Chapter Text
Rory hummed happily around the cigarette that sat between her dry lips. It had been months since she left Vegas, with a haphazardly filled rucksack and her trusty rifle. Not forgetting her ass of a brother, Gryff, who followed her out in fear that she was going to do something stupid. She was doing something stupid, but that wasn't the point.
Twenty-two years old, fresh out of the military life that she had been accustomed to the past few years. If she had told her younger self that she'd ever end up following a caravan through the Capitol Wasteland, she'd definitely call her older, current self a lying jackass. The NCR was her life for so long, she'd never dreamt of leaving. She had so many plans – wanting to rise through the ranks and become a ranger. She was a pretty good sniper, almost good enough to join the 1st Recon she bet. But here she stood, under the shade of a building, smoking a crooked cigarette and looking over the cattle. She shrugged uncomfortably in her clothes – that of an NCR ranger that she was too wiry to fill out properly, causing it to hang over her long, thin frame.
The merchant, Rita, cleared her throat loudly as a way to grab the young trooper turned caravan guard's attention. Rory threw the rest of her cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. Such a waste. Rita gestured at her to come over, then pointed to a person walking towards them, either a possible customer or another thief. The person looked like a possible raider but definitely didn't have the demeanour. Dressed in what appeared to be a blue jumpsuit, an oversized black leather jacket, with a laser rifle strapped to their back. Their face was hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, and a red bandanna tied around their mouth. Their black hair thick and unruly, cut lopsidedly as if at one point it was partially shaved on one side.
Rory raised her gun, just enough to show that she's willing to fire if necessary. Gryff snorted, aiming it no doubt at the person's head. Rita sighed, loud enough for the twins, but quiet enough to be out of earshot for the raider lookalike. They were pretty cheap hires, only 40 caps for the two. They definitely should have charged more, due to their experience, however, there were no other offers and they were hungry. The three of them were desperate enough to make the deal work.
The person stopped a metre away from the trio(plus the Brahmin), putting their hands up placatingly. “You selling?” they asked, voice dry, raspy, and definitely female. Rita gave her a sharp nod . “got any MF cells or Med X?”
Rita walked over to the Brahmin, busying herself with scrounging through the chem and ammo bags that hung off the animal's body. Rory took the opportunity, as usual, to harass the customers.
“What's with the mask?”
The other woman looked surprised, “I'm sorry – what?”
“The mask, what's up with tha?” Gryff repeated, voice rumbling in annoyance.
The masked customer narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “what's it to you?”
“Jus' curious” shrugged Rory.
The customer tilted her head to one side, a look of confusion flashing behind her glasses. “If I answer, will you tell me what the fuck is up with your accent?”
Rory let out a laugh, quiet and breathy, but nevertheless a laugh. A grin still plastered on her face, she answered with a simple, “sure, why not”
“I'm an ugly sonofabitch with a lot of stuff to hide”
“Aight,” Rory nodded, “Well, fair's fair. I'm from California, right out West”
“Is the accent really that different out there?”
“I mean, not really? I don't think so. Never really paid attention.” she shrugged, not wanting to get into the fact that her accent was definitely, definitely not American and she couldn't explain why especially not to a stranger who probably doesn't know about the tribes out there.
By this time, Rita had fished out two syringes of Med-X, and a handful of Microfusion Cells for the customer. They exchanged caps, and that was almost the end of it. Almost.
“Hey – name's Rory” she blurted out before she stopped herself. She could hear Gryff mutter under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like 'useless lesbian'.
The stranger looked surprised or confused, or a mix of the two. Rory sucked in a sharp breath, ready to apologise for stepping out of line. “Flynn. Flynn Sawyer”
Rory grinned and Flynn only waved two fingers in a lazy salute as she turned away.
“Ey, you scared her away, champ.” laughed Gryff, “good going, record time too”
“You can't keep doing this Rudy.” sighed Rita.
“For fu-... For the hundredth time, it's Rory. Rory.”
“Aye, can you spell that?”
Rory opened her mouth to retort – because of course, she couldn't spell her own damn name and the older woman knew that – but the words caught in her throat.
“Didn't think so, kid. Alright you two, haul ass, we're heading to Megaton.”
It wasn't the first time she had stepped into the town, although this time she was conscious. The smell of frying food, cattle, and rust hit her like a shotgun shell. The sheer amount of people, of life, was almost enough to make her panic. She never did well with crowds. She hated feeling boxed in. That was probably the aftermath of being raised out in the open or the training she put herself through to be a sniper.
Her stomach growled angrily, sounding closer to a Yao-Guai than a human organ. She winced, trying to remember when the last time she ate a proper meal. The cigarettes and the Nuka Cola she consumed on a regular basis did a good job in killing her hunger. Her last meal had been the night before – half a can of vaguely cooked cram that she shared with her brother, and a packet of instamash she barely managed to get through. The powdery substance mixed with the grit of dirty water was enough to make her gag. Safe to say, she was not looking forward to another meal of that. Her body was begging for whatever the metal hut at the bottom of the hill – she vaguely recalled it being The Brass Lantern – was cooking. She would have killed for some mirelurk cakes and a beer right about then.
The sun had started to set, and the town's folk had started packing up wares or heading inside. No one would have been interested in slightly ripped clothing and the stale food they had left to sell. Rory was ready to beg Rita to be relieved of her duty as a guard for the night, but luckily it didn't come to that. Rita didn't enjoy being around the two young adults for longer than she had to. Between their bickering, and their good-natured competitive streak, she was ready to strangle the twins herself. She was an older woman, maybe fifty, with dull brown hair that held many grey streaks. Rory had never seen the woman with a clean face – she'd always be covered in dust, grease, or dried blood from their encounters – but the older woman didn't seem to mind. She definitely didn't have a maternal bone in her body, and she had threatened Rory to not have a kid while on her payroll. Not that that would have even been an issue, the young sniper had no interest and didn't want to bring another helpless kid into the brutal world she lived in.
As soon as the words “you can go” left Rita's mouth, Rory shot off in search of food. She dashed down the hill, almost tripping from momentum and over the wooden planks that sort of made up the stairs. She skidded to a halt at the bottom, scaring a few pedestrians who were minding their own business and getting on with their life up until that moment. She would have berated herself for looking like a complete idiot if she wasn't starving.
She slipped into one of the chairs at the bar and sending a smile towards the server – a young woman with brown hair who Rory had forgotten the name of.
Rory gave her order, leaning against the counter as she waited. The chair next to her was filled quickly, and she decided to avoid eye contact because what else as she supposed to do? Strike up a conversation?
“Hey Jenny!” they called out in a familiar rusty tone.
“Flynn!Hey!” the server – Jenny – greeted.
Flynn?The one from earlier? Small world, Rory thought as she took her beer from Jenny, taking a large swig. She glanced over at the woman next to her, and sure enough, it was the customer from earlier, already regarding her with a gleam in her eye.
“Fancy meeting you here. Cali, right?”
“Rory, but yeah” nodded Rory, running her hand over her long ginger hair in an attempt to take her thick, unruly locks. “What brings you here to Megaton, Flynn?”
“I live here, so it's not too uncommon for me to be here. Can ask you the same question.”
“Jus' passing through. Staying the night is all” Rory shrugged, to which Flynn nodded slowly, turning back towards the counter as Jenny passed her a drink. “Hey, you're not gonna drink tha through your mask now, right?”
“Would be a great show, but ultimately gross” laughed Flynn, sounding as melodic as a tin can chime, or a ripper being set off. She pulled down her mask and took a swig of her whiskey, revealing her face for the first time.
“Thought you said you were ugly”
“Did I say that?” Flynn's lips curled in a smirk, turning her attention to Rory yet again. With the bandanna gone, her scars were on full display. Three thin lines cut deep into her left cheek, narrowly missing her eye, and her jaw was mottled with angry red welts and dry, cracked skin. Looking at her as close as this Rory noticed Flynn's eyes for the first time – the brightest, purest green she's ever seen on a living person. “Don't really know what to tell ya, between this face and the status I have, I like to keep things on a low profile.”
Rory laughed, barely noticing when Jenny slid her plate over in front of her if it wasn't for the smell. Fresh Mirelurk cakes. “So, you're a cocky one” she stated between bites of food, “never even heard of you”.
“Luckily it's not attached to my name.”Flynn shrugged, taking another long swig. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, turning her attention to the suddenly very interesting counter. “You know that the water's actually pure around here? My dad started the project behind it.”Rory got the impression that the woman expected her to know about this, but nothing came to mind.
“Not to sound rude or anything, but I have no fuckin idea who you are”
Flynn hummed as she continued drinking, They sat in silence as Rory ate, and Flynn drank, which lead to them both drinking to cure the air between them. There was barely an inch left in Flynn's bottle when she finally stood up. “You wanna come back to mine?”
Rory choked on the remainder of her drink. “Fuck you're forward.”
Flynn rolled her eyes, “you want to or not? Not forcing you anywhere, Cali”
“Fuck it, why not”
Rory woke with a pounding in her skull and weight on her chest she couldn't shift. The light bleeding through the window caused her to groan and cover her face with her forearm. The weight on top of her shuffled and groaned. Ah shit, if it's another molerat I swear-. The thought was cut short when the weight above her spoke.
“Fuck – what time is it?”
“Hey – Flynn?”
“Yeah?”
“What the fuck” sighed Rory in disbelief. The two women finally opened their eyes to brave the morning light. Flynn sat up, rubbing her face and letting out a jaw cracking yawn. Rory looked up at Flynn, raising a stark white eyebrow that didn't match the most of her hair. “Would it kill you to cover up?”
“Could tell you the same thing” Flynn rolled her eyes, kneeling and leaning back, allowing Rory to stand ungracefully on shaky legs stiff with sleep.
The lanky ginger haphazardly pulled on her underwear and stiff khaki trousers, clicking her belt into place as she looked for her shirt in the mess of clothing strewn around the room.
“You got a shit ton of scars there, was going to mention yesterday but, y'know, we were busy with other stuff”
“Yeah? I live in the wasteland, I'm not sure what you're expecting here”.
“I get that – fuck, even in my short time out here I've picked up a few, but nothing like this.” Flynn pointed at an old wound on Rory's stomach, one that almost tore through a tattoo she had gotten when she was a teenager. The words “Calon Lan” that was etched in black a few inches under her rips were punctuated with a circular, pink scar from a bullet. “With my limited medical knowledge, that probably should have killed you”
“Almost did” Rory attempted to brush off any connection she had to her wound. Finally, she retrieved her white t-shirt from amongst the pile and unceremoniously tugged it over her thin frame.. “what I signed up for when I joined the military I guess. What about you? You've got some interesting ones.”
True to Rory's word, Flynn's pale skin was dotted with the same welts and dry, brown skin that lined her jaw. Her shoulders had the worst of it, the entirety was covered, slowly spreading down her collarbone before stopping abruptly. Flynn winced, “uh, yeah, I guess. They're uh...definitely something”
“You alright?”
“Yeah, it's just...none of this is common knowledge, I don't want this getting out, yeah?” said Flynn, worry in her eyes, “I'm going ghoul. Just a little so far, but it's happening. It's not contagious if you were going to ask. You'll be fine”
Rory nodded, pulling on her scuffed NCR breastplate, clicking it into place. “That's gotta suck.”
Flynn watched Rory tug on her jacket and comb her fingers through her long unruly hair, splotched with white much like the rest of her body. She hesitated before answering, seeming to debate the best answer, “...Yeah. Yeah, it really does.”
Rory flashed a sad smile towards the dark-haired woman who sat on the bed. “You uh, not gonna say something weird like I took your virginity or something now, right?” the tall ginger said in an attempt to lighten the mood before she had to go. She didn't want to leave Flynn on a sour note.
Flynn chuckled softly, seemingly grateful for the change in topic, “I was abducted by aliens at nineteen”
Rory blinked. Flynn grinned. The redhead nodded slowly to herself, “and on that note, I really need to get back to Rita before she skins me alive. I might see you around though?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Rory smiled, sending a small salute towards Flynn before turning and navigating her way through the small shack that Flynn called home. She pushed past the Mr Handy that floated at the bottom of the stairs and headed out into the bright, crisp outdoors.