It was a bitter burning sensation that tickled her lips as Elizabeth sat silently in near empty saloon of the Canterbury Commons. Elizabeth had just crawled out of her temporary accommodation in the piece of shit building after an extremely long, alcohol fuelled evening and her head was still splitting from a hangover the size of a small country. She yawned loudly, as she rubbed the sleep from her unusual eyes and returned her attention to the amber liquid that lined the tumbler in front of her. The single toothed suspicious bartender had claimed it was a whisky, although Elizabeth thought it tasted like charcoal and lemon. Raising the glass to her lips, she took a second sip and savoured the flavour in her mouth for a few moments, before swallowing the disgusting concoction and shivering.
“Well… at least it’s alcoholic right?”
She asked to no one in particular, as she returned her gaze to the glass on the dusty wooden table.
Suddenly there was noise outside the saloon; someone was shouting. ‘Fuck… what now?’ she thought to herself. In the forty-eight hours since Elizabeth had arrived in this pathetic excuse of a trading post she had decided that she hated travelling. If she had her way, she would have remained in Rivet City where she was making a decent living fixing wounds and selling a few ‘uppers’ on the side. She had been specifically hired to come along by a Trader named Michael Donohue, who had insisted that her skills would be invaluable in the field. Michael had extremely deep pockets and was offering a sizeable bag of caps, which made the decision a whole lot easier for Elizabeth. Still… looking back on the two weeks it had taken her to walk all the way to this desolate hellhole of a town; Elizabeth was beginning to regret her decision. At least Rivet City had flowing waters and reasonably comfortable beds.

The door to the saloon burst open, and a dark skin Caravan guard armed with a long-barrelled lever-action rifle rushed into the dusty bar. Elizabeth recognised the man immediately as a man called Bourke who was part of her entourage. He made a b-line straight for Elizabeth and grabbed her firmly by the hand.
“You are needed. A guard has been shot”
Elizabeth sighed heavily and looked down at the nightgown that was tied tightly around her petite frame.
“I don’t suppose this can wait until after I change?”
She asked with a voice of extreme distaste. She knew the answer already, but she was in no mood to be rushed today. Without waiting for the man to respond she lifted the glass from the table and drained the amber liquid from the glass in one smooth movement. When she had finished, she let the glass fall back to the table with a clatter, and she rose to her feet, grabbing the small first aid kit that she carried everywhere with her as she did.
“Well chauffeur if you would like to lead the way then?”
she shot viciously at the guard, her eyes fixed coldly on his hand which continued to grip her boney wrist and hand.

Within a few moments, Elizabeth had been dragged from the cool, dark bar into the scorching sun of the Capital Wasteland and was being pulled down a street towards a small gathering of people.
“Great… And I am so well dressed for the occasion.”
She muttered under her breath, her tone cold and bitter. Like the sea, the crowd parted for the two companions and Elizabeth was in front of the wounded man. Elizabeth could hear the muttering of the crowd around her. She chose to ignore the wolf whistle of an older balding man to her left, and the muttering of a local farming woman who was questioning how on earth Elizabeth could be ‘old enough to be a Doctor.’
With a slight reddish hue to her face, that Elizabeth wished she could brush off as side effects of the alcohol she knelt beside the injured man and rummaged through her to withdraw a pair of glasses which she placed delicately onto the bridge of her nose. Elizabeth drew a hunting knife from the bag and looked around the crowd for a moment before they found Cassius. She stared absentmindedly at the caravan guard of whom she had never met for a few moments before forcing her daydreaming mind back into the present and returning her gaze to the blood-soaked chest of the stranger. With two swift movements, Elizabeth cut open the man’s faded old duster and was able to look clearly at the wound area.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but stare into the face of the stranger who stood in the crowd one last time before she turned her attention to the wounded man at her feet. She wasn’t sure why she found herself intrigued by the man, or why he had peeked her curiosity, but it didn’t matter. After a few awkward moments, Elizabeth turned her attention to the man and she carefully peeled back the reminisce of his shirt. She frowned as the wound was revealed and she could see the extent of the damage that had been dealt to the poor bastard. Although the entry wound itself was small and made of what looked like a small calibre firearm, Elizabeth had seen this wound countless times before. It had punctured through the abdomen and perforated the colon. It was an agonising injury, but what was worse was that Elizabeth knew an infection like Staphylococcus would spread quickly through the body, and there simply weren’t enough antibiotics left on the planet that could fight such an infection. It would be a slow, and extremely painful death. Without a second thought, Elizabeth unclipped her bag and drew two large syringes filled with a green liquid – stim packs. She inspected them carefully to ensure the colour of the liquid was correct and that they were unbroken before she thrust the needles firmly into the shoulder of the man. It was a massive waste of her precious homemade stim-packs, but at least this would be a significantly more painless death. After all, an overdose of painkillers was one of the least cruel ways to go in the wasteland. Elizabeth ran a blood covered hand across the cheek of the man who lay on the ground, and she spoke gently. From what little Elizabeth had read about doctors in the old world, this kind of behaviour would be unthinkable, against the code “Do no harm” that permeated the fundamentals of all medical textbooks she had ever read. This wasn’t the old world, and Elizabeth knew she was making the right decision.

The seconds dragged by as the small gathering surrounding the man watched on. Elizabeth spoke in a voice quiet enough that only the dying man could hear. Her words weren’t exactly kind, hell Elizabeth hardly said a kind word these days, but she knew it was comforting to hear a calm voice at the end. She only hoped the same would happen to her when she passed. The seconds dragged into minutes however eventually the man became still. After a few moments of staring at the man, she reached forward and closed his glazed eyes and rose calmly to her feet. She scanned the crowd and found the man her eyes had fell upon earlier talking to someone else. It wasn’t hard to see what was being discussed even without hearing it. No doubt a bounty was being placed on whoever, or whatever had killed this man.
Picking up her bag Elizabeth stepped forward and walked directly to the men, her thin silk nightgown rustling slightly in the breeze as she walked. She pushed her way forcefully through the onlookers until she stood almost between the two. Whatever emotion she was giving once before was now completely gone, replaced with her personalised icy gaze as she appraised the two men a little more seriously.
“I am coming with you.”
Elizabeth said, her voice calm, clear and yet with a finality that dared the stranger to argue the point with her. Why she was so desperate to risk her neck was beyond Elizabeth, to an outsider it may seem that Elizabeth was so saddened by the death of the stranger that she felt compelled to action, but that wasn’t it. The best she could assume was that she had become so bored by being cooped up in this hellhole that she was desperate for some action.

“Meet me out the front of the saloon in fifteen minutes, I need to change and wash this filth off me”
She continued holding her blood soaked hands into the air before turning on her heels and disappearing through the thinning crowd to collect her armour and weapons.

Elizabeth’s step hastened as she disappeared down the street towards the Saloon. As she moved, the young Doctor thought carefully about exactly what she planned to bring. Elizabeth didn’t even bother to look up when she shoulder barged a raggedly dressed old man who was stumbling from the saloon as she entered. Instead, she hurried up the stairwell into the dingy old room that was her own, threw open her trunk and pulled out her dad’s old combat armour and lab coat. It took Elizabeth less than 10 minutes to pack her travelling rucksack, change and double check her 10mm pistol was stocked with plenty of ammunition. When she was satisfied, Elizabeth was wearing the long faded lab coat that she donned with pride. She also wore a tattered old suit of combat armour she had been given by her father many years ago. Her hair was out of her face and pulled tightly back into a power bun, and her 10mm pistol was strapped tightly to her thigh.

Elizabeth stood silently against the wall of the Saloon, a bottle of clear looking moonshine glistened in each hand as she waited. The stranger was later than she had expected him to be, and for a moment Elizabeth feared he had disappeared without her. A small twinge of anger flooded through her body as she stood. If there was one thing Elizabeth couldn’t stand it was people who weren’t punctual.

After a few moments of awkwardly waiting against the Saloon door, Elizabeth smiled hearing the footsteps that signified the stranger's return. She turned and looked at him closely for the first time since she had spotted him through the crowd. Although she had noticed the strangers very rough appearance, particularly those deep set scars. A moment's hesitation crossed through her brain as she stared at him, although she did her best not to let it show through on her tightly controlled features. Elizabeth couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on the hole in his left cheek, as she appraised him her eyes lingered on that familiar scar that indicated he had once been a slave. At one point in her rather short existence, Elizabeth had specialised in plastics, and the removal of such scars was highly sorted after. It seemed most people didn’t want to have the constant memories attached with the slave lifestyle. Elizabeth couldn’t blame them, after all, many of the stories she had heard were enough to sicken her to her core. Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder where the stranger hailed from.

She was surprised when the stranger held out the small calibre revolver for her to take. She stared at it for a moment; it was the first time someone had given her the weapon. Slowly, she reached forward and took the weapon into her hand, its icy cold metal a strangely comforting feeling. She flicked it open and checked it was loaded before closing it with an equal movement. In response, she held out a bottle of the moonshine she was carrying. Sure, it wasn’t a weapon, but it was the most expensive alcohol that this piss poor excuse for a town sold and it wasn’t that bad. As Elizabeth gave him the moonshine she flashed him a bright smile. In contrast to the gruff and heavily scarred man, Elizabeth must have seemed extremely strange, almost opposing. Unlike the man who’s upbringing was clearly drawn across his body, Elizabeth seemed the complete opposite. One could be easily mistaken into thinking that she had lived an extremely privileged life.

Without a word, Elizabeth watched as the stranger pulled his dusty cloak over his neck and gestured for her to follow. It seemed her new companion was a man of few words; that would make for some extremely boring walking. Silently she lifted her faded rucksack from beside her and pulled it onto her back. She checked the safety of the small revolver before holding it awkwardly into the waist strap of her pants. She followed behind him for a few moments as they headed towards the outskirts of the town, part of her was surprised that it was just the two of them heading off. Elizabeth had not travelled with a single companion for many years… not since she first left her home.
“Do you know who found him?”
She asked suddenly, moving at a trotting pace to keep up with the smooth strides of the stranger. Elizabeth positioned herself carefully so she remained just far enough back that she was following the stranger and that he would be unable to grab her if he suddenly tried to attack.
“I’m assuming they were bandits that attacked? The pistol looked like a very small calibre”
Elizabeth continued, watching the stranger intently as they crossed the threshold of the town walls.

Elizabeth followed the stranger as he walked, and smiled slightly watching as he uncapped the bottle and took a long swig. Although she was a little concerned about associating herself with a complete stranger, it made her a little more comfortable that he seemed to enjoy the alcohol. Hell, Elizabeth hadn’t met a single person who didn’t enjoy drinking. Slowly, Elizabeth felt her guard lowering and she let her eyes trail around the wasteland. Every time she travelled. She remembered the old world books in the ancient library of her family home and the old books that showed the beauty of the old world. As a child, she used to imagine a world of colour and life, with green trees like in the old photos. Part of her hoped that she would live to see the day that the world returned to that beautiful green that the old photos portrayed.Elizabeth’s wandering thoughts were dragged back to reality when she heard the gruff, slurred speech of the stranger. Elizabeth considered herself to be quite an observant person, yet she had only just realised that this voice had been unusual. Perhaps awkwardly, she didn’t listen to his voice when he spoke earlier on that day.

Was it surprising that the stranger's speech was impaired? A little perhaps, although considering the battle scars that the man touted, Elizabeth was also a little surprised that he was so understandable. She hesitated and concentrated carefully on his words. She wanted to avoid miscommunication as she knew that wasn’t a great way to create an impression. Elizabeth’s stomach dropped when the stranger suggested that perhaps it was slavers or mutants that had attacked the man. Slavers and slavery were one of those things that Elizabeth desperately wanted to avoid. Due to her skillset and charming personality, Elizabeth had always managed to avoid confrontation when she knew she was outmatched, but with slavers all of that meant shit. If anything, her unusual appearance and fairly unique skills would fetch quite the price. On the other hand, Elizabeth had been fortunate enough never to run into super mutants, but she had read a lot about them in the Wasteland Survival Guide. They were big, extremely strong and completely insane. She had heard stories of how they would rip humans to pieces, cook and eat them like food. Elizabeth shivered involuntarily at the thought and suddenly regretted her decision to come on this pointless escapade.
“A-are you sure?”
Elizabeth asked, unable to completely mask the sound of uncertainty and fear from her tone. Her hand had found her 10mm pistol and her eyes crossed the landscape carefully, looking for a movement like she expected that the duo was being led into a trap as they spoke. Elizabeth’s mind raced as she considered the man’s words. From a logic perspective, it seemed more likely to Elizabeth that this would be the work of a slaver. For one, it made sense. Kill a stranger to send a message, and if you’re lucky, others would come to investigate, suddenly instead of having one prisoner, you are likely to capture multiple. Also, those who you enslave are more likely to be handy with a weapon making them a much higher prize than a simple settler or farmer. The second reason Elizabeth was certain that it would be a slaver over a super mutant was that if it WAS a super mutant, Elizabeth significantly doubted he would have made it back to the town alive.

“I think this could be a trap”
Elizabeth voiced suddenly, slowly and carefully drawing the small pistol from her holster as she continued to examine the barren surroundings of the commonwealth.

The young blonde was surprised to hear the complete and total lack of concern from the man beside her as he highlighted they continued on their way. He seemed confident that the pair weren’t in any real danger. Easy for you to say, some of us don’t exactly want to end up as slaver playthings she thought to herself but she followed his direction and nodded silently. Elizabeth decided not to reply verbally. Instead, she drew her pistol and flicked the safety off. She crouched low to the ground and followed the man as he led her up towards high ground. A rather large part of Elizabeth hoped that there would be little to see over the ridge, maybe some mole rats or a herd of Brahmin or something similar. While Elizabeth was pretty lucky, she suspected this time wouldn’t be so. Elizabeth continued to remain a couple of steps behind, ensuring she followd the exact same tracks that the stranger stood in. If they were going to be tracked she figured she would confuse whoever was after them by suddenly having her tracks dissapear. That and given the gradual elevation and fairly poor crumbly footing, Elizabeth figured anywhere he stood would definitely hold her, she was certainly smaller and lighter than he.

As the two crossed the threshold of the elevated area, Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she struggled to comprehend the massacre that stood in the valley below them. In the small gulley below she saw the bodies of no less than six caravan guard, two Brahmin and a trader.All were stripped of any personal effects of value including armour, weapons and the carry bags on the brahmin were missing. The earth around the scene was painted crimson with dried blood. To her untrained eyes, it looked like a slaughter had occurred here. It was clear they had fallen for an extremely effective ambush. On the plus side, whoever had murdered these people seemed to have little interest in cooking and eating them which gave her a level of relief that this was indeed unlikely to be super mutants. What disgusted her the most about this scene was that the bodies were simply left where they fell, cut down and abandoned to rot under the scorching sun of the Commonwealth. Elizabeth wasn’t innocent; she had killed countless people in her struggle for survival in this cruel world. Hell, she had done things she wasn’t proud of to survive thus far. But to disrespect the dead so blatantly lit a fury into her very core.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment as she watched the man descend the small hill they had climbed and approached the scene with a surprising amount of detachment. Elizabeth watched him examine the scene, likely trying to recreate the scene in his head in an attempt to give them a better understanding of what exactly they were hunting. As she stood over him she felt a gentle breeze pick up behind her, the hot midday sun burnt harshly into her uncovered neck. Elizabeth remained resolute in her decision to follow the stranger into this battle, although she was extremely unsettled by what they had found thus far.

“What do you think?”
Elizabeth called down from above him, her hand still clutching her pistol firmly and her attention focussed on the scene below. It was only when she spoke that she realised just how quiet the scene was, no birds, no bugs, nothing just the echo of her voice.
She finally made up her mind and stepped forward to follow him down when a sudden clap of explosive thunder burst forth from somewhere behind her, followed by the dull thud of something small ricocheting off the earth below her feet. Elizabeth spun on the spot, recognising the unmistakable sound of gunfire. In her haste to see where the bullet had come from, Elizabeth had sacrificed her footing on the thin crumbly earth. Elizabeth didn’t even have time to comprehend what was happening as her footing gave way and she tumbled to the land below.