An Arctic Wolf on the Prowl [Under Planning]

Alec snatched up his rifle, placing his sidearm back in its holster. He drew a bead on the nearest ghoul and squeezed the trigger with the tip of his index finger. One figure tumbled down the hill, a flurry of flailing limbs and a spatter of blood. Another went down when Coyote put a shot through one’s neck. Alec sighted on the last one and squeezed again. This one continued to come at them. Coyote put a round in it. It was still unaffected.

Alec yelled out “we call these Reaver’s, look out. He loves to throw entrails!”

The Knight Sergeant advanced, hearing yet another shot impact the disfigured, steaming figure walking towards him. Alec shot the ghoul with several more trigger pulls. He saw the thing reach into its own abdomen and retrieve, with a sickening sucking noise, a small fistful of faintly glowing gore. Alec moved to the side as the ghoul chunked the glowing mass at him. It passed harmlessly past the Knight and through a signpost into a snow bank that quickly melted to slurry.

Alec put more rounds on the target, all solid hits, and yet it continued to fight. It lunged at the soldier and was rewarded with a ferocious blow with the butt of his rifle. Alec’s audio emitters released a harsh burst of static as Alec roared in frustration.

The ghoul rose once more, one of its arms hanging limp from its shoulder. Alec drew his blade and met the monster’s charge. He plucked the ghoul out of the air with a gauntleted fist and slammed it to the ground in one swift motion.

Alec jammed the blade into its eye socket, he withdrew the blade and with his left leg, held the monster’s groping arm down. It raked its claws against Alec’s armor, to no avail. The Knight Sergeant drew his side arm and emptied the whole magazine into its screaming visage. Finally, with a shudder, it died, a faint aura of steam rising from its corpse, as if burning from within. It had felt good to take the fight to the enemy for once, the Knight decided.

Mark had watched the whole affair from afar. He was leaning against an wrecked Corvega, carefully sharpening one of his scalpels with a whetstone. He examined the blade carefully, and appeared...satisfied. He had found satchel the previous day, which was perfect for his needs, and he slid the scalpel and stone into it. Putting the strap over his head onto his shoulder, Mark decided it was time to reveal himself.

One of them wore Power Armour, and was obviously brotherhood. The old man was definitely a wasteland we, and of no interest to him. The third man, however...Mark was unsure about. He had the dress and appearance of a wanderer, and yet his combat skills and method of calling out threats showed he had had some military training. These were definitely possibilities for the Storm Troopers...And if not...

Das Metzger pulled the Meat Cleaver from his satchel, and ran his thumb edge along the blade. When he saw the trickle of blood, he smiled.

Alec shook the filth off his armor and stood up. As he did so, he noticed a particularly angular man emerging from behind an old burnt out car. He walked backwards, slowly, towards the overpass and said over his shoulder

“Old man, get behind me. Now!”

Alec looked at Coyote and noted that the harsh bark in his own voice has set Sparks on edge, he was not used to hearing Alec emote very much. Alec was livid. He knew who the man approaching them was, Mark Aussenhiemer, a former Brotherhood of Steel doctor who had been disbarred after the mutilation and death of a young initiate and the disfiguring of some of Alec’s brethren.

“Aussenhiemer.”

Alec spat the name as if it were a foul curse. Such vehemence shocked the old hunter and even Coyote arched a brow. Alec drew his sidearm and pointed it at the man.

“This psychopath has been in need of a ballistic lobotomy for many years. To think, the Brotherhood even let this monster back in after what he did to our Brothers, even his own father. You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here. The only reason I don’t fill your brainpan with lead is because Lyons wants the pleasure for himself. Why are you here you sick fuck?”

Mark gave the power-suited man a glance similar to one a person would give an insect stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Knight Sergeant Alec Vasmith, it has been a while" He frowned slightly at the description of his...exploits. "I do not remember seeing you around in the bandit camp, Vasmith. You know nothing. And I think, considering the amount of bullets I pulled out of you, I am owed a bit of respect".

"As to what I am doing here...I may seem like some freak, or animalistic monster to you. My urges and desires, however, are quite human. I came here seeking warmth, light and company. I do not much like being around weaklings as you know full well, but human's are social creatures, and I would be...inefficient if i was deprived of a basic human necessity."

"I can believe that you would want me unarmed. I am going to reach into my pocket, withdraw my pistol and throw it to you. Yes?"

“Coyote, I'll handle him.”

“Aussenheimer, I was not at the camp, you’re correct. It’s your actions after the fact that I base my views of you on. I saw what you did to Initiate Scarborough, I was one of the ones that carried his mutilated corpse to the incinerator. Weakness, was it Mark? It takes a lot of strength to kill an eighteen year old with appendicitis, doesn’t it? You talk about weakness, I consider it a weakness to believe one’s self to be superior to others around them, to believe one’s self the decider of who has the right to live or die, to be so far removed from their own sense of humanity that people’s feelings, thoughts and desires are nothing more than logic, fact, and numbers to be studied and exterminated should their usefulness reach an end.”

The Knight Sergeant’s voice was level and cold, like a still artic air.

“And as for the number of bullets you pulled out of me and the number of burns, breaks, lesions, contusions, and whatever the fuck else I got while out fighting that you fixed, and any respect that I am required to afford you for it? That died with Initiate Scarborough, and that died with Knight Dannick, who as a result of your escape received a severed jugular from a well-used scalpel. Your needs and wants and desires for being here are truly quite touching, but frankly, I do not care. You were supposed to be one of us, a Brother and you betrayed our trust as a result of your depravity. Your weakness is that you did not have the good grace to die in that camp.”

Alec lowered his pistol and holstered it. The Knight Sergeant shook his head and looked at Mark. "If you so much as looks at me wrong, I’ll put a bullet in you.”

Alec was disgusted to let Aussenheimer off with just words but true to Brotherhood ideals instilled in the Sergeant the ability to be magnanimous held sway over the Knight Sergeant, even in this predicament.

Alec thought about the doctor for a moment, a man who spent his time in exile of his own making. Of course, many could compare what Alec did to self-created exile. But he was under direct command of Star Paladin Lacriox, who sent him on secretive missions, such as the one he was on now. It didn’t matter, The Knight Sergeant decided, what mattered was what they were going to do next.

Figures from his past seemed to be everywhere today.

He was half-aware the Vasmith was talking to him, but it was a speech he had heard a thousand times from different lips, he cared little for it. He had ruled Alec out for a subject for turning after the look he had given Mark when they had first met.

Alec turned and walked back under the overpass.
He was tired of this sudden onslaught of people appearing, seemingly at random. Now he and Sparks had four other souls… well three, Alec thought, amused at his own dark humor. The Knight Sergeant began to sit down, but Alec had a sudden thought.

“What has gotten into me? I'm not heartless. I’ve always been kind and compassionate.”

Alec turned the cuff that sealed his helmet to the rest of his armor and then removed the helm. he spoke quietly to himself “You saw what he did to Scarborough. He left that initiate a mess. I have no sympathy for someone who can explain that away. I have sympathy for what happened to him and what he had to do. But no. I do not sympathize with him. There is a difference.”

Alec sat down with his back to the supports of the overpass, his power supply scraping audibly against the time-worn stone. He sighed and put his helmet back on.

The return of his Brothers had not been as pleasant as he expected. He already grew weary of the tension in the air. Coyote was more volatile than The Knight Sergeant; he didn’t know how long Sparks would last before he put a bullet in someone. Alec knew he’d have to watch his friend. Alec thought for a moment unless of course… he shot Mark. Then maybe I’d forget to stop him.

Alec shook his head. He did not like where his thoughts had led. He was not a butcher or a murderer, though some of the wasteland monsters may disagree, wanting Mark dead so badly was unhealthy. The man was here to stay. He would just keep a watch on him as well.