of as soon as possible. It 
was still stained with the raider's blood, and it was too unwieldy as a 
weapon anyway. If she needed it as a tool, she had her multi-tool set, 
which she was far more used to. 
    
    The Diamond's vest and boots were set aside next. She wasn't about 
to stoop to *wearing* a dead man's things, and they certainly wouldn't 
have fitted her regardless. But then she did start finding things to 
keep. Seven bottle caps lay haphazardly among the loot, and she took 
those and set them with her own wad of useless paper cash. She doubted 
it was worth anything much, but it was money. She guessed the gaudy 
silver medallion would also be worth something. There were also a few 
stimpaks, which still looked like they were filled with the proper 
meds. The seals around the plungers of the hypodermics were still 
unbroken. 
    
    "Chopper? What's this?"
    
    She held up another, similar hypodermic, but this one did not bear 
the Stimpak name, and was hooked up to a couple of additional capsules 
by a few thin tubes. It looked fairly brutal, with such a long needle. 
    
    Chopper huffed derisively. "Psycho. Save if for trading with other 
raiders, when we find some worth trading with. It's a nasty little 
drug. Good for those fuckers if they can't be bothered to wear proper 
armour. It knocks out their pain receptors, and gives them a real rage 
high. Don't use it."
    
    Abigail carefully laid it back down. "Right."
    
    Abigail was about to move on to examine the last of it, the rifle 
and a clip of ammunition, when the door opened to announce the rest of 
their troop as they returned. 
    
    Sharn and Kyle were beaming. "Not bad for a busted trip. Four 
hundred a piece, in hard caps!" Sharn said, lobbing a rattling bag to 
Chopper, who caught it two handed from the bath. "He wasn't too happy, 
but a job's a job! Uh, you know that water looks pretty nasty, 
Chopper?"
    
    "Oh, hey," Kyle said, being the first to turn their attention to 
Abigail. "Checking out your gun? That's not a bad one, for a rifle. 
Solid kick and solid power."
    
    Rathley's following comment mirrored Chopper's enquiring look. "You 
think she can handle it though? No offence Sugar, but you're kinda 
small for a rifle."
    
    "Hey, if I can handle a rifle I'm sure she can, right Abby-girl?"
    
    Abigail didn't know, being thrust into the subject so suddenly. Kyle 
evidently couldn't wait to engage her with his own appreciation for 
firearms, and Sharn seemed similarly excited, but Abigail already had a 
sketchy past with them. "I don't know. I don't know anything about 
guns, except I think I nearly broke my shoulder with a shotgun when I 
killed that giant monster raider, back in the vault."
    
    Kyle gave her a contemplative look as if sizing her up for it, even 
though she was dressed only in her sheet. "Well, maybe it would be a 
bit strong for you. Well, I've got a spare fourteen mil pistol to trade 
after this afternoon, if you want to make a deal for it. And I'm sure 
Sia'd take the rifle shells off your hands."
    
    Sharn nodded, smiling, while Abigail looked lost. "What's 'fourteen 
mil'?" Then she shook her head to clear it of all the gun-babble. She 
had a more pressing issue in her mind. "Rathley, can I have my PipBoy 
back please?"
    
    Three more pairs of eyes turned to the old wastelander, who frowned 
back at them. Then he dug into his back pocket, and pulled out the 
wrist mounted computer. "Trade you. My shades, Sugar."
    
    "Rathley, just give it to her!" Sharn growled. "How's she going to 
get herself a pair of her own if she can't see?!"
    
    Kyle was much more direct, and with a quick swipe of his hand 
grabbed hold of the computer. "Let it go old man."
    
    Abigail watched it all in slow motion. "Stop! Don't you dare break 
it!" She reached up and pulled the shades from her nose, shutting her 
eyes so as not to be blinded by the late sunlight that still came 
through the window. "Here. Just give it back."
    
    She felt them taken from her, and then the PipBoy was placed in her 
hand. "There you go Sugar. Nice that someone's reasonable around here," 
Rathley said. "You sellin' that shit on the floor?"
    
    Abigail let out a resigned sigh. "Yes. I don't think I want the gun 
either."
    
    Rathley chuckled. "A pair 'a shades ain't gonna cost that much 
Sugar. You two women have fun being nekkid together, I figure us three 
want to be shoppin' right about now!"
    
    "You're such a prick, Rathley," she heard Sharn say, but neither she 
nor Kyle were going to argue. The deal was done, and with a minimum of 
hassle, which right now was just the way Abigail wanted it. "Sit tight 
Abby-girl. I'll find you the best pair in town. And make sure the old 
bastard doesn't cheat you."
    
    "Thanks."
    
    "Hey, *reasonable*, remember Sugar?"
    
    And then the sound of them all stomping back out. Abigail had to 
wonder just what they had taken from that nasty pile of blood earned 
winnings.
    
    She heard Chopper stand up from the bath, and the red glow behind 
her eyelids became faint. "Open your eyes, Abby," she said, "the 
window's shut."
    
    She did. She could see, but everything looked the wrong shade of 
brown or yellow or green. Like a monitor after someone's child had 
fiddled with the brightness and contrast settings. Chopper's body 
looked at the same time too pale and too vibrant, and the glistening of 
the water was starkly white on her skin. 
    
    "From that look of yours I guess I either get a decent score after 
all, or the world still doesn't look right."
    
    Abigail flushed again and looked away. "Stop teasing me."
    
    "Aww, look at her blush. Heh, if you do ever want to lose that 
cherry of yours then let me know. I can assure you, you'd enjoy it."
    
    Abigail did not need to hear that right then. "No. Just... Sorry, 
but no."
    
    Behind her, Chopper shrugged and reached for the towel. "Why sorry? 
You're gay, clean, mostly rational... I might as well say the offer's 
there if you change your mind."
    
    What was Abigail supposed to say to that? "Do you say that to all 
the naive ones?"
    
    Chopper smirked. "Not all."

*** 
    
    For Abigail it was a tense wait for Sharn to return with her new 
shades. She knew that, for all her bluster, spending puberty without an 
outlet for her sense of romance had left her rather idealistic, so she 
wasn't really comfortable sharing the room with someone who had just 
said they would be happy to sleep with her, but who probably didn't 
really care one way or the other beyond that. Abigail had always hoped 
that, should she ever find another lesbian in the vault, she could 
learn to be less high minded about such things, but that would have had 
to come with time. 
    
    As it was she spent that hour trying very hard to forget just who 
had just propositioned her for a roll in the sack, and focused on her 
belongings. From the look of them she was, like her rescuers, little 
more than a scavenger. If that was the first impression she had made on 
the townsfolk then she hoped she could soon prove herself to be more 
than that.
    
    When that awkwardly quiet hour was up, and Chopper had once again 
clothed herself and thrown out the now filthy bath water, Kyle and 
Sharn returned looking triumphant with her new winnings. When she 
enquired about Rathley they said he had left them to it soon after they 
had gone out, no doubt to end up very drunk in the less reputable part 
of town. 
    
    "Forget about him," Sharn said, brandishing their purchase. "I bet 
these will look a lot better on you than his crappy old shades did."
    
    The glasses she held up were a lot less bulbous looking than 
Rathley's, and more like the ones Abigail had seen in the vault cinema. 
She had actually liked Rathley's because they really did cut out all 
the bright light, but she took these with a grateful smile. They were 
at least *hers*. "Thank you, Sharn. Uh, Sia."
    
    Kyle grinned. "Hey, she's learning."
    
    Sharn gave him a put out look. "And after I spent twelve years 
getting used to 'Sharn', you lot get her mucking about with my name as 
well."
    
    Abigail held up her hands to quell the pair. "Um, I think you look 
more like a 'Sharn' anyway."
    
    Kyle put on a mock sigh, while Sharn gloated. "Spoilsport," the gun 
man said, but he conceded his defeat.
    
    "Come on, put them on already," Sharn followed up, after giving her 
man a light smack.
    
    Abigail felt grateful for her eagerness, and did as she was told. 
Once again the world dimmed, and its colours faded back into their 
'normal' tones. She looked around the edges of them, and was grateful 
to find that very little of that over-saturated world could be seen 
around them, unless she looked down at herself and the bed-sheet she 
wore. She got up from the bed and opened the curtains over the windows, 
squinting as she did just in case. To her relief, the world outside 
didn't blind her from her peripheral vision, and she was surprised to 
see the deep red of the sky as the sun set. It really didn't feel like 
the day was coming to an end.
    
    "They're good," she beamed back at Sharn and Kyle.
    
    "They look as much," Kyle appreciated. "Get some proper clothes on 
and they'll have to think twice before messing with you. Though you 
might want to bulk up before you start mouthing off to any more 
raiders."
    
    "She doesn't look like a tough-guy," Sharn chastised mildly. "That's 
the 'cool Scav' look, Abby-girl, right to the bone. Especially with 
your hair like that too. If you look like that - like it's effortless 
even after coming out of the desert - then people will know you're more 
than just a junk-heap rat."
    
    Abigail reached up to adjust the shades on her nose. That was 
exactly the kind of impression she wanted to give. She wasn't going to 
be a scavenger. She had the knowledge, and even if she was a bit 
unlucky and anxious about her skills she could learn new ones and hone 
what she already had. She was going to try and be something special. 
Someone people needed, even if they didn't know it. 
    
    She smiled, feeling as cool as those men on the big screen had 
looked. "Good."
    
    Then again, maybe some of that cool was the draught, since she was 
still wearing nothing but an overly thick bed sheet. Chopper handed her 
her now dry jumpsuit, and Abigail took the hint while the others smiled 
or chuckled at her beam of confidence. 
    
    Once she emerged from behind the open wardrobe door, now dressed, 
Sharn handed her a bag much like the one she had tossed to Chopper 
before going for her sunglasses. "Here, these are your too."
    
    The bag was much lighter than it looked as Abigail took it, and the 
contents rustled and rattled.
    
    "I got some money for you too," Sharn said, as Abigail untied the 
string at the top and peered in at the bottle caps. "Those old crowbars 
aren't worth much, unless they've busted the skull of someone 
important. Since there's a buzz about you and the Diamond you finished 
off, I could talk him up a bit."
    
    Abigail didn't know if twelve or fifteen bottle caps was a lot of 
money, she guessed not, but it tripled her 'cap wealth' as she was 
beginning to think of it.
    
    And now that she had it, Sharn was interested in seeing her spend 
it. "Come one. Let's go get something to eat before it gets dark! You 
too, Chopper!"
    
    Kyle gave Abigail a smile that tried to look assuring. "The brahmin 
steaks here are pretty good, as long as the wind hasn't changed the 
last few months. 
    
    At the mention of food Abigail felt her stomach rumble. The thought 
of eating anything other than salty root mush was tempting beyond 
belief. Even if she was apprehensive after these peoples' lizard 
barbecue.
    
    "I'm starving! But what is brahmin?"
    
    "Brahmin, err... brahmin?" Sharn tried to explain. However, without 
any other point of reference herself, she once again ended up looking a 
little wrong footed by Abigail's lack of basic surface knowledge. "You 
know, beef?"
    
    "Brahmin are what used to be cows," Chopper clarified, "more or 
less."

***
    
    Brahmin, Abigail had decided, were delicious. The real animal meat 
was fibrous in a stringy but more succulent way than the synthetic meat 
she had eaten before. It got stuck between her teeth, but the 
unfamiliarity of it had been a minor gripe when she could eat real food 
again after so long.
    
    And it had been very real. Cooked brown but still soft, the steak 
had been better than she had both hoped and expected, filled with the 
taste of coal and some kind of sweet barbecue syrup. Ballast had been 
toasted unleavened bread, and there was not a root or twig in sight. To 
be able to chew her food and have it actually release its flavour onto 
her tongue was heavenly. Perhaps it was the hunger and desperation for 
a proper meal that made it so good, but for the first time on the 
surface she had truly *enjoyed* the night. And she hadn't had to kill, 
gut or skin the animal first, which had really helped!
    
    It was only the next morning that she found out what brahmin 
actually were. Taking her on a tour of the town Sharn had happily 
agreed to show her to the brahmin pens when she had asked, and as 
Chopper had said the night before they really were cattle, more or 
less.
    
    In fact the 'more' seemed to be more applicable than the 'less'. 
Abigail had balked, and had needed a moment to make sure that her new 
shades were not playing tricks on her. Each of the deep brown animals 
had two heads sprouting from their hunched and scraggy looking 
shoulders. Two heads that seemed to work rather well together, one 
keeping watch while the other grazed on the brittle yellow grass at the 
edges of their pen, or flapping their ears at each other to better ward 
off flies. 
    
    And it was not only that, but the majority had heads of both sexes, 
if Abigail remembered her animal history lessons correctly. One bull 
head, complete with horns, and one cow. And every animal had udders. 
They were, as Sharn explained, fully hermaphrodite, and the infertile 
aberrations of their species were those brahmin whose heads shared the 
same gender. 
    
    Abigail guessed she should have been more shocked, especially given 
her dinner the night before, but it was the first time she had seen a 
cow of any kind in the flesh, and while more than a little odd, it 
didn't really disturb her any more than when she had first seen Sharn, 
Chopper or Rathley. More worrying was the way their backs hunched with 
lumpy and unhealthy looking flesh, while further back on the beasts she 
could have sworn that they were so malnourished their ribs actually 
emerged from their skin. 
    
    "Eh, that's just the way they are," Sharn had said, giving a shrug. 
To her, this obviously looked normal. "They look a bit rough, but if it 
weren't for the brahmin we'd be screwed. They help farm, pull the trade 
caravans, and provide milk, meat, leather, bone, whatever you want. And 
they survive alone in the desert, so they need almost no looking after.
    
    "That," she said pointing to one of the bony, two headed cattle, "is 
what keeps us going half the time."
    
    That was rather a sad omen, Abigail thought, but then she had been 
no better off underground, where machines had kept everyone alive. And 
these people were obviously no worse off for it than she and her family 
had been. 
    
    She and her Scav friends had been given a rowdy standing ovation 
when they had walked into the run down restaurant the night before. 
Kyle and Sharn had lapped it up, while Chopper had simply found them a 
table and ignored the back slappings the others had got, though she had 
accepted her share of free drinks. Abigail had only taken one, but one 
had been enough. Whatever it was they distilled there, it was enough to 
make her cough after only a moderate sip. Apparently the acidic tasting 
beer was more the men's drink, and the 'sippin' liquor' was the 
women's, unless it was gulped back in full glasses at a time. That 
looked lethal by the faces they pulled after each glass, but taken in 
small sips it felt more like a harsh, perfumed whiskey.
    
    Abigail had been stunned by the vibrant atmosphere. The roof of the 
place was full of holes where the sheets of corrugated metal did not 
match up, and the tables were little more than wagon wheels mounted on 
metal poles driven through the floor and into the dry earth. Not a 
single chair in the place matched any other. 
    
    And none of the customers cared one bit about any of it. They drank 
and sang and gambled (Kyle actually stayed back to take many a man's 
bottle caps at cards that night), wearing everything from full body 
armour to strings and scraps that Abigail would barely have called 
swimwear, and aside from a 'good natured' bar fight everyone got on 
with a smile on their faces and slabs of meat on their plates.
    
    And Chopper had been right. Abigail was now the toast of the town, 
and had apparently taken down three raiders with her bare hands 
according to a couple of the less sober men. Questions came from all 
sides, everything from her three sizes to what superpowers her jumpsuit 
gave her, and Kyle and Sharn had needed to clear the air around them 
with force as well was harsh language before they were allowed to eat 
in peace. Though not before Abigail had received five new offers of a 
good time, and two marriage proposals. 
    
    It was, all in all, a very strange place. But at least she had 
enjoyed the food, and her body had accepted it with no qualms at all. 
If anything it had helped, because as of the new morning she was no 
longer losing blood in the embarrassing way she had been. That had 
pleased Chopper, even if it was only because Abigail would no longer be 
consuming her liquid medicines at such an alarming rate, but Sharn had 
assured her that Chopper was actually pleased for her health as well as 
her own supplies. If the rough woman took pleasure in anything, it was 
in seeing people recover, and the nastier their situation the happier 
Chopper was after they were back to proper health.
    
    And if it had been purely self congratulation she probably wouldn't 
have tagged along with them as Sharn showed Abigail around. 
    
    "Their shit's also the best fertilizer around if you can break up 
the dirt enough to mix it in," Chopper said, adding to Sharn's list of 
the boons of brahmin. "But as you can tell, it's not worth the stink 
unless you want to get Farmer's High off it."
    
    "What do you mean?" Abigail could smell the large, glutinous pats 
surely enough. They were foul, but the rest of the explanation eluded 
her.
    
    Sharn clarified, "Some farmers say that if you work around brahmin 
crap enough it's almost like a hit of mentats and buffout combined, 
only with more colours!"
    
    "Except that most junkies desperate enough to try it just make 
themselves sick, because of the stink," Chopper added with a chuckle.
    
    "Mentats? More drugs like that psycho injection?" Abigail asked, 
being bombarded with yet more new names.
    
    "Eh, they're tablets. The mentats aren't so bad," Chopper said with 
a shrug. "They're good for the brain. Until they wear off that is, then 
you get a four day hangover from hell and your head turns to mush. But 
they're the only chems I've ever touched. Buffout's nasty, like 
psycho."
    
    "Stop being morbid Chopper," Sharn said, taking Abigail's shoulders 
and leading her away. "Come on, the market's this way. That's what this 
town is *really* good for."
    
    As they walked around Abigail would have agreed if she had known the 
first thing about what she was looking at. The stalls and shops full of 
clothing held her interest, but only until she realised that she was 
looking at things that held very little practical value for her. 
Nothing was handed out as needed, and at the same time nothing was 
priced. The air was thick with the sound of bartering, which had never 
been a part of vault life. She had swapped things between her friends, 
but that had been friendly trade, in which you either got back what you 
gave out, or gave it away because it was no longer of any use and 
didn't expect compensation. 
    
    Bartering in the shops was far more mercenary and cutthroat. Some 
people were even arguing over the worth of a jacket or boot right down 
to a single bottle cap. Worse, Abigail did not know what she wanted or 
needed. The clothing that attracted her had none of the protective 
qualities that Chopper and Sharn advised, and yet the ones that did 
were stiff, bulky and uncomfortable. And that was not even armour, as 
she had seen some people wearing just to go about town in. 
    
    She didn't even want to think about the weapons stalls that Sharn 
tried to show her. One of them had the same gun that Kyle had received 
as his loot, and had said would not have given her problems like the 
shotgun had, but it was a fat, ugly thing with a black, ridged dome 
where the hammer was on other smaller guns. It looked like the head of 
a monster from the movies, and Abigail took a disliking to it almost 
immediately. 
    
    While her lack of enthusiasm seemed to dishearten Sharn and annoy 
Chopper it didn't matter anyway, since she had brought none of her loot 
along with her to trade. She just wanted to see the town, and could 
worry about things like guns and clothing later, once she knew more 
about what she would need. She was really there to see the other 
inhabitants of the town, and watch them as *they* shopped. It was 
intriguing, and she fully intended to learn from them. The fact that 
watching them helped to enthuse her towards the idea of barter-shopping 
was a bonus. Once she had begun to understand how it worked it seemed 
like it could be more than just a chore. It was a personal challenge to 
find what you want, and then persuade the owner to part with it for 
your own least wanted junk.
    
    It also looked like her unwanted fame might also end up working in 
her favour when she did come to sell her blood stained spoils. The 
shopkeepers and stall owners all made a point of saying how they would 
give her a special price if she bought their wares or even sold her 
very visible jumpsuit to them, and afterwards Sharn let her know which 
ones were genuinely discounting their stuff, and by how much. One of 
the clothing vendors, while lacking in protective garments, was all but 
offering to give some of her things away, presumably for the exposure 
her shop would get from it, and one of the cart stalls was generous to 
say the least when it came to the scraps of ammunition in his piles of 
knickknacks.
    
    It wasn't just the shopkeepers either. Just by wearing her blue and 
yellow suit she was turning heads, and more than a few shook her hands 
or tried to recruit her for some familial problem or other they had 
before Chopper and Sharn could send them on their way. They weren't for 
hire right then. Only one passer by was allowed to hold them up as they 
wandered the streets, but he drew Abigail's attention just as she drew 
his.
    
    He was a ghoul.
    
    The awkward and unsightly brahmin had warranted her pity, but with 
this old man she did not know whether to scream or be struck mute. 
Thankfully it was the latter, because if he really was just an old man 
she did not want to offend him, but her companions had been right. He 
was nothing but a corpse, and a grisly one at that.
    
    At first his slow, shuffling limp had drawn her attention, but once 
she had singled him from the rest of the crowd she could see that his 
unstable gait was the least if his problems. His skin was dark, looking 
rubbery and greening at the edges, and beyond those edges his bare 
muscles showed through as brown-red lumps. In places they too were 
missing, making him loll from side to side as he walked, and she 
dreaded to think which organ it was that could be seen between that 
small patch of exposed rib and his old jacket. 
    
    Worst though were the patches of wiry black afro that peeked out 
from under his lumpy head-scarf, and the right eye that stared out from 
its bare socket, with no eyelids to hide the bone. He was a terrible 
sight, and yet he smiled crookedly, showing his only five teeth, as if 
he was having a whale of a time simply having run into her.
    
    "Looky there! Hold up, Vault Girl! Let me get a look at ya'!"
    
    Abigail couldn't have moved even if she wanted to. She had seen 
zombie movies before, and didn't like them. This was worse, but at 
least Sharn whispered her support to her as the old ghoul staggered 
over to them. "It's okay, he's just a ghoul. Just an old guy who caught 
too many rads."
    
    Abigail nodded, and tried very hard to say hello. She even managed 
it, to the old ghoul's amusement. 
    
    "Heh, lookit ya'. Guess you never seen a ghoul before, huh? Well 
don' worry, I won't bite ya'. Ain' got the teeth for it anyhow, ha ha!"
    
    Abigail had to concede that, as he laughed, his teeth really didn't 
look too secure in his red-green gums.
    
    "Um, nice to meet you," Abigail managed, and the ghoul's smile 
turned more gentle. 
    
    "Yup, 'sa real pleasure to meet ya' too, girl. I know what you vault 
types are like when you just come up, seen enough of 'em, and you done 
good to take a swing at that Diamond. Ain't many folk'd take that risk 
without a gun and some gunnin' skills. Sure as Hell old Chris'chun 
wouldn't have."
    
    He chuckled, "Tha's me by the way, Chris'chun. Eh, anyhow, I won' 
keep you from ya' business. Jus' wanted to say that we appreciate what 
ya' did. An' it makes my day to see another smooth skin girl as pretty 
as our Erin. I guess tha's what stayin' behind closed doors gets ya'! 
Much better than us outdoor types, eh? Ha ha!"
    
    Abigail could only laugh weakly in reply. "Ah, thank you. But, it 
doesn't look.. so bad."
    
    She only realised what a stupid thing it must have been to say as 
she had said it, but Christian just laughed it off. "Heh heh, nice of 
ya' to say so, girl, but I got eyes." He tapped the bone of his right 
eye socket to make the point. "But nice of ya' to say. We got used to 
it, so don't let it worry y'a none. I'll be there cheering for you 
against that pigrat same as all the others, s'afternoon, so you get 
ready good. I'll be puttin' my caps on ya'!"
    
    Suddenly Chopper didn't seem as amused by the conversation, and 
Abigail instinctively denied whatever it was she was supposed to have 
done. "Uh, what does that mean? The pigrat is what gave you those 
scars, isn't it Chopper?"
    
    Christian blinked with his one lidded eye. "Eh? You been signed up 
for the games s'afternoon, girlie. They say you're takin' on the pigrat 
pen. Ya' didn' do it ya'self?"
    
    "She'd better not have done!" Chopper growled, but it was obvious 
that she also believed Abigail was innocent. However, the anger on her 
face still worried Abigail.
    
    "Really, Chopper, I didn't. What am I supposed to do, fight? You 
said pigrats were dangerous!"
    
    "Tha's the point," the old ghoul confirmed. "Wouldn' be much sport 
if they weren'. Damn, I know ya'll do good, girl, ya've got the guts 
for it, but tha's no good not to tell ya' 'bout it."
    
    Then Sharn's furious voice drew their attention. "Rathley, that 
bastard!! I thought he was joking!"
    
    Christian let out a sigh, and through his gruesome features he gave 
Abigail a sympathetic look. "Oh, 'im again, huh?"

***
    
    When they got back Sharn didn't give Rathley a moment even to turn 
around to greet them before she decked him. It was unsporting perhaps, 
but Abigail had been more than ready to do it herself, had her wild 
haired friend not beaten her to it. She caught him square in the left 
temple, and despite his muscular frame he hit the floor easily, and 
with a very satisfying thud.
    
    Watching, Abigail could see that Chopper was simply watching with a 
look of derision, while Kyle just stared in surprise. The sudden attack 
must have caught them both off guard as they had been tallying their 
ammunition. "What's he done this time?" Kyle asked, as if enquiring 
about the perpetually dry weather. 
    
    "He wasn't kidding about the rat fight," Sharn said, glaring down at 
the man. She lashed out a foot towards his stomach, but Rathley was the 
better brawler, and he caught her coming kick and pulled her clean off 
her feet. Wham!
    
    "Why would I joke?" Rathley growled as he staggered upright and 
slapped his temple with the palm of his hand to clear his head.
    
    "Well, if you were serious you might have let her know," Kyle 
replied, just peering over the bed to see if Sharn was okay as she 
cringed on the floor, now holding her own head. "I get the feeling they 
didn't go in for blood sports in her vault."
    
    "No, we didn't," Abigail confirmed, giving Rathley a glare of her 
own. "And I'm not going to fight animals just so you can have a laugh, 
or bet on how many limbs I'll lose! I won't do it."
    
    Unfortunately Chopper had bad news for her, which was why her 
expression remained so dark. "You won't have a choice. If today's games 
have been written up then they'll make you do it. They know you, and if 
you don't live up to his promise, they'll lynch you for it."
    
    Rathley shrugged and sat back on the bed, a safe distance from Sharn 
in case she decided to go for him again. The girl wasn't a danger to 
him, but he didn't want the fight on a wooden floor. "What's the 
fucking problem? Of course I wasn't gonna tell you Sugar," he said to 
Chopper, "you've got a serious stick up your ass about the rats. And 
you saw what Abby did to that Diamond. She could spit a pigrat just as 
easy. I'll be betting five hundred caps on it!"
    
    "I've never even seen a pigrat, never mind fought one!" Abby argued 
back. "I saw what they did to Chopper's legs!"
    
    "And *she* couldn't have hit a brahmin with your burrow nut, never 
mind braining a raider at, what, twenty five, thirty feet?
    
    "Listen Sugar." Abigail was amazed that he was being so serious 
about this. "You want a break out here? This is it. These townies 
already think they know you. They think you're a natural talent, 
straight out of the vault and already cleanin' up the town, Merc style. 
You come in with people like me and Chopper, the bad crowd, and 
suddenly we're all doin' the hero routine right behind you. It doesn't 
matter that you're a know-nothin' with us keepin' you out of the shit. 
They're gonna to expect you to keep it up, keep provin' how goddamn 
fuckin' awesome you are, and that's exactly what you're gonna do."
    
    Abigail was moved by his little speech, but at the same time it was 
totally impractical. "How?! I'm no hero! I could have died out there. 
I've never fought properly before in my life!"
    
    "Bah," Rathley spat, "there's no thing as fightin' properly, Sugar. 
If you don't take every chance you get then you get shot! If you gotta 
sneak up on the bastard with a shotgun to kill him, then you do it. And 
you did, if you're as honest as you say you are. No-one kills the 
deathclaw, but you did, right? Blew its fuckin' head off!!"
    
    "Screw your fairy stories you old bastard," Sharn spat, but she 
didn't do anything more than stand and glower.
    
    "And she doesn't get a shotgun this time," Chopper warned. "Abby, 
you haven't used a spear before, have you?"
    
    Abigail shook her head. "No."
    
    "Then it's time to learn. Kyle, get moving. You've got until the 
match to teach her."
    
    Kyle smiled and clapped his hands together. "Oh, it'll be my 
pleasure!" And by the sound if it, he intended to enjoy it a lot more 
than anyone should have. Abigail could only worry what he intended to 
do to her. 
    
    "Here's the thing Sugar," Rathley said to her as Kyle and Sharn 
found his armour, and Chopper waited for them impatiently, "old Butcher 
there is right." He poked a thumb towards Chopper. "You don't wanna be 
takin' no risks. If you're gonna try and play up to this town, you do 
it on your terms. They love the games, so you're goin' in for one that 
you can't lose. No way you're gonna go down to a pigrat, as long as you 
fight like you mean it."
    
    He gave her an unpleasant, cruel grin. "A new face like yours, and 
comic book pretty to boot? It won't matter if you can't even handle a 
gun. You come out of the rat pen like a champion, and you'll fool them 
all!"

***
    
    When the time came Abigail was left with no illusions about how easy 
such a thing might be. She would only be allowed a spear in the rat pen 
- that was part of the sport - and even after three and a half hours of 
practice with Kyle she was still an absolute amateur. She knew it had 
been that long; she had been timing it on her PipBoy. 
    
    The weapon was almost as tall as she was, and no matter which way 
she swung or stabbed with it the haft of the thing was always in the 
way. She just couldn't aim right with the stick up against her chest, 
or swinging outwards and pointing the jagged metal tip in an awkward 
direction just before it hit the ground. 
    
    Put bluntly, as Kyle had done, she sucked. But any weapon was better 
than none, and it would let her attack the oversized rat from a 
moderately safe distance.
    
    Then again, as Chopper told her time and again, pigrats weren't just 
rats. Hell, even the normal rats weren't just rats compared to the 
dirty little rodents Abigail had read of, and even seen on educational 
holotape vids. In the wasteland rats were a very dangerous pest in 
numbers. 
    
    And no matter how stupidly they were named, pigrats could be killers 
if you didn't pay attention for that one vital moment. As Kyle had 
tutored her, attacking the creature should be her second priority. Her 
first was to make sure that she never gave it the chance to get past 
the reach of her spearhead. Those four feet would be the only thing 
keeping the pigrat's claws from her skin.
     
    To say that Abigail was nervous, standing in the large animal pen 
and surrounded by forty rowdy townies, would have been an 
understatement. Above the din of the impatient audience the bookie was 
shouting out the odds he was getting, and drumming up the last bets he 
could before the rat was brought it. It didn't do her nerves any good 
to hear that the betting was split almost down the middle. She was the 
favoured fighter, but not by much. She caught an argument between two 
betting men over who to place their shared winnings on.
    
    "She's got nothing on, and she a vault dweller! I bet she'll be too 
scared to throw in the towel once it's cut her up a bit. She's 
mincemeat!"
    
    "Dude, she caved in a Diamond's head 'till there was nothin' left! 
And look at her, she's standin' there in those fuckin' shades, cool as 
ice. She'll brain the thing in under a minute!"
    
     Abigail wished she had his optimism, but she was playing the part 
as best she could. She was disliking Rathley more by the day, this was 
just another reason to continue, but if she was stuck in the fight then 
he did have a point. She had to show these people she wasn't someone to 
be trifled with. Even with clear skin and a blue jumpsuit, she was one 
of them. Or rather, she needed to be what they *wanted* to be. After 
this she would be seen as more than just a curiosity or a novelty: it 
was a step towards being accepted as one of them.
    
    She looked towards her companions at the corner of the pen. Kyle and 
Sharn were both cheering with the crowd, and making sure she knew who 
they were rooting for. Sharn's smile was lighting up her face again, 
and despite how creepy she found Kyle's demeanour she was grateful for 
the same smile from him. He had worked her hard with the spear, but he 
had been a patient teacher. He had wanted her to enjoy learning the art 
that he made look so easy, to the point that she would have practiced 
for another two hours if there had still been the time. 
    
    Rathley just smiled, looking very pleased with himself. As he had 
said, he had bet a full five hundred caps on her to win; one of the 
largest bets of the game. The other big spenders had been betting the 
other way, but that just gave the 'normal' folk, as Abigail guessed 
they were, hope that she might live up to her reputation so far, and 
win them some caps into the bargain. 
    
    Chopper on the other hand; her face was unreadable. It was the same 
mask she had worn early on, back in the desert. A sort of caustic, 
mildly amused curiosity, but one that said she was only there humouring 
her because there was nothing else around to alleviate her boredom. She 
might just as well have been studying someone's entrails, for all 
Abigail could tell of her expression. She could have at least looked 
anxious about the whole thing, Abigail thought. Or annoyed, that would 
have been good enough.
    
    In the end her attention was brought back to the dirt floor of the 
pen when the bookie stopped his calls for bets, and traded his cloth 
cap for a cowboy hat. He was also the announcer. 
    
    "ARE YOU READY RAT-FANS?"
    
    The forty strong crowd whooped in reply. They were very ready. The 
announcer strode in a leisurely fashion to the gate at the far end of 
the pen, thirty feet away. 
    
    "Today we have some surprise rat bait!" he said, swinging his arms 
around in theatrical fashion, playing up his meagre role. "In the blue 
and very skin tight corner we have Abby Iseley. She's fresh from the 
mythic Vault 42, deep in the heart of the Cobalt Line!"
    
    Evidently Rathley had been spilling his guts in setting up the 
fight. The crowd went very quiet. This was all news to them, and it 
only served to make Abigail seem more mysterious.
    
    "She's survived the radiation, the burning desert, and rumour has it 
she even survived the dreaded Deathclaw! If that's true, it's no wonder 
the Diamonds never stood a chance. But!" he paused for dramatic effect, 
bowing low, "luck and chems might have kept her alive out there, and 
one lucky shot does not make a hero! Today we will test what this girl 
is made of... with this!"
    
    His arms went up, to finally show off the two burley men standing 
behind him, each with a pole in hand. And at the end of the poles, two 
taut nooses around its body, was the pigrat.
    
     "Our new rat, guys, gals and ghouls! We had to lock her away from 
the others because she'd already killed the other new rat we had been 
saving for this very fight! Bruce caught this one making for our 
brahmin two nights ago, didn't you Bruce, and I knew we just had to 
show you all just what a bitch she is!" 
    
    He motioned to the pen wall, and the two men lowered the animal in. 
"So that's enough yap! Abby, better get that spear up, because here she 
comes!"
    
    Abigail did take the spear in both hands and watched nervously as 
the two nooses were pulled from around the animal, and it got to its 
fat feet with a high-pitched, grating snarl. If she was honest, had she 
not seen what this kind of creature had done to Chopper she would have 
wondered what all the fuss was about. There certainly more 'pig' than 
'rat' about it. It was about that size, she thought, roughly equivalent 
to an average dog, and it was pink and hairless from the tip of its 
pointed snout to its stubby little tail. Its skin looked like it should 
have burnt under the high sun, but at the same time it looked tough and 
leathery. 
    
    And it was *fat*. It was fast on its feet, Abigail could see that as 
it scampered around in all directions looking for the nooses that had 
held it, but it was far wider in the belly than it was at the 
shoulders, and its legs had a crooked, almost waddling gait. It would 
have looked funny, if not for the two inch nails that sprouted from its 
toes, and the huge rat incisors that appeared every time it opened its 
mouth. And despite its appearance it looked mean. Its black, beady 
little eyes were very expressive, and as it calmed down and began to 
survey its new surroundings they locked onto Abigail with a look that 
really did speak of murder. It was angry, and it was going to do 
something about it. 
    
    With everyone else safe behind two sheets of wire netting and a wall 
of wood it made Abigail its only target, and it lived up to Chopper's 
warnings. Despite its waddling bulk it was fast, and had crossed the 
pen in seconds, giving off its grating squeak all the way. Abigail did 
as she had been taught, and jabbed the spear not at the creature but at 
its path, and at the same time she danced to the side. The pigrat tried 
to run around the spear, but found her missing, and the spearhead drew 
across the dirt in front if it, warding it backwards. Abigail carefully 
stepped away, keeping the distance between them, but making sure that 
the pigrat was focusing on trying to move around the weapon, and not on 
getting to where she was going to be next time. 
    
    That, she found, was her greatest advantage. She didn't have a 
second to think about attacking, but she was even faster on her feet 
than the pigrat, and a damn sight more agile. When it did eventually 
find a hole in her weak defences she used the spear as leverage and her 
feet left the ground, making a huge arc of sand in the air as she 
flipped to land behind the animal. Then, as the pigrat turned, she 
dragged the spear back to herself, raking the jagged edge of the blade 
across it. The hairless rat screamed, and she drew blood, but despite 
the cheering of the crowd it was clear that she had done almost nothing 
to actually injure the thing. The cuts were just superficial, and only 
served to anger the animal.
    
    As the fight wore on Abigail found her hands sweating. The longer it 
lasted the clearer it became that she was not an able fighter, while 
the pigrat never slowed once in its attack. The day was hot, like every 
day on the surface, and Abigail would not be able to dance around for 
hours on end, while she guessed that the rat would have no trouble. She 
remembered what those two gamblers had said, she could always give up, 
but she wasn't ready to do that. If Rathley was going to make life 
difficult for her, she was damn well going to make the best of it. But 
how to attack the thing without letting it get close? It could cross 
the four feet between them in the time it would take her to pull back 
for a single thrust. She could not afford to have her legs gouged open 
by those claws. 
    
    And then she slipped. She thrust wide, and the pigrat took advantage 
of the gap to rush around her blade and right up to her. She pulled her 
leg away from its swinging claws in a flash, but the pigrat just hopped 
from one front paw to the other, never even needed to move its rear. 
Its claws found her leather boot rather than her shin, the only 
remotely protective clothing she was allowed, but those two inch claws 
pierced right into it, digging into the leather and then the skin 
below. 
    
    Abigail screamed, panicking now that the animal was right on top of 
her, and she had no way to defend herself. She staggered, pulling her 
feet in line to keep her from falling altogether, but that gave the 
pigrat another swipe at her. This time she jumped back bodily, dragging 
her feet along the ground, but those claws still found the exposed blue 
of her jumpsuit, and cut into her right leg again. This time the gash 
was deeper than the puncture beneath her boot, and it really made her 
scream. She fled across the pen, her limp countered by her natural 
speed, but she *was* tiring, and her athletic skills had obviously 
dulled since leaving the vault and becoming an invalid. 
    
    Somewhere in the background the crowd was getting louder, and the 
announcer was saying something about her dwindling chances, but she 
only caught it as an indistinct blur of sound. The pigrat was in hot 
pursuit across the pen, and in a focused move of retaliation she lunged 
at it with full force, wanting to pay it back for that cheap shot 
against her. She was right on target, and the rat was just the right 
distance, until at the end of the thrust the haft of the spear just 
couldn't get any closer in to maintain its aim. Her arm was too close 
to her chest again, and it pushed the point of the spear aside. And she 
was attacking with too much bodily force to compensate for her weakened 
muscles. The spear crossed the pigrat's path, blocking it, but it stuck 
into the ground hand, and for a moment Abigail could feel the wood 
bending in her hands. 
    
    It gave a loud creak, Abigail unable to pull back her weight fast 
enough, and shattered. 
    
    The wood split apart messily, sending splinters down onto the rat 
that now ran around the falling spearhead towards Abigail's feet again. 
Only her instinct as an acrobat saved her from another mauling, as she 
quickly threw the broken pole aside and turned her forward fall into a 
summersault. She tumbled twice, head over heels over head, crying out 
each time her bleeding leg hit the ground, until she was once again a 
decent distance from the rat. The crowd was howling again, both in 
astonishment and at seeing such a good chance for blood spoiled.
    
    Abigail whipped around to see the pigrat turning back to face her, 
unconcerned about the weapon it scampered over. Without that spear 
Abigail knew she had no chance, and while even more adrenaline was 
pumped into her she still had the presence of mind to realise what she 
had to do. Limping as little as possible she tried to stay three steps 
away from the pigrat at all times, and circled around the pen, trying 
to reach the announcer so that she could forfeit the game. 
    
    But as she did so, pausing a moment by the wall, a throaty voice 
caught her from the audience as she passed by that side of the pen. A 
rotten looking hand joined those that slapped her on the shoulders as 
she passed. The other voices she ignored as they urged her on, they 
just wanted the excitement now that the stakes had been raised after 
breaking her weapon, but she actually let that voice distract her for a 
moment.
    
    Christian the ghoul gave her his grisly looking smile. "Ya' can do 
it, can't ya, girlie? I'm reconin' ya got more'n that to ya!"
    
    Abigail let that encouragement give her confidence, at least enough 
to dull the pain in her bleeding leg. The squeal of the pigrat drew her 
attention back to the fight, but that surge of bravery took her away 
from the edge of the ring. She cursed her sudden bravado a second later 
when she realised that she was running right for the bulky animal with 
no plan formed, but with nothing else to do she kicked the dry earth up 
and into the pigrat's face with her good leg. The animal squealed 
again, blinded for the moment, and that allowed Abigail a clean run 
past it. She stooped, picking up the upper half of the spear, and the 
crowd cheered as she readied it like a short sword. There was only a 
foot or so of haft remaining, an uneven foot at that, and another foot 
of jagged metal, but it was better than nothing. 
    
    She stooped low when the obese rat, its eyes watering, ran at her 
again, and swung the weapon to ward it off and keep it at a distance. 
However, she was out of ideas after that. She certainly couldn't lunge 
forward without letting the pigrat have a swipe of its own, and the 
jagged edge of the blade was made to stick in the flesh after piercing 
it, so even when she hit the rat's snout it only drew a small scratch 
across its face.  
    
    But the crowd wasn't idle either. This had become a risky fight, and 
they were loving it. And they wanted more of the show Abigail had 
already given. To begin with it had just been the odd call, drowned out 
by the rest of their noise, but now a full third of them were chanting 
in unison. "Jump it! - Jump it! - Jump it!"
    
    Abigail had ignored it with the rest of their racket. What good 
would it do her? But now, with such a meagre weapon, it would at least 
put some more distance between her and the vicious, snapping animal as 
it backed her towards the side of the pen. And, she realised, this 
broken weapon was far more use to her than any proper spear. As soon as 
the pigrat looked like it would back up a step to make another swipe at 
her she took a step back herself, and leapt. Nothing nearly so 
acrobatic this time, she had no pole to push from, but she cleared the 
pigrat's claws easily and landed at a good speed, dancing further away 
as she turned. 
    
    The pigrat was doing the same, but as it began to run she had more 
than enough time to ready her attack. The spearhead, she had realised 
in a flash of the most obvious inspiration, would make a far better 
wall dart than the burrow nut ever could have. The pigrat was a moving 
target, but running straight at her it might as well have been lying 
there sound asleep for all the difference it would make. She drew back, 
and hurled the half-spear with every bit of strength she had left. With 
her practise at nailing a bulls eye from fifty feet, the fat pink beast 
at twenty was no challenge.
    
    The animal tried to turn away, but it could only pull its head aside 
in time, leaving the spearhead to jam itself into the pigrat's neck, 
just in front of its shoulder. From that angle it simply pierced down 
into its body from the front. Abigail had no idea how much damage that 
had caused, but it seemed to be enough. The pigrat screamed with its 
grating squeal, and tried to back away from the weapon embedded in its 
shoulder, but it just dragged the metal with it. The first jagged notch 
had been buried in its flesh, so it would not be able to remove the 
thing unless someone pinned the pigrat down and tore it out, and who 
knew what more damage that would do? 
    
    The pigrat seemed to be doing enough just trying to wrest it out 
with its claws, but eventually it gave up, content to back away into a 
corner of the pen and whimper as it bled out onto the sand. 
    
    Abigail stood panting as the crowd cheered around her, and 
eventually she remembered to stand up straight, and she raised her 
hands in victory. The crowd just got louder at that. She had made a 
meal of the fight, but it had entertained them more than most.
    
    "It's true folks!" The announcer called out. "Miss Iseley, might not 
be the best rat killer, but she's the real thing! Are you going to 
finish the bitch-pig off Abby?!"
    
    Abigail looked over to the others at the corner of the pen. Rathley 
and Sharn were yelling a resounding "Yes!", while Kyle just shrugged. 
And Chopper was finally giving her that lop sided grin again, and just 
waved it off, as if to say, "Just forget about it."
    
    Abigail ignored the pigrat, which suddenly looked like a very 
pitiful waste of blubber, and walked to the gate, trying to hide her 
limp. She caught the announcer's attention. "The ghoul there, 
Christian." She pointed to the zombie-man, and flashed him a victory 
sign. "Let him take it. If they're that fat, I guess you can get a 
decent amount of meat off them. Make sure he gets it, dead or alive, 
his choice."
    
    The announcer looked to the ghoul, then to her again. "Eh, 
whatever." He took her hand and raised it. "Abby Iseley, guys, gals and 
ghouls!"
    
    Abigail accepted the adulation eagerly. She had earned it with her 
blood, quite literally. She was also liking the tired rush after the 
fight, and those moments when the adrenaline had made the fight into a 
game. True, she had a badly cut leg, and it was starting to throb very 
painfully while it slowly coloured her jumpsuit leg purple, but the 
fear and the pain had been part of the rush. She didn't want to do it 
again in a hurry, but now that it was done she allowed herself to enjoy 
it. After the pigrat had taught her such a painful lesson she was happy 
to consider getting rid of such nasty creatures as a benefit, sport or 
not.  
    
    Once Abigail was let free she limped back to her companions, happy 
to ignore the noisy killing of the pigrat behind her. She wasn't quite 
ready to do that kind of thing just yet, but if Christian wanted it 
dead right then and there then that was up to him. She hoped the ghoul 
would either be able to get some good meals out of it, or otherwise 
sell it if pigrat wasn't worth eating. He had certainly thanked her 
effusively enough, so much so that she was worried that his bad eye 
might have ended up leaving its socket!
    
    When she did get to see the others again she was in for a surprise, 
as they were not waiting for her at all. Instead Chopper was once again 
facing off with the town's mayor, and all four of them were having a 
discussion that Rathley, Kyle and Sharn were obviously enjoying quite a 
lot. Abigail looked behind them to see that Erin was once again in 
attendance, and staring at Chopper with a wavering ort of reproach, but 
this time she herself did not seem to be the topic of conversation. She 
was there because her father was. 
    
    "Regardless," the Mayor said once Abigail was close enough to hear, 
"I will put it to her personally, unless you are her *owner*."
    
    Chopper cocked that eyebrow at the stress he placed on the word. 
"She's not a slave, but then again you might say we are her chaperones 
for the time being. Like dear Erin, she does need some coddling."
    
    The mayor obviously didn't like his daughter's name being brought 
into the discussion. "Then I pity her if you really are going to treat 
that wound of hers, Butcher. Remember," he said seriously, "I'm not 
making this offer because I *want* to. I would rather you and that 
bastard," he nodded towards Rathley, "found some small cave in the 
desert to dry out in, so don't expect me to sweeten it any more."
    
    He turned to Abigail. "If she wants to fix you up, fine, but I'm 
holding a meeting at the police building tonight, and I suggest you 
come along. If you're the kind of person people are making out, and 
after your assistance before, you might want to hear what we have to 
offer."
    
    With that he turned and left, his daughter following behind him a 
moment later. Abigail could have sworn that she paused only to see if 
Chopper would look her way again. Rather sadly, she didn't.
    
    "What was that?" Abigail asked, watching as the annoyed man and his 
pretty, well dressed daughter walked away. 
    
    "Blood money," Chopper replied. "Not your kind of thing I'd guess."
    
    Kyle had a different take on it. "It's a good deal, Chopper. 
Especially for you two." He looked both at her and Rathley.
    
    "Hell yeah," Rathley agreed. "I'm there already. You saps can sit 
back here if you like, but that sounds good to me."
    
    Chopper just shrugged, changing the subject. "Feel free. Abby, come 
on, I'll get that leg sewn up."
    
    Sharn was more open in her appreciation for her efforts. "That was 
such a great fight, Abby-girl! Screw the spears, we've got to find that 
shop with those cheap knives again!"
    
    Abigail remembered the ones. They were just bare metal, and the 
wooden handles had been burnt off, leaving nothing but a rectangle of 
metal at the base of each.
    
    Sharn grinned at the idea, "I bet they'd be great for throwing!"
    
***

To be continued...

***

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Many thanks to Richard King for his proofreading assistance.

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