Watch and wait

The land around the huge house is more or less clear. There’s little cover in daylight. Besides, you have a funny feeling about this job. Best not to rush into anything.

You get comfortable under the cover of the swamp, keeping a careful eye on the building. You’ve reloaded your weapons and you have your act together. You’re flat in the shadows, out of sight with your Mauser at the ready. It’s not exactly a rifle, but it will work well enough at this range. Time passes slowly, but night comes.

In the dark, the place isn’t very inviting. At one time, this house must have been very impressive. Not anymore.

You put your Mauser on your back and draw your shotgun, checking to make sure that both barrels are loaded. Cautiously, you light up your Pip-Girl and move in. Getting inside is easy; the front door is missing. The house is a ruin, but it’s vast.

You enter a hall with a big staircase that leads up to a second level. Old furniture and tattered rugs are just a shadow of the comfort that once was. The harsh light of your Pip-Girl only makes it creepier.

The house creaks and groans constantly, but you don’t hear anything that worries you.

You start with the first floor, which is full of big, open rooms. Once has sofas in it and a large, ancient television that is covered with accumulated dirt. Another is a dining room with a long table, which raiders have carved names and symbols into. The place smells of old wood and upholstery. You find discarded Nuka Cola bottles and the odd food wrapper, but nothing of use.

It’s odd. This place should make a good spot for squatters or anyone looking for a hideout. But it seems as though people avoid it.

You pause by a wooden doorframe, examining what appear to be claw marks. Something happened here, more than once. You saw these marks by the front door, too.

In the kitchen, you find a door that’s been secured with a makeshift lock: a rusty, old crowbar. You leave it where it is, reasoning that someone must have done this for a reason.

You know little of the old world. You stand in the kitchen with the light of your Pip-Girl shining on the counters and cabinets, wondering what life must have been like for these people. It must have been easier. Less frightening.

Upstairs, you find bedroom after bedroom. Rotted mattresses, collapsing bedframes, and closets full of rotted clothing. People have been through here before, but again, not as many as you would think. It makes you wonder if there’s something that Boss Murphy didn’t tell you.

Still, you find nothing of value, and no sign of anyone camping out recently.

Until you are in the cramped, second-floor corridor. This place is a maze, but you can tell from the tracks in the dust and the ancient broom leaning against the wall that someone has been here. You were chosen by the Overseer for a reason. You look at the broom, then at the ceiling. There’s a square-shaped outline up there, and a ring.

You reach to the back of your neck, where that metal thing is. Then you shake your head and grab the broom and use it to open the door to the attic. The old ladder squeals as you climb up with your shotgun at the ready. You find a cramped, cluttered space up there. It’s full of junk from the old days.

You pause to open a trunk, finding it full of clothes. The trunk has protected them from the effects of time. These clothes are your size. None of them are useful in the wasteland, but you take a set of black, lacy lingerie. You never know.

You continue your investigation, and you find something that you did not expect in the farthest wing of the attic. There’s that round window way at the pointy top of the house that overlooks the front. This is that window.

And someone has been here.

There’s a bedroll, some supplies, and even a rifle and ammunition. So. Boss Murphy was right. The bedroll is cold, and there’s no indication that anyone is here with you now. But this is recent. Someone really has set up shop here.

Boss Murphy’s going to want to know about this.

Whoever camped here did something extra: they cleaned the window and left it open just a crack so they can hear. You take a peek outside, then listen. There’s a rustling coming from the swamp. It’s too dark to see anything.

Something’s out there.

You aren’t a coward, but you also aren’t bulletproof. You don’t like the idea of making your way back through this spooky house, then out into that swamp in the dark. Looks like this will be your camp tonight.

You cover the window so no one will see your light. As quietly as you can, you settle down on the bedroll, finding something unexpected in it: a few old issues of Diagra the Amazon. Perfect. Something to read.

You are quickly lost in the pages and well-drawn panels, watching Diagra locked in mortal combat with another powerful, sexy amazon. She defeats her opponent and rips her leather loincloth off, pushing her down and taking her ass. You can’t help but get aroused as your eyes scan the pictures of their muscled bodies, covered in sand and dirt, locked together…

Your substantial cock strains against your Vault Suit.

You hear a creak from the house that you don’t like. You forget the comics and your erection and grab your shotgun, moving to the nearest doorway, where you wait in the shadows.

Someone is here. You expect to hear something from the ladder and something in the attic if they’re coming near you, but you don’t hear those things. They must be somewhere else in the house. That’s OK. You plan to stay still; hopefully, they will leave.

Then you hear a creak, much closer than expected. They aren’t just in the house with you, they’re up here, just feet away.

You step out with the shotgun, hoping to take them off guard, but the shotgun is knocked out of your hands. Hand-to-hand combat is not your specialty, but you recognize the desperation of the situation. You throw yourself into your attacker, smashing them against the wall. You keep up the pressure, punching them in the stomach, then grabbing for them.

But the woman you’re grappling with doesn’t react the way you expect. A gun clunks to the floor and she lets out a gasp, then a moan. You feel her body shudder, and you feel a sudden hot warmth where your side is pressed against her. She collapses to the floor.

You turn on your Pip-Girl and grab your shotgun, stepping on her pistol.

You point the shotgun at her. In the poor light of your Pip-Girl, you see the woman from the bar. It’s the brunette who wears that heavy coat and doesn’t show her face unless she has to. You’ve served her drinks. Did she follow you?

Her brown pants have a dark stain on the crotch, but not like you would. She doesn’t have a penis, but she just came hard and squirted majorly.

She grits her teeth and stares up at you, still riding her orgasm but knowing how bad her situation is.

You smirk at her. “Skeeter bite?” The bite of the Rad Skeeter can do this. She must have one on her hip or something. You pushed her into the wall, it agitated that bite and flooded her body with pleasure.

It’s a reminder to you: people joke about Rad Skeeters, but a bite from one of them can cause you to lose a fight.

Before she can reply, you hear a crash from elsewhere in the house. There’s a loud clang.

It must be that crowbar. The basement door has just been broken open. There’s something here with you, and this commotion has attracted its attention.

You worry that something locked in the basement of this house might be more of a threat than this woman, whose body is still shaking from that **** orgasm. She’s helpless. You can easily hide or run. On the other hand, you don’t know what’s out there… or in here.

Propose a truce?

Or just go while you can?