[hr][center][color=bc8dbf][h1]Frankie Cabrera[/h1][/color][/center][hr]
[b][ One Year Ago. ] ----------------------[/b]

“He hurt you, Frankie.” The older boy -by just a few months- said, doing his best to assist the young medic who was already wrist-deep in blood. “So why bother even pulling that bullet out of him?.” The kid shook his head, his hushed voice seemingly cold as he held a bloodied scalpel that was just used to slice a small incision into the unconscious patient. “Just let him die and be done with it!” 

“Shhh!” The other intervened, realizing that one of the raider guards posted just outside the small impromptu infirmary would have probably heard the boy’s comments. “Just pay attention to the task.” Frankie whispered, calm and cool, while continuing to maintain focus on removing pieces of a bullet casing from the torso of the large man laying unmoving on the table. “I don’t need anymore flack from these jerks than what I've already had to experience in the last few months of being in this hell hole, okay?”

“Fine.” The other protested. “But if I had the opportunity to just let one of these low lifes bleed out, I'd take it.”

“Which is why I'm [i]here[/i] and you're there, Sammie.” The girl said with a smirk, trying to ease the tension in the air, before dropping the last few pieces of metal fragments into a small container before cleaning around the wound to stitch it up.“ Besides, how would exacting revenge on one of these monsters make me any different than them? How could I ever consider myself a medical professional if I can't bring myself to heal everyone?”

The boy opened his mouth as though he were about to say something, but immediately froze as the patient grunted and began to come around from whatever lackluster anesthetic was administered to him earlier. Just like everything else in the encampment, medical supplies were becoming scarce.

“Hey big guy.” Frankie said in a smooth tone, glancing over at the bearded face of the muscular tanned-skin raider as he blinked his eyes a few times. She could feel his body tensing, wanting to sit up. “I need you to keep still for a few more minutes. Can you do that for me?”

“Where am I?” The man grumbled, raising a hand to the substantial black and blue welt on his forehead.

“You're home.” The medic said with a grin and a sigh. “For what’s it’s worth anyway.” She shrugged, pulling the needle and thread from her medical bag. “Anyway, I applied some topical anesthesia, so it’ll numb the area a bit while I patch you up, but I’ll need you to stop squirming.”

The raider saw the needle and his eyes widened for a moment before switching his attention to the boy who was standing nervously on the other side of Frankie still holding the scalpel as though he was [i]almost[/i] ready to use it against the madman. “You know you might learn a thing or two from this little girl.” He let out a guttural chuckle before feeling the slap of a hand against his bare chest.

“Stop moving or this is gonna take way longer than it needs.” Frankie hissed, continuing to penetrate the skin and fish the thread through slowly. 

 “Sorry…” The large man mumbled, staring back over at the boy and narrowing his eyes. 

A few moments of silence passed until the patient once again spoke up, allowing a deep breath to release beforehand. “And...Thank you.” He grunted. “I know I was a prick earlier.” His eyes grazed over the bruise on the side of Frankie’s face, a bruise he’d given to her out of purely uncontrolled rage. “There was no reason for the-”

“It’s fine.” The medic said flatly, working half way through the two-inch wound, her mind keeping laser-focused, if for no other reason, to keep from jabbing the raider in the eye with a knife. “I do what I need to do. Just like everyone here.”

“You were right, too” The man continued, laying as still as he could while staring up at the ceiling. “Revenge makes us all monsters.”

Frankie smirked and the boy next to her gasped in surprise as he realized that the man was apparently not completely unconscious during the earlier exchange of words. [i]“Wha…?”[/i]

“Yeah, that’s right. I heard what you said, boy.” The man said in a low growl, still maintaining his attention on the ceiling. “And she’s got a bigger set of balls on her than you would any day, that’s for damn sure.”

“Please shut up. Both of you.” Frankie shook her head as she wiped some sweat from her brow and continued the delicate work of stitching up her patient. 

[b][ Present Day. ] ----------------------[/b]

To say she was terrified of the deathclaws would be an understatement, but to admit to it wouldn’t really help anyone else in the group feel better. So she kept her wits about, realizing that she’d been in worse predicaments where her life would be forfeit at the drop of a hat. It seemed that enough time living in the wasteland reminded a person that life was more precious -or perhaps not, from a certain perspective- than anything else on the planet, but sometimes Frankie felt helpless to be of any use. A bystander in a bloody war, sitting on the sidelines waiting for each soldier to fall victim to whatever was being thrown at them.

It sucked, to say the least, however, what else was she to do but to wait and hope that she could live long enough to be of some use?

The shriek that the dragon-like creature released was deafening, and had enough force to tip her off her kneeling position for a moment, catching the back wall before being totally off balance. She stayed close to Marvin though, knowing that at least he would have a better chance against the beast than she, and no doubt living as long as the ghoul did taught him some better life lessons. One thing was for sure, that she had to keep whatever fear was welling up on the back burner until the threat had passed, or they were all dead and it didn’t matter. And then, it was the Talon member who decided to charged the beast, weaving and ducking in frustration but sadly, in vain, as Frankie watched in horror while the deathclaw crushed the man’s feeble body into the floor, ending his life sooner than later. 

“Lucky him.” She whispered, realizing that a quick death was a merciful one considering what followed, as the corpse was but a ragdoll now in the hands of a demented child, thrown up to the stairway toward the other deathclaws that decided they too wanted in on the action before eventually leaving the scene with their very dead trophy. 

Frankie nodded her head, acknowledging Marvin’s silent question, as she stood to her feet and took a moment to compose her thoughts again by closing her eyes and refocusing, slowing her heart rate with quick breathing exercises that seemed to kick in reflexively. That had been one of the closer encounters she could definitely add to her list of [i]“Strange and Unusual Creatures of the Wasteland”[/i].

“Those of you wearing the rad suits, do a quick check to ensure there are no breaches.” She said, examining her own suit. “Especially after that bizarre sonic blast.”