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Calm Before the Storm

Kayito-san

Kayito-san

Super-Earth
Joined
Jan 21, 2009
A young man thumbed the safety on his rifle and grasped the foregrip. He curled slowly around the wall, his trigger finger twitching in anticipation. His eyes were busy, flicking from the reticule and stopping on every door all the way down the narrow hallway. This had been a military outpost at one point, but it had been bombed into oblivion. There was almost nothing left of it above ground. Below ground, the base had been stormed by foot soldiers, the walls perforated by bullet holes. He had arrived via the south side and sneaked into the bowels of the airbase via a crumbled wall, probably the same that had been used as the blitz's entry point. He was desperately low on ammunition and bandages. He crept slowly, flicking his flashlight and barrel into every room. It was a determined search. He knew there was ammo somewhere, and damned be all if he didn't find it.

Hours later, he surfaced, drenched in sweat, on the other end of the airbase. Nothing. The biggest waste of time he'd put up with to date, not a shard of ammo, not a vapor of reward. His efforts had been for naught. His name was Allan "Illie" Moss, ex-employee of one of the biggest drug distributors on the continent. He had trained and fought in a multitude of skirmishes. Well armed and well paid, life had been good. But everything had ended when the bombings began. War had taken its toll on the land and on its people. It had become a struggle only to survive. Moss pulled out a joint. It was dry and thin, ingredients were very hard to come by nowadays. He put the sliver of paper to his lips and... dropped it. He looked straight ahead. A crumbled wall, isolated. A red line painted on the ground, indications of an execution wall. But his eyes were trained on something else. Was that–? He stood and started towards the debris, gaining pace until he was outright sprinting. He fell to his knees the moment he arrived, digging away at the rubble.

He looked at her face. She looked young, no way was she military. No open wounds but she was bruised fairly badly. He pressed a finger to her neck and stared in disbelief. There was a pulse. He set her down and stood up quickly. This was... this was something else. A survivor. It had been days since he had last seen any trace of life. Moss scanned the horizon. The sun was hot, but there was a breeze from the sea to the east. A few clouds on the horizon. He knelt again, and pulled the girl's arm over his neck, then lifted her onto his back. If he was to have any chance of making up for all his wrongdoings, this would be it.

Moss set the girl down gently on the floor of the room. He had brought her back down into the base. She would be safe here until he returned. Medical supplies and fresh water were now a priority. Throwing the strap of his rifle over his head, Moss flicked on the flashlight. There was one more section of the base that he hadn't tried yet, but he was doubtful of its potential. It wasn't long before he returned. Fortune had been kind to him. He'd found a busted up medkit in what he assumed had once been the cafeteria kitchen. Moss made his way back to the room, and scanned it with his flashlight...
 
(Sorry it's a little short, next post will be better.)

The woman's body didn't stir as she was lifted and carried down to the lower level of the base and layed back down. Her clothes were riddled with eight holes, though her skin showed no signs of gun shot wounds. There were, however, curious scars corresponding with the holes. The bruises from the wall falling on top of her all but fading by the time he returned.

Her eyes snapped open as the flashlight went over her body, jumping back behind a counter, illiciting a sharp gasp of pain from her. She clutched at her stomach, shivering slightly, her mouth and throat were dry. Her mind tried to focus... but everything was a blur. "W-who are you." She attempted to sound firm, but her voice came out as a rasping cough. Who... am I for that matter... She thought silently ot herself.

She took a quick stock of herself and her surroundings, none of which was pleasant. She as dressed in a plain white shirt and orange baggy pants, the shirt was perforated with holes. The room around her was completely bare other than the single counter. She couldn't think of anything else. And then there was the person with the flash light to deal with...
 
Moss put his hands in the air, "Whoa, whoa. It's fine, I found you covered in rubble and brought you down here so I could patch you up." He opened the medkit and tossed the bandages over the counter. "See? I'm not going to hurt you." He backed away slowly and looked into the medkit. Rubbing alcohol, medical tape, sterile wipes, two syringes, a tiny vial of adrenaline and a canister of burn ointment. Moss looked back towards the low counter, "Will you let me patch you up, or would you rather do it yourself?" He put the gun on the floor, the flashlight projecting a shadow onto the wall behind the counter. "If you'd like," he explained, "My name is Moss."
 
She twitched slightly at the sound of his voice. Rubble? That would explain the now faint bruise marks and the pain shooting through her body. She watched the the bandages fly over the counter next to her. She lifted her shirt for a moment and looked at her body, there didn't seem to be any injuries now, just scars...

There were two holes in the shirt that revelaed part of her breasts. She took the shirt off completely, setting it down to the side as she wrapped the bandage around her chest, putting the shirt back on before hesitantly standing back up. She reached into her pockets to see if anything was there, finding only a nametag reading Honard and strange pins.

She stood up completely, looking over at him, her eyes immediately going to his gun. "Not sure if it is my name, but there's a tag in my pocket..." She said, tossing it to him. She stretched out, wincing slightly again. She licked the inside of her mouth and her lips, trying to get moisture. "Right now... I just need some water and maybe some pain killers if it's there..." She murmurred as she grabbed her elbows, her arms held against her stomach.
 
Moss shook his head. "As far as water goes, here's my flask. But I'm afraid you'll have to deal with the pain until it subsides naturally. Seeing as you can stand, I'm going to assume you're okay for now." He tossed the stout brown container to her feet, and picked up his gun, gazing momentarily at the name tag. "Take what you like, but that's all there is. I've been looking for a source of water for a few days, so please be conservative about what you drink. Now let's go. I have the suspicion we might have visitors if we stay too long."

As if on cue, Moss felt a low rumble. It subsided slowly, until a sudden explosion rocked him off of his feet. "Fuck, they're bombing again. Follow me, and don't fall behind. As of right now, you need " Debris began falling from the ceiling, dust and small bits of concrete bouncing as it hit the ground. He quickened his pace, retracing his steps back towards where he had found her. A bomb struck nearby, and he tripped up, his foot slipping in an awkward position. He struggled quickly back onto his feet, using his gun as a crutch. There was no time to worry about injury right now. He hoped she was still following him, and he took to the stairs nearby. Emerging into the sunlight, Moss was greeted with half a dozen pillars of black smoke. Flames raged at their feet, the closest not even fifty meters away. Moss shook his head. They needed to be gone twenty minutes ago. His ankle swollen, he turned back to the door. "Honard," he called, "We're in some trouble. I need you up here, pronto!"
 
'Honard' caught the flask with one hand, her hands moving on reflex. She paused for a moment, then took a a thirsty gulp. She sighed thankfully, closing the it and tossing it back to him. "Yeah... i'll be fine, I don't seem to be seriously injured." She said, keeping her distance from him still.

Her eyes widened at the rumbling sensation and the sound of explosions overhead, side stepping a falling chunk of rock. She was running torwards the door before he even said anything, though she followed behind him since he seemed to know where he was going. Sure enough, they soon found the stairs but before they could get up, a bomb went off directly overhead and the man tripped. Shi cursed in a different language and ran forward, He was suprisingly still fast given that it seemed like he twisted his ankle, if not both of them,

She was already behind him when he turned around, placing her arm underneath his, ignoring the flames and bombs around them. "Let's get the hell out of here. I have no desire to be buried again!" She shouted, walking out to the most direct route that would get them away from the base without getting roasted.
 
Moss turned when he felt her arm, "You were quick." he observed, and nodded at her suggestion. He took a glance towards the sky. It was only a couple of hours from sunset, and the bombers had begun to turn– it looked as though they were going to do a second bombing run before nightfall. No time to lose. Moss turned and jogged over to 'Honard'. "I came from the South of this base. There's very little in terms of navigable paths there, so I suggest we move Northeast, towards the peninsula. I heard there were still a few surviving trading posts positioned along the coast. Are you familiar with the territory?" There was a familiar rumble. The bombers were making headway. "There's a bridge over the river to the east. We would be safer there, and we could follow the river to the coast." Moss jumped down a small ledge, struggled to his feet and then began walking towards a nearby road. He peered in both directions, then headed down the road, eastward, gradually quickening his pace.
 
"Yeah, well being bombed again isn't really the first thing on my list." She scoffed as she helped him walk. She shook her head at his question. "I don't even remember my name, of course I don't remember." She said, trying to pick up the pace.

She nodded with him as he explained what was around the area, having no idea heself, but figuring it beat the hell out of where they were right now. "Alright, we'll go to the trading posts then. "Do you have anything long and solid in your pack? We can try and make something to help you walk a lot better than using me as your crutch." She said as they made their way down the ledge. "About how far from here is it?" She asked, her head turninbg up to watch for the bombers again.
 
He could understand if she'd woken up a bit confused given what had befallen her, but this was worrisome. "You mean, nothing's coming back to you?" This was something they would have to sort out. Why had she been at a military base? She certainly wasn't dressed in military attire. He dismissed his concerns for now. They needed to find shelter first and foremost. "All I have right now is my gun and its extensions, a couple of tins of ammunition, the water canteen and the medkit. It's fine, really. I've lived through worse. Let's just get out of the area right now, and I can affix a temporary brace. I'm sorry, I feel as though I'm imposing." he said, gesturing to how she was supporting his weight. He unslung his gun from his shoulder, and reached into his bag. Retrieving a small, capped cylinder, he fitted it over the muzzle of the gun, and put it to the ground. It would have to suffice as a temporary cane, God forbid they come under fire.

"It'll be… I'd say just over three kilometers to the bridge, and about five more to the coast. You hold onto the water in case you get thirsty," he said, handing it to her, "I don't want you to get dehydrated." He stood, holding the gun by the shoulder brace. Moss walked forward a bit, getting a handle on how to walk with a 14-pound cane. "If you're ready, we should really get going."
 
"No... I only remember one thing. There was darkness, then a lot of noises and paiin... then there was a rumbling and more pain... then some gy with a flash light shined my eyes." She said with a sigh as she tried to remember something... anything else, only being rewarded with a headache.

She shook her head. "No, we may need the gun, it wont do any good if it's busted and filled with dirt." She said, still helping him walk. She was about to ask about time-wise how long that was, but realized it would be difficult to tell with their slower pace, not to mention they might need to stop to rest for awhile. She shook her head again at the canteen. "I'm fine now, I just needed to get my mouth wet." She murmurred. Sure, she was a little thirsty, but they needed to conserve it until they needed it.

She made sure she had a good grip under his arm as they started walking again. Now that she had been able to calm down, she took stock of herself again. The holes in her shirt and the now non-existant bruises bothered her a great deal. She blinked as she also noticed that just like she had not been wearing a bra, she had no panties either.
 
Moss speculated for a moment about what she told him before he looked at the rifle. He had capped the end, but it really wasn't meant to take weight like that. He concurred with her, and shouldered the weapon. Moss put leaned on her a bit more, and began walking at a good pace. They had made enough headway that the bombers were no longer a direct threat. However, they had a ways to go still.

Just under an hour later, they reached the bridge. Sweating from the hot sun, Moss wiped his brow with his shirt. He turned to 'Honard' and smiled. "We're finally," he panted, "Here. This is the bridge." It was crumbling, but offered some shelter. It didn't look like there had been any people through this area. Moss ventured under the bridge, finally some shade. It was significantly cooler beneath the collapsed bridge. He slid down a wall into a sitting position and breathed out deeply. He dropped his weapon and packsack on the ground. For a minute or two, he just sat there with his eyes closed. Afterwards, he slowly got to his feet. He stretched a bit, then began walking towards one side of the bridge. He paused. "I think we should stay here for the night. The sun is setting. I'll… I'll be right back. I'm going to go take a leak, and I suggest you do the same, as we'll be leaving first thing come sunlight tomorrow morning, and we won't be making any stops on the way. This next leg of the trip is going to be a bit more difficult. I'll brief you when I return." He looked at her for a moment, his demeanour brightening just a bit, then headed around the corner to do his business.
 
She nodded wordlessly as he leaned on her, glad for the increased pace and to be moving. Her legs were already starting to feel sore even from just supporting his weight after not moving for who knows how long, but she kept silent. She saw the bridge off in the distance, sighing thankfully as it would seem as if they were going to stop for a bit.

She twitched, looking up at the collapsing bridge. She shrugged after a oment and leaned back against the wall with just enough shade for her. She blinked at his suggestion and it occured to her that she hadn't gone to the bathroom either, or if she did, there was no smell or stains. She shrugged and noded walking off to the other side of the bridge.

She waited until she heard the noise before she leaned back against the wall and removed her pants. She twitched as she saw that she had a penis and that she hadn't really noticed it until now. She reached down to touch it, biting back a gasp, it wasn't an illusion, or she was drugged. She let her hand wander for a bit, feeling her body tense up slightly.

Just under her now semi-flaccid length, was a rather odd shaped bump She rubbed it lightly, shuddering as she felt something shift inside of her and at the strange texture of it. She reached lower feeling her femme sex as well.

She shivered as she leaned against the wall as the sensations and questions flooded her mind. She had to stop though, not sure if he was going to come over at not, she couldn't answer any questions she wasn't sure about either. She quickly went to the restroom, slightly suprised she went from her shaft, but thankfully didn't get any on her.

She turned back around the corner after a few minutes, having pulled her pants back up, and having calmed' down'. She bit her lip as she sat down in her previous spot, deep in thought about exactly what was going on and who... what she was.
 
Moss took his time, draining every last drop and making damn sure he wouldn't have to stop again tomorrow. He shook it gently and paused, looking down at his unit and making sure everything was in working order. He twisted it over and looked it up and down for a moment. Nothing looked funny our out of place. He returned it to his pants, but paused. It had been such a long time since he last... He closed his eyes and dismissed the thought. He was a man, with a libido just like any other, but now was certainly not the time to be concerning himself with such things.

He drew up his fly and turned around, looking towards the horizon. The sun was just beginning to set, bright orange light leaking upwards from the skyline. Moss smiled and considered the sunset; it was remarkable how the sky could portray such beauty, even during times of such chaos and destruction. It reminded him of 'Honard', in a way...

That girl... she had something to do with all of this. He had a feeling that there was a reason for such a thorough evacuation of the military base. No documents, no papers at all. Where did she come from? How old was she? Why was she at a military base? Her image came into his mind. She was a bit shorter than him, very easy on the eyes. Come to think of it, he hadn't really had a good look at her at all. It shouldn't matter, he should be more concerned with their survival... but... her image returned, he pictured her slowly lifting her shirt–– her shirt. Bullet holes. Bullet holes? Moss put his hand to his forehead. There had been bullet holes in her shirt and it hadn't even crossed his mind as important. She had only a few bruises when he'd found her. Which means she had been wearing Kevlar at some point, and it had been removed, but that didn't make any sense.

Moss considered a possible scenario: Honard, for the sake of the argument, was a civilian on a military base. As the case with any civilian in such a scenario, she must have been given a kevlar vest to wear around the base. Evidently, something had happened, and she'd been shot numerous times, but the kevlar had done its job. Still, he hadn't found her with any armour. Maybe raiders had taken the armour. But raiders certainly wouldn't have put her shirt back on… much less left her unscathed. She had probably taken off the kevlar following the shooting. And maybe she had only brought one shirt or something. That must have been it.

Shame about the kevlar, though, it would have been to her advantage to keep it on. Without it, she would be significantly more susceptible to injury. Moss cursed under his breath. The next stretch of territory would be passing through the 'Bandit Ring', a stretch of territory that surrounded the safe zone. A cute girl like her was considered 'highly valuable propriety' to raiders. She was really quite shapely, after all. Cute face, great ass… exceptional tits. Probably really ti–– Moss squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the idea out of his mind. He couldn't be thinking of her like this. Moss shook his head vigorously and rubbed his neck. He turned and headed back beneath the bridge.
 
She was deep in thought still when he turned, her eyes closed. Her hands rubbed at her arms were the bruises had been and at her chest where the holes in her shirt were, seeming not to notice him since he hadn't spoken yet.

The only traces left of possible injuries were small scars where the holes were, but that could just be coincidence. The rest of her body, she noticed as her hands roamed about, was covered in a multitude of scars of various sizes and shapes.

Again, focused on herself, she removes her shirt, setting it off to the side as she opens her eyes and looks down at the scars. She had wound the bandages tightly around her chest, making her breasts more compact and 'perky'. She winced slightly, There seemed to be a dozen on her upper body and another dozen between each arm. Other than that, her skin seemed to be very smooth, despite the dirt.

She sighed softly and stood back up, turning to her right as she put her shirt back on, still not having noticed the silent Moss. She would ask him for another shirt when he got back and she would take a look at his leg, maybe even look around for something to splint it.
 
Moss slowed his pace as Honard pulled off her shirt, revealing how she'd wrapped up her breasts. He swallowed his tongue and stood stunned. She didn't realize he was there. What was she doing? Should he give her some privacy? Moss' eyes snapped to her breasts, which, covered by the bandage, certainly weren't concealed. They were so… shapely and proportionate and… good. He could feel them invading his thoughts. His mind wandered for a good few seconds before he caught it. Moss opened his mouth as if to say something, but didn't. He bit his tongue. He wanted to do things to those breasts, lots of things. Unspeakable, delectable things. Surely his dreams tonight would be… tumultuous. Finally, he regained control and cleared his throat to say something. "Ho… Honard, I thought it might be a good idea of we took shifts tonight. One of us awake while the other sleeps, and then vice versa. That way we can be prepared should we encounter any trouble." Her breasts once again filled his mind, although he kept his eyes sharp.

The sun had gone below the horizon and darkness was quickly setting in. Moss put his back to the wall and slid down. He pulled his rifle to him and opened his bag. He shuffled around and pulled out his silencer, and screwed it onto the barrel until it clicked twice. He collapsed the shoulder-brace and removed it from the rifle, then pulled the foregrip backwards a bit. It was a very reliable piece of equipment, and very adaptable. Contented with the setup, Moss tossed everything back in the sack and put his back against the wall. He bent his knees a bit and put the gun down on the ground beside him, and finally put his head back on the wall. He let out a sigh as the cool night air slowly churned beneath the bridge. In contrast with the heat of daytime, the breeze was very nice. "Do you mind taking the first shift? I'll take over as soon as you get tired, just give me a tap…"
 
She twitched and her eyes snapped over as he spoke, her cheeks flushed slightly as she wondered how long he had been there. "...Y-yeah, that sounds fine." She said, straightening up, looking around the area. "S-sure... three hours?" She asked, looking over at him. She had been passed out for at least a few days, she wasn't feeling particulary tired at the moment.

She looked back and forth, pacing around as the sun got lower and lower, until it dissapeared all together. After that, she moved back to her spot, still watching. Her situation was still nagging at the back of her mind. She was tempted to... explore, but decided against that, it could wait until later.

By the time she started getting tired, it had been several hours and she carefully walked over to him, tapping his shoulder. "Hey... Moss... your turn." She murmurred walking back over and sitting down with her back against the wall as she closed her eyes. "Just give me two hours... I should be fine." She said, wanting to get moving as soon as possible.
 
Shots fired overhead. Moss ducked below the traffic barrier and reloaded. Several bullets collided with the barrier, a few flying past above it. He counted the shots. "Thirty-one, thirty-two." he mumbled. He peeked around the side of the barrier for a quick second. Two more shots collided with the barrier. "Thirty-four? Mother fucker." He listened carefully. Two clicks. Moss stood up abruptly and fired four three-shot bursts. Three marks fell to the ground. Moss fell back behind the barrier. Area clear. He waited for a moment, then jumped over and ran into the run-down hotel. His heart was racing. He bolted up the stairs and collided with the third floor entrance. He burst through, pumping a few shots into the two guards there. First door on the left. He kicked in the door and his finger tensed on the trigger. Slowly, his aim dropped. The room was completely bare, save for a plush red couch. There were no windows or lights, but the room was well lit. He walked in slowly, and heard the door close. He spun around, bringing his arms up– his gun was gone, but so was the door. Honard was standing where the door had been. Suddenly, the couch was directly behind him. He sat down, his body limp and exhausted. Honard sat down beside him and he turned as if to say something. His shirt was gone, as was hers, and Honard was all of a sudden kissing his chest. Moss flushed pink. "I um…" But she put a finger to his lips. Moss felt someone tap his shoulder, and Honard looked up at him with a mischievous smile. She sat upright and began to unwrap the bandages. "Hey… Moss... your turn." she said, but then she began to fade. Moss' eyes blinked open. "I'd love to… but where are you going?" he began, before realizing what was happening.

He blushed again, looking up at Honard, his knees still close to his chest, thankfully. "R-right, sorry." he muttered, grabbing his rifle. His face remained beet red as he stood up facing away from her. "I'm going to go around the corner to see if there's anybody approaching the bridge." he absolved. He walked away with a very slight hunch, fiddling with his rifle. "I'll come wake you up in three hours. I mean two hours." he assured her, passing swiftly around the corner.

He exhaled and pushed the foregrip of the rifle forward a bit, adjusting it to suit longer distances. He glanced meekly down at his pants, boner still subsiding. Should she have seen it, he would never have been able to escape that. He'd never hear the end of it and she'd probably just use it as leverage. Particulars of his dream still lingered in his mind. He cursed silently, and put his hand on the wall. He hung his head, and ran his other hand through his hair. "God dammit." he mumbled, "This kind of shit is going to make living with this girl really fucking difficult. I mean I just found her yesterday." he groaned under his breath. He stood up and walked up the hill to street-level. He scanned the horizon first by eye, then passed over it again using his scope. There was hardly any light, and it was difficult to see. He had long-since depleted his infrared and heartbeat sensors. They both ran on the same battery, so they had gone simultaneously. His gun was as good as analog. Moss continued walking, looking over the curve of the destroyed bridge, paused, and began walking down the bridge itself, as it to cross it. He reached the edge, and looked down at the shallow river below. At one point, the river had been several meters deep, but had since the outbreak of the war been reduced to just a slow trickle. He sat down on the ledge and sighed. Fighting had really taken a toll on him. He'd killed hundreds of men by this point. Maybe, had he not been so proficient at killing others, those hundred-some men would be fighting for their country instead of for their gang boss. Maybe if he had been killed long ago, he wouldn't have had to look down at their bodies with the knowledge that it had been him. But now, concluded Moss, there was some good he could accomplish. Honard was asleep below him, and she was a kind person. She was good. Protecting her could never undo all that he had done, but he would finally have an honourable purpose.

Moss stood and looked up at the sky. There were many clouds overhead, but there was a tiny patch through which he could see the stars. He stared at the heavens, and they stared right back. It was enough for him. He turned and walked slowly back down the bridge towards a large chunk of concrete. He sat down on the concrete, propping his gun against his shoulder, and continued to scan the horizon.

His watch beeped quietly. Moss' eyes were droopy but he was awake. The sun was just beginning to shed light from the East. He stood up, and made his way back below the bridge. He smiled a bit, and trod over to Honard, kneeling beside her. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but stopped short. He stared momentarily at her pants. He rubbed his eyes and moved his head, looking from a different angle. His eyes were really playing tricks on him. He blinked several times in quick succession, and gently shook her shoulder. "Honard," he said, "It's time to get up, c'mon." He smiled, and then pinched her nose. "Come on, get up."
 
She blinked and sat up, looking around, only seeing absolute darkness. How long had she been asleep and why couldn't she see? She reached up to tug at what was covering her eyes, but her arms were heavy as lead. She heard a shout, then felt several sharp impacts against her chest as the surface beanth her trembled, followed by several loud noises.

Her body fell back and seemed to fall for hours until a bright light shone in her face. She got up again, seeing Moss she moved torwards him, but stopped when he raised his gun at her. "Freak..." He murmurred before the trigger pulled and a pair of disembodied fingers flew forward, pinching her nose.

She gasped loudly and sprung up, nearly hitting him. She shuddered, closing her eyes as she looked away. She got up after a few moments and nodded. "Yeah... let's get going." She said with a shake of her head as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.
 
It was apparent to Moss that something was bothering her. He didn't dare ask, of course, but he looked at her for a moment. He stood, his ankle was feeling much better. "We'll head directly North from here, along the river. The safe zone is five miles from here, but I fear if we continue directly along the river we'll face trouble. I think we should aim for three, and then head directly East for a kilometre or so, depending on how the odds look when we get to the three-k mark. The 'Bandit Ring' covers a large chunk of territory South of the peninsula, and the last thing we want to run into is a large band of raiders. I'll keep my eyes peeled. What we might have to do is wait until nightfall to cross raider territory. I don't know where their outposts are. We… may have to spend some time in hiding before we can cross the territory." It was likely that this would be the case. Sweat beaded from his forehead. It was going to be a hot day, too, which would cut their outdoor time in half, at least. 1 PM and onward tended to be the hottest time of day, until about 7 when the shadows got longer. Moss' mind wandered a bit. Maybe if they found a secluded place...

Moss began walking, his gun shouldered. He made sure that he could see the edge of the river in the periphery of his vision, but kept his eyes fixed straight. "Ouf…" he grumbled, wiping his brow again. He paused, and took off his shirt, wrapping the arms around his waist. He turned to Honard, "Say… this morning. You looked like you'd come out of a pretty um… worrisome dream. Anything in there about what happened to you?"
 
She looked over at him after a few moments, seeing that he didn't limp anymore. "... your leg is feeling better then?" She asked, rubbing her forehead. It was intensely hot despite it being so early in the morning, it would only get worse. She sighed fanning her shirt slightly as they started walking now. "Are the raiders really so dangerous? Or just great in number?" She asked, though that one word from her dream kept echoing in her head.

She blinked at his question and looked voer at him again, suprised to see his shirt off. Causing her to stare for a moment before her head turned straight again. "Just the same thing... I couldn't see, pain and the loud noise." She said, rubbing the bridge of her nose again when her stomach grumbled and she realized she hadn't eaten in quite some time. "I don't suppose... you have anything to eat either, do you?" She asked, sighing again as she felt that the bandages were damp now with sweat.
 
He stopped momentarily and shook out his leg. "It's good enough to walk on. It's a bit sore, but I think getting some rest did a lot of good. The raiders… It's not that they're especially dangerous. They're not usually very well trained, but we'd be at a severe disadvantage should we encounter any. Raiders tend to stay in small packs and move slowly, usually setting up camp in one area and scouting out a plot of land for a short while before moving on. They get all of their equipment from people they kill, and because they hunt in groups, they can switch out periodically. Keep your eyes peeled for brightly coloured paint. They spray paint areas where they've made a kill so they can return to an area to loot the corpses." Moss shook his head, his eyes downturned, and continued, "I've only encountered raiders once before, they aren't very bright people and they're propelled by greed. It took me more than a day to kill off the group I ran into, but I couldn't even use any of the equipment they had plundered. One of them sabotaged the camp and got away. Mother fuckers have no regard for human life and they'll do their utmost to kill you." Moss shuddered. He didn't want to disclose anything else.

He listened carefully to her anecdote but scoffed at her mention of food. "I have an energy bar in my bag," he offered, "But that's all there is." He lifted the bag, and opened the pouch, retrieving the deformed morsel. He handed it to her, his eyes momentarily fixated on her torso before turning forward. He considered what she told him. It was unusual for a dream to contain no visuals… unless it was based on an actual event, a memory.

Blindness, pain, a loud noise. His first guess was that something violent had occurred… at night, maybe? Maybe she'd been blindfolded. Moss slowed for a second, and turned to her. He caught a glimpse of her back. Her shirt had holes there, too. She'd been shot from the front as well as from behind? Brutal. But something about the pattern of the holes gave him deja vu. He'd seen it somewhere, that distinct pattern of holes. No, that wasn't right.

Moss looked ahead again. They'd been walking for a good hour under the hot sun, the heat was probably getting to him. If his estimation was correct, they were approaching the 2 kilometre mark. Given the rubble they had been walking over, it had taken them a bit longer to cover the distance, but they were still making very timely headway. Another 45 minutes or so and they'd be close to the Billings district, a notorious raider hotspot. Just ahead, to their right were the remains to a parkade. Moss checked his watch and put his hand on Honard's shoulder. "We should take a rest here for a few minutes, regain our bearings."
 
She nodded slightly, glad that he was able to walk now and that she wouldn't have to support him. She listened to him intently as he talked about the raiders silently. "Do you have another weapon?" She asked, fanning herself again. She wasn't sure if she could aim well, but if nothing else she could be a distraction.

She arched an eyebrow as he mentioned that there was only one bar left. "You risked your life to help me and your offering your already limited supplies despite the fact that you don't know... I don't even know who the hell I am. What I want to know, is why?" She asked, looking at him directly for the first time in awhile as they kept walking. She took half of the bar, eating it as she passed the other half to Moss.

'Honard' sat down on a stable rock as he mentioned rest, wiping the sweat from her forehead, she hated this heat.
 
Moss thought for a moment. He reached behind his back and drew an old chrome p229. It was fairly beaten up, and the the muzzle had darkened from thorough use and a lack of maintenance. "I have this, but I don't use it much anymore. It made a difference back before I got my rifle, but it's seen a lot of use and I've never time to maintain it. Hang on a sec, I think I still have another clip and the silencer. It might be in your best interest to give you both right now." He paused and reached into his bag. As he shuffled through its contents, he spoke, "When's the last time you remember eating? I'm more worried about you passing out from hunger than me. I've survived on less."

He paused, and looked up from his bag. "I found you buried beneath a couple pounds of rubble, bruised everywhere. Judging by your shirt, you've seen more than your share of monstrosities. I don't know anything about your past, but since I've met you I've had someone to talk to. It's made all the difference. Simply, I like having you around."

He turned his attention back to the bag, coming to the realization of how poorly he may have worded that. He sighed and hoped she didn't think him a fool. Shuffling around a bit, he drew a black metal tube and a rectangular clip. Handing them to her, he looked at the pistol. "Do you know how to use one of those?"
 
Honard nodded and took the pistol when he handed it to her, feeling the weight of it. "Simple point and click interface, neh?" She said, tapping the trigger lightly. It didn't seem like a good fit, but it would have to do for now, it was better than nothing at least.

She chuckled, finishing her half of the bar. "Just now..." She said with a shrug. She narrowed her eyes as he mentioned how he found her, a shiver running down her spine, confirming part of her worries, but only raising more questions, like how she had survived. She arched an eyebrow at the other comment, but didn't say anything about it, company and misery, or something of the sort.

She took the silencer and spare clip, attaching the silencer before putting the clip into her pocket. "I think i'll be fine, so long as it still works." She said, pocketing the weapon. Oddly enough, the pocket was nearly a perfect fit to keep it held even if she was running, while still being easily accesible. "Maybe we should run into some raiders, and... relieve them of their supplies." She grinned slightly.
 
Reluctantly, Moss retrieved the other half of the bar. He looked at it scrupulously. Dry, yellow-brown, somewhat unappetizing. He took a big bite out of it, chewed, and forced it down. He was pretty hungry. Hungry enough not to care about its texture. He polished off the rest of the bar quickly, and looked over at her. Not only did she seem totally unfazed about his comment, she seemed almost less enthusiastic. Evidently his feelings toward her were not mutual. He coughed, a small piece of the bar suddenly wedged in this throat. He coughed again and it cleared, and he turned away from her. At least now he knew. Making a move could only exacerbate a poor reputation.

It made sense to him, somehow, that she should have no feelings towards him. He killed people for a living both before, and after the onset of war. A slight smile spread across his lips upon a realization: nothing had changed. Moss stood up, his face stone cold and rigid with determination. It was just another mission. Get her to the safe zone.

"It'll have to do." he said, looking in their prospective direction of travel. "I don't think it would be in our best interests to take on a troupe of raiders head-to-head. If we did try to combat some, we would have to be diligent and indirect. We would need to do it at night, and be damned quiet about it. If you think you can follow my orders to the word, then we might have a shot at this, but as far as I'm concerned right now, you are not a combatant here."

Moss walked forward a few steps and looked onward in the direction they would be heading. It would be another hour or so, and the sun was only getting hotter. The sooner they started moving, the better off they would be. "Let's go." he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His feet crunched on the gravel below as he began to walk again.
 
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