Captured (Open!)

"So, ya' know," Melodee said cheerfully as she skipped along the road, heat blaring down on the trio, something that either didn't bother the hyperactive girl, or went outright unnoticed by her. They had been travelling across the road alongside the desert for a few hours now in an attempt to get to the city, and hopefully was a place with a little less sand and a little more civilization. There was a gas station a while up, looked abandoned, no doubt somewhere they would finally stop and rest, but she wasn't paying too much attention to it. She was rather preoccupied with throwing her axe up in the air and catching it is it fell. Hadn't dropped it once! "There was this guy at the last place we were at that I forgot to say. Don't think you guys were there. Dunno why, think ya' were talkin' with someone or at the bathroom or sleepin'. Thought it was pretty interestin'. So, there was this guy that came up to me and asked if I like cats. And I was all," she put on a faux-posh voice, "'why yes good sir, I do like cats, there is nothing that I would rather do than pet a wittle fluffy kitty cat,'" posh voice suddenly ended. "And boy, was he angry. Dunno why he was angry, but he gave me this, like, death stare and asked if I liked dogs too. I was all 'yeah, sure, dogs're pretty cool I guess' and that got 'im even madder. So I'm standing there thinking 'I don't have to take this abuse on my day off! I take enough from my wife and kids!'" she had literally no idea what she was saying anymore, and her voice was raising into an even more excitable rush. "'I don't need to abide by you rules, I will fight the power, I will usurp the status quo!' so I stabbed the guy in the jugular and--" she transitioned between incomprehensible raving and clear statement of action swiftly and confusingly, but was cut off.

"Put down your weapons!" somebody yelled, bringing Melodee back to reality. They had neared the gas station, and as she was paying attention to the infinitely useful task of axe juggling, took a while to fully realize that a large number of raiders, donned in their dirty and bloody rags, both equal in amount of men and women, aimed pistols, rifles and shotguns directly at them. There were at least over thirty of them. That was problematic. Looking a tad sheepish, she turned her neck slightly to look at Karl and Maria, the ruggedly awesome man with the cowboy hat and everything, and the girl with the awesomely half burnt face.

"So, um, I'll finish the story after we kill these guys? I was gettin' to the good part!" she gave a vaguely psychotic smirk, the side of her mouth upturning.

The three stooges- I mean, companions, travelled down the hot, sweaty road. The psychotic teenage girl, the well-done teenage girl, and Dirty Dan the cowboy all traveled together in one dysfunctional - and slightly mental - group.

On the way, Melodee was twirling her axe, tossing it up into the air and catching it in an impressive display of weapon safety, all the while reminiscing about someone who may or may not have hated cats with a vengeance. Most people would've probably tuned Melodee out at this point, but Maria found her story hilarious, and giggled along with it.

And then Melodee mentioned taking enough abuse from her wife and kids, and Maria got so confused she started laughing even harder.

Unfortunately, this display of happiness must've been illegal in the wasteland, since some helpful law-enforcing officials showed up. And by law-enforcing officials, I mean evil raiders that were so dirty Maria smelled them from where she was standing.

They yelled at the group to drop their weapons. Maria, briefly, considered their odds in a fight, before noticing that the three of them would have a somewhat hard time fighting off a veritable platoon of smelly raiders. That, and there was no cover, unless you count sticking your head in the sand as "cover," and Maria wasn't an ostrich.

Maria, who's joyful mood was now ruined by the introduction of the fun-hating platoon of evil people, glared defiantly at the raiders, but put down her revolver nonetheless.

Melodee, however, had other plans. "So, um, I'll finish the story after we kill these guys? I gettin' to the good part!" she said, with a slight southern twang she no doubt picked up from their cowboy companion.

"No, Melodee. I'd rather not be picking bullets out of my face; I'm already scarred enough," Maria replied, holding her hands above her head. She looked over at Karl, and hoped he'd do the same, rather than charge in and get shot down.

Karl let out a brief deep chuckle at Melodee's story. His feet felt fairly sore and he would be glad to get some rest soon. He grabbed the canteen off of his belt and took a deep swig. It was fairly dirty, but not irradiated. Of course, there was always the chance of severe diarrhea, as he was sure many had had before him, but he was too bad ass to get sick from water. He noted the impressive display, but he could've done better. He tossed the canteen to Maria, their latest travelling partner, who was a good help in a fight, and a nice companion as well.

He stopped as soon as he noticed they were being watched. A bunch of raiders, who probably all had severe diarrhea, had come to ruin the story. He grunted as he hefted his shotgun up, ready to get to killing as Melodee had suggested. He wanted to hear the end of the story. Sadly, their latest smarty companion spoke up that they probably shouldn't fight. She was right. He saw tons of them, and they were sitting smack dab in the middle of the road. How many were there? Thirty? Fourty? He snorted and spat out a glob of phlegm. "'Course, they had t' come and ruin the story. But she's right, Mel. Ah know we're all bad ass 'n all, but ah doubt we'll get out of this unscaved. Do what they say." He set down his automatic shotgun, an eery scowl set on his face, as if he had an amazing plan on how to get out of this.

He still had a pistol stuck in his back pistol as some of them began to warily approach. He could see that the raiders were excited. Their red, bloody eyes, and wicked smiles. He was glad Melodee wasn't this version of crazy. "Hahah! Goods for us, boys!" said a rather large man. He wielded a deadly looking Flamer, and Karl did not want to be in front of that when it went off. The man was adorned in the skulls of his enemies, and had a necklace made out of teeth. "Gonna enjoy these two," he said, gaining a devilish grin, that exposed broken teeth, as he eyed over two of the members of their party.

"Try anythin' an' ah brake what's left of yer' mouth." Karl said through clenched teeth. "Oh, we got a big hero! Go ahead, big guy, try anything and you all get a good bit of lead added to you. I prefer live victims, but dead ones will do fine." He let out an evil cackle as a few more of his goonies approached. They quickly donned their wrists in fashionable leather. "Don't try anythin', Mel." he whispered, glaring right at the girl. "Get movin'," one of the raiders said, "I can't wait to taste you."

Karl glared ever more, but obliged. They were being walked to some where. Where they were being taken? He didn't know.

Melodee was conflicted between abiding by what her two companions thought was the intelligently best course of action, and her own compulsive reaction to shove her axe into the neck of the first nearby raider. It was quite the quandary. Looking wildly back and forth between her friends and the raiders, she groaned heavily and dropped her axe, a weapon that she had long ago sawn the handle off, and reached to her hip to upholster and drop her sawn-off shotgun. She went quiet upon hearing Karl ask her not to 'try anything', and gave a frown at the helpless situation she was currently in. Not do anything? Every instinct in her being screamed at her to jump at the first raider she saw and to bite his/her neck out, and to keep biting. But obviously Karl knew what he was doing, and instead suppressed her growing bloodlust as they walked along.

It was unbearable. The only thing that she could do to diminish her need for wanton and bloody violence upon her capturers was to ascend further and further into her imagination. She subdued herself by thinking of her hacking the limbs off the man closest to her. Thinking how long it would take before he bled out and died, or fell unconscious from shock. She imagined hammering in needles into the arms and legs of one of the female raiders. She wondered how much they would scream in searing hot pain, how much they would beg for it to end, and just how satisfying it would have been. Thinking this as they walked, Melodee's expression grew more and more eerie and disturbing, she began to hunch over more, her eyes were widened, and her mouth pushed into a teeth-showing smirk. Occasionally she quietly giggled.

Melodee wasn't too sure how long it took for them to reach their destination, she was too far confined in her mind to have cared or noticed. But she was cognizant enough to see where they had been taken. The area was as if someone had found a regular, by-the-road convenience store, and built out from there. There were metal shafts and wooden boards built out from the original building to create other haphazard and poorly constructed buildings. There were also a large amount of tents scattered around the area, from incredibly small one-man tents, to larger twelve-men ones. One thing was consistent, however, and that was the constant stream of pikes littered around the place, heads of varying levels of freshness donned over the tops of them. Over the original convenience store were several bodies that had been erratically and aimlessly nailed to the front of the building, with no real order or pattern between them. Some had been nailed upside down, sideways, over other bodies. They varied between skeletons and fresh bodies that were still bleeding down.

"Three people?" one man at the front of said store began, talking to one of the women who captured us. "Not bad, not bad," he said softly, as if he were almost bored. There was something striking about his appearance, namely, it was completely different from every other raider there. He wore a white, fancy suit, with white trousers and a white tie with white leather gloves. He seemed, as far as Melodee could tell with her powers of discerning, to enjoy white, and if there was one thing that was always distinctive about white -- it made the streams of blood that were spurted over it stand out that much more. There was one large one over his right front, with some splatters over his trousers, and some drops on his gloves. The most that could be said was that it was marginally less than the other raiders, but his seemed a lot more effecting with the bright background. The man cleared his throat, and actually bowed to them, his voice suddenly that much more chipper.

"Greetings, friends! My name is Aeron Carpio, and welcome to our fine establishment! I will be your tour guide for this fine evening! Come in, come in, make yourself at home!" he motioned towards the convenience store, the doors already wide open. "Wipe your shoes and boots on the door mat before you go in, please. I'm sure you understand. Cleanliness and all that."

After the three were captured in short order, they were dragged through the desert for who knows how long. Maria noticed Melodee was eerily grinning at times, presumably at the thought of slaughtering their captors and wearing their skins as tents. Maria herself sympathized with the sentiment.

They were then paraded into an encampment, and straight into the person who was probably the boss.

Said boss wore white. As in, all white. He wore so much white, that if Maria's life were an animation of some sort, this guy would be drawn using the eraser. He also wore entirely formal attire, which was annoyingly clean. He had created a stark contrast to the rest of the wasteland with his dress sense, save for the rather prominent blood stains.

As it turns out, his mannerisms were equally refined, greeting the trio with a bow and "Greetings, friends!" like he was talking to people at a formal dinner, rather than his future slaves and/or dinner, depending on what kind of raiders these were.

Hell, Aeron even told them to wipe their shoes before going inside, which Maria probably would've done if she wasn't rudely shunted into the building before she could do so.

Maria, however, wasn't relieved by his manners. If anything, they put her more on edge. After all, Aeron was a leader of morally bankrupt raiders, and Maria doubted their favorite past-time was a tea party with biscuits.

The group entered the convenience store. Inside, it looked like basically every other convenience store in the wasteland nowadays. As in, it was a disaster. Dross lay everywhere, the bunkbeds were placed around randomly, etc. So much for cleanliness.

"Welcome to our humble abode!" Aeron said. "Truly sorry if my friends were in any way rough, but you know how raiders can get."

"Don't worry, they were gentle," Maria replied, deadpan. It was ambiguous if she was serious or not.

"This is where you shall be staying for the evening -- I know it's not high class, but ha, what is nowadays?" Aeron continued. "My friends will probably be visiting in a bit for you two girls, many apologies for their behaviour, but sometimes you have to keep those with uninhibited impulses in check. I'm sure you understand."

Well, he had a wonderfully eloquent way for saying "you gone get raped, girl."

"Any questions? Queries?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I'm gay, sorry," Maria replied, still deadpan. The half-lie was mostly just in the vain hope that the women would be slightly gentler than the men. Maybe.

He gave a small chuckle. "Well, we do have women here. But I'm truly sorry to say, but your feelings in the matter amount to nothing."

"Oh, well, I also have several STDs. And various other diseases that may or may not be deadly," Maria added, still being as deadpan as usual.

Aeron just grinned. "So do they."

"Oh, fuck me," Maria replied, aggravated.

The man they met. Aeron Carpio was certainly one of the top five creeps he had seen during his time in the Wasteland. For one, he had the whole suit get up. Stark white with prominent blood stains. Oh, what Karl would do to cover that suit with red. Two great colors that surely would go well together on this man. Secondly, he had a bit of posh about to him. As if he wasn't going to eat them. And seriously, why would he be wearing white of all colors in the wasteland? Was he really that stupid? He could barely keep in the urge to deck him as the man kept the scheme going. But as soon as he heard about 'the visit' he was finished.

"This is where you shall be staying for the evening -- I know it's not high class, but ha, what is nowadays?" Aeron continued. "My friends will probably be visiting in a bit for you two girls, many apologies for their behavior, but sometimes you have to keep those with uninhibited impulses in check. I'm sure you understand."

He would have responded, but Maria's attempt to persuade the man had failed. He somehow had the sliver oh hope that her well done face would save her, but he highly doubted it.

"Alright, ah'm gunna give yuh one chance t' let us go. If yuh don't, ah'm afraid yer' entire group's gunna die." He stepped forward until the their faces were just inches apart. Listen here, he whispered, "If you so much as lay a finger on any of them. Ah will kill yuh personally. Don't test my metal, son." He knew at this point, he was more or less playing Russian Roulette, and the odds certainly weren't in his favor.

The man didn't flinch, back off, or show fear. His smile just grew and grew until he burst out into laughter. "Oh, that's brilliant! Kind of like something a protagonist would say, eh?" He walked back to the exit, his raiders still in the room. "Well then, good sir, let's hope for you that you actually are the protagonist. Maybe you might survive this ordeal, and if that's so, then I wish you luck killing 'my group'." He gave one last smile to the trio before leaving, his laugh growing softer as he moved further away.

The man was really pissing him off. For one, this wasn't some big fanfiction or anything. It was real life. He wasn't some 'protagonist' in a book. As soon as the man left, the raiders began their turn. Obviously they feared their leader for some reason. Immediately he had the end of a sawed off shotgun pointed straight into his face. Karl grunted as the gun collided against his head, he recoiled a bit, and it would leave a big bleeding bruise. "Heh. Yer' gonna hafta hit harder than that, punk." The other three raiders responded with what he would probably call a fairly bad beating. He let them for a small while. Then he tackled Sawed Off and rammed him against the wall. Sawed Off's friend let off an evil cackle and Karl gasped as he felt his left leg go. A baseball bat right to the knee. As he went down, another smacked him right in the face and he fell to the ground. Another, to the ribcage. After a few more hits, they must have decided they were done, and ready for the main course.

The three raiders turned on two his companions.

Aeron wondered if he had found his main characters as he walked over to his tent, loosening his tie as he moved. It was just a one-man tent, incredibly small and for the sake of containing heat on cold nights. Unzipping it, he whistled an old tune he enjoyed, cheery and fast paced, and didn't notice one of the raiders approaching.

"Aren't you, like, really hot in that?" the dirty raider said, sporting loose rags in the desert heat.

"Boiling," Aeron said succinctly, rummaging through the end of his tent, pulling out a bag. "It's purely for the psychological effect, I'll be taking it off soon. I'll be leaving for the city after I'm done here." His voice was even, soft-spoken, and somewhat deadpanned, almost as if he were bored -- a large difference between his over-the-top persona and faux polite behavior.

"I don't get it, what... psychological effect?" the raider replied. Aeron sighed, quite obviously annoyed by the man. He rummaged more through his bag, trying to find something buried at the bottom. He brought out a hammer. It was lightly rusted, most of the paint having faded away.

"Then follow me, maybe you'll learn something," Aeron said, getting to his feet, adjusting his white tie back up. He walked back over to the convenience store, but turned right instead of going back in. The building to the right of it expanded out from the convenience store with metal sheets -- it had no roof, the sun blaring down on the people inside, merely four walls around it and a small entrance. Moving through it, he saw that there were still four prisoners still inside. Two women and two men. One of the women had rather extensive burns on her body, but aside from that, he didn't care too much about what the people looked like. They were tied down to two metal chain link beds, their mouths gagged with rope. "Hello!" he said cheerily and loudly, "How are we today? I don't believe I've introduced myself yet!" He gave a bow, the hammer still clenched in his hand. "My name is Aeron Carpio, and it is lovely to make all your acquaintance. Now," he gestured towards the raider he was talking to earlier. "This man--"

"Paul."

"Uh huh, Paul. Sure." He kept his cheery disposition, but the raider, 'Paul', interrupting him but a certain edge in his voice. "Now, Paul here wanted to know why I'm wearing this get-up in such blistering temperature, and I wanted to educate my... good friend here." It became obvious to the raider, and to the four tied down, that there was something very, very wrong. "Does anyone here read many books? Actually, never mind, don't tell me. One thing that I have found prevalent, is for the... villain, so to speak, to be well-spoken, polite, even while at their most depraved. Usually a connoisseur of fine art and wine." His smile grew with every passing moment. "But instead of say, his manners endearing the man to the reader, it seems to almost... enhance their wickedness. But what is a villain without the protagonist to thwart them in the end?" He turned to the raider, and put a hand on his shoulder. Paul's breath was visually caught as Aeron's grip on tightened, the raider just staring wide-eyed. "I merely play the part of the clichéd villain, my friend. So that when I find my story's protagonist, they know, know intrinsically, that I am the one they need to foil."

"O-okay. Okay, sure, I getcha. I'll just... I'll just... y'know, lea--" he barely even saw the metal flying to his face, didn't see it in time to stop the hammer from bashing the side of his head. Aeron brought it back, and swung yet again. Blood flowed down his forehead, and spurted on his suit and face as it made contact. Aeron's smile never left as the raider, one 'Paul', slid to the ground limply. He had been killed instantly upon the very first strike. He spun around back to the prisoners, and gave a psychotic grin, two of the prisoners whimpering behind their gags.

"The protagonist lives for the climax, my friends. So know this, when the raiders come, when they force you down and violate every inch of your body before slitting your throat and hanging you to dry, know that I, Aeron Carpio, was the man to order it. I await my protagonist, dear friends." He moved to the exit, but turned around one last time, his smile still etched on his face.

"I'm sure you understand."

------------

Melodee kept quiet throughout the entire thing. But it was growing to the bursting point. The need to led blood flow was unbearable. She ignored the words that the man in the white suit spouted, merely wondering what it would look like with it covered in his own blood.
And his limbs missing. She nearly snapped when the first hit was thrown at Karl, but she resisted. He said not to do anything. He said not to do anything. The beating escalated. She just stood there, shivering, as her psychotic grin grew more strained. Her breathing grew heavier and heavier. When they turned to both her and Maria after they finished with the man, Melodee gave them a seething stare.

He said no. He said no. He said no. He said no. Karl. Said. No.

They need to die. They have to die. They should die. They will die.

The second the one with the sawed-off shotgun neared her, she lunged under the weapon and his arms. Using the confusion of the unexpected attack, she jumped up, and sunk her teeth into his shoulder, and part of his neck. He screamed out in pain and horror, blood flowing from the bite. He struggled to throw her off, but she just bit down harder and harder. "Getheroff, get her fucking off me!" he yowled. The one with the baseball bat readied the bat, while the other actually began laughing maniacally. Bat-Person swung the weapon, only to fail amazingly, hitting the raider on his other shoulder and only scraping her. He screamed even louder, shouting off curse words wishing various forms of horrible death and destruction upon everyone in the room.

Bat-Person did not miss a second time. Bashing into the nape of her neck, she released upon her grip, giving the raider enough time to shove her off to the ground, her smashing into the ground. She spat out a piece of the man's flesh, blood oozing down her mouth. The hit disorientated her, her body became numb, her vision confused and unfocused, she couldn't remember there having been six of them... She could vaguely note two raider's simultaneously pointing two sawn-off shotguns at her, only to be stopped by the one that was laughing previously, saying something like "it's no fun if she's dead."

She couldn't move anymore. All the feeling exited her body as she was pushed down. Sorry Karl, couldn't stop myself...

Karl put on an impressive, but ultimately futile, display against the white-suited creton. He ended up laughing it off, wondering if Karl would be the "protagonist" to his villain. Maria inwardly laughed. Obviously, she'd be the protagonist; Karl would probably be the deuteragonist at best, or more likely the 'lancer,' as it was called. Though, that would make Melodee the love interest. Hm...

Maria stopped contemplating literature tropes to get back to the task at hand. Aeron left the room, and Karl almost immediately got into a fight with a guy wielding a sawn-off. Karl was now equipped for a brawl, and was promptly beaten down, as Maria watched helplessly. Then it got worse.

Maria just stared as Karl was getting beat, but Melodee charged straight in, biting a guy on the neck. After an impressive display of the lack of coordination on the part of the bat-wielding raider, he clobbered her off the raider, as Maria continued watching helplessly. Then the raider started to climb on Melodee...

And then Maria, having been almost forgotten, punted the raider in the head, out of sheer rage. "You motherfucking prick!" She shouted, as she then stomped on the man's head. She heard a crack, but whether it was lethal or not, she couldn't tell, because she was promptly slashed at by someone and their knife. It cut a deep gash in her right arm, and she spun around to face her attacker, who swung his knife vertically... only to slice off the rope binding her wrist.

Maria didn't have long to appreciate her newfound freedom, however, as she was immediately smashed right in the face with a baseball bat from a very pissed off raider. She felt her nose break and bleed, and she hoped she could recover from that, but the raider didn't let her. He then got on top of her, and started swinging his fists, trying to pummel her head into the ground. Maria tried to block, but it was futile, as she was getting knocked around too hard. Then everything went black, as her consciousness faded.

Karl couldn't handle it anymore. Enough of the simple attempts. They needed to win, if they didn't... he wouldn't think about it. It hurt him deeply to see Mel attempting to fight back. And losing. A deep growl sounded through his throat, more of an anger kind of thing as he recovered a bit. The bruises he could handle. Maybe not any broken ribs. Hopefully he didn't have any. But he still felt like complete shit. Still, that would come down later, for now, it was time to fight.

He almost chuckled, the raider who had tied their hands was a severe idiot who placed them on the front. Too easy. It was simple to grab the switchblade from the confines of his sleeves. He grabbed it in both tied up hands and charged.

The man standing over Maria was dead before he even knew it. Karl jammed the switchblade deep within his neck, and the man seized up and died instantly. He swung the body around as the other raiders reacted to his stunt. The insanely loud blast of a sawed off shotgun went off, and the corpse he was holding was peppered with pellets that went through and pounded off of his armored duster. He felt his breath go, but tossed the corpse at Sawed-Off #1. He yanked the knife out as the body was thrown.

He charged Sawed-Off as another blast went off. He heard the loud pinging as it hit the ceiling. He was out. The man barely had time to drop the gun as the corpse fell on him. Karl swooped for it, unloading the breech instantly and grabbing two of his shells from his pocket. Did they really not look for things like this? He fired at one of the men, who yelled out in pain. He backed off, three guys left. Bat-Person, Sawed-Off #2, and Knifey. Odds certainly weren't in his favor. It was a bit of a standoff as they all faced each other. He only had one shell. Three guys. One with a big shotgun. Their guns went off at the same time. Pellets grazed his shoulder, he grimaced as he charged forwards, Sawed-Off #2 was down, with a good sized hole in his stomach. He held the shotgun up as Baseball swung. The weapons clanked off another. Knive stabbed and slashed with his knife, a good sized one, around six or seven inches, Karl barely had time to back up against the wall, before clubbing the man in the ribs. The man gasped, and he swung again, this time right in his face.

Knifey went down for a few moments and Karl side-stepped a swing. He grabbed hold of the bat and yanked it out from Baseball's hands. He flipped it around and swung, again and again and again. The man fell onto the ground as Karl beat his head into a pulp. Knivey seemed to be afraid, and tried to run, but Karl aimed on right at his legs, making him scream and fall. The man quickly received a similar fate.

He dropped the baseball bat and stood panting for a few moments. Then he realized they were all dead. He kneeled beside his two companions. "C'mon, c'mon. Wake up, we gotta git goin', don't have much... time left." He wheezed for breath as he tried to recover.

Aeron brought out a handkerchief from his pocket, cleaning the bloodied hammer as he walked, moving back to his bag. It had been a small interruption, but a fun one. Hopefully no-one else talked to him again. He didn't have the time. Grabbing his bag from near his tent, dumping the hammer inside, he moved over to one of the larger tents.

A minute later, showcasing some rather impressive talent for undressing and dressing swiftly, he appeared from the tent in vastly different attire from what he had before --  in fact, it was actually appropriate for the weather now. He now wore light and plain clothing, long sleeves shirt and a hat with cloth stitched over it, covering his neck and the sides of his head from the sun. He looked around for a few moments before finding the one he wanted, and approached a female raider sitting down and eating... something. He really didn't want to know what. He tapped her shoulder, making her jump slightly before slowly turning around.

"You do that thing I asked?" he asked, voice flat and to the point.

"Uh, tell everyone where you're going?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"You tell everyone? Exactly where I'm going?" There was a light edge of anger in his voice.

"Y-yes?" He glared at her for several moments, a certain tension filling the air, his face slowly turning more and more into a displeased frown. This lasted several seconds, before the expression disappeared completely, he cracked a smile and chuckled lightly.

"Just messing with you. Good job, good job." He turned around, moving to another tent, whistling to himself. The raider gave an audible sigh of relief.

He entered another tent, and brought out the thing that always made his life much, much easier: a bicycle. Wheeling it out the road, looking back at the convenience store, a small smile rose on his face as gunshots rang out. "Don't disappoint me, heroes." And with a cheery whistle, he rode off towards the city. It would be quite a trip.

---------------

Her vision was a mess of distorted colours, and any attempts at fixing on one thing ended with it switching to something else entirely, her ears ringing from the hit from the bat. Couldn't focus. She wasn't quite sure what was happening, only that swings and shotguns blasts rang out. After a bit, her vision focused a tad more, and stared up as Karl talked and took off her ropes. Barely even heard him. Something about going. Freeing her hands, she slowly trudged to her feet. Her balance was way off, and ending in her moving in the opposite direction of where she intended, and grabbed onto a store counter to keep herself standing. She panted lightly, rubbing her eyes as her vision slowly collected itself.

"Okay," she said. "Okay, I'm good. How do we... how do we... uh..." She rubbed the back of her head, and took a single step. Seemed she got her balance back, and moved slowly to pick up the baseball bat that was on the ground, swinging it over her shoulder. "Um... suppose we can't, y'know, go with my plan and try and kill'em all? I mean, that sounds pretty good t'me, but uh, you always say my plans suck."

Maria was vaguely aware of someone calling to her. Consciousness had yet to return to her fully, and her vision was extremely blurry at the moment. She tried to look around, but everything hurt too much, and she just laid there for a minute, trying to keep her head from exploding from pain.

She brought her hand up to her face, and felt that her nose was definitely broken; a minor setback, as it should heal pretty quickly. Regenerative powers were useful like that. The concussion, on the other hand, she was less sure about. Did her healing abilities extend to brain damage? She certainly hoped so.

After lying for a minute, she sat up slowly, and immediately felt even dizzier. Upon trying to stand, she fell right back over, and vomited on the ground. Spots danced around in her vision, and she lied back down.

"I'll need a minute, I'm not feeling very well," she mumbled as best she could, that it came out mildly distorted due to being loopy. She certainly hoped this would go away soon.

All three of them were in no shape to be fighting suddenly. And to be honest, he felt the same way. Melodee stumbled around, picking up the baseball bat left on the ground and hefting it onto her shoulder. "Um... suppose we can't, y'know, go with my plan and try and kill'em all? I mean, that sounds pretty good t'me, but uh, you always say my plans suck."

Karl chuckled as he kept a stern eye on Maria. The bruises that the guy had beat onto her charred face seemed to slowly heal themselves. He was a bit surprised. Did high amounts of radiation exposure give you super powers or something? He already knew about her magical healing powers, but still, it was a surprise. As for Melodee, he hoped she was going to be okay. The two of them seemed sluggish and really out of it. "Whelp, ah think we kin go ahead with yer' plan now, Mel. Seems like th' plan needs a bit more 'smash faces in' and less 'let's wait an' see if we kin' do somethin' cool'. Both plans have their uses, but ah think th' former is th' best choice right now."

He shook himself to get rid of any leftover jitters as he loaded the shotgun. They didn't have many weapons between the three of them. He handed Mel one of the shotguns and took a pistol off a corpse and gave it to Maria. He could hear the yelling and voices of the raiders as they got up and running. They'd be coming in soon. His group was heavily outnumbered. There must've been at least fourty of them out there.

"Ah dunno if ya'll 'r ready or not, but here they come." he said as he heard the sound of a door breaking down. He took cover behind one of the ragged shelves that was still standing. "I just wanna feel your flesh!" he heard from one of the raiders as three people charged in. The three were probably cannon fodder. Their eyes were red like blood and they had chunks of their own skin eaten off. All of them had various makeshift weapons of a sort. A lawn-mower blade made into a machete, one with a gauntlet covered in barbed wire, and the last had a sledgehammer with a spike welded onto one end. Karl pulled the trigger as the one with a machete turned around his cover. His face went kablooey and his corpse thudded to the ground. The other two let out wild yells of glee as they turned directly on him.

Karl lept backwards as a sledgehammer wished by a few inches from his face. He fired the other round in the breech, but it was only a glancing shot, and the sledgehammer crazy gasped but was still standing. Karl held up his double barrel as the sledgehammer came down again. It snapped in two and he cursed instantly. He took the splintered end of the wooden stock and charged forwards, jamming as much wood as he could within the eye sockets of the raider. He could hear more coming as the raider seized up and stopped moving.

Hardly having enough time to gloat at the fact that someone accepted her plan of attack, she shook her head several times to try and rid herself of any remaining dizziness. She had recovered from much worse, after all, and she couldn't help but grin at the idea of finally attacking back at the people who dared keep her constrained. Being handed the sawed-off shotgun from Karl, she tucked it into her trousers, and held the baseball bat tightly with both hands.

As the three raiders all barrelled into the room, they all seemed to go to the one guy who actually seemed like a threat, and not the shrimp with a bat. Karl managed to shoot one -- his head exploding in a satisfying shower of brain and skull -- and only just managed to repel another, the third one not being too far behind lunging at the man if it weren't for her bat colliding with his knee. He went tumbling over screaming in pain as his knee cap shattered. In her experience, that was a fairly simple area to attack for quick incapacitation. Incredibly fragile, it only required a bit of accuracy to hit it. But she understood that there was a lot more raiders outside. There wasn't any time to enjoy the moment, so after he went tumbling down, she brought the bat back again and smashed it over the back of his head as hard as she could. The head? Also very fragile. He was probably killed instantly. Although she wasn't taking any chances, and swung it back down again. Yeah. He was probably dead now.

Turning around, there was another two rushing in through the door. Only these had pistols, and were readying them up. Giving off a surprised yelp, she jumped over a collapsed shelf as the bullets went flying, a single bullet grazing her shoulder.

What Melodee missed, however, was a raider at the door readying a suspiciously large pipe like instrument over her shoulder, giggling and giving a shout. "Maaan, I've always wanted to try this!" The other two raiders with the pistols turned their necks around curiously. They instantly blanched and stiffened up, giving off curses of alarm as they hauled themselves out of the way.

Melodee peered over the shelf just in time to see the rocket fly overhead. It managed to miss every overturned shelf, and collided with the far back wall. She quickly put her head down even further with her hands covering her head as the resulting explosion ensued. Cement debris and dust flung everywhere, the cackle of the raider echoing out. She didn't raise her head for several seconds, and only then she peered slightly out. There was a huge hole in the back wall, the long and stretching desert outside. Wasn't much more to be said about it. Turning around, she slowly got to her feet, the shockwave from the blast making her unsteady for a couple moments. One of the pistol raiders had dropped his gun and was throttling the rocket raider’s throat, screaming and raving about how they found the launcher yesterday in a pile of garbage, and had literally no idea if it would have worked properly or blown up directly in their faces. As the other pistol raider countered with saying how it actually did work, they didn't seem to notice her creep up with her shotgun.

She unloaded the first shot into the back of the raider still holding her pistol, her head showering everyone in close proximity with liquid red and gore. The raider who dropped his pistol whipped his head around to her as the shot rang out. He dropped the throat of the rocket raider and tried to scramble back to his pistol. The last shell in the shotgun blasted into his chest, the raider crumbling down in a pool of his blood. She whistled cheerfully to herself as she picked up the pistol next to the man, and hovered it over the rocket raider, still recovering from her being strangled. She unloaded two shots. One into her heart, other into her head.

Turning the pistol to the door, she fired wildly out through it, and turned around to run to gaping hole in the building, still firing behind her as other raiders tried to get inside. "Let's go! To adveeentuuuuure!" she giggled, the battle high coursing through her veins.

Maria clutched her head as she slowly stood up, trying to shake off the effects of a concussion. She was handed a handgun by Karl, and no sooner had Maria taken it than some raiders barged into the room.

Karl and Melodee waded directly into battle, but Maria just dived behind a counter to avoid getting hit by stray bullets. Unfortunately for her, a raider with a knife came in through a side door, right near where Maria was hiding.

Maria wheeled on him, but she was tackled - again - before she had a chance to shoot him. Maria pushed the knife away from her face, and the raider brought it up, before jamming it back down. Maria stopped it with her right hand, the knife going clean through out the back of it. She yelled in anger and pain, as her left hand socked the raider in the jaw, stunning him long enough for Maria to pull the knife out of her right hand and shove it into his neck.

The blood burst out of the raider's neck and on to Maria, having hit an artery, staining her shirt and face. She shoved the raider off her, and scrambled to get her gun, which had skidded away. She then grabbed the knife out of the dead man's neck.

A nearby explosion deafened her, as well as knocked her down. She looked up to see a chunk of the wall knocked out, and with her ears ringing she turned to see Melodee kill three of them, in an odd silence, before turning tail and running for the hole. Maria followed after her, her handgun at the ready, thankful that she was left handed and could still use it.

There were raiders on the outside, as well. A small group who looked surprised to see people running out of a demolished wall were trying to reach for their guns, but Maria shot off three bullets, getting one in the jaw, one in the chest, and another in the shoulder. She shot off again at the latter, getting him in the neck, putting him out of commission as the others slowly bled out, unable to do much from shock and pain.

Karl’s blood was just starting to flow. As always, Melodee was ever the excited one. He was the more stern, but he still loved his fair share of fighting now that the tables had turned. He had wanted a find, but holy hell! They brought in a rocket launcher! He made sure to keep his head down, as the resulting explosion rocked the entire structure. “Hah, mother fuckers!” he said as he got up from his prone position. Two new shells into the breech, two more blasts of buckshot out of the hole. Two more raiders dead. He turned around to see Melodee had taken the opportunity to announce their escape.

He laughed out loud, a deep chuckle as he ran towards their new exit. He stopped next to their travelling companion outside, who had just shot three raiders. "Nice shot, girl. But, you might want to go on the defensive," he said as he looked back into the building, pointing out that a lot of them were getting off their asses finally. He ran like hell with Maria right on his tail. “God damn, Mel! Your plans may be stupid sometimes, but they never fail us, do they? You sure know how to start a fight!” He chuckled and grabbed a round object hidden in one of his pouches.

He'd been saving this beauty.

“Frag out!” he yelled as he pulled the pin, launching the grenade straight back into the hole. Sounds of alarm came from the raiders as they realised what he had done. “Fire in the hole! Hah hah!”

The resulting explosion seemed enough after the damage that had been caused by the rocket. The supports groaned from the stress and eventually collapsed in on themselves. Screams and shouts of pain and surprise came from inside and he let out a mad laugh. Damn raiders deserved it! “Come on, I’m sure they got our stuff stashed somewhere around here. let’s go find it!” He stopped and stood next to Mel, recovering some of his breath. God damn was this exciting! He couldn't wait for more of it, but they'd need a better arsenal than what they had currently. He doubted a few rusty pistols would be able to take out a legion of raiders. He seriously wanted his riot shotgun back. It was a good weapon, great for firing a lot of buckshot into a bunch of people.

“Question,” Mona said, their group of five resting outside of a convenience store in the shade, a building right next the long winding desert road. Three men, two women, all wearing light clothing that covered a lot of skin. They were tasked with the simple reconnaissance of the local growing raiders groups – numbers, location, weaponry, anything of use. But most importantly, any information regarding the man called Ivan Harmon, the man said to be a large force behind the sudden increase in the raider population. “It’s been, what, two years since the bombs dropped?”

“Around that, yeah,” the squad leader, Jean, said.

“I mean, I know that people can get pretty fucking crazy, but I’m finding it difficult to believe that in just two years, a band of collectively cannibalistic, murdering, raping psychopaths would be formed. It ain’t strange for the odd person here and there, but an entire fucking group? People are bastards, yeah, but psychological degradation ain’t that quick or widespread. It’s like it’s a disease.”

“Probably is.”

“Huh?”

“Come on, you know the Survivors and what they were given. Is it really that far of a stretch to say that instead of giving them superhuman powers, it destroyed their minds? That’s my theory, anyway.”

“Meh, I have no idea anymore, this whole thing is just—“

“There’s someone,” one of the men stated, pointing out to the road about fifty metres down. All five instantly got up, grabbing their weapons.

“Just one guy, but be wary,” the leader said as the man down the road, walking at a brisk pace towards them, put his hands up in the air, indicating that he wasn’t a threat. The man wore a baseball cap over his head and loose long sleeved clothing, and a bandana over the bottom of his face.

“’Eyy!” the man called out in a friendly voice, his accent somewhat reminiscent of a strange mixture of a Boston accent and a Texan. “How’re y’all doin’ today?” Cheery fellow. Didn’t seem like it would be a problem, he lowered his arms when it become clear the group wasn’t going to shoot him.

“What are you doing out here?” the leader asked, calm and collected.

“Escaped from a raider one o’ ‘em raider groups, man. Fuckin’ scary, ah tell ‘ya.” The leader gave the man a doubtful look.

“You’re rather… cheery for a man who just escaped from a group of depraved murderers.” The man gave a slight frown to him.

“’Ey. ‘Ey, pal. Ya’ can’t presume to know how ah feel, man. The minds a complex enigma wrapped inside o’ a riddle and a rubix cube, ya’ can’t be all presumptuous an’ shit ‘bout how I deal wit’ ‘dis here trauma! Ah’m a delicate flower ya’ know, just hidin’ it behind mah cheery façade, man!” Jean sighed. He was just dealing with an idiot.

“Of course,” the leader said, voice deadpanned. “How silly of me.”

“I’m sure yeh understand, man.”

“Yes, yes. Now if you continue down the road for another -- Christ, get ready to walk – goddamn ages, you’ll find a camp. You might be given water, food and shelter for a while. Emphasis on 'might'. We’re kind of strapped for resources and our group can be rather... specific in who they help, so you probably won’t be there for lo—“

In the span of a second, the man grabbed around the neck of his comrade, holding him in front of him. He grabbed the pistol holstered at his side, moving faster than any man he had seen, lunged his arm up and shot the other man in the face.

“Shi—!“ Mona managed to say as she tried to point her shotgun up. Another shot rang out. Blood exited out the back of her head. She fell over. Acting on instinct, he turned and ran towards to building – and saw to the side that his other female comrade thought the same. Two shots rang out. The woman fell. He closed his eyes and launched himself through the window, a bullet scraping his shoulder, and winced in pain as glass showered around him, hitting the ground forcefully. Winded and gasping for breath, he got his pistol out, taking cover under the window. Another bullet rang out – but he heard no collision against the building, or any bullet overhead. Giving a swift peek up, he was able to see his last man fall, the monster’s initial human shield.

“Well, that was easy,” the monster said cheerily and loudly, and gave a small contented whistle. Any trace of his strange accent was gone. Any slang was gone. “Seriously, are you guys supposed to be professionals?” he said in an almost inquisitive tone, as the man crawled along the ground to a different window. “Because that’s just plain embarrassing. My fucking raiders could have done a better job and they’re awful at everything.”

Jena’s blood froze, as he realised just who was talking. He heard the monster’s footsteps near, he wasn’t even trying to get to cover, just slowly walking towards the building.

“Although that was a pretty nice dolphin di—“

Jean sprung up, a single shot shattering the new window he had crawled to. Swiftly firing off five shots, they all hit their mark. All directly to the torso. Each shot made the monster take a small step back. After, he just stared down at his chest, shocked. Then he fell, landing with a thud on the concrete, right on his back, not moving anymore. Gasping for breath, he knocked over the left-over glass on the window with his pistol, and slowly stumbled over it, his leg protesting in pain upon landing. Leaping through the window probably did some damage. But Jean was a cautious man, and he had heard some stories about the man called ‘Ivan’. Raising his pistol back up, he fired again. And again. And again, until his pistol gave an empty ‘click’. In his disorientated state, all four of his comrades dead, and headache pounding from his dive, he overlooked a fairly vital point.

There was no blood.

Giving a pained cry, the monster leapt back up and latched at his throat. Gasping for breath, the monster dragged him by the neck, and thrust him against the building’s concrete wall, letting go of his neck, leaving him to wheeze for breath.
“Man, that was slightly painful,” the monster laughed. Jean looked up at the figure towering over him. There were indeed bullet holes through his shirt. But there was no flowing red. He couldn’t actually see if it did any damage at all. “Slightly, of course.” He knelt down to eye level, and gave him a smile.

“But you see, us immortals are so very difficult to kill. Annoying, isn’t it? Twelve or so good shots off, and no pay off? I feel for you, I really do.” He gave an even bigger smile. “No really, I do. Don’t look at me like that. Think I can’t sympathize with the plight of a minor character? Little characterization, minimal depth, no development. Merely cannon fodder for the much more important characters, an unwitting instigator whose sole purpose is to move the plot forward, and then promptly leave. How depressing that would be! What a sad existence. But worry not!” he put his hand into a fist and rose it into the air, as if proclaiming something of massive importance. “I shall save you from this tragic plot convention, and make you a larger role, unlike your comrades.”

With a flick of his wrist, the man shot him in the knee. Searing hot pain coursed through his entire being as his kneecap shattered, blood pouring out, his scream echoing out through the desert. It only intensified when his other knee shared the same fate.

“Oh dear,” the monster said, almost politely, "might want to get that patched up, wouldn’t we?” He actually threw him a roll of bandages, landing right beside him. “But before that, listen up.” The monsters grabbed his jaw, and looked right at his eyes. “You might know me as a different name, like Clifton, Devin, Ivan, Roger or even fucking Rudolph. My name is Aeron Carpio, okay? And if a small group of people pass by this way, make sure to tell them I did this. And the whole ‘immortality’ thing, if you’re up to it, that is.” He got up to his feet, and pointed to the bandages. “Might want to get to that, wouldn’t want to bleed to death, would we? See ya’, buddy.”

--------------------

“Where’s our stuff?” she asked in an excited, but nearly polite voice, into the face of a raider near death. Her pistol was shoved through a bullet hole in her shoulder, and other arm was tightly clutched around around her neck. She pushed the pistol in deeper and deeper for every millisecond that she didn’t answer. Melodee had managed to grab the woman as she charged around the debris with a pool pole -- and they needed information. “Come ooon, answeeer! Pleeease?” The raider gargled and gasped for breath. “I swear I won’t kill you! Pleeea—“ she realised that she had her hand around her neck, and was squeezing down incredibly hard. “Whoops! Sorry!” she giggled as she released her grip.

“T-the b-big t-tent,” she managed to get out, and wheezed for breath, blood oozing down her front, she was completely unarmed and incapacitated, as she had already shot her in the knee. Both knees, in fact.

“Thanks!” she exclaimed gratefully before executing her, a single bullet through her skull. “Alrighty, the big tent!” It was quite obvious what tent she was talking about.

Karl's advice was sound; as much as Maria could regenerate from injury, she wasn't invincible, and getting shot still wasn't very much fun. She followed Karl as he chucked a grenade back through the hole, the screams of dying raiders after the explosion filling the camp.

Melodee had somehow captured one of them, and gave a quick, impromptu interrogation, asking where to find their stuff. Of course, this didn't happen in a vacuum, and more raiders were coming out of the fucking woodwork.

Maria shot at another raider that had come out of a tent, killing the man in two rapid shots through the chest. Another one started charging at her with a tire iron, and Maria pulled out her knife with her right hand, which had partially healed by this point. She sidestepped the raider, and hooked her ankle around his, sending him crashing to the ground, for a quick coup de grâce shot to the man's head.

Maria was aware of nothing sans the battle at the moment, the adrenaline acting as blinders against anything less important as well as making time seemingly slow down. She felt a shot hit her in the left thigh, and turned to see a female raider trying to reload a hunting rifle. She ignored the pain and charged at her, jamming her knife into the raider's neck, before aiming and firing quickly at another raider, charging from around the corner.

Through the red fog shrouding her thoughts, however, she heard Melodee shout about a big tent, and quickly spotted what she was referring to. She sprinted as fast as she could for the tent, and entered it right behind her other two companions.

Time seemed to return to normal, and Maria suddenly felt a wave of pain. The brief respite from battle caused the adrenaline to stop, and all of her injuries to become very painful. She looked down and saw she had more than she thought; she must've been shot more than she noticed. Several bullet holes littered her torso, mostly on her (charred) right side, and her vision was swimming from exhaustion and blood loss, as well as the adrenaline crash.

She quickly sorted through the stuff in the tent, and reacquired her .32 revolver and ammo, messenger bag, and also stole some 9mm ammo for her handgun.

She also nabbed some bandages, and set to haphazardly and speedily bandaging her self, right over her clothing. It wasn't the best, but she didn't have time to worry about accuracy before raiders came in or she bled to death. Within a minute she had mummified most of her torso and right leg. She was covered in blood as well, some of it hers, and some of it theirs. It coated her face and body, a red layer over top her clothes.

Her head continued to swim; she had never sustained this much damage before. She hoped that they would get out of there soon, before she took too much. She probably should've taken Karl's advice, but it was a bit late now.

Karl was amazed at the tenacity of their companion, Maria. She'd taken multiple wounds, yet was still standing and able to fight. She even had some serious gunshot wounds, but hell, she was a fighter. He supposed adrenaline was a major factor to her ability. And the mysterious regenerative abilities she possessed. Still, she could handle herself. He was right next to Melodee as she interrogated one of the raiders that had been wounded. Their stuff was in some big tent, and it was easy to find.

He watched as Maria made her way over to him and Mel, silently applauding her ability to fight. Still, no time for that. He and his companions entered the tent, coming across a major cache of weapons, ammo, and other assorted equipment for fighting. Jesus Christ, it was the mother load! He wondered how many people the raiders had to have killed to arm themselves with this much heat. Still, no reason to complain, this would all go to their benefit. Still, Karl knew if they managed to kill all the raiders in the compound then they would have to go over the stockpile to the fullest extent. There was no count on how much all of this stuff was worth.

He grinned as he found his shotgun. The Pre-War Riot Shotgun was still in high condition, and it seemed almost as if it was made for his hands. He grabbed the few drums of ammo he had and loaded them up. He even found some special ammo, bullets with different tips that had special effects. Red was incendiary. Blue was good for robots, no need for those, though. White was a kind he liked a lot. Some kind of shrapnel specialty round that burst apart inside somebody. Ripped up insides like nothing else. There was also mini-explosive rounds. Still, the ammo deteriorated weapons quickly. He spotted a beauty among the piss weapons, a Colt Revolver, very well made. He strapped it into his holster and loaded up on ammo.

He looked towards Maria, who was bandaged up like some kind of mummy. He grabbed one of the medical kits off a while and took out a stimulant hypo. Good things, these stims, they stimulated regenerative growth, even regenerating bone structure if you got enough in you. like their title might suggest. He grabbed her arm, not even bothering to ask, and stuck the needle in there. "Don't even try complaining, ya big baby. S'just a little needle. You're beat up more than any of us. And there's more of these here for all of us." He grinned and gave one to himself and Mel, making sure she got one of the higher strength ones. "I don't want any smack from you either, Mel." He stood up, reinvigorated, and any injuries on him quickly knitting themselves shut.

"Why don't y'all say we get th' hell outta dodge? Ah'm sure our guests won't mind, as long as we leave them a present," he said, pointing to a small stack of C4. Explosives like this would suit the job.

"Come on, ya fokken prawns, and we won't riddle ya with holes! We'll just beat ya close to death and make you our slaves! Yeh got two choices!"

Karl grinned. They weren't going to make it easy on them. He stood next to the main door to the tent and loaded up one of his drums. "Ah say we take option C. Beat the snot out of them," he said, badass-ness coming off of him in waves.

He kicked the door open and opened fire.

There had to be at least thirty of them out there.

Bullets wizzed past his head as he charged forwards, his shotgun roaring out as it fired as fast as an automatic shotgun could go. He felt the blunt pain as bullets hit his armor, they hurt, and would surely give him a bruise, but none of them penetrated. Guts and gore sprayed out whenever a slug hit any of the raiders, the shrapnel ripping their insides to shreds as Karl kept on firing. He finally reached a bit of cover and sat the hell down behind it, bullets impacting near his position. He reloaded, jamming in a new magazine as he yelled out, "Covering fire!"

Giving a massive grin upon entering the tent, Melodee's eyes widened as if she was a child in a candy store. A candy store filled with various armaments and tools of destruction. Minus the candy. And the store.

Releasing the empty pistol magazine to the ground, she spun her head around trying to find her precious, precious axe, and nearly squealed in delight upon seeing it propped up against the side of the tent. Grabbing that, and her sawn-off shotgun, and filled her pockets with shotgun shells and pistol magazines, all the while whistling cheerfully. And a few grenades, can't forget those. After that, apparently Karl had some injections to give them, and upon him asking, instantly held out her arm. A wave of relief coursed through her, most of her strength returning to her. Although she didn't really quite get what he meant by giving Karl 'smack'. Did he think she was going to hit him, or something? Or was that just another of those weird sayings that people said?

There were many times wherein Melodee was told that her outlook on things were... 'wrong'. At the hospital, she was constantly scolded for talking about her rather violent opinions and methods of going about things. For some reason, it was something that had to be 'fixed', or 'cured'. A socially unacceptable behavior that was apparently bizarre, and even frightening to many. That was what she was told.

Why?

Her outlook was right! What was wrong about the situation they were in?

Fucking nothing.

Ripping her axe into the back of the tent, she opened up a reasonable sized hole and leapt through. The 'big tent' was actually something along the edges of the camp, and through sheer luck, actually managed to find two raiders who thought it smart to try and sneak around for a flank attack. Melodee saw them trying to along the side of the tent, and managed to properly get out of the tent as one them noticed her presence. As the raider's eyes began to widen as a single bullet collided with his throat, in which he dropped his rifle and grasped at the spurting fountain of blood exiting from his neck, falling to his knees. The second noticed a second too late, but began charging her instantly as the other raider fell, acting solely on instinct.

She aimed the gun down and fired. The raider's legs gave out as part of his shin shattered, and fell forward. In an instant, she darted forth and grabbed him by the throat, shoving him back slightly upright as her arm gripped him tightly around the neck, cutting off any oxygen. Dragging him around the corner of the tent into the sight of the rest of the raiders, he managed the strength to bring his arms up try and resist. Into which she responded by using her pistol arm to fire another bullet into his uninjured knee. Trying to cry out in pain but unable, his resistance faltered. Now in the full sight of the raiders, she fired out at the open raiders, drawing some attention away from Karl. Bullets instantly came their way, and collided into the raider, and more importantly, his armour. As bullets barraged into the man, she hid behind him -- making sure to keep him lowered so nobody hit her in the legs. She giggled as someone managed to get a headshot on their own raider, showering her in blood, brain and skull. Not that she minded, not even when a bullet painfully grazed the arm around his neck.

The idea hadn't been to actually do much damage from behind the raider -- rather, it was to get a better idea of the area and where everyone was. Pulling back the armoured piece of meat behind the tent, as bullets still flew straight through the tent at where they thought she had moved to. She holstered her pistol into her pants and grabbed at the grenades in her pocket -- it was a big pocket. Mentally picturing where every raider was and where Karl was, she dumped the meat to the ground, pulled the pin and chucked it over the big tent. She got another. Pulled the pin. Chucked. She repeated this another two times, and as the second one was being thrown, she abandoned all caution and ran out from the side of the tent, wildly firing with her pistol and using the confusion the explosions brought. She cackled and giggled at the sight of the dismembered raiders she managed to hit, and dove into cover.

"Heeey, Kaaarl!" she shouted enthusiastically over the gunfire, and downright euphorically as adrenaline rushed through her. "Why can't we do this more often?!"

The other two seemed content to charge into battle as fast as they could, though at least Melodee was taking a circuitous route. Was their plan to just murder every single raider in this compound? They were insane!

On the other hand, they were already halfway done with that, it seemed. And, hey, Maria admitted the adrenaline was kind of invigorating, even if she had a pretty good chance of dying. She wasn't sure if she was ready for a last stand, but she wasn't about to run away with her companions here, intent on blood.

Maria grabbed a hunting rifle, quickly attached a scope to the top, and loaded it. While she was doing so, she heard Melodee giggle, followed by some explosions outside. She must've found the grenades.

Maria left the tent through the front door that Karl had politely kicked open to see a bloodbath. Dead raider giblets lay everywhere. And yet, there were still a few raiders behind cover, shooting at Karl who was somehow a decent distance away from the tent. Did he really charge through that many?

Maria ran the opposite way, only catching the attention of one raider with poor aim, as the rest were focused on Karl. She found a metal crate, and vaulted over it, feet first into an unfortunate raider hiding behind it. She quickly shoot him, to keep him down, before peeking out over the crate and seeing a few raiders she had a clear shot on.

Bam! Blood spurted out of his neck. And then another one lost part of his brain.

Maria had to duck down, since she attracted the fire of one with a machine gun. "Pinned down!" she shouted over the madness, hoping someone heard her.

"Heeey, Kaaarl! Why can't we do this more often?!" Of course, her voice would be the one accompanying the explosions. That was Mel for ya.

Karl's grin went ever the wider as he tucked behind cover, bullets grazing over his head. Salty, red blood dripped down into his eye, making it hard to see in his left. A bullet had wizzed past him, managing a grazing blow, and he could feel the sharp bite of multiple bullets that had punctured his Duster's thick riot armor plating in a few unarmored places. He counted four. It all stung like hell, but if he could manage hellfire from the gods, he could manage a few bullet wounds.

He shook his head as he tended to a jam. When in doubt, you always have to give your woman a little strength, and that was what the automatic shotgun needed. His ears still rung from the noise of the explosions as he yelled out, "We don't do this often because I'd rather not get all of us killed! We're too lucky for our own good, damn it!"

He jumped out of cover, his shotgun roaring like a dragon as it kept on its assault. Most of the raiders littered the ground as corpses. Still, he didn't notice the glint of a scope atop one of the ruined buildings. The harsh Krr-krack! of a rifle let out, and he gasped as it hit him in the chest. He stumbled for a bit, but managed to keep his footing as he ran towards a building. Karl ducked behind cover as he heard the sound of a heavy machine gun firing, and Maria's voice accompanying it. He peered out, his keen eye scanning the battle ground. She had gotten her own hunting rifle and a scope and was managing to take out enemies from far away. But, she had given herself too much attention, even though Karl was the obvious center.

There, that was it. One of the ugly bandits had managed to set up a broken-ass machine gun that rattled like an old vacuum cleaner. Hell, he even saw duck tape holding the damn thing together! Karl grabbed one of the small blocks of C4 that he had acquired and stepped back.

He threw it like a baseball, winding up a pitch as he threw the brick, it landing a foot away from the gunner, he grabbed a detonator and clicked it, the resulting explosion destroying both the man and the weapon. "Hah-hah! Home Run!" Still, his victory wasn't long lived as the pain from the sniper round hit him in full through the adrenaline. He collapsed next to the building, grunting as he tried to force the pain away.

"Gah! Motherfuckers think this will stop me?!" He stumbled up, barely managing to keep his shotgun steady. Plenty of explosive rounds, all for them.

Blood, lots of it, along with gore and viscera filled the air as the three of them managed to kill Fourty-three raiders.

Karl looked around as the noise finally settled. Where the fuck were more of those bastards?! He needed to kill more! It was his job! He dropped the shotgun haphazardly, its shells were spent. He sat down next to some rubble, letting out a shudder as the adrenaline slowly left his mind and body. "Mel! We got 'em all! Fuck yeah! Jesus, that was a helluva fight. Why don't we do that more often? Damn et... ah wanna keel some more." He laughed and shrugged off the duster, riddled with bullet holes, and exposed his chest, also riddled with bullet holes. Blood soaked the dirty white tee that he wore. He wiped the sweat, blood, and other unmentionables off his face as he rested for a moment.

"Oh yeah... can some one get me a medkit?" he said, passing out.

Ears ringing, face grinning and blood flowing, it was the pinnacle of a perfect afternoon for her. Or was it evening? Morning? She didn't quite know anymore. Unable to restrain even the slightest bit of laughter, she absent-mindedly reloaded her pistol, as her cackles of euphoria raced through her body. Every ring as a bullet collided with her metallic cover brought only elation, and in the back of her mind, heard a familiar voice yell at how they were pinned down. Feeling a strange wave of indestructibility, she peered around, pot shooting at random raiders as she saw Maria pinned down by rifle fire. She instantly fired at the attackers, but the adrenaline skewed her vision, the ringing in her ears distracting her, making the bullet only fly right along by the raiders. This spurred them to duck back down into cover, and instead carefully took shots out to both her and Maria.

Melodee took a deep breath as she ducked back down as well. This was only very temporary. Grabbing the top of metal cover, a single thought rushed through her mind. It was a over-powering thought, one that seemed perfectly acceptable, and almost commonplace to have. The thought that she literally could not die. Launching herself over the cover, she rapidly fired the pistol at the cover, making the raiders duck back down. Running and firing at the same time, she neared closer to their cover -- and was, as a consequence, wide out in the open. A raider quickly popped over the barrel of a rifle over there cover, spurring Melodee to drop down and roll out the way, all the while peppering the raider's cover with pistol fire. Her gun clicked empty as she was about a meter away, Melodee instantly dropping it and grabbing her axe tucked into her trousers, and leaped at the closest raider. His eyes widened in near disbelief at the small girl with the look of a cat who had just saw a ball of yarn, and couldn't raise his machine gun in time before an axe collided with his neck.

There were three of them behind the cover, and Melodee had decided to attack the one straight in the middle. The strategic improbabilities or suicidal nature of her attack went completely over her head. Acting on instinct, she left the axe in the raider's neck and lunged for the machine gun. Twisting the dying raider in her arms to aim the weapon directly behind her, all she had to do was latch his fingers more around the trigger. She giggled at the recoil and reverberations from the weapon as the raider behind her fell, Melodee having not even looked at the raider once.

It was when she tried to take down the last one, did things go wrong. Dropping the now dead raider with the machine gun to the ground, she planned on leaping towards the last one’s neck – a fairly large and muscular man. A single shot fired. Her breath escaped her throat – and she found she couldn’t get it back. Pain shot through her side as she leapt forward anyways, grabbing the raiders arm, she bared her teeth and bit down as hard as she could. She didn’t last two seconds before the raider bashed her over the head with his free arm. Her vision blurred as her grip faltered, letting the last one push her off. Another shot. More searing hot pain shot through her, and a new stream of blood poured from her gut. Kneeling down on the ground, her hands desperately grasped at the wounds, the sheer shock rendering her unable to do anything else, or to even think of doing anything else. She vaguely understood that the pistol was at her forehead, and that in mere milliseconds, she would be dead. She didn’t have much time to really process that. But she did manage to think one thing.

That her dying was completely fine.

Yet no bullet came, peering up at the raider, she saw that he was gone. Running, in fact, away from where a hailstorm of shotgun shells were being fired off in the distance, and off to the road. She didn’t quite understand why, nor did she really care.

She realised she couldn’t breathe. No matter how much she tried to draw breath, nothing came. She collapsed to the ground on all fours, and heaved up blood to the dirt, desperately trying to get air.

She blacked out several seconds later.

The machine-gunner dealt with, Maria peeked over to take a few more shots off. She saw - barely, through all the fighting she was doing - Mel go on a suicidal charge towards a few entrenched raiders Maria couldn't reach herself. She didn't get to watch the outcome, though, as she was busy picking off raiders herself.

A shot to her shoulder knocked her back. She stayed on her back for a few moments, but noticed that it had gone silent shortly after. She peeked out over her crate and saw the area devoid of any more hostiles. Had they really done it?

They had! Maria's celebration was short-lived, however, when she saw Karl mumble something about a medkit before collapsing, and Mel was nowhere to be seen. Maria quickly ran out towards where she last saw Mel - where she did her bonzai rush - and saw her unconcious as well.

The brief thought that, perhaps, it was fortunate that Maria was the last one concious since she probably had the best grasp on first aid didn't bring her very much comfort. She quickly decided to start working on Mel first, since of her two patients, she wasn't breathing. A quick look-over saw that she had taken a few bullets, but none pierced her lungs. Must've stopped breathing from the pain alone.

Maria injected a sedative into her, both to slow her heart rate - and thus, the bleeding - and to calm her down, but not a strong enough one that would keep her unconscious. As Maria was bandaging her wounds as fast as she could, she noticed Mel started breathing again. She breathed a sigh of relief, but quickly darted over to Karl.

Karl had several more bullet wounds, and Maria quickly mummified him in bandages as well as given him a sedative. This was as much as she could do for the two, aside from applying pressure to their wounds (which was near impossible due to the sheer volume of them all), so Maria resigned herself to sitting on a nearby tire and worrying at them, hoping her sheer distress could wake them up soon enough.

Karl gasped as he awoke. The smell of blood and the stench of death seemed to fill the room. Was that his blood? He looked down, noting the mummification that was his chest. They were outside, it seemed. The warm rays of the wasteland sun were quickly setting upon the horizon. He spat out a glob of blood, wincing as he sat up suddenly. Looking around, he noted the many, MANY bodies that surrounded him and his companions. He also noted Maria, who was probably the only one of them that hadn't jumped into battle with an eagerness close to that of Mars, the god of war. He grunted as he noticed Maria's stare. Of course, she had been the one that had patched them up. He shook his head, trying to get past the woozy aura that surrounded him.

He didn't have his armor on. That needed to change. He quickly put on his shirt, strapped up the plates of metal that went under his duster coat, and grabbed his hat, placing it atop his own head, making sure to dust it first. "Ah gotta tank'ee, little miss. We woulda bled t' death without 'yer help, Maria." He let out a sigh and gave a glance to Mel. Jesus, she was wrapped in bandages even more than he was.

He stumbled over to her, kneeling beside her tiny form. He went and grabbed his pack and placed it under her head, as a pillow. It wasn't much, but he did what he could. He softly smoothed her chestnut hair, a look of adoration on his face. She was the closest thing he had to family in this hellish world. Did he even dare compare her to a daughter? He cursed himself, seeing the wounds made his heart skip a beat. "Ah try'n tell 'er not to be so reckless like Ah am, but she never listens." His soft look turned into a grin. "Damn girl. Stubborn as a mule, like me. 'Oh, armor is just too heavy and restricting! I can't cut throats while buried underneath a mound of steel!'" he mimed, his voice going high and cheery. "Don't'even kno' why Ah try." He turned back to Maria. "'course, you ain't much more 'an a child yerself, Maria. How old are you, girl? Ah, nevermind. Ah don't wanna be too much of a prude."

He got up, stretching his limbs, much to the protest of his chest. He pulled out a bottle of pills, pain-killers, and popped two of the tablets into his mouth, swallowing it dry. Speaking of water, he mouth was as parch as a Raiders' puckered asshole. He went to his pack, being sure not to stir Mel, and grabbed a canteen and a package of snack cakes. He poured a healthy amount down his gullet and ripped open the package. "Ah 'ope Mel won't mind if Ah eat one'a'er cakes. Gots me a sweet tooth."