[indent][sub][i]featuring [@Andreyich] and [@Stormflyx][/i][/sub][/indent]

The door opened mercifully quietly and Laura slipped out with wide eyes and a low profile. It was quiet, save for the low rumble of the radstorms in the distance and the parched wind that haunted the hellscape of the wasteland. The raiders had stopped shooting for now. The first thing she did after she settled into cover behind one of the abandoned cars was to grab up a fistful of dirt and sand and rub it on her face until her skin had the same drab brown tone as the earth. Combined with the neutral dark-gray tones of her fatigues, the Initiate would be much harder to spot than the hulking power armored Knights had been. 

She glanced sidelong at the warehouse and then risked a peek over the hood of the car towards the direction of the raiders and immediately spotted the tell-tale gleam of brandished weapons, trained on the damaged front door of the building. She ducked back into cover. There was no way to tell which of the rifles she’d seen was the .50 cal -- not from this distance, and not so briefly. She dared not risk a longer peek, however. Laura would have to trust that Estevez and McDowell would make for a suitable distraction. 

Daniel for his part picked a suitable window, before waiting a minute or so until he believed Laura had enough time to set up in a good spot. Gregory of course went outside berserk as Daniel had come to understand was his nature and thus he wasted no time in peering out of his cover, checking the scene with his optics for the elusive sniper. "I'll look for him but chances are he'll find me first, then's your one chance. When I saw him he had a hood and bandana with the same raider armour as the rest but by know he could have done anything to change his look. He has the longest rifle though, easiest way to tell of course." The Knight said over comms. He shot two raiders, then a third who it seemed was looking to sneak up on the Knight Sergeant. 

But nothing of the main target, until a shine of optics. Yet… The shine was far too much, and it became clear to the young Knight it was a propped shard of glass to give a reflection for deception. "He's up near a car Eastwards, the-... ." Alas, he didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. A bullet hit the lad square in the forehead, shattering his headlamp and sending him dazed to the ground. Through what he suspected was a concussion Daniel hoped Laura would kill the bastard and protect McDowell, because for himself Daniel was sure as hell as out of action. 

As soon as she saw the muzzle flash of the large firearm and heard its report echo back from the hills, Laura sprang into action. She knew where he was now but she was too far away to get a killshot. For all of its advantages, laser shots don’t do well over long distances. Keeping her head down and her movements quiet, Laura advanced towards the sniper’s position in the carpark. Fear sank its icy daggers into her gut when Estevez’s voice cut out abruptly and she hoped it wasn’t because he’d been shot dead, but there was no time to contemplate that possibility. She focused on the mission, a clear objective, and swallowed away her emotions. 

The .50 caliber rifle fired again, sounding a little closer now. Laura slipped from cover to cover like a ghost, moving perpendicular to the sightlines of the raiders and using the sloping quality of the foothill landscape to her advantage. She was presented with half a dozen opportunities to take down any of the other raiders that had their sides or their backs turned to her as she moved past them but she let each moment pass without incident. It wasn’t worth giving away her position to tackle lesser prey. 

Once she was within a few dozen meters of the sniper, Laura took a deep breath behind the cyan-colored shape of an old vehicle and waited. Seconds crept by agonizingly slowly before the sniper pulled the trigger again, the noise of its discharge loud enough to be felt in her guts now. Laura jumped to her feet, the scope of her laser rifle practically glued to her face, and with a triumphant snarl she found the bandana-clad raider squarely within her sights, his own scope fixed on a target in the distance -- probably McDowell. The raider’s face was hidden behind a gas mask and he was clad in a black jumpsuit with strips of cloth, dyed green and brown, that broke up his silhouette. But not even the makeshift ghillie suit could hide him from Laura now. He caught her movement from the corner of his eye, however, and he turned his head to look at her. 

Laura fired. 

A perfect killshot. The sniper’s head dissolved into a molten pile of ash that blew away in the wind and the rest of his body went slack, spread-eagled across the hood of the car he had been using as a firing platform. Laura exhaled slowly and allowed herself a smirk. The first time she had taken a life had bothered her, but not anymore. Not when it was life or death. Her mission complete,Laura made to return to the warehouse but stopped and looked back towards the sniper -- and, more importantly, his weapon. The rest of the raiders were still distracted elsewhere, but not for long. She had to act now. 

Laura sprinted up to the dead raider and wrestled the sniper rifle from the claws of his hands. It was a modified hunting rifle, surprisingly light and in excellent condition. She resisted the urge to whistle appreciatively; it was pre-war, military-grade, and she recognized the scope as being of higher magnification than her own and the switch on the side suggested it was night-vision capable. Glancing up quickly to make sure she still had time, Laura slung her laser rifle across her back and fished the rest of the dead raider’s ammunition from the pockets of his jumpsuit. His gear was homemade but it was clear he had taken his role as sniper seriously. Again, her eyes widened in surprise, as the man had been carrying enough .50 caliber bullets to keep the weapon supplied for the foreseeable future. “Thanks, pal,” she whispered. 

Having finished stuffing her pouches with magazines and bullets, Laura began to sneak back to the warehouse in earnest, clutching her newfound prize in her gloved hands. She made it about 30 meters of the way back when something else made her freeze in her tracks. 

A dog’s barking, getting rapidly closer. 

Laura shot to her feet and looked out over the graveyard of cars.

[i]Good. Good. Good[/i]. The four fast paws of the faithful blue heeler tore across the ground, the same dust he'd left Harper in had followed him, even if she hadn't. The same crowd of dead things too. He barked, continually, intermittently when he could. When he could catch up with himself, when he wasn't getting too close to the ghouls to nip at them and corner them in all of their mindless screaming. He had brought them so far from that danger.

The cracked ground below, and the obstacle course of branches and upturned things had given him a healthy distance and had allowed him to keep it. They couldn't clear a jump like he could. Most of the time they stumbled. The sniper shots had been like a welcome call to him, the sound of people and he'd brought his whole damned flock of forsaken with him. In his line of site, a shape - and on the air just enough of a scent to have him power through his fleeting stamina just a bit more.

It he barked for her attention even more, she was not alone but it was his job to get to her. With Laura in his sight, he had a new target and mission. He closed the distance between them, flock still on his mind and so he barked again, taking grip of her wrist in a gentle mouth, dragging her backwards, swiveling her incidentally to face the wave of rotskins clearing the mist now - their groans and agony like a deathly thunderstorm all of its own. 

Chowder pulled at her to [i]run[/i]. 

“Chowder!” Laura exclaimed and mistook his tugging on her wrist for play fighting, as inappropriately timed as it was -- there was still a firefight going on. The noise of the approaching horde of ghouls was enough to disabuse her of that illusion and she cursed, eyes wide at the sights and sounds of the wave of abominations breaking on the far edge of the car park. The raiders were now well and truly distracted and gunfire broke out all over. It was heartening that the dog had survived the crash, but why on earth had he brought a horde of ferals to their position? By accident, or with a purpose? 

There was no time to dwell. He was telling her to run, not asking to play. Laura clutched the sniper rifle to her chest and set off in a full sprint back towards the warehouse, the barrel of her laser rifle slapping against her butt, vaulting over cars and sliding beneath other obstacles as she went, pushing the limits of her lithe athleticism, with Chowder in tow. The screams behind her were straight out of a nightmare. With one last glance over her shoulder to make sure the ferals hadn’t followed them, Laura slipped back around to the side entrance of the warehouse, threw the door open, flung herself and Chowder inside and locked it behind her in one fluid movement. She was breathing hard and fast and wiped at her forehead with her sleeves, the dust she’d smeared on her face coming off with it. Chowder looked to be just as exhausted as she was, but fortunately unharmed. 

She squatted down next to him. “What’s that you’ve got there, boy?” Laura muttered in-between sharp intakes of air and pulled out a piece of paper from an unbuttoned pocket in his (adorable) backpack. 

[center][i]Vertibird down. Algarin, Brown, Brown, Kinsley alive. Surrounded by ghouls. Fixing the vertibird. Look to the skies.[/i][/center]

Laura read the note again, and again, and a fourth time, mouthing the words. “Look to the skies,” she breathed. A slow grin spread across her face as the reality of the situation sank in. Chowder had saved the others from the ghouls and brought them here, buying them time to fix the vertibird. There was a way out. Help was coming. Laura embraced Chowder in a spontaneous and passionate hug, showering him with kisses on his forehead. “Oh, Chowder, you’ve saved us! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?!”

For that victorious moment, Chowder let Laura fuss him - but he was not as settled as he had been on the Prydwen. His eyes were alert, heart pounding in his chest and while he gave the woman a friendly lick, he soon made his way to the door. His nose was to the ground as he paced back and forth, sniffing desperately, his tail wagging lazily until he brought himself down to the ground and gave a cry. He couldn't relax yet. Not yet. 

Exhaustion and stress threatened to overwhelm Laura for a moment and she had to bite back tears at the sight of Chowder’s distress. “They’re coming, they’re coming,” she whispered and blinked repeatedly. “The doctor and all the others, they’re coming. You did good. I have to tell the Paladin, but you did good. I’ll be right back,” she said and straightened up, swallowing hard and wiping at her eyes. She steeled herself with a deep breath and made sure that her helmet was fastened properly.

“Paladin Moss!” she yelled as she ran back into the front shop, brandishing her new weapon and the piece of paper she’d pulled from Chowder’s backpack, waving it around as if it was a talisman that would deliver them from all evil. “The others -- they’re still alive, and they’re fixing the vertibird! Chowder, the dog, you see, he’s here and he brought this message!” She paused to catch her breath and held out the paper for the Paladin to take. “Pleased to report that the sniper is dead, sir. Oh, and a whole horde of ferals came with Chowder and the raiders are busy dealing with them now,” she added. “That happened too.” 

Without saying anything, or even accepting the paper to read it for himself, inscrutable behind the steel of his armor, Moss stepped outside and threw his vertibird signal grenade onto the dirt. It started beeping.