Black clouds rolled in the air, pale light shining through thin spots, but not truly breaking the clouds. Not that there was anything for the sun to shine upon. The earth had long been scarred, burned in atomic fire, twisted by the mad machinations of humanity.

The wind was cold, icy even, tearing through the desolate landscape, twisting through the burnt husk of what was once considered the center of the world. The half dome, crumbling away as the years wore away at it, created a whistling sound. Grey snow fell to the ground, turning to wet ash in some areas as residual radiation pockets warmed it up just enough.

Most intelligent beings were hidden away from the cruel winds and icy snow. Hidden away in shelters even as black ice began to cover exposed surfaces. In the distance, a building collapsed, either because of the conflict of the remnants of humanity, or the toll of 200 years on unmaintained structures.

The Pentagon, or The Citadel, depending on the person, was destroyed. Bombed out by the last scraps of the American government in a desperate attempt to spit at it's most bitter enemy, the Brotherhood of Steel. A few patrols from each faction still wandered, but without their command structures, they were little more than the snow in the wind, soon to be forgotten.

A single figure traversed the wasteland, slowly moving up to the abandoned capital building. It's decayed form even still impressing any who looked at it. The capitol mile, going from the Lincoln Memorial, to the GNR radio tower, all the way up the almost hallowed steps of the White house.

A few shots rang out, the figure quickly killing any who dared fire back. Through the main doors, the figure paused.

Here sat one of the most powerful governments to have existed. A power that dominated the global stage, it's rise lasting almost 4 hundred years. And in but two hours, it was laid low, wiped from the map. It was nothing more than the words in burnt text books, the ideals of age old institutions, and the burnt, ruined monuments it had left behind, like the Pharoh's of the Past.

"I wonder if anyone should find this place, if everything were to recover, would they know what they stood upon?" wondered the figure aloud, voice muffled by the thick scarf and mask, slight mechanical tone betraying the sealed environment within the mask.

Ice clung to the figure, caked on the hem of the grey storm coat. Armored shoulder pads and forearm guards, black paint chipped, almost glowed with hoarfrost coating them. Similarly, the helmet, chipped and dented somewhat, had the swirling frost coating it. Thick gloves and heavy reinforced boots protected the figure from the elements. In their hand lay a simple pistol, customizations clearly showing, from the enhanced grip, to the armor piercing modification in the chamber. In the other hand was a sword, recovered from an underground arms locker, before the world went to shit.

The wind was lesser as they stepped forward, but the cold was still unbearable. Even through the thick padding underneath, the figure still felt the chill. Adjusting the grip on the weapons, the figure continued, passing the doors in the hallway, searching for one in particular.

It wasn't hard. It had to be the largest door at the end of the hallway. Here the wind was harsher, the windows long since blown out for whatever reason. The figure tensed, bringing the pistol to bear. At the end of the hallway stood a figure.

7 feet tall, green skin with sagging muscle, patchwork armor, a hunting rifle in hand. A super mutant, the main threat in the Capital wasteland. The figure paused. They could have sworn they killed all the mutants here.

Oh well.

Striding confidently, the figure was silent, the heavy boots impossibly creating no sound. Pistol still leveled, they walked, until right behind the mutant, seemingly not noticing them.

A flash, a twirl, and the beasts head was disconnected from it's body, the sword doing its job perfectly.

Entering the room, the mutant was behind, the figure paused. Here.

It was here that the order to end the world was given. Glancing to the right, she paused. The Presidential desk. An artifact from almost 600 years ago. Walking over, with an almost reverent step, the figure stowed the weapons, sword on the hip and pistol under the left arm. The coat ruffled in the breeze, showcasing a shotgun swinging from the hip.

Hands going up, they pressed a button on the back, disconnecting the seals on the helmet and mask, removing them. The scarf was pulled down, revealing the figure.

Longer hair, a dirty grey color streaked with white. Red eyes stared unflinchingly ahead. A smooth face, high cheekbones. Obviously female.

She was Jane Freewrite. Messiah of the Wastes, the Avenging Valkyrie, An Angle bringing the Lord's wrath upon His Enemies. But most of all, she was The Lone Wanderer. Not even 20 years of age, and she had already left her mark on the wasteland, having helped destroy the Slavers, the Raider gangs, the Enclave, but at a price.

The Brotherhood, decimated. Rivet City, the ship gone, having sunk into the waters below after an earthquake caused by the orbital strikes. Megaton, leaderless without Sheriff Simms. The GNR, it might be safe. Talon Company had been conscripted to take care of the station, making sure it stands. At the very least, it could stay standing.

For all intents and purposes, Jane had torn the wasteland apart, smashed the sandcastles of power that thought themselves kings. It would be left to grow, to find a new path, free from the influence of the Old World.

Her breath showed in the air, eyes taking in everything. There was something she was looking for. Read in the documents of the Orbital Strike Facility. Her eyes locked on a bust of an unknowable figure. It resembled the Lincoln Memorial.

Pressing the head back, a red button revealed itself. Without pausing, her thumb pressed the button a soft click echoing. A low hum started, it's low tones causing small objects to vibrate. Grabbing her helmet, she clicked it into place, the seals providing her with fresh air. Well, fresher than what was out there.

The room began to lower. Handgun out, she watched the room descend, while a metal blast plate began to close over the gap. Clicking the lamp on the side of her helmet, she noticed the underside of the blast plate. On it was the American Eagle, clutching an Arrow and a Scroll, the flag on the background.

The lift stopped after a while, leaving her only one path forward. Proceeding through it, she never looked back. What was behind her was the Old World, her Old World. A monument to the pride and arrogance of man, of unchecked technological growth, of weapons to horrific to consider. Of memories she would rather forget.

A father who never loved her.

A love who wouldn't forgive her.

A world that she didn't need.

She looked around. The presidential vault. The door, Vault-Tec's signature cog design wasn't even closed. Why would it be? The president was back in his office, sitting in his chair, skull with a single hole through the top.

Suicide.

Honestly, if she had burnt the world, she might do the same.

Too bad she had.

Entering the vault, she fired a few shots, the gouls inside downing quickly. There weren't many, and it was quick work.

An hour of exploration and she found it. Deep below the earth, a scientific experiment. The ultimate safe house. After all, how could an enemy attack you if you weren't in this existence.

She looked the control room over. Everything was pristine. Everything worked. She grinned under the helmet.

In the final days of America, science had attempted to do many things. Word was there were several underground communities, having existed away from the Wasteland, furthering science beyond what was originally thought. This was different.

A portal to another world, another entity. An existence that wasn't this one. Somewhere free of the bombs, the radiation.

Pulling up a console, she began typing. The sequences were ready, the test prepped. It was never activated. Never tried. It would either do for her what she wanted, taking her away from all this, or it would explode, taking an area out of the earth larger than the entire state.

It was a risk she was willing to take.

She removed a bag from her shoulder, pulling out the objects inside. Placing them around the room, she was satisfied. Pulling out a remote, she turned the dial before flicking the switch.

20 small red lights flashed into existence, and began flashing. Explosives. Nobody was going to follow her.

Typing away at the keyboard, she hit the enter key, an odd sort of finality to the action.

There was no hum. No explosion, no twisting of lights, no winds from a godless dimension. It was simply an empty test area, and then it wasn't.

A crystalline wall, showing a dark vista beyond it. The crystal wasn't, and it was. It was fluid and it was solid. It wasn't of this world, and it was. Stepping towards it, she pulled off her glove, feeling it.

Hard, soft, rough, smooth, hot, cold, it was everything and nothing. Endless possibilities. She didn't know where it went, if she would live, or if anything would change. But it was different, and she was glad.

With narry a glance, she stepped forward, passing through the portal.

Seconds later, the bombs exploded, removing the vault from existence.

It is warm. That is the first thing she notices. Well, it's not as cold as it was. It was still cool. The ice on her form started to melt though, running off quickly.

She was in a cave system, it was dark. Flicking the lamp on, she almost cried.

A destroyed city, half built, but destroyed. No signs of life, but rotting none the less. Although, there were no bodies, so that was a plus.

Looking up, she paused. There was a light. On reflex, she shut off the lamp and proceeded to head towards it, intent on scouting.

It looked like a train. Older, but functional. And yet, it's design was completely different to what she new. Instead of the smooth, aerodynamic form of an American train, zipping along at blistering speeds, this one was angular, blocky.

Different.

Using the binoculars, she observed.

They all wore a white uniform, cut off at the sleeves. Black pants and a hood completed the look, while weird metal masks covered the faces. On the back of the uniforms was a red Wolf's head with three claw lines through it. From what she could tell they were human, but certain aspects threw her for a loop.

They all had animal traits. There were ears, a couple tails, horns. Everything related to an Old World Animal.

One figure that was different was distinctly noticeable. A bowler at, white coat and cane. Bright orange hair. Obviously a leader, somewhat eccentric.

There seemed to be a commotion. Getting a view, she paused. Two of the guards were hauling a girl, no older than 16, up to the man. She was unconscious, clearly. Zooming in, she saw a bit of blood trailing down her face. Jane frowned.

At this distance, she couldn't hear, but it appeared he was yelling.

Stowing the binoculars, she stealthily crept forward, intent on figuring out just who these people were.

Ruby found herself unable to concentrate. The blow from the White fang member had knocked her silly, and the world seemed to be fading in and out.

"Boss! We got something you might want to see!" yelled the one on the left. That helped her come out of her befuddled state.

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Because I am having one hell of a day!" yelled a voice. Ruby paled.

"Oh no," she uttered, knowing the voice.

From the train car, out stepped Roman Torchwick. He looked at her. "Hello Red, this isn't good."

The Faunus on either side of her stiffened, letting go. Roman looked at them, hands held up in a 'what the hell' gesture.

"Guys, why are we letting go of the prisoner?" he half yelled, half asked.

The faunus didn't respond, instead slowly withdrawing their guns. "Something is here," replied the one on the right.

"What do you mean Perry, something is here?" queried Torchwick. He didn't get an answer, instead a multitude of explosions far behind the train.

Whipping around, he aimed his cane, the rest of the White Fang doing so as well, ignoring the prisoner.

Behind a building ran several figures. Ruby immediately grinned. It was her team!

There was a gunshot behind her. She turned, seeing Perry, the Faunus with glasses stumble forward. He looked down, noting a red circle blooming on his chest. As if reaching up to touch it, he fell over before his hand could reach it.

Torchwick stared, as did a few of the white fang. Spinning around, he froze. The white fang was similarly frozen, although for a different reason.

Faunus, thanks to their animal heritage, were inherently more acute to sensing danger. Where a dog or a cat might behave strangely, a Faunus will feel unease. Despite having a large human component, the animal aspects still managed to take over. In this instance, most of the Faunus were scared shitless.

A figure, about 6 feet tall stood by the train. A black coat hanging by the ankles, black ice clinging to the hem. A steel, chipped helmet covered the head, while silver lights shone forth. In one hand lay a sword, it's metal green while blue lighting danced along it's length. In the other, a large heavy pistol, an extended clip poking through the bottom.

To Roman, the figure was worrying. Just how had this figure snuck up on them so silently, and with such heavy looking boots! Weren't Faunus supposed to be good at detection? To the Faunus themselves though, they were terrified. This figure oozed death, decay. It smelt of age, of pain, of suffering. Its aura felt oppressive, as if all before it would burn in some unholy fire. It was little surprise when a few White fang bolted, running away, ironically towards the approaching figures.

On the other end, the rest of Team Ruby and Professor Oobleck slowed down. The figure of death and destruction had just appeared, shooting one of the white fang in the back. The round seemingly ignored the Aura of the Faunus, killing him instantly. It was little surprise when the group slowed down, not sure what was happening.

Jane pulled the trigger, killing the figure. In slow motion she observed. The rest of the mutants turned on her, and she grinned at their fear. The group running over slowed, not sure of what she was. Well, she would show them.

Her gun re aimed and barked. The bullet striking a silvery barrier over the second mutant, before piercing through, killing it. Aiming through V.A.T.S., she used the rest of her clip, taking out the mutants that were further away. Her sword was at the ready, prepared to dispatch the man in read.

Wait, where did he go?

Ah yes, he was in the train. Which was now moving, albeit slowly.

Sensing danger, she ducked. A fist flew where her face was, a shotgun blast echoing. A blond haired figure was attacking her. Strange, the prisoner figure looked elated when she first saw the group running over. Fine, incapacitation.

"I'd rather not fight you," grunted Jane, the metallic quality of her voice coming through the mask, slightly muffled by the grey scarf.

"You tried to hurt my sister!" yelled the Blond, swinging another fist. Jane dodged just in time, another shotgun blast tearing through where her face was a moment ago.

Bringing her sword up, she used the flat of it to deflect a fist coming at her, neatly sidestepping the blow. Stashing the now empty pistol in her holster, she assumed her fighting stance, sword held at the ready. The blond charged.

Flicking the sword, she made sure the blade struck flesh, inducing electrical arcs into the other girl.

Jumping back, Jane spun in mid air, plunging her sword through a particularly crazed looking mutant, seemingly trying to take her out with fists. The sword through the heart stopped that. Another duck, another explosion from a shotgun fist.

"Honestly, I was trying to help!" grunted Jane, dancing from another punch, while a hail of gunfire from some other mutants stitched into the earth where she stood.

A battle on two fronts was one she couldn't win easily.

"And now you're killing people?" yelled the blond. Jane actually paused at that.

"This surprises you?" The blond seems to be confused as well.

"Why wouldn't it? You just pop out of nowhere and start shooting!"

Jane would have responded, except the girl from before stepped between them.

"Yang! You came!" The blond, Yang, was tackled by the smaller girl from before. Jane paused as the rest of the group caught up, switching between joy at finding whomever this small girl was, and fear and mistrust at Jane. Honestly she was used to it.

The taller male of the group, wearing what looked like safari gear from the museum of history, directly approached her.

"We have no time for pleasantries! We need to stop this train, are you with us or against us?" Jane was somewhat startled at his fast speech pacing, but she nodded.

"I saved the girl there, can't leave a job half finished." The man nodded seemingly satisfied.

"Quickly girls! We've got a train to catch!" Jane turned and sprinted, heading for the train car which was rapidly gaining speed.

"Damn these boots!" she cursed, for once hating the weight they gave her. It was slipping away! A sudden thought came to her.

She sprinted a couple of steps before leaping, her sword in hand. In mid flight, she stabbed, the blade sinking deeply into the metal, holding there. Now that she was attached, it was short work to haul herself up, remove the sword, and climb to the top of the train car. She blinked when she saw the rest of the group, almost waiting there.

"How did you-!" she yelled, the steadily growing roar of the train drowning out her voice.

"No time! Quickly, to the front!" Needing no other motivation, Jane pulled out her shotgun, modified to fire solid rounds instead of buckshot. Sprinting across the top of the train, he grinned when there were more of these mutants.

Aiming forward, she pulled the trigger, delighting when not only the first one fell, but the mutant behind it was struck, hitting the ground. Holding the trigger, the combat shotgun bucked, round after round exiting the chamber, seemingly mowing down the mutants, blood and viscera spewing forth. Droplets of the blood and gore flew in the wind of the rapidly accelerating train, causing them to strike Jane's enshrouded form.

The combatants, concerned with the bombs on the train cars, didn't notice the carnage until blood started peppering them.

Weiss stared at the bomb, not quite sure what to do. The rest of the group were similarly stuck. Dr. Oobleck, his mind racing far faster, was thinking and discarding ideas as fast as they came.

"Guys! This one has a bomb too!" Turning, Weiss saw Blake pointing at the open hatch of the next car up. Beside her, Dr. Oobleck dashed past, heading for the third car. Swinging open the door, she barely heard his yell.

"They've all got bombs!" Weiss paled. What were they trying to do exactly? It made no sense to bomb a train in it's entirety!

She paused when wet drops began to hit her in the face. Spitting, she wiped her arm across her face, ready to tear into Oobleck and Blade for spitting on her, accidently or not. Removing her arm, she saw instead tiny streaks of dark red, with small pinpricks appearing on her clothes.

"What?" Mumbling to herself, she looked to the front of the train, and finally saw.

The mysterious black figure was springing up the length of the train, firing an absolutely destructive weapon into the hoards of white fang troops. The rounds were apparently powerful, because they were cutting down the troops in single shots, often injuring people behind them as well.

Weiss' mind blanked. She knew death. The White Fang had been killing her family for years, the violent protests and terrorist acts enraging her father, creating a household that she hated. With her every being she wished the White Fang would just end.

But she had never seen death.

She couldn't help it, she screamed.

Jane laughed under her mask. These 'White Fang,' whomever they were, clearly weren't familiar with combat, expecting her to close to melee range automatically. Imagine their surprise when she unloaded round after round of solid lead shots into their ranks.

Swarm tactics. Many a raider had learned not to use that tactic with her.

She already knew the train was mined. Her pip-boy's radiological meter kept going off in regular intervals as she sprinted the length of the fast moving train, viscera now coating her form.

Her shotgun clicked empty. Ejecting the magazine, she grabbed another from her belt, ramming the action back, sliding a round into the chamber.

This magazine had a different ammo. It was a more traditional 12 gauge type, but the buckshot was coated in radscorpion venom. It was wonderful at crowd control. Sadly after this 100 round magazine all she had was a 20 round strapped to her lower leg. She would have to manage her shots. Fortunately most of the White Fang were hiding below. All the better.

Continuing the sprint, she was only dimly aware of the screaming behind her. Not sure why.

"This is too easy." Grinning with mirth, Jane was forced to pause when her next foe appeared.

About 9 feet tall, it was a giant, mechanized monstrosity. Double jointed legs, too top heavy, long arms fitted with duel cannons, it appeared to e a fearsome foe. If she had to compare it to a wasteland creature, she would say it's like an armored Deathclaw.

"Well shit, how do I take you out?" questioned Jane aloud. As if answering, the machine crouched, getting into a lower stance, weapons charging up.

Only for a flaming ball to smack into the center, causing the mechanized thing to fall off the train, the sound of tearing metal signalling the end of the thing.

She turned around observing as the group caught up with her.

"Well finally! I thought I was going to do all the hard work by myself!" she grinned. The group seemed to have been sprayed by blood somewhat, although based on their reactions, she was in far worse condition. It was surprising when the black haired one walked right up to her.

"Just what do you think you're doing!" she screamed. Jane just looked at her through her white optics, night vision clearly picking out their features.

"Pretty sure I'm heading to the front of the train!" yelled the Wanderer. Honestly, killing the enemy. Was it a foreign concept?

The green haired man stepped forward, pulling the dark haired one back.

"I believe she is asking why you so quickly agreed to work with us," he interrupted. Jane nodded in understanding.

"Please, group of masked individuals kidnap a small girl? What more do I need?" she replied, a laugh in her tone. Not waiting for a response, Jane spun around, striding further towards the front. Looking back, she yelled.

"You take care of the big ass metal things, I'll head to the front and stop this thing!" Dashing forward, she managed to squeeze between the feet of 4 more metal monsters, reaching the third last train car.

Seeing no hatch on the top, she jumped down, using the front portal. Immediately the wind lessened. Glancing at her form, she cursed.

"Aww, the blood's going to be so hard to get out this time. Nothing is ever easy," she grumbled. Stepping forward, she was forced to duck when a sword swung by. It was a thin thing, lacking a traditional handle, instead some end of what looked like a cane. Readying her shotgun, Jane took in her opponent.

And laughed.

"S-s-seriously! T-that's your c-combat outfit! Oh god this is too rich!" Jane actively tried not to bend over laughing. The figure was dressed in what could only be described as a Sunday outfit. Knee high white boots, a brown and white coat, pink hair with heterochromatic eyes. And a giant god damned parasol. That was pink.

The girl frowned, instead dashing forward, sword and umbrella ready.

Jane merely pulled the trigger, letting round after round of burning buckshot fly in a cone of death. The figure quickly brought up the umbrella, using it to deflect the shots. The acid quality of the venom however was slowly burning away the thin fabric. And let's be honest, there were more rounds in her gun that the girl had fabric on her shield.

Jane grinned at the look of worry in the girl's eyes. Still holding the trigger, she sheathed her sword, walking forward. When she was in arm's length, she let go of the trigger.

A swing of the gun removed the now rotting umbrella. A backhand with the same gun caught the girl in the face. Her open fist grabbed the front of the strange girl's attire. The second fist let go of the gun, it swinging down below the coat on a strap. The fist flew forward, nailing the girl in the face.

Once, twice, three times and the strange multicolored girl was out, the metal knuckles of Jane's glove delivering far more impact than usual. Even with the strange shields these people had, blunt impacts still jarred the brain.

Dropping the girl, Jane strode forward, leaving her to lay there until the group from before caught up. Transitioning into the next car, she had to curse. Whatever world this was had to be completely insane.

The 7 foot tall muscular warrior wielding a chainsaw, while not being as funny as the person from before, represented a different problem.

And yet, perhaps not. Like the rest of this 'White Fang' group, he seemed afraid. Terrified even.

"What's wrong, afraid to fight little old me?" she taunted, swapping magazines on her pistol.

The man grunted. "What are you? You are not natural!" he all but roared. Jane giggled.

"There may be some truth to that. You going to let me pass quietly?" she grinned, gesturing with her open hand to the door behind the figure.

Whilst seemingly terrified of her presence, something she would have to figure out later, it didn't seem to break the resolve of the man before her. Raising his chainsword, he charged.

Jane leveled her pistol, firing twice.

The first bullet plowed into his knee, but the strange white shield held. The second bullet slammed into it as well, but the white barrier held. Jane was forced to dodge a messy overhand attack as the sword ground into the spot. Firing another round, it pinged uselessly into the sword, making a small dent but doing nothing.

Quickly swiping her sword out, she used it to deflect another attack. The man might have had skill, but his fear was causing him to make ineffective strikes. Nothing but downward cuts that bit deeply into the metal floor and wide swings that she ducked easily.

Was he frothing at the mouth?

He swung wide, a lot faster this time. Jane ducked. Her foot kicked out, kicking his leg out from under him. Falling to his knee, he could only watch as she brought her gun to bear, firing several times into his chest. The first two rounds mushroomed hopelessly on the white barrier. The rest however punched through, slamming through his chest. Red spurts popped up, showcasing 5 new holes in the man's chest.

Groaning, as if shocked that he had been defeated, he managed to utter one word before falling to the side.

Jane tilted her head. "Demon huh? Not the first time I've heard it." Leaving the dead man, she continued on, replacing the now empty magazine on her gun, again.

"Honestly, it just chews through ammo, don't know why I keep it," she muttered. Stepping through the portal to the next, and hopefully last car, she let out a sigh of disappointment.

It was the orange haired guy with the funny hat.

"Let me put it this way, the joke of a girl with the umbrella is currently out cold. Your 7 foot tall lumberjack enthusiast is currently dead. You hardly seem to compare. So stop the train and I'll think about not killing you."

Roman, to his credit, did not flinch at the immediate sight of the figure. Still cloaked in black and grey, silver optics glaring at him. The difference now was the quite liberal coating of blood all over the form.

"Well I have to admit, you've trampled my plans quite well. I don't suppose you'd consider switching sides?"

Jane snorted. "That girl, what were you going to do with her?"

Roman guffawed. "Red? Oh after toying with her for a bit I'd have to let her go. She's too important."

Jane paused. Toying with a girl? Dude was straight out of paradise falls. Too bad she burned that place to the ground.

Pulling the trigger, she was pleased when it only took one bullet to puncture whatever barrier he was using, tearing into his knee.

"Ah god! What the hell!" he screamed, falling to the ground. His now ruined knee bled profusely. Any thoughts of retaliating gone, he applied pressure to the wound.

Ignoring him, Jane walked forward, taking a peak into the next car. Dashing back, she grabbed the strange man, throwing his screaming body into a nearby metal crate.

"Shaddup! It's just a bullet!" Closing the lid, Jane hopped into a crate nearby, slamming the top closed from inside.

"Oh this is going to hurt!" she yelled, bracing herself against the walls of the crate.

Consciousness returned quickly to Jane. Growling, she kicked her boot against the lid, forcing it open. Light streamed into the box, the loud tone fading in and out. One of her optics was cracked, messing up part of her vision. Disgusted, she tore her helmet off, clipping it to her belt.

"I'll fix that later, time to see who's alive." Hauling herself out of her box, she took note of the echoing groan of the orange haired guy. Looking around, she paused, dumbstruck, red eyes taking in the view.

A city. Tall buildings, places of business, signs, cars, sidewalks and roads. All was a familiar sight. What was different was the state of things.

There were no burned out husks of architecture, no rusted cars, skeletons dotting the landscape. Everything faded to the same grey color scheme. No, this place was alive. Cars were driving, people were walking, well, some where, others were staring.

And then the growling started.

Looking behind her, down the hole, Jane had to dodge when something large and black came dashing out.

"Jesus Christ! The hell is that thing!" Ducking another creature, she grabbed her sword. Her pistol was down to it's last magazine, and with the exception of the 20 round shotgun mag, she had 12 shots left on that.

"It's a Grimm!" shouted the small girl that yanked her into this mess.

"What?" she screamed back, leveling the shotgun.

Single shots, can't waste them!

Firing, she was shocked when the creature went down, seemingly already dead. Firing another, she proceeded to kill 11 more of the creatures, all resembling a twisted version of a Werewolf. Discarding her shotgun, since it was now extra weight and exchanging the mags would take too much time. Drawing the pistol, it was significantly less effective, requiring several shots to take out one. Around her, the area was slowly descending into chaos.

In more ways than one.

The small girl was using a giant scythe to kill these things, apparently firing an integrated rifle and using said recoil to fly around. The blond one was using what Jane could only describe as shotgun fists to punch everything. The black haired girl was using a sword mounted to a pistol with surprising effectiveness. And the white haired girl-

Was using fucking magic.

It was around this time that Jane started to develop a twitch in her left eye.

There was fucking magic. Looking closely, she was dumbfounded, seeing what could only be described as fantasy unfolded before her.

Giant airships and robotic soldiers fell from the sky. Flaming coffee thermos, a blunderbuss with a double bladed axe on the end.

"Fuck it, I'm doing what I'm doing. Get over here you orange haired pansy!" Tearing the lid off, Jane reached in, hauling the moaning figure out. It was obvious at some point he had used his coat to tie off his leg, stopping the blood flow.

Dragging the figure through the street, she approached the group of robotic and human soldiers, having swept in to save the day.

Tossing the orange haired man towards them, she spun around, facing the group from before.

"One crazy mastermind, hand delivered. Now would someone tell me what's going on!" With the combat over, the focus was on her.

She promptly raised both hands as about 30 of the surviving robots raised their guns, aiming for her.

On a good day she could probably take them, armed to the teeth and whatnot. Now? Probably not. Only a sword, tired, and honestly pissed, she probably wouldn't survive.

Blowing a lock of hair from her eyes, she grinned. "Well this will be fun!"

I do not own RUBY or Fallout 3. All works belong to their respective creators.