[center][b]Elysia Sykes[/b][/center]

The woman stared at the man while he pleaded with her. Deep down, she felt a modicum of pity for this guy. After all, his squad had presumably all died, he most likely had a killer headache and now he sat at the mercy of some random wastelander. Although, on the other hand, she didn’t really care much for this guy. She looked at the piece of cloth with intrigue.

Of course, she knew she had no real obligation to the Enclave or any remnant of the U.S. government, for that matter. This was the Wasteland, the Graveyard, the governments of the world had fallen, this wasn’t the old way of living anymore; this wasn’t the old existence, this was existence 2.0. It frustrated her a little how out of touch this man was with the Wasteland. [i]Why didn’t he understand that the Enclave were hated here, they were the bad guys throughout the Wasteland,[/i] she thought. [i]This guy should be groveling at her feet, pleading for her not to kill him.[/i] Yet she still felt some empathy to help him, some calling to help this poor soldier out. After all, she didn’t hate the Enclave that much. Sure, they had done a few wrong things, but she kept out of their way and they were rather successful in their killings of the Wasteland’s mutants.

The woman wondered what compensation she could get for returning this guy back to his base. Perhaps she could get a substantial amount of caps or some cool weaponry or maybe even a Vertibird. However, her enthusiasm was soon silenced by a surge of skepticism. After all, they could just as easily give her a bullet to the head or enslave her, which would probably be much easier, especially considering she held one of their men at gunpoint. She silently weighed her options as the man stared at her, holding his precious piece of cloth in front of him.

Finally, she relented. There was no real use for this kind of man, especially considering his background. A high and mighty Enclave soldier would never be an obedient slave. Heck, she would probably have an easier time asking one of those cucks from the Brotherhood. Neither would he be a good bodyguard. If anything, giving this man a gun and her trust would be tantamount to offering herself as a hostage. She also really didn’t like the idea of killing or robbing him, both would probably weigh her down and would lead to his death either way. No, she figured the best option would probably be to help him out. [i]After all[/i], she thought sarcastically, [i]it was the least she could do for this brave soldier of the United States.[/i]

“All right, get up, get up,” she commanded, her balaclava only slightly altering the sound of her voice, “I’ll take you to your comrades, but I’m keeping your helmet; I’ll need a clear shot of your head if we’re to be wandering around together.”

The woman got out her seat, her rifle still aimed at the man’s head as she waited for him to stand up. She heard the faint sound of a Vertibird as it flew through the sky above, she hoped that this guy wouldn’t get any bright ideas if he happened to hear it.

“By the way, my name's Elysia, what’s yours?” she asked, her politeness partially corrupted by the fact that she still had this man at gunpoint.