Cherlynn Hearth: Wasteland Detective #2 (Part 1)

THE CASE OF THE RIVETING REPLICANT (Part 1)

Cher had gotten a decidedly shady looking fedora from Moira Brown as part of finishing that book they wrote together. She set out through the post-modern wilderness of the urban jungle, dishing two-fisted justice through the end of a chrome plated barrel as she made the mean streets safe for.. well, no one, really.

Rivet City sat like a broken dream on the faintly glowing sludge they called the Potamic River. Cherry Heart stood with her hands in her coat pockets while she looked the rusted wreck over from one end to the other. That was her first mistake.

Mooks from an outfit calling themselves Talon Company snuck up on her and drew down. Turns out there was a bigwig back in the Waste who was less than thrilled about some kid in a fancy coat making noise and sticking her do-gooder nose in places it wasn't wanted.

Cherry shrugged and made a gesture entirely unfitting for a lady. She kicked a rusty tin can up and at the face of the head goon, using the motion to roll down the stairs to the old subway system behind her. Turns out that rolling down ancient concrete steps is pretty hard on a gal's ribcage.

Ignoring the cracks that made breathing into an exercise in seeing through flashes of bright hot pain, she drew her custom piece and fired at the first thing that showed its head at the top of the stairs. She was never sure after if it was luck or reflexes that put the hollowpoint between the man's eyes.

The other two peppered her hiding place with high caliber automatic fire. The rusted out trash barrel took most of the hits before shredding, leaving her cracked ribs to play welcome wagon to the slug that had moved into the corner lot in the neighbourhood of her shoulder.

She emptied the chamber at the one with the fancy tommy gun, managing to return the favour by embedding hot lead in his hand. When he dropped the weapon, she used the opening to charge him, clocking him across the face with the butt of her gun. He crumpled with a nasty wet crunch from his nose.

The last one had retreated to the parking lot full of ancient cars. Cherry scooped up the rifle and fired wildly, her shoulder and ribs helping make the shots go wide. When she woke up, she realized that she had no memory of the previous little while. The wrecks of the old cars were burning, some having been flung halfway across the river. There was no sign of the Talon.

Cherry rubbed her head, wincing as it came away wet with blood. She got unsteadily to her feet, muttering under her breath. “Why did they bother with seat belts?” She was too sore and tired to be surprised as her hat blew past her and alighted on the landing above. Tucking it away, Cherlynn Hearth staggered up the ramp to Rivet City.


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(This is where  my Fallout 3 died and took my save games with it. Everything past this point is fiction, pure and simple, based on Fallout 3, but all in my head. :D )