What Tommy stumbled onto was clearly the ass end of an interesting encounter, a once proud and fiercely feared Death claw lay in a growing puddle of it's own blood, its limbs all blown to hell and jagged bit of wood sticking out of its head.[i]  How's that for modern art? Ha! [/i] Leaning on the wall beside him, Thomas slowly lifted himself to his feet only swaying for a few seconds before gaining his composure, steadily he looked down his rifles sights to search out what had done the beast in, much to his surprise he found a small boy firmly planted on his ass among the rubble. [i] This has gotta be the luckiest little shit in the entire wasteland, maybe I should ask him for a lock of hair for good luck, that wouldn't be weird right? No, that'd definitely be fucking weird. [/i] He thought with a grimace, shaking his head to clear out his drunken internal ramblings.

"Hey! Hey kid." He called out, lowering his rifle to cradle it in his arms. "You alright?" He asked in addition, waving a free arm to draw the lads attention. It was just then that he noticed the old fellow the lad was seemingly sat on top of. [i] Of course the boy couldn't have done it alone you idiot, hell you heard shots from a lazer rifle and the boy clearly only possesses a pistol, the bloody thing is still holstered at his hip.[/i]

Tommy felt his hand sliding down the well worn contours of his rifle to rest at the trigger, his finger hovering over it before he made a mental effort to pull it back away, if there were others, any hostile moves might result in his end. All of a sudden a crash came from a nearby building, followed by the gentle chiming of broken glass raining down, before he even knew what it was Tommy had whipped his rifle around and fired a shot that splintered the wooden globe, that came hurling out, into a hundred pieces. [i] Fuck me, let's hope 12 bullets is a lucky number.[/i]