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Calm Before the Storm

She smiled softly at him as he eats the bar, arching an eyebrow as he choked on the last bit of it. "You alright?" She asked , chuckling softly. She watched him intently as he turned around again, the intense look on his face unnerved her slightly. She nodded at his statement. "You know more about them than I do.. and i'm not sure if i'm a good shot or not either." She said as they continued walking.

"Tell me what to do, and i'll do it. I owe you that much, for saving my life. Who knows if I would have woken otherwise, or if someone else had found me..." She shuddered at the last thought, thoughts floodign her mind of what could happen. She shook her head, trying to clear the useless things from her mind, she needed to focus now, made only more difficult by the sweltering heat, her body already fairly drenched in sweat.

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"If you're about ready," said Allan, "It's time we carried on." He hauled his bag over his shoulder and peered into the distance, towards a jagged horizon of crumbling buildings. They shivered and coalesced in the dry heat, writhing like concrete worms. The heat had gotten worse. He anticipated that they might, might have to take shelter again at some point, and that the heat might impede their movement. He could feel the sweat draining down his neck and back, but they had no choice but to keep moving.

"Tell me what to do, and I'll do it…" Allan muffled a laugh. That was a dangerous offer on her part, she might not understand how lucky she had been, indeed. "Be careful what you wish for," he chuckled, "Although I'm taking you to a safezone, it's still a cramped encampment. Plenty of lesser crimes happen in there. The only advantages really are that there are food and water in good supply, and medical clinics. A cute girl like yourself could get into a heap of trouble with just a few such words."

Allan started walking. They would be lucky to reach another shelter in good time. Momentarily he considered waiting until the heatwave died down in the evening, but then they'd have to make serious headway before sunset– plus they'd be stuck there for several hours with nothing to do to pass the time. He supposed he could order her around for fun, give her some rigorous 'military training' but– no, that would be rude. Allan chuckled quite thoroughly at the notion.
 
Honard nodded, following behind him, if a little slower than before. SHe groaned as she felt the heat only intensify, tugging at the crook of her shirt, using it as a small, pitiful fan. "Is it... always like this... out here?" She asked after awhile passed in silence.

She blinked at his statement. "What is that supposed to mean?" SHe asked, she didn't have any wishes at this point. As she looked around at the barren waste land, did it really matter who she had been? SHe chuckled herself this time. "Oh? You think i'm cute hmm? SHould I be flattered?" SHe asked, arching an eye brow as they continued walking.

She looked over at him again as he suddenly laughed out of no-where, with seemingly no provocation. "Something funny?"
 
"Yes, it's usually quite hot about this time of day; yes, I did say you were cute and you can take that however you goddamn please; and yes, I was imagining how you might fare, if I actually made good on your offer and tried to train you. That is to say, stupefyingly poorly." Allan began chuckling again and turned to her momentarily, "What do you say, are you fighting material? Think you could hold a feather to a raider if I taught you what to do?"

His patience was drawn a bit thin and the heat wasn't kind, but now he was being intentionally snide. Why am I helping you? Is this a worthwhile investment or am I helping you 'out of the goodness of my heart'? he thought, stewing furiously. He wiped his brow and paused to clear his head. This was not a time to be confrontational, she hadn't done anything wrong.

Allan began walking again. "The heat's getting to me, I'm sorry. I'm having a rough time thinking about what I'm doing– er, where we're going, and how we're going to get there. In all honesty the prospects are not bright."
 
Her eyes widened as he snapped at her snidely, clearly upset. "Then... why? Your supplies were low. For all you knew, I was going to attack you... why?" She asked, staring at him intently. "If you believe me to be a burden, then leave me, or kill me if it pleases you. Was going to happen anyways, right?" She stated plainly.

"And don't give me that bull... clearly there was some other reason than just for someone to talk to." She said, sighing softly. "As for what can I do? You know as much as I do. I suppose I could be a decoy if anything else." She said, resuming walking now. "Perhaps that will be enough."
 
Allan sighed and closed his eyes briefly, but kept walking. "That's a big question, bigger than you might realize. A simple answer, you might say, is guilt. I've done some horrific things, Honard. But the truth is more complex than that. I don't feel particularly driven to get into the thick of it right now, and even if I did, there are still some things better left unsaid."

He ran forward and kicked a stone; it sailed through the air, crashing back to the ground several meters further. For many minutes he said nothing. He kicked that same stone ahead, slowly caught up to it, and kicked it again. They marched onward, the clouded grey buildings in the distance gradually becoming less distorted. The heat continued to pour down onto them, with a few unexpected passing clouds giving them well-deserved breaks.

"I do appreciate the company, Honard, I've been stuck out here, wandering aimlessly for a long time. Alone long enough, I finally found some company but my expectations and my understanding about people didn't add up to reality. I do enjoy your presence, I really do, but knowing that if I slip up just once, one or both of us could very well die. Before I found you, and even before the war, it was easy to plunge right into the thick of battle because all of my drive, all of my desire revolved around killing. It wasn't even a matter of risk: I had been trained all my life to forget my mortality and that's exactly what I did.

"But now… Now there's you. And I can't let you die, Honard. For once in my life, I can't forget mortality– because it isn't mine. You're a living, breathing, thinking person, and now I know somebody in those terms rather than as a 'target'. It's just too new to me, to think in those terms…" His voice trailed off. He kicked the rock again.

"I'm going to shut up for a while. I ought not to have said any of that and I hope you won't hold it against me. Honard, if you stand by your offer of following my orders, and are prepared to suffer through some very rigorous training, then I'll teach you what I know. We'll have to get you a better weapon than what I gave you, which means taking the offensive on a raider encampment. If we are successful, we may be able to secure water and supplies to last us to the safe zone. What'll it be?"
 
She blinked, but continued walking, part of her expecting him to actually kill her. She listened to him in silence, fanning herself again. She turned around for a moment, watching as he kicked the rock repeaditly, still clearly stressed.

She remained silent for several minutes after he finished, looking forward again. "Then teach me, or remind me as the case may be. If I catch on quick, then I can help. If I can't, then I can stay out of the way. Certainly two sets of eyes are better than one, right?" She said, stretching her arms. "I owe you for that meal after all." She said, turning to face him for a moment with a grin.

"How much ammo do you have for the pistol? If we can get in close enough, I can distract them while you take them down. I think I have something that will work..." She murmurred, cute or not, most men were distracted by breasts, right?
 
Allan stopped walking and stared at her. "You want me to train you? So be it. Watch carefully." he said, and looked around. They were still relatively far from the buildings in the distance. They were currently standing on what might be described as a concrete beach. Formerly a boardwalk of sorts, it was wide and mostly flat, besides a couple of craters from the bombings.

Allan bent low and picked up a chunk of concrete. He turned, and tossed it with a great deal of force, brought his rifle up, grasped the foregrip– aimed, and fired a single shot. The rock exploded, and Allan passed her the rifle. "Your turn," he said, "It's on single-shot semi-auto so you don't waste bullets. Be patient: fast moving targets like this one, it's best to anticipate its movement rather than struggle at following it– fire just a hair ahead on its trajectory. Stay calm, don't over-think. You'll have at least three-quarters of a second to hit it during peak trajectory before it begins to descend, that's plenty of time to register a good shot."

He was of course over-simplifying it. It was actually required some significant skill and arm strength, but he wanted to see how she fared nonetheless. He picked up a second chunk of concrete, turned, and hurled it in much the same way as the first.
 
She stopped when he did, looking over as he nodded. She watched as he picked up the rather large chunk of debry, flinching slightly as he shot the rifle. She nodded, holding the rifle just as carefully.

Honard nodded, taking a deep breath. "Alright... do it." She said, pressing the butt of the rifle against her shoulder. She took a second after was approaching it's peak, taking another breath before pulling the trigger. She grunted, but didn't pull back as the bullet sailed through the air, clipping the rock at the bottom, shattering a chunk of it. She held the rifle against her leg, rubbing her shoulder lightly. "A bit more... kick than I expected..." She murmurred, picking the rifle up again. "Again, or no?" She asked, looking up at him.
 
Allan whistled lightly. "I'm impressed. You picked that up pretty quickly. Could use some improvement, of course. Yeah, that rifle has quite a bit of kick. That's it for now. I don't want to waste any more ammo on this crap. Like I said, though, I am impressed that you picked up so quickly. I guess you're not a lost cause after all." he said, sticking out his tongue. "Alright, let's get moving. Although we're headed that way eventually," he said, pointing towards the buildings in the distance, "We'll have to stop and rest before then instead. We can take a day off of walking, assuming we find a building that is somewhat intact, and take some time to get you a bit more combat-capable." He took his gun back and started walking towards the collapsed buildings running parallel to the beachfront. They were about a half-kilometer from the buildings.

"Keep your eye out for spray-paint, blood, empty shells and fresh corpses. Most of these mean trouble." As soon as he said it, there was a crack, and a bullet whizzed by Allan's face. "Fuck me, Raiders! Get on the ground behind me, now." he said, and grabbed her arm. He pulled her behind him, and pulled up his rifle. He couldn't tell where the shot had come from. Was it a warning shot, or had they missed? He crouched, and scanned the rubble that lay just beyond. Not a trace of life. There was another crack, and Allan cursed loudly as the bullet imbedded itself into his thigh. He hadn't seen a flash, but he knew roughly where they were position based on how he'd been shot. He turned, and checked through his scope. His leg was bleeding quite thoroughly, his pants wicking the blood very heavily. There was another crack. This time the bullet struck the ground, carving a slice into the concrete to Allan's right. He glanced at the slice, and aligned his reticule respectively. Still no sign of– and there it was. The shooter was covered in a concrete-grey tarp, laying on the third floor of a partially collapsed parked. Allan held his breath to steady his shot. There was another crack. He heard the bullet whizz by his left ear, flinching slightly. He steadied his shot again. "Got you now, bitch." he mouthed. The column behind the shooter became stained in crimson, and Allan's weapon dropped.

He exhaled, panting hard, and fell onto his side, grasping his thigh. "F– FUUUCK." he finally exclaimed. He struggled to his feet, balancing on one foot. "I was careless." he said, "I should have waited until we we weren't out in the open."
 
"Just guess... I have good timing..." She panted, handing him the rifle after a moment. "Yeah, let's go and..." She flinched as as she heard the gun shot, her eyes darting around. She was so focused on trying to see where the shooter was, she was caught off gaurd when he suddenly pulled her behind him, sending her sprawling to the ground with a loud thump.

She groaned and flinched at the second shot, looking up at him. She saw the blood and her eyes widened, it was her fault. She stood up just as the third cracked into the ground, splintering shards hitting her leg. She winced, but stood up the rest of the way. She sighed as it was finally over.

"Right... let's get you inside the other building... you still have the medic kit, right?" She asked as she leaned down a bit, placing his arm around her shoulder, supporting him as they started walking torwads the building, matching his pace.

She groaned as they finally got there, biting her lip. It was her fault... if he hadn't been making sure she knew how to shoot, the raider wouldn't have noticed him. "S-sorry about this..." She murmurred, leading him into a small room, laying him down gently. She pulled the medical kit out of his pack and set everything down. She was going to cut his pants, but decided against it, simply unbuttoning his pants, ignoring any sort of protest he mustered.

She pulled his pants off gently, trying to be as gentle as possible. She grabbed a cotton swab, pouring some of the disenfectant onto it, cleaning out the wound. "Just... try and stay still." She said, pulling out a pair of tweazers and pouring the rest of the disenfectant onto it, holding his leg still as she eased it into him, thankful it somehow didn't get in to deep, pulling it out gently.

With the bullet out, she grabbed the wrap, and started place it around the wound, suddenly her hand started to glow a pale, light blue. Her eyes widened in suprise and cried out in pain as a searing pain shot through her leg. "W-what's... happening..." Her hand gripped at his leg, the light only growing stronger as she let out a whimper. The pain continued to grow worse, blood starting to leak from the spot as well, but as it did, Allan's wound pulsed slightly, the skin closing in on itself slowly, but visibly, though her eyes were closed tightly.
 
Allan leered at her when she appeared under his arm. "Didn't I tell you to stay low? Jesus." he grumbled. He wasn't fond of being looked after. They walked onwards to the building adjacent to the parkade, and Allan slid down the wall. "Yeah the med kit… it's ah, in my bag," he panted, pulling the rucksack from his shoulders. His gun dropped lazily to his side. He leaned his head back momentarily, taking a breather, when suddenly he felt his pants slip off.

His eyes snapped open and he looked down at her in alarm and mild embarrassment. "Wh– He, hey!" he said, reaching down, but his bullet wound prevented him. "Augh, fuck." he muttered, his hand clutching his leg above the injury as she began to treat his wound. "Wherever did you learn to do this? You're being very… professional about it." he observed. Suddenly, Honard jerked back in pain. Allan jolted upright, "Honard!" he exclaimed, the glowing catching his eye. It felt as though something was draining out of him precisely where her hand was. The bullet was gone, but the pain seemed to be coaxed right out of his body. He didn't know what to do. "Augh," he grunted, and grabbed her arm, pulling it away from his leg. The glowing stopped, and the pain returned, although to a much lesser extent. He looked at her, eyes wide, then at his leg, then back at her, then at her thigh, then back at his own. "What? Why did– how could– !? H-Honard! Speak to me, Honard!" He was still bleeding a bit, but the wound was minimal. Quickly Allan sprang to his knees and grasped her by the shoulders. He shook her gently. "Honard," he said, "Honard are you okay? Can you hear me?"

Allan put his hand over top of her thigh, where the blood seemed to be seeping from. He touched it gingerly; the red spot was warm, and wet, as blood tended to be. He pulled back his hand quickly and stared at his fingertips in alarm. They were red, of course. Allan stood up and brought up his pants, then began to pace back and forth, his hands on his head, "Flipping mother of Christ," he sputtered, "This is– this is totally impossible, how did, why would–" Suddenly the enormity began to dawn on him. She goddamn healed me. The holes in her shirt… had she been healed, or had she healed by herself? How was this possible? His face went pale and he backed away from her for a second. There was something altogether strange about her. Is she even… human?
 
She did manage one thing. "It's pretty intuitive, and i'm pretty sure i've seen it before..." She murmurred, idley commenting on her own oddness without even thinking about it.

Honard groaned louder as another minute passed, her breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps, but still didn't let go. It was two minutes before he grabbed her arm away from his leg. She swayed as her eyes fluttered open, glazed over as the glow dissapeared completely. By now, his wound had mostly closed and re-knitted itself with no sign of scarring, or trace of the injury other than the blood and pain.

She swayed once more and was about to fall back as Allan managed to catch her by the shoulders just in time. She tried to focus on him, but her vision was still blurry, distracted by the searing pain in her leg that seemed familiar twice over. "W-what... happened..." She moaned, collapsing forward this time against him.

"Are... you alright?" She asked after a few more minutes had passed, the pain starting to subside now. As it did, the same thing seemed to happen to her wound, closing and re-knitting itself, though it did scar underneath her pants. She blinked several times, regaining her vision as she looked up at him, then down at her own blood soaked leg.

As he pulled back she felt forward, still not able to support herself up right, hitting the ground with another groan, her skin as pale as his face was.
 
As Honard slumped to the ground, Allan stepped forward as though to catch her, paused, glanced at his leg, stepped back, stepped forward and finally put his hands on his head, leaned back onto the wall and slid down it. "What… do… I… do?" he whimpered. He didn't want to touch her. What if she could absorb more than just his injuries? The awful memories of the drug cartel, all of the interrogations– both performed and sustained– what if she came into contact with mortal injury? Would she die instead? Allan's head sank between his knees. He'd found her buried in rubble with bullet-holes through her shirt, but no actual sustained injury. His head shot up and his jaw went slack. What if–

He jumped over to her and crouched beside her. She still seemed more or less incapacitated, albeit awake. "Honard…" he said softly, rolling her onto her back, he leaned down and hovered his cheek above her face to check her breath. Steady, a little quick, she didn't seem like she was in a great deal of pain. He stood up, and turned away from her, unzipped his trousers and looked down at what was formerly a gunshot wound. It had very nearly healed, save for a minute gouge and of course an enormous blood stain. He redid his pants and crouched by her again. "You are a strange and wonderful creature, Honard," he sighed, "But how could such a thing exist? He looked at her thigh and cocked his head to the side. The blotted area didn't seem to have expanded. In fact it looked like it had dried significantly rather than, what he had expected, continual bleeding. He looked at her face for a moment– she still seemed far off, in a daze– and ran his finger against her cheek. He couldn't help it, or so he told himself. He glanced down at her collar and chest, an ran his finger across the tiny hatches of scars that seemed to align with the bullets. Either she, or another, had sustained these injuries, and they had healed themselves. He looked down at her face meekly. "I'm sorry for this," he said, "But hey, you did it to me first." And unbuttoned her pants, hesitated, and then quickly brought them to her knees.

He gawked; she had hardly a trace of a wound, save for a tiny brushed scar on her thigh. He sat back, slack-jawed for a moment, then laughed. A few of his worries were put to rest. She wasn't in immediate danger of dying– in fact she was in less danger of it than he was. "Honard, you… you angel, how do you exist?" he mumbled, grasping her pants and tugging them up to her waist; but they caught on something. Allan looked. For a moment, he stared, mind blank. And then he turned white, let go of her pants, rotated, stared down at her breasts, and then back at the lump that was protruding within her underwear. He gulped, stood up and walked outside– still hobbling slightly on the one leg– into the sweltering heat. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands on his head. "I should have anticipated this." he said aloud, "I mean I guess natural abilities don't get much weirder, hey why not throw a pair of marbles into that bag of tricks."
 
She was indeed still concious, just not quite so coherent. "I... don't know... I don't think... you did anything..." She said, gulping for air as she tilted her head to the side slightly. "I-I don't know what's... going on... but surely you noticed... the holes in my shirt? And yes... I know you were staring more than once..." She said with a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it brought.

She breathed out as he turned her onto her back, looking up at him. "I-I think i'll be fine... the pain is starting to..." She trailed off, shuddering as he rubbed the scars on her chest. Her eyes widened, rapidly bringing her vision into focus, along with her other cognitive functions, just short of him pulling her pants down.

She bit her lower lip and looked away, praying silently that he wouldn't notice... he wouldn't notice... She jumped slightly as he went to tug her pants back up, causing it to rub against her length, earning a gasp. Suddenly the pressure was gone, and his foot steps were rapidly retreating. It took her a few minutes, but she was finally able to stand, pulling her pants back up as well.

She groaned as she sotod on the leg fully, stretching it out a bit to try and let it relax now. She limped slightly as she made her way to the opposite wall, leaning it back until her strength had returned. Great... now he knows i'm some kind of freak... She thought to herself, millions of thoughts running through her mind again. Would he leave her, kill her this time? Nothing was promising, she doubted she would make it it on her own, so it didn't really matter. She slumped back against teh wall, closing her eyes as she gently massaged at the transposed wound.
 
Allan returned– quietly. He peered at her from a few meters away; her eyes were closed. He made his way over to her very carefully, and sat down silently beside her. He sat there for a few minutes without a word. "I'm curious." he said finally, "Do you have both working sets? Fully-functional, like?" He paused, and then looked up at her. "I mean if that's the case, that's… well I'd call that pretty unique." he said, looking straight ahead. Glancing momentarily at his own pants, he chuckled. "The rest of us only get one or the other, but what you've got is… a blessing and a curse."

He stood up and walked forward a few steps. "I want to thank you. I don't know what you did or how you did it, but that's some crazy gift you've got there. I mean, hell, heat and all, I don't doubt I could've died. You're something else." he said, turning to her, "Thank you, Honard. I'm glad I found you."

There was a brief silence before he spoke again. This time Allan turned to the exit. "I think we should check out the shooter's setup. He may have some equipment we can use, and possibly a gun for you, if…" he trailed off, "You're still interested."
 
She visibly tensed at the sound of his foot steps approaching her now. Honard flinched as he sat down next to her, expecting the worse, but he was just asking questions... for now at least.... "How should I know? I didn't even notice until we stopped to using the restroom. The whole... memory loss thing, yeah?" She said snidely, her eyes still closed. She let out a laugh in the same tone. "Unique? Why don't you just out and say it. Freak is what you meant to say, yes?" She asked, tilting her head back so it was also against the wall, keeping her eyes closed still.

"Oh yeah. Crazy for sure. Gift? I nearly blacked out and it felt like someone was pushing a bullet slowly into my leg. Gift? Fuck that." She spat, shaking her head. "Thank me? If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have even been shot in the first place." She said, finally opening her eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

She was once again caught off gaurd, he still wanted her around? She looked down at him, staring intently. "You must be hella guilty then, if you were honest earlier. Only reason I can think of, that or you're damn crazy too..." She murmurred as she stood up. "You touch my chest again, and you wont have anything down there. We clear?" She said not liking the sensation it produced, the way she had shivered... "Hope they have pants or something that fit me... these are soaked." She said, not liking the way the bloody pants clung to her flesh.
 
Allan waited for her to finish speaking, and when turned to her his face lost its kindness. "Yeah okay, fine. I'll call you a freak if it makes you happy. But honestly, I…" he paused, then dismissed it, "Yeah you know what it's like to be shot? It's not goddamn pleasant, Honard. What you experienced, I can't say for sure, but in a time, a place like this," Allan put his hands up, "You might get shot for real. Frankly, Honard, yes– it is a gift. Check your leg. You have hardly the faintest trace of a wound, Honard. Your body can heal itself at a remarkable pace. When I found you, you were under a pile of rubble. Have you checked yourself? You have bullet holes– entry and exit. No typical human being could survive that kind of punishment, a goddamn firing squad? That is a gift no matter which way you spin it."

He walked over to her slowly and deliberately, and planted his hands on either side of her. "Honard, if anybody else knew about this– There are people who would exploit your gift the first chance they got. I know you still feel pain and if such a person got ahold of you, there would be no end to it. I can't let that happen, Honard. One way or another, I really do care about you. I don't want to see you fall victim to that kind of abuse.

"I won't touch you again." he promised with a heavy sigh, "But I can tolerate bullet wounds much better than you can, so I expect the same of you. First and foremost, you need to be able to defend yourself in the event that I'm not around." Allan stepped back and adjusted the gun on his shoulder. "So let's go loot that body."
 
"Like there's any other word for what I am? Normal sure as hell isn't one of them." She said with disdain, shaking her head. She froze as he mentioned her previous wounds, there was no doubt anyone else would have died from the seven shots.

The thought of being forced to 'heal' man after injured man... it sent a cold shiver down her spine, she'd kill herself before that happened. Honard closed her eyes again for a moment, trying to banish the thoughts before stepping forward, "Yeah let's just go, who knows if there's others around here, or a patrol that will come by." She said, following behind him, flexing the hand that had started glowing as it became slightly numb.

She sighed, shaking her head as they walked. "Look... i'm sorry for that... I don't even know who... or what I am. Blood loss, the pain, you suddenly finding out like that... kind of stressing." She tried to apologize, the pain was finally gone at least and she was able to walk normally, and the numbess passed from her hand.
 
He walked back outside and looked around. Nothing in sight. When she caught up to him and started apologizing, he turned to her, his face still plain. "Stop." he said, closing his eyes again, "I get it. You've got a lot going on; so do I. Can we just put the last hour behind us for a little while? I don't want this dragging on right now. Our goal is to find a way up into the parkade and loot that body. And I think it would be best if neither of us spoke of the other situation for the time being. Being overheard would be bad. Let's talk about something– anything else until we find a safer refuge to spend the night. We can discuss whatever it is we need to discuss, then and there. For now, only tactics, alright?"

Allan walked out around the corner of the crumbled building and then onward for a block or two, until they reached the crumbling parkade. He negotiated his way up onto the second story by means of a collapsed portion of wall, checked that the coast was clear, then turned around to see if she needed help getting up.
 
She didn't stop moving, but she did close her mouth for now. She couldn't blame him, she didn't even want to talk about it... or even know what to say. Hell, maybe she wasn't even human, who really knew? Could explain the firing squad if nothing else... "All I was going to say..."

She followed behind him the rest of the way in complete silence until they approached collapsed wall, hesitating for a moment. She grunted as she climbed up, thankful for her height which made it a little easier. She stood up unsteadily at first, but moved away from the ledge. "Well... come on, let's keep moving." She huffed.
 
Allan rolled his eyes, and walked with her up the ramp to the next level. Sure enough, the body was still there. He walked towards it, then gave it a quick kick to be absolutely sure. "Yep," he confirmed, "Dead as can be. I think you should stay back, Honard. I don't think either of us want you accidentally healing this guy." He bent low, and removed the grey cover– it was a cheap tarp, not worth much at all. Underneath, the shooter was wearing a dirty old wifebeater and a pair of slightly torn up but otherwise intact cargo pants. He'd been firing with a measly old AKS-74, which Allan observed to be a fairly light weapon. It would probably suit Honard just fine. He picked up the 6-pound rifle and handed it to Honard, then flipped over the shooter. The damage was now quite visible. The back of the man's head had been more or less intact, but his nose and jaw had been almost liquefied. Allan closed his eyes for a second. As much as he'd seen before, he still got a little nauseous when it came to unclean headshots. He reached down, undid and tugged on the shooter's pants, freeing them. There were a couple of few spare clips in the back pockets. He handed the pants to Honard, along with the clips. "Alright, here you go." he said, walking past her, "I'll try not to watch." Allan rolled his eyes with a slight smile.
 
She shuddered, seeing the damage from several feet back. She held the gun, putting the strap over her shoulder. "Dunno... I bet I looked worse than that. Yet, here I am." She said with a laugh, taking the pants as as well.

Honard, blinked, shaking her head. "Yeah, Don't want you getting sick, right?" She said as she walked a bit a way before removing her now stained and useless pants, putting on the new ones. They were a little loose, but had belt loops. She tore a length from teh good side of teh old ones, slipping it through the loops and pulling it taught. SHe nodded in satisfaction, taking the gun out as well and putting it in one of the pockets. "Anything else, or can we go now? He's already starting to smell..."
 
Allan chuckled slightly. "Yep. Here you are, alive and well. Can't say the same for this fella," giving the body a quick kick in the ribs, "Stupid fucker."

Upon her further comment, he turned to her and glared. "Now, I didn't goddamn say that, did I?" he muttered. He quickly considered some 'what-if' situations that might shut her up, but decided against them. He turned away from her and crossed his arms until he heard some shuffling. He glanced at the body on the ground, but as it were, she hadn't moved entirely out of the way and he 'accidentally' got another glimpse of her without pants. He snapped his head forward and turned his eyes down in shame, but turned a bit red. One way or the other, she certainly had a woman's curves. For a moment he stood there waiting, but the image had burned itself momentarily into his mind. Cock or not… he considered sheepishly, but pushed away additional thoughts. He coughed slightly and turned to her, redness subsiding. "Ah, I don't think he's got anything else, and I wouldn't like to check." he said, waving at his nose to disperse the corpse's smell. He began walking back down the ramp. "Let's get moving, I think the heat may have died down a bit. We should be able to make some headway before nightfall."

He jumped down where they'd entered the parkade and looked back up at her. The big cargo pants concealed everything below her hips: her extra bits, of course, but also her hips and legs, blending them into a pillowed silhouette of her shape. Allan wondered if she'd be hot in them, they didn't seem very light. He stepped back slightly and smiled. "Do you need me to catch you," he chuckled, "Or will your pantaloons do?"
 
She shrugged slightly. "Didn't have to, hell, I nearly did." She said as she turned around, not having realized he had turned to look at her for awhile. "Well, let's get going then, best to keep moving, neh?" She said as they started walking back down.

Honard stared down at him before walking up to the edge and looking down for a moment. She leaped down, clutching the rifle in her arms, landing evenly on the ground with her knees bent slightly. "...No, no I do not." She said, placing the rifle back on her shoulder, walking up to the entrance, looking around as she waited for him to catch up. She didn't turn to face him, but looked up. "...How is your leg feeling?" She asked her own wound pulsing slightly.
 
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