Written for the Fallout Big Bang 2013. I was paired with an amazing fanmixer Janie who compiled an awesome album for the fic and did a cover for it. She really has a flair for it. You can find her art/fanmix here: archiveofourown dot org/works/756896 (this link will only be accessible on the day of our posting, 16th April 2013. That's also the day the rest of the chapters will be uploaded.)

Setting: Fallout 3 (or rather, pre-Fallout 3)

Characters/Pairings: Flak, Shrapnel, Doc Hoff, Brad Danvers, Lana Danvers, very slight Flak/Shrapnel

Disclaimer: The Fallout series and all its settings and characters are © Bethesda Softworks.

Warnings: ideas of slavery & drug use, language, mentions of cannibalism

Stray
Prologue

That sonuvabitch Harmon Jurley.

You're free to go, Flak. Thanks for your service, Flak. Great job all those years, Flak. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out, Flak.

"You're going nowhere, you old queen!" Grouse shouts from behind him, voice whiny and thin. Someone pulls the trigger. There's a bang. Flak ducks. The bullet misses him, hitting and bouncing off the signboard. The Boss' son is too fucking eager. Flak takes off again. He rounds a cliff just as another bullet whizzes past him. It disturbs the strands of his hair. Fuck. That was too close. His footsteps slap on the dusty ground. He considers turning around to say 'It's me! Your buddy, Flak.' But they know exactly who he is when they spit out his name while pulling the trigger of their guns, lodging bullet after bullet into the landscape.

They all want to be the one to collar him.

He jumps into the small lake in his path - and almost slips when he's submerged. Underwater, the shouts are muffled. Bullets soar past him through the green, irradiated water. His hair floats behind him. He splashes on through. Half swimming. Half drowning. Flak scrambles up the bank, sputtering. Surges forward. His soaked clothes weigh him down. He stumbles. His legs are screaming at him. Another bullet misses his feet. Ricochets off the ground. Ymir curses. He's closer now. The next bullet hits the rock right next to him. Flak's heart just about leapt out his chest. Sandra the Bitchface shrieks threats at his back. Racing around another cliff, Flak wipes the wet hair from his eyes.

There.

A house up ahead. It's shimmering in the sunlight.

Flak speeds up at the sight. The wind whips hair around his ears. Behind him, his chasers do the same. They shout. Pursue him. Dog him. Flak focuses on the distance. His legs are going to give out. He flies across the broken path. Just a few more steps. More yelling behind him. He doesn't stop. He crashes into the house.

He slams the door shut in the same breath as he grabs the nearest chair. He lodges it under the doorknob. Outside, someone yells. Flak grabs a cabinet. Jams it at the door just as something bangs into it. Grouse probably. The fucking dumbass. Flak shoves the side table there too. Flings a coat rack into the pile. Another bang. The articles shake but don't topple. The door doesn't budge. His chasers aren't getting through here -

"Back door!" someone yells.

Shit.

Flak spins away from the door. He dashes through the room. Where the hell is the back door? The kitchen. Footsteps echo outside. He bolts. The doorknob rattles. No. The door swings open. Too late. He's fucked. He skids, ready to run -

It's not Grouse that enters. A man, a raider, falls inside. Flak slows down. The raider kicks the door shut – and instantly something pierces through it. A long, curved black claw breaks a hole through the wood. Deathclaw. Fucking hell. This house is surrounded. The raider leaps up. Clutches his side. He reaches for the fridge by the wall. Flak runs, claiming the other side of the fridge. The raider jumps away from Flak and faces him. In that moment, something passes between them and there's a beat before they both haul the fridge to the door. The fridge drops, settles - just when someone outside yells "Deathclaw!"

The deathclaw growls answer the cries. The gunshots start again. There are roars. Screams. The raider next to him pants. Flak takes a step back and the raider is startled by the motion. He turns to Flak. Their eyes meet.

Then they both pull out their guns. And shove it into the other's face.