Chapter Text
Never look down the barrel of a gun. Keep your eyes on the shooter.
It’d been a long time since Presten had taught her to fight, to protect herself. Almost a year since the quick, painful, claw-filled battle had assured her that she could hold her own, but kind Preston had gone out of his way to teach her to fire and clean her guns. And she had quite the collection of guns at this point. Unfortunately they were all just out of reach. The silenced .44 she kept beside her bedroll at night was across the room, her rifles leaning on the wall by the now-boarded window.
There was a knife in her sleeping bag, she was sure, but there was no way she’d be able to get to it now. Not with them standing over her, flashing a buzzing bright light into her eyes.
She wasn’t able to see the faces of the two men who had kicked their way into the barred room while she lay sleeping. Alright, she was blitzed out of her gourd and sleeping it off. But she was sober now! The jet had faded a few hours ago, and whatever lingered of the booze was quickly leaving her system with every thump of her heart. Sober enough now to realize she was a world class idiot.
Silvia squinted in the light, her nose wrinkling and lips twisting into a little snarl.. she couldn’t even see the gun, let alone the man holding it. Was it a man? Did it matter? Shit.. it mattered. One hand raised to shield her eyes and it was quickly kicked away by a heavy boot. “Fuck.. Fine! I’m not moving!” She growled out in a cracked voice. No response. She could hear a of heavy footsteps move then the clip of her ammo bag and the rattling of shells. Still, the light filled her vision.
“Is that all you want? Look, I got two guns by the window, and there’s a bag of food over there. Good stuff. Some Jet, some Psycho, maybe some vodka left…” She trailed off..
The man holding the flashlight turned ever so slightly; “Find me the Psycho, Berk, I’m ready to-” It was all the time she needed. Silvia moved, quickly and quietly, striking from below.
The flashlight fell, it’s owner dropped to his knees with a knife handle sticking out under his chin. Silvia stood, her grey eyes hidden in her mess of dull black hair. Without hesitation she yanked the blade free, the body fell flat. In the flickering light of a broken bulb she lunged at the second man, blade flashing wildly.
There was no sound, he wasn’t ready.
She mumbled in a slightly shaky voice, straddling a fresh corpse with a knife in it’s eye. “Didn’t know I was gonna have visitors, ya shoulda called.. why don’t people just call first anymore? Heh… Haah…” she stood, yanking the blade free and wiping it on the dead man’s shirt.
“Fuck…….”
“….. Fuck!”
She hadn’t been ready either. She’d let her guard down, let the ball drop, let the shit hit the fan. (In the back of her mind, she wondered if anyone even used those lines anymore.) And it had been pure luck that she survived this time. Now was the worst time to start rethinking your choices, but there she was, a breeze sweeping through the open door, her in her panties and nothing else, holding a bloody knife, thinking about bad choices and bad puns. Maybe it was time to go back to Sanctuary, maybe she should have let Dogmeat come with her this time.. maybe she should come up with a better name than Dogmeat… Maybe.. Maybe she really was just fine on her own. That last thought made a small smile touch her chapped lips.
Silvia grabbed her open ammo bag and stepped over the bodies, not bothering to look at them.. whoever they were, they’d played the game and lost.. and after a year in the Commonwealth, it was getting to be easy to see people die. Especially when they deserved it.
A box of Mentats was retrieved from one pocket and she stopped, only for a second or two, to look at all the useless bullets, before she closed the bag up tight, the harsh light and buzz of it’s bulb still filling the little room. She’d have to move now, and in the middle of the night. She popped the mentat into her mouth then dropped the box on the bedroll. Time to find her clothes. Time to get moving.