Steel Rose, Welcome to the Capital Wasteland Options

[Silver]

Steel Rose

Tick. Wait... let the burning sensation fill your chest as your lungs ache for air. Tick. Steady, bring the lines of the crosshair down across thier chest. Tick. Hold perfectly still, and fire.

For that moment, the chatter of automatic weaponry, the crack of hunting rifles was silent, the thunderous report of a sniper rifle ringing in her ears, even as she brought her scope back down to see the raider raise his hands to the gaping wound in his ribs, dark arteriel blood bubbling onto his rough leather clothes. His knees gave out a moment later, leaving the mohawked bandit face down in his own blood. Another raider, running backwards and firing a ten millimeter pistol indescriminately tripped over the new cadaver, and Shadow promptly took his head off.

The heavy chop of blades echoed in the small valley as the first of three vertibirds came over the edge of the rocky cliffs. The whirr of it's gatling laser spurring up wasn't audible over the gunfire, but when the stiches of burning light etched the ground, the raiders scattered, a good few of them getting cut down, limbs tumbling into the dark recesses of the afternoon light. That left Shadow, and a few wasteland hunters, to face the Enclave soldiers that began to crop up over the enbankments.

The wastelanders scattered into the rocks, while Shadow who already had a vantage point that was quite like her namesake, only twisted around and fired a shot at the power-armoured soldiers who were skirmishing with the hunters, and winning. The Enclave troops were organized, trained, and armed with quality laser rifles, and they were trying to fight against them with hunting rifles, and a sniper. It really wasn't going to work out.

[Silver]

::...Quad.

...

Forced to abandon a few more of the heavier pieces as she was clambering up and onto the solid ground above, it was still a struggle. Her fingertips were strained as she pulled herself up along the rock face, putting her feet whereever there was a groove deep enough, it was real trouble to get up some parts, having to lift her foot up almost level to her head, to share a spot on where her hand was, in order to grab the next hold up and cling for dear life as she swung wildly from a twisted root that she managed to grasp. Swinging wildly dozens of feet above the valley floor, she was more terrified than when she was being shot at. At least when someone shot at you, it was about the skill of yourself against them, who could get the fatal hit in first, this? This was pure chance, could she manage to find a hold before the previous crumbled away? She murmured to herself quietly, pessimism was equally bad for your survival as daydreaming.

Still, she did get onto the ledge safely, though with a wince as she heard the tinkle of bottlecaps rolling away. Looking out across the blasted expanse of the wasteland, the shattered buildings, the smoke trailers in the sky marking where raiders made camp, the pervasive soft glow of the white sands. Some may fidn this to the a dreary apocolyptic world, but she knew that it was her world, a world to realize dreams. The deep bass of an explosion knocked her out of that fantasy, and from her feet. She ended up clinging to the edge of the cliff, grasping at a low branch with one hand, as someone approached, a silhouette against the bright sun.

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A really short update this time, feeling a bit discouraged, so I'm off to play a bit of Fallout for insperation.