FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

As it always seemed to be in the Winter Wasteland, it was snowing over the mountain as Veronica sat staring out the window, her feet on the table in front of her and a bottle of water in her hand. A deck of cards lay on the table by her leg, which she had been using to play Solitaire, but before long she grew bored. It had been some time since she had a job to do around Grousetown, and it was only a matter of time before the caps she'd saved from previous work ran out.

She needed something to do. But there seemed to be nothing that Marv or any of the other townsfolk needed from her or Grant. Well, maybe less so for Grant, as his medical expertise was always needed for something or another. Ron, however... what did she have to offer as a service? She knew how to clean and maintain guns, but that was nothing out here in the wasteland -every settlement had to have someone who could clean and maintain guns, or they wouldn't survive long. In Grousetown, that was the twins running the store -and possibly Marv, being decades older than them.

Not since the vault did she spend her day wishing for something to happen. Her mind drifted back to her nights in the maintenance wing, hearing the popping and hissing of the vault's plumbing, the crackle of the generators -and the occasional electrical burst that would nearly have her leaping out of her vault suit with fright. Yet the closest she came to that now was the crackling of the fireplace in Marv's tavern, providing life-giving heat to the drafty building.

'Feels like I'm back in the Vault all over again...' she thought.

As Veronica sat reminiscing, the door opened. More out of instinct than interest she glanced over, expecting to see Simon arriving for a lunch break or his sister/business partner. Were it the latter, it could be a good opportunity for someone to chat with. But surprisingly, it wasn't any of them. She had grown to recognize everyone in town in the weeks she had been living here. But this was someone new.

She recognized immediately the features of a male fox -quite a handsome one at that, she thought. He was wearing a long, black coat to protect himself from the cold, covered almost head-to-toe in snowflakes that clung to the fabric. He had a finely chiseled face hidden beneath his thin, gray fur, with a pair of clear brown eyes that scanned the room as he shed his jacket.

He was lithe of figure -probably did not weigh much more than Veronica did but moved with a certain grace she was not accustomed to seeing, walking slowly and thoughtfully with each step as he crossed the room, hanging his jacket over his arm and approaching the counter. Probably the most unusual thing she could see about him was his lack of armaments -she saw no weapons on his person whatsoever. In the winter wasteland, that meant either that you were dead and looted, or soon would be.

He caught her staring at him, stopping in his tracks. He did not hold her gaze for long before flashing a smile at her and giving a courtly bow in her direction, then resumed crossing the room to the Ghoul-cat at the counter. She blushed slightly and turned her attention away from the fox, rolling her eyes a bit and swishing her tail once behind her as she watched the fox move toward Marv from the corner of her eye.

"Hey there, stranger," Marv greeted the fox with his gravelly voice. To his fortune, the fox did not seem taken aback by the sight of the Ghoul -possibly more accustomed to the corpse-like citizens of the wasteland. "What can I get you?"

"Just something to chase the cold from my bones, good man," the fox answered cordially.

"See what I can do," replied Marv, walking back into the kitchen as the fox draped his coat over the stool next to him and seated himself at the counter to await his order, dipping a paw into the pocket of his trousers for a handful of caps.

Moments later, Marv reappeared from the kitchen with a glass of warm water, leaving it on the counter for the fox. "I got some Radmoose & kelp stew going if you'd like some," her offered.

"Certainly. Sounds perfect," the fox returned with a nod, taking a sip of water as he waited for his meal.

Marv was back in the kitchen and back out again within moments, carrying a pewter bowl filled with his signature dish, hot out of the pot. Though Veronica herself did not like the kelp he served -imported all the way from Horseshoe Bay- she did like the Radmoose stew, and it was a popular item with everyone who entered Marv's place. Including, it seemed, with this fox who had just come into town. He took a spoonful of the stew, tasting it, and seemed to enjoy it.

"Ah, that'll warm me up nicely," he said, nodding. "And it is delicious as well."

"It's my signature dish," Marv announced proudly, leaning on the counter. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I haven't seen you 'round here before. Where you from, eh?"

"I am from Evelyn, good sir," the fox returned. "A small town, east of here in an area known as Lynn Valley."

"Evelyn, as is, Evelyn Park?" Marv inquired.

"Yes."

Marv nodded. "And what brings ya to Grousetown, trade?"

"Actually, I am in need of some assistance," replied the fox. "My home seems to have been struck with an illness. Might you be able to direct me to somewhere I can find a physician?"

"I might know just the guy," offered Marv, looking over at Veronica. "Hey, Ron! Do me a favour -go up and get Grant, would ya?" He requested.

Her ears perked up when her name was called, looking back over toward Marv and giving him a small nod in reply. "Sure thing." She called back as she rose from her seat and began making her way upstairs to Grant's room. 'Hopefully I'll finally get something to do around here...' She thought to herself as she arrived outside Grant's room and knocked on the door a few times.

The buck answered a moment later, sticking his head out to see who it was and spotting Veronica. "Yeah?" He asked.

"Marv wants you." The vixen returned, jerking her head back the way she came. "Some fox dude says he's looking for a physician. Something about an illness affecting his town." She went on.

"Illness?" Grant repeated, giving a hum of intrigue before nodding to her. "I'll be right down," he said.

"Cool. I'll let em know." Ron replied before turning back and heading down the stairs back to the tavern below, nodding to Marv as she arrived. "He's on his way."

"Thank you, miss," the fox returned, giving her another courtly bow. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Only if you tell me yours first, buddy." She returned quickly as she looked back over to the fox, placing one paw on her hip and leaning on it. She was not used to seeing someone so well-mannered in the wasteland, but she wanted to make sure he knew she would not be so easily won over.

"Fair enough," he returned. "I am Alfred Simard, of the town of Evelyn."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him, finding his name somewhat comical since his name sounded like that of a butler's, but she dared not say that aloud. Instead she gave him a small nod and returned the favour. "Veronica Shepard." She replied.

"It is a pleasure, Ms. Shepard," he returned, nodding his head. "Pardon my saying so, but you have the look of a Vault Dweller -not only for your attire, but you do not appear to bear the gruff and wariness of the wasteland."

"You're perceptive, I'll give you that." Ron replied. "Yea, I was from a Vault once. Vault 228 to be exact."

"I see," returned Alfred, nodding. "Well dare I say, it is a rare treat to meet one like yourself, in such dreary times as this." He smiled again, once more bowing to her.

"You always this cordial and flirtatious when you meet a lady?" She asked with a bit of a smirk, now crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Or is this how you normally act?"

"I do consider myself a gentleman," Alfred returned, slowly stepping closer to her but keeping his hands folded over his front. "But I speak truly when I say you are a rare gem, miss Shepard. Unmarred by the unforgiving world we live in."

If Marv were capable of showing expression with his near-skinless face, Veronica had little doubt that he'd be giving her a suggestive look regarding the fox -she could practically read it in his eyes as she glanced past Alfred to look at him. The vixen cringed a little when she saw the look in Marv's eyes before returning her eyes to Alfred's. "...I learned how to adapt with some help." She replied. "Besides, Vault life wasn't for me in the first place...too boring and dull."

Alfred chuckled at that. "A born adventurer! You continue to surprise me," he said. "I look forward to seeing more of you, should the opportunity arise." He inclined his head to her again before going back to the counter.

The thudding of Grant's hooves on the stairs soon filled the room, and the buck descended into the bar area, walking over to the counter to see the new arrival. "Are you the one who asked for me?" He inquired.

"I seek a medical professional. Are you he?" Alfred asked.

"I am a doctor, yes," replied Grant, running his eyes over the fox studiously. "What seems to be the problem?"

"A strange ailment has fallen upon my home in Evelyn," explained Alfred. "A few have already succumbed to this sickness -I have not felt the symptoms myself yet, though I fear it is only a matter of time."

"Can you describe the symptoms?" Grant asked, reaching into his coat to bring forth his medical journal for reference.

"Pain in the limbs, shaking, headaches -some have also shown disorientation," he explained. "A few also have difficulty moving."

Grant leafed through the book in his hands, searching for any entries that matched the symptoms Alfred described. "Any abscesses or blistering?" Grant asked.

"Not that I have seen."

"Have any complained about inflammation in the stomach area?" Grant pressed further.

"A few that I can think of, but it does not appear to present among everyone."

After a moment, Grant found an entry that seemed to fit his search. "It _sounds_like Parkinson's Disease, but if it's spreading among the populace then it can't be," he stated, closing his medical journal and returning it to the pocket of his coat. "I'd have to run blood tests to be sure. Except..." A sour look crossed his features.

"Except what?" Marv asked.

"I can't run tests with what I have," replied Grant. "I'd need some lab equipment. Microscopes, a centrifuge -everything I'd need for a proper blood test, but I don't have anything of the sort."

"Oh dear... that is a problem," admitted Alfred, rubbing his chin in thought.

Ron's ears perked up upon hearing Grant's predicament, a small smirk crossing her face as she felt an opportunity present itself to her to finally chase away her boredom. "Sounds like you might need to go on a scavenger hunt for these parts." She stated as he stepped toward the three of them. "If that's the case, you mind if I lend a hand or two?"

"One step at a time, Ron," Grant intervened. "All of Vancouver's major labs are across the harbour, right into Raider territory. Even if we find one that hasn't been plundered, we'd never get out of there alive without a small army at our back."

But then Marv spoke up. "Wait! Not all the labs are across the bridges," he exclaimed. "There's a few over on this side."

"There are?" Grant asked hopefully.

"Yeah," returned Marv. "There are a few Lifelabs -they did blood testing for donors, so they have to have the equipment you need. If my memory's good, closest one is straight south of here, on Lonsdale avenue. Nearby is also the Northmount Medical Laboratory which might also be worth a shot."

"Blood clinics -perfect!" Grant stated. "As long as they haven't been stripped of everything, I should find all that I need."

"If it will save my home, I will take that risk," stated Alfred firmly. "Please, let me accompany you -I can be of help."

Ron looked over to the fox, sizing him up from head to toe silently before asking. "What can you offer? You know how to use a gun at least?"

"I assure you, ma'am, I am not defenseless." He replied firmly to Veronica, walking over to the counter to pick up his coat. Inside, there was a holster sewn into the fabric, carrying in it a small semi-automatic pistol. "I admit, I am no soldier, but I can protect myself, at least."

"That'll have to do, then, if you want to come along," Grant stated. "But you need to pull your own weight -we can't have you slowing us down."

"Understood. I shall not be a burden."

"Alright then, looks like we got us an adventure." Ron piped up with a grin. "Bout damn time too...I was starting to get bored out of my mind with the lack of jobs around here."

"I do not know how well we will be able to pay you for your services," Alfred confessed. "But know that I will do everything in my power to ensure you are properly compensated for your actions." He bowed his head. "Thank you, for agreeing to aid my home."

Grant nodded. "I will do what I can," he promised. "Marv, can you give us a general direction to go?"

"Once you get down the mountain, head down past Cleveland Park until you get to Montroyal Boulevard. Follow it east all the way to the end, where it'll turn straight south. Once there, you're on Lonsdale." The Ghoul paused to look at Veronica. "Keep Veronica's Pip-boy handy -it should register the lab locations as you find them. If that one's a bust, there's also one east of Capilano Mall, and another over in Lynn Valley you could check -though where they are precisely, I can't recall."

"Lynn Valley?" Grant asked. "Isn't that near Evelyn? That one's on our way."

"Now that you mention it, I have seen a 'Lifelabs' in the area southwest of Evelyn," remarked Alfred. "But I think it was already scavenged -stripped of everything of value long ago."

"Then we'll have to try the other ones," returned Grant. "We'll go to all of them if we have to -at least one of them has to have what we need." He looked at Veronica. "Get your gear then, Ron -we're heading out."

"On it."

~~~~~

The three set out from Grousetown within the hour, walking in a single column down the trails to the city below and following Veronica's Pip-boy compass to keep their course south as they searched for the Capilano Mall. It wasn't a long walk, according to Marv -it would take them a little over an hour. But the weather was showing no signs of improvement, with blowing snow falling around them every step of the way.

Grant had his facemask and goggles on to protect his head from the cold. Veronica had a mask that covered her head fully -ears included, while Alfred was left with only a hood that he continuously had to pull back on when the wind yanked it from his head. He made no complaint, however, and kept pace with the two as they travelled.

Deciding that some small talk might help them pass the time, Grant turned to Alfred. "So, I've never met anyone from Evelyn before. Are you a relatively new community to the area?"

"Not at all," replied Alfred. "We mostly prefer to keep to ourselves, though our town is a frequent stop for traders coming from the north. We're the only town near the Seymour Mainline, so we get many visitors that trade with us on their way to Horseshoe Bay, Woodshade or, I imagine, Grousetown."

"And where do these visitors come from?" Grant asked.

"Most of the time, from Seymour Lake," answered Alfred. "There's a large community up there, far beyond the forests. We have a fine inn at Evelyn where many of the traders spend the night, resting before they continue their journey."

"Do you think it's possible that this virus may have come from Seymour?" Grant asked, curiously.

Alfred put a hand to his chin as he considered the question. "I suppose it's possible, though no one who has come from there recently have mentioned any ailments, nor shown the symptoms my neighbours have."

"They could have been hiding it from you." Ron piped up, unable to help but overhear what they were talking about. "Either they didn't want to cause a scare, or they were afraid if you guys knew they were sick, then you'd deny them access to your town and place them in quarantine."

"That would be presumptuous of them -we welcome _all_visitors, though I suppose I can understand such caution," admitted Alfred. A thought occurred to him at that moment, and he added somberly, "I do hope it did not come from them, because it means there could be an outbreak there too."

"We will know as soon as I can run some tests," returned Grant.

Following Marv's directions, the three travelled along Montroyal Boulevard, running parallel to Highway One. Many locations -potential salvage spots, even, registered on Veronica's Pip-boy as they followed the road. An electronic's store, an inn and a fire hall, with a broken-down fire engine, long since stripped for parts, sitting halfway out of its garage, as though the firefighters who operated the engine had been leaving to respond to a call only to perish suddenly on the spot. Peering through the window as they passed, Grant saw the firefighter uniforms lying in the cab, the bodies reduced to dust with the passage of time, and the colourful outfits faded and tattered.

The last location to register on the Pip-boy was Rockland Park, before the road made a sharp right turn. A weathered sign above was covered in ice and snow, leaving them no way to read it, but the area matched Marv's description, and so their course turned south. More locations continued to appear on her Pip-boy's map as Veronica led the two men down the road. Grant kept a sharp vigil to the surrounding buildings, as did Alfred, his ears twitching at every sound. A distant gunshot brought them pause, gauging the distance for a potential threat. It seemed far away, though, and so they pressed on.

They passed over the Trans-Canada Highway, passed the Centennial Theater on their left, a few restaurants and a London Drugs -Veronica pointed to it and looked at Grant, who pointed out to her that it was a superstore with a little of everything, but would not have anything they needed. On her Pip-boy, Veronica could see a collection of locations all gathered in one area, including a medical symbol.

It was then Grant spoke up. "We're still on Lonsdale, but still no sign of the lab," he said. "Has anyone seen it yet?"

"Not I," answered Alfred.

"Nope, nothing." Veronica answered as well. "Pippy's not picking anything up that remotely resembles a lab either."

"What about that strip mall over there?" Alfred offered, pointing to their left to a large structure, once housing multiple pre-war businesses.

"Worth a shot," replied Grant, shrugging.

They made their way towards the strip mall. On her map compass, Veronica once more eyed the medical symbol, wondering if perhaps it was what they were looking for. Unfortunately, it was around the other side of the building, forcing her to lead the other two around to the back. The building was home to many businesses -a computer store, a fitness center, a stylist, a cafe and even some insurance broker.

But as they rounded the building, she stopped as a new location registered on her map. "Lonsdale Lifelabs", straight ahead of them around the back of the strip mall.

"Hold up!" She called to Grant and Alfred, lifting her hand up to get them to stop moving. "Found it. The labs are just ahead of us round the rear end of the mall." She informed her allies.

"Ah, fantastic!" Alfred exclaimed joyfully. "Lead on, my lady!"

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet." She warned the fox as she began walking toward the labs. "God knows what's waiting for us when we get there. Better get that little peashooter of yours ready just in case."

"Peashooter?" Alfred echoed, reaching into his coat for his pistol as she suggested. "I hardly call a .45 caliber a 'peashooter', madame."

"Powerful as it may be, what good's a seven-round mag going to do you when it's empty and you're backed into a corner?" She queried in a smug tone.

"Then I best make sure my blade skills are up to the task," he returned, flicking his left arm and letting a butterfly knife slide from his sleeve into his left paw, opening it with a twirl of his hand with practiced dexterity. "Or, just make sure I don't miss," he added confidently, waving his pistol in the air.

"...You got balls, I'll give you that." Ron admitted as they rounded the corner leading to where her Pip-Boy picked up the location of the labs.

Behind them, though, Grant had stopped, eyeing Alfred warily as he walked with Veronica to locate the lab. His brown eyes narrowed warily. 'A semi-automatic, low profile pistol worn inside his coat,' he thought, 'and a folding knife hidden in his left sleeve... why would a self-styled 'gentleman' need so many concealable weapons?'

As he stood there, Veronica poked her head back out from around the corner and called back to him. "Hey, you plan on taking sniper duty again or you going to help me find the equipment we need?"

Grant snapped out of his trance. "What? Oh, yeah; I'm coming," he returned, jogging over to her and joining her in the lab, making a mental note to watch Alfred a little more closely from now on.

They passed the waiting room at the front, heading into the back where the laboratory equipment would be. Although the place had clearly been looted at least several times, some of the equipment was around. But as Grant examined some of it, his hopes seemed to be dashed the longer he went, the equipment in poor condition. He picked up one item from one the last of the tables, looking it over carefully, and seemed more hopeful as he studied it.

"Well this centrifuge seems to be intact," he said. "But the rest of what I need isn't." He picked up a warped microscope, lacking even the crystalline lens, huffing in annoyance and tossing it nonchalantly aside. "We'll have to try another lab."

"It might be a longshot, since Alfie here already made mention of it before, but we could try the labs at Lynn Valley." Ron suggested. "Surely there's got to be _something_there you could use."

"We'll save that as a last resort," replied Grant. "The next place we should try is Northmount Medical Labs -Marv said they weren't too far from here."

"Did he say where?" Alfred asked.

Grant glanced at him, his reply coming after a short pause. "No, but maybe we can find out." He put the centrifuge into his pack, and made his way over to the reception desk, kneeling in front of the drawers and pulling them open one at a time to rummage through them.

Before either Veronica or Alfred could ask what he was doing, he seemed to find what he was looking for, pulling out a large, yellow-paged book in rough shape, but still eligible in most places, placing it gingerly on the desk and opening it. "Let's see here..."

"If I may ask, what is that?" Alfred inquired.

"It's a phonebook," replied Grant. "Long before computers were the norm, people would find the contact numbers for businesses using these -very oldschool but effective. And, it seems this sturdy desk preserved one for us."

"And here I thought you couldn't surprise me any further." Ron said with a smirk. "Lemme guess, you're going to go all Sherlock Holmes on us whenever there's a murder in town?"

Grant looked back at her quizzically. "Sherlock who?" He asked.

Veronica's smirk quickly faded to a blank expression. "...You're joking." She said in disbelief. "Seriously? World's Greatest Detective? You never read any of his books?"

"Veronica, out here, you're lucky to find a book that hasn't been used for kindling or toilet paper, and that's assuming it was well-preserved. Just finding this phonebook is a miracle."

"He raises a fair point," admitted Alfred with a shrug. "I can count on one paw how many eligible books I have found."

Ron slapped her forehead gently. "Doi. Right. I forgot you guys never lived in Vaults before." She muttered, rolling her eyes at her own hubris.

"I do enjoy a good mystery though," Alfred remarked, intrigued. "Might you still have a copy of this 'Sherlock Holmes'?"

"Not really..." She replied honestly. "The books back at my Vault were VaultSec property. I couldn't have taken 'em even if I wanted to."

"Ah. A shame," returned Alfred, shrugging.

"Here it is," said Grant. "I've got Northmount's address -Thirteenth Street south-east." He turned to Veronica. "Can you bring up your map?" He asked, walking over to her.

"One moment." The Vixen replied, lifting her arm and fiddling with her Pip-Boy until she found the map setting, to which she then walked over to Grant and allowed him to study it with her.

Grant rolled the image down, zooming in close enough for the map to also give the street and avenue numbers. "Sixteenth... fifteenth... fourteen -thirteen! Here it is. Just six blocks down from us. The lab should be along this road here."

"Alright, lemme just set a marker on the map real quick." Veronica replied, once more fiddling with one of the knobs on her Pip-Boy until a small dot appeared on the area they needed to head to next. "Location's marked. Let's be on our way, shall we?"

"I didn't know you could do that," Grant remarked, impressed.

With that, they left the labs, taking with them the centrifuge and a few other items Grant picked on the way out, returning to Lonsdale and turning their course back to the south once more.

The found themselves following the Pip-boy's markers on the few wild goose chases on the way, as they found numerous other locations marked by medical symbols, including a pharmacy, a dentist and even a clinic for hearing. But, to their fortune, next door to this clinic was their destination, registering on the Pip-boy as Northmount Medical Labs. One of the largest buildings in the area.

Before them was a multi-story structure -not quite a skyscraper but certainly taller than they were expecting. Nine floors of glass windows, shattered years ago by the detonation of the bombs that had hit Vancouver, yet leaving the building itself intact otherwise, towered above the three. Yet, undeniably, this was the building that Veronica's Pip-boy was pointing to, but Grant felt a sense of doubt in his mind as he studied the structure.

"This looks more like an office building than a lab," Grant remarked. "You sure that thing is working right?"

"Pretty sure...The location's marked as Northmount Labs, and it's pointing to the building right in front of us." She remarked. "So, unless this thing's glitched, which I doubt 'cuz these damn things are indestructible, this is the place."

The three stood in silence for a time, staring up at the large structure until Alfred spoke. "Well, as long as we're here, we may as well take a look," he said with a shrug. "There could be more here than meets the eye."

"I guess so," admitted Grant, and led the way up to the building.

They stepped through the front doors, entering the lobby. They found their way to the stairs, and climbed to the next floor to take a look around. But as they checked the rooms on every floor, they quickly reached the same conclusion as Grant -that the building itself was not a laboratory at all. Rather, it appeared to have been used to rent space to multiple areas of medicine, from cosmetic to maternity, to even some law firms. Though Grant found some items in the clinics that appeared to be useful, he was still disappointed -as were Veronica and Alfred, as the equipment they had come for was nowhere to be found.

"Well this ended up being a waste of time," Grant said, sourly. "There's no 'lab' of any kind here."

"Quite a misleading name," agreed Alfred.

"Whoever decided to name this place a 'lab' clearly wasn't playing with a full deck of cards..." Ron chimed in with disgust. "I knew common sense was rare back then, but this? Really?"

"Well... there are still two other labs we can check, but they're in opposite directions," Grant said. "One's west of here towards the Capilano mall -though I'd rather not go that way. That mall has been a raider nest in the past. The other one -closer to Evelyn, you said was already scavenged, right?" Grant directed his question at Alfred.

"Yes, to my knowledge," Alfred returned.

Grant huffed, slipping back into thought again to consider their options further. "If I remember correctly, Lion's Gate Hospital is just up the road east of here. Maybe we can find _something_there on our way to Evelyn -some hospitals had labs." Grant suggested. "If not, we'll stop at the lab enroute to Evelyn and..." He gave a short pause, before shrugging. "Hope for the best. There was also a pharmacy back the way we came -I want to stop there to see if I can't touch up my supplies."

The three agreed that this seemed to be their best course of action, and so they left the structure, retracing their steps to the pharmacy they had passed, locating it easily. They did not hold much hope to finding anything salvageable inside, as the shelves were laid bare of all food and medicinal items, leaving behind only plastic toys and old DVD's the stores kept -amenities now useless in the wasteland.

Grant made his way to the back of the store to the pharmacy. Hopping the counter, he approached the back room where the remedies and prescription drugs were kept. To his delight, the backroom was still locked. Smiling, he proceeded to kick open the door -briefly causing Alfred and Veronica to jump at the noise that followed- before entering the room and beginning to examine the contents of the shelves. Some had been cleared by those who had come before, but the collection that remained was still ideal. He uttered a silent thanks to the pharmacists for not taking it all before he began exploring the items and filling his medical bag with anything useful.

As Veronica wandered the store, a noise outside the store caught her ears. She motioned for Alfred to be quiet and listened, hearing a whooping call -the kind someone would make after having uncovered some buried treasure. Curious, she lifted her Pip-boy to chest height, examining the compass and angling it until three marks appeared to the south-west.

Red marks.

Her fur stood on end when she saw the marks, recognizing them as hostile threats immediately. She ran to the back counter, daring not raise her voice at Grant to get his attention. "We've got company," she hissed. "Three bogies just outside the building, and judging from the wild behaviour I just heard, I'd venture to say raiders."

"Shit!" Grant cursed, lifting his rifle from his shoulder and moving to stand behind the counter. "Back here, quickly!" He hissed, disengaging the safety of his rifle and ducking low.

Veronica and Alfred bound over the counter, ducking down as they heard the front door to the store opening and three pairs of footsteps stepping inside. "Come on, boys -there's gotta be somethin' left in here," one of them stated.

"I hope so. I need my fix, brother."

"We all need our fix, Lazlo -shut your pie-hole."

Alfred sat, back against the counter, listening to the conversation with an intense look on his face. Veronica couldn't tell if it was fear or anxiety, but either way, the arrival of the raiders had seemed to switch something on within him, fingering the trigger of his gun absently as he waited.

The Vixen poked his shoulder to get his attention, pointing to his gun and whispering. "Ease off the trigger a bit there and take a deep breath. Relax." She advised him. "Remember what I said about being backed in a corner. Just keep calm and don't do anything stupid..."

"Sorry... it has just... been a long time since I had to shoot another person," he said, shakily.

Grant listened to the ongoing conversation of the raiders, trying to get an analysis of the situation. "If these guys are looking for a 'fix' chances are, there aren't any drugs in their systems -this'll make them easier to deal with," he said. "Ron, give us directions -where are they in the store?"

She looked at her Pip-boy, studying the direction of the markers on the compass. Two of the raiders were still walking together but one had strayed off from the group to wander another part of the store, off to the immediate left. But as she opened her mouth to relay this info to Grant, an excited voice from over the counter caught their ears and caused all three of them to freeze.

"Hey... hey guys! The back room's open, and I can see some shit on the shelves!" Called one of the raiders. "We scored a big one today!"

He bounded over the counter, landing just behind Grant. Now on their side, the Raider -a filth-ridden male lynx wearing only tattered pants with half a car tire over one shoulder like some form of protective armour, looked down and saw the three, his eyes bulging wide open in shock at the sight of them.

"What the fu-?!" He started to say, but Alfred's weapon discharged before he could finish, the bullet perforating his throat and sending the raider onto his back, clutching his bleeding throat.

"The fuck! Someone's here!" One of the other raiders shouted, before bullets began to tear into the top of the counter, splintering the particle board countertop and ricocheting off the floor tiles behind the three

"Son of a bitch!" Ron exclaimed. "Well they know we're here now!"

"And one of them's got a submachine gun, too!" Grant returned, raising his voice over the gunfire.

"Fucking hell." Ron cursed under her breath, daring to peek over the edge of the counter to get a glimpse of their enemy, but a shower of bullets forced her to duck back down behind cover.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the hail of bullets stopped, and the raider uttered a curse. Grant daringly stood, rising from behind the counter aiming with his rifle and firing, but the raider was already diving for cover beheind the checkout counter, throwing himself over the top while his partner stayed hidden behind a shelf, hidden from sight.

But not hidden from Veronica's pip-boy. She could see him easing his way along the shelf moving in their direction. The instant the raider stepped out and took aim with his own gun, Veronica already had her pistol trained in his direction, firing two rounds into his torso and sending him reeling. His blip vanished from her Pip-boy within seconds of his fall.

Then the hail of bullets returned as the other raider reloaded his gun and began spraying in their direction again, the hail of bullets tearing through shelves, counters, unbroken windows and the rear wall alike, all the while the raider laughed maniacally. "You're dead, meat sacks! Ya hear me? You're fucking dead!" He crowed.

Ron quickly checked her Pip-Boy to get a better idea on where the raider was exactly, then studied her surroundings for a moment before looking to Alfred. "Fire a few blind shots to get his attention. I've got an idea." She stated as she started scooting toward the edge of the counter they were all hiding behind.

"As you say," he returned.

Waiting until the hail of bullets stopped before raising his arm over the top of the counter, Alfred fired three shots in the general direction of the raider. Grant raised himself over the counter enough to take a shot as well, the raider letting out a pained yelp following the shot.

"I grazed him," he whispered hastily to Ron. "He's taken cover -go!"

Ron sprang into action, rolling out of cover and taking the aisles as she made her way back to the front of the store. She then hopped up on the counter the raider was hiding. After reloading his weapon for the third time, he stood only to find her pistol pressed into his head. "Enjoy your dirt nap." She growled before putting a bullet clean into his skull.

The raider fell, his head eliciting a wet splat as he hit the floor. Cautiously, Grant and Alfred emerged from hiding, climbing over the counter and making their way up to the front to join her. But as she turned to face them, both men's face suddenly alit with surprise, looking past her. Alfred lunged towards her as Grant called her name, raising his rifle at an unseen target as the male fox threw himself at Veronica, knocking her to the ground as a deafening gunshot left her ears ringing and the window above her head -what remained of it -shattering.

Grant's rifle fired, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground outside the store. Raising her head, she saw the limp body of a fourth raider -previously not shown on her Pip-boy when she had spotted the first three. Another member of the same gang who had fallen behind perhaps, drawn by the sound of gunshots.

Alfred lifted himself from her, looking at her with concern showing in his deep brown eyes. "Are you hurt?" He asked.

"J-Just a bit dazed...but I'm fine." She assured Alfred, staring back up into his eyes and sighing a bit before she continued. "Thanks for the save, Alfie."

"You are most welcome," he replied, smiling at her.

Grant stepped over to them, slinging his rifle over his shoulder before offering a hand. Alfred accepted, his weight leaving Veronica as he was hoisted to his feet. Grant followed up with Ron after, lifting her back to her feet. "Anyone hit?" He asked.

"I do not believe so," Alfred returned, looking himself over.

"I'm good." Ron announced as she was helped back to her feet. "Jeez... how'd I miss a fourth Raider? I thought this thing was supposed to pick up anything within a wide radius." She commented, looking at her Pip-Boy with a disappointed gaze.

"He must've just been out of range, and then moved closer when he heard the gunshots," offered Grant. "If this many are out here, the gang can't be far away. We should move on."

"I concur," returned Alfred.

They left the store, heading back onto 13th street and following it eastward. They heard more voices rapidly approaching their position -Veronica looked at her Pip-boy, turning in the direction of the voices, spotting four... six... at least nine raiders coming their way, with a few more coming into range of the gadget by the second. It seemed as though a small army were coming! Relaying this to the two males, they redoubled their pace, not stopping even as they heard shots being fired in their direction. Thankfully, none of them were hit as they rounded a corner onto the next block and, making their way north as fast as their legs could carry them.

Grant, Veronica and Alfred soon managed to lose the gang of raiders as they fled up the street, for once thankful for the blowing snow falling around them that made it harder for them to track in the distance. Though they left footprints that made their course obvious, they did not stop until they were unanimously positive that the raiders were no longer following them.

Catching their breath -and knowing they could not risk going back to the hospital Grant had mentioned before due to it being too close to where they had seen the raiders, they let Alfred take the lead, deciding that their only choice now was to go to Evelyn, stop at the labs on the way and hope that they had what Grant needed to do the blood test on the citizens, and identify the illness that they suffered under.

Veronica took the middle of their single-file formation, always keeping her pip-boy where she could see it, but every so often she'd rely on her eyes to survey their surroundings as well. During one such time, when the glare was not reflecting off Grant's goggles, she saw the eyes behind them. Grant's expression was often stern, but the look he was casting ahead of them was deeper than that. Suspicion, she guessed, and to her own confusion his eyes were fixed upon the back of Alfred.

Her curiosity won over, and she slipped back to Grant to nudge him in the side, getting his attention. "You look as though you're looking at another Raider -the hell's got you so worked up?" She asked quietly to the buck.

"It's Alfred," he said lowly, so that the fox would not hear him. "There is something about him -something ...off. I can't place it, but..." He trailed off, unable to find the words. He scoffed, shaking his head before looking at her. "We shouldn't trust him, Ron -I know he fought with us back there, but something is off about him. Don't turn your back on him for even a moment."

"...Okaaay?" Ron returned, slowly looking away from him. "Whatever you say, Buck-o."

She didn't believe him. Grant wanted to scold her for that -to remind her of some of his earlier lessons to her, but the buck never took his eyes from Alfred, watching how he moved and replaying his recent memories of the fox in his mind, from their first meeting in Grousetown to the present. His first red flag had of course been the fox's weapons though that was hardly damning, and though that detail still stood out to Grant it was not the logical answer he sought.

Alfred, to him, seemed like a good person. Like someone who might open his door to the weary traveller, offer them warm food and drink, and a bed sleep in. He was obviously numbed to the guilt of taking another life to protect his own or that of others -any true wastelander was. But his gentlemanly demeanour was rarely seen in such times -nobody bothered taking the time to practice good manners when survival was a day-to-day occupation. That alone made Alfred unusual at best.

Yet, simply looking at Alfred caused his fur to stand on end, his every thought about Alfred as to mark the fox as dangerous. He did not need much study to see that Veronica did not share his concerns. That worried him more than a little -she had good sense, but her instincts were dulled by her days in the vault, never expecting the unseen -not like him, who had lived in this violent world for his whole life.

For now, Grant could make no move against Alfred, but he would be ready if such a need arose...

Locating the Lifelabs clinic, the three began their search of the place. To their delight, they found several pieces of untouched equipment in sealed cases in the lab's storage area, including the remaining items Grant needed for a blood test. Alfred uttered a silent prayer of gratitude to the higher powers at their fortune, fearing that the clinic had been stripped by his own people long ago. He eagerly helped Grant secure the items into a box to carry them and offered to do the lifting -but Grant assured him he could manage, being the strongest of the three. The buck did well to hide his disdain of the fox from him -though Veronica still did not know why Grant was so leery towards him.

Now having everything they needed, Alfred took the lead once more, and led them onward to his hometown of Evelyn with renewed hope bringing a skip to his step. It was not far from their current position, centered around the former location of Evelyn Park in the pre-war days, with the houses around it -patched up by the new residents, securely enclosed within a thick, wooden wall. A small sentry tower had been built in the middle of the park, where a posted guard could see over the walls -though the tower currently sat vacant. Alfred explained that one of the afflicted was the town sentry, who had fallen ill days before and could not continue his duties.

They ventured into the walled community and were shortly greeted by friendly faces. It seemed like everyone in the town came out to greet them -bar those who were too ill to leave their beds. Both Veronica and Grant took notice that everyone on Evelyn was of vulpine birth -their colours varied, but it was clearly a single-species community. Foxes, male and female, young and old, populated the little town, and they all seemed very friendly, evidently in poor health. To Veronica, it might have seemed like a reunion with distant cousins.

Several of the citizens appeared to be pale and sickly, they noticed, the illness in its early stages with them. They were the first that Alfred assured he had found help for their community, gesturing to Grant. The residents eyed him closely as if sizing him up for a moment, and then looked at Veronica. The looks they gave her were strange, but not hostile, and still they were welcoming of her. They did not offer to shake her paw, though "would not want you catching whatever bug has befallen us," one had said.

She was appreciative of that, for she had no desire to be sick either.

"I best get to work," Grant stated, politely declining the offer of refreshments from the residents, wanting to get started. "Do you happen to know who some of the earliest afflicted were? The closer I get to the source of the virus, the better I can identify it."

"Of course. You will want Victor," Alfred stated. "He lives in the last house on the right just next to the wall -someone will go with you to let him know you're coming. His house should have a spare room where you can set up as well."

"Thank you," Grant returned, half-heartedly, his eyes darting between the town residents he could see, studying them carefully and casting a few glances back at Alfred as well before taking the equipment they had gathered and locating the house, accompanied by one of the younger residents.

Veronica still didn't know what was troubling him so. She admitted seeing an all-fox community was strange to her, having grown up in a vault filled with a variety of species. Though it consisted entirely of canids for breeding purposes -cross compatibility, there was still plenty of variety. Even Grousetown's few citizens belonged to different races, her own being the latest addition.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Alfred, his expression warm and inviting, looking at her. "Shall we get out of the cold, Miss Shepard?" He asked, gesturing to one of the houses tucked away in the corner of the enclosed community-his own, she guessed.

"Uh, sure. Yea that sounds good." She agreed with a nod, admittedly starting to feel a bit chilly despite her modified Vault Suit.

Alfred put a paw on her back to help her along and led her towards the house. She took in her surroundings as they walked, counting seven intact houses from where she stood, though imagined more were nearby as the little community seemed to have at least thirty inhabitants. The park, where a playground once stood, had been cleared to set up a pair of shanty structures -a general trader, and a butcher shop, Alfred indicated.

As they reached the house, Alfred unlocked the door, holding it open for Veronica and giving a courtly bow. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the interior of the house. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Wow, you really are a gentleman, huh?" Ron asked as she stepped into the house.

Alfred shut the door, locking out the cold winds of the winter night, and Veronica made a left into the living area of the house and walked over to the closest chair to take a seat. She let out a heavy sigh as she nearly fell into the chair, welcome for the chance to finally be off her feet since leaving Grousetown. "Well, at least I can safely say that today wasn't the least bit boring."

Alfred chuckled as he hung his coat on a rack by the door. "I agree," he said. "It has been a while since I had so much excitement." He walked over to her, standing beside her chair and smiling at her. "Can I get you anything?"

"Just water if you have any. That last gunfight worked up a thirst." She answered casually.

"Right away," he replied, stepping over to an oil lamp on an end table resting next to the couch, proceeding to light the wick to give the room some light before he ventured into the kitchen. "I could prepare you a meal as well, if you like. Our town's butcher offers some exquisite cuts of meat."

Though Veronica was tired, she wasn't particularly hungry at that moment -despite all the walking and the fighting. Perhaps she too tired to think about eating. "Ehh....nah, I'll pass. Just water's fine. Thanks for the offer though."

"But of course," he returned. "Let me know if you need anything at all -what's mine is yours." He said as she heard him rummaging through a refrigerator in the kitchen -unpowered, but still useful for storage, before making his way back into the living room and offering her a glass bottle of water, held gingerly in his paws. "Here you are, fresh from Lake Seymour," he said. "And do not worry -it is purified. No radiation or contaminants."

"...There's a lake that hasn't been hit by radiation?" She asked as she took the bottle from him and popped it open, taking a swig from it quickly before continuing. "I would have thought this entire area would still be irradiated, water and all."

"You would be correct, actually," he replied. "As I said, the water is purified -the town up by the lake has a purifier that they use to provide themselves with clean lake water, which they also trade to us in exchange for our salvage -we are in a more suitable location for scavenging than they, so it is a mutually beneficial pact."

"..How'd they get the purifier to work?" Ron asked.

"You would have to ask them -I am afraid I don't know," Alfred admitted with a sheepish chuckle and a shrug.

Ron nodded, taking another sip of her water. "So, what's your story? How'd you end up here?"

He hummed in thought. "Where to begin...?" He wondered aloud, thinking carefully how to begin his explanation. "My mother and father were Vault dwellers, like yourself. Vault 234, far to the north. From what they told me, the vault developed problems in its later years -the food supplies were running low, and the recycler ceased functioning. The population had grown too large, and so it became necessary to leave the vault and begin seeking food from elsewhere."

He walked about in a slow circle as he continued retelling his story. "Hunting was of course common -no shortage of game for those who know where to look. Except, no one in the vault really knew _how_to hunt, let alone skin a beast," he went on. "Many nights, my family went hungry, and the problems only arose when I was born, because now there was _another_mouth to feed." He sighed, shaking his head. "So, one day, they did not return to the vault, knowing it was only a matter of time before some changes would have to be made. Changes, including population reduction.

"On and on they went, myself but a kit on the journey, spending my waking moments in my mothers coat nestled against her chest. Eventually, our group grew larger, and we found a place to settle -here in Evelyn Park, safely tucked away from the raiders in the south." He waved his hand to the house. "And the buildings were mostly intact -a little patchwork and perfectly liveable."

He sat down on the couch as he continued his story. "All other skills we had to develop through trial and error, including how to properly prepare meat, and the best ways to find it. It was a struggle, for many years -we lost many of our group along the way." He shook his head. "A tragedy, it was. But in the end, with their help, we managed to find a way to feed everyone, and procure fresh water from Lake Seymour's residents. Overtime, it seemed like we could make a stable life for ourselves here, with a large stockpile of fresh meat to feed ourselves, plenty of places to salvage." He shrugged. "It's not perfect, but it is a living. And that's the long and short of it. I was raised here in Evelyn from that day forward."

"Huh...sounds a little like how I ended up out here." She commented. "Only in my case, it wasn't because of a shortage of food, it was a riot that got seriously out of hand, and the overseer took drastic measures to contain it..."

"Indeed?" Alfred asked, curiosity piqued and waiting to hear more. "What was your role in this, if I might ask?"

"I'm Vault Security -or was, before I left," she explained. "So my part in the riot was to contain it and put a stop to it. But..." She grimaced. "Everything just flew out of control so quickly, I just wasn't sure what to do, and my captain was put in a really tight spot because of our crazed overseer." Ron sighed as she went on. "Things got bad... so bad that the Overseer had to be put down." She rolled her eyes away from Alfred as she recounted the events of that fateful night. "...And guess who pulled the trigger."

"Oh," he said, understanding. "I am sorry... I didn't mean to bring back a bad memory."

"It's fine. It all happened really fast, but I'm over it." She returned with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Point is, I shot the sheriff, I got exiled, and since then I've been living in Grousetown ever since Grant found me half frozen to death near the gondola at the mountain's base."

"Ill-prepared for the winter conditions -a common error for someone who has just come from the vault. Something my family experienced. Nobody really knows what it is like out here until they step forth and see it for the first time," said Alfred, rising from his couch before walking over to kneel in front of Veronica. "But I am pleased Mr. Grant was able to save you. Else, I may never have had the opportunity to meet such a fine woman."

Again, she raised an eyebrow at him, finding his gentlemanly demeanour somewhat amusing now that she had a moment alone with him. "You trying to flatter me there, Alfie?" She asked.

"I am merely speaking the truth, my lady," he returned. "Many women who have first left the vault are scared, vulnerable -hysterical, even. Yet here you stand before me -or sit, as it were," he added in jest, "as hardened as any wastelander." He dared to reach out his paw to rest upon hers. "You are an exceptionally rare specimen, Veronica -strong, and beautiful, like a diamond that yields to nothing. Needless to say, I am greatly intrigued."

Veronica looked down at his paw atop of hers for a moment, then back up at him and began to smirk, which soon became a small chuckle. "You are trying to flatter me, aren't you?" She asked. "C'mon, jig's up pal. Just admit it already."

"Does that mean it's working?" He asked, wearing a large grin on his face. His gentlemanly demeanour was gone in that question, revealing a new side of him -a more playful side.

"Maybe..." Ron returned, still smirking as she leaned forward slightly. "Though that's for me to know and for you to find out, good sir."

"I look forward to uncovering the mystery then," he answered.

"Better get to work then, Sherlock."

Grant finished laying out his equipment on the table, trying not to let the moaning of his patient distract him as he slipped on a pair of clean nitrile gloves to protect his hands -and his patient in turn -from any risk of contamination or infection. He started by taking a blood sample from the patient using a clean syringe from his bag, bringing it over to the microscope and examining it closely for any irregularities that stood out to him.

When he saw no results, he went on to conduct his battery of tests on the blood, checking the glucose and sodium levels. Signs of malnutrition, he noted -the subject had not been eating properly, though one his housemates informed Grant they had been feeding him, he'd been having trouble swallowing. Even now, Grant could hear laboured breathing from his patient, Victor. His body spasmed randomly, as though he had lost all control of his motor functions. He was exhibiting other symptoms, like that of pneumonia -shortness of breath, chills and sweating. Grant worked quickly, wanting to find what ailment could cause so many symptoms in a person.

While Grant waited on his samples, he tested Victor's control by telling the patient to grasp his hand. He couldn't -not of his own power. Occasionally while the fox held Grant's hand, there would be a sudden pressure from the muscle spasming, but they had no control over it. He shone a light in Victor's eyes, telling him to follow it -he tried, but couldn't keep his eyes on the light. He tried to speak -his speech was slurred and barely eligible. He mentioned that his chest hurt, yet shortly after saying this, a goofy smile crossed his features. "But I feel fine," he said, before breaking out a rampant, raspy cough -which occasional changed pitch, sounding like he was trying to laugh while struggling to take in a breath until it concluded, and he lay back on the bed.

As Grant's tests on the blood finished, he checked the results, studying the blood test strips carefully. "Glucose... Cholesterol... HDL, all really low," he muttered to himself, setting the test strips aside. He had found no IV Saline bags, leaving him with no way to give nutrients to Victor. "No signs of blood infection either -it's not pneumonia," he said. But then why was his patient showing signs of it -and what was causing this lack of muscle control?

As soon as he placed the samples upon the table, the laboured breathing of Victor increased, becoming more erratic. He turned to look at Victor, sensing something was wrong. He ran over to him, calling his name and trying to steady him. Victor's muscle spasming worsened, practically thrashing in Grant's arms as he fought to breath, coughing violently for several moments until his face was reddened from lack of oxygen. Then, slowly, he became still.

"Victor?" Grant called. "Victor, can you hear me?" He asked, checking the man's pulse, counting for thirty seconds and waiting to feel a throb against his finger.

Nothing.

Determined not to let his patient expire, Grant hurried to resuscitate him, using chest compressions and a respiratory mask to try and get his breathing going again. After several minutes, he received no response from Victor, and knew that his efforts were in vain. The sickness had claimed another victim...

"Damn it," the hardened wasteland doctor cursed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, fella..." He whispered.

He covered Victor's body with a blanket, before going back to sit down in his chair, pondering all that he had learned over the past few hours since he had started working. Which was, very little -everything he had suspected to be the cause of the ailment had proven wrong. Blood tests showed nothing, the symptoms were similar to Parkinson's Disease and Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease but neither one was an exact match to the symptoms Victor had been showing. The pneumonia-like symptoms added to the confusion.

'Loss of motor control, shaking, dementia, lack of coordination, slurred speech, difficulty swallowing leading to malnutrition, compulsive -what could it be?' He wondered. He had seen many illnesses in the wasteland, but none had been similar to this -nothing of his experience could offer him answers. He also still had to tell Alfred he had failed to save Victor.

"There must be something," he said, reaching into his coat for his medical journal, taking off his gloves and leafing through the pages carefully, checking various entries for signs of a match on the many diseases written in this book -recorded by doctors of the past an rewritten many times by those that followed. Some of the illnesses bore similarities, but none were an exact match from A to J.

He reached the 'K' section, about to bypass it utterly until an entry near the end caught his eye -particularly the mention of 'loss of motor control'. He opened to the full page and read over the entry fully. By now he had given up all hope to finding the right illness, suspecting this to be a new virus that modern medicine had never encountered before the war... but as he read the entry further, his eyes widened as he found the symptoms on the entry listed to be a perfect match to Victor, minus one or two that some other townsfolk had shown but were still in the early stages.

There was only one way to contract the virus according to the notes, and it was that exact cause that disturbed him the most. "It can't be..." He said.

He didn't want to believe what he was reading, yet there could be no denying the similarities. Hee knew there was one way to be sure. Victor's housemates had claimed they had managed to feed him a few hours ago, grinding up some food for him to check. The only food the town had was meat -no kelp from the sea, nor roots from the woods -if they could find any. Whatever Victor had been fed would still be in there.

Grant had little choice, then. Putting back on his gloves, he opened his doctor's bag, putting on a mask and a brown apron -not even a doctor's apron, but it was all he had- after taking off his coat. Then, from his toolkit, he produced a scalpel. He paused, walking over to the bedroom door to close and lock it, then returned to the beside, slowly cutting open Victor's shirt to expose his sunken belly. His ribs were visible from malnutrition, showing his bone structure to Grant in vivid detail.

Steeling himself for what he would find, Grant lowered the scalpel to Victor's belly... and began to cut.

Alfred and Veronica sat together on the couch in his house, regaling each other with tales of their adventures in the wasteland. Though Alfred had few stories to tell, they were startling nonetheless, including a raider ambush on the bridges when he and some other scavengers had tried to cross them, not knowing about the raiders that dominated the area across Vancouver harbour. Alfred and his team at the time barely managed to get away -though one of them was shot through the leg and could not walk properly since then.

When it was Veronica's turn, she chose to tell him about her and Grant's encounter with the bandits who had kidnapped the girl from Woodshade... and the Deathclaw their fight had attracted. Alfred's eyes widened in shock at the mention of a Deathclaw, listening with unbreakable attentiveness as she went over the events of that night.

"We managed to escape the damned thing by hiding out in an old abandoned house and laying low until it passed." Ron recounted. "Was a pretty scary experience altogether."

"I would imagine," said Alfred. "I have never seen a Deathclaw myself, but they have been described to me by many a traveller to be the stuff of nightmares." He reached for a platter of jerky he'd brought out earlier, nibbling on a piece before looking at Veronica again. "I'm glad it didn't find you," he said after swallowing the piece he'd eaten.

"Yea, me too. Otherwise both myself and Grant would be its next snack." Ron returned with a small laugh.

"It is a terrible tragedy about the girl though," Alfred said, the hand holding the jerky he snacked on resting on his leg as a somber expression crossed his features. "The world suffers a great loss when one is taken from this world too soon, before they have had a chance to realize their potential and serve a greater good..."

Ron sighed a bit and lowered her gaze. "Yea...sucks that we couldn't get her back home to her brother." She admitted. "Bet she could have really made a difference in these wastelands we call home."

He looked at Veronica apologetically. "I'm sure you did you best, regardless."

"I did all I could." She replied with a shrug. "Got a souvenir for it at least, but...woulda been better if we managed to save that girl." She looked up absently with a sigh. "Oh well...It's in the past now. Just have to keep moving forward."

He set down the meat in his paw, and reached for her paw with his other one, grasping it comfortingly. "We owe it to those before us to do so," he said.

Ron glanced toward him out of the corner of her eye, managing a small smirk. "First you're a gentleman, now you're a philosopher?" She joked. "What's next, a Philanthropist?"

He chuckled. "Promoting the welfare of others -I like to think I do that for Evelyn here," he said. "After all, everything I have done has been to ensure its continuation -not the least of which, finding a medical expert to help us."

"So, I've noticed." The vixen commented, turning more in her seat to look at him straight on. "You know...you're alright, Alfie. It's not often I find some decent people outside of Grousetown."

He frowned at that. "Oh, Miss Shepard, I assure you my book is not entirely clean," he said. "There have been times where one must make a hard decision to survive... I have had to make such decisions, as I am sure you have as well." He sighed. "Decisions that I wish I could have done differently -could have found another way..." His tone was sad as he spoke, slipping into a reminiscent melancholy. "Could have saved so many more..."

"Oh..." Veronica's usual attitude dropped slightly at what he was implying, making her ears wilt slightly to the sides. "I guess you've had to make some pretty big sacrifices just to keep going." She added, turning her hand slightly to grasp the hand that was holding hers. "Well, even so...Like I just said, you gotta just keep moving forward. Don't want all those sacrifices to be in vain, right?"

"Indeed," he returned, nodding. "The challenge always is that they never teach you precisely how to live with your choices -the ever-burning question that there may have been another way, was it the better one -what were its consequences, versus those of the decision you did make? Which one was the right one in the end?"

In Grant's temporary lab, the buck felt his heart sinking as the confirmed the stomach contents of the now deceased Victor, realizing just what it was he had ingested. It had been ground up and practically liquified so that it could be fed to him over his difficulty swallowing, but there was no mistaking what Grant saw beneath his microscope.

"Veronica...!" He hissed and began pulling off his gloves throwing them aside, not even bothering to remove his apron. Quickly adorning his coat and grabbing his rifle and satchel, he ran out the door into the cold night, nearly losing his footing as he leapt off the stairs and into the snowy street, startling a couple who were walking by.

"I beg your pardon, good sir," the male fox of the couple said. "That was most uncouth."

Grant looked at them, fumbling with his words as he noted the sickly look on the face of the female of the two, realizing that she looked much like Victor -pale, twitching, delirious. "I-I-I apologize," he said, before shaking off his nervousness and taking a more serious tone as he addressed the male again. "Can you direct me to the residence of Alfred Simard?"

"Of course, sir," he returned, pointing up the street. "It's the house tucked away in the corner there, before the turn."

Grant meant to say thank you, but he was too frantic to even form the words -he had to find Veronica and get out of here, to get her away from these _people_as soon as possible. He broke into another run, leaving the two staring after him with displeasure at his lack of manners.

He did not look back at them.

Alfred finally looked up after his momentary silence, looking at Veronica. "In the end, I feel I am sure I made the right choice, though I regret it at times. But Evelyn lives on for it."

"The town seems to be pretty prosperous all things considered." She pointed out. "What's your secret? How do you keep this place going?"

"Perhaps one day, I will tell you," Alfred return, smirking mischievously at her. "If you... stay a while."

She jerked her head back a little at his suggestion. "You want me to spend a night here?" She asked inquisitively. "Well...I mean, sure this place looks alright, but..."

Three, heavy, consecutive footsteps split the silence of the room, and the door was nearly broken off its hinges as a large figure rammed into it, sending it flying open with an ear-splitting bang! Both Veronica and Alfred started, turning to see who had run into the door, and saw, to their combined surprise, that it was Grant, rifle in hand and panting for breath.

"Holy!" Ron cried out in shock, only to breathe a sigh of relief when she recognized who just crashed into the room. "Jeez, Grant. Next time give me a heads up before you start bringing...." She halted her scolding when she saw the look in his eyes and his rifle aimed at them, her scowl was quickly replaced with confusion. "...You uh...you alright there, Bucko? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"Ron... step away from him, now," Grant practically commanded her, an intense glare fixed upon Alfred as he stared down his gunsights.

"Mr. Grant, I do not know what I have done to offend you so," Alfred began, taking a step forward, only to freeze as Grant pulled back the bolt on his gun, chambering a round.

"Don't even try it, Simard," he warned coldly. "Back against the wall, or I paint it with your organs."

Alfred compliantly put up his hands and backed away. Veronica, however, didn't, shocked by this behavior from her mentor. Grant was harsh at times but _far_from being capable of cold-blooded murder.

She practically marched up toward him and tugged at his arm, but it was as unyielding as stone. "The fuck's gotten into you Grant?" She demanded firmly. "Why the sudden itchy trigger finger?" She looked down, seeing the apron beneath his coat and the stains on it. "Grant... why are you covered in blood?"

"Ron, he's not what he says he is," Grant stated firmly. "None of these people are. I've identified the illness, and there's only one known way any of them could've caught it."

"Mr. Grant... you were brought here to cure us, not kill us," Alfred stated, before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. The reserved tone left his voice, turning cold. "...Where is Victor -what have you done with him?"

"He succumbed to the illness," replied Grant. "Just as all of you _freaks_will!"

"What're you talking about?" Alfred asked.

"Your symptoms, the virus -or disease I should say... I _know_what you are, Simard," he stated. "I wondered why there were only foxes in this town. Probably thought you could avoid the health complications if you only went after people of other racial origins, didn't you? Well it doesn't work that way!"

"Whoa, whoa SLOW the fuck down here!" Veronica exclaimed, spreading her arms out and waving them back and forth a bit. "Can I get a simple explanation here because I am about as confused as a headless chicken!"

"Alfred and the people of Evelyn are cannibals, Ron!" Grant blurted outright.

Her heart skipped a beat, a lump forming in her throat as her eyes widened. "What?!" She demanded in a hoarse whisper, looking back to Alfred, then back to Grant and then Alfred again. "How... how do you know?" She asked, directing the question at Grant.

"The disease is called Kuru -or Shaking Death -it's only contracted by consuming brain matter. Particularly, brains carrying the genetic mutation that gave all anthropian life sapience. If for any reason that brain matter becomes tainted, by infection or otherwise, consuming it causes the one eating the brain to contract the disease. There's only been one outbreak in history -New Guinea, in the 1950's, contracted by the populace who devoured their dead ritualistically."

Alfred stared in silence at Grant, his expression darkening, but unyielding as he met the buck's glare, Grant never taking his rifle off of him. Meanwhile, Veronica was left to process Grant's words -to slowly understand what they meant, and how they were relevant to what Alfred had been saying before...

Her eyes widened a little as something clicked in her brain. She turned back toward Alfred and began to frown back at him. "...Wait..." She began, narrowing her eyes dangerously at the fox. "Those sacrifices you mentioned before...where you said you wished you could have found another way around them," she went on, her hand slowly moving toward her holster. "If what Grant's saying is true, then you literally _ate_people so that you could continue to live?"

Alfred lowered his gaze, his eyes dropping to the floor as she waited for his answer. But her patience wore thin, her mind reeling from what she had heard and demanding an explanation. Without a moment's hesitation, she quickly pulled out her sidearm and pulled the hammer back, taking aim at Alfred alongside Grant. "Answer the fucking question, Shitstain!! Did you eat other people?!"

He elevated his gaze at last, meeting hers. "As I said... there are things I wish I could've done differently, Miss Shepard."

"...So it's true then." She said as her scowl contorted into a look of unrelenting anger. "Tell me something, Alfie...were you planning to do the same to me? Infect me with this little disease and make me a part of your little cult?" She asked in a spiteful tone. "Was your gentlemanly demeanour all a ruse just to make me drop my guard?"

"No! God almighty, no," Alfred returned angrily. "I never intended to make you a sacrifice, nor to do anything you were unwilling to -least of all consume the flesh of sapient beings! I knew how you would react if I told you the truth, but you must understand -we were dying, Veronica! Day by day, men, women and children, starving and freezing!" He grit his teeth. "I didn't want to do it -I didn't want to do any of it, but what choice did we have? We couldn't hunt, we had no money -we had nothing!"

Veronica's frown lightened a little and she lowered her gun just a bit, studying Alfred's demeanour and determining whether to believe his story. The way he blurted out so defensively could have meant he was either lying or telling the truth but listening to how passionate his words sounded...She started to wonder if he really didn't mean any harm, and only wanted to save his people. "...You truthfully only brought us here in order to find some way to treat this illness your people have?" She asked after a long silence. "No foul play? Nothing?"

"Yes, Veronica -you must believe me," Alfred spoke with a pleading tone, folding his hands together as if to bed.

Then her eyes drifted to the plate sitting on the coffee table... the plate with the bits of jerky that Alfred had been digging into so joyfully throughout their conversation. Grant said nothing, though he knew where she was looking -he was letting her connect the dots herself, driving her to trust her instincts.

"...If that's the case, then why did you offer me that jerky?" She asked him suddenly, frowning again and lifting her pistol back up to aim at his head. "...When you knew it was infected brains that carried the disease?"

"I didn't know that it was infected! I...!" But then Alfred paused, realizing that she had just cornered him, eyes widening with horror as his deception was made clear.

"You may not have known about the meat being infected, but you did intend to turn me into one of you, else you wouldn't have offered me to stay the night here with you." She went on, her hand drifting to the grip of her pistol. "...You disgust me, shitstain. I actually thought you were a decent person, all things considered."

"It's not too late to change though!" Alfred protested, looking at Grant. "Mr. Grant, I brought you here to treat us -you can save us! We can change-truly we can!"

"It's too late, Alfred," returned Grant. "Kuru has no cure. Further outbreaks were prevented by banning the practice of cannibalism in New Guinea -it never emerged again after that, until now. There was no need to develop a cure."

"You're lying!" Alfred exclaimed. "You're a doctor -you can treat us!"

Grant made no reply. Veronica could see he was genuinely apologetic, despite his disgust towards Alfred, and the male fox could see it as well, however much it infuriated him. He knew Grant was telling the truth, even though the part of him that wished to live on would always deny it. Alfred's face lowered again, his head falling over his eyes and shadowing them as he stood, trembling with anger.

A long silence filled the room for a time, until Alfred elevated his gaze to look at them again, his expression no longer carrying the demeanour of the well-mannered man he had been since their first meeting. A savage mind seemed to have taken over, and he was nearly frothing at the mouth as he bared his teeth at them. "Damn you to hell!" He screamed, charging from the wall to run at them.

Grant and Veronica's guns both fired simultaneously.

Alfred fell like a ragdoll to the floor, his breathing coming in laboured gasps as blood pooled forth from the gunshot wounds in his chest, until he went completely still with his face lying on the wooden floor, sparing Veronica the fate of looking at his cold, dead face. But not sparing her the sick feeling that rose from her core...

She lowered her pistol slowly, her hands trembling as the realization started to set in. Veronica could only stare at the cold, lifeless body that was Alfred in complete silence for so long before she eventually turned away, holstered her gun, and lifted her trembling hands up closer to her face. Her breathing started to become short and erratic, once or twice trying to say something out loud, only for the words to get caught in her throat. "Oh god..." She managed to whimper.

Grant looked at her, seeing her distress. "Ron," he said softly, looping his rifle over his shoulder before he took hold of Veronica's and turned her to him, meeting her gaze. "Keep it together, Ron -speak to me. Did you eat _any_of that meat?" He took one hand from her and pointed at the plate with the jerky that Alfred had offered her.

"N-No..." She answered quickly. "He offered me some, but I declined...I only had water, that's it." She added, clenching her eyes shut as she struggled to keep her composure. "Oh fucking Christ -I could have-!"

"Don't lose your head on me now, vault dweller," the buck said harshly, shaking her and making her meet his gaze, showing her that steely, unwavering determination to survive in his eyes. Overtime, she saw it soften shortly before he spoke again. "We're leaving Evelyn, right now."

Veronica took a moment, sucking in a very deep breath before letting it out as slowly as she could. She then nodded slowly in return and began to turn toward the door. "Good... the sooner we leave, the better..." She said in a low tone.

Grant shifted the strap of his rifle over his chest and kept a hand on her shoulder as they made their way to the door, making sure that she couldn't look back at Alfred's body if she made any attempt. As they passed the front door, Grant reached into Alfred's hanging coat and taking the .45 caliber pistol and any spare ammunition it held. Veronica voiced no protest, and they stepped out into the winter air, the cold finding their bodies once more.

She he felt him bring her to a stop, and elevated her gaze again but only slightly, seeing a crowd gathered outside of the house. The townsfolk, some of whom still looked healthy to her eyes, but she could see that the majority were already experiencing the symptoms of the Kuru disease -shaking, delirious, involuntary muscle twitches and so on.

If Grant was right, their death clocks were already counting down.

One of the healthier ones stepped forward. "We heard gunfire -what happened in there?" The male fox demanded. "Where is Mr. Simard?"

"Where he belongs," Grant retorted, reaching into his pocket and taking a second to confirming none of the townsfolk were armed before drawing the commandeered .45 from within. "And I'll send any one of you to join him if you get in our way."

"What is the meaning of this?!" One demanded.

"Is that Mr. Simard's gun?!" Another asked.

"Move!" Grant shouted.

"You were brought here to treat us!" Another citizen protested.

"I can't treat you! You've all been infected with an illness called Kuru, and it has no cure! Now get out of our way!"

They stayed where they were for a moment -he fired a shot into the middle of the mob, missing purposely but successfully causing them to scatter. Briskly he led Veronica through the parted crowd, the pistol still held in his hand with a finger on the trigger. Her paw hovered near her own pistol, but she did not draw it. Fortunately she did not have to, for none in the crowd were brave enough to risk the buck's response. They cleared the mob, but he did not look away from them, letting Veronica lead them on toward the town gates.

"I see any of you following us, I'll send you to hell!" He shouted in warning, keeping the gun raised until they had passed out of sight of the townsfolk.

Then, he and Veronica left Evelyn with haste, caring not for the dark of the night or the possibility of wicked creatures prowling -they wanted to get as far away from that wretched town as possible and back safely to their home on Grouse Mountain. One of the townsfolk took that moment to run into the house, discovering the body of one of their own lying in a pool of his own blood. Yet, neither Veronica or Grant heard any screams to announce the discovery.

Somehow, that only made them walk faster...

~~~~~

Two hours later, back in Grousetown...

"I... have not been this much at a loss for words, since that bomb fell and I saw my reflection for the first time," Marv stated as the two finished recalling the events of the day and what happened in Evelyn to the Ghoul-cat. He shook his head in disgust, taking a sip of a beer he held in his hand. "They were cannibals? And people call me a fucking zombie?"

"Yea well... at least you don't go around eating living flesh," Ron stated absently as she idly swirled the water in her glass, staring at it with no expression to betray her thoughts, though under the surface she was sick to her stomach. "Real fucked up part was...the guy seemed like a decent enough person. I actually kind of liked him..." Even admitting it made Veronica feel queasy.

"Sometimes, when we meet someone, they may not be who we think they are," Grant stated, nursing a glass of scotch in his hand. "Desperation drives people to do many things -that much, I suppose I can understand, though I can't say it justifies his actions." He took a swig of the scotch.

"Does a whole town deserve to die for it, though?" Marv asked. "I mean, come on, Grant."

"There's nothing I can do for them," returned Grant, not unkindly in how he spoke. "Kuru was never cured, only prevented from spreading further. Once it starts, it can't be stopped." He sighed. "One year, at most, everyone in that town will be dead... Everyone who consumed the infected brain matter will die perish. Nothing can stop that now, and I'm not about to give them false hope. They don't deserve it."

The buck took a long drink of his scotch, downing the entire glass this time, his eyes clenching as it burned its way down his throat and shaking his head vigorously. Veronica replayed Grant's words in her mind, her grip on her glass tightening as her stomach twisted so painfully she feared she would vomit, but her stomach was empty -she had not eaten for hours. She couldn't eat... Everytime she thought of food, she thought of the jerky Alfred had offered her, and how close she had been... to becoming another doomed freak of the town of Evelyn...

She rose from her seat, excusing herself and making a beeline for the stairs. She could think of nothing else to do but sleep, and though she feared what her dreams might bring, she did not care. She was tired and hurting -she had not felt so miserable since the day she had left the vault. Even the riot before her departure and the madness of the overseer did not disgust her as much as the people of Evelyn, and she silently wished that the memory of them could be erased from her mind.

Sadly, she was not so fortunate.

The door to the inn flew open and she stopped, standing at the first step of the staircase, foot halfway to being placed on the first step. She did not turn around until she heard Grant cocking his rifle. Her stomach twisted once again as she saw seven male foxes filing into the inn, each carrying poor condition but still dangerous blades in their hands, ranging from machetes to common kitchen knives, spreading out menacing and blocking the door. She recognized them as residents from Evelyn, and despite the rifle aimed at them, they did not relent, their eyes on Grant.

"You're coming with us, buck," the lead fox said.

"I told you, there is no treatment for you!" Grant bellowed. "Go home, and make use of what time you have left!"

"You're going to treat us," the lead fox said, a dangerous look in his eyes as he raised his machete to a strike-ready position. He had that same look -the same savage ferocity that had been on Alfred's face before he died. He was furious, desperate -dangerous. "And you'll cure us, or you're going to be our next meal."

The vixen's ears twitched, her body went rigid for a moment as the events that took place in Evelyn flashed before her eyes again, a heat rising from within her core that had her baring her teeth as her hand closed around the grip of her gun. Without a second thought, she drew her pistol and spun a full one hundred eighty degrees, pulling the hammer back on her gun and firing at the fox. The bullet struck the blade of his weapon, snapping the blade in two and causing him to yelp and release it, the two halves clattering to the floor.

Veronica's expression was pure rage. "...Get the fuck out of my town, you brain munching shitstains...Or I'll send you back to Evelyn in fucking body bags for the rest of your kin to munch on," she spoke with venom in her voice.

"You'll regret that one, bitch!" The disarmed fox yelled. "I'll be sure to enjoy you while you're still alive!"

Grant's rifle split the air, and the offending fox, eyes wide, fell to the floor with blood seeping from an open wound in his skull, dead before he hit the floor, his companions staring in shock as their leader collapsed.

"Over my dead body," Grant growled, cocking the rifle and chambering his second bullet.

The foxes yowled in anger, charging into the establishment. Four made a beeline for Grant, two at Veronica. Grant's rifle fired again, sending another one reeling to the floor with blood pouring forth from his chest. Marv reached behind his bar counter, and brought his hands back out bearing a pair of double-barreled firearms. He fired one at the fox that was next to approach Grant, a spray of buckshot perforating the fox's body in multiple places, then turned the gun in his other hand on the next that made a lunge for the Ghoul-Cat, yielding similar results.

Only one remained, charging at the buck. Grant had no time to chamber his next round and moved instead to bludgeon the fox with the stock of his rifle. The fox ducked, trying to stab the buck with his knife, but the dull blade did not pierce the quilted leather vest Grant wore under his jacket, and the rusty blade snapped. The fox dropped his brokenknife and grabbed Grant's gun, the two fighting for control of the weapon as they wrestled and shuffled about, trying to rob the other of his balance.

As for Veronica, the first fox was only two long strides away from her before she put three rounds into his body. One on the neck, two in the chest. She turned her gun on the second, but he was too close. He swung his knife, hitting her pistol and sending it from her hands, and then made a backhand swing at her belly. She moved back, hearing fabric tear as the chip in his blade caught her suit and ripped it, but the blade was too dull to cut all the way through to the soft flesh.

Veronica drew her baton, flicking it out to extend it before the fox swung at her again. She parried the first strike away, allowing her to knee the fox square in the solar plexus. When he came in for another strike, she backed up into the wall behind her, letting him run at her and try to stab. She banked right, the knife burying itself into the wall. She struck him in the head with her weapon, sending him careening to the floor with stars dancing across his eyes.

Veronica used the seconds she had won to retrieve her pistol, aiming it at the male fox with a murderous look in her eyes. "Last chance; get out of my town, mother fucker!!" She roared at him angrily. "Next one's going through your brain if you don't leave right now!"

"I'm dead anyway if I don't get treatment so save me your threats!" He shouted before he lunged for her again.

True to her word, Veronica fired again. A hole appeared between the foxes' eyes, head snapping backward before the body pitched forward, hitting the floor noisily. Veronica turned towards Grant and Marv, wondering if they might need her help. But the buck had a handle on the situation. He had managed to throw his attacker off balance, and with a sharp twist of his body focusing all the strength in his hips and back muscles, he sent the fox flying through the nearest window.

The fox rose again a moment later, intent on climbing back in to resume the fight, but another shot from one of Marv's sawn-off shotguns finished him, and he fell back into the snow with barely a sound to mark his fall.

Marv set down his two guns and turned in Veronica's direction. "You alright, furs?" He called.

She let out a huff and holstered her pistol back on her belt. "Yea. Not so much as a scratch on me." She returned with a small grin. "What about you two?"

"Never got near me," Marv returned.

"I'm alright too," Grant confirmed. "He tried to bite me, but my coat held. Crazy bastard."

"Nice." Ron said with a nod, then looked down at the bodies around them, snorting in disgust. "...Whatever pity I had for these guys before, consider it gone...That being said, I did not enjoy that one bit."

"That means you still have a conscience," Grant stated, setting his rifle on the counter. "That's never a bad thing to have, even out here -though some might say otherwise."

Marv let out an annoyed grunt as he returned his guns to their hiding place behind his counter. "To think they'd follow you all the way here, just to try and force you to treat them. Desperate, if futile," he scoffed. "Well, they dug their own graves, both when they chose to eat other people, and when they tried to raise hell in my bar."

"Fucking A," stated Grant, his tone somber. "What should we do with the bodies?"

"If I had seen any for the last two hundred years, I'd say leave 'em for the crows," Marv returned in a mild jest. "But lacking that, I say burn 'em. Don't want that Kuru virus getting into the wildlife if they come to feed on the corpses." He looked at Grant. "...Does it infect non-sapient animals?"

"I have no idea," replied Grant with a half-hearted shake of his head. "But it's not worth the risk."

"Amen to that..." Ron agreed, already kneeling next to the fox she shot in the head, grabbing him by his legs and dragging him toward the door. "You boys going stand there and gawk, or you going to give me a hand here?" She asked in her usual cynical manner as she went outside with the body.

The two men scoffed but gave weak smiles, glad to see Veronica was back to her old self already. They began hauling the bodies out of the bar, each one taking their own and dragging them a safe distance from the buildings to pile them up near the cliff. They made a second trip for the rest, Grant going behind the inn to get the one he had thrown out the window while Veronica retrieved another from inside, and Marv went around back to his storage shed.

When the bodies were piled up on the cliff, Marv rejoined them, carrying a jerry can of gasoline and a book of matches. He emptied the gas can over the corpses, and Grant struck a match, dropping it onto the bodies and retreated as the gas ignited. With that, they left the corpses to burn and went back inside. The last sounds from within the inn being Grant nailing boards to the wall to seal the window he had destroyed in the fight, and casual talk between Marv and Veronica as they forced the incident from their minds...

Even in this time and place where morality is a luxury, and where fighting for one's survival is an everyday occurrence, there still exist lines that should never be crossed. A harsh lesson for the people of Evelyn, but a warning to all who might follow their example. If wasteland justice does not find you, nature may deal out her own justice instead...