Scott wasn't out for long; only maybe about fifteen minutes. The impact to his head had been fairly severe, but duraframe armor had helped greatly in mitigating the blunt force. He blearily rolled awake, the light pouring in from the hole he had made in the wall stinging his eyes. He immediately wondered why he smelled dust and decay, rather than the clean, filtered air his helmet provided him. His eyes were still bleary, but he saw a silhouette in front of him. He instinctively reached for his sidearm, but upon hearing a rifle being charged, he stopped at blinked a few times to get a better look. There was a girl in front of him, casually pointing her rifle at Scott's face. She seemed quite young and a bit on the small side, but her relaxed posture and dust-streaked face and clothes outed her as an experienced wastelander. She wouldn't give a damn if she had to blow Scott away right here and now. Hell, she could probably make a killing off of his weapons and armor. He had to be careful about this if he wanted to get out alive. Oh, but [i]damn[/i] did his head hurt. He gritted his teeth and squinted, trying to keep his sight focused on the girl despite his swimming head.

Lifting up his other hand, he slowly reached with his left into a small pocket on his armor. Very careful to not make any sudden movements, he unbuckled the pouch and produced a sheet of white cloth, somewhat larger than a piece of paper. He unfolded the cloth, showing to the girl the [url=http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/fallout/images/7/7c/USA_Flag_Pre-War.png/revision/latest?cb=20140626091623]American flag[/url] emblazoned on it, as well as several [url=http://www.hughcox.com/blood_chit_complete_compressed.jpg]paragraphs of text[/url] in various languages.

Trying out his own voice, Scott croaked, "You know what this is?" He coughed, the dust in the air thick on his tongue and harsh on his throat. "It's called a blood chit. You get me back to my people, and you'll be rewarded. Handsomely."

Scott kept perfectly still, one hand in the air and the other holding the blood chit aloft. He continued to squint at the girl, as his mind raced. Where was his helmet? What was the condition of the rest of his armor? Where was his squad? How many were alive? There was so much that worried him, and the last thing he needed was some scavenger thinking that it was their lucky day.